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hookingminor · 7 months

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4 times you took care of him + 1 time he took care of you - nico hischier

a/n: rewrite of an old fic of mine

cw: brief mentions of blood, stitches, alcohol

word count: 7.4k

summary: nico is the cute neighbor boy across the hall

Sunday nights were your nights. After a long week of studying and working crazy hours, you only had one day to yourself where you weren’t running around like a chicken with its head cut off and could take five minutes to finally breathe.

Sundays were also the only days you actually took the time to make yourself dinner. Most of your days were either spent in class or at the hospital, so you never prepared anything that couldn’t be done in less than ten minutes. Sometimes you were so lazy that you just counted on cafeteria food and granola bars to hold you over before having cereal for dinner and crashing by eleven o’clock.

Tonight’s specialty was your own take on a carbonara with some grilled chicken on the top. It wasn’t anything fancy, but you had been working on a recipe to perfect this for nearly three months now, and you were almost satisfied with the results.

It was in the middle of adding the finishing touches by combining the pasta and the sauce when you heard a knock on your door. Setting the towel on the counter and reducing the stove heat to a low simmer, you made your way to answer the door.

“Oh, hi, Nico,” you said with surprise when you saw your neighbor on the other side. He lived across the hall from you, but you rarely saw him in the building. Still, it wasn’t hard to notice that he was incredibly attractive.

“Hi,” he greeted you. The smells of your dinner wafted over him, and he peeked over your head to catch a glimpse of what you were preparing.

“I just stopped by to drop this off,” he said, handing you an envelope. “They keep mixing up our mailboxes.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you glanced down at the letter. “I have a few for you as well, hold on just a second.”

You turned away from the door and walked back towards the kitchen to where you kept a stash of his mail. You’d been meaning to drop it off, but your hours at home never coincided with each other.

Granted, you could have slipped it under his door, but you really just wanted an excuse to talk to the cute neighbor boy. You were just waiting until you worked up the nerve to knock on his door.

Nico took a few steps into your apartment, not wanting to overstep but also not wanting to stand in the hall awkwardly as you rummaged through some papers. As he waited, his eyes wandered back over to the stove where you were cooking some type of pasta.

His stomach growled lowly as the smell of seasoned chicken and sauces flooded his senses, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything in nearly five hours.

“Sorry,” he said with a blush. There was no way you hadn’t heard that grumble. “Guess I forgot to eat something after practice.”

“Did you want some?” You asked almost too eagerly. “I mean, I made quite a bit,” you backtracked quickly, “I usually survive the week on leftovers.”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckled, but Nico wanted nothing more than to shove a forkful of whatever you had made into his mouth. “I’ll probably just order something for delivery.”

“Please, I insist,” you persisted, “I made a lot, and your food won’t be here for, like, another hour at least.” God, you were coming off as desperate, and you mentally slapped yourself for it.

He looked at you hesitantly, obviously not wanting to intrude, but damn if he wasn’t really hungry.

You didn’t wait for his reply before dropping the mail back where it was and crossing the kitchen to the stove. Pulling out an extra plate, you began piling it with pasta and chicken, and Nico figured it was too late to refuse you again.

“Take a seat,” you suggested as you plated a dish for yourself. “You’re not an intrusion, I promise. I don’t get a lot of company anyways.”

“Busy life?” Nico asked. It was then that he realized he really didn’t know much about you despite having run into you multiple times in the hallways.

“You could say that,” you chuckled humorlessly. It was a combination of being both busy and having no friends, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“What do you do?” He questioned as he rested his elbows on the table.

“I’m a nursing student, so I spend all my time studying or working at the hospital,” you explained as you brought the plates over to the table. He mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ when you set his food down in front of him. It looked delicious. Nico’s skills in the kitchen were subpar to say the least; he couldn’t make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or wasn’t baked chicken and vegetables. So having an actual home cooked meal was starting to feel like Christmas.

“Is that why I only ever see you coming home at midnight?” He wondered, picking up a fork to take a bite.

Nico was right, it was delicious.

“Yeah, hours are a little crazy for me right now, but they should settle down once I graduate,” you replied as you took a bite. It was your best carbonara yet, but it wasn’t quite perfect. “What about you? Why are you always coming home at midnight?”

You’d never talked to him much after that first day when he helped you with a couple boxes as you moved in. Most of your interactions were restricted to passing each other in the halls and the polite conversation about how your day was going and the weather.

“I, uh, play hockey,” he started, “and we get back from road trips really late sometimes.”

“No shit, really?” Your eyes widened in shock, “like you play for the Devils?” You weren’t well versed in sports in general, and even less so in New Jersey sports. However, you did hear chatter around from your classmates and coworkers about various games.

Nico nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I’m the captain.” Every revelation about him continued to shock you.

“So I’m dining with New Jersey royalty then, huh?” You teased after a moment. Even though you didn’t know much, you did know the Devils were doing exceptionally well at the moment.

He blushed at your compliment, “I’m not royalty.”

“Your team’s current record says otherwise given the team’s horrendous past ,” you commented, dropping the little bit of knowledge you knew as you overheard your lab partner go on about the Devils’ hot streak.

Nico raised his eyebrows in surprise at your statement.

“I’m not an actual fan, so don’t test me,” you chuckled at his surprise, “My lab partner is always talking about the Devils, and I may have unknowingly processed some of the information.”

“It’s not because of me. The team’s just doing well in general,” he brushed it off casually, but you knew that wasn’t totally the case. The team may be good, but good leadership can be what makes or breaks them.

“So you’re not a big cook then, I presume?” You asked instead, changing the subject to something else. Nico probably talked about hockey enough with other people, you didn’t want to bore him even more.

“You could say that,” he said, repeating your phrase from earlier. “If it’s not something a seven year old could make, it’s not something I could make.” He had barely registered that he’d finished off everything on his plate by now while you were still finishing yours.

“Did you want more?” You asked, noticing his empty plate, but Nico shook his head.

“No, thank you, this was more than enough,” Nico insisted. “I’ve bothered you enough tonight.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” you said, clearing off your plate. “It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t asking me about upcoming exams or patient reports or asking for more painkillers.”

“It’s nice not talking about hockey, too,” he agreed.

Rising from your seat, you took his plate and yours to the sink as you were both now finished.

“I got this,” Nico said quickly, following you to the sink and lightly hip checking you out the way. “I do know basic manners. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but the look on his face said the conversation was already over, and he grabbed the sponge with one hand. Deciding to leave it alone, you held your hands up in surrender and backed away from the sink. While he was busy, you packed up the leftovers into a plastic container.

“I make dinner every Sunday,” you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “So, if you want, you’re always free to join me.” You didn’t look at him when you said this, trying to keep it casual and so he wouldn’t see the way your face was riddled with embarrassment. You were trying to subtly ask him to come over more, and you didn’t want to be faced with his rejection.

You heard the sink shutoff and saw his body turn towards yours out of the corner of your eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“I’d really like that,” he said, “but I do have one condition though.” You looked up and met his gaze with raised brows.

“You have to teach me how to cook,” he continued with an easy grin as he dried off his hands with a towel.

“You’ve got a deal,” you agreed, matching his smile with one of your own.

You sent Nico home that night with the leftover carbonara and his mail despite his protests, but you argued that he couldn’t live off takeout forever and that you could always make more food whereas he could not.

The next Sunday he had showed up around dinner time once again, this time bringing over a plate of cookies that he most definitely bought at the store but tried to play off as baking them himself. He had said if you were going to be doing a majority of the work, the least he could do was bring you something in return.

Every Sunday after that Nico was at your place. On the off chance he was out of town, he always left you a note on your door saying he wouldn’t be making it and notifying you of when he’d see you next. You didn’t need the notes, he didn’t have to tell you whether or not he was coming, but they made your heart flutter every time you came home and saw a blue sticky note waiting for you.

You taught him a few staple dishes, mainly how to cook pasta and rice and some salads. His capabilities weren’t all that vast, and he wanted to remain in the realm of foods that weren’t too complicated so he couldn’t fuck up.

Making dinner with Nico turned into messing around in the kitchen for a couple hours most of the time. You teased him about his chopping abilities and he teased you every time your small hands dropped something due to your lack of coordination, to which you complained how not everyone could be a professional athlete.

And every time you two ate at your same spots at the table, sometimes splitting a bottle of wine that Nico would bring over.

Every once in a while Nico would arrive with a bag of takeout in his hand, declaring that you needed a break from all the cooking. There was no reason to have dinner together since it wasn’t under the guise of teaching him something new, but you still welcomed him nonetheless.

Sundays were no longer your nights, but that was perfectly fine by you as long as you could keep sharing them with Nico.

Nico was getting a little desperate.

Two months had passed since he started coming over for weekly dinners, and he was making no progress. It’s not like he was really trying, though. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure how to flirt with a woman without the intention of sleeping with her.

Which isn’t to say he didn’t want to sleep with you because he definitely did, it just wasn’t all that he wanted.

He hoped he conveyed interest on his part, but he wasn’t positive you were picking up on his hints. Or maybe you just weren’t into him.

So, he decided to take it one step further. He bought some plants.

Nico knew next to nothing about plants other than that they needed water, but he’d noticed you kept a few in your apartment near your large window.

Once again, he found himself knocking on your door, but this time you weren’t expecting it.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked him when you opened the door. It wasn’t like him to show up to your place out of the blue.

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got a week long roadie and was wondering if, maybe, you’d look after my plants?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, I can do that,” you said with a smile.

“Do you have a minute right now? I can show them to you really quick,” he asked, gesturing with his arm to his door. You nodded your head in agreement, and Nico took a few steps backward to let you into his apartment.

You followed him through the entrance and paused briefly. His apartment layout was the exact same as yours only flipped. He walked until he hit the same balcony window where you kept your plants, and you saw he had about four small pots along with a large pot that sat in the corner.

“This is the gang,” he introduced, spreading his arms to show them off.

“This is so cute,” you chuckled, stepping closer to get a better look at the plants. You noticed one of them was also one you had.

“I’m going to be honest,” he started. “I only recently bought them, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Well, they seem to be still living, so you haven’t done anything too bad,” you teased lightly.

“Oh, let me get the spare key for you,” he said suddenly before he turned and left you alone to fetch the key.

Nico returned less than a minute later, small black key fob in his hand. You opened your hand for him to place it in your palm.

“When will you be back?” You asked, stretching back up from your squatted position.

“Next Wednesday,” he clarified, “and I leave tomorrow.” You nodded.

There wasn’t much more to say, so you told him a brief ‘good luck’ on his roadie before leaving. Returning to your own, you made a mental note to check in on his plants tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you let yourself into Nico’s apartment with the key he’d given you. You read the sticky note he left for you on the counter, the words reading ‘in case of an emergency’ along with his phone number.

You rolled your eyes at the note, laughing lightly at his phrasing of ‘in case of an emergency.’ You hardly thought watering plants would cause a catastrophic event, but the gesture was cute.

Filling up a few cups of water, you made your way over to his plants and distributed the water throughout until you’d gone over all of them. Before you could think better of it, you snapped a picture of the plants in the window before opening a text thread to Nico.

You: First day all done! :)

He didn’t reply for a few hours, but that was okay because you hadn’t expected him to reply at all.

Nico: They’re looking better already!

Ever since that first day, you began exchanging messages. His replies were sporadic, but you didn’t mind; he was a busy guy. Still, he managed to text you whenever he could, and your conversations quickly turned away from his plants to other subjects.

You recommended some new shows for him to watch while he was on road trips, and he told you where his favorite takeout restaurants were when you felt too lazy to cook.

Honestly, Sundays didn’t feel the same without him, but you didn’t tell him you stopped cooking when he didn’t show up.

Even when Nico was back in town, you found yourself texting him frequently in your classes and also on your breaks, and Nico found himself waking up every morning looking forward to whatever message you’d sent after he’d fallen asleep.

The incessant pounding at your door woke you up from your sleep. You knew who it was immediately as there was only one person who visited you, and you were ready to yell at him after you answered the door.

Throwing on a sweatshirt, you stomped your way to the door and shouted out, “I’m coming!” so Nico could take the hint to shut the hell up.

“Oh my god, Nico,” you groaned as you threw open the door, “It’s two in the fucking morning.” But it wasn’t Nico you were greeted with.

Or rather, he wasn’t the only one outside the door.

“Uh, hi,” a man said as Nico leaned against him, very obviously drunk.

“Hi?” You asked, your eyes flicking over to the drunken Nico.

“I think he lost his key,” the stranger said, “and then he was knocking on your door before I could take him back to my place.”

“Of course,” you sighed. “You love bothering me, don’t you, Nico?”

“Y/N,” he slurred your name when he heard your voice. “I told you she was beautiful, Hughes.” He clearly meant to whisper the last part into his friend’s ear, but his impaired state changed his whisper into a quiet shout.

“Alright, buddy, let’s keep it down,” his friend said with a chuckle as he tried to spare him from saying something else embarrassing.

“Do you still have my key? I forgot mine,” Nico asked instead, lifting his eyes to yours.

“I left it in your apartment last time I watered the plants,” you answered and Nico let out an annoyed groan.

“It’s fine, he can stay here tonight,” you said, addressing his friend this time.

“You sure? I don’t want to bother you,” his friend insisted. “I can just bring him back to my place.”

“Don’t worry about it, you already dragged him all the way here. I can handle it,” you said and opened the door further.

His friend lugged him into your apartment and led Nico to the couch, plopping him down on the cushions.

“Thanks for doing this. I’m sorry for waking you,” he apologized once Nico was settled.

“No problem, I’m used to him interrupting my nights,” you chuckled lightly, though it sounded more sexual than you intended for it to.

“Yeah, well,” the stranger said with an awkward laugh, “I’ll get out of your hair then.” And then he turned to leave. “Hischier! Text me in the morning!” He called out one last time and Nico grumbled his acknowledgement. Then his friend was gone, leaving you alone with a drunken twenty-something year old.

“Alright, Nico, let’s get you ready for bed,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. He was splayed out on his back on your couch, head lolled against a decorative pillow. If it weren’t for his indecipherable sounds, you would’ve thought he was asleep.

You left him alone for a minute as you retreated back to your room to grab a couple extra blankets and a pillow that wouldn’t end up hurting his neck.

When you returned, Nico was now on his stomach with one arm dangled off the couch.

“Feeling okay, bud?” You asked gently, brushing back a few strands of his hair to check if he was still awake. He hummed a quiet ‘yeah’ and you lifted his head to replace the throw pillow with a fluffier one from your bed.

You draped one large blanket over his body and then set another smaller one on top of that. Nico sighed in content and you made a quick trip to the kitchen to retrieve a couple Advil pills and a glass of water.

“Can you drink this before you fall asleep?” You asked when you got back to the living room.

Despite his intoxication, Nico managed to sit up just enough to swallow the pills down with a drink of water before flopping his head back down. You set the half-full glass on the coffee table and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

“You good to sleep?” You questioned, and Nico nodded his head to the best of his ability.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” you said finally, making your way back to the hallway.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly before you were out of hearing range, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nico,” you murmured with a small smile.

“How the hell did this even happen? Sticks are supposed to remain on the ice, you know,” you wondered with curiosity.

Nico knocked on your door at nearly midnight, hair still damp from his shower and still in his Devils sweats. If it weren’t for the fact that you were awake and watching a movie, you wouldn’t have noticed the knocking.

When you opened the door, you were met with split stitches and tired eyes. Ushering him into your apartment, you led him to the bathroom where you kept the first-aid.

Nico pushed himself up so he could sit on your counter and gave you a sheepish smile.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “They stitched me up after the game, but they came out.”

“So, why didn’t you contact your trainers or something?” You inquired, opening your kit and grabbing the alcohol.

“Because I have a perfectly good nurse here at home to stitch me back up,” he answered with an easy grin. You gave him an incredulous look.

“It seems like I’m constantly getting the short end of the stick in this relationship,” you said as you stepped between his legs to inspect his face. It wasn’t anything serious, just a few stitches that broke. In all honesty, he probably could’ve survived the night without fixing it, but you weren’t going to turn down an opportunity to be this close to him.

“Close your eyes,” you ordered before he could say anything back. Nico followed your instruction obediently, fluttering his eyes shut as if he had all the time in the world.

Using a small pair of scissors, you snipped at the remaining stitches. You took the tweezers next and gently pulled at the broken strands, slowly removing them from his cheek. Nico’s eyes twitched slightly at the discomfort, but he said nothing as you reopened his wound.

“You’re really good at this,” he stated, and you noticed that he had opened one eye to watch you. You blushed at his compliment, your cheeks heating at the warm feeling you got when you looked into his eyes.

Averting his gaze, you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ before opening an alcohol pad.

“You’re going to want to really close your eyes for this, it might burn,” you recommended. The cut was along his cheekbone, stretching about three inches and oozing just a little bit of blood.

You cleaned along the cut lightly, one of your hands cupping his cheek while the other managed the wipe. After throwing the bloodied pad off to the side, you brought out the small bottle of lidocaine you had stashed away underneath all your bandaids. You squeezed a bit onto a cotton swab and dabbed the area around the cut. The lidocaine took a few minutes to kick in, so you busied yourself by preparing the thread and sanitizing the needle.

“I want you to know that I’m not actually a certified nurse yet. I’m still in training,” you explained. “So, if this hurts it’s your fault.”

“I trust you,” he said simply with a smirk.

“I would hope so,” you scoffed, “You’re letting a nursing student with a needle stitch near the eye of the New Jersey Devils Captain.”

“Besides, if you fuck up, I’ll just blame it on you when we lose after I can’t play because I’ve been blinded,” he teased.

“Don’t even joke about that, Nico. All of New Jersey would burn me alive,” you said, slugging his arm in response.

Was he about to let a beautiful, uncertified girl stitch him back together just because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with her? Absolutely.

He gave you a light chuckle as he leaned back on his hands, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching deliciously over his broad chest. It took everything in you to not linger your eyes over his arms and how large they looked right now.

“Is it numb yet?” You asked instead, refocusing your attention on threading the needle.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, bringing a couple fingers to poke at his cheek, but you swatted his hand away before he could do more damage.

Taking the same position as before, you stood between his legs again and angled his head slightly to the side so you could examine it under better light.

“Just let me know if it hurts, okay?” You insisted, holding the needle between your tweezers. You waited for Nico’s nod of agreement before starting.

You punctured the skin with the point and crossed the wound before poking through the other side. Nico’s hands instinctively reached out to grasp at your hips as he breathed in a sharp breath of air.

“Oh my god, is it not numb?” You panicked, pausing all your movements as you gauged his face for any signs of pain.

“It stung a little bit,” he replied, but the tightened grip on your waist said otherwise. “I was just a little shocked, is all.” He added that last part when he saw the worry spread across your face as your eyes widened in fear of hurting him. “Keep going, I’m fine.”

You gave him a hesitant look, not wanting to continue if it was going to cause him pain. This time when he squeezed your sides, it was to reassure you and encourage you to continue.

Nico kept his hands where they were, sliding his thumbs just underneath the hem of your shirt to trace soft circles into your skin. Recommencing your movements, you repeated the same crisscrossing threads over his cut, trying to work as quickly as possible.

When you’d finished, you knotted off the ends, clipped the remaining thread, and applied a salve over the sealed wound.

“There you go,” you said as you finished touching him up.

“And my kiss to make it feel better?” He asked with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at his presumptuousness but leaned in to press a light kiss near his stitches.

“Can I trust you to not pull them out again?” You retorted, stepping out of his grip to clean up your supplies.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off as in deep contemplation, “I might need you to spend the night and keep an eye on me.”

“Nice try, bud,” you chuckled, “but it’s not going to happen.” He pouted.

“And if you do tear them again, I’m not restitching it.”

You finished packing away your materials and walked Nico back to your front door.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said when you opened the door.

“Anytime,” you replied, “Goodnight, Nico.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek in appreciation before crossing the few feet to his door. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes widened in shock, but if he did see, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

+ 1

For the first time since you’ve met Nico, it was finally your turn to cancel on dinner. You really didn’t want to, as the dinners with him were the highlight of your week, but you knew if you broke concentration for even a minute to entertain him, your mind would be thinking about him even after he left. And you were not going to pass the NCLEX if Nico was invading all of your thoughts. You’d been studying for this exam for months, but now it was a week out and it was crunch time.

You: Gotta cancel on dinner Sunday, sorry :(

Nico: Going out of town? Got a hot date?

You: The only dates I’ll be having for the next week is between me and my millions of notes for my board exam

Nico: Stressed out?

You: You wouldn’t even believe, so if I’m MIA for a few days, don’t worry

Nico: Are we still on for next Sunday?

You: Yes. We will either be celebrating or commiserating, so get your wine ready

Nico: I’ll bring over the best since we’ll be celebrating :)

You didn’t know how to reply, so you reacted to his message with a thumbs up before leaving him on read.

For the next few days, you studied your ass off. Sunday came, but when six o’clock rolled around, you couldn’t help your thoughts from straying from your studies and over to what you would be doing with Nico if it weren’t for this stupid exam.

And as if he had read your mind, your phone dinged with a new text message.

Nico: Open your door

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you read the text, and you were just about to tell him off for disturbing you after you already told him you didn’t have the time.

However, that wasn’t the case because when you opened your door, Nico was nowhere to be found although a paper bag rested on the ground in front of you.

Cautiously, you picked up the bag and brought it inside, immediately smelling the tzatziki sauce from your favorite Greek restaurant.

You: What’s this?

You texted him, along with a picture of the bag.

Nico: Even if we aren’t making dinner, you should still eat, and I figured gyros were better than cereal

He was right. You had planned on pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when the hunger became too much and forced you to take a break. And gyros definitely were better than Frosted Flakes.

You: You’re a lifesaver, truly. Thank you!

Nico opened the message and didn’t reply, even though he really wanted to, but he knew you had studying to do and the last thing he wanted was to distract you.

After pulling an all-nighter, Sunday slowly turned into Monday, and you had finally decided to go to bed at nine on Monday morning. The few hours of sleep you got were welcomed, but rest did little to calm yourself down. The exam was on Friday, and you still had four years worth of material to remember.

So, you dragged yourself out of bed around three in the afternoon and plopped yourself on the ground in front of your couch where all your notes were still spread on the floor.

You’d gotten through about four chapters in your review book before you heard a knock at the door.

Pushing yourself up by your hands, you crossed the length of the apartment to the door. If it was Nico, he was about to be really turned off by how messy you looked.

And once again, it wasn’t him.

Just like yesterday, something awaited you in front of your door. This time, it was a four cup drink tray filled with different coffees.

Picking them up off the ground, you walked it back into your home and set it on your kitchen counter. There was a blue sticky note attached to the top in true Nico style, and you were smiling at the familiar handwriting before you even read what it said.

Thought you could use a pick-me-up :)

PS: I didn’t know what you liked, but you’re NOT allowed to drink these all at once

You chuckled at the last sentence. Of course he would send you four different orders because he didn’t know what you wanted. In all honesty, you could survive on just plain black coffee with nothing added if needed, but the fact that he sent you options had your heart swelling.

You scanned through each cup, reading the labels on each one as they ranged from a standard black coffee to a sweet caramel latte, all of them iced (you had mentioned once that you only drank iced coffee, even in the middle of the winter). It didn’t slip your mind that this was from that expensive shop a few blocks down, the one you could only allow yourself to go to once a month because you knew it would drain you quickly.

Deciding to tease Nico a little bit, you stuck a straw in every single lid. You connected all four straws in the middle and closed your lips over them and took a drink. The resulting taste wasn’t fantastic, but it was worth the funny selfie you took drinking them that you sent to Nico.

You: What was it that I wasn’t allowed to do? Your note wasn’t clear

Nico: I’m never sending you coffee again

On Tuesday, Nico sent you a bouquet of sunflowers. They were massive and bright and you couldn’t see over them as you placed them on the table.

Hope these sunflowers brighten up your day

On Wednesday, Nico got back from his short roadie. Maybe it was the constant studying, or maybe it was the little gifts Nico sent you, but your stress levels seemed to calm down as the week went on. There was still the pressure to do well, but every time Nico sent something to you, it was as if everything became a little bit more manageable.

You invited him over to hang out for a little bit, just to thank him for the things he’d done for you. You expected him to stay for a few minutes, maybe a half hour at the most, and then you’d send him home with some cookies you’d baked for him. Instead, he grabbed the plate of cookies and made himself comfortable on your couch.

“You just made these?” He asked with a mouthful of cookie as he picked up a stack of flashcards. You nodded as you took a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“What’s the therapeutic drug level for theo… theoph…” he began to say, but trailed off, “Never mind. I was trying to help, but I can’t pronounce any of these words.” He ended the sentence with a chuckle before flicking the flashcard over to you.

“The word is theophylline,” you laughed, “and the answer is 10-20 micrograms per deciliter.”

“I understand none of those words, so that probably means it’s right,” he said as he finished his second cookie.

“If you want to help me I know something you can do,” you said eagerly, “And you don’t even have to speak, just sit there and look pretty.”

“That I can do,” he agreed with a nod and sat up to place the cookies on the coffee table. “Where do you want me?”

“Right there is fine. I’m just going to do a standard routine checkup like you’d get at the doctor’s,” you explained, grabbing your small bag of medical tools.

You ran through your procedure, checking your notes periodically to make sure you asked all the questions. Nico had no problem being your puppet, even answering some questions with ridiculous answers.

“And are you sexually active?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked with an eyebrow wiggle. You gave him an unamused glare.

“It’s part of the questions, dumbass,” you rolled your eyes and Nico laughed. “Never mind, I already know the answer anyway.”

“That was one time!” He groaned as he flopped his head back against the cushion. You were obviously referring to the one time you had a run in with one of his hookups. “I haven’t had anyone here since then.”

“Thank god for that,” you muttered, “but she did seem like a nice girl.”

Nico gave you a disbelieving look. You’d ran into them as you were returning from an overnight shift at nearly seven in the morning as Nico was trying to get rid of her, but she was hoping to get another date out of him before she left.

It was an awkward interaction to say the least, and Nico immediately called over to you to get your attention. The girl was displeased because you were interrupting their conversation and also because Nico had used you as an excuse to get out of scheduling another date.

“Oh, Y/N, you still needed me to fix that thing for you, right?” He had asked when he saw you walking down the hall. It took you all of two seconds to process the situation and Nico’s panicked and pleading eyes before you were agreeing. You even threw in the fact that it was urgent and that he needed to help right now, to which the girl gave you an eye roll.

Needless to say, Nico thanked you profusely for saving his ass and never called the girl again. That was over three months ago, and you had yet to see another girl leave his apartment.

“Well, I think I’m done with all the questions,” you concluded finally. “I think it’s safe to say you are in impeccable shape, Mr. Hischier.”

“Is this your subtle way of kicking me out?” He asked.

“Technically, I never invited you to stay. You kind of just sat here and made yourself at home,” you replied.

“I’m sorry for wanting to catch up with my friend after not seeing her in a week,” he joked.

“And you’re going to have to wait another few days for that, bud,” you chuckled.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll go, but I’m taking the cookies.”

“They were yours to begin with, idiot.”

On Thursday, you received one final package. It was a wrapped box, obviously done by someone who’s never wrapped a gift in their life.

Opening it, there was Nico’s same scrawl on the familiar blue sticky note.

Something to look forward to after you ace this exam tomorrow!

Underneath the note was a ticket to a Devils game on Sunday against Vancouver, but it wasn’t the only thing in the box. You pulled out a red sweatshirt with the New Jersey Devils logo on the front. There was nothing on the back, but the number ‘13’ could be seen on both sleeves.

The thought of Nico sending you something with his number on it had your cheeks heating instantly. He’d been teasing you about coming to a game, and it seemed you finally had a reason to go now.

After you took your exam, it was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your school days were behind you now, and you could now start your career. The exam results still took six weeks, but you were feeling pretty confident in yourself.

Nico had texted you instructions to wait for him after the game on Sunday. He wanted you to try and meet him somewhere, but your navigation skills were terrible and you were sure to get lost in an arena you’d never been in.

So, you met him outside his car in the parking lot where the team parked.

“There he is,” you called out, clapping, when you saw him exit the arena, “First star of the night with two goals, Captain Nico Hischier!” You gave him your best announcer voice.

“Shut up,” he replied with a chuckle, but his face was beaming with a wide smile.

“Good game tonight,” you said with a smile of your own. “Trying to impress someone?”

By this time, Nico had reached the car, and he was dropping his bag on the ground before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a hug.

“I’m always trying to impress you,” he mumbled against your hair before he set you back down.

“Well, consider me impressed,” you gushed.

“I was thinking...” Nico said after a moment.

“Uh oh,” you interjected with a worried look.

“Don’t be a dork,” he chuckled. “I was thinking that instead of going back home and making dinner I can take you out tonight instead.”

“Celebratory dinner for your win?” You questioned.

“And for your exam,” he added, “And also maybe as a date?” Nico said the last part quietly and quickly averted your gaze.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nico?” You asked for clarification, but the smile on your face was spreading wider as the seconds passed.

“Yes, I am,” he said with a deep swallow.

You squinted your eyes, as if in deep contemplation.

“Well, I’ve only been waiting, like, months for you to ask me,” you teased. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” He asked, eyes bright as he reached out to pull you closer to his body. You hummed in agreement and connected your hands behind his neck.

“I was starting to think you’d never get the hint,” you said quietly.

“I was just waiting for the right time,” he insisted, hands resting on your hips, “And if I’m being honest, I really want to kiss you right now.”

You didn’t answer him in words. Instead, you pushed up on your tip-toes and leaned in to connect your lips to his. The kiss was soft, neither of you wanting to push too far too fast. He moved his lips against yours gently, taking his time to convey how he felt about you.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, you both had stupid looks on your face as you were both giddy with joy.

“Atta boy, Cap!” A loud voice shouted across the lot along with some hoots, and you let your head fall against Nico’s chest as you chuckled to yourself.

“Fuck off, Jack!” Nico yelled back before dipping his head down to kiss the top of yours. “Ignore him, he’s annoying. Let’s get out of here before they try and come over.”

“Lead the way,” you said, breaking apart so you could climb in his car.

Six weeks later, your results came in.

You let yourself into Nico’s unlocked apartment. Ever since you started dating, it just seemed a lot easier to leave your apartments unlocked during the day so you could easily bounce between places.

“Nico, it’s here!” You exclaimed, spotting him on the couch. He looked up from whatever show he was watching and paused it immediately when he saw the envelope in your hands.

You basically sprinted across the room and plopped down onto his lap before shoving it into his hands.

“You open it, I can’t do it,” you murmured against the side of his head, your arms slinging over his shoulders as one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

Nico chuckled as he ripped open the paper and pulled out the letter.

“What does it say?” You asked, your head tucked into his neck so you couldn’t read the results.

“Babe…” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked worriedly, peeling yourself from his neck to read the letter yourself.

Congratulations! You have passed the NCLEX exam!

You didn’t even bother to read the rest of the letter once you’d read those first two sentences.

“You asshole, that wasn’t funny!” You said, pushing his head away from you as he laughed.

“I thought it was kind of funny,” he replied, “And now my girlfriend is officially a sexy nurse.” Nico pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You better get that idea out of your head right now,” you said warningly, already knowing where his thoughts were headed.

“All jokes aside, I’m proud of you, baby,” he said happily.

“I probably would’ve combusted from stress had it not been for your little gifts,” you admitted.

“What can I say? I was so whipped for you,” he said.

“You really were, weren’t you? The flowers and the sweatshirt with your number on it…” you teased, and he poked your side in retaliation.

“Kidding,” you giggled happily, “and I’m whipped for you, too, Nico.”

#nhl imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #hockey imagine #fics #my writing #nhl fic #nhl x reader

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joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

Text

Watermelon Sugar

Dbf/neighbor/daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,522

Summary: At the annual neighborhood barbecue, you can't ignore the sparks flying between you and Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. What starts as playful flirting leads to a secret, steamy encounter that leaves you both wanting more.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, unprotected p in v, m! oral recieving, soft but dom daddy!Joel, Joel calls reader baby and sunflower, use of daddy, light choking, hair pulling, and spanking. And a lil aftercare. Reader has hair and wears a bikini.

Notes: I've been slow over here and a little inactive due to adulting ughhh, but thank you all for your love and support 🥰 I truly appreciate all of you! tysm @joelslegalwhre & @evolnoomym beta reading for me. Smooching you both forever. Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The annual neighborhood barbecue is a tradition you've always looked forward to, but this year, it feels different. Ever since you can remember, Joel Miller has been a fixture in your life—a man who could make you laugh with a single look and who always seemed to know when you needed a friend. But lately, the glances you exchange feel charged with something new, something you're not quite ready to name.

As you dab on a bit of perfume, you catch your dad's voice in the hallway, calling out that he's heading over to Joel's early to help set up.

“Be there soon!” You yell back.

—

As you step out of your front door, the warm summer breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat and freshly cooked burgers from the neighborhood barbecue, hosted by none other than Joel Miller - your dad's best friend and neighbor, the one youve had a crush on forever. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you walk towards his house, knowing that he will be there waiting for you.

Your heart races as you approach the familiar scene; tables filled with food and drinks, kids running around playing games, and adults chatting animatedly under the shade of trees. You spot Joel standing near the grill, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he expertly flips burgers on the sizzling hot coals. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from all his hard work preparing for today's event.

"Hey there!" Your dad calls out when he sees you approaching. "Just in time! We were just about to start eating."

You take a moment to admire Joel's form; how strong yet gentle he looks handling those flaming hot coals like they were nothing more than pebbles in a stream; how those little black shorts sit on his body just right, how that white baggy shirt hangs over his big broad shoulders hugging his thick neck just right. Damn it. Why does he have to look so good?

As you draw closer, the heat from the grill is almost as intense as the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of Joel. His head looks up for a moment as he sees you approach, a wide grin spreading across his face.

You take a plate from the stack and start to serve yourself, trying to keep your hands from shaking. The array of food is impressive: potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh fruit, and an assortment of desserts that would make any food lover weak in the knees. But your focus is on the grill, where Joel is now plating a burger that looks like a work of art.

"Here ya go, sunflower," he says. The nickname, worn in like a favorite pair of jeans from years of use, still makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. "I added a secret sauce.” He whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Tell me if it's as good as I think it is.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

As you take the burger from Joel, your fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You try to brush it off as static, but deep down, you know it's more than that. You take a bite of the burger, and the flavors explode on your tongue. The sauce is tangy and sweet, perfectly complementing the grilled meat's smoky flavor.

"Mmm," you moan, closing your eyes in appreciation. "This is incredible."

Joel's eyes light up with pride. "M’glad you like it." His eyes follow every movement of your lips, every chew, every swallow. It's as if he's savoring every moment of this interaction.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, telling yourself it's just appreciation for a good meal. But deep down, you know it's more than that. Joel has always been kind to you, always looked out for you, but now, as your eyes lock in a silent understanding, you sense something different. Something forbidden.

"So, you really like the sauce?" he inquires, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You nod eagerly, your taste buds still dancing from the burst of flavors. "Mhmmm! What’s in it?”

Joel chuckles. "That's top-secret information, darlin', Ain't gettin’ it outta me that easy."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you walk behind the grill and up to Joel. “How about we make a deal? You give me the secret sauce recipe, and I'll show you something I know you wanna see.”

"Alright, you've got my attention."

Slowly, with deliberate grace, you begin to lift your shirt just enough for him to catch sight of the vibrant pattern of your bikini top beneath—your fingers deftly move towards one side strap of this bikini top; teasingly pulling at it as if contemplating revealing even more than intended

"Fuck - " he breathes out, quickly shaking his head to compose himself before grabbing your arm to stop you. "Your dad's right there, the hell you doin'?”

With a mischievous wink, you let the strap snap back into place, leaving just enough to his imagination. "Maybe later then," you tease “If you wanna see the rest come find me Mr. Miller.”

Joel watches you step back and saunter away towards the pool, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. The playful sway of your hips is hypnotic, and he can't help but stare as you make your way over to the pool. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of desire that's clouding his judgment. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning his attention back to the grill, but the sizzle of the meat does little to drown out the sound of your laughter carried in the breeze.

He glances over at you, watching as you settle by the pool, your legs dangling in the water. You're a vision, your hair catching the sunlight, your smile bright and inviting. He tries to focus on the task at hand, serving people, and making small talk, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He can't help it; you're like a magnet, drawing him in against his better judgment.

He watches as you reach for a slice of watermelon on your plate, its vibrant red color promising a burst of sweetness. The juicy fruit is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. As you take a bite, the watermelon's juice is so abundant that it escapes your lips, trickling down your chin.

In an attempt to catch the runaway droplets, you quickly bring your hand up to your face. But in your haste, another stream of juice breaks free, trailing a path down your neck and disappearing into the valley between your breasts. The sensation of the cool liquid against your heated skin makes you gasp softly, making Joel groan under his breath. He watches you with an intensity that borders on feral. His grip tightens around the spatula he's holding as he takes in the sight of you, flustered and trying to contain the watermelon's sweet rebellion. His mind races with images he knows he shouldn't entertain—images of him licking away those sticky trails left by nature's candy on your skin; his hands following suit to ensure not a single drop is wasted; his lips tasting every inch they cover until there's no trace of watermelon left.

His body reacts before he can stop it—a sudden twitch in his pants that thankfully goes unnoticed by everyone else due to his strategically placed apron tied securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath to regain control over his runaway thoughts while simultaneously adjusting himself discreetly under the cover of fabric.

Taking the opportunity to step away from the grill, Joel grabs a cold Corona from the cooler, the bottle sweating as much as he is. He approaches you but stops for a split second to watch you. The sight of you lying there, your body still glistening with juices, makes his heart race.

"Thought ya might be thirsty," he says, handing you the beer, his voice deeper than usual.

You look up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Took you long enough," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you take the beer and sip it.

He sits down beside you, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're playin’ with fire, y’know that sweetheart?" he warns.

You just smirk, leaning back in your chair, your gaze locked onto his like a little puppy.

"You keep lookin' at me like that, and we're gonna have a problem," Joel says, his voice a low rumble.

"What if I want a problem?"

His intake of breath is sharp, and you can see the effect your words have on him. His jaw clenches, and there's a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that tells you he's teetering on the edge of control. You watch as Joel quickly gets up from his chair and walks away. He rounds the corner of the house before disappearing.

You wait for a moment before you put your beer down beside the one he left and casually stand up to follow him.

Around the side of the house, away from prying eyes, Joel is leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The moment he sees you, his eyes darken.

"What are we doin' here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close the distance between you, your body brushing against his. "Something we both want," you reply confidently, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

He captures your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "This is wrong," he murmurs, though the conviction in his voice is wavering.

"Does it feel wrong?" You challenge, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, his gaze dropping to your lips. Then, with a groan of surrender, he closes the gap between you, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve as if he's memorizing you by touch. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him, a mix of beer and the sweet tang of barbeque sauce, drives you wild.

Suddenly, Joel breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "We can't do this here," he says, glancing around to make sure no one has followed you.

You nod, your breath hitching as you realize the gravity of what you're about to do. "Then take me somewhere we can," you whisper back, your hand slipping into his.

With a groan that sounds almost pained, Joel takes a step back, pulling you with him as he leads you away from the party and towards the detached garage at the end of the driveway. His grip on your hand is firm, almost possessive, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The inside of the garage is cool and dimly lit compared to the bright sunlight outside. It's filled with tools and gardening equipment—a testimony to Joel's many hobbies. The door lightly closes shut behind you, sealing out the world and the sounds of the party. The air is thick with the scent of oil and wood, a heady mixture that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Joel wastes no time, pressing you against the cool metal of a parked truck, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

"You've been drivin’ me crazy all day," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Teasin’ me like that in front of everyone."

You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

His lips crash onto yours once again, demanding and dominant. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You can feel his stubble rough against your skin.

"You're playin’ a dangerous game, baby," he murmurs against your mouth.

He spins you around roughly, pressing your chest against the truck's hood. You can feel the cool metal against your overheated skin. His hands tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

"Tell me whatcha want," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"You," you gasp, arching your back to press closer to him. "I want you, Joel."

He rewards you with a slow grind of his hips against yours, the friction making you moan. "You want me to fuck ya, sunflower?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you whimper, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for support. "Please, Joel."

He chuckles darkly, his lips tracing a path down the side of your neck. "Beggin’ already? I thought you liked playin’ hard to get." You feel his teeth nip at your skin as he speaks. Your body trembles with need, your breathing coming out in short bursts. You don't understand why this feels so right, but you don't question it anymore. "Stay still," he orders, his voice firm.

You force yourself to comply, your body trembling with anticipation. He takes his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. When he finally reaches beneath the fabric of your bikini top to palm your breast, you can't help but let out a moan of relief.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb circling your nipple. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His other hand slides down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You're already so wet for him, and when his fingers brush against your clit, you can't help but buck your hips.

"Fuck, you're so responsive," he groans, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You're panting now, desperate for release. But he denies you, pulling his hand away just as you're about to tip over the edge. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "You don't come till I tell ya to."

He spins you around once again, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "I wanna see you baby," he says, his hands tugging at your shorts. "All of you."

You help him undress you, your hands shaking with need. Once you're standing before him in nothing but your bikini, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says, the concrete floor cool against your skin. You hear the zip of his pants and then them falling to the ground along with his boxers as he steps forward, his hands fisting in your hair guiding you to his cock. "Open up," he commands, his voice gruff. "Show me how much you want this."

You part your lips obediently, taking him into your mouth. He's big and hard, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eliciting a groan from above and then take him entirely until he's hitting the back of your throat.

"That's it, sunflower," he praises, his hips thrusting gently. "Just like that."

You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you take him deeper. His grip on your hair tightens, and you can tell he's struggling to last. "Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says, his voice strained.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The salty taste of his arousal mixes with the lingering sweetness of the watermelon, creating a heady combination that has you moaning around his length.

"Feels so damn good baby," Joel groans, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. His eyes are locked on yours, filled with a raw, unfiltered desire that sends a thrill through you. You feel his thighs quiver under your hands, and you know he's close. But before he can reach his peak, he gently pulls you away, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop.

"Up," he commands as he pulls you to your feet, his hands roaming your body once again. He unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground, and then he's cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. "Tell me you want this," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you baby."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

With a growl, he lifts you onto the hood of the truck and with a hunger in his eyes that matches your own, Joel hooks his fingers into the sides of your bikini bottoms, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly begins to peel them away. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. He tosses the bikini bottoms aside, his hands returning to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he steps closer.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs approvingly, his fingers tracing the seam of your cunt. You can feel yourself growing warm at his words, but you don't have time to feel self-conscious because he's leaning in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers continue their exploration.

One finger circles your entrance before pushing inside, making you gasp into the kiss. He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously as he establishes a rhythm that has you writhing on the hood of the truck. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusting fingers.

"Joel," you moan, your hands fisting in his shirt as pleasure builds within you. "Please..."

He chuckles against your mouth, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. "Please, what?" he teases, even as he adds another finger, filling you even more. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you inside me," you pant out, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he's playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Joel's eyes darken at your words, and he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

You ready for me, sunflower?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance.

You nod eagerly, your body aching for him. "Yes, please."

With a groan, he pushes forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out at the intensity of it. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel even better than I imagined."

As the initial shock of your union subsides, Joel begins to move, his hips setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is a sweet invasion, a claim that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

"Look at me," Joel commands, his voice gruff with need. You lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze searing into your soul. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his pace increasing with each word.

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You know the answer he wants, the answer that feels right in this moment. "You," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you, Daddy."

A shudder runs through Joel at the sound of the word Daddy falling from your lips. "That's right," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed vigor. "You're mine, sunflower. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy," you moan louder this time, surrendering yourself to him completely.

The words, once taboo, now feel like a secret language between the two of you. With each thrust, Joel reaffirms his claim on you, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his release.

"Harder," you beg, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. "I need more."

He responds with a growl, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the garage, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. "Is this what ya need?" he pants, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Yes," you cry out, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. "More... I need all of you."

In response to your plea, Joel reaches up and wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race and your head spin. The sensation of being restrained by him sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's a thrilling mix of fear and excitement that heightens the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that baby?" he rasps out, his eyes searching yours for confirmation even as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You like it when Daddy chokes you while he fucks your pretty little cunt?"

You nod as much as his grip will allow, your breath coming in short gasps as stars dance behind your closed eyelids. "Yes," you manage to choke out.

The world around you seems to blur into a haze of pleasure and desire as Joel continues to claim your body with an almost feral intensity. His grip on your throat remains firm, yet gentle enough not to cause harm, serving as a potent reminder of his control over you. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your neck only adds to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy that's building within you.

"Come on, sunflower, come for me." Joel grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeezin’ Daddy's cock.”

His words are the final push you need. With a cry that echoes off the walls of the garage, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, causing your entire body to convulse with the force of it. Your inner muscles clamp down around Joel's shaft, milking him as he continues to drive into you with powerful thrusts.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Joel isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax as he roughly pulls you up, positioning himself behind you.

"You think we're done?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I ain't even close to being finished with this sexy body of yours."

His hands grip your hips tightly as he lines himself up with your entrance once again. With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely and causing you to cry out in a mix of pleasure and surprise. The new angle allows him to go even deeper than before, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he sets a brutal pace that has the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the garage. "You feel so fuckin' good like this."

One hand releases its grip on your hip and tangles in your hair instead, pulling it just hard enough to tilt your head back and expose the long line of your neck. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he continues to pound into you from behind.

"Such a good girl," he praises between thrusts, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Takin’ Daddy's cock so well.”

His other hand comes down on the curve of your ass with a sharp smack that makes you gasp and push back against him for more. The sting of the slap only adds to the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he drives into you again and again. Each smack is followed by a soothing caress that sends shivers down your spine and makes a heat pool low in your belly once more.

"You like it when I spank this naughty little ass?" Joel asks wickedly as his hand comes down on the other cheek, this time eliciting another moan from deep within you. "Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes," you manage to gasp out between thrusts, your body shaking under his relentless assault . "I love it when you spank me, Daddy.”

The sound of your admission seems to spur Joel on even more. His thrusts become wilder, more uncontrolled, as he chases his own release. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back further, forcing you to arch your back and take him even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

"That's it, baby girl," Joel growls, his voice ragged with desire. "Come for me one more time."

His words are all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge once more. Your body convulses beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around his shaft as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Joel lets out a guttural groan as he feels your orgasm milk his own from him. His hips stutter against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, marking you his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the only sounds in the garage are the ragged gasps of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Slowly, Joel releases his grip on your hair and hip, his hands gently caressing the skin he'd so roughly manhandled just moments before.

"You okay, sunflower?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern as he carefully withdraws from your body.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you manage to say, your voice shaky but filled with a satisfaction that you've never felt before. "I'm good. More than good."

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck. "You're more than good, baby girl. You're incredible."

He helps you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you to steady you when your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His eyes scan your body, taking in the marks he's left on your skin—the redness where his fingers had gripped you, the faint handprint on your ass, the love bites that dot your neck and shoulders.

"Let's get ya cleaned up," he says, his tone gentle as he leads you over to an old sink in the corner of the garage. He turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before wetting a clean rag and using it to gently wipe away the evidence of what just happend.

You watch him, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the tenderness of his actions. This is a side of Joel you've never seen before—a side that's caring and attentive, a side that makes you feel cherished and loved.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean, he helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin with each article of clothing he helps you into. When you're fully clothed again, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're so beautiful, sunflower," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Inside and out."

The warmth of Joel's embrace and the tenderness in his voice make your heart flutter with a mixture of joy and trepidation. You're standing in a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've ever experienced.

"Joel," you say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter, "what does this mean for us now?"

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that takes your breath away. "It means," he begins, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently, "that I can't ignore these feelings any longer. It means that I want to be with you, truly be with you, in every sense of the word."

Your heart leaps at his words, but reality quickly sets in. "But what about my dad? What about everything else?"

Joel nods, understanding the weight of your concerns. "I know it's complicated," he admits. "And I don't have all the answers right now. But I do know that I can't go back to pretending there's nothing between us, that you're just my best friend's daughter.”

You smile at that, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "So... where do we go from here?"

"First," he says with a grin, "we get back to that barbecue before your dad sends out a search party." He gives you one last lingering kiss before stepping back to survey the scene. "Then we figure this out together—away from pryin’ eyes and family gatherings."

With a nod of agreement, you follow Joel out of the garage, your hand securely tucked in his. The world outside seems different now—brighter, more vibrant, as if your encounter has somehow altered your perception of reality. The sounds of laughter and music from the barbecue drift towards you, a stark contrast to the intimate silence you've just left behind.

As you approach the party, Joel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take this one step at a time," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the gathering. "Okay?"

You nod, grateful for his presence and his promise. Together, you reenter the party, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the secret you now share with Joel.

Throughout the afternoon, you catch each other's eyes from across the yard, exchanging knowing smiles, and subtle touches whenever possible. Your dad, none the wiser, chats happily with neighbors and friends, his laughter mingling with the sounds of summer.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood, you find yourself standing next to Joel by the grill once more. He hands you another beer, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent gesture of affection.

"So," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow, "how's that secret sauce treatin ya?"

You can't help but chuckle, the memory of your earlier exchange bringing a flush to your cheeks. "I think it's safe to say it's the best sauce I've ever had," you reply with a wink, taking a sip of your beer to hide your smile.

Joel laughs, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I don't know about that," he teases. "I might have to give you a few more samples before you can make such a bold claim.”

But before you can retort, your dad saunters over to join you by the grill. He claps Joel on the back affectionately and turns to address both of you.

"You two look like you're up to no good," he says with a smile. "What are you plotting over here?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words—does he suspect something?—but Joel seems unfazed as he throws an arm around your dad's shoulders with brotherly affection.

"Just discussing some top-secret barbecue business," Joel replies smoothly, giving your dad a reassuring squeeze before releasing him and turning back to tend to the grill once more.

—

Eventually, as the crowd begins to thin and the night grows deeper, your dad announces that it's time to start cleaning up. You join in, helping to gather plates and cups and fold tables, all the while feeling Joel's gaze on you.

Once the last of the guests have said their goodbyes and the yard is returned to its peaceful state, your dad claps Joel on the back, thanking him for another successful barbecue. "You outdid yourself this year, Joel," he says with a smile.

Joel returns the smile, though his eyes flicker to you for a brief moment. "Always happy to host," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of emotion that passes between you two.

Your dad turns to you, his eyes tired but content. "I'm gonna head home, kiddo. You coming, or are you gonna help Joel clean up?"

You glance at Joel, who gives you a small nod, understanding the silent question in your eyes. "I'll stay and help out, Dad," you say, your voice calm and composed. "You go get some rest."

Your dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Always the responsible one, just like your mother. Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

With a final wave, your dad heads off down the street, leaving you and Joel alone under the starlit sky. The moment his figure disappears into the distance, the air between you seems to crackle with anticipation.

Joel steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and intimate.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing everything, I guess."

He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight," he says softly. "But I want you to know what happened between us... it wasn't a one-time thing for me."

Your heart swells at his words, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "It wasn't for me, either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. Then, with a shared look of understanding, you both begin to tidy up the remaining mess, working side by side in comfortable silence.

When the last dish is washed and put away, and the yard is once again pristine, Joel takes your hand, leading you to the porch swing. The night is quiet now, save for the distant sound of a dog barking and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

You sit down next to him, the swing creaking slightly under your combined weight. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both look up at the stars.

As you sit there, nestled under Joel's arm, the stars twinkle above, casting a serene glow over the quiet neighborhood. You feel a sense of peace and contentment that you've never experienced before, a feeling of being exactly where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful tonight," you murmur, your head resting against Joel's shoulder.

“It sure is," he agrees, his voice a soft rumble. But when you tilt your head back to look at him, you realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at you. His eyes trace the contours of your face, drinking in every detail as if to memorize you, to etch this moment into his memory forever. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, a silent indication of the smile he wears in his heart, a smile that reaches out to you, enveloping you in its embrace.

"Joel..." you begin, unsure of what to say next. There are a million thoughts swirling in your head, a million questions about what the future holds for the two of you.

He seems to sense your unease and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out, sunflower," he assures you again.

You take a deep breath, letting the comforting weight of Joel's arm around you anchor you to the present moment. The uncertainty of the future looms ahead, but for now, you choose to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"I know we will," you reply.

Joel's smile is soft. "That's my girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Brave and beautiful.”

The gentle sway of the porch swing and the rhythmic chorus of crickets lull you into a state of peaceful tranquility. Your eyelids grow heavy, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Joel notices your drowsy state and smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Come on, sunflower," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your weary senses. "Let's get you inside." With surprising gentleness, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stands from the swing. You let out a sleepy protest but quickly settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he carries you into the house.

He navigates through the darkened rooms with ease, making his way to his bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, pulling back the covers so he can tuck you in.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around the room, turning off lights and setting an alarm for the morning. When he's satisfied that everything is in order, he begins to undress, shedding his clothes until he's standing in nothing but his boxers. The sight of him—all hard planes and toned muscles—makes your breath hitch in your throat despite your sleepy state.

Joel catches your gaze and chuckles softly. "Like what ya see?" he teases gently as he slips into bed beside you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Always," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes darken at your confession, but he makes no move to act on the attraction that still crackles between you. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Get some sleep, sunflower," he says softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of your face.

You nod again, snuggling deeper into the covers as Joel turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The bed shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, the heat of his body a comforting presence in the cool room.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Joel's arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, and he lulls you into a deep, peaceful slumber. In the quiet darkness of the night, with Joel's protective embrace surrounding you, you feel safe and cherished. The worries and uncertainties of the future fade into the background, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging and you know this is exactly where you were meant to be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader

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joelscurls · 8 months

Text

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.

“Ah — that’s alright.”

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?

But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff.

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers.

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.

“Hey,” you announce.

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades.

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers.

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?”

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.”

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales x female reader #Frankie Morales fic #Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales fanfiction #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier fic #Triple Frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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adore-laur · 3 months

Note

would love to see how dadrry would react if his girls asked him for a baby brother 🤭

——

During dinner, after Harry picked the girls up from preschool and daycare, your eldest rambles on about her classroom adventures through spoonfuls of homemade fruit pasta. You smile at her with an undefinable amount of fondness while hanging on to every word. She seems to be loving school and adapting just fine to not seeing her parents as often throughout the weekdays. It could crumble your heart into ruins if you let it, but you focus on the bright side: it's one less thing to worry about when you're away from your babies. She's safe, she's happy, and while you miss her dearly during the day, her independence is blooming beautifully. It's evident in how she can hardly sit still in the morning.

Harry listens intently, only interspersing questions when appropriate so as not to make her lose her train of thought. Your youngest is sitting on his lap, secured by his fingers splayed across her tummy, while his other hand absentmindedly pretends to be an airplane serving applesauce straight into her awaiting mouth. It's a blissfully domestic scene, and you sometimes wish you could view it outside of your body and witness the pure, tangible love surrounding the kitchen table from an outsider's perspective.

The mellow evening sunlight washes the room in a dandelion-colored hue, and the California heat floats through the window to warm your soul. Crashing ocean waves accompany the sound of silverware clinking and the sweet lilt of your daughter's voice. With the weekend ahead, you feel a strong sense of contentedness. Being at home with the entire family, with no obligations pulling you apart, feels like diving into a pool on a hot summer day—it relaxes your muscles and rejuvenates your mind.

In the middle of a story about finding worms on the pavement at recess, your daughter, with unbridled enthusiasm, says, "A friend I talked to today told me she has a baby brother."

"Really?" Harry replies, matching her enthusiasm. "Did you tell her you have a sister?"

"Yeah, and I also told her I want a brother."

The bite of grilled chicken you swallow almost gets stuck on the way down your esophagus. Your eyes shoot to Harry, whose eyes are already locked on yours with humorous shock swimming in them. He hides his smile against the baby's head before kissing it and waving his hand, silently signaling for you to take the lead.

"A brother," you say slowly, fidgeting with the napkin beside your plate. "You want a baby brother. When... sorry, how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since today at school!" On the high chair, she sits on her knees and beams with excitement. "My friend says her brother is cute and fat. Now I want one."

Harry, your savior, jumps in by saying, "Your baby sister is cute. And, well, she's chubby." He pats her precious little potbelly and bounces her in his lap. "Like most babies are."

"I want a baby sister and brother."

"Why do you want a brother?" you ask, mystified by the unexpected dinner conversation. Before her little sister was conceived, she only asked for a sibling. Now she's getting specific, and you're lost on how to answer adequately.

"Because." Dead silence follows her response as she stabs her silicone fork into the last pineapple tidbit in her bowl.

"Fair enough," Harry says. There's a sneaky glint in his gaze, and you know he's enjoying this subject matter far too much. You never have to worry about bringing up the prospect of having another baby together since you know he's all in. But since you're the one who carries the babies and pushes them out, he understands you're not quite ready yet. Or, at least, your body isn't.

"We can't guarantee you a brother," you say gently. "That's not how it works."

She frowns, looking at you and then at Harry. "How does it work?"

Harry snorts and stands up to begin clearing the empty dishes. "You should save that question for another time, lovebug." He kisses her cheek as he passes by. "C'mon, show me how Mommy taught you to wash your hands."

——

Later that night in bed, you lay your head on Harry's bare chest and delicately trace your fingers along the length of his bicep. The room is still, and his breathing is a constant sound and rhythm against your skin. Knowing you get to bask in his presence all day tomorrow is a wonderful thought to fall asleep to.

The weekend plans are still in discussion. Maybe you'll all just stay home and have a beach day. Maybe you'll take the kids to the park and fly the kites Harry recently bought for a breezy day. Whatever may come, you know there will be love and laughter in abundance.

"I need your breakfast order for tomorrow," Harry says, his voice gruff. He had a busy day at work, so you took over the kid's bedtime routine while he luxuriated in a long, hot shower and did his nightly stretches.

"I can get up to help," you reply. You know it's quite literally his job to cook meals for people, but you want to take a load off his shoulders. Going into parent mode after a long work week is no easy feat for anyone. It requires teamwork.

"No, you're sleeping in." He wraps you in his arms and buries his nose into your hair. "I'm serving you breakfast in bed with a side of cuddles."

You smile sleepily. "I'd like that. I'll eat whatever you make, by the way. Surprise me."

He squeezes you, slides his thigh between yours, and murmurs, "Think I'll eat you instead."

You lift your head and kiss his mint-flavored lips to shut him up. He always likes to start things right before bedtime. There's something about the intimacy of being alone with the door locked in the quiet of the night with the man who you wake up to every morning. It's rare to indulge in moments like these.

"So, a baby brother, huh?" you say, switching gears to more innocent matters. You need all the sleep you can get tonight.

Harry laughs, his eyebrows raised as he rubs a hand down his face. "She kind of demanded it, didn't she?"

"Oh, don't even start with that." He'll use anything as a way to inspire the idea of baby number three.

"You know my answer. And hers, apparently. I'll be patiently waiting here until you say the word."

"What's the word?"

He hums a deep rumble beneath you. "Um... let's make another baby."

"How discreet," you say, laying your head back on his chest. "Anyway, I think a two-year gap is what works best. It gives me time to, you know, recover from the craziness and sleep deprivation."

"You want another baby with me?"

The fact that he even has to ask is befuddling. There is no one you'd rather do this with. He's the best husband and the best father, and the family you created with him is just beginning.

"Yeah," you say softly, admiring the vulnerable look in his eyes. "One more. Maybe two."

Harry pleasurably groans and shifts his hips, the mere idea of knocking you up again somehow turning him on. You feel his hardness, which makes you roll your eyes. Men are too easy. "Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'm tremendously happy with what we have right now."

"What if we have another girl?"

"Then consider me the luckiest man in the universe." He tilts his head on the pillow. "Is it bad if I secretly hope that happens?"

"Three princesses to spoil rotten."

"Four," he whispers, tapping his fingers along your spine. With a sigh, he adds, "It's been hard being away from them. From you."

Although he keeps his promise of always being home by dinnertime, he doesn't always get to drop the girls off in the morning. By the time you get them settled in the car, he's already in the trenches at work. To make up for it, he cooks their breakfasts and kisses them goodbye before he leaves.

"We have our trip to Italy next month," you mention.

"Fuck, that's right." Harry seamlessly flips you over so that he's hovering over you. "Perfect time and place for babymaking. Maybe we should start practicing right now."

You place your palm over his mouth and say, "Shut up."

For the next hour, he uses his mouth for… other reasons.

——

#SORRY THIS IS BAD #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur

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forever-rogue · 8 months

Note

hello miss bee 🐝

if you're in the mood to write for joel id love to ask one where he and reader just had a baby of their own and ellie starts to feel left out but they both comfort and reassure her that they won't treat her differently since they already unofficially adopted her anyway 🫶🤲

AN | There may be a new baby on the way, but that doesn’t you’ll ever love Ellie any less. She just needs to be reminded of that💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I hate this,” you plopped down in the chair on the back patio with a loud huff. You heard a snort of amusement from behind you and turned around to find Joel watching you in amusement. Your lips pulled into a pout and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “this is all your fault.”

“Hmm,” he raised an eyebrow before going back over to the makeshift grill to check on dinner, “pretty sure that’s only half true, sweetheart.”

“Well,” you crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at him, “it’s still partially true. Being pregnant is the worst. Especially with this heat. I should have gotten pregnant in the summer so the worst of it would have been in the winter.”

“Think of it this way,” the way you raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested you were anything but amused, “we’ll have a fresh baby for the holidays.”

“I’m still hoping for a halloween baby,” you grinned, rubbing your belly that seemed to be growing by the day, “how cool would that be?”

“The coolest,” Joel teased as you laughed, an actual laugh that went straight to his heart, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“The real question - do you think we’re going to have a boy or girl?”

“Girl,” he insisted without hesitation, “I’m always going to have my girls. I don’t think that’s changing anytime soon.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you took a sip of the fresh lemonade and let out a soft sigh, “but I have a feeling you’re going to be wrong!”

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet on that?” Joel stood there, hands on his hips as he watched you closely. You stuck out your tongue at him, causing both of you to laugh.

What you hadn’t realized was that Ellie was in the kitchen, getting some plates ready to bring out, listening to the two of you. She loved you, she loved you both immensely. She knew that you and you knew that. But she couldn’t help the pang that settled in her stomach and the way her heart seemed to constrict. It was a feeling that hadn’t left her since you’d told her you were pregnant. You and Joel had been so excited to tell her and despite the shock of the news, she’d been excited too. Ellie Williams was finally going to have a baby sister or brother. Her family was growing.

But as the weeks passed by and your pregnancy became more visibly obvious, the worse she started to feel. And it felt like it was eating her alive. It was a mix of emotions that she was struggling to handle and cope with. She was excited for you and Joel and your entire little family but it left her feeling…lost and confused.

Ellie knew that both of you viewed her as your daughter and she viewed you as parents. She wondered what it would like when the baby came. Your baby - your and Joel’s flesh and blood. Once you had your own baby, would you no longer care about her? Would she be pushed to the wayside as you welcomed and loved your actual child?

These types of thoughts had been plaguing her for months now. It was stupid, so fuckin’ stupid, she’d be the first to admit, and yet the feelings remained. Realistically, she could have gone to either of you and asked in order to alleviate her fears or get some simple reassurance. But that seemed silly too. What was she supposed to do? Come up to you and ask ‘hey will you still love me once the baby is here?’ That felt ridiculous.

Instead, Ellie internalized her feelings, deciding to push them away and act like nothing was wrong. You’d noticed that something was off with your girl recently. Things had just seen so crazy lately, with getting ready for the baby and Joel being off for a while with work to do, it hadn’t been easy. But Ellie really had been your rock and you hated the idea that you were neglecting her in any sense.

“Ellie?” the girl almost dropped the bowl of salad she was holding when she heard you call out to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back her tears before heading into the backyard. Your entire face lit up when you saw her and she felt bad for a moment for ever having doubted your love and affection for her, “there you are, Ellie Bean! Everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she set the plates and bowl onto the table and nodded softly, “just got caught up cutting the…tomatoes.”

“There’s no tomatoes in the salad, baby,” you gave her arm a gentle squeeze, “we gave the last of them to the Meyers the other day. Are you sure you’re alright?”

She looked away and nodded, staring into the distance as she pleaded with her heart and mind to remain calm and collected. Joel clicked his tongue and caught her attention, giving her a questioning look. Sometimes he hated how well he knew her and how he seemed to see right through her.

“C’mere,” he motioned for her to come over and she obliged, walking over slowly with a heavy tread. She stopped in front of him and he put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly so he was closer to eye level with her, “what’s wrong, baby girl?”

“Nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth. Joel knew that something was up but he didn’t want to push her and possibly cause her to pull away from him. He sighed softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had become such a reflexive action that he didn’t even think about doing it any more, “you’re being gross and showing too much emotion.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he teased and that caused her to smile slightly at him, “‘cause it sure ain’t going to be you right, is it? You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she whispered, “not right now.”

“Okay,” he nodded lightly, “I’ll be here and ready to listen whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, old man,” she pushed his arm before turning on her heel and walking back over to you. She sat down next to you, her gaze drifting for a moment to your belly. You reached up and touched her face, gently stroking her cheek, “you’re both such saps.”

“It’s only because we love you,” you beamed at her. She felt her cheeks growing warm and pink as she stared at the bowl of tomato-less salad, “you wanna help me make some dessert while the food’s cooking? I was thinking pudding…ooh or maybe some sort of pie?!”

“Sure,” she perked up at your enthusiasm, unable to deny the appeal of spending time with you and making a dessert, “let’s do it.”

Ellie decided that she’d figure out the rest later. Right now, she was okay and she just wanted the two of you to have some fun.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m worried about her,” you closed your book and set on the nightstand before turning to your husband with a sad expression on your face. He followed suit and turned so he was fully looking at you.

“The baby?”

“I - no. And we don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet so calm down,” you laughed for a moment before moving to sit crossed-legged - to the best of your ability anyway - and gave him a serious look, “Ellie. She seems so closed off lately and it always seems like she’s upset, but when I try to talk to her she changes the subject or finds an excuse to leave. I feel like my poor baby girl hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Joel took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before you laced your fingers together, “she could never hate you.”

“But something is wrong and I don’t know what it is and I can’t fix it,” a wave of emotion washed over you and tears stung at the back of your eyes. You sniffled, fully aware that you probably seemed ridiculous right now but you didn’t care, “I just want to make it better.”

“Honey,” Joel’s voice was soft as he put his hands on your sides and gently pulled you towards him. You easily gave in, soft and pliable, as he settled you in his lap. You felt pathetic as you looked at him, tears running down your cheeks. He tenderly brushed them away before taking your face in his hands and turning your face up to his, “she doesn’t hate you and she never will. Whatever she’s going through right now, she’ll come around. She’s still guarded and sometimes these things take time. She’ll come around, she always does. We just have to keep on loving her.”

“Promise?” you whispered as he nodded softly. You leaned into his touch as he rubbed your back soothingly, “I don’t know what I’d do if…I don’t know. If she stopped loving us.”

“That ain’t happening,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I have a feeling I know what’s going on with her.”

“Oh?” you looked at him in surprise and he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your confused expression. The fact that you were so pouty and pregnant made you even more adorable to him than before. He had to fight back a laugh at your expression, opting instead to kiss you softly, “what do you think it is?”

“The baby,” he answered, putting a hand on your belly and rubbing it gently, “I think she’s worried about the baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think she thinks that we’re just going…to stop loving her?” the waterworks started again and this time you couldn’t hold back the tears, “she thinks we’re going to replace her!”

“Oh honey,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and tried to hug him as best as possible. You huffed as you buried your face into his chest and he softly cooed at you, “I don’t think she thinks we’re trying to replace her. I think she’s worried that we won’t have as much time and love for her."

"That's not true," you hated the fact that that thought even crossed her mind, "that's like…the farthest thing from the truth! She's my baby too. Nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know that," he gently brushed his fingers along your jaw before resting his hand on your cheek, "you know that. I think she just might need a little reassurance."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, "I can do that. I will do that."

"I have no doubt about that either, honey."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie startled when she heard your enthusiastic knocking on her door. She groaned as she looked at the old school alarm on the bedside table and saw that it wasn't even eight o'clock yet.

"Come in," she rolled onto her side so she was facing the door. You almost threw open the door in your excitement, already fully dressed and ready for the door.

"Hi my love!" Her eyes widened at your cheeriness, "good morning, Ellie Bean."

"It's early," she groaned as you leaned against the doorway, causing you to laugh softly, "why are you so awake?"

"I've been up for a while…couldn't sleep well," you shrugged it off, "but I thought it would be fun if we spent the day together, just the two of us!"

"O-oh," she slowly sat up, heart almost constricting with emotion, "are you sure?"

"Duh," you teased, "its been a while since it's just been the two of us and I figured we could have some fun!"

"Okay," she looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You clapped excitedly and she offered you a tentative smile in response, "w-wait, am I in trouble?"

"Of course not," you walked over to her and held out your hand to her. She took yours and slowly slipped out of the bed, "I just want to spend some time with my favorite girl."

"Alright," a little bit of a flush crossed her cheeks as she offered you a smile, "yeah, that could be fun."

"Let's go then slow poke, no time to lose!"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your day had been filled with doing anything and everything that Ellie wanted - within reason of course. As the day bled into night, the two of you were at the lake, sitting on the dock, feet dangling into the water.

"Can I ask you something?" You finally couldn't take it anymore and needed to clear all the air. Ellie paused before nodding slowly and turning towards you.

"Sure…"

"I feel like lately…things have been different," you put your arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, "and I want to make sure you're alright. You've been off lately, and I want to know if you're okay and if I can do anything to help."

"Oh. Oh," Ellie swallowed thickly; she thought she'd been better at disguising her feelings, "umm…it's…just. I don't know. Things have just felt different since you've been pregnant."

"Yeah?" You asked as she turned to you with a sad little smile and a nod, "oh, Ellie."

"I just…it feels weird that…umm. Like it's you and Joel, you know? And now you're having your own child and it makes me feel like…where's my place?"

"Baby," you tried to keep your own emotions at bay but it was hard when all you wanted to was to wrap her up in a big hug, "your place is with us - it'll always be with us. We're family. Nothing is going to change that."

"But if you love the new baby more than me?" You hated that she even thought anything like that. You wished you could convey just how very much you loved her, "I keep thinking about…what if you don't want me anymore."

"We will never not want you or love you," you took her hand and held it tightly in yours, "that will never change. Nothing could change how we feel about you. You're our girl, Ellie."

"Are you sure? The baby-"

"The baby doesn't change anything," you pulled her into your body as much as you could, "its another person we're bringing into our family that we can love. It doesn't mean any of us is going to get less love. Okay? I swear on my life. And Joel's life. All of it."

"Every time I've gotten close to people they've been taken from me," Ellie sniffled brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand, "my parents, my family, my friends…I almost lost Joel. I don't want to lose you too and the baby. I'm not sure if I'd make it if I did."

"Ellie," you softened at the young girl, "you are so young and you've been through so much. More than anyone ever should. And I know the world is scary and we don't know what the future holds but we can't let that dictate how we feel about the present or how we act. You're not going to lose us or your brother or sister. Never. And maybe me just saying that doesn't make anything better but I'll show you and I'll keep showing you that we mean it. Honestly, I don't think I'd survive without you. You are the world to me, Ellie."

"Being pregnant has made you so sappy," she laughed through her tears, "even more than normal. Its kind of gross."

"It's because I love you so much, kiddo," you grinned at her, brushing away her tears, "but the hormones definitely aren't helping! Luckily it won't be too much longer before the baby is here."

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," you confessed with a sheepish grin, "but I know I'll be okay. I've got you Joel and you. Everything will be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, a bit of confidence oozing back into her, "we'll be okay. I'm excited to meet the baby."

"Boy or girl you think?"

"Girl," she seemed so confident that you were almost convinced of that as well, "Joel's meant to be surrounded by girls."

"Funny, that's exactly what he said too," you shook your head in amusement thinking about the two of them. They were too alike for their own good, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Whatever," she playfully rolled her eyes, "we all know we're right!"

"Mhmm," you slowly stood up and held out your hand to her, "come on my love. Let's go home and annoy Joel."

She took your hand eagerly, "I love you too, just so you know."

"Yeah," you promised her softly, "I know. I love you more, kiddo."

Ellie approached you slowly, almost unsure if she should be coming over. You beamed at her, motioning for her to come closer. She stole a quick look at Joel, who offered her a small smile and nod of reassurance.

"Come here, my love," you held out your hand to her and she came over, staring at the bundle in your arms in awe, "I hate to admit it, but Joel was right. You've got yourself a little sister."

"Wow," she reached over and gentle stroked her chubby little cheek, "she's so small. What's her name?"

"Well, we don't have a name picked out yet," you smiled softly, "we were hoping you'd help us by picking her name."

"Me?"

"You! If you'd like to that is," you could see her eyes watering up, and your heart felt so full, "you can take a bit to think about it-"

"Daisy," she stated softly, looking between you and Joel to gauge your reactions, "I like Daisy."

"Me too," you gave her a hand squeeze, "Daisy it is. It's perfect. Do you want to hold her, Ellie?"

"I-I don't know," she swallowed the lump in her throat as the baby cooed softly, "she's so small and I don't wanna…hurt her."

"You won't," you promised, straightening up as she stepped closer, "hold her to your chest and make sure you're supporting her head, okay?"

"Okay," she reached over gingerly, as though the baby was made of glass. She took her from you and did as you said, holding the small baby protectively. Daisy made a few sounds before yawning and snuggling into Ellie. The girl watched her in amazement, "she's so cute and little."

"Just like you," you teased, reaching over and giving her arm a squeeze. You turned to Joel, who was watching the scene unfold with nothing short of heart eyes, "look at that, Joel. Look at our girls. They're the best."

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of Ellie's head, "they are. But you know what else?"

"Hmm?"

"I was right - it was a girl," he threw you a cheeky grin as you snorted in amusement, "wouldn't change it for the world."

"Yeah, me neither," Ellie piped up, "I guess we're a pretty cool family. Daisy and me anyways. You guys are alright."

"We love you too," you sighed contentedly, happy to have your little family all together, "both of you. Lots and lots."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

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grillpartshub-blog · 5 months

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nhaaauyen · 1 month

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⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART III: WE THOUGHT LOVE WAS SOMETHING

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part IV // part V

wc: 6.1k cw: brief mentions of alcoholism, violence author's note: ngl this just might be my favorite chapter so far, holy shit! thank you to all the lovely comments last chapter, you guys are srsly so sweet <3

Strings of twinkling lights crisscross overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze. The air is filled with the mingling scents of grilled food and the earthy aroma of a crackling campfire.

It's a birthday party for Marcus's daughter, Ren, and the yard is alive with celebration. Sitting on mismatched chairs, adults chat animatedly with drinks in hand. Children dart between the adults' legs, their excited shrieks filling the air as they run around.

You can't help but notice Marcus's absence, and you wonder if he's working late or planning to surprise his daughter by showing up later. It's odd for him to miss such an important event, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the joyful atmosphere around you.

A group of kids approaches you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Hey, lady! Wanna play Marco Polo with us?" one of them asks.

"Sure," You turn to Powder and Ekko, who are lounging nearby. "You two want to join?"

Powder rolls her eyes dramatically. "I'm too old for that," she declares, trying to sound mature.

You shrug and follow the kids to an open area of the yard. "Marco!" you call out, closing your eyes.

"Polo!" comes the chorus of giggly responses.

As you start to move, arms outstretched, you hear Powder’s voice again. "Wait, no! We want to join now!"

You chuckle to yourself as you hear Powder and Ekko scrambling to join the game. The yard fills with shouts of "Marco!" and "Polo!" as you navigate blindly through the space, guided only by sound and the occasional brush of a fleeing child against your fingertips.

Suddenly, your hands make contact with fabric. You grin triumphantly, sure you've caught one of the kids. But as laughter erupts around you, you open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with Sevika. Ren, peeks out from behind her, giggling uncontrollably.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Ready to join the adults yet?"

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “I was in the middle of winning a game.”

Sevika shakes her head in amusement and hands you a plate of food. "You know, you're not a babysitter. Let the kids have fun by themselves."

You take the plate, shrugging. "I know, but I don't mind."

"Ah, right. You like to hang out with people of the same maturity level as you." Sevika teases.

Before you can reply, a commotion erupts near the gate and both of you turn sharply to the source.

Grayson and Marcus have appeared, clearly amid a heated argument. Marcus's face is flushed, his movements erratic – clear signs of intoxication. Grayson stands firm, her posture rigid, and seems to be seething with barely contained anger.

A small voice pipes up beside you. "What's happening?" Ren peeks out, her eyes wide with confusion.

Instinctively, you move to shield her, gently guiding her behind you. "It's nothing, sweetie," you say, trying to keep your voice calm and reassuring.

But it's too late. Marcus catches sight of Ren, and his demeanor changes instantly. He shoves past Grayson, nearly knocking her over in his haste to reach his daughter. "Daddy's here!" he calls out, his voice too loud, too desperate. "Daddy didn't forget!"

Sevika moves swiftly, positioning herself protectively in front of you and Ren. Marcus stumbles to a stop before Sevika, his bloodshot eyes darting between her and his daughter. "How dare you," he slurs, turning back to Grayson. "You've gone too far now. This is my family!"

Grayson's voice is steel as she responds, "You lost the privilege of being a father when you became too drunk to do anything. The only reason why I'm still employing you is for the sake of your own daughter.”

His face immediately contorts with rage. "How fucking dare you," he roars. "You think you know everything? You can't even hold this place together!”

“You people think you are safe? Cause what, we have showers? Look at your pathetic captains, my wife has one fucking mission with you,” Marcus stabs a finger into Sevika’s chest and you expect her to retaliate but she stands still as a statue, “Because of you... she’s gone.”

The accusation hangs in the air and Sevika goes very still beside you, her expression unreadable but her fists are clenched so tight you’re worried she’ll bleed.

But Marcus isn't finished. His voice drops to a venomous hiss. "Fuck you. Fuck this place." He pushes past Sevika, reaching for Ren. "Come on, sweetie. We're leaving."

You instinctively tighten your hold on Ren as she looks up at you, her face questioning and so innocent about the situation. You want to protect her, to keep her from this mess, but you can’t and he scoops her up from your grasp.

As Marcus stomps off and the backyard falls into an uncomfortable silence, the cheerful lights now seem garish. You look at Sevika, there’s a tightness around her eyes and her jaw is clenched hard enough for a vein to be visible. Grayson approaches, her face a mask of controlled anger and regret, and she puts a reassuring hand on Sevika. The two share a silent look that is full of meaning.

"I'm sorry you all had to see that," Grayson says, addressing the stunned partygoers. "Please, try to enjoy the rest of the evening."

But the damage is done. The carefree atmosphere of earlier has evaporated, replaced by a heavy, oppressive tension. That night you couldn’t sleep, your mind kept wondering about the true cost of keeping Zaun safe and the toll it takes on those sworn to protect it.

Months ago if you told pre-Zaun you that you would care this much for the woman who was practically going to leave you as walker bait in the drug store, you would’ve thought you had gone insane. But somehow, Sevika had snuck into your thoughts and made residence there.

The garage door creaks as you push it open, letting in a sliver of sunlight. The air inside is thick with the scent of motor oil and metal. Sevika’s hunched over her workbench, her back to you, the whir of her bionic arm the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

You hesitate in the doorway, remembering Marcus's cruel words from yesterday. The pain in Sevika's eyes, quickly masked, had been unmistakable.

"Hey," you say softly. "Everything okay?"

Sevika doesn't turn around, her shoulders tensing slightly at your voice. It's clear she's not in a talking mood, but you can't bring yourself to leave her alone like this.

"Fine," she grunts, reaching for a wrench.

You lean against the wall, watching her work. The silence stretches between you. After a few minutes, you decide to try a different approach.

"So," you begin, injecting a note of cheerfulness into your voice, "got anything to do?"

Sevika pauses, then turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised. "You're that excited already, rookie? Haven't you been on five or six missions now?"

You grin, relieved to see a hint of her usual self. "Six, actually," you reply, then quickly add, "But who's counting?"

A ghost of a smile flickers across Sevika's face. She gestures to the motorcycle beside her. "Well, if you're so eager, you can help me with this. Make yourself useful."

You push off the wall, moving to her side. "What do you need me to do?"

You might not be able to relieve the damage from yesterday, but maybe you can help her focus on something else, even if just for a little while.

"Why are you so excited to get out there anyway?" Sevika asks as you work together. "There's nothing to see but walkers."

You shrug, searching for the right words. "I don't know... there isn't much left out there, but it makes me feel like I'm not in a snow globe, you know?"

Sevika pauses, looking at you with confusion.

"I feel safe but it’s just… not real? I want to be on the other side sometimes too. It's selfish 'cause we've got things so good here, but that was our world too, even if we lost it."

Sevika stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, her face softens. "I'm having a scout sent out today. Perhaps we can do our own scouting too."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes," she nods, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "We need to expand our territory anyway. But first, help me with this. We won't be going anywhere if I can't finish this within the next hour."

"Got it, boss!" you say eagerly, reaching for a nearby tool.

Sevika rolls her eyes.

"How about 'captain' instead?"

She tries to look unamused, but you can see she's fighting a smile. "Suck up."

You saluted. "Yes, ma’am!"

"Smartass," Sevika replies flatly, but there’s a playfulness in her tone. "Now, less talking, more wrenching."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

"Hell no."

Sevika, straddling her newly repaired motorcycle, looks at you like you've sprouted a second head.

"What?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You stand outside your house, arms crossed, eyeing the bike with undisguised suspicion. "Are you crazy? I'm not getting on that death trap – when you said you'd pick me up after you changed, I thought you meant with a car!”

Sevika rolls her eyes. "Why do you think we spent so long fixing this bike?"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening," you insist, shaking your head vigorously.

"What? You can go out there and face walkers, but not ride this thing?"

"Walkers don't get you into crashes!" you retort, your voice rising an octave.

Sevika sighs dramatically, holding out a helmet. "Just get on. I promise you won't fall off."

Grumbling, you take the helmet and reluctantly swing your leg over the bike. "What makes you so sure?" you mutter.

"Because of this," she says, grabbing your arms and wrapping them tightly around her abdomen. You can feel her muscles flexing beneath your fingers, and suddenly your mouth goes dry.

Before you can process what's happening, Sevika kicks the bike to life. The engine roars, and you let out a shriek as she peels out of the driveway.

"What the fu–" Your expletive is cut short as you zoom down the street, the wind whipping past you.

You spot Grayson on the wall, grinning widely as she signals for the gate to be opened. "Have fun, ladies!" she shouts as you approach.

"Grayson!" you yell, but your voice is lost in the wind.

Sevika glances back, noticing your tightly shut eyes. "Open them!" she shouts over the engine's roar.

Reluctantly, you peek one eye open, then the other. The world rushes by in a blur of color and motion.

"I hate you!" you yell at Sevika, but you can't keep the laughter out of your voice.

She responds by revving the engine, speeding up as you clear the gate. "No, you don't!" she calls back, the wind carrying her words to you.

As much as you want to deny it, the scenery rushing past you is stunning. Lush greenery blurs into a vibrant tapestry, the sun's warm rays dancing across the landscape. The wind whips through your hair, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers.

You catch Sevika's reflection in the side mirror. Her expression is one of pure contentment, as if riding this bike along the winding country road is where she truly belongs.

"You like it?" Sevika calls over her shoulder, a knowing tone in her voice.

"Maybe," you admit reluctantly. "Not too bad."

You can hear the smirk in her voice as she replies, "Well, I've got something to show you that might change your mind."

Your curiosity piques. "We're doing something else besides scouting?"

Instead of answering, Sevika begins to ascend a steep hill. The bike's engine roars with effort, and you instinctively tighten your grip around her waist, afraid you might slip off. The muscles in her abdomen tense under your hands, steady and reassuring.

"Look over," Sevika instructs as you climb higher.

"What?! Are you crazy?" you yelp, clinging tighter.

"Come on, rookie. Trust me," she insists.

For reasons you can't quite explain, you do trust her. Swallowing your fear, you turn your head to look over the edge of the road.

The view takes your breath away. A vast expanse of forest stretches out below you, a sea of green dotted with splashes of colorful wildflowers. In the distance, you can make out a winding river, its waters glittering in the sunlight like a ribbon of diamonds.

"Whoa..." you breathe, unable to form a more coherent response.

As you reach the top of the hill, Sevika brings the bike to a stop in a clear area that juts out like a natural balcony. From here, you can see for miles in every direction. Rolling hills give way to distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in a light mist. Birds soar on updrafts, their calls carried to you on the breeze.

You dismount the bike on shaky legs, your eyes never leaving the breathtaking panorama before you. The world feels impossibly vast and achingly beautiful from up here, a reminder of what still exists beyond the walls of Zaun.

"Worth the ride?" she asks.

You nod, unable to find words that could do justice to the moment.

The silence between you is comfortable as you both lean against the motorcycle, its metal still warm from the ride. The vast expanse of the world stretches out before you, a breathtaking canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Sevika's gaze is distant, lost in memories you can only imagine.

"This spot... it's special to me. I came here when Zaun was first established."

You turn to look at her, surprised by the admission. She continues, "I understand what you meant earlier. About feeling safe in Zaun, about missing this." She gestures to the expansive view. "The freedom to just... exist out here."

You nod, encouraging her to go on.

"I also came here after..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "After Marcus's wife died. I was so close to saving her. I promised I'd bring her home." Her voice cracks slightly. "But I couldn't. Not alive."

The pain in her voice makes your heart ache. "It wasn't your fault," you say gently.

She turns to you, her eyes fierce. "I'm the captain. Every death is my responsibility. They trust me, they're my people."

You feel a surge of protectiveness. "But who takes responsibility for you? For your sacrifices?"

Sevika falls silent, considering your words. When she speaks again, her tone is delicate. "Every time you go out there, don't you think it could be your last?"

The question catches you off guard. "I do," you admit. "Every single time."

She moves then, positioning herself in front of you. Her hands rest on the bike beside you, her body close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her. Her eyes search yours, intense and questioning.

"Then why?" she asks. "Why keep risking everything?"

You swallow hard, acutely aware of her proximity. "Because it's worth it," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because out there, I feel alive. Because someone has to, and if not me, then who?"

For a moment, the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you, the dying light of the sun shining a golden haze on her face.

This close, you can see every detail – the faint lines around her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. Your gaze lingers on the scar that runs across her cheek. You resist the urge to reach out and trace it, to ask about its story.

Sevika’s gaze locks with yours, her voice dropping to a whisper, rough around the edges but laced with something achingly tender. "You make me want things I’m not sure I deserve."

Sevika’s hands hover near your body, fingers trembling slightly as if they’re unsure whether to close the distance or retreat. You see the conflict in her eyes—Every inch she moves closer feels like a dance of tentative steps.

You swallow, the intensity of her words wrapping around your heart. The raw honesty in her voice leaves you breathless, but you manage to find your own, soft and steady.

“Then let me show you.”

Without thinking, you take the first step for both of you. You gently cup her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Your touch is tender, and your fingertips graze the rough texture of her scar. You can feel her breath hitch, a mix of surprise and anticipation.

For a split second, you feel her resist, a remnant of her walls trying to hold firm. But then she melts into you, her body softening as if surrendering to a battle she’s tired of fighting.

Her right hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, while her bionic hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first, an uncertain exploration of new territory. But as the seconds stretch, it deepens, a slow dance of lips and breath.

When you finally part, both slightly breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Sevika's eyes remain closed while her thumb strokes softly along your jawline as if she's trying to memorize the feel of you.

"I didn't think..." she starts, unsure of what she can, or even what to say.

You brush your lips against her cheek, feeling the raised line of her scar. "You deserve this, Sevika," you murmur against her skin. "You deserve everything."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun was blazing hot, its heat beating down on the training area Grayson set up in one of Zaun's less crowded areas.

"Remember," you say, adjusting Ren's grip gently, "It's not about strength. It's about precision and control."

Ren nods, and the other kids follow her steps with some additional adjustments from Grayson and Caitlyn.

You're about to move on to the next lesson when you notice one of Sevika's men approaching. Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but it comes to a stutter when you realize it's not Sevika herself.

"Got a mission for you tomorrow," he says gruffly. "Captain says to be ready at first light."

"Thanks," you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral. As he walks away, you can't help the twinge of hurt that settles in your chest. Sevika didn't come to tell you herself.

You shake your head, chiding yourself internally. She's busy. She's the captain. Why would you expect her to personally deliver every mission briefing?

Yet your mind still wandered to the kiss from a few days ago. The ride back to Zaun had been quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You had attributed it to both of you processing what had happened.

But then... nothing.

Since that evening, you haven't exchanged a single word with Sevika. A day turned into days and the silence began to feel deliberate.

You've caught glimpses of her – a flash of that distinctive silhouette disappearing around a corner, the echo of her voice giving orders from a distance. But every time you've tried to approach, she's been gone before you could reach her.

"Are you okay? You look sad." You're pulled from your thoughts by Ren's voice.

Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to the lesson. "I’m all good! Just thinking, how about we work on our stances?"

Both Grayson and Caitlyn share a knowing look at your response.

“How about we take over? You have to be up early tomorrow.” Caitlyn offers.

You were reluctant, but you agreed, mostly because you knew you needed it and because you couldn’t handle the questioning looks the two women kept sending you.

You're grateful for Caitlyn's insistence that you rest early the night before – the extra sleep has left you feeling sharper, and more alert. As you approach the gathered group, your breath catches in your throat. There's Sevika, leaning against one of the vehicles. She's dressed in military-style cargo, paired with a black tank top that exposes her toned arms, something she wears normally but you find that your body reacts even more so to her now.

Your heart races as you draw nearer, but before you can even think about approaching her, Sevika climbs into the front seat of the lead vehicle. You swallow your disappointment and resign yourself to riding in the back of the truck with the rest of the team.

The journey is tense and quiet, everyone is lost in their own thoughts about the mission ahead. As the prison comes into view, you're struck by how eerily calm it appears. The high concrete walls are still intact, crowned with coils of razor wire that glint in the morning light.

The decision to split into smaller groups is made quickly, you were paired with Sevika but your excitement was short-lived when you saw the tense look on her face.

The massive iron gates groan as you push them open, the sound echoing ominously through the empty prison yard. The concrete beneath your feet is cracked with tufts of weeds pushing through.

Inside, the prison is a maze of long corridors and shadowy corners. The air is stale and heavy with the musty scent of abandonment. As you move deeper into the facility, the lack of walkers becomes increasingly unsettling. You exchange a worried glance with Sevika, both of you on high alert.

Suddenly, a shuffling sound echoes from an adjoining hallway. Without a word, you and Sevika fall into formation.

The first walker stumbles into view, followed closely by two more. Sevika moves with lightning speed, pinning one against the wall with her bionic arm. In a fluid motion, she drives her knife into its skull, the blade sinking in with a sickening crunch.

You dispatch the second walker with a swift kick to the knee, bringing it down before finishing it off with your own blade. The third lunges at you, but Sevika is there in an instant, her strong arms wrapping around its torso and slamming it against the wall. Your knife finds its mark, and the walker slumps to the ground.

You turn to Sevika, hoping to catch her eye, to maybe finally break the silence between you. But she's already moving forward, her eyes scanning the shadows for more threats.

With a silent sigh, you fall in step behind her. The tension between you becomes almost unbearable.

And finally, you can't take it anymore.

"Sevika," you start. "We need to talk about what happened. About the kiss."

You see her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn't stop moving. "This isn't the time," she says, her voice clipped.

"Then when is?" you press, frustration seeping into your tone. "You've been avoiding me for days."

Sevika sighs, turning to face you. "Look, it was... it was a moment. We were caught up in–"

Her words are cut off as you both enter a large, open area – the prison's leisure room. Rows of cells line the upper levels, and old, battered furniture is scattered across the floor. Before you can respond to Sevika, there's a loud bang behind you.

You both whirl around to see the heavy metal door swing shut. Sevika rushes to it, pulling at the handle. "What the fuck? Who the fuck did that?!"

You join her, both of you straining against the door, but it won't budge.

Then you hear it – a low, guttural groan that sends chills down your spine. You turn slowly, your blood running cold at the sight before you.

Descending the stairs is a massive figure, easily seven feet tall and built like a tank. He's decked out in makeshift armor cobbled together from prison riot gear. In his hands, he wields an enormous sledgehammer that looks like it could crush a skull with one swing.

"Shit," Sevika hisses, drawing her knife. You do the same, but your weapons suddenly feel woefully inadequate.

The behemoth charges with surprising speed. You and Sevika dive in opposite directions, barely avoiding the hammer as it crashes into the ground where you are standing. You roll to your feet, darting in to slash at the giant's legs, but your blade skitters off his armored shins. Sevika tries for a higher target, leaping onto a nearby table to gain height, but the monster swings his hammer in a wide arc, forcing her to jump back.

"We need to get that hammer away from him," you shout, ducking under another wild swing.

Sevika nods, her eyes scanning the room for anything you can use. "On three, throw your knife at his face. Aim for the eyes."

You count down together, then launch your knives simultaneously. The blades whistle through the air, but at the last second, the giant raises his arm, and your knives embed themselves harmlessly in his padded forearm.

"Fuck!" you curse, now completely unarmed. "What the hell is this guy? Is he a walker?"

Sevika shakes her head, narrowly avoiding another hammer swing. "I don't think so. I've heard about survivors getting all drugged up, ending up just like them. Mindless, but stronger."

As the behemoth charges again, you and Sevika split up, desperately searching for anything you can use as a weapon. Your eyes dart around the room, scanning the debris-strewn floor for something, anything that could give you an edge.

"There!" Sevika shouts, lunging for a mop propped against the wall. But before her fingers can close around it, the giant's massive form slams into her. The impact sends her flying, her back crashing hard against the concrete wall. You hear the air rush out of her lungs as she crumples to the floor.

"Sevika!" you cry out, your heart in your throat. She's trying to roll away, but her movements are sluggish, stunned by the brutal hit.

The monster looms over her, raising his sledgehammer for a killing blow. Time seems to slow down. You don't think, you just move.

With every ounce of strength you have, you launch yourself forward, shoving Sevika out of the way. For a split second, you lock eyes with her, seeing shock and something else – hurt, maybe? – in her gaze.

Then the world explodes in pain.

The sledgehammer connects with your leg, and you hear the sickening crunch of bone before you feel it. A scream tears from your throat, raw and agonizing. The pain is all-consuming, white-hot, and blinding. Your vision swims, dark spots dancing at the edges as your body tries to process the trauma.

You force your eyes open, fighting against the waves of pain. Sevika is on her feet, and the transformation is terrifying. Gone is any trace of the woman you kissed on that clifftop. In her place is a cold, merciless killing machine.

Her eyes, usually so expressive, are now flat and dead. Her face is a mask of fury, lips pulled back in a snarl. In one smooth motion, Sevika snatches up the broken mop. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't strategize. She attacks.

The two halves of the mop become dual weapons in her hands. She drives one splintered end deep into the giant's thigh, using her bionic arm to force it through the armor padding. Before he can react, she's already spinning, jamming the other half into the gap between his helmet and chest plate.

The behemoth staggers, caught off guard by the ferocity of her assault. But Sevika doesn't let up. She's a whirlwind of violence, striking again and again.

You try to move, to help somehow, but even the slightest shift sends fresh waves of agony through your broken leg. You can feel the bone grinding, sickeningly out of place.

The giant finally falters under her onslaught, his steps are laggard and his grip on the weapon wavering. With a snarl, she wrenches the hammer from his grasp.

The man’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. Sevika shoved him back, the force of the blow sending him crashing to the ground. He tried to rise, but Sevika was relentless. She raised the sledgehammer high above her head, her muscles straining as she brought it down with all her might. The sickening crunch that followed was final, the man’s head caving in under the weight of the blow.

For a moment, the world went silent, the only sound was the ragged breaths escaping Sevika’s lips. The hammer is still clenched in her fists and blood splattered across her face – his or hers, you can't tell.

Sevika stands over him, chest heaving. For a heartbeat, she's still that cold-eyed killer. Then she turns to you, and you watch the ice in her gaze melt into concern.

"Can you move?" she asks, her voice hoarse as she rushes to your side.

You grit your teeth, trying to shift, but the pain nearly blinds you. "No," you manage to gasp out. "I think... I think it's broken pretty badly."

Sevika's eyes scan your broken leg. "We need to stabilize it," you say through gritted teeth, reaching for a nearby stick. "I just tie this to keep it straight and–"

"No," Sevika cuts you off, her voice firm but gentle. "I've got you." She immediately tears off a piece of her shirt like it was paper and ties the stick to your leg to keep it straight. You hiss in pain as she tightens it, and her eyes flit to you with worry.

“Thank you,” You try to stand, stubbornness overriding your pain. "I think I got it now, you can't carry our stuff and me-"

"Yes, I can," she interrupts, her tone brooking no argument. Before you can protest further, she's scooped you up in her arms, cradling you against her chest with surprising tenderness.

"This is embarrassing," you mutter, your cheeks flushing despite the pain.

"Yeah, that's what you get for being an idiot."

"Wow, way to cheer a girl up,” you reply sarcastically.

As Sevika carries you through the prison corridors, you can't help but study her face. Her guarded expression softens as she looks down. There's something else in there too, a whirl of emotions you can't quite place.

You tighten your hold on her, tucking your head against her chest. You can hear her heartbeat, strong and steady. The smell of grimy blood and her shampoo somehow distracts you from the pulsing pain in your leg.

The sound of gunshots echoes through the building and you feel Sevika tense. "Fuck," you mutter, "what is happening out there?"

Sevika shifts you slightly, freeing one hand to grab her radio.

"We've got two severely injured," crackles a voice through the static.

As you emerge into the harsh sunlight, you see members of your group carrying people out. Two of them have nasty stab wounds, blood seeping through hastily applied bandages.

Sevika gently sets you down next to the injured in the back of the truck. You watch as the rest of the group gathers around the other vehicle, their voices low and urgent as they discuss the situation. There are still people left inside.

Despite the throbbing pain in your leg, your instincts kick in. You reach for your bag, trying to pull out the first aid kit. Sevika notices and immediately moves to stop you.

"Stop, stop," she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You're injured. Let us help, tell us what to do."

You look up at her, seeing the worry etched on her face.

"Okay," you nod, wincing as you shift to get a better view of the injured. "We need to apply pressure to those wounds. Get the gauze from the kit and press it firmly against the bleeding areas."

As Sevika relayed your instructions to the others, you had forgotten to close your bag properly. In your bag was the red shawl you kept from the night of the campfire, and unbeknownst to you Sevika had seen it in there, her jaw visibly clenching at the sight.

More of her crew comes out the building, hauling out the fallen attackers, their faces set in a hard scowl.

“Are the rest dead?” she demands.

A gruff voice answers, “Yeah, we got those fucking bastards. We wanted you to deal with these.” The crew shoves three people onto their knees, their faces unremorseful and stoic.

One man in the center is screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice raw with fanaticism. “YOU WILL REPENT! THIS IS A RECKONING! THE WORLD WILL BE CLEANSED OF FILTH LIKE YOU!” His words are overlapped with another man reciting a desperate prayer, his hands trembling as he clutches at invisible salvation.

Sevika’s face remains a mask of cold detachment, her eyes flickering with something darker as she assesses the situation.

“They’re not worth our bullets,” she says, her tone flat and unfeeling. The others understand immediately, pulling out their knives.

You see Sevika stride toward the vehicle's trunk, and she retrieves a machete, its blade gleaming dangerously.

Sevika’s expression remains inscrutable as she approaches the only woman in the group, the machete held steady and unwavering. The final girl locks eyes with Sevika, but there’s an almost reverent look to them.

Her voice is trembling, but defiant. “No one is safe—you cannot escape His wrath.”

Without hesitation, Sevika swings the machete. In a brutal, swift move, her crew slits the throats of the remaining captives. The girl’s final scream is a gurgle of blood as Sevika’s blade comes down with a clean, merciless swipe, severing her head in a single, precise cut.

Blood splatters across the scene, painting their clothes and the ground. The force of the blow sends a spray of it onto Sevika and her crew, but she doesn’t flinch.

You’re left watching in shock, the brutal display leaving you breathless and shaken.

Sevika’s gaze shifts back to you as the last of the blood settles. The fierceness in her eyes softens just slightly, the ruthlessness giving way to concern. She takes in your injured state and the rest of the crew.

“Head back,” she commands, her voice almost robotic. “We need to get them to the infirmary immediately.”

The truck lurches and bumps along the road, each jolt sending a fresh wave of pain through your broken leg. You shut your eyes, focusing on the thought of arriving at Zaun.

When you arrive at the infirmary, Sevika is out of the vehicle before it even comes to a full stop. She scoops you up, carrying you inside with a determination that’s almost palpable. As she crosses the threshold, you catch sight of the crew still being helped out of the vehicle, their injuries more immediate and visible than yours.

"No," you mumble, your voice weak but insistent. "No doctors... attend to them first."

Sevika's eyes widen in disbelief. "What? Are you crazy?"

You shake your head, the pain and fatigue making it hard to focus. “It’s a broken leg. From what I can tell, no internal bleeding. They’re bleeding, Sevika. They need help now.”

She hesitates, clearly torn between her instinct to protect you and your insistence. After a moment, she lets out a heavy sigh, clearly exasperated by your stubbornness. The adrenaline from the fight is wearing off, and exhaustion settles over you like a heavy blanket. Sevika administers a painkiller, and soon the sharp pain dulls to a throbbing ache.

Silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing. Sevika sits beside your bed, her posture rigid, eyes fixed on the floor.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The fatigue is dragging you down, making it hard to keep your eyes open.

Sevika’s gaze remains locked on the ground, her face an unreadable mask. She doesn’t respond right away, but you can see the tremor in her hands and the tightness in her shoulders. With what little strength you have left, you reach out, your hand finding hers. The contact seems to jolt her out of her thoughts, and she finally meets your gaze.

What you see in her eyes is fear. Raw, unguarded terror. It's an expression you never thought you'd see on someone so strong like her, and it sends a chill through you.

Your hand moves to her face, fingers tracing the scar that runs along her cheek. Instead of pulling away as you half-expected, she leans into your touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment.

"It’s okay," you reassure, fighting to keep your eyes open. "I'm okay... just... don't leave me."

As you drift into unconsciousness, the last thing you hear is Sevika’s voice, a hushed murmur barely audible.

“I failed you.”

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ozwit · 6 months

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bouncybongfairy · 25 days

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Everything & The Kitchen Sink

Butch Wolverine x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Logan promised to come home early from the bar after her shift. You make dinner and get ready only for her to come home late and drunk. This some how leads to the two of you tribbing on the counter.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Fingering, Tribbing, Nipple Play, Squirting

(THIS IS A W|W FANFIC)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were cleaning up the kitchen after making dinner. Logan was supposed to be home over an hour ago, she was working as a bouncer at a local bar. She promised you she’d come straight from work, you’d spent all day preparing for just that. Cleaning the entire apartment, did all the laundry, made dinner, ect. Took a long shower, exfoliated and moisturized. You already wrapped her plate up and stored it in the microwave. Preoccupying yourself by watching TV until you fall asleep.

Logan carefully unlocked the door and saw you laying so still and statuesque. In comparison to what she sees at the bar all day you truly looked like an angel. The light of the television casting on you like you were glowing. She was past tipsy but not staggering or anything, she liked seeing how peaceful you were; knowing that once you woke up it’d be a completely different story. She opened the microwave and started salivating, it was her favorite. Baked potato with sour cream and chives, corn on the cob, two slabs of steak cooked medium rare, grilled shrimps and roasted carrots.

It looked so amazing she didn’t bother heating it back up. Stuffing her face, only using utensils when she had too. She hadn’t eaten anything before or during work and drank on an empty stomach. It was like the plate was fucking glowing. Lighting the cigar she had tucked behind her ear. Too drunk to care that she was sparking up inside. She came over to you and ran her finger along your bare thigh. Wearing her tee shirt and the band of your panties peeking out.

“Mmhm, you’re so soft,” she grumbled to herself, letting her calloused hand run up and down your skin. Stirring you awake and gently letting her body fall on top of yours. You were starting to stir awake, remembering how late Logan was. You push against her shoulders but she doesn’t care. Continuing to kiss your neck and grope your chest. The liquor and burnt smell of the cigar coming from her breath only reminded you of her loyalty to the bar.

“You’re late,” you huffed, sitting up and trying to get out of her grip.

“Was a late night baby,” she mumbled.

“And you're drunk,” you said, successfully wiggling out of her grip. Picking up the coat she let drop on the floor when coming home. Logan took this opportunity to grip your hips and thrust herself against you.

“So?” she laughed, pulling at the waistband of your panties and letting them snap against your skin. Entertained by how you jumped and squealed when the elastic hit you.

“I waited for a long time… I was all excited and you left me waiting..” you trail off. It sober her up a bit, knowing that you had waited for her while she lollygagged at the bar. Logan didn’t realize how much her company meant to you. Probably due to her own insecurity but she missed seeing the way she undervalued herself was affecting you. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you to her chest.

“I should have come right home. I’m sorry,” she said, kissing the top of your head.

“It’s okay, I know you have a lot going on. Just promise for next time,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I’m glad you ate,” you said, noticing her dishes on the counter.

Logan wasn’t paying attention anymore, now completely focused on running her hands down your body. She couldn’t get your smell out of her nose and it was starting to affect her self control. You were oblivious to how worked up she was becoming, Instead being off in your own little world. As much as you hated her cigar habit, the smell was somewhat comforting now as much as you complained about it. Sometimes you’d avoid washing the smoke smell off hoodies and pillow cases. You moved your hands up to her hair, brushing the loose stands out of her face. Eventually running your nails down her arms, you could feel the goosebumps form; her body hair standing somewhat making you giggle.

She was breathing hard, especially when you looked up at her. Big doe-eyes staring up at her, eyelashes fluttering and hair messy from your nap. Logan smashed her mouth against yours, bringing her hands up to cup your face. Pressing herself against you, pinning your body to the kitchen island. Her thumbs rubbing your face as you work your tongues together. It was sloppy and getting more heated by the minute. She grabs you by the waist and sets you on the counter. Her eyes damn near boggling while watching the recoil of your breast from being sat down so hard.

She grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over your head, exposing your chest. Seeing her so animalistic and feral was making your stomach feel inflamed. A deep blush covering your face and neck while wetness starts to drip down your folds; Logan herself felt a heartbeat in her jeans. Your noses were pressed together and you could smell the whiskey on her breath. Normally it would bother you but it was undeniable that when Logan was drunk she didn’t hold back during sex. Normally she was more gentle, enjoying giving you pleasure. The liquor made her more brutish and unfiltered and it was so fucking hot.

Hearing all the filth that slipped past her lips that normally went unheard due to her shyness. Using her strength against you, biting down on your soft skin with brutal force. Logan pecked your lips before moving down to your chest. Taking one of your nipples into her mouth and starts sucking and flicking her tongue. You ran your fingers through her hair and moaned loudly. Arching your back and balling your fists up in her hair. Your legs immediately begin to tremble from the pleasure. So sensitive from the anticipation that has been building in your belly all day. Resting your lips on the top of her head while groaning and whimpering into her hair. She pulled your panties to the side and used her middle finger to feel around your folds.

Smearing your wetness all over your lips before pushing two fingers into your entrance. She was completely zoned out, having your tit in her mouth while curling and pumping her fingers in and out of you. Any time she nips at the senstative bud you tighten yourself around her fingers; only encouraging her to do it more. Your walls felt so velvety against her digits. She broke out of her daze and pulled away from you slightly to see your face and God what a sight it was. You were completely red in the face, practically panting trying to catch your breath.

Eyebrows furrowed and nipples puffy and swollen; a light from above the kitchen island shining down on you. Making your chest glisten from the saliva covering your breast. You pulled her onto the counter to join you and started tugging at her jeans, which she quickly took off. Laying her back against the cold tile of the island. Before climbing on top of her, you sink your tongue between her folds. Spitting and flicking your tongue around, looking up to see Logan on her elbows. Cursing and sputtering while pushing herself against your mouth. Getting a little too excited you reach up and try grabbing at her chest. She snatches your wrists and pulls you towards her; now straddling her, you knees on either side of her hips.

“I’m not that drunk,” she huffs and starts gripping your hips, prompting you to start grinding your hips.

Now rubbing each other's sexes together, your wet folds sliding between one another. The tile was hurting your knees a bit but it didn’t stop you from quickening your pace. Finding the perfect rhythm, your clits continuously brushing against each other. Logan was arching her hips up, positioning herself so she could watch you ride her. Sitting up on her elbows and watching your tits bounce, saliva dripping onto her stomach. Too pussy-drunk to care if you were drooling or not.

“I’m cumming…” you groan out, taking her off guard.

Grabbing two handfuls of Logan's hair and pinning her fisting to the counter below you two. Your fists on either side of her head while riding out your orgasm. Squirting without stopping grinding your hips, causing the wetness to spread and spalsh all over Logan’s stomach. She immediately cums from watching you unraveling into a squirting fucked out mess. Digging her nails into your hips while thrusting her hips up, trying to get closer to you. Crying out, so overstimulated and jerking your hips forward. You collapsed on her chest, not giving a fuck about sleeping in your own wetness. Logan was too drunk to care, using the tee shirt to cover you like a blanket and falling asleep with you on her chest.

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unamused-boss · 5 months

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Post Sex Snacks

Billy Hargrove x Harrington Reader

I thought this would be cute... No smut (sorry) Short but Fluffy

Summary: You and Billy get a little hungry after your hours of fornication. In the hour of hunger you find out that your boyfriend is quite the cook.

The past few hours have been amazing. Like actually. You and Billy had been going at it for three whole hours. The time is now 5 o'clock, you have homework you need to do but your legs are to sore to move.Currently you are laying on Billy's chest taking in the warmth he is giving off. The comfort you were in was heavenly.

"You okay?" Billy asked. He's never been this comfortable when hooking up with someone. Usually he is trying to get out of there as fast as possible, but with you he felt calm. He wanted to be around all the time, if he wasn't it felt like a sickness.

"Yeah, I'm just hungry..." You sighed snuggling deeper into his chest.

"Well why didn't you say so?" Billy said as he got up an put some boxers and pants on. You looked to him in confusion. 'What is he talking about?' you thought.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"I'll cook you something." Billy said simply. You still look at him confused. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" You sassed at him playfully. "We just had sex for hours and you just casually drop on me that you can cook?"

"Yes I did." He stated confidently.

"I don't believe you." You said. Billy just laughed at your statement.

"You don't believe me?"

"Yeah, I don't."

"How about I show you?" He offered.

"Sex or cooking?" You teased.

"Cooking." He huffed out with a grin.

"Fine." You said.

You got out of your bed. Your nakedness following with you as you put some clothes on. One of those articles of clothes being Billies shirts. The both of you make your way down the stairs to your kitchen for Billy to cook.

"You one hundred percent know what you are doing?" You questioned him.

"Yes babe, have at least a little faith in your boyfriend." He laughed.

Billy got straight to work. He brought out a pan, some bread, butter, and cheese. He was making a "house staple" as he put it, a grilled cheese sandwich. Which he knew was your favorite. You sat an watched Billy work away at the food in front of him. You don't know why but you loved watching him cook. It felt so domestic, like you both are supposed to be doing this. You loved it. You loved him. It took a while to get to know him with all the walls he puts up. However, you love the carefree goofy guy that you get to call your boyfriend. You both understand each other, even if everyone else doesn't get it you both do. In your daze you did not realize that Billy placed a plate infant of you.

"Bon appetit!" Billy said. You look down at the grilled cheese in front of you.

"I looks edible." You say. You pick up the sandwich bringing it to your mouth and take a bite. . . . This is the best grilled cheese ever. Maybe because your boyfriend made it for you but still amazing. Your eyes light up.

"Billy this is amazing." You tell him.

"I tried to tell you but you refused to listen." He smirked. You just shoved his arm playfully.

"Were did you learn to cook?" You ask as you both ate.

"Uh- I watched my mom when she would make me snacks as a kid." He said simply. You didn't know that.

"I bet she made great food." You said not wanting to push any further with him, just wanting to enjoy the moment.

"Yeah, she was." He smiled at the fond memory of her. You scoot closer to Billy wrapping your arms around him bring him into a hug. Even with his high body heat already the hug was warm. You arms tighten around him as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"I love you." You state.

"I love you too." He answered. Billy wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your head. You both go back to eating after a minute not wanting the food to get cold. You both enjoyed your time together.

But everything was stopped when you both heard a car park in the drive way. You and Billy both knowing who it is. Not caring for what he will have to say cause you both will still be together. The familiar jingle of keys is heard from the front door. The door opens, a quick "I'm home!" rang through the house as Steve put up his shoes and coat. Steve made his way to the kitchen, which he thought was empty, to get a snack but instead come to see Billy Hargrove in his house. He knew you and Billy were close but he didn't know this close.

"What is that?" Steve asked.

"A grilled cheese." You answered refusing to discuss with him why Billy was here. You just continued to eat your sandwich. Steve, having decided he is no longer hungry, goes up to his room and not come back down. You and Billy just laugh at what just unfolded in front of you. Instead you go back to enjoying each others company while eating, and deciding of the fact that cuddles are a must after cleaning up.

I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for not being as active, College is kicking my butt. But it's almost summer!

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfiction #steve harrington #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x fem reader #william hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #stranger things billy #billy needs help #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x female #billy hargrove x gn!reader

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mammonsrockstargf · 3 days

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GRILLED CHEESE

pairing: beelzebub x gn!reader contents: smut, unprotected sex, tiny bit of choking, pet name (sweets), praise, he bites you once, multiple orgasms, overstim wordcount: 1k

It’s empty in the kitchen as Beel sits you on the counter before turning to the stove and beginning to make the grilled cheese. You watch his back with curiosity as he flips the sandwich, and the aroma of toast and melted cheese begins to fill the room.

Beelzebub hums to himself before he puts the finished food on a plate and turns to you. You expect him to chow down the whole thing in one bite. After all, that is why you assume he pulled you out of his comfy bed and down to the kitchen.

But instead of doing that, he slots himself between your legs and holds out the grilled cheese in front of you. You raise your brows, eyes shifting between the food and Beel.

“You're not gonna eat that, big guy?” you ask, and Beel shakes his head.

“No. It’s for you,” he replies, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You’re slightly surprised, but you’re never one to turn down a good sandwich, so you slowly take a bite. Beel watches with interest, licking his lips as his eyes gleam red. You chew on the food and almost moan at the taste.

“Mmmm, it’s really good, Beel,” you say. “But why are you making me grilled cheese at 10 p.m.?” you ask before taking another bite. Beel sheepishly smiles before taking a bite himself.

“It’s for energy,” he replies, and you giggle. After all, it’s just a casual Sunday evening. It’s not like you’re going to the gym or anything.

“What do I need energy for?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Beelzebub bottoms out, his thick cock stretching your walls to the max as he fucks his cock into you. With your legs on either side of his hips, he practically lays on top of you, pressing you into his mattress. He has one hand on your hip to keep you steady, the other is around your throat, applying light pressure that makes you feel dizzy.

Beel mouths at your jaw, tasting your salty skin, while he leaves breathy moans in your ear that make heat pool in your gut. You claw at his back while he slowly grinds his cock into you in circular motions, his leaky tip pushing at that mushy spot that makes euphoric waves of pleasure course through your body, all the way to your toes.

“You feel so good, sweets,” Beel mutters, giving your cheek a sloppy kiss. He pulls his hips back all the way back till only his tip is enveloped by your gooey insides before he buries himself to the hilt again. “Fuck,” you gasp, arching your back into him as Beel repeats the motion.

“I never want to leave,” Beel mutters, eyes lidded with how drunk he is off your body, your warmth, your taste. “I’d fuck you forever if I could.”

You whine as Beel begins to pick up his pace, fucking you harsher, faster. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, while his hand on your hip grips you tighter, mixing pain with pleasure. “So good for me,” Beelzebub moans, his voice coming out breathier than you’ve ever heard as he pistons his hips into yours, balls slapping against your ass. The familiar knot in your gut begins to tighten as his cock bullies your insides, carving a hole for himself in there. You squeeze your eyes shut, gasping for air as you’re fucked into the mattress.

“I’m gonna come, Beel,” you announce, and you feel his teeth grazing your neck as he continues to fuck you at a ruthless pace. “You’re gonna make me come,” you repeat, and you feel his dick twitch inside of you as he groans into your neck.

“Come on, sweets, wanna feel it. Come for me,” he says. If there’s one thing Beel gets off on, it’s your pleasure. Violet eyes meet yours as he watches your expression. Desperation and hunger mixed in them, quickly turning into satisfaction as you reach your high, sensitive walls clamping down on his length as you come. Your mouth shapes into an o, your liquids spraying Beel’s abdomen as you cry out.

“Fuck, you look-” Beel sounds completely out of breath as he licks his lips and watches your cum glistening on your skin. “So good,” he murmurs, coming down to kiss you as he continues to fuck you. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking involuntarily, as Beel sucks on your tongue, now focused on reaching his high.

He pulls out before turning you around, gripping your hips, and sliding in again. The new angle makes you feel even fuller as you drool into the pillow beneath you. Beel lays on top of you, chest against your back, as he grinds his hips into you from behind, his tip repeatedly nudging your sweet spot. Your eyes roll back as Beelzebub sinks his teeth into your shoulder, a growl coming from the bottom of his stomach as he comes inside of you, filling you with rows of his cum. He straightens up again, taking a second to admire the new bite mark, before pulling out and watching his cum spill out of you.

Beelzebub feels satisfaction course through him as he turns you around again, coming down to kiss you. You reciprocate, running your fingers through his sweaty hair and pulling it out of his eyes, a delirious giggle leaving you.

“Beel, I think you just rearranged my guts,” you mumble against his lips and Beel hums.

“That’s why you needed energy,” he replies, and you roll your eyes. You gasp when Beel slips inside of your warmth again.

“Beel, what are you…” In a second you’re flipped around, now in Beel’s lap, impaled on his length. “W– wait, I’m not-” you whine at the new position, resting your head on Beel’s shoulder as his hands dig into your hips and he experimentally thrusts up.

“You still have more energy, right?” Beelzebub asks, voice coaxing and sweet as he helps you circle your hips. You close your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip. “You can take more, right?” His drooly tip kisses your sweet spot, throwing all sense out the window as you feel another orgasm on the horizon. Beelzebub kisses your head, pulling you closer.

Big arms wrap around your waist, helping you go up and down, and Beel moans in satisfaction.

“See? Grilled cheese gives you energy.”

thank you for reading!

masterlist | dividers by cafekitsune

#alba writes #obey me beelzebub #gn reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub x you #obey me smut #obey me beelzebub smut #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x mc #obey me beelzebub x mc #obey me fic #obey me drabble #obey me #x reader

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athenamikaelson · 22 days

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Written in the Stars Ch. 13

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson

Word Count- 2.6k

Warnings- Swearing, Karen’s

A/N- This is just a TINY chapter to get something out to you guys. Being in college SUCKS but we must prevail or whatever I guess. Anyway, I’ll get working on an actual canon chapter as soon as I can.

“If I have to bring this plate back to the cooks one more time because it is, quote on quote, “Too cold,” I’m actually going to quit,” I gesture to the plated steak in my hands as I put it on the metal counter for one of the cooks to take. Adrian our resident chef gives me an, “Are you serious” look and I shrug my shoulders at him.

“Hasn’t that been the 2nd time she’s sent it back,” Alastair questions me as he looks over to the blonde Karen across The Grill.

I rub a hand over my face in exhaustion, “Fourth, actually. Twenty bucks say she’s going to ask for the steak on the house,” I raise an eyebrow at my friend who smirks.

“I’ll take that action,” He reaches his hand out and we shake on it.

I hear the ding of a bell behind me and turn to see the chef with the heated-up steak and if I weren’t pissed off as well I’d laugh at the annoyed look on his face. With a thank you, I grab the plate and walk it over to the blonde woman. I place the plate on her table and without a thank you or even an acknowledgement she pokes the steak and then huffs as she throws it back on the plate.

“It’s still cold. I want this taken off my bill,” I fight back an eye roll at her words.

“You didn’t even take a bite, Miss,” I try to reason with her and she dares to roll her eyes at me.

“I didn’t need to, to know that it’s cold. Either refund me or get the manager,” She turns around in her seat and crosses her arms like an actual child.

“Listen lady you can’t just-”

“Good evening,” Matt cuts me off from the start of my rant, “What seems to be the issue here?”

I whip around to look at Matt who shoots me a look and leans down to me, “I got this, don’t need you fighting the customers,” He jokes and I shoot him back a look as I huff and walk back to Alastair who was watching the whole interaction with a smirk.

“You owe me $20,” I hold out my hand and he huffs and pulls out a $20 bill from his black slacks. Even though he’s a bartender, he chooses to wear Versace and other designer brands to work.

“Thank you,” I smile as I pocket the bill and shoot my friend a smile.

We stand together and watch the dumpster fire, that is Matt trying to reason with the Karen.

“So… what are your plans for after work,” Alastair asks me as he looks at his nails.

“Why? Want to hang out,” I question.

“Uh…ya! But first I have to make a quick stop,” He says absentmindedly.

“That’s no problem.”

—

“Why are we at Elena’s house? You guys aren’t friends,” I question Alastair as he gets out of the driver’s side of his Porsche and comes over to open my door.

“We could be…”

I look at my friend suspiciously and then back to the quiet house in front of us and I feel my shoulders instantly tense up.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Alastair stops moving and looks down at me wearily and shyly smiles.

“I’m going to kill you if this is a surprise party,” I threaten him and he grabs me by my shoulders and drags me up to the front door.

“Smile wide, babe.”

—

“Happy Birthday!”

I try to push a smile onto my face as I stare at my friends as they jump out from random corners of the Gilbert living room as I enter.

Caroline, Elena, and Jenna all wear birthday hats and big smiles as they look at me. Ric stands behind Jenna with a small smile on his face and Tyler stands behind Caroline. Damon is currently scowling in the corner and surprisingly my little brother, who got back from camp 2 days ago, and Jeremy are standing next to each other looking like they just got done wrestling.

“Are you surprised,” Caroline exclaims as she runs over to me and pulls me into her embrace. I shoot a look over to Alastair who smirks.

“Sooooo surprised.”

Caroline seems to believe me as her smile gets bigger and Elena moves around her to hug me too.

“Happy late birthday, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Lena.”

Both Jenna and Ric come over to wish me a late happy birthday, and then they lead me to sit down in the living room that is fully decorated with every kind of birthday decoration ever. From streamers, balloons, banners, and anything else sparkly Caroline could get her hands on. I find myself smiling at the fact that this must have taken some time to set up, even though I dislike my birthday and celebrating it, it’s nice to know that I have friends who would do this for me.

“Happy birthday Y/n,” Jeremy says to me as he and my brother start arm wrestling.

“I called her on her actual birthday and said happy birthday to her so,” Theo said absentmindedly as he focused on beating his friend.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” I shoot a glare at my little brother who smirks back.

“Damon aren’t you going to say something,” Elena questions the brooding vampire who raises an eyebrow as he downs the rest of his wine.

“You’re forgetting up until yesterday she lived with me. I already celebrated her birthday before you children,” I tense up slightly as I shoot a look over to Theo who looks confused at the mention of me living with Damon.

“Ya! He did! Since I spent the summer at the Salvatore house for my tiny vacation and all,” I try to cover it up and Theo has an unsure look on his face but Jeremy starts tugging back on his arm and they go back to arm wrestling one another. Since Theo doesn’t know about anything that has happened this summer I don’t really want to drop that bomb now or anytime soon, to be honest.

—

For the next hour, we all eat snacks prepared by Jenna and Elena, and then watch Theo and Jeremy challenge each other in anything they could possibly challenge one another with and I had to stand awkwardly as everyone sang happy birthday to me. Now I’m seated in a rocking chair in the living room with everyone watching me as I open up presents. I can practically feel my hands shaking as I feel everyone’s attention on me.

The first thing I open is a small card with a cute cat on the front, inside is a slip of paper that reads, “One free assignment,” I frown in confusion but when I look up Ric is shyly smiling at me.

“I didn’t really know what to give you, I’m kind of horrible with gift giving but I thought with how hectic everything is, and with Senior year coming up, you could use that to skip out on any assignment this year I give you.”

I nod and smile at him gratefully, “Thank you, Ric, that is really nice. I’ll definitely be using that,” I whisper out the last part.

“Open mine next,” Caroline exclaims as she hands me a big garment box with a big pink bow on it. I shoot her a raised eyebrow and she just rolls her eyes, “Open it hoe!’’

I sigh and undo the pretty bow, pick up the top of the white box, and look inside to find a beautiful silk blue dress. I grab the dress and hold it up, the light satiny fabric feels like heaven in my fingers. What has me blushing though, is the rather deep neckline.

“Caroline…”

“What! You’ll look beautiful in it! It goes with your complexion!”

I look back at the dress and as much as I want to give her back, the clearly expensive dress, a bigger part of me doesn’t want to part with it.

“Thank you Care, it’s beautiful.”

Caroline smiles to herself proudly and saunters back to stand next to Tyler who makes me frown as I watch him reach into his pocket pull out a 100-dollar bill and hand it to me.

“Tyler I’m not accepting that,” I scowl at him and he places it on the table in front of me.

“Either you take it right now or I’ll just come to your work tomorrow and tip you it,” He smirks and taps the bill, “Happy Birthday!”

I groan as Jenna rushes over to me and hands me a little gift box, I smile up at her as she looks like a child on Christmas, “You didn’t have to Jenna.”

“You shush you! Open it,” She excitedly says as she gestures to the box in my hands.

I smile and shake my head as I open the box to find a small silver bracelet with a Y/B/S gem in the center. My mouth goes slack as I look at the beautiful piece of jewelry.

“Jenna, it’s beautiful,” I say and she quickly takes it from me and unclasps the latch so she can put it on me.

“I saw it and thought of you,” At the older woman’s words I have to swallow the lump in my throat and fight back the tears in my eyes. Choosing to focus on the cold metal that is now gracing my left wrist.

“Thank you. I love it.”

“I guess that leaves me.”

I look up to see my best friend pull a big dark blue birthday bag out from behind the couch she was sitting on. The size of it takes me by surprise.

“Elena…”

“Shush,” She says as she places the huge bag in my lap. I have to reach my hand in without looking to grab whatever is in it. My fingers instantly touch what I believe to be leather. I pull the thing out, push the blue bag away, and place it on the floor. When I look back at the leather thing in my lap I realize it’s a messenger bag. A rather expensive messenger bag by the look of the dark brown leather and the silver clasps.

“It even has your initials,” Elena says shyly as she points to the engraving on the corner of the bag. My smile slightly drops when I see, Y/f/n Y/m/n Y/l/n. Mostly because of the last name part.

“You don’t like it… I knew it was too much. I should’ve gotten you the books I picked out,” Elena mumbles to herself and I’m quick to stop her.

“No! No, I love it. Truly Elena, thank you so much. I’m going to use it for school,” I smile up to her and I’m happy to see the dimples making their way back onto my friend's face as she smiles back at me.

“Thank you all so much. This is really too much and I can’t thank you enough.”

They all say things like how I deserve it or don’t worry about it and such. Except Damon who hasn’t moved from his spot.

“Wait,” Caroline whips around to Alastair, “What did you get her?”

Alastair smirks and then glances at the clothes I’m wearing, “Theo let me into her room earlier. I dropped my presents off there.”

I scowl at my little brother who is fighting back a laugh.

“The bag is also from me,” Jeremy says and Elena shoves him and tells him to shut it.

—

The night goes on with playing games and talking until one by one everyone files out of the Gilbert house. I make sure to thank Elena, Jenna, and Ric for everything as Alastair leads me outside to his car. Theo opted out of the ride home and decided to spend the night and play video games with Jeremy since they hadn’t gotten to all summer.

After waving goodbye, Alastair pulls out of the driveway and starts driving me home.

“So what is it,” I ask him as I play with the bracelet on my wrist.

“What is what,” He asks but from his tone I know he’s messing with me.

“Don’t be a dick. You know what. My present from you. What is it?”

Alastair smirks to himself and just shrugs as he continues winding down the dark streets. It’s not long before we’re pulling up to my dark unlit house. Making me assume my mother’s not home. Thankfully. She hasn’t been around at all these past two days since I moved back. I didn’t even want to but with Theo moving back I didn’t want him asking too many questions on why I wasn’t living at home anymore.

Alastair gets out of the car walks over to my side opens my door and helps me out. We grab all the bags with my presents and then we walk to the front door.

“Thanks for tonight…I guess. It wasn’t that horrible.”

Alastair smirks at my comment and squeezes my upper arm, “Happy late birthday babe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I open my front door and hear Alastair walk to his car. I haven’t even fully shut my door before I hear him peeling out of my driveway.

I sigh to myself as I turn on my hallway light and try to carry my bags to my room. I kick open my door and stop when I see the horde of shopping bags that are sitting on my bed. Various designer brands sit on my bed and I can’t fight the way my jaw completely drops as I rummage through just a fraction of some of them. There has to be at least 10,000 dollars worth of designer purses, shoes, and clothes here.

If Alastair can afford this then why the actual fuck is he working a entry-level bartending job?!?!?

I’m about to pull out my phone and bitch my friend out when I hear my doorbell ring.

“Alastair if that’s you, you have a lot of explaining to do,” I yell as I walk down the hall and fling open the front door and yet I’m met with nothing.

I’m about to close my door because this reminds me of every horror movie ever but when I look down a small box catches my eye. I peek out my door careful not the pass the threshold but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. I cautiously lean down pick up the small black box and look at the tiny tag on the top. The only thing written on it is my name which pulls a frown on my lips.

I quickly grab the box, shut the door, lock it, and slightly run to my room. As soon as I get to my room I eye the box in my hands momentarily before slowly opening it as if inside there was a bomb or some shit. I freeze when I see what’s inside though. A wolf.

A small wolf pendant on a silver chain sits in the box. As creepy as this whole thing is I have to admit, the necklace is beautiful. The little wolf appears to be mid-howl and at closer inspection the eye of the wolf I think is some kind of gem. My fingers caress the wolf debating on what to do and after a moment I throw it onto my desk.

I turn around to go organize the mess that is all these bags, but I feel an itch in my spine and I groan as I turn back to the necklace and roughly pick it up unclasp the chain, and put it on around my neck. As soon as I do a sense of familiarity and comfort almost seems to wash over me. I walk over to my bathroom mirror and look at the wolf in the mirror. And for a split second, I could’ve sworn its gemmed eye glowed.

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