#jean-gab

[dagonet]

Mandibules (2020) réal. Quentin Dupieux

[theleoisallinthemind]

BY GAB BOIS

[altschmerzes]

CRYING LAUGHING AT THIS PICTURE I JUST TOOK OF MY STUPID CAT

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Seven — Patrons

That's my brother. I couldn’t lose him. That’s my brother. 

5.4k words | 19 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, body horror in a way? cops [ACAB]

I fought to turn in place, ignoring the stinging soreness in my body and how the shards of glass from the broken window sliced into my knees. “Brent?” I repeated more urgently. Dr. Sims materialized into pixels and was gone, flitting out of the window beside him. I pulled myself over the side of the driver’s seat to look at Brent, who was limp and unmoving. My heart dropped in my chest, and I immediately began to shake his shoulder. “Hey man, come on,”

The truck groaned a bit as some weight was added, and Dad’s face appeared in the shattered square where the back passenger window used to be. “Jean, are you okay?” He demanded. 

“Dad, Brent won’t—” I cut off, only glancing at him for a moment before turning back to Brent. There was some blood coming out of his nose. “Come on, asshole, wake up—”

There was that crystalline sound that always accompanied Dr. Sims’ powers, and the passenger-side door was yanked off of its hinges with a grind of metal. 

“Come out of there,” Dad demanded above, looking at me from the hole where the passenger’s side door was. 

I shook my head, trying to push up off my knees to get a better look at his face. He just wouldn’t move. 

Getting up to look at Brent gave Dr. Sims enough leverage to grab me by my arm, and he pulled me up with a surprising amount of strength for a dude who looked like he avoided heavy lifting at all costs. Dr. Sims dragged me out of the wreckage, my legs getting cut up in the shards sticking out of the window’s track as he yanked me out of the smoking car and flitted down with the aid of his powers, setting me down on the road. 

The truck that had been chasing us was entirely decimated, the hood of it denting in so far that the back of the truck lifted up a bit. The mangled bodies of the thieves chasing us slumped in the seats or out of the broken windshield. The other truck was nowhere to be seen. 

Dr. Sims gave me a one-over, noting the little bits of blood littering my body and asking, “Are you hurt?” 

I blinked, looking away from our destroyed truck to him, then to where he was looking at my body. My side was bleeding again, staining my shirt. 

I shook my head, coughing again and trying to get to my feet. Who the fuck cared about that right now? Brent was hurt. 

Dr. Sims’ hand came to my shoulder and he forced me back down. “You need to stay sitting Jean, at least until we know how injured you are—”

Dad’s smoke form flitted out of the truck, to the road by the roof. “Eugene!” He shouted. “Help me turn the truck!” 

Dr. Sims hesitated, looking at Dad as he hooked his hands on the truck, then to me. “Don’t move,” he stressed before disappearing in a pixelated blue cloud. 

He flitted over the truck and beside Dad, the two of them straining to lift the truck even with their powers. I shakily got to my feet, ignoring the stench of rubber and smoke and death to begin closing the gap between me and the totaled truck. Between me and my brother. 

The truck settled, and Brent’s form followed the momentum and slumped over the center console. My heart practically left my chest. “Brent?” I called, breaking into a jog. 

Dad flitted to the passenger side and clambered in, hooking his hands under Brent’s arms to begin pulling him out. Dr. Sims grabbed Brent’s legs as soon as he was able, and the two laid him down gently on the ground, Dad immediately checking him for a pulse. 

I used my powers to dash the rest of the way towards them and skidded to a stop on my feet just as Dad pulled away from Brent, and Dr. Sims moved in his place, hands lighting up blue as he began to slam them into his chest to perform CPR. 

I was glued in place by fear, frozen by it. Everything around me seemed to slow down until I was able to watch how every dense blue pixel of Dr. Sims’ power tried to spread into Brent’s chest and restart his heart, giving him a bit more strength to push his steeled rib cage in. I could see into the truck now that Brent’s form wasn’t there; there was a nice indent in the dash of the car in the form of Brent’s chest, wires and glass and everything scattered around the seat. He had somehow taken the force from the crash chest-first. 

Dad’s jaw was so steeled it looked like it’d wire shut forever. “C’mon, son,” he whispered through grit teeth. “C’mon.”

“D, see if there’s any smoke in his lungs,” Dr. Sims grunted, putting more force into his presses. 

Dad tilted Brent’s head back, using one hand to open his mouth while the other came up to hover just above it, skin going dark as the smoke pulled from inside of him and swirled around in a lazy ambience. Dad’s fingers flared, and the smoke ringlets around his wrists spun faster. 

Something slowly escaped from Brent’s mouth, pulling from somewhere deep in his throat; the smoke from the accident and whatever move Dad had pulled, the bit that he never got to force out on hacking coughs. Dr. Sims kept punching a beat into his chest, the blue on his arms glowing stronger. 

My hands were on my lips now as I silently sobbed, eyes so wide the tears pooled as I refused to blink. My mind could only chant how that’s my brother, again and again and again as I watched Dad and his friend fight to bring him back to life. That's my brother. I couldn’t lose him. That’s my brother. 

The blue of Dr. Sims’ power seemed to charge, glowing brighter before his next push down and following the movement; there was a deafening pulse that made me flinch as the energy of his power shot down into Brent’s chest, charging the underlying steel in it blue in some odd attempt to shock his heart back to life. The remnants breezed past, ruffling my hair. Pushing away the breath I was already barely taking in. That was my brother. Why wouldn’t he wake up?

Dr. Sims’ arms charged up again, and there was another pulse, the bass accompanying it making my ears throb. How much time had passed? It felt like a lifetime. How long was too long? 

My hands shook and my eyes got too blurry to see past by the time the third pulse of energy pushed out of Dr. Sims, the blowback from it clearing the tears in my eyes. Brent’s chest was now glowing a dim blue, the energy shifting deep in his chest. 

Dr. Sims stopped his compressions, arms falling limply to his sides as he huffed. Dad fell back from his knees, staring blankly at Brent, smoke dissipating from his hand. Why did they stop, why weren’t they trying anymore? 

I took a step back, shaking my head. No. No, no, no, no, no no nonononono. 

There was a pensive moment where nothing moved. The only sounds came from the groans of our broken and beaten truck as the stuff in the engine settled and the swampland below us. Everything fell to my senses then, engraving in my memory forever; the way Brent’s sternum glowed, the blood from his nose, the tears in Dad’s eyes. The way the glass scattered around Brent caught the warm light of the bridge’s lamps and reflected them back like stars. The small gashes along his arm that was once facing the window of the truck. The smoke still in the air from our wreck froze in place, painting a picture of a moment that would haunt me forever. 

The blue in Brent’s chest faded, and Dr. Sims shifted to watch it intensely. There was something in his face that made me pause, that had me looking between him and Brent’s body in hope. 

The blue suddenly flashed, and with it came something else; a large aura of steel ripped from every pore in Brent’s body, pulling away and then snapping back to him just as quickly. The hit from their return was just enough to shock Brent back to life, their stabbing into his skin making him gasp out, eyes shooting open. 

Dad scrambled on his knees, “Brent,” he rushed, “Can you hear me?”

Brent couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “What the fuck,” he groaned, coughing. 

Dad laughed breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Brent cursed. He’d be fine. I choked back a sob of relief. “You okay?” Dad asked. 

Brent blinked hard a few times, head moving to the side to look at the destroyed truck. “What happened?” He asked, trying to sit up. Dr. Sims put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You need to lie down,” he advised. “Your Conducrine Gland needs time to work before you start moving.”

Brent looked at him, bewildered. “My what?” He asked. 

“It’s the little sack that makes the proteins that creates your powers,” Dad chimed in. “You need to let it heal your body all the way before you move. You got hit pretty hard, bud.”

Pretty hard was the understatement of the century. 

Brent laid his head back down, blinking hard. He stayed there for a moment before his head popped back up and he said, “Shit, Jean, where’s Jean—”

“She’s right there,” Dad pointed in my direction. Something about the acknowledgement broke the spell the fear had over me, and I was rushing over to Brent, crouching down on my knees. 

“Are you okay?” I demanded, looking at the cuts and bruises on Brent’s body. Steel was slowly overtaking the red under the slices, healing him from the inside out. 

“Are you okay?” he asked pointedly instead.

I glanced down at myself; my jeans had ripped at some point, and my palms were bleeding, little holes stabbed in them from the glass. I looked like a mess. My fingers moved to my side, where my stitching had popped, and came back bloody. “Jean,” Dad got up from where he was sitting. “Let me see your side.”

I nodded, standing and letting Dad raise my shirt, getting a bit woozy when he did. The gash on my side that had only been stitched for a week had lost three of those stitches, the barely-welded skin trying to pull away from itself. 

Dad gave me a look over — checking my face, examining my cast to make sure it didn’t break — his brow furrowing the entire time. “I told you to stay on the floorboard, Regina,” he began to chastise. 

There was a calm anger in his voice, like he was trying to keep himself from yelling at me. “Wh—” I cut off. “Dad, you can’t be serious right now.”

“I’m very serious.” His eyes left the cut he was pulling glass out of to bore into mine. “You will listen to me when I tell you to do something.”

“Dr. Sims was shot, and Brent was driving.” I defended. “You fell off the car! What, was I just supposed to sit and wait—”

“No, what you’re not supposed to do is put yourself in front of a bunch of bullets when you can’t heal.” Dad shot back. “You should have stayed in the truck!”

“They would have shot up the truck anyways!”

“I was dealing with them.” Dad said through grit teeth. “I would have been able to deal with them if I didn’t also have to worry about keeping you safe.”

I blinked. Was Dad…blaming me for this? “I was trying to keep everyone from getting hurt—” I started, Dad cutting me off. 

“That’s not your job, Jean!” Dad growled. “We’re not going through all of this to help you just so you can throw it away on some stupid heroics. You want to be helpful? Do what you’re told. Don’t make us drop out of the sky just to save the people you’re sacrificing in the process. Stop throwing yourself into danger trying to do something you can’t.”

My voice died in my throat. Dad really was blaming me for this. For what happened to Brent, for the destruction. Was he right? We wouldn’t be here in the first place if it wasn’t for me. 

Yet again, something else happened that was my fault. 

All the defensive spirit left my chest and I looked down at the asphalt. “Okay.” I simply muttered. 

Dad stayed there, his feet unmoving, before I heard him sigh above me. “We’re gonna have to call the cops.” He said, like it was the worst possible option. “Get ready for a long night.”

It was indeed a very long night. 

EMT rushed in with the multiple police cruisers, checking me out at Dad’s insistence. All I gained was more scratches and bruises, and the stitching on my side gained two butterfly strips and the insistence that I take it easy the next few weeks till the others dissolved. 

That was the first two hours. The other five were spent being questioned at the police station. 

There was either disdain or acceptance of our presence at the police station, no in between. There was one officer who handed Brent and I wrapped sandwiches, and another who sneered great, more of their kind. I’d say it was some good cop/bad cop facade if they were actually asking us any questions. We were just asked our version of events, and told to stay put. I was falling asleep sitting up in the chair by the time they released Dad and Dr. Sims from wherever they were in the back of the station. 

The room Brent and I were in was a meeting room of some kind, all of our things on the long table after being searched through. Dad came in first, rubbing his eyes. “You two okay?” He asked. 

I nodded. Brent was folded over the side of the table, head in his arms, dozing off. 

Dad looked at our things splayed out across the top of the table, and groaned. “My fucking truck,” he muttered. He plopped down in a chair, elbows going to the table, head in hands. “There goes transportation.”

“We’re in the center of the city,” I started. “Don’t they have trolleys here?”

Dad shook his head. “Not for where we’re going. But we would have had to ditch the truck anyways, so this doesn’t change much.”

My brow furrowed. “Where….where are we going?”

Dad leaned his head back, keeping his eyes closed. “The person that could help us lives in the swamplands. We would have had to take a boat.” 

I rubbed my eyes, yawning. “Where would we be staying if he’s in the swamp?” I asked. I thought he’d be in the city, or at least close enough to it for us to have a hotel. 

Dad shrugged. “Offered us his place. We’ll figure out sleeping situations when we get there.”

I nodded, eyes going back to the grain of the table. Every time I blinked, I could see Brent laid out on the asphalt, in that middle ground between dead and alive. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. He wouldn’t have almost died if it wasn’t for me.

Dr. Sims was in the room a few moments later, looking just as beat down. “We’re the ones chased and robbed, and they treat us like the criminals.” he sneered, pulling his bag close and unzipping it. “We’re lucky we’re getting off on technicalities,”

"Might be a conduit safe haven, but that doesn't mean everyone's still welcoming," Dad muttered.

Dr. Sims opened up the laptop, checking to see if the screen was shattered and closing it just as quickly when he realized it wasn’t. He then pulled another one out, doing the same. “Well if they bothered doing anything about the highway robbers, we wouldn't be in this mess.” Dr. Sims muttered. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him. I didn't even know the guy could get angry.

“We need to leave soon,” Dad groaned. He must have been considering passing out right here in the meeting room like I was. 

Dr. Sims sighed. “Yeah.” He closed the second laptop and shoved them both back in the bag. “Alright, come on. Let’s get going.”

We stepped out of the police precinct and into the sun, tired, sore, and groggy. 

The rest of the city wasn’t feeling our laze, though. 

We were deep in what I had to assume was downtown, surrounded by neon signs and tall buildings all in some square. It was this blend of modern and vintage that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow did; Greek Revival buildings with fairy lights wired in their wrought iron, multi-story brick buildings with moving neon signs. This didn’t look like the decimated New Marais we were all told about, at least. 

But then again, we were coming out of a police station after nearly being sniped, so.

Brent and I only had one bag each; my big mountaineering bag was on my back, and Brent was holding the handles of his old football equipment duffle bag. Dad brought his thick briefcase along with his own hiking bag, and Dr. Sims was able to fit both the straps of his backpack and the sash of the messenger bag on his body comfortably. We definitely looked like tourists, but we at least didn’t have much to lug around — so it wasn’t too strange when Dad suggested, “Let’s walk. We’ll find a trolley to the docks if we don’t just get there first.”

“Thought you said New Marais was unsafe,” Brent tried to joke. I could tell it was only partially in jest; even with his Conduit abilities, parts of his skin were still pink from the bullets. He definitely didn’t look interested in gaining more marks. 

“That’s why you two will walk in front of us, and we’ll make sure nothing happens. Don’t stop, keep walking, do not engage anyone that tries to talk to you.” Dad commanded. 

I wasn’t in any place to challenge him. I’m sure he was still mad about the last time I didn’t listen to him. 

New Marais was a city I could get lost in, if given the chance. Partially because I had no fucking idea where I was going, but also because it had an allure to it I’d never caught from anywhere else. There were no alleys, no spaces between doorstops. The porches on the second floors seemed to run for miles, curving with the buildings as we entered some giant square with a huge cathedral in the middle. 

“Never would have thought the land of the sinners would have such a big church.” I quipped. 

Brent froze dead in his tracks, looking around. “I know where we are.” He murmured. His eyes widened in that way they always did when he was close to some sort of architectural archaeology, and he exclaimed, “No way, I know where we are! Jean, c’mon!”

And then he just took off, much to Dad’s protests. 

“Brent!” Dad shouted as Brent disappeared somewhere behind a crowd, a group of men performing little stunts to the cheers of the watchers, passing around a bucket for change after each trick. Dad cursed under his breath, saying, “C’mon, we’ve gotta keep an eye on him,” and rushing off just as fast, leaving Dr. Sims and I to chase after him in his wake. 

Brent was hard to track in the crowd, something Dad was struggling with too as he shouted, “Brent!” again in an effort to call him back. But, between two parents and their baby’s stroller, I caught a glimpse of him, saying, “Dad, over here!” 

I became the leader, weaving through the crowd with a coordinated ease that Dad and Dr. Sims were struggling to follow. I didn’t worry about that; I just kept my eyes on Brent as he dodged his way through the people, skittering to a stop at the front of the cathedral’s gardens. 

“Brent!” I called, managing to find a gap wide enough to jog the rest of the way to him. He didn’t move, eyes staying glued ahead as I got closer to chastise him. “Dude, you’ve gotta—”

I glanced over and cut off, finally realizing what he was looking at. 

The cathedral was huge, elevated gardens and tiered steps leading up to the steepled gothic church with a giant rosetta window in the arch of the lancets. At least, I think that’s what those curvy bits just over the entrance were called. I’d ask Brent, but he was transfixed on what stood in front of the cathedral. 

Just up the first flight of steps past the iron gates, a terrace cut into the stairs, this huge pile of concrete sat up in its center and lit up despite it being the middle of the morning. It would have looked like a bad disposal of some concrete left over from the church’s repairs if it wasn’t for what was sticking out of it. It was an old step, ripped up and immortalized because of what was embedded in it: Cole MacGrath’s Amp. A two-pronged prod made of nothing but metal, his weapon of choice as he fought back the Beast and saved the world from its destruction. Trapped in concrete and now forever preserved, the closest we would get to an Arthurian sword in the stone. 

Behind it on a pedestal stood the man himself, cast in stone. Cole MacGrath’s effigy stood with one foot propped up on an extra little slab of concrete, posed as if ready to leap forward and punch whatever was in his way. One fist was balled and ready to do so. The other had its fingers flared, ready to call upon that electricity I remember he was blessed with and strike with who knew what. Maybe bolts of lightning. Maybe simple arcs. 

I think what took me off guard was how normal the man looked, even in commemoration. The most eye-catching thing about him was the Amp in a sling bag on his back. Otherwise he just looked…normal. Really short hair, a tee-shirt. He looked like a regular man, someone who couldn’t have been capable of what he did. 

Maybe that’s what was most inspiring about it. That he wasn’t some god, but under it all, a man. 

“The Patron Saint of New Marais,” Brent breathed, stepping closer to the closed iron gate and lacing his fingers in the spaces. I followed close, as if it’d help me get a better look.

“Is this…” I drew off, looking around. “Is this where it happened?” 

Brent nodded. 

Somewhere, right in front of me or behind me or maybe even where I was standing, was where Cole MacGrath took his last stand and defeated the Beast almost 26 years ago. 

There was shuffling behind us, and Dad and Dr. Sims appeared, stepping close. Dad’s disapproval died in his throat as he looked at the scene before him, while Dr. Sims’ looked reserved, like he was at a wake. 

We stayed in an enraptured moment of silence for about two minutes before the spell finally broke over Brent, and he turned to Dad. “Did you have anything cool?” He asked. “Like a weapon or something?”

Dad scoffed, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Yeah — I had a chain.”

I blinked. “That was it?”

“Got the job done, didn’t it?”

“We should go,” Dr. Sims interrupted. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer than we need to.” 

Dad hit the stalling motor on the boat rather hard, hissing, “That’s fucking great,” 

“Well,” Dr. Sims sighed. “We did tell the guy at the marina we’d take it as is. Guess we should have checked the fuel.”

It was probably the dingiest little thing at the docks, but it was supposed to be enough for the trip out to the swamps. Or, we thought it would have been. Dad and Dr. Sims bargained with some guy who looked surprised to even be spoken to, offered a few incentives for a three day use of the boat that involved Dr. Sims’ video powers and his Macbook that looked like it needed to be put down back in 2023. Brent and I didn’t ask exactly what this favor was. Probably was safer if we didn’t know. 

But Dad, in his rush, offered to take it then and there, which led to us floating aimlessly in the middle of the wetland, accompanied by nothing but direct sunlight and screaming trees as the cicadas yelled their protests at our presence. 

Brent was perched in the center of the dinghy, knees tucked to his chest. We’d finally found a downside to his steeled reinforcements; he was dense. Not mentally, though I was saving that joke for later — steel’s apparently three times heavier than bone, and his weight increased a good 40% when his muscles became laced with it. When Brent moved to step into the boat the first time at the docks, it lurched under his foot and threw me overboard. So he was situated in the direct center of the boat and told not to move. Not that he needed much incentive; he looked at the water with apprehension, probably thinking about the last time he was submerged. 

And right now, that turned into a bit of panic. “So we’re stuck here?” Brent demanded, looking around. 

“I could go,” Dr. Sims offered, “Buy some gas?”

“I mean,” I started, shrugging slightly, “I could sorta push us along? If I manipulate a current behind us, I should be able to—”

“No.”

Dad’s voice was low and stressed, like I’d just suggested stealing from the Pentagon. “Dad, it’s just a tide, it’s super eas—”

“I said no, Regina.” He looked down at me, glower in his eyes. 

“It’s not a tidal wave!” I retorted. Dr. Sims looked away from Dad uncomfortably and I could see Brent roll his eyes, but I didn’t care. “It’s a current. It’s literally one of the easiest things I can do!”

Dad’s chest flexed when he inhaled, as if trying to make himself bigger. “No. You’re not in a position to be doing that right now.”

“You mean I’m too weak.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I mean, Dad could probably do it—” Brent tried to interject

“I can’t.” Dad responded simply. “Most I can do is shoot water off into the swamp.” He then turned his attention back to me. “Jean, you’re not doing this.”

“I’m not healing right now, but I can use my powers. You saw me on the bridge! It’s not gonna kill me.” 

Dad’s eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth to argue more when Dr. Sims interjected. “It isn’t a bad idea, Del.”

“Euge—”

“We’re out of gas, and besides, the more power she uses, the more proteins in her system. More of those means it might speed up her healing.” Dr. Sims continued, like Dad hadn’t even spoken. He looked at Dad and stressed, “It could be good for her.”

Dad stayed staring at his friend for a while before moving away from the stern of the boat, motioning me to it wordlessly. 

I stomped past, uncaring about how it rocked the little dingy and Brent’s “Jean!” behind me as he tried to keep himself steady. 

This was ridiculous! There was this fire in my chest as I summoned my water and began trying to manipulate the swamp; what was going on with Dad? He was acting like I couldn’t do anything right! If there was something I couldn’t mess up, it was piloting a goddamn boat. 

That weird discomfort in my shoulder blades was back, a sort of soreness that I couldn’t really compare. It pulled as I did, manipulating the waters around the boat to gently push it forward. 

The boat moved slowly, but hey, it moved. This was more than I’d done before, and Brent’s heavy ass wasn’t exactly helping — so it dragged lazily through the water, Dr. Sims directing turns every now and again as we traveled deeper into the swampland. “How long are we gonna be here?” Brent asks behind me. 

“What, New Marais? Or this guy’s place?” Dad hummed. 

“Both, I guess.”

Dad sighs. “Hopefully, not too long. This guy can give us some info on the tar, might have some connections, and then we’ll be out of here.”

“What is he? Some kinda scientist?”

Dad scoffed. “He’s not much,” 

“He’s been there since the beginning,” Dr. Sims interrupts. “He was Cole MacGrath’s best friend.”

“Holy shit, the Cole MacGrath?” Brent asks, incredulous. 

“He’s been doing a lot of underground pro-Conduit work since. It’s how your father and I met him,” Dr. Sims added. 

Dad murmured off on the side, “Sure, if you call that fucking work,”

“D,” Dr. Sims chastised, sounding tired. I could only imagine the exacerbated look he was giving Dad. 

“Let’s just hope he’s actually useful this time,” Dad says simply, voice curt. Dr. Sims sighed somewhere behind me. 

There’s an awkward silence that even the cicadas’ screams couldn’t cut through, Brent cracking to ask, “So what kind of Conduit is he?” 

“He’s not.” Dad replied flatly. 

Dr. Sims tried his best to be more welcoming. “He helped MacGrath with a lot of stuff — built the amp, even — but he’s not a Conduit.”

“Oh,” Brent hummed. “And he decided out here was the best place to settle down?” 

“It’s off the grid. No one’s gonna come out here willingly,” Dr. Sims explains. “He’s made as many enemies as we have over the years.”

“Let’s just see what he knows. The sooner we get outta here, the better,” Dad grumbled. 

I hadn’t realized he was saying this because we were at our destination, ignorant to it all until Dr. Sims told me to veer left and a voice echoed over the ambiance of the swamp. “Well, long time no see, Eugene!” 

I looked over my shoulder to see one of those swamp houses, a shabby little shack on stilts — only this one was modified to hell, with an extra floor and what looked like an old train car on the other side of a wide dock, where a portly older man stood. He was in a printed blue and white cuban shirt, the quiff of his slightly graying brown hair blowing in the breeze that shot between the mangroves. His eyes hid behind glasses but his face reminded me of those little rodent animals that always smiled, quokkas or something. 

I pushed the boat to the dock, Dad throwing a rope up to tether it as Dr. Sims pulled himself out of the boat to greet the guy. The water slipped away from my arms, sank back into my skin, and I flinched when it settled; something about letting go of my control made the center of my shoulders twinge in pain, like I strained myself with a stretch. 

Rolling my shoulders, I turned, catching how Dad was looking at me. “You okay?” He asked. He still looked a little miffed from earlier, but at least the concern was genuine. 

But if I told him something was hurting after doing the exact thing he wanted me not to, I knew I’d never hear the end of it. He’d tighten his grip on me and I’d never be allowed to do anything like this again around him. 

So I lied, saying, “Just tired.”  

Dad nodded. “I know. Me too. We’ll talk to this guy, and then you both need to get some sleep.”

Brent was still in the center of the boat, unmoving. He couldn’t get out till we all did for fear of throwing us overboard. “You’re telling me,” he grumbled, staring off into space. He looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes seemed deeper than usual, and I had to wonder if it was because of his near-death experience.

Dad moved to grab a bag, stopping when he heard, “Nice to finally meet you, Delsin,”

We all turned to look at the guy who was standing on the dock with Dr. Sims, hands on his hips. “Kids,” Dad said instead of greeting the guy back, “This is Zeke Dunbar.”

Special shout out to my little boy, lovingly referred to as 'Delsin Layer' by friends, for coming up with the cool idea of how certain conduit powers could theoretically revive people! I've never met a more inquisitive and creative mind. He also really wants me to point out the steel when Brent's revived comes from the in-game healing animation (he was very serious about it staying in-canon). I may have given him too much control and he's now trying to direct more things in this story lol.

[databaze]

another day i am not being dicked down by polnareff :(

[thingirlworld]

low rise pants>> 🎀

[batmanbeyondrocks]

Denim style Afrowomen

Credit: Gabs Abens@gabsabens

Song Credit: YG Marley•Praise Jah In The Moonlight

[lagroupie]

Film - October, November and December 2023

Just developed some film shot with my mom's Olympus Trip 35 camera and a standard Kodak Gold film. From top to bottom: Bad Nerves in Etagnières, Drab Majesty in Yverdon and Gab Scraper's record release party in Lausanne with Jean l'Asticot.

[olvaheiner]

MC Jean Gab'1 - J't'emmerde (2003)

[dagonet]

Mandibules (2020) réal. Quentin Dupieux

[hopplessilse]

The nanny

Joel miller x f!reader 18+ explicit

Other stories:

Part 2 the nanny

Serie masterlist insta!Joel Dylan's stepfather

Fetish teacher!joel x f!reader

Summary: You've worked for the millers for a while, you love Sarah she's an amazing little girl. Your favorite part of going to his house is being able to see Mr. Miller, and how good he looks in his dress suit.

Warnings: Age gab (in her early 20's, he's middle 40's) pet names, Hard Sex, teabagging, almost got caught, unprotective v in p.

A/N: He has money, he is humble, he has problems with his wife, he loves Sarah and we love him, let him give us good love. if you want a second part let me know sweethearts <3

At the Millers' house, you were drawing with Sarah in the living room, it was afternoon. The Millers almost never asked for your service for many hours, this time it would be all day, until 9 p.m. or until they told you.

Mrs. Miller had an event of her company, which she would attend from 5:30 to 11:00 p.m. On the other side, Mr. Miller worked in the morning but returned home in the afternoon, around 4:00, and would be busy with zoom meetings.So you'd take care of Sarah until he was done.

From the moment you set foot in his house, you found Mr. Miller fascinating. But you were professional and you needed the job, he always treated you well and you were the same, they always asked for your opinion on things, they trusted you in any situation.

He's a good father to Sarah, he's a good husband, despite the constant fights they had lately, he's always respected her, you can see the love he has for her.

Although… You couldn't get it out of your head that day when you were in the pool.

When Mrs. Miller called you to babysit Sarah in the afternoon, you thought you'd be alone, but you'd not. Mr. Miller was working from home. From the pool you could see him through the window that looked out onto his office.

You could see the way he stared at you while he was on the phone, how he looked away from the computer as he typed to check you out. When you took Sarah to bathe and put her on her nap. The way he smiled at you when you went to say goodbye to him, the way he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him to kiss you on the cheek.

Today he would have a morning event at work, something a bit formal. His wife, Mrs. Miller, made him buy a suit. He was a man who liked casual clothes, a pair of jeans, some plaid shirts or simple T-shirts. You were deeply grateful to Mrs. Miller for making him buy that suit, because god—" You never thought he could look better than in his plaid shirts.

He is tall, broad, broad-shouldered, in fact his body is very well proportioned thanks to his work. He is a contractor but before he was dedicated to all the loading and repairing part, now he is more in the area of design and site preparation. although it is still doing repair work. His arms are wide as are his forearms, broad back. You could imagine something else wide.

He had a strong profile, stood out in the most beautiful way, his jaw covered by his dark, grayish beard, and his lips decorated by a mustache that barely touched his upper lip.

And his eyes… Well, his eyes were two big, round dark spheres, which every time they looked at you, made you feel like you were the only person in the room, with that intensity of eye contact that brought you to your knees.

You heard his heavy footsteps down the stairs as he spoke to his wife. You looked up as you felt him enter the living room, right in front of you, wearing dark dress pants, light blue shirt, with the last button open exposing his exquisite tan collar… A dark blue tie hung from his hand.

His hair, fresh out of the shower.

"How do I look like?" he said, adjusting his tie behind his neck

"You look better than in your jeans." His wife got up from the couch to walk over to him and help him tie the knot

He looks good in everything, he looks so good

"And the jacket?" his wife looked him up and down

"I'm not going to wear a jacket," he said, buttoning the last button of his blue shirt

"It's a formal event, you must wear it"

"No, it's too early and hot to wear it" he buttoned the buttons of his sleeves as he walked towards Sarah and you

He sat down in the couch behind Sarah to see what she was doing, while exchanging a few words with her, Mrs. Miller went to get the jacket and threw it to the side of him in the couch, he just looked at her seriously as he leaned on the back of the couch and his legs remained open.

"You take it, and you'll tell me if you don't use it," she told him before going upstairs to her room to get ready

After Mrs. Miller left, the air changed. At least for you it did. You felt Joel's gaze on your neck, a feeling of nerves ran through your entire body, although you decided to ignore the fact that his knee almost touched your shoulder, you decided to give all your concentration to Sarah while she told you about the animals you were painting.

A few hours had passed since Joel had left, Mrs. Miller was about to leave, right at the door saying goodbye to her daughter. She, like Mr. Miller, looked beautiful. She wore a purple dress that highlighted her warm skin.

You had a good time when you were alone with Sarah, one of your favorite activities was playing Taylor Swift music and singing at the top of your lungs. You enjoyed swimming, making brownies, and drawing. She was a quiet, obedient and above all honest girl, she even told you secrets from her school.

She loved being with you. Once on vacation when you weren't working, she asked her parents to talk to you so you could spend the afternoon with her. Despite being 8 years old she was a responsible child with her homework, she always reminded you to do it.

You knew things about her, like she knew things about you. You were best friends.

Hours passed, Joel was already at home, but he was in his office working as he had meetings by call. Normally when one of them arrives you always put Sarah to take a nap and go home, after a long day for everyone it was the best solution to lower her energy.

"I don't want to sleep, I want to get in the pool," Sarah said as she pouted sitting on her bed

"You know the rules, no pool after 6 p.m., and you have to take your nap." You said as you closed the curtains a little and turned on her vanity light

"Can you convince my dad to leave us?" you looked at her and she smiled at you, cocking her small head

"No, I can't," you laughed and saw her eyebrows gather in anger

"He won't say no"

"And why wouldn't he say no" You looked at her with a thoughtful face

"Because he likes you," she smiled at you and her hazel eyes sparkled

You opened your mouth in surprise

"And where do you get that?"

"Because he was telling my mom again that you were one of the best babysitters I've ever had."

"Do you think that?"

"sure" she smiled to you

"Well anyway I can't do it honey, you'll have to take your nap, on the weekend we'll probably be able to swim okay"

She just went to bed with a pout on her face

"Can I at least read the story myself? it's just that I'm not very sleepy."

"Do you want to read it alone?" You took the book off the shelf and gave it to her

She just nodded happily.

"Okay, I'll let you read the book, but you promise you'll fall asleep?" You pointed to it as a warning

"Yes, I promise"

"Little hand" you made your hand a fist, placed your thumb on your lips while extending your pinky finger in her direction, she did the same as you, and they joined their pinky fingers in an embrace.

You walked to her door and waved goodbye, telling her to keep quiet so her dad wouldn't hear her.

You closed her door slowly, then walked down the hall and headed for the stairs. The house was dark, you had left a lamp on the side of the stairs to light them.

Going down the stairs you turned to enter the living room. When you looked up you jumped and put your hand to your chest, Joel was sitting on the couch with only 2 lamps on that reflected a dim light in the room.

He had reports on the coffee table and his laptop was resting on the edge of it. He looked up at you. He was wearing dark square glasses, in his hands he held a notebook and pen and, he was still in his clothes from this morning.

"God!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said, leaving his notebook and pen on the side of his laptop along with the rest of the papers.

"Don't worry" You got your posture back by watching it from the entrance "I thought you were in your office"

"I was there, but I needed air, I couldn't last another minute"

You both stared at each other, you trying to control your nervousness as he looked you up and down.

"Sarah's already fallen asleep?"

"Yes, she just fell asleep" You walked over to the couch where he was, your bag resting a few feet away from him. You took it, looked at him and just smiled and walked away

His raspy voice rang in your ears.

"Hey, I wanted to know if you couldn't stay another hour" You looked at him confused "I'll be busy with another meeting"

"Oh okay sure, no problem" He just gave you a smile and started typing on his computer, you just sat next to him on the couch, saying nothing.

Sitting next to him, you couldn't help but look at him and see how sexy he looked in the dim light in the room. What would it be like to be loved by him? How would it feel to be touched by him? What would it feel like to kiss him?

No, you can't think that, it's Mr. Miller we're talking about, that's not healthy or right, he's married and has a daughter, a daughter that you take care of in the trust of their house.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up below his elbows. You could see the hair in his arms, and his veins underneath them.

He was so focused on what he was doing.He looked calm, you couldn't think why he and his wife were always fighting, you would be very happy by his side.

You came back to reality when his eyes turned to look at you, and a smile appeared on his face. You just settled back on the couch, a nervous smile on your face. Joel stopped writing and leaned back on the back of the chair, and like this morning, his legs spread, his knee touching yours.

"So… How's college going?" He put his left arm behind the couch, leaving his hand behind your shoulder.

"Mmh I… I don't go to college anymore, I graduated a few months ago."

His brows furrowed, "Mmj, and what was your career?"

"Architecture" you smiled as you nodded and looked away from him

"You haven't looked for a job yet"

"Yes, I have, but… Since I'm still new to the field, they don't accept me in any of them" You played with your fingers as you watched them intertwine.

"If you want, you could be an intern in the construction I work in"

You looked at him and your eyes softened "for real"

"Of course" a soft grimace was on his lips, causing his eyes to become small and the edges of their eyes to appear wrinkled.

You just smiled at him in the same way, and when you lowered your head to your lap, you felt his hand, the same hand behind you, caress your hair. You turned to look at him and his eyes wandered over your breasts that were slightly shown by the collar of the shirt, his eyes ran over it until they reached your face.

"You are so beautiful, did you know that?"

His eyes were even darker with the light, his lips parted. It didn't help you stop your thoughts.

"Yes, I know," you said in a whisper as you saw his lips, his face, his eyes

His hand went from being in your hair to being on your cheek. He stroked you with his knuckles slowly, as he watched the places where he caressed you. You didn't take your eyes off him. He came closer to you being inches from your face, while his hands rested on your jaw, following the shape of it to your chin and resting his thumb on your lips.

"You have beautiful lips" His thumb caressed your upper lip to your lower lip slowly.

You didn't know what to do or how to react, you never expected this from him. Why was him this way just now?

He came up to you and left a kiss on your cheek, close to your lips. You could feel his breath brushing your lips. Until you just decided to put your lips together with his.

You closed your eyes to the contact. Your lips moved in time, slowly as he held your face with his left hand.

The kiss only intensified when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, sliding your hands down his chest. You parted for lack of air, but your foreheads stayed together.

"Is it okay for us to do this?" you asked him, begging him to say yes, that he wanted to kiss you, to feel you… But a little part of you told you it was wrong

"I want it, I've wanted it for a while" He caressed your face and brushed his nose with yours "Do you want it to happen?" He looked straight into your eyes

"Yes.." you swallowed seeing it "But… your wife."

"Don't worry about her, she won't know this happened"

You stared at him gasping for breath, thinking of a million things that could happen. If she found out you would lose your job, you would be embarrassed if your parents knew the reason why they fired you, it would be a torment in your head if they separated because of you. You didn't want to be the other woman, but if it happened one time, you put the feelings aside, you could enjoy it.

You could have this experience and not be left wanting.

You joined your lips with his, making your teeth collide, the kiss was intense, your tongues caressed each other, asking for more. You couldn't help but slide your hand from his chest to his crotch, you felt a bulge through his dark pants. You massaged him up and down, feeling his harder length.

You heard him growl with pleasure from your hand, your movements so soft, your hands on him and your panties getting wetter and wetter.

Your hands went to his belt, undoing it with a speed that showed how impatient you were.

"shh calm down, I know you want this cock inside you honey"

"I want it in my mouth too" you looked at him with puppy eyes as you got off the couch and knelt in front of him, you positioned yourself between his legs and guided your hands to unbutton his pants and unzip him.

"oh baby, you will be the death of me"

He settled better on the couch, he helped you lower his pants, staying in boxers, he placed his right hand on your head, caressing it.

You guided your head and your hand close to his member that was still covered by his boxers. You could perfectly see the shape of its length, the thickness of it. You placed your mouth on it, leaving a trail of kisses along its length on the fabric. A growl left his lips, prompting you to pull the hem of his boxers down a little, making his head peek out.

You turned to look at him, he smiled at you and nodded for you to continue. You licked your lips and placed a kiss on the tip, this made his hips rise a little, he was asking for more, but you wanted to play with him a little before putting him in your mouth.

You stuck out your tongue and ran it along his length as you landed your lips and gently sucked on the sides of his member. Your hands wandered over him, you touched the tip of his head with your right hand and felt how he moved due to the cold contact of your hand on his very warm length.

"Come on baby, show me what that little mouth can do." He told you in a low tone and with his raspy voice.

You pulled down his boxers so you could free his member. Your jaw dropped when you saw it. It was thick, definitely not too long but it wasn't small either, it was a size that you considered perfect. Its length rested on his stomach which was still covered by his blue shirt.

"I know you can take it, show me how well you suck it."

Damn, with that language I would let him do whatever he wanted to me

You took his length with your right hand, a smile forming on your face when you realized that your fingers were not touching your thumb on the other side. first time you had one like this and you were going to enjoy it. You left kisses on the tip and then put the head of his member in your mouth, delicately sucking it, while you heard moans and grunts come out of Joel's mouth.

Both of his hands were placed on your head, urging you to take more of his length into your mouth, and so you did. You opened your lips wider to give him access to more of him, his hands guiding you up and down as a trail of saliva ran down his member. Your right hand didn't stop moving, it followed the same movements as your head.

you wanted to give him more, you wanted him to feel satisfied by your mouth. You took his member from your lips, only touching it with your hand, you looked at him through your eyelashes and you could see how excited he was, his eyes screamed for your attention. You lowered your head so you could kiss his balls.

You put one in your mouth as you slowly sucked him, while your right hand masturbated his member. You looked at him and watched with his head thrown back while moans and moans left his lips. He lowered his head to look you in the eyes, you saw how his teeth pressed together, how his neck would tense and his neck veins would show through his sweaty skin, his eyebrows united in excitement .

You continued sucking and touching his member while he undid the knot of his tie and tossed it aside on the couch.

Joel leaned over to you, pulled his testicles out of your mouth, and grabbed you by your armpits to pull you up.

"I don't want to come in your mouth honey, I need to do it inside you" as he told you that he placed you on his lap, each leg on one side of his hip.

You were wearing a shortboard skirt, so he had easy access to your underwear. With his hands he pulled your skirt up until it folded up to your back, and with both hands he pulled your panties down. You lifted one leg so you could pull it out of your panties and leave them hanging by just one.

He slid his right hand between your legs so he could caress your clit that ached for attention. You moaned at the touch of his calloused fingers on your soft skin. You were so wet that you could feel the remnants of your wetness on your inner thighs.

"Hell sweetheart, does this tight pussy cry for attention?"

You suppressed your moans by biting your lip as you looked straight into his eyes, the only thing you could see in them was your reflection as his eyes were darker than they were, you could see how he needed this as much as you did.

"Just fuck me please," the words came squinting from your lips as little whimpers followed.

Without telling you, he placed you on top of his cock, you felt how he guided the tip in your entrance making you sigh, without further do, he entered you suddenly. You let out a loud moan that caused you to bend over and bite his shoulder so you could silence your scream.

He began to move and penetrate you tightly while holding you firmly by the hips. Your breasts were a few inches from his face, practically bouncing off his chin. The place became a sauna of sweat, moans and gasping breaths from both of you. You straightened up so that you could take control of the situation, seeing your action he let you take control and ride him.

He looked so good from above, you could feel the firmness of his hands, as they traveled from your breasts, to your hips, waist and buttocks squeezing them firmly, he spanked you to encourage you.

"You're so good, God you look so beautiful from here," he said in a voice choked from lack of breath as he approached your breasts and kissed them over the fabric biting a little over the top.

"Shit" you couldn't control your moans, the more you felt your orgasm build, as you watched the gestures on his face, the way his neck tightened, your hands on his hair, on his face as you leaned in to kiss him. A deep kiss that led him to stick you to his chest, hold you in place and penetrate you hard.

His balls bounced off your ass, echoing around the room as it mingled with your whining between his lips.

"I'm coming Joel" his name came out mostly in the form of a moan

"Come on baby, let me hear ya"

Your orgasm hit you hard, you couldn't help but let out a loud moan that echoed through the room, whining coming out of your lips as joel penetrated you mercilessly. Joel's moans were present as he kept pace with his lunges. From one moment to the next you could feel his movements losing pace as moans came out of the back of his throat.

You knew he was about to end when the sound of an engine came through the entrance. You froze, you knew it was his wife, you looked at him and he had his eyes closed as he penetrated you, you knew he was concentrating because he heard him too.

"Joel," your voice cracked from the friction your was receiving.

The grip of his hands around your hips intensified as he opened his eyes and looked at you, his movements were slowing down but you could see through his eyes how he was collapsing little by little.

It wasn't enough a couple more thrusts and the sound of a car door closed, so that he came down hard inside you, silencing his moan on your lips as he penetrated you deeply a couple more times to empty itself completely into you.

Hearing the keys in the lock, you both got up, you fixed your skirt while he quickly buttoned his pants and shirt. You got away from him by taking your things.

Joel adjusted his hair as his wife's heels echoed across the floor of the house.

You could feel Joel's fluids trickle down your inner thighs. You could feel your cheeks red and hot from all the blood that went down your face, the heat you felt emanating from your body.

His wife thanked you for taking care of Sarah. Before leaving you were saying goodbye to his wife and you turned to look at him, he was behind her a few meters away from you, he smiled at you, but this time it was different, it was a smile you had never seen, your eye contact ended with a wink from him.

You didn't know how the hell you were going to work for them.

You didn't know how you were going to walk into that house every day and see him leave, see him come home from work while you take care of his daughter.

But if you knew anything….. This wouldn't be the last time it would happen

[altschmerzes]

literally how am i supposed to accomplish anything under these conditions

[mewhenimanangel]

the babysitter ʚɞ

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

synopsis: miguel offered you a job babysitting his daughter, gabrielle. his marriage is going through a rough time and you’re someone he can confide in

wc: 2.2k

warnings!: alcohol, age gap, infidelity, loss of virginity, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), cowgirl

nia’s ౨ৎ notes: i lovee dilfs so bad

"y/n can you make me ramen, please. i loveeeee the way you make it" gabby came downstairs to ask you. currently, you were lolling around on the couch in the living room watching tv on the big screen. you were babysitting gabrielle o'hara, your neighbors' daughter. you started the job when your mom invited them over for dinner and her dad asked if you were available to watch her for a while, you weren't that busy so you said yes and after that they decided to officially hire you.

her parents were out at the moment, miguel at work. "yeah sure" you smiled, pausing your show and getting up to the kitchen while gabby sat on the couch with her tablet. you reached in the pantry for a pack of noodles, grabbing hot sauce, green onions, and extra seasonings on your way. you waited for the ramen to boil then began adding everything.

"hey you guys okay?" you heard a voice coming from the front room. miguel threw his his keys on the counter and took his shoes off at the door. "daddy!" gabby exclaimed running up to give her dad a hug. "ahh mi cielito, what are you still doing up?" he asked giving her a kiss on the cheek and picking her up into his arms. "oh that's my fault actually she asked to stay up a little longer and she's too cute i couldn't say no" you giggled. he nod his head and smiled before gabby yawned "you ask to stay up and you can't even thug it out?" he laughed. "why don't you go upstairs and brush your teeth and go to bed huh?" he told her.

"okay daddy" she grumbled running up the stairs to go to bed. you'd completely forgot about the noodles you just made "wait i actually just made her some noodles.." you pointed to the kitchen. "oh well, i'm starving" he smiled moving towards the kitchen.

you put some noodles in a bowl for each of you before you sat next to him at the kitchen island. "so how's school going" he asked you, taking a bite. you were a sophomore in university, studying for your degree. "good, it's a little tough but i can manage" you answered him. "you're a good kid, you'll do great i'm sure of it" he smiled. "hope gab wasn't too much trouble today" "no no she was great, she's so adorable i love her." you giggled. "yeah, think she misses her mom" he sighed.

"oh, where is she anyway?" you asked him, as nosy as ever. "she's on some business trip" he answered, mockery laced in his tone. "but between you and me, i think she's seeing someone behind my back." he rolled his eyes. "oh i'm so sorry." you looked at him with a sympathetic expression. "ah it's alright, things've been kind of rocky lately anyway"

he moved his leg ever so slightly, the fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your knee. and he didn't move it, you two sat like that just talking for the next twenty minutes until you checked the time and figured you should head home. "have a good night and thank you as always" he smiled, handing you $200 and sent you on your way.

ʚɞ

you were curled up on the couch, stressing about an assignment you had to finish by the end of the night. "hey." miguel greeted, resting his hands on the chair behind you, leaning over. "oh, hi mr o'hara. i didn't hear you come in, gabby's in bed by the way i'm just trying to finish up this assignment without destroying this laptop." you sighed. he snorted a little at your frustration. "rough day?" he asked you. "yeah, kinda"

"why don't you take a break for a little? have a drink?" he offered, moving to his wine cooler to grab a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "i've had a bit of a rough day too." you weren't one for drinking - you couldn't even do it legally yet, still a year away from that. but you were stressed and you figured a load off couldn't hurt so you got up and went over to join him at the island.

he moved the glass in front of you before finding his seat next to you. "so what were you working on that's got you so tense" he asked taking a sip from his glass. "just some stupid shit from my business class, what about you? why'd you have such a bad day?" you answered. "well, turns out bella has been seeing someone. from work, buddy of mine told me" he sighed.

"oh i'm sorry mr o'hara" you put your hand out on his  arm, face expressing your sorry. "really it's fine" he brushed off "just don't know how she could break us up like that, especially for gabby. probecita bebé" you frowned, feeling bad for him. i mean who could ever cheat on him. he was smart, kind, and really handsome. you studied his features looking at his messy brown hair, the way his 5 o'clock shadow graced his chiseled jaw, his milky brown eyes under his surprisingly long lashes. you looked at the way his t shirt clung to his biceps and the way his jeans rode low on his waist.

"what?" he chuckled at the way your stare lingered on him. "n-nothing" you nervously laughed, downing your glass of champagne. "thanks a lot for all you do for gabby, she loves you a lot. always talking about you and it's never one bad thing" he smiled at you. "think she's gonna need us a little more now with what's coming." "what do you mean?" you quirked an eyebrow. "well m'gonna file for divorce, which'll be hard on her" he poured more champagne into your glasses.

the two of you talked for a bit before you told a joke which got him laughing. he rest his hand on your thigh, the other hitting the table. when the joke was over he didn't take his hand off, he instead inched it higher up your leg. you looked at his hand before looking back up into his lustful gaze. you weren't gonna lie and say you didn't want him but he was a little more than twice your age, he had a kid for god's sake. but your wine clouded your judgement and you allowed him to lean in, attaching his lips to yours.

when you were moving an arm up around his neck your elbow bumped your wine glass off the counter, smashing on the ground. you gasped "i'm so sorry" "don't worry about it" he chuckled kissing you again. this time your hands entangled through his hair deepening the kiss. he picked you up, put his hands under your ass cheeks, kneading his fingers into it as your legs wrapped around his waist.

he moved to the stairs before you broke away "wait mr o'hara what about bella?" you breathed out. he scoffed "please she's not a problem anymore and please miguel is fine" he latched his lips back on yours. you broke away again "what about gabby?" "you said she's asleep right? just gonna have to keep it down" he smirked before kissing you again.

you got to his bedroom and he threw you on top of his comforters, crawling his way on top of you. you held onto his strong shoulders as he pressed kisses down your jaw and neck, sucking on your soft skin. you let out a few groans in his ear before pressing your hands against his chest. "um i-i've never done this before with anyone" you admitted.

he took a moment to look at you before taking your hand into his. "that's okay, i'll take care of you. you do still want to right?" he asked rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. you bit your lips and nod your head "m'gonna need an audible response princess" "yes, i still want you to fuck me"

that was all he needed to hear before he was back on your lips. he pulled you in his lap reached for the bottom of your shirt and tugged it over your head, rising your body to help him. he rubbed his hands up and down your waist before reaching to take your bra off. you moved your arm to cover your breasts "no need to cover up. god you're gorgeous" he whispered pressing a finger to your nipple rubbing in circles over it before pinching it between his fingers. you let out a small moan watching him as he looked up at you with a teasing smile. "so sensitive" he lapped his tongue around your nipple sucking and pulling on it while he played with the other one.

your moans began to fill the room "you're already a mess and i've barely even touched you" he teased, lightly biting your nipple. he moved you off him laying you back onto the pillows. he hooked a finger into the waistband of your sweatpants tugging them off you. he looked at the pool of moisture that stained your pretty pink panties "god baby you're soaking" he chuckled, pulling those off you too. you looked away biting your lip in embarrassment "look at me princess" he pulled your chin back to face him. he got on all fours lifting your leg over his shoulder, pressing kisses down it until he got to your entrance.

he pressed his thumb against your clit causing your body to jump in response. he licked at your entrance while continuing to rub his finger over your clit. he sucked and licked at your pussy like it was his first meal in weeks. a moan ripped out of you before you slapped a hand to your face. he squeezed a hand around each of your thighs, them caving him in as he continued to work on making you cum. your hand shot down to his head, taking a handful of his hair in your grip.

"fuck miguel, i think i'm gonna cum" you moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. "go ahead princess, cum all over my tongue" he spoke against your cunt, the vibrations sending you crazy, his facial hair tickling against you. you reached your climax and miguel lapped it up, taking every last drop in his mouth.

he wrapped you back up in his arms shoving his tongue in your mouth. "it's not fair that i'm naked and you've still got all your clothes on" you frowned reaching for the hem of his shirt. he chuckled, helping you out with the shirt before taking off his jeans and dropping them to the floor. he opened his nightstand and reached for a condom "why don’t you ride me baby, you wanna take some control for your first time?" he asked, pulling his dick out of his boxers. you gulped looking at his length, how was that supposed to fit inside you.

"uh huh" you mumbled. he laid back on the bed, taking your hand and guiding you on top of him. you straddled him before he grabbed his dick and lined himself up with your entrance. “i’ll be gentle princess” he said, moving your hair out of your face. you eased down onto his dick, his inches splitting you apart. “fuck oh my god” you whined. you rode up and down his length leaning forward to place your hands on his chest. he wrapped his hands around your waist holding you and helping you create your pace.

the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together and both of your moans and whimpers filled the room. his dick slipped out before you grabbed it again and put it back inside you. you sunk further down on it, hitting right on your g spot. you threw your head back, a pornographic moan coming from you. “fuck you sound heavenly, feel it too” miguel groaned. “m-miguel i’m gonna cum” you whined biting your lip. “go ahead baby, cum all on this dick” he whimpered. and so you did.

he leaned up to grab you and flipped you over so you were laying on the bed with him on top. he threw your legs over his shoulder so he could really drive into your cunt. he rest his hand on the headboard, leaning down to kiss you, now sloppy and rushed. “fuck, you are tight” he moaned. soon he reached his climax as well, throwing his head back, his pace slowing down.

he got up and threw the condom away, grabbing a rag with warm water on his way back. he cleaned you off and got you a pair of fresh underwear. he cleaned himself off too putting his boxers on before climbing into the bed with you. he put an arm out indicating he wanted you to lay in it, so you did and you rest your head on his chest. “so did i do a good job pleasing you for your first time” he asked, grabbing your hand to hold. you looked up at him and nodded your head “yes, i loved it” you smiled.

he traced things along your bare back until he heard your soft snores and felt your light breathing on his chest. he smiled to himself before he too fell asleep with you wrapped up in his arms.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: memories flood back of when you were younger, Eddie wants to talk but silence holds merit.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: cold before the warm

masterlist

The nub end of graphite scrawls against a crinkled back page of paper. Ripped haphazardly from a composition book labeled: Language Arts—E.M.

The yellow pencil was pocked with teeth marks, having been between a pair of teeth that weren’t yours, mind not even gathering the germs that could be harbored in the pressed wood. 

Your tongue had been poked out for nearly three minutes according to the watch on Eddie’s wrist. Your brain working overtime trying to find the best phrase that would stump your friend in the game of Hangman. 

The alphabet was written in a hurry on the left side of the page, parallel to the hanging post. Beneath that were evenly scratched dashes on the blue printed line, waiting for their companion of letters to be filled by Eddie’s correct guesses. 

Putting the pencil down with a satisfying smack, you look up from your masterpiece confidently.

“Okay, I’m ready!” 

Eddie chomps a piece of Big Red loud between his teeth, unhooking his tangled feet from underneath himself and stretching out his skinny legs, jeans from the previous school year hacked into shorts for the summer, “took long enough.”

You make a face and flip him a suggestive finger, the nail chipped and painted pink from the last time your neighbor Michelle let you play with her nail polish, and in return you listened to her gab about her boyfriend while she combed her hair like Marcia Brady. 

“Don’t be a poor loser because you’ve lost the last four games, Clove.” 

He laughs when your eyebrows turn into a pout, the heel of your worn sneaker kicking into his. The same black pair of converse, yours a few sizes smaller, faded and tattered, fitting your feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the arch of your foot, years of wear accustomed to another’s foot print that belonged to the boy across from you. 

Letters are guessed and lines filled in. Eddie insists that you make the hangman have a face complete with nose, mouth and eyes realizing that he is close to eating his words from earlier. 

“Would you like the hangman to be wearing socks and a hat?” You ask honestly, hiding a smirk behind the paper. 

Eddie scoffs, working a bite mark into his bottom lip as he racks his brain for what kind of dumb phrase you conjured up, “I quit on terms that you’re a cheater.” 

The insult was harsh, not worse than the words that you heard around your kitchen table or ones that ricocheted off the thin walls when you were on the cusp of dreaming. No, this word hurt. Stung into your skin like a wasp, repeating its terror until you were swollen and skin ached of heat. 

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging to your lashes ready to drop. The paper clenched in your fist as you shoved it under Eddie’s nose, proving your innocence. 

“I am not!” 

“Sure you are,” he takes the paper from you, folding it roughly into an uneven shape and shoving it between the couch cushions behind him, “Cheatin’ Clove. Has a nice little ring to it doesn’t it?” 

Before Eddie can say anymore, a can of Coca Cola is thrown at his head hitting him with a thud, followed by your whimpers and the sound of your feet clapping against the dirty linoleum. 

“Clove! ow! Wait!” 

The screen door scratched your palms as you twisted it open. Jumping from the stairs and landing hard in the dirt, you didn’t bother bringing your bike home. Choosing to run the short distance instance instead, shutting the front door with a heavy slam. 

Tears soaked your pillowcase before you drifted to sleep, curled up on top of the patchwork quilt on your bed. 

Eddie. 

His name was trapped in your mouth, dry along your tongue, unable to force its way out. 

He was a ghost to you, memories that were buried and dormant were now flooding back at full speed, pinging around your brain firing each nerve tucked away deep, landing you a migraine behind your eyes. 

Seven years. 

Seven fucking years, since you had seen those doe shaped eyes, brown muddied colors still lost in a child’s innocence and wonderment— barely aged from the last time you had seen him. That memory burned into your retinas, like fuel to a pained flame. 

His hair was longer, well past his shoulders now, fringe of his bangs still thick on his forehead. His knuckles were covered in tattoos, the little you can see of his neck is also full of dark wisps of ink.

He says your nickname, the one only he knew. A joke between best friends. 

You try to open your mouth, fighting like hell to will anything to come out, but nothing does, the words choke against your throat, caught against each other in a tangled string of sharp edges.

“uh— I—E..”  

His eyes grew bigger than they already were, waiting for you to say something, anything. It was as if time stood still, all the pain from years prior coming back.

Images of Eddie, his smile, the bloody gash on his knee from his longboard, small memories, painful ones that could bring someone less strong to their knees: all flash behind your eyes.  

The pain from all those years ago was searing through you like a knife. Memories that you kept buried away were suddenly throttling you like they had just happened, the wounds that were licked clean were now fresh and open, blood flowing freely.

Before hot tears can spill down your face, you spin wildly on your heel, walking fast and turning back to the bar. The tray slamming onto the back counter with a loud bang, snapping.  

Your breath was erratic, heart racing. Whatever lingering high you had was gone. Emotions you hadn’t felt in years coursing through you demanding to be felt. 

Why was he back? 

You didn’t know the purpose of his return to Hawkins, only registering how hurt you felt that he was. The day he left still stung your spine, sending shivers all over your body. 

Did he ever think of you? In the seven years he had been gone did you bleep on his radar even once?

Hanging your head your fingers tap nervously on the lacquered wood, trying to calm yourself down before you work yourself up anymore than you already were. 

“Be right back,” you called over your shoulder to Jolene, head down walking fast to the cooler. 

The chilled air made your skin prick with goosebumps but you couldn’t care, the only thing you could feel was your heart shattering to pieces all over again. 

The floor was cold under your body, shelves and beer boxes held you up as you fell apart. Deep shuddering breaths in and winded ones out, you don’t wipe the tears as they free fall down the apples of your cheeks—dragging black eyeliner and mascara with them til they trickle from your chin. 

The callus of your life made it hard to feel, even harder to cry. But once the gate was open, it was challenging to close. A dam of pent up emotions broke free out of you like an angry flood, full of irreparable damage, forgotten feelings and an exploding heart. Taking with it years of questions, hopes and dreams. 

Scenery wasn’t the only thing that was altered in his time away. You evolved, having to peel off layers of naivety and fear. Would he care if he knew? 

Wiping another sludge of wet makeup from under your eyes you catch the tattoo on your hand. 

It burned on your skin. Prickling like it hadn’t been ten years since you’d gotten it.  Years that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

It practically was.

The boy who did them was long gone, and the man in his place was someone you didn’t even know. 

—

It was you. 

The only person in all of Hawkins who made it bearable. What should have been a joyful reunion was clouded over with painful memories. Of course there were good ones, but mostly the bad out weighed anything happy. 

You had always been the little bit of sunshine that broke through on a cloudy day, the only person he trusted with silly secrets, trusted with anything.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were here. Not just in Hawkins. But working here. 

A surge of rage filled his stomach but was quickly washed out by pain as you stomped away, looking as if you had seen a ghost, a part of your past that you didn’t want to remember. 

Was that what he was to you? A painful memory, one that was more sour than everything else that happened? 

Jeff’s voice is muffled in his ears, as if he’s trying to speak underwater. He can’t wrap his head around this whole thing. The guilt eating him alive. 

Eddie clears his throat and takes a generous sip of beer, trying to stop his hands from shaking, chilled sweat creeping down his back. He fiddles with a napkin, ripping the end into small shreds and rolling them up like a kid would for a spit wad. 

He could map out every scar on your arms and legs, tell anyone the exact color of your eyes, in sunlight and in a dark room. He knew your favorite song, that you were afraid of the dark and that your front teeth didn’t come in for almost three months after he had helped you pull them out.

You had taught him how to hang upside down on the monkey bars behind the trailer park. He taught you how to play his guitar, and if he thought hard enough he could remember the smell of your shampoo. 

You were everything to him.

Bestfriends since the cradle, made up handshakes and secrets sworn to the grave. But years, tear spilled miles and the guilt of broken promises wedged a distance between you. 

One that couldn’t be made better by the letters he sent that went unanswered. And it definitely wouldn’t get fixed in one random night when fate lead him to this fucking dump, back under your nose.

It hurt not seeing the sparkle in your eyes, but he could only blame himself. 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

Jeff motions for Eddie to lean in, doing so he jerks his head to the bar where you are standing stone-still hovering over a counter with your back turned to them. “She looked familiar, right? Did she go to school with us?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to shove down his emotions with another gulp of beer, “she did.” 

Jeff leans back, “Chloe? Cassie, Chasity… no. Claire? Shit what was her name?” 

Eddie’s eyes fell to the smudgy tattoo, he rubs his thumb over the ink, “Clove.”

“That’s right!” clapping his hands together, “knew it was something weird.” 

Eddie let himself smile. Small and weak, his lip ticking up on one side. He rubbed the tattoo again, remembering that day like it was yesterday. 

—

The summer breeze blows hotly through the makeshift curtains, sending the loose paper on the dresser scattering like desert tumbleweeds across Eddie’s bedroom floor, joining the litter of car magazines and unwashed clothes taking up space in the tiny room. 

“gotta sit still Slick, or this won’t work.” 

You were biting through your lip, trying to muffle a cry from breaking out, “ow..it hurts!” 

It was your idea to get matching tattoos with your best friend, and it was Eddie who said he could do them no problem. He had already tattooed a heart on Dave with his girlfriend's name through the center last month—never mind that she dumped him a week later. The sobs coming from trailer 11 didn’t ever seem to end. 

“Well yeah,” Eddie chuckles, clearing his throat and puffing behind a cigarette, “what did you expect it would be done with? A marker?”

Your right hand rested on his bent knee for precision. The other was clamped tight over your eyes in hopes that if you didn’t see how it was done, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. 

The warmth of your sweaty nervous palm on his jeans felt hot, as if you were being burnt alive. But, despite the pain from the needle going in and out of your skin, Eddie was gentle. 

His shoulder provided comfort as you leaned your head onto it, slowly wetting his shirt with your tears. You curl your body into his side, knees stabbing into his ribs, head pressed tight to the side of his neck, hand fisting the sleeve of his shirt for support as you intake a sharp breath when he finishes the curve of the dainty heart. 

“Need a break?” he asks, setting the needle down on the carpet, rubbing a pattern with his thumb on your hand. “I made some Kool-Aid yesterday, your favorite kind.” 

Lynyrd Skynyrd plays softly in the background and Eddie strums along on your palm to the guitar solo. 

Muffled against his cotton shirt, your voice is hoarse from the tears, “orange?” 

He chuckles around a cloud of smoke, “hell yeah, picked some up yesterday morning before my shift, got a few packets for your place too, I know how much Lolly likes it.” 

“Speaking of,” you uncross your legs to stand, “I gotta go check on her.” 

Eddie stands up with you, a whole head taller than you were, you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and slot it into your own, inhaling the tobacco expertly into your lungs as you examine the small tattoo on your skin.

“‘m not done yet, but what do ya think?” 

Blood and ink were smeared around it messily, but it looked identical to the one he had on his left hand, yours only missing the clover. 

A smile stretches across your lips and you feel the burn of tears from in your eyes, “it’s perfect, Eddie.”  

He opens his bedroom door, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth and squishing it into the heaping ashtray on his nightstand. “you really think so?” he whispers.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” 

He blows his lips in a raspberry, long legs walking down the dingy carpet hallway to the kitchen, “let those prissy bitches try to pick on you now… nobody wants to fight someone with tattoos.” 

The girls at school weren’t nice in elementary school and they somehow got nastier with every year. You went from being “stinky girl” to “trailer skank” overnight. 

A far cry from any sort of originality, but that’s how Hawkins was, ruled by the dim and dumb, daddy’s bank account used as a hierarchy status. 

You always brushed them off, keeping mostly to yourself and to your best friend. Eddie took it upon himself to conjure up a frenzied retort that would have them scoffing in disgust. 

With Eddie, nothing else mattered, he didn’t care if your clothes didn’t fit right, or if your ponytail looked scraggly. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. You were just two neglected trailer park kids, but to him, you were important. 

“You're an artist Eddie, could probably make a lot of money doing this someday.” 

The idea fell silent between you, both knowing in your hearts what path your life would lead you down. Stuck in the nightmare of what went on behind the thin walls in the trailer park.

Peering over the counter you can see Lolly. Sleeping just as soundly as she had when you laid her down. The stolen playpen from the yard sale on Cornwalis turned out to be worth the uncomfortable bike ride back to Forest Hills with Eddie standing on his pedals and you on the handlebars holding onto dear life as he raced back home. 

Her chubby cheeks were pressed against the yellow floral sheet, little curls twisted into two tiny pigtails, milk dribbling slow from her puckered lips. 

You smile at the sight of such innocence, wishing that you too were unaware of what life was actually like, and knowing that you would do anything to keep your little sister safe from this reality for as long as possible. 

“Can’t believe she cried that long, usually she loves pb&j’s..” Eddie points to your head, trying not to laugh, “you still have peanut butter in your hair by the way.” 

Lolly had thrown every last bit of her sandwich in a temper tantrum fueled by a lack of sleep. Her aim being perfect with you as her target. 

Twenty minutes with your head under the bathroom sink and Eddie cackling as he squeezed shampoo on your head apparently wasn’t enough to get the sticky treat out.  

“Little shit,” you huff, a smirk on your lips, turning to the fridge, and reaching for the sugary orange drink from the shelf, shutting the door with your hip, “think she might be cuttin’ some teeth at least that’s what Patty said last time she babysat.” 

Eddie reached for the plastic cups that were nabbed from Benny’s after one of his busboy shifts, holding them steady as you poured the juice.

Only spilling a little, you lifted the end of your shirt to mop the counter up. “Kids are weird,” Eddie says, smacking his lips with an orange mustache after a long swig, “remind me never to have ‘em.” 

Snorting through your nose you swallow harshly, a quirk to your eyebrow, “having kids is totally normal, all of our neighbors do.”

He thought quietly before speaking again, “yeah, and nobody is ever around..” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna leave here someday, you and me.” 

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, Slim.” 

Eddie talked crazy like this sometimes. Always dreaming bigger than you could even fathom. Head permanently stuck in the clouds, wishing, hoping for something better than the cards you were both dealt. But you on the other hand, your feet, in hand-me-down shoes, never left the ground. 

His voice was stern when he spoke to you, eyes pleading, and you had never heard him like that before. 

“I’m serious, I’ll die before I stay here,” he moves forward, holding your biceps as he looks down at you, dark eyes wide, almost wild, “I promise you, we won’t end up like this...okay?” 

—

He couldn’t blame you for the way you reacted when your eyes met his. Seeing you tonight hurt more than he could have ever imagined it too. To be honest, he didn’t expect you to still be in Hawkins, but then again— where would you have gone? 

“…you still there dude?” 

Eddie’s eyes shift to Jeff, plastering a smirk to his lips to hide the pain etched so evidently on his face, “yeah, I just uh— tired I guess.” 

He scanned the bar for you, still seeing your frame behind the counter, this time turned around handing a round of beers to a couple of college punks. 

“How far is the drive?” 

Bless Jeff for trying to keep this conversation alive, but Eddie’s mind was anywhere but here at this table. 

Questions he never thought to ask, suddenly poured into his mind. Did you finish high school? Where were you living? How’s Lolly? How old is she now? How have you been? 

He felt sick that he didn’t know the answer to any of them. Guilt devouring away at him like a flesh eating amoeba. 

“Six—no, probably seven hundred miles.. give or take.” 

Had you applied to college? Were you still living in the trailer park?  

“Damn,” Jeff said, scrubbing his hands down his face, “gonna have to visit you sometime, show me around all the cool places… you ever been out to LA? My girlfriend, well ex now, we went a year ago around Christmas time she really loved...”

Although Eddie didn’t know the answers, he figured maybe Jeff would. 

He shakes his head, interrupting his friend, hand raised in apology, “hey, uh wh— whatever happened to her?” He hooks a thumb in your direction in the most nonchalant way he could, even though his entire body was fidgeting in anticipation. 

Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Clove? Oh umm, shit… well I think, no.. yeah no, she didn’t graduate. I remember hearing that she had dropped out, and now she works here apparently.” 

A smirk forms on his lips and he points behind him to the back corner, “forgot to tell you, rumor has it this place is more than just a strip joint,” his dark eyebrows wiggle, “if y'know what I mean.” 

For the first time tonight, Eddie noticed girls coming and going from the beaded doorway, vacant expressions on their smudged faces. Trailing behind were drunk men with glazed eyes and sweaty foreheads, readjusting the threads of their belts and slacks. 

He scans the bar with wild eyes in search of you. Hoping and praying to whoever would listen that you weren’t a part of this. You couldn’t be. 

Who is he kidding? 

If you were still in Hawkins, still under the weight and scrutiny of the inner dealings that started in the trailer park, you were very much involved. 

Realization hit him like a freight train. His stomach clenched and warped with the dreaded grief and guilt he still carried. Deep down he had figured this was what your life had come to. Lying to himself in thinking that you had gotten away from all of this. But seeing it firsthand, in the flesh—he couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

Choking back vomit, he slides from the booth hastily, practically spilling his beer all over the table in his desperate attempt to find you. 

“shit!” Jeff shouted, “dude, you alright?” 

He wasn’t. 

He stumbles from the table, tripping over his own boots and knocking into one of the burly bearded men at the bar, sending his drink tumbling to the ground. Glass and liquor covering the floor like the sparkle of a fresh snow. 

“What’s your problem asshole!?” 

His fiery red hair matched his temper, and the weathered roughness of his cheeks, “ever been inside a bar, tough guy?”  

Before Eddie can whip up a witty retort, Mr. Big Red comes back for more, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the high counter of the bar, “hey honey, better stop serving this prick, he can’t handle his liquor like a real man.” 

The swinging doors open and there you are again, struggling beneath the keg you’re carrying. He wanted to jump up and grab it from you, but Eddie was still pinned to the bar by the guy's hand on his bicep, tightening more and more. 

Your eyes reach his and it’s like you don’t even see him. 

“Agh, c’mon Mick,” you say, a warm smile on your lips, “I like ‘em nice and drunk, that’s when they tip the best.”

You set the keg down with a metallic thud on the floor, grabbing a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. The mahogany liquid pours smoothly, much like the dark eyes watching you, and heat crawls up your neck. 

Sliding one towards Mick, you hold the other up by your black painted fingers, Clinking them together with a ‘cheers’ and bringing the glass to your lips, allowing your eyes to finally glance towards Eddie. 

He was taller now. His shoulders, more broad, filling in the teenage lithe muscles that fit his frame then. His baby face disappeared entirely, now his chin was stretched with a sharp jaw, which was currently clenched like he was holding back anger, his throat bobbing in a dance of tattooed skin. 

You swallow the liquor in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slips down your throat, the same fire that’s staring from across the counter. Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes from yours.

A twitch forms in your eyelid and you blink it away, setting the glass down hard on the wooden countertop.

You lean your body across the bar, collecting the glassware that’s accumulated since you had been hiding in the cooler. Placing them gently into the warm sudsy sink to wash before filling the small dishwasher below. 

Mickey was already turned back around, talking loudly to Wendy and trying to get her to sit on his lap for five bucks. His grip on Eddie’s arm turns limp when you slide him another shot, just for good measure. 

The bar is chaotic, loud and boisterous, but the air between you and Eddie is quiet, stagnant, no warmth from you. Icicles could form from your frigid silence. 

He knocks his knuckles against the bar, big gaudy rings clacking along, keeping in rhythm to the music playing overhead, but you don’t give in. Don’t humor him by asking how or why he knew Rock Me Amadeus.

“Hey V,” you call out to your work partner, “get this stranger a drink before he gets a parking ticket.” 

Swiveling away from him, you squat down to maneuver the keg to where it needed to go, rocking it on its rounded edge and swiveling it into place. 

Veronica’s voice is cheery and dripping with sex appeal as she asks Eddie what he wants to drink, and you can’t misplace the deepness of his voice, and the polite way he tells her that he’s fine for the evening. 

Cracking the top of the keg, you hook it up to the correct tap, shoving with all your might to get it in under the cabinet and slotted in properly. 

Spending more time than necessary below the bar, you avoid the warm chocolate eyes waiting for you up above. 

What were you supposed to say to him? Thank God you’re home? What the hell did he even want?  

An ant is huddled around a spilled drop of grenadine, you watch as it collects the sticky treat—what you wouldn’t give to switch places with the insect for a few hours. 

If one thing was certain you would need a little encouragement to make it through tonight and the haunting memories that shuddered through you every time you looked at Eddie.

Your purse was in the cubby over to the right, nimble fingers find the familiar plastic of the bottle, screwing off the top and clicking three pills into your hand. 

A greedy palm finds your lips, your eager tongue accepting the drugged gift. Swallowing without any liquid, your spit was more than enough to coat the tablets, watering upon knowing the relief you’ll be met with. 

More shouts and hollers boom through your ears, this time in celebration. 

“Where’d you go sweet cheeks? Need a round, Bobby just found out his girl isn’t pregnant!” 

Duty called, and you knew those dark eyes were still waiting for you, hide and seek was done for now, and in a few short minutes, you’d feel like you were flying. 

Boots planted firm on the sticky tiles, you push yourself up, fully expecting a litter of questions. But when you face him, he’s quiet. Silently watching your every move. 

Not in a way you’re watched by every other slimeball in this town, his eyes never once flicking over your curves or the deep v of your shirt. 

Eddie was admiring the woman you’d become. The shy girl he once knew was replaced by a force to be reckoned with. Did you become that way because he left? No longer having him around to stick up for you?

He pushed out those thoughts, thoughts of you alone. 

The way you fleetingly moved from drunk to drunk, collecting tips and pouring drinks, you were a natural. no longer the girl that was afraid of spiders and slept with a nightlight. What should have been a comfort in his heart stretched into an angry bruise against his soul. 

Warmth riddled your face into a smirk as you dug jabs back at the guys, making them pay up front before they tried to slink away to the back rooms. 

Eddie couldn’t miss how the smile never reached your eyes, that glassy lost look couldn’t fool him, another ping of guilt cutting through him like a knife. 

You were elbow deep in the warm water now, fingers pruned and slicked with soap when he finally speaks. The counter had cleared up enough that he wasn’t squashed between some greasy assholes, the regulars fighting to get to the best seats closest to the stage.  Tiffany on her second set of the night, her shiny heels spinning in the air to Girls, Girls, Girls. 

“So I’m a stranger now?”

Your fingers slip on the smooth surface of a glass and it hits the bottom of the sink with a thud at the sound of his voice, thankfully not breaking. Looking up, the smile fades as you stare back at him, fully allowing yourself to take him all in.  “what else would you be?” 

“Gee, I don’t know, Slick,” his hands twirl the rings on his left hand, “a friend.” 

Your laugh is filled without humor, sheer mockery as you shake your hands above the sink ridding them of suds and water. 

“Friend…” the scoff is thick in your throat, swallowing a ball of vomit before you continue, “that’s rich isn’t it?” 

“Clove..”

“…y’know…I had one of those once,” you say, eyes dead behind your irises, moving to the spouts of the draft beer, “at least I thought he was.” 

“Can we talk?” he pleads. 

“..think I’ve heard more than enough…” slapping down two heavy beers in front of him, you glare into muddy brown eyes, trying not to let yourself feel the pain in your chest, “these two are on the house.” 

Without a second glance or even a fuck you, you stomp towards the dressing room, leaving him sitting alone to sit alone at the bar, and for a split second you allow yourself to feel good it. His turn to be left in the dust this time. 

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[seeingivy]

christmas kiss

eren jaeger x f!reader 

in which you attend your fake boyfriend, eren’s, family christmas party 

content: fluff, fake dating, little sister gabi, annoying older brother zeke, dead dad :0, drinking, eren calls you bunny unironically

- 

You stand on the porch nervously, balancing the bowl of tiramisu in your hands. Breathe in and breathe out. You can do this. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. 

You set the bowl on the side ledge, reaching down to readjust and fix your sister, Gabi’s, hair. 

She had been jumping up and down in excitement since you invited her to come along, which led to her dress riding up and her hair sticking out of her braids. 

At this moment, you realize this was probably the wrong outfit choice for her. You knew she could barely sit still for an hour at a time - you’d likely be fixing this outfit throughout the night. You readjust the collar, pushing her flyaways securely behind her ears. 

The two of you had gone out to buy new outfits for the dinner, feeling the need to have you and Gabi looking your absolute best. You had gotten Gabi a simple black dress and braided her usually unruly hair back into two pigtail french braids. You’d even let her borrow some of your lipgloss for the occasion. You had opted for a deep red dress and chose to free your hair from the usual ponytail you sported. 

“Are you nervous to meet Eren’s parents?” 

You feel your fingers shaking as you tuck in her collar and her hair, which you’re sure was the dead giveaway. Are you nervous to meet Eren’s parents? Of course you are. 

Eren Jaeger is your boyfriend. Your fake boyfriend, but that’s just semantics. What they don’t know can’t hurt them. He’s a full time Computer Science student, an intern at Fritz Technetics, and a straight menace on the soccer field. He’s been playing first string since your first semester of college.  

For the past month and a half, the two of you had been parading around, going on fake-dates, and planting kisses on each other's cheeks whenever you were in the vicinity of Jean and Mikasa. They were the reason you started fake dating in the first place. 

Jean Kirschtein. Your best friend. Who you were hopelessly in love with. On the first day of your General Chemistry lecture, you sat next to Jean, who had seemingly forgotten his entire backpack for his first class of the day. He turned to you, a nervous look plastered on his place, begging for a pencil. Safe to say, you had been in love with him since then. 

Mikasa Ackerman. She grew up with Eren, the two of them inseparable since they were younger. He thought that they had an unspoken agreement, that they were the only ones for each other. But she never truly reciprocated his feelings, which was made aware to him when she started dating Jean at the beginning of the quarter. He was heartbroken. 

This led to you and Eren making a deal. You remember his green eyes staring into yours, convincing you to do it. Jealousy will have them running back. People want what they can’t have. 

You and Eren shook on it, in the dead of night. You hate to say it, but it had actually been working, in the slightest of ways. You had definitely confused Jean, who suddenly became all too possessive of you, and Mikasa was all too intrigued to hear about the new girl Eren was seeing. 

This dinner? The cherry on top. Every Christmas Eve, Eren’s parents invite a few of their close friends to dinner at their house. Mikasa’s family is always on the guest list. By extension, that means Jean would be here too, being her boyfriend and all. In lieu of that, Eren invited you and Gabi to attend, promising you that it was about to be the show of a lifetime.

But how do you tell your fake boyfriend you can’t come to his parents Christmas Eve dinner because you’re getting real feelings for him? You can’t. So you don’t. And you show up anyways, with a bowl of tiramisu, an overly eager little sister, and a stomach full of knots. 

“A little bit, Gabs. Best behavior okay?” 

She nods, using her hands to brush your flyaways behind your ears. You smile at the gesture and stand up to grab the bowl again. Your hands shake as you ring the doorbell, it chiming against the door. 

A tall, blonde man opens the door. He’s wearing silver, circular glasses, and sporting a full grown beard on his face. At the sight of you, a grin spreads over his face. 

“She’s here!” he screams in a sing-song voice, his voice echoing towards the kitchen, where a large amount of sound suddenly broke out. He pulls you and Gabi in from the cold, smiling brightly at the two of you. 

“I’m Zeke. Eren’s brother.” 

Eren had given you a brief rundown of everyone who would be in attendance at his dinner and had warned you about his half-brother. Apparently, Zeke loved to tease Eren, hence his excitement at your presence. You extend your free hand to him, returning his smile. 

“Hi Zeke. I’m Y/N and this is my little sister Gabi.” 

“No need to introduce yourself. We’d know who you were a mile away, Y/N.” 

Zeke swiftly takes the bowl of tiramisu from your hands and bends down to Gabi’s height. 

“I’ve got the perfect friend for you. Follow me. Eren’s in the kitchen with Carla, Y/N. Just through the hallway there.” he says, as he drags Gabi - and the bowl - away with him. 

There goes your conversation starter for Eren’s mom. You take a few deep breaths, before slowly padding into the kitchen. Carla and Eren have their backs turned, too engrossed in their conversation and the dinner they were dishing out into platters. 

You lightly knock on the wall next to you to signal your presence. Eren turns around first, a big smile spreading across his face at the sight of you. That smile would be the death of you. 

He walks over to you, crushing you in a hug. His smell envelops you, his heart beating against your ear, his embrace warm. 

“Hi bunny. I like your hair. Get in okay?” 

You nod, giving him a weak smile. You ignore the pounding at your heart from the nickname and the fact that he noticed you changed your hair. 

Eren’s mom pushes past him, it being her turn to crush you in a hug. She holds onto you for longer, her hand moving up and forth on your back.You make eye contact with Eren, who is trying his best to hide the smile on his face. She breaks apart, still holding you in her arms and smiling at you. 

“I’m Carla, Y/N. I can’t tell you how nice it is to meet you. You’re absolutely beautiful.” 

You can feel your face getting flushed, your cheeks a bright pink. You step back a little bit, nervous from their matching eyes boring into yours. Eren leans over, slinging his arm around his mom. 

“Stop being weird, Ma. I told you she gets shy. You’re going to scare her away.” 

You ignore Eren, squeezing her fingers that are still interlocked with yours. 

“It’s so nice to meet you too, Mrs. Yeager. I brought a bowl of tiramisu but I’m not exactly sure where it went. Zeke took it from me when he let me in.” 

Your brief response causes Eren and Carla to start talking over each other. 

“What did that bloody monkey say to you-” 

“Oh my goodness, you’re too sweet…” 

“Did he say anything weird to you? I’ll kill him. And where’s Gabi?” 

“And call me Carla. I’d love to hear all about you and Eren-” 

You laugh at the two of them, the two of them stopping in their tracks. They both give each other a knowing look, before leading you into the kitchen. You have a feeling they do this all the time. 

“Eren tells me you and your sister are really good at making gingerbread houses. I was hoping you guys would join our competition later.” 

“We’d love to!” 

Eren walks over, a few packaged items in his hands. 

“Want to help me set up?” 

You nod, the two of you setting the ingredients down and getting to work.  

Carla smiles, not before giving the two of you another hug, and tuts away to the other side of the kitchen to finish dinner. You can feel your heart tingling and your hands shaking as you lay out the gingerbread cookies, the interaction you just had with Eren’s mom replaying in your mind. 

“What’cha thinking, bunny? You’re shaking.” 

You had mentioned to Eren that the holidays were an emotional time for you and Gabi. This time last year, your father had passed away in a car accident. Your families were very close, your parents being the best picture of co-parenting to exist, and the two of you took it pretty hard. You had been living with Gabi and her family since then. 

“Your mom is so nice, Eren. For inviting us and telling me I look pretty and hugging me like that.” 

He leans against the counter, looking over at you. 

“Uh huh. She was super excited to have you come. Really.” 

You smile. You crack open the box of chocolates, the two of you working in silence. Eren stays for a few minutes, your fingers brushing against each other, before attending to the door for the rest of the guests that were filing in. 

He had been tasked with handing out the champagne to everyone as they got here. Well really, Zeke was supposed to do it but he was apparently too busy playing Mario Kart with Gabi and Falco. 

You know some of the people coming based on the list Eren had told you beforehand, which eases the knots in your stomach a little bit. Eren’s family, obviously, was made up of his parents, Grisha and Carla, and his half-brother Zeke who you met earlier. His dad was going to be late from getting stuck with the night shift. 

He had a cousin in town, Falco, who Eren said was likely with Gabi right now since they were the same age. The rest of his family had gone out of town and were unable to take him, hence his presence here. 

Mikasa and her parents would be here as well, Jean being her plus one. The last people in attendance would be Armin and his parents. You had met Armin a few times, since he was Eren’s roommate and all.

As you set out the ingredients, Carla praised you for how wonderful they all looked. I mean, all you did was set out the cookies on a tray but she just couldn’t help it. Eren put his hand on Carla’s shoulders, dragging her away from you all while scolding her about how she was embarrassing him. 

- 

The fourteen of you settled around the Yeager’s grand dining table, you being nestled in between Gabi and Eren. You were right across from Jean, Mikasa, and Armin, who were all chatting amongst themselves. 

Gabi had become good friends with Eren’s cousin, Falco. The two of them were currently playing a game that was lost to you entirely. You nudge Eren, signaling your head towards the two of them. He looks over and then returns your smile, getting the message you were hinting at. 

The two of them had their fingers interlocked and were engaged in an all too serious staring contest. When you asked them why they had to hold hands to have a staring contest, they were too quick to let go, the tops of their ears pink. 

Can she even like Falco if Eren is your boyfriend? Is that some weird incest thing? Well, Gabi is only your half-sister and Falco is really Zeke’s cousin and Zeke is only Eren’s half-brother.

And Eren isn’t your real boyfriend, so it doesn’t matter. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” 

You look up, totally caught off guard by Jean’s comment. Your eyes meet his, his gaze hazy and his cheeks a bright pink. You can tell he had a little too much to drink earlier, when Eren was handing out the champagne.

Instead of being flattered by the comment, your heart pounding in your chest, all you can do is turn to Eren, who has a very angry look plastered on his face. You reach for his hand under the table and squeeze twice, which seems to ease some of the annoyance off of him. 

“Say, I like your dress too, little L/N.” says Jean, turning over to Gabi. 

“My last name isn’t L/N. It’s Braun.” 

“Oh, I thought you were sisters.” 

“We are sisters.” you reply, a mere whisper breaking the silence. He doesn’t hear you, the confused look still on his face. 

You can feel the pitcher you grabbed shaking in your hands, threatening to spill all over the table. The room was suddenly too hot, leaving you feeling like you were a fly under a lamp. Gabi’s your half-sister. You live with her because your dad died. Your dad is dead. 

You’d actually spill the water on the table if it weren’t for Eren. He wordlessly took it from you, pouring it into your glass and placing it in your hand, which he made sure was steadied before letting go. 

“Gabi is her half-sister. Y/N lives with them.”

The conversation you’re having is cut off by the sound of Carla, clinking her fork against the end of her glass. You all crane your heads towards her at the end of the table, as she glances over at all of you. 

“It’s time to say grace. Whose turn is it?” 

“Zeke.” 

“No Dad, it’s Eren.” 

“No, it’s Zeke. I said grace last year about how thankful I was that you were moving out for your remember.” 

The four of them silence, turning their necks towards Zeke to say grace. He glares daggers at Eren, before joining hands with those around him. You look over at Gabi, interlocking your fingers with hers before doing the same with Eren. His hand is warm, his thumb rubbing circles against the back of your hand. 

Your hands are shaking for some reason, your blood rushing too fast as it all happens. The room was warm, your dress was burning your skin, the quiet was too loud. You feel Eren squeeze your hand twice before shaking your head. You were okay. You just needed a second. 

You flutter your eyes closed as Zeke starts saying grace. 

“This year, forgive me for taking simple joys for granted. I’m thankful for parents who seeked me out and supported me, even if I wasn’t entirely their own, a brother who begrudgingly supported me like no other, and a family I’ve dreamed of keeping. What a blessing to be included at a table like this.” 

Everyone releases their hands, their eyes fluttering open. You watch Mikasa and Jean’s eyes widen at the sight of you, feeling Eren and Gabi’s hands clasp in yours once again. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” 

You look over, Eren’s green eyes filled with concern. It’s only when you reach up to touch your face that you feel the tears on your cheeks. You were crying. Zeke said grace and you literally started crying. You stand up, excusing yourself from the table as you tell them all to continue on without you. 

 - 

You shut the door behind you, leaning against the white door. Your tears are still running and you thank that you decided to keep your makeup light tonight. 

In all honesty, it was just too overwhelming. Jean and Mikasa. Falco holding hands with Gabi and Zeke saying grace and thanking his parents and Eren’s hand in yours. 

Eren. You couldn't be really falling for him could you? That crooked smile, big doe eyes, and that long brown hair. You couldn’t. You liked Jean. He liked Mikasa. And that was that. This was all fake. 

So why did it feel too real all of a sudden?

As if you summoned him just by thinking about him, you can hear his knuckles knocking against the door, begging you to let him in. 

“It’s open, ‘Ren.” 

You hear him twist the lock, his eyes pinching at the sight of you sitting on the floor. He sits next to you, lacing his arm through yours. You let your head drop onto his shoulder, the tears falling out even more. 

The two of you sit in silence, Eren’s head resting against yours. You can feel him fingers in your hair, the sensation soothing the pounding in your head. 

“I’m sorry, Eren.” 

“What for, bunny?” he’s whispering, his lips ghosting over the top of your hair. 

“Crying. Getting up from the table. Embarrassing you in front of your mom and Mikasa.” 

He freezes, his hold in your hair tightening. 

“You don’t have to be sorry for any of those things. And nothing you do could embarrass me, especially to my mom. I’m sure if you flipped the table upside down and she would just praise you for how strong you were.” 

You laugh, readjusting your head against his shoulder. He’s a little less tense, his hand hovering around to the side of your waist before he pulls you closer. 

“Eren.” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“I miss my dad.” you whisper. 

At the sound of your words, he pulls you directly into his chest, nearly crushing you with his arms. His weight is heavy, but you can feel the pressure lightening in your chest. Eren’s warm. He smells good, he’s soft, and he/s warm. The two of you stay like that for a while, Eren’s arms around you. 

“Feel better?” 

You look up at him, giving him a smile through your teary eyes. You see his face visibly lighten at the sight of it. God, those eyes really were going to be the death of you. 

“It feels…lighter, Eren. Thank you.” 

The two of you stand up, reaching forward to fix each other’s clothes. Eren’s tie had been loosened, which you reached to fix. Your hair was all unkempt and your cheeks were still wet, which Eren fixed with his nimble fingers. 

Eren brushes the last of the wetness of your cheeks but still holds your face in his hands. He looks down at you, your heart bursting in your chest. He’s breathing hard, his face so close you can feel it on your cheeks. He leans forward and his eyes flutter shut. You swear he’s about to kiss you. He’s going to kiss you for real. No Jean. No Mikasa. Just you and him. 

The door slams open, Zeke standing at the door. You and him and Zeke. At the sight of you two, Eren’s hands still holding your face, your lips inches away from each other, you see a smirk grow across Zeke’s face. 

“Can’t keep your hands off your bunny, can you?” 

“I’ll make you regret the day you were born, Zeke.” 

“Just wanted to check base, see if you guys were okay. Carla’s fretting over you as we speak Y/N. Clearly you’re doing just fine.” 

You feel yourself pale at the thought, pushing past the two of them to re-enter the dining room. You can hear Eren and Zeke following, their whispers (yelling) right behind you.

“Dude, fuck you.” 

“What, Eren?” 

“You fucking cockblocked me.” 

You smile at the words. So Eren did want to kiss you. 

“She’s your girlfriend. You’re acting like you’ve never kissed  gerbefore.” 

“Fuck you. What if I really wanted to right then? You owe me, you goddamn monkey.” 

The three of you settle back into the dining table, which you’re happy to see is still loud. Your absence didn’t cause too much of a damper, which was all but a relief to you. 

Eren tucks you back into your chair and Gabi leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. You don’t miss the non-discrete thumbs up Gabi and Eren give each other. 

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“What was that about?” 

“Nothing. She was going to come after you, after you got up. Told her the boyfriends got it this time.” 

You roll your eyes, trying your hardest not to smile at his words. 

 - 

After dinner, Grisha - Eren’s dad - pulls out the camera to take pictures of each family. Apparently this is a tradition for the party, as they like to collect and frame the pictures along the years. 

Armin goes first, his parents sweetly wrapping their arms around their only son. Mikasa’s family goes next, with Jean in tow, the four of them standing in a line with small smiles on all of their faces. 

You walk forward, with Gabi’s hand in yours, to take a picture of just the two of you. You’re excited at the fact that the two of you would get a nice, professional looking picture together since you were all dressed up. 

“Did you guys want one alone too?” asks Carla, running her fingers through the ends of her own hair, patting it down. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not want us to take a picture?” 

She smiles, pinching the sides of your cheeks. 

“Of course I wanted you to take a picture! I just figured you would take it with our family!” 

You pause, turning your head to Eren. You can’t take a picture with Eren and his family. 

Was it bad that you...wanted to be in their picture? The five of them bore their eyes into yours, waiting for your response. 

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.” 

The five of them cheer, pulling you in front of the tree. Grisha and Carla sit in the middle, Gabi and Falco at their sides. You stand towards the back, Zeke on your left and Eren on your right. Eren slings his hands around your waist, his face a few inches from yours. 

As Armin clicks the picture, you feel Zeke’s arm leave your shoulder, suddenly hanging above you. You and Eren look up at the same time, to find Zeke holding a bundle of mistletoe above the two of you. 

You look over at Eren, who stares at you. He whispers, his hands locking with yours. 

“Do you want to kiss me, bunny?”

Somehow, the question feels more serious than what it is. He’s simply asking you if you’re up to kissing him in front of his parents, a deal you made when you guys made your contract for fake-dating. Always ask for consent, even in public. 

But it feels more serious than that, genuinely. His hands are shaking against yours, his eyes expectantly waiting for your response. LIke he’s waiting to jump, waiting for your call. 

If he jumps, you’ll jump too. 

“Yes.” 

You see him smile, bigger than you ever had before, his hands circling around your waist as he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is warm and soft, a hint of the hot cocoa he drank earlier still ghosting on his plush lips. The two of you break apart, smiling at each other. 

“You’re welcome, Eren.” deadpans Zeke, dropping the mistletoe and leaving the two of you by the tree. 

You turn back to Eren, giving him a confused look. 

“He owed me a favor. Cashed it in just now.”

Before you can respond, Carla and Grisha shove their arms around you, tears almost spilling out of Carla’s eyes. 

“Oh I’m going to print this picture for your wedding.” 

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has a surprise of his own. And while you're already not feeling well, he hates to bring home some bad news for you.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, and swearing

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

When you heard Bradley pull the Bronco back into the driveway, it was well past noon, and you had finally managed to get up and get dressed for the day. The trip to Maryland had you exhausted, both mentally and physically. You felt like you could sleep for the rest of the day as you rubbed your eyes behind your glasses.

Tramp ran for the front door when he heard Bradley coming inside. "I'm glad you're back, Roo. He needs to go out for a walk," you called from the kitchen where you were making yourself some fresh coffee. "Do you want some coffee?"

He came in wearing jeans and a tank with his Hawaiian shirt draped over one shoulder. And he had a hesitant grin on his face.

"Why are you wearing that?" you asked as you stirred cream into your coffee. "I thought you went golfing. Jake even texted me and told me you were doing an abysmal job, and that you lost six balls on the fifteenth fairway."

"Last time I ask Jake for a favor," Bradley muttered under his breath. He pulled the Hawaiian shirt away from his body, and you saw that his right bicep had plastic wrap around it, taped in place against his skin.

Your lips parted but no sound came out. You instinctively knew he had a tattoo on his arm that wasn't there this morning when you were in bed together, but you couldn't turn those thoughts into words. He took a step closer to you, and you met his eyes.

"What did you do?" you asked softly as your heart pounded. 

Bradley held his arm out and flexed his bicep against the plastic wrap for you. You were looking at a brand new tattoo alright. On the inside of his bicep. A paper airplane nearly the size of your hand, with Baby Girl written across it in a pretty script.

Where your tattoo was a dainty, private ode to the love of your life, his was bigger, bolder, and out in the open for everyone to see. 

"I hope you like it, Baby Girl, because it's not going anywhere."

"You didn't have to do that," you whispered, but you knew you were smiling now as you ran your fingers across the plastic.

Bradley pulled you against him so suddenly you squeaked. 

"Never thought I'd fall in love. Never thought I'd settle down. Never thought I'd be with someone who makes everything better. I never thought I'd love someone or something enough to get it tattooed on myself, but here we are, Sweetheart."

You kissed him softly and whispered, "You must really love me. That's a big tattoo."

"I'm going to love you forever. And I want everyone to see it," he said, guiding you back against the island. When you opened your mouth to say something, he put his finger over your lips and shook his head. "Not your tattoo though. That one's just for me, right?" 

His voice was so deep and raspy, and his finger was still on your lips. You had to squeeze your thighs together, you were so turned on. Of course he noticed right away and wedged his thigh in between your legs as he started to devour your lips. 

You rocked your body against his leg and whimpered as Bradley started to undo his belt, but you pulled it through the loops and dropped it to the floor. Then you added his tank to the pile just before he dropped to the floor on his knees in front of you. 

"This one is just for me to see," he told you as he eased your sweatpants down. You weren't even wearing any underwear which made him grin up at you before he kissed you all over your tattoo. Just as you were getting used to his mustache against your hip, he moved his mouth to start licking your pussy, and you let your fingers drag through his hair before gabbing on. 

"You're really wet, Baby Girl," he remarked, licking it all up. 

"You got a tattoo for me! Of course I'm wet!"

He muttered, "Now you know how I felt yesterday," before getting you off with his mouth. 

While you were still enjoying the waves of your orgasm, Bradley was helping you step out of your sweatpants, and next thing you knew, he had you sitting on the very edge of the island. And he was fucking you with his jeans and underwear down around his knees with his shoes still on.

"That's so fucking hot," you mumbled when you looked at his arm. He slammed into you hard, and it felt like you were going to topple off the edge of the counter. "Bradley!" you screamed, wrapping your legs around him and digging your manicured nails into his back. 

He moaned so loudly next to your ear as he fucked you harder. "I got you, Baby Girl."

You were still so sensitive from your orgasm that everything he was doing felt overwhelming. You dragged your fingernails down lower on his back, and he groaned your name with his face tipped toward the ceiling. But he was fucking you so hard and pulling you toward the edge of the counter at the same time. 

"Bradley!" you screamed again, this time with a laugh. 

"I told you I got you, Baby Girl." He did have a vice-like grip on your body with his left arm, but you still dug your nails in again as he railed you until you were screaming. 

Bradley pulled himself out of your grasp, and you felt your nails dig along his back again as he was suddenly tipping you back against the island and pulled your shirt up. 

"Just for me," he groaned as he stroked himself three times and came all over your tattoo. You watched his cum coat the skin along your belly, hip and pussy, covering nearly all of the ink. 

As his cum dripped onto your thigh and the countertop, Bradley leaned down and reached for your face. "I love you. So much," he promised, kissing along your lips and cheeks as he stroked your jaw. "I was ready to tattoo myself with your name as soon as we met. I don't want you to think there's any other reason I got this today than the fact that I love you so much I want everyone to see it. Okay?"

"Okay, Roo," you told him as he rubbed your cheek with his nose. "You've never given me any reason to doubt you."

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

Bradley cleaned you up and carried you back to bed, because you told him you were still tired. But when he set you down in bed, you reached out and unwrapped his tattoo. 

"I just want to touch it for real," you whispered with a grin, tracing the black outline of the paper airplane and then tracing the letters with your index finger. "I really like it. It looks like it belongs on you."

Bradley kissed you and tucked you in before taking Tramp out for a walk. They walked for five miles along the beach, and he texted Nat and Jake a photo of his tattoo. 

Natasha Phoenix Trace: That looks permanent. Hope she never decides to leave your ass. 

Jake Hangman Seresin: You owe me a drink, because I covered for you in the most believable way. 

Bradley just sighed and tucked his phone away. Only forty eight more days until he was going to marry you. He wondered if you called Mav today or not. You were still so tired from being away, he figured you hadn't. After a moment of hesitation, Bradley decided to call Maverick on behalf of both of you.

"Bradley. What's up, kid?" he asked after one ring.

"Mav. I have a favor to ask of you. Actually, we have a favor to ask."

"What do you need?"

"What are you doing the day after Thanksgiving?" Bradley asked with a smile as Tramp pulled him up to the water's edge.

"Your bride-to-be invited us over for Thanksgiving dinner. Not doing anything the day after that I know of."

"Can you keep a secret?" Bradley asked, and his smile grew. 

Mav paused for a beat. "This sounds a little suspicious."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, Bradley. I can keep a secret." He was starting to sound exasperated, and Bradley was trying not to laugh. 

"It's apparently very easy to get ordained online. Feel like officiating my wedding?"

A longer pause. "Are you serious? Of course I will."

"Thanks, Mav. I appreciate this. I'll get you more details. But it's top secret for now."

When Bradley was finally heading back to the house, he was kind of sweaty, and his shirt was clinging uncomfortably to his back. He was hoping you were awake so he could tell you that he got something checked off of the wedding to-do list. And he was hungry and craving something homemade for dinner. He'd been eating cereal and oatmeal all week. 

But you were still sound asleep, so he crept quietly into the master bathroom and peeled his shirt off. He checked in the mirror to see why his back was stinging from the sweat.

"Oh, shit." You had really dug your nails into his back earlier, and there were a few long marks that you had made going up and down his back. Your pretty manicure was actually lethal. He decided to just skip a shirt while he went in search of some food. 

Pancakes. He could make you both some pancakes. But before he started on that task, he realized it was after 6:30 and you were still sleeping, so he went to check on you again. As he let his fingers trail across your face, he realized you felt warm. A palm to the forehead told him you had a fever. Your neck felt a little clammy when he touched you, and now he was pretty worried. 

"Sweetheart," he whispered, repeating himself until you started to stir.

"What?" you groaned, rolling fully onto your back and looking up at him. 

"Can you sit up? I want to take your temperature."

You just nodded and sat up with your eyes closed, and you let him take your temperature when he returned with the thermometer. 

You looked exhausted, and you let Bradley rub your back while you waited. His tee shirt that you were wearing was all sweaty, and now you were practically falling asleep again. 

"Almost 102. That's a pretty high fever," he told you, and you just nodded in agreement. Now Bradley felt kind of bad for working you over so hard in the kitchen earlier. You must have picked up some sort of bug while you were away. "You need to take the day off tomorrow. Let me get you some water and Tylenol."

You just kept going along with everything he said, which was so unlike you. When he offered to make you pancakes, you told him you weren't hungry. When he offered to make you tea, you agreed to have a mug along with a few crackers. 

"You need to text Bickel," he told you as he climbed in bed next to you. "Tell him you won't be in tomorrow."

"Can you do it for me?" you asked, your voice so small as you nibbled on a cracker. "My head hurts."

He kissed your ear and reached across you to get your phone from the nightstand. After he texted your boss, he got up and plugged your phone in. 

"I'm going to tell your parents you're not feeling well, and that they can contact me if they need something, okay?"

"Okay," you muttered, coughing a few times. Bradley was a little concerned that you might have the flu, but all you would tell him is that you were tired. 

When you had finished your tea and crackers, Bradley watched you stand and steady yourself before you went into the bathroom. He got you a new shirt to change into, but you even needed his help with that. He stripped you down completely and stroked your tattoo once, and then he pulled the clean shirt over your head. 

"Thanks," you mumbled. "Can you take Tramp out?"

"Baby Girl. I'm going to take care of everything. Get back in bed and relax."

He kissed your cheek as you burrowed into the blankets. Then he refilled your water, took Tramp out, made himself some pancakes, and cleaned the kitchen. When he came back to the bedroom, you were curled up reading on your phone. 

"Bickel told me not to worry about anything," you told Bradley.

"See? I'll take care of everything here, and he can take care of all your stuff at work." Bradley took off his jeans and made sure his tattoo was covered before he got in bed. 

When he snuggled up next to your side, you tried to squirm away. "I'm all sweaty and disgusting, Roo. Don't touch me. You're supposed to think I'm adorable if I'm going to be your wife."

"You are adorable," he informed you with a laugh. "But I think that's literally the opposite of how marriage is supposed to work, Baby Girl."

"I don't want to get you sick," you complained halfheartedly, now snuggling up against him. 

"We already had sex a few times since you got back. I had my tongue down your throat. I think it's a little too late to be worried about me. Let's get some sleep."

"Love you, Roo," you mumbled, already half asleep on his shoulder. 

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

You woke up briefly as the sun was peeking in through your bedroom curtains. You were freezing cold. You tried to sit up, but your head was pounding. 

"Sweetheart, stay in bed. I'll bring you water and tylenol and some dry cereal."

"Okay, Roo," you managed to whisper, because now your throat was sore too. 

Bradley delivered everything to your nightstand and then took your temperature. "Try to sleep. If you're not feeling better by this afternoon, we'll call your doctor."

You just nodded at him, and he kissed your forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can get Mav to dismiss me."

You reached for Bradley's hand. "I forgot to call Mav yesterday!"

"Shh, just relax, Baby Girl. I called him," Bradley said with a grin. "We have our super secret wedding officiant."

You managed to smile up at him as you sank back into the pillows. "Thanks, Roo."

"Sleep. I love you."

So you dozed off and on for most of the day, only getting up to use the bathroom and get more to drink. You texted Bradley and told him you were fine, and that he shouldn't rush home. And then you picked Tramp up and took him back to bed with you.

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

It was not a good day. First of all, you really did a number on Bradley's back with your nails in the kitchen, and his skin was irritated. Second, there was no way Mav was going to dismiss him early today, because Bradley had a flight simulation scheduled for the afternoon, unbeknownst to him. And third, now Mav was looking at him like he was ready to apologize for something.

"What's wrong? Just tell me," Bradley grumbled before he headed for his simulation. 

"Sorry, kid. I got deployment papers for you." 

"Fuck!" Bradley took the envelope and tore into it. "When?"

"I'm not sure of the exact dates. But it's next month," Maverick told him gently. "If I could change the dates or send someone else, you know I would, Bradley."

Bradley would never, ever forgive himself if he couldn't marry you next month. He'd quit the navy. Get a civilian job. Anything. Anything except miss out on marrying you in forty seven days. His hands were shaking as he read over the information. 

He needed to be in South Korea on November 5th. The special mission should last one to two weeks, depending on the weather requirements. 

He looked up at Maverick. "Don't make any plans for that day I told you about. I'll be back in time, even if I have to fucking swim home."

Maverick nodded. "I actually believe you, that's the crazy part. I won't make any plans. And I'm already filling out the form to get ordained."

"Thanks," Bradley said, shaking his hand before he went for his simulation. 

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

Not only would he not be getting home early, but Bradley had to text you and let you know he would be home late. He promised to bring you some soup, and he told you to rest until he got there. 

"What's got you all pissed off?" Nat asked as they headed toward the locker rooms. Bradley reeked of jet fuel from earlier this morning, and he wanted to be able to climb in bed with you as soon as he got home. 

"Got papers," he growled. "Next month."

"So did Bagman," Nat replied. 

"Damn. I was hoping it would be me and you again," Bradley said, giving Nat a high five before she ducked into the ladies' room. 

"Looks like it's me and you, Bagman. Deployment together," Bradley said when he started getting undressed at his locker. 

Jake looked over at him as he stripped off his flight suit. "Who's going to look after Angel?"

Bradley had been so concerned about potentially missing his secret wedding, he hadn't even thought what it would mean to be deployed the same time as Jake.

"Shit," Bradley said, knowing full well that Jake would always have your back when he couldn't. "She'll have Nat and the guys. I'll talk to Bob and Fanboy tomorrow."

"Hey, Coyote! Payback!" Jake called, and both men poked their heads around from the next row of lockers.

"What's up?" Payback asked as he dried off from his shower. 

Bradley kept undressing, as he spoke, anxious to get home to you. "Can you two keep an eye on the love of my life while Jake and I are gone next month?"

"Aww, Tramp needs a sitter?" Payback asked, earning a glare from Bradley. "Yeah, man, of course we'll look out for your girl."

"No problem," Coyote added.

But Jake was suddenly cracking up. "What happened to your back, Rooster? Looks like your Hen scratched you up good!"

Bradley paused; he had forgotten about his back. And now Payback and Coyote were coming closer to look as well.

"Shit! What were you trying to do to her?" Payback asked while he wiggled his eyebrows. 

Coyote was just looking at him with wide eyes. 

Bradley wrapped his towel around his waist and headed for the showers while the guys catcalled. 

"At least I have a girl to maul my back apart, okay?" he said, giving them the finger. 

"Damn, I hate it when he's right," Jake replied. 

"Nice tattoo, by the way," Payback called after Bradley. "Ohhhh. He got a tattoo for her. That's what happened to his back."

Bradley listened to them all erupt into more laughter, and he couldn't help but smile himself. 

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

You were sitting up in bed reading when Bradley got home. He came running into the bedroom with his hands full of stuff.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling your forehead and kissing your hair before you could even answer. 

"I'm fine," you said, coughing a little bit. "I took my temperature, and it came down some." 

"Are you hungry?" he asked, running his thumb along your cheek and making you smile. 

"A little bit. You brought soup?" you asked, climbing out of bed. But Bradley scooped you up into his arms before your feet touched the floor. 

"I got four kinds of soup from that deli you like. Plus a salad in case that sounded better." He carried you gently into the dining room and got you settled in a chair. He opened all of the soup containers and brought out some spoons. You selected the chicken noodle soup, and almost instantly it started making you feel better. 

"Thanks, Roo."

Bradley ran around and got you water, orange juice and hot tea. He took Tramp out for a quick walk while you took a hot shower, and he was back in time to help you get dressed in clean sweats. 

"I'm hoping I can just sleep all day again tomorrow while you're at work," you told him as he helped you get the knots out of your hair. 

"I'm not going to work tomorrow," he informed you, kissing the back of your neck and making you shiver. "I'm staying home to make sure you get better." 

"Thanks," you whispered, but he was turning you around in his arms to face him, and he didn't look happy. "What?"

He sighed. "I got papers today. Special mission."

You gasped and reached for him. "When?" you asked, flinging your arms around his neck. You felt like you were going to cry. It was mid-October. His papers must be for November if it was a special mission.

"November 5th," he whispered, and you burst into tears. 

"I'm so sorry, Bradley. If I got my shit together sooner, we could be getting married this month. Now we'll have to wait longer," you sobbed against his neck.

"Shh, it's okay, Sweetheart." He was rubbing soft circles against your back. "It's just for two weeks, tops. I really should be back in time."

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. "You think so?"

"Baby Girl, I will hijack my own aircraft and fly it home to you if I need to."

You laughed through your tears, and he held you against him. "Okay. Let's keep planning then and hope for the best."

"The only thing I want you to do at the moment is rest and feel better. I'll take care of everything else."

Bradley snuggled with you in bed, running his fingers underneath your sweatshirt and soothing your skin. "You don't feel clammy anymore," he remarked. You just shook your head and told him to keep touching your skin. You could see his tattoo peeking out of his sleeve, and it made you smile so much.

He told you about his day, and you could feel yourself melting against him as he continued to work his fingers along your back.

Pretty soon you were falling asleep in his arms while Tramp had a puppy dream in his doggy bed. 

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

Bradley woke up early and had to peel you away from his body so he could get out of bed. It felt like your fever had broken overnight, but it was obvious you were exhausted and needed as much sleep as possible.  

He made coffee and started to finalize the honeymoon options. He had it narrowed down to two different resorts already, but now he had to determine which one was perfect for you. The one with the butler or the one with the private deck. 

Bradley decided to be selfish for a moment. You didn't really need a butler, since he was willing to wait on you hand and foot. But a private deck with a pool and a hot tub? You could sunbathe naked. You could swim naked. You could have sex with him on the deck under the stars with the Pacific Ocean as your soundtrack. 

As soon as he pulled his credit card out of his wallet, he was booking it. He couldn't wait. 

Next he started narrowing down caterers and florists based on what you and he had planned. There was no need for a huge menu or a ton of flowers. He found one caterer online that promised they could make any cake flavor, so he emailed them and asked if their confetti cake with strawberries was any good. Then he found a florist that had yellow and red roses as one of their gallery photos. 

He really had no idea if he was doing any of this research the way you would have, but he was too excited to stop now. 

"Roo?" 

He turned to face you and smiled. You looked so much better. "You're up."

"Yeah, it's almost noon," you said, rubbing your eyes. "I feel a lot better now." You kissed him, and he was shocked he had been working on this for four hours. 

Bradley let you sit on his lap with some reheated soup, and he showed you everything he found. Except for the honeymoon. Not yet.

"Oh! Those flowers are beautiful!" you gushed. "And I don't care what we feed everyone for dinner, as long as I have my confetti cake."

Bradley rolled his eyes; you were sassing him, so you were definitely feeling a lot better. 

"I found a caterer who will make a confetti cake. They also have miniature bottles of pink champagne on their bar menu."

You gasped. "We need to book them! Is it too late?" 

Bradley just sighed and kissed your shoulder. "I'll call them now and find out."

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

You were still feeling kind of tired, and your throat hurt a bit, but today had been so good, you didn't mind too much. 

Bradley sweet talked the caterer of your dreams into doing your wedding as long as you bumped dinner up to 5 o'clock. He also managed to get you a chance to sample their confetti cake next Wednesday night. Then he got the florist to agree to your modest bouquets and rose petals. He even reassured you he had booked the honeymoon. 

"You're the groom of my dreams," you whispered as you ran your fingers along his tattoo. "Also, you need to keep this wrapped for a few more days."

"I'll wrap it again after I take a shower," he replied, tipping you back along the couch and climbing on top of you. You had the perfect view of his handsome face, bare naked torso and his tattoo. 

"I'm always going to take care of you," he promised, kissing your cheek. "Now rest for the afternoon." He pushed himself off of the couch, covered you with a blanket, and started to leave the living room. 

"Yes, Daddy," you muttered, making him pause and turn to face you again. 

He smirked. "Daddy wants you feeling better by the weekend, Baby Girl. We've got new tattoos to show off on video."

You just groaned and rolled over onto your side, praying you were better by the weekend.  

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

Daddy Roo and his new tattoo. That's the real name of this chapter.

PART 12

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