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wheresarizona · 20 days

Text

but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist - One Shot

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Masterlist - One Shot

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hookingminor · 2 months

Text

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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yuwuta · 27 days

Text

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?”

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you.

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him.

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.”

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever.

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.”

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension.

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure.

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work.

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.”

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.”

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.”

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?”

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses.

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft.

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.”

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.”

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.”

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint.

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch.

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you.

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek.

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.”

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.”

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.”

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.”

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.”

“And park it where?”

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here.

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.”

“Yours will be towed by then.”

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.”

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.”

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?”

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea.

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat.

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—”

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?”

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.”

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!”

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people.

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights.

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.”

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice.

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room.

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be.

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chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

Text

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion x f! reader #astarion x f!tav #pregnancy #astarion acunin

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ballroamblitz · 9 months

Text

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed.

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically.

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me!

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along.

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair.

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings!

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing.

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie?

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation.

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath.

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya.

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom.

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind.

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N.

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession.

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered, messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like?

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do.

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest.

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face.

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share.

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things.

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most. Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned.

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon.

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach - Ate too much pudding?

- Yeah, probably.

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils.

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly.

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly.

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone.

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental...

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater.

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James.

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right?

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy.

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i?

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that.

James felt his face getting warm and red.

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question?

- Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love.

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought.

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken.

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions.

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces.

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder.

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me.

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically.

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. - Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms.

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago.

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week!

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself?

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge.

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry.

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared.

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me?

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could.

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher.

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her..

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather.

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his.

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love. Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #amortentia #the marauders x reader #the marauders era #the marauders #fluff #harry potter imagine

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privitivium · 2 months

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Lactation with both motherly and fatherly yanderes pleaseee 🥺?

(What's your favourite milk flavour? Mines chocolate and sometimes strawberry)

sure. i liek... whole milk. By itself - no additional flavors.... occasionally i fw chocolate milk... edited;; my mistakes!

motherly + fatherly yan x amab reader, seperately

cw;; male lactation... disturbing content if lactation isnt ur thing!!! nipple play. :3

mother... stay at home while you work. coming home to suckle on his tits after a "stressful" day of being nagged and harassed by fatherly. would be all up in that bro!! like... his soft chest... proudly on display when you come home... mindlessly fiddling with the newspapers and looking for a five-letter word for firefighter when you come up from behind... turning him around, nuzzling into him wordlessly before groping his body while suckling on his leaky bud... you wanna say you have an effect on it? complaining - heaving out his moniker of "mom... mmfgh.. ma..." while tonguing so dutifully around his areola just to tease him. he doesn't mind... merely laying - sitting on the couch with you in his lap and face buried in his tits -

moaning and groaning at how "good" he tastes. he thinks he has the upperhand between him and his... rival of sorts. i mean, who's the one you come home to go sleep with afterall?? him. him him him... he's the one you bury your face into, so affectionately and mumbling "mom.. momma.." under your breath as you fiddle with his pecs - watching as the liquid warmth spurts as you experimentally and gently pinch at his nipple... mother whining softly, but so eager for you to mess with his body - tearfully cooing at you, nipples sore and sensitive - yr warm mouth would be the perfect cure!

father... type of dude to take some kind of meds or some kind of installment just to have milky tits in the first place!!! gets disappointed when it doesnt immediately start "leaking" in the first week and gets embarrassed when it's showing through his extravagant button-up shirt - and in front of you no less - with his fucking blazer off?!?!! it was plain to see the spots. obviously you take advantage of the fact... taking some kinda meds or something just to lactate, an impulsive action... thoughts getting to him that you like mother more than him, so... why not try and... i dont know, act motherly... he didnt anticipate it actually happening in his fucking workplace.

shoving him against the wall or merely at his desk - sitting inbetween his legs and suckling at his tit like a man starved.. uncaring of his little whimpers and whines at how theyre so sore but your warm tongue feels so good circling around his areola and ah- the way your teeth ever so slightly grace his leaky bud... please, j-just.. his hand curling around the back of your head, you were so cute ... yr eyes closed and looking content yet focused... eyebrows furrowed as you indulged yrself in the liquid warmth his tits provided you. an easy quick drink instead of punching the fucking vending machine for a water or soda - you must admit, fatherly yans tits did have quite the taste...

motherly w sub reader. all im thinking about is him shoving his tit in readers mouth like in that one fic i mentioned... long ago....... is sure to comfort you and coo at you if you feel embarrassed doing so!!! liek.. "uhh... it's just..." gesturing to his leaky nipples with a weirded out expression as if to say really? lactation?! And you want me to drink it... ㅡ and mother was careful to to place a small plastic cup to catch the leak... and... offering said cup to you wordlessly - donning a warning glare and a polite smile. uhh.. sure... trying not to gag as you nervously sip the drink and finding it to be ... tasty. a bit gross.. warm. you've never really drank warm milk but - you find yourself hesitantly placing your lips over his nipple and trying so hard to ignore his soft huff of ... contentment? you didnt want to say pleasure. "my... sweet boy." murmuring praises as he runs his hand over your head, playing with your ear and subtly pushing your face to bury in his tit - butterflies swarming his tummy as you subconsciously swirl your tongue - trying to lap it up. ugh.

#motherly yan!#fatherly yan...#x male reader #male reader #top male reader #x top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader #yandere x male reader #also could work w sub reader #so #yandere m x m reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere male x reader

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lovelettersfromluna · 10 months

Text

˚ ༘⋆｡˚❀ Blossom ❀˚｡⋆ ༘˚

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: Ellie broke up with you in high school right before she left for college. At the time, it left you devastated….five years later, she’s back. And she’s back for you.

an: hi my angels! I KNOW I KNOW I HEAR YOU ALL YELLING AT ME I’m sorry this took so long. This isn’t exactly what any of you asked for, but it’s an idea Ive had for a while. Once I started it I seriously could not stop until I was finished. Yes this is a cliff hanger, and yes I’m planning a part 2. I have a bunch other things coming up as well! I hope you’re all doing well, and I thank you so so much for the patience you all have with me. I really hope you guys like this one, enjoy my loves 🖤🖤

Warnings: 18+!! Smut!! Angst!! (Is it a fic of mine if there isn’t angst at this point), small town!Ellie, it’s summer time ofc hehe, fingering (r!receiving), nipple play (r!receiving), petnames, Ellie hurt reader in the past but is extremely desperate for her now, lots of kissing, let me know if I missed anything pleaseee. (Not proofread)

You can read part 2 here!

“But…can’t we just…can you just rethink this Ellie? You always said we would be-“ Ellie was quick to cut you off as she shoved the remainder of your things into a box, her eyes never once turning in your direction as you sat on her bed, eyes staring up at her as you practically begged her to just take a moment and think about this.

“I’ve already made up my mind. I don’t want to have to worry about you while I’m away, this is what’s best” her words are cold, and stern and it almost doesn’t even sound like her, like your girlfriend isn’t even living inside the person who is currently rummaging through her closet to look for the random things you’d left throughout the years.

And you aren’t even sure what to say. Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks as you silently cry, sitting on Ellie’s bed as you plead with her to just….fucking listen to you.

The soft sniffle you let out is what finally has her looking in your direction, and she sighs. You look so small, so defeated, and she knows she’s being rough with you right now. For some reason, she doesn’t seem to care.

She puts her hand on her hip, standing near her closet for a moment before she reaches down and grabs the box, setting it on her desk. She walks over to you, standing over you as you stare down at your hands, silently crying on her bed.

“Come on…it’s late and I need to start packing…” She mumbles out, you can’t help but look up at her in disbelief. You had never seen her be this cold towards you, she was always warm and welcoming. This new side of her made you feel sick.

You know there isn’t any use in sitting there and begging her, and you decided you’d save any pride that you had left, and stop yourself from further embarrassment. You stand up, roughly wiping away your tears as you make your way towards her door. When you turn around, opening your mouth to say one last thing to her, she shoves the box into your arms and slams the door in your face.

That was five years ago.

Sometimes if you think about it hard enough, you can still think about those feelings you felt that night. Eighteen years old, heartbroken, confused, sobbing into your pillow as you begged the invisible force that was the universe to explain to you why this happened to you, and what you could have done to change the unforgiving course that your relationship with Ellie took.

And it wasn’t to say that it was sudden, or that you didn’t suspect it, you did. Your break up with Ellie was something that was bound to happen, and you both knew that, it was just her demeanor that made it seemed as though she never cared for you that came as a surprise.

Ever since the final months of your senior year together, your relationship had been estranged. Ellie had been so distant, so focused on college, but so where you. You were both extremely involved with your academic life, with your writing career being so important to you, and Ellie wanting to desperately get out of the small town you both lived in, your lives had been set in stone from the moment you both got your acceptance letters from your colleges.

The thing is, they were nowhere near each other. And you knew that it would be hard to keep a relationship with Ellie. However, you expected things to go differently, to keep in touch with the girl that had grown to be your favorite person in the entire world from the moment she took you under her wing on the first day of ninth grade.

But that isn’t what happened at all. Ellie threw you away, shoving a box of your things into your arms and sending you home without even a simple goodbye before she was getting on a plane to go to Europe for college.

As time went on, you understood why she did what she did, you just wished she’d done it differently.

And maybe you never truly got over the girl that you had fallen in love with when you were so young. Regardless of if it was puppy love or not, it was love, and your youth would never be able to take away from that.

You never truly forgave Ellie either. You got over it, and you one day woke up and figured there was no use in dwelling on something that had already happened, and that you could not change, especially since you were in college as well. You quite literally had the life you dreamed of, and worked for since you were a little girl and you weren’t taking advantage of it because of a girl that broke your heart, and no longer cared about you.

Because you knew Ellie, and you knew that she would be living her life, doing all the things she wanted to do, traveling the world and enjoying herself without anything holding her back.

So that’s what you did, you lived your life. Because no matter how upset you were, no one had the right to rob you of that.

You enjoyed the rest of your time at college, making life long friends and memories, enjoying the life of a young person living in a big city, studying your most loved subjects, even finding a cute girl every once in a while to fill the void that was your love life.

But you did it all with the girl who broke your heart in mind, the wild fire that once burned inside of you and forced countless tears from your eyes succumbing to a few pieces of burnt wood, still glowing from the previous flames that engulfed them.

Calm, but still there.

After college, you took on a few jobs and internships that would benefit your writing career, getting you in touch with good people that would point you in the write direction. You were praised for being a young writer with such a knack for writing, and before you knew it, you had an agent and a publicist who were eager to get your work on the shelves.

The city was loud, and bustling. And while it was amazing for you to party until the sun came up, and to make out with strangers outside of a bar, it wasn’t the best for writing. It was too loud, and you found that your constant state of writers block came from the overwhelming sense of stimulation that came from the city and the people in it.

It’s how you found yourself coming back to your home town during the summer, purchasing a small house in a quiet neighborhood near your parents old house. It’s small, and quiet, and has the prettiest garden with the prettiest flowers. You feel the creativity flowing through your veins the minute you sit down on the couch near your window, the calm breeze blowing through your hair.

And regardless of the fact that it’s your first time home since you left for college, and the sleepy town you grew up in holds so much hurt and pain from your younger years, you’re writing, and you’re happy.

And there’s no harm in making new memories to replace the bad ones.

It’s a normal day for you, the summer breeze is warm and inviting, and you find that these days are the best to take advantage of. The weather is nice, and warm enough that you’re able to lay out and write to your hearts content, but not hot to the point of feeling as though your brain is melting inside of your skull. You find yourself at the park near your house, laid out on a white sheet you brought from home. You chose a spot near the lake under a shady tree.

You were so confident in your newest work, finding yourself smiling like an idiot every time you felt you were typing too fast for your fingers to keep up with your thoughts. You liked it that way, getting so lost in your own little world, making it so easy to avoid the outside world that was around you.

So lost, that you didn’t even hear the low chuckle behind you.

You had to blink a few times, seemingly breaking yourself out of your trance. Your eyes had to adjust a bit to the warm glow of the afternoon instead of the bright morning sun that you remembered looking at when you first got to the park. Your eyes widened a bit when you checked the time, realizing how much time had past. You had spent the entire day writing.

“Writin’ again huh? You gettin’ close to the end?” Joel rasped out.

Joel had always loved you. From the moment Ellie brought you home, he was just as enamored with you as she was. He was used to his daughter bringing home friends all the time, always mixing up the old names with the new ones and opting to give them a polite greeting before she was dragging them up to her bedroom, Ellie always had a thing for picking up strays, he’d tell her.

But you, you were different. He saw the way Ellie’s eyes twinkled when she talked about you, the way her freckled cheeks would burn red every time he mentioned you, and whether or not Ellie wanted to invite you over for dinner. You made his daughter happy, and he loved you for that.

He wasn’t the happiest when he realized Ellie had ended things. Once the smiles that came with the mention of your name turned into aggravated huffs and eager attempts at trying to brush it off, he figured things didn’t end well.

That, and the fact that he spotted you leaving Ellie’s bedroom with a box filled with your things and tears streaming down your cheeks.

He told Ellie that night, that girls like you were hard to find. And that he hoped she at least had the decency to let you down easy, because that’s how he had raised her.

At least he hoped.

The hardest part about coming back home after so long, was that you’d feel lonely. Your parents had sold their house and decided to travel after you left, and while you were extremely happy for them, you couldn’t help but feel empty with a lack of parental guidance and warmth close by.

Joel made sure you were never without it.

When he saw the little house with the cute garden that you always talked about when you were younger had been sold, he figured you were coming back. He made sure to call you before you arrived, the man always keeping your number in his phone, regardless of the fact that his daughter had begged him time and time again to delete it.

Joel was at your door the week you moved in, pulling you into a big bear hug. The smell of his cologne and fresh cut grass almost had you in tears, because it made you remember just how much you missed home, how much you missed him…

How much you missed Ellie.

So, ever since you were back home, Joel never really went a day without seeing you. He’d take you into town to run some errands, you’d drop off some dinner to him once in a while, making sure he was eating and healthy. You’d even made it a tradition to have coffee once a week together.

Joel was lonely, you saw it in his eyes. He missed his daughter dearly and he didn’t seem to handle being an empty nester as well as your parents did. Ellie had done an amazing job at avoiding her home town as much as possible, never visiting for more than a weekend.

Joel needed a kid to look after, and you needed a parent to look after you.

You giggled softly as you closed your laptop and put it in your messenger bag. Joel was already close by, his calloused hand reaching out for yours and helping you onto your feet. You brushed your hand down your dress, getting any wrinkles out before you let out a sigh, shaking your head.

“Unfortunately not. This one’s gonna be a long one…it’ll be worth it though” you nod to yourself as you grab your sheet from the ground. Joel is already on the other side as he helps you fold it up, causing you to smile softly. “What has you out here today? Going into town?”

Joel nods in agreement, “always is kiddo. Always said you were gonna be a big author someday” he gives you a genuine smile, making his eyes crinkle until they were almost gone. He’s so proud of you, he always has been and it’s nearly enough to make your heart melt.

You smile softly as you adjust your bag on your shoulder after you put your sheet inside of it. You and Joel begin walking away from the lake and towards the side walk, and you can already see his pick up truck parked under a shady tree.

“Comin out of town actually, was in need of some groceries” He groans out, causing you to laugh softly. Joel hates grocery shopping, says he gets too distracted and never knows what he’s out of or doesn’t need.

But there’s something else there, his tone is different and you can’t help but feel like there’s something else on his mind. Something bothering him.

You bend your head down a bit, trying to get a better look at the older man’s face before you give him a small hum. “You okay Joel? Something on your mind?” You question softly. You assume he’s just missing his daughter, and you know he’d never come to you to vent about it since he knows how you feel about her.

He lets out a sigh, like he’d been holding it in from the moment he woke up, and it’s all you need to confirm that there is in fact something bothering him.

You’re both standing in front of his car at this point, the summer breeze getting cooler against your skin now that the sun has set. Joel turns towards you so that he’s facing you, and the look on his face has you worried.

He lets out another sigh, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion and concern as you stare up at him. “Listen kid..I uh…I can’t lie to you…wouldn’t sit right on my conscience and all…” he lets out, and you’re already scared of what he’ll say next.

“I didn’t…didn’t mean to say, really I didn’t I…it just slipped is all, when I was on the phone with her and..” he sighs softly, pausing for a moment before he starts again.

“Ellie’s coming home..” he dead pans.

And before you can even fully comprehend what he’s saying, you’re eighteen years old again, crying on your bed, begging for an answer, blaming yourself for not being enough. You can’t even fully understand that he basically just said she’s coming back because he mentioned that you’re back, because you suddenly feel like you can’t breath. Any and all progress you had made on yourself, and getting over what she did to you is set back. It’s like you didn’t make any at all to begin with, and your heart is breaking all over again.

Joel must sense that you aren’t okay, because he frowns as he waits for you to say something. He reaches out, pressing his hand against your shoulder. “Kiddo? You with me?” He asks softly, and his rough voice is the only thing that is bringing you back to earth.

You blink your eyes a few times, finally looking into his eyes rather than right through him. His expression breaks your heart, because you know he’s blaming himself for this, and he’s blaming himself for hurting you when that isn’t at all the case.

You give him a sad, small before you nod. “I’m with you Joel…” you mumble softly before you let out a sigh, paired with a half shrug.

“Things with me and Ellie…it happened, and it happened a long time ago and I can’t stop her from coming back, or you from seeing your daughter…I’m okay Joel. I promise” you nod, trying to assure the man that despite the fact that you quite literally just short circuited for a minute, that you are okay.

But he doesn’t buy it. His expression is still worried and concerned as he looks down at you. “C’mon kid…you can talk to me..just because she’s my-“ you giggle softly as you ball up your fist, punching his arm playfully to stop him before you shake your head.

“Im good Joel…it’s been long enough that…it doesn’t bother me anymore” you sigh out, trying to convince not only him but yourself.

You inhale deeply, the breeze forcing leaves to dance around both your feet before you nod towards the direction of your house. “M’gonna head home…enjoy your time with her, okay?” Your words are genuine, because you know how much he needs this, how much he needs her.

He opens his mouth to say something, to explain that although he’s looking forward to his daughter returning, he knows that it isn’t him that she’s returning for. He wants to explain that this visit has been entirely motivated by you.

But he doesn’t, he simply gives you a gentle smile as he nods. “You sure you don’t need a ride home kid?” He calls out as you’re already turning around, making your way down the familiar path that leads to your house.

You smile as you shake your head, turning around a bit as you call out to him. “The walk is good! You gotta get her room ready for her anyways. Night Joel!” You call out, cutting the conversation down completely.

Because you know you can’t do it anymore. You have to create a game plan for yourself to avoid Ellie for the next however many days she’ll be in town. You need to be alone, and in your own space so that you’re able to properly digest the news that you’d just received.

Your ex girlfriend was coming back home. The ex girlfriend that had ripped your heart out and shred it into a million tiny little pieces, that you hadn’t heard from for the last five years, who you were sure you’d go the rest of your life without seeing, was coming back to the small town that you were both from, where it all started.

You were so fucked.

Joel never have you a specific date on when his daughter was coming home, but you figured she was back once Joel’s daily texts and visits had become more sparse.

His silence was your sign to make yourself a scarce as possible. You made sure to only go out for necessities late at night, right before the shops in town closed, or extremely early before anyone in their right mind would be out.

And other than that, you’d stay home. You utilized your backyard for any sunlight you needed to get, and you were practically glued to your favorite couch near the window for a light breeze when wanting to write.

Although you were coming down with a slight case of cabin fever, you were safe from any awkward interactions, and that was fine by you.

You had spent the day cleaning, needing a bit of a reset for the new week coming in. You opened up all the windows, letting in a light breeze and airing out your house as you played music and made your way around your home, washing your sheets and folding laundry. It was therapeutic to you in a way, being able to rest later in the day in a clean home.

And that’s what you were doing now, you were showered and changed into your favorite pair of pajamas, a pair of cotton shorts with little stars on them and a tank top. You were sitting on your wooden floor in your living room, your brows furrowed as you slowly dragged the nail polish brush over one of your toes, trying to find something to do to kill the time before you had to hop into bed.

The windows were still open, a soft breeze blowing in as you hummed a random melody to yourself, your chin pressed against your knee to stabilize yourself as you painted your toes. In that moment you were so content, your head so empty of any racing thoughts that you weren’t even concerned about Ellie, or that fact that she was currently in the same town as you. It didn’t matter to you anymore.

Until you heard a firm knock at your door.

You frowned softly as you looked up at the clock on your wall, and then out one of your windows. It was already far too late for visitors, and you weren’t expecting any anyways. You sighed softly as you blew cool air gently onto your drying toes before carefully getting up, and tip toeing over to your door.

You figured it was your next door neighbor, the old woman becoming somewhat of a friend to you since you had moved in. She often came over needing help to video chat her grand kids, or to drop off some extra pastries she’d made. It worried you a bit that she’d be coming over so late in the night, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you prepared yourself to warn the old woman about the dangers of walking around so late at night, even if it was right next door.

But it wasn’t your sweet next door neighbor. It was Ellie.

You audibly gasp, your eyes going wide as you stare up at her, because you realize in that moment just how long it’s been since you’ve seen her face, and not imagined it.

She’s much taller now, her face is no longer round and youthful, but instead sharper. Her hair is much shorter, the spiky ends laying flat against the nape of her neck. You figure she cut it herself because of that. She’s still sporting the same side part, her brown fringe laying across her forehead and nearly spilling out onto her pretty green eyes.

Her eyes, they’re the same but so much different. They’re still the same shade of emerald you used to love so much, but they seem to be missing something. A certain sparkle that had been there the last few times you saw there isn’t there anymore, and it makes you want to reach out and grab her.

Your hand is gripping your door so hard, you’re sure it was enough to pull the hinges off. You’re at a loss for words, because your ex girlfriend is standing in front of you, and she’s taller, and her features are sharper, and she’s exuding something that she didn’t before all while lacking something that she used to have and….

And you can’t fucking breath.

Just like her father, she can see what’s going on inside your head. She’s chewing at her lip anxiously, because she isn’t sure how much time has passed, but enough has passed that she’s worried about you, and she’s worried about the fact that you haven’t said a single thing.

Ellie steps forward, trying to close the space between the two of you. It doesn’t close, because you back away the second you see her moving. It’s like you’re scared of her, afraid of uttering a single word to the girl in fear that it’ll only create more sorrowful memories that you’ll have to bury with the rest.

You know that if you don’t speak, she won’t leave.

“Ellie?” You breath out, as if you’d been holding it in from the moment you saw her. Ellie realizes how long it’s been since she’s heard you say her name, and now she can’t breath. Your voice hasn’t changed much, and the memories she had of you were becoming more and more blurry with each passing day. Distant echos if your voice calling her name becoming harder to decipher, unable to even tell if it was yours anymore.

But it all comes flooding back when you say it. Memories of you laying your head in her lap, or whispering sweet words in her ear. It’s all coming back in the blink of an eye and she almost can’t handle it.

She breaths out your name as well, and it’s almost like a sigh of relief. Relieved that you remember her, and that she’s standing in front of you and seeing you in the flesh, and not in a dream.

Your eyebrows furrow as she stares down at you, and you make no move to let her in further.

“Why are you here?” You mumble softly, voice thick with defense. You have to protect yourself from her, you promised yourself you would the day she broke you, and you have every intention to keep that promise.

Ellie bites her lips gently before she clears her throat. “I um..I just needed a walk…I got in a few nights ago and uh..Joel told me you lived here now, so..” she trails off. You aren’t sure you’d ever seen Ellie be this fucking awkward. Despite the confidence that oozes from her current appearance, she seems small and nervous and it almost makes you laugh.

You don’t laugh.

You furrow your eyebrows further as you eye her before you roll your eyes, already fed up with the girls excuse. “Joel’s house is on the other side of town, Ellie. Don’t play it off as if you were just in the neighborhood..” you huff out. You can’t help but ice her out, because you’ve held animosity towards Ellie for the last five years. No matter how much you wanted to get over it and be the bigger person, you’re still pissed at her.

Ellie blinks her eyes quickly in shock. She isn’t used to this tone coming from you. Her memories of you were always so sweet, and warm. She knew you wouldn’t take shit from anyone, and it was something she always loved about you.

Just not when you wouldn’t take shit from her.

Her large hand comes up to awkwardly scratch the back of her neck. You feel your insides warm up because you catch a glimpse of the large tattoo that’s covering her hand.

Damn her for getting so fucking hot over the years.

“You got me there…didn’t come as a shock though. You always loved this house” she hummed softly as she looked up at the door, and then down at the pretty flowers that decorated your front yard. It was almost like you in house form.

You tug your bottom lip under your teeth as your eyes avert to your toes, silently cursing yourself because you smudged your pinky during all the excitement that came with seeing Ellie again. You aren’t sure if it’s a good thing, or a bad thing that she remembers little things like that about you.

You figure it’s a bad thing.

You inhale deeply, still staring down at your feet. It’s killing Ellie that you won’t even look at her, she can see the prominent little frown on your face even though you’re looking down. That stupid pout was always her weakness. It’s why she refused to look at you when she broke up with you the night before she flew out to Europe.

“I think it’s best you leave, Ellie…” you mumble softly, suddenly feeling small under the girls gaze. She hates it, because she at least got to stare into your pretty eyes when you were scolding her or being mean to her. But when you were like this….it made it feel worse than all of that.

She knew she deserved it. She knew that what you were now, what you had become, was a result of her own actions. She was the one that did this, she was the one that put you in the position to treat her this way, she knew that…

She just hoped it wouldn’t have been this bad.

She doesn’t say anything, and you take that as an answer enough. You’d rather not stand at your front door being stared at by your ex girlfriend, the only sound being that of the crickets in your garden and the rustling of tree branches in the wind. So, you let out a soft sigh and gently begin pushing your door close, because you can’t take it anymore. You can’t continue being close to her because it still hurts, and you hate that it still hurts after all of this time. It makes you feel pathetic and weak, and you don’t want to deal with it anymore.

But Ellie has other plans.

Her reflexes are just as fast as you remember, because her tattooed hand comes up quickly, palm pressed flat against your door to stop you from closing it on her. The sound of it makes your eyes snap up to hers, and a sense of pride spreads through her chest because she’s finally got your eyes back on her.

She inhales deeply, pink tongue poking out of her mouth as she licks her lips. She has to think fast, and she has to find a way to keep you here because she knows she’s losing you.

“Let me take you out” she blurts out, and it makes your eyes go wide. You used to want nothing more than this, than to have Ellie at your front door, asking you out on a date.

But now that it was happening, it made you feel sick.

You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head as you tried pushing the door further against the strength of her palm. “That’s not a good idea, Ellie…just…go home…” you mumble out tiredly. Ellie almost let’s out a whine because you’re slipping through her fingers again and it seems like everything she tries isn’t fucking working.

“Please.” She begs, and her tone makes you stop pushing. You stand there as she stares down at you, eyebrows knitted as she silently begs you to hear her out, to not shut her out like she did many years ago.

“Just…so we can talk about everything…and then I’ll…I’ll leave you alone. I promise” she breaths out. Her words are genuine, and although it’s been a long time, you know Ellie, and you know when she’s telling the truth and when she isn’t. Regardless of the fact that she doesn’t deserve it, you can’t help but stare up into those pools of emerald and give in to her, just like you always did.

You let out a gentle sigh before you give her a nod. “I…fine…meet me in town tomorrow morning. Your dad has my-“ she cuts you off before you can even go any further.

“Has your number, I know.” She chuckles softly, hoping that she’s able to lighten the mood even a little bit. But you don’t budge, your words are stern and your brows are furrowed as you stare up at her, determined to let her know that this is simply one conversation she’ll be having with you, and not a sign of getting back into your life.

You give her a firm nod before you look out into the dark abyss that was your neighborhood. Where you lived was relatively safe, but you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling you had when thinking about the girl walking home by herself so late, and so far.

“Do you need me to call him for you? I’m sure he’d come pick you up…so you don’t have to walk all the way back” you mumble out softly. Her lips tug into a smile as she watches you, her stomach fluttering with those stupid butterflies you never failed to give her, because the mere fact that you’re worried about her getting home is giving her hope that she can reverse all the bullshit she put you through, completely disregarding the fact that it could one hundred percent be you just being a good person.

“Nah, I’ve got it from here. I’m a big girl…you get some rest though. I’ll see you in the morning” she hums out, and you swear for a moment your transported back to Ellie dropping you off at your house after a date. She’d always whisper the sweetest things to you after giving you an even sweet kiss, and all though her appearance had changed since then, she still had the power of making you swoon every time she bid you a good night.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. You quickly closed them in fear of saying something stupid before you gave her a quick nod. “Night, Ellie…” you manage to mumble softly, and she gives you her signature charming smile before she jogs off the steps of your porch, and onto the sidewalk that would leave her home, a noticeable pep in her step as she left.

You watch her at your door until she’s out of view, quickly slamming your door shut and letting out a loud huff, your back pressed against the door as you try to recollect yourself and process everything that had just happened.

You stay for a moment longer before you lock your door, close all of your windows and rush upstairs to get to bed, just like Ellie had told you to.

The next morning was not pleasant.

It was one of those days where you hated every single article of clothing that you owned. Every dress was either too long or too tight, all of your tops were either too big or too small, and every pair of jeans just didn’t go with what you had in mind.

Different articles of clothing covered almost your entire bedroom floor, with no stop in sight as you continued to throw shirts and socks behind you from your closet. You let out a loud huff before you fell backwards onto your bed, your hand holding onto the point at which the towel around your body folded so that it would stay closed.

You had been on your fair share of dates since Ellie. A few when you lived in the city, some while you were back home, all of which were fun and things that you looked forward to, none of which making you feel the way you felt while getting ready for this one.

And calling it a date was a complete stretch. All Ellie asked, was to meet over coffee. More than likely so that she could explain herself and give you the closure she assumed you deserved after five years, so that she’d be able to get any guilt she had for leaving you off of her chest.

But still, you were fucking nervous, and you couldn’t ignore the fact that you wanted to make a good impression. You even grabbed your phone a few times, opening your messages with Joel and typing out a pathetic excuse to him explaining that you had work to do, or you had an errand to run and to tell Ellie you wouldn’t be able to make it.

You didn’t, though. You sucked it up, got your ass of of your bed and took a deep breath in before you went back into your closet, determined to find something decent to wear.

After another thirty minutes of rummaging through your closet, you settled on your favorite pair of blue jeans, a white corset style top that had little lace trimming on the ends, and your favorite pair of sneakers just to be comfy.

The early morning sun beaming down on your exposed shoulders was enough to bring you back to earth, giving you a moment to collect yourself before you saw Ellie again. It was truly all out of a dream, or a nightmare, or a really bizarre situation that you didn’t foresee happening at all for yourself.

Ellie was back, and she made her way to your house to ask you out on a…whatever it was you were currently walking into, and you had no idea what would come of any of this or why you even said yes in the first place.

But one thing you knew to stand true, was that you were still hurt, and you weren’t going to let her off easy.

Once you got into town, you gave a few familiar faces a small wave paired with a sweet smile, one of your hands clutching the strap to your bag as you searched for a small bench to sit on while you waited for Ellie, You settled on one underneath a shady tree.

Ellie feels like her heart stops when she gets out of her dads car and spots you. You’ve always been pretty, Ellie would think about your features and try her best to burn them into her memory after she left because you were always the prettiest girl Ellie had ever seen.

But now…god, now you were ethereal. Your face hadn’t changed much, your hair was a bit shorter and it framed your face a bit more, but you had become a woman. You’d grown up, and you had this overwhelming glow to you that made it hard to look away.

And as you sat there, summer breeze blowing through your pretty hair, the rays of the sun casting down onto your beautiful skin, making it look like you were practically sparkling, in the prettiest little top, you looked like a fucking dream come true. Like every persons fantasy come to life.

And it reminded Ellie of what she chased away, of all that she could have had, but couldn’t since she made her bed and was now forced to lay in it.

She almost wanted to get back into the car and run again, run away from you and the feelings you gave her. She knew this was all a long shot to begin with, and that it wasn’t a guarantee of anything, but knowing that she at least at the opportunity to stare into your eyes for a few moments longer, and create more memories with you that were hers and hers only to keep, it made her weak in the knees, and it made her heart beat faster.

And no matter how long she had with you, it was worth it.

Her feet were carrying her towards you before she could even comprehend that she was doing so, like gravity pulling her closer and closer to her life line. It was like she couldn’t breath properly for five years, a strange weight settling in on her chest every time she was alone and had time to think about things.

One that she no longer felt when she was with you.

Her footsteps crunching against the grass make you look up, and it’s almost enough to make Ellie run. Your eyes are so pretty, and she feels like she can get lost in them for hours at a time.

She misses when your face would light up when you saw her, the way your eyes would sparkle and your plump lips would tug into a shy little smile. Now, all she sees when you look at her is sadness, and pain that she’s caused, and it’s killing her because you don’t trust her anymore, and anyone could see that.

You inhale deeply as you stand up, your hand toying with the strap of your bag as you awkwardly stand in front of her. “Hey…” you mumble softly, and you want to die because you should have said no. You should have told Ellie this wasn’t a good idea and that you didn’t want to see her because you’d rather have not done this just to avoid how fucking awkward the entire ordeal is.

And it hurts to know that this is what you’ve become. The person you regarded as one of your favorites for so long had become a complete stranger. Ellie had lived a life for five years without you in it, and you her, and you feel like there’s no use in even speaking to her anymore because you don’t know her, and she doesn’t know you.

Ellie licks her lips as she watches you, her hands balling up into firsts before she shakes them away, trying to shake away the urge she has to reach out and grab you. That’s the hardest part for her, seeing the girl that she’s wanted for the last five years standing right in front of her, and not being able to grab you and wrap you up in her arms.

She clears her throat, looking around a bit at all of the little shops and stores that are currently opening up. Her hands are stuffed in her pocket as she nods towards them. “Any of these places good?” She questions, and you blink a few times before you nod, pointing towards your favorite coffee shop. She smiles softly when she spots the place, because of course your favorite coffee shop is the most adorable one in town.

Soon, you’re both sitting in a tiny booth tucked away in the corner of the empty coffee shop. Ellie insisted she buy both of your drinks, as much as it bothered you to stand next to her and let her pay for your things, you let her because you didn’t want an argument.

Ellie feels like none of this is even real, because you’re sitting across from her and the sun is hitting your skin in the most beautiful way, and your plump lips are sparkling as they wrap around the straw of your drink, and she’s staring, she knows she’s staring but she can’t help herself. You’re a fucking dream to her, and you always will be.

She blinks a few times before she clears her throat, her large hand cupping her white mug. “So, uh…how have you been?” She questions, her voice nervous and unsure of what exactly to ask you.

You scoff gently, your eyes rolling before you speak up. “Seriously Ellie? How have I been? I don’t see it hear from you for five years and we sit down to talk and that’s what you ask me?” You question in disbelief as you stare at her as if she’s stupid. She groans softly, her strong, veiny hands coming up and rubbing her face harshly before she sighs.

“Fuck. Fuck, I know. I’m nervous, okay? It’s been a long time and…I know this is probably really fucking weird for you but..” she sighs softly, worried that if she keeps going she’ll fuck things up with you even further than she already has. She inhales deeply before exhaling, trying her best to gather her words before she tries again.

“I just…you deserve an apology, a real apology and not some bullshit excuse for one. It’s the least I can do” she pleads genuinely, her eyes searching for any sign of getting through to you.

You sigh softly, your fingers toying with the little raised designs on your glass as you avoid Ellie’s eyes. “Was it at least worth it?” You mumble softly, your voice sad and small.

Ellie feels like she’ll break right then and there.

The guilt she’s felt every day since she left you is no match to what she feels when she hears your words. It’s eating away at her, and it’s making it feel like there a weight sitting on her chest that she can’t get rid of no matter what.

She can’t even find the words to explain to you that none of it was worth it. She sabotaged every relationship she made in college because those girls weren’t you, and she was aggravated with them for not being you and that made things even worse. She missed you every single day, and she wanted nothing more than to come home to you after it all.

Ellie inhales deeply, a deep frown painting her face before she sighs. “I think you and I both know the answer to that…” she mumbles out, because she’s too ashamed to admit to you that it wasn’t at all worth it, and that she was wrong.

You hum softly, giving a slight nod as your finger dances along the rim of your glass. “Joel always wants to brag about how great you’ve done…stops himself so I won’t get sad” you chuckle dryly. Ellie sighs softly, knowing her father all too well, and knowing that he took the chance to brag about her whenever he could.

She opens her mouth to apologize for it, but you cut her off.

“I don’t fault you for what you did Ellie…I thought I did, for a long time..” you breath out, pausing for a moment before you start again, giving her a weak shrug. “I just wished you weren’t…so harsh about it…I don’t mean to make you feel bad but it really fucked me up for a while” you admit, trying your best to convey to her that she hurt you, and that it wasn’t okay.

Ellie licks her lips as she listens to you, eyes never leaving your face regardless of the fact that you refuse to look at her. She adjusts herself a bit so she’s leaning forward, wanting to be as close to you as possible before she speaks. “You have…every right to be upset with me. I thought it was a good idea, and doing it as cold as possible just seemed right for us…we were so attached to each other…I got scared that we wouldn’t make it on our own” she sighs out. She’s rambling at this point, and she can’t stop.

“But fuck, I was so fucking young, we were so fucking young. I was barely eighteen and I was traveling across the world to live on my own and…and I was nervous and scared and I…I just felt like since I was getting the one thing I’d wanted for so long, I didn’t deserve to have you too” her voice is tired, and her throat and mouth is getting dry as she goes on and on and it’s making her voice hoarse, but she can’t stop because this is her one chance to explain everything to you.

You finally look up at her from your glass, a soft pout on your lips as you think back to it all. Ellie never felt like she deserved things. Her supportive father, leaving the town she was born in, you, she felt like those good things weren’t meant to be hers. From the moment you met her, you promised her that she did deserve those things, and that she deserved every good thing the world had to offer.

But Ellie always begged to differ.

You hummed softly, nodding in understanding as you stared into her eyes. “It happened, Ellie. You and I can’t change the past. You have your life in the city, and I have mine here..” you nodded slowly, sighing softly as you look out the window.

“I’m happy you came back, and I’m happy we spoke. Joel misses you a lot you know…you should visit him more often” you smile softly as you watched her before you sighed, reaching into your purse and grabbing a few dollars from it. You count it out quickly before you place it on the table. “Here, this should cover mine..” you nod to yourself before you adjust your bag onto your shoulder and slide out of the bouncy booth seat to leave.

Ellie begins to panic as she watches you get ready to leave, because this is her first time seeing you in five years and there’s no way it’s ending so quickly. She needs more time with you, she needs to look at you longer, she needs to hear more about what you’ve been up to.

“You’re leaving already?” She interrupts, she sounds disappointed. You raise your eyebrows as you look back at her before you give her a slight shrug. “We talked, you explained yourself, I listened. That’s all there is too it, right?” You mumble nonchalantly. She’s already on her feet, grabbing the cash you put on the table and pushing it in your direction.

You giggle softly, pressing your palm against her hand and pushing it towards her body. She feels like she might faint because not only is it the first time she’s hearing your sweet giggle in five years, but your soft hand is touching hers. She can feel herself sweating from the small interaction alone.

“I’m not mad at you anymore Ellie…any guilt you have is gone now…” you nod slowly before giving her a half smile. “Have fun with your dad, okay? It was nice seeing you” you finish, giving her a small wave before turning around and walking towards the door of the coffee shop to leave.

Ellie stands in her spot for a moment, frozen as she stares down at her hand, the one you just touched. She blinks out of her trance and rushes out of the shop, chasing after you as you make your way down the side walk. When she catches up to you, she’s breathing heavily. Your eyes widen as you turn around and catch sight of the talk girl standing in front of you.

“Lemme give you a ride home” she blurts out, causing you to furrow your eyebrows a bit as you watch her. You watch her for a moment, not saying a word, because despite everything, and despite the fact that you gave Ellie a chance to explain herself, you’re still weary of her, and you’d still prefer to keep her out of your life.

But, in typical Ellie fashion, she has other plans.

Knowing she won’t take no for an answer, you eye her for a moment longer before sighing softly and giving her a slight nod. You figure the sun is extremely warm today anyways, and the walk would have you dripping in sweat by the time you made it home anyways.

The drive home reminds you of when you and Ellie were dating.

You loved watching Ellie when she drove. Her strong hand loosely gripping the steering wheel, her other draped over her own thigh (her favorite spot used to be your thigh), tongue poking past her pink lips as she concentrated on the road, her favorite song playing on the radio, wind blowing through her pretty brown hair.

It was extremely fucking hard to not gawk at her the whole way home.

She struggled too. You looked so pretty sitting next to her, her little passenger princess. Ellie loved doing things for you, she loved feeling needed by you. Providing for you was one thing that made her feel like the best possible girlfriend she could ever be to you.

And even now, when you wouldn’t even utter a single syllable to her in the passenger seat of her dads car, she still felt her chest warm up at the fact that she was driving you home.

The car came to a slow stop once she pulled up to your house, parking in the empty drive way as she turned the car off. She hums softly, her hands falling to rest on her spread thighs as she stares at your house.

You clear your throat a bit before your grab your bag off of your lap, pulling the strap onto your shoulder before you open the door for yourself and give her a small smile. “Thanks Ellie…” you breath you. She gives you a slight nod paired with a smile as she watches you.

But you don’t move.

You know you shouldn’t, but you truly can’t stop yourself from speaking the words that are hanging off your tongue. You inhale deeply before you blurt out “do you…wanna come inside? It’s just so hot and I can get you something to drink before you leave-“ Ellie’s eyes go wide as she hears your words, and before you have time to finish, she cuts you off.

“Yes!” She slightly shouts, causing you to flinch. She clears her throat, quickly giving you a nod as she tries to compose herself. “I mean…yeah…yeah sure I’ll come in. M’not doing anything today..” she breaths out almost sheepishly as she watches you with love sick eyes.

You stifle a laugh as you nod, getting out of the car and walking down the little flowered path that leads to your home. Anxiety fills up your chest because Ellie is standing behind you as you open your door for you both, and you can’t properly count how many times you’ve truly imagined this, but it’s finally happening and you’re losing your mind.

When you finally manage to open the door, Ellie almost falls to her knees because your home is every thing she imagined it would be. It’s filled with all the little things that make you, you. She can even spot a few things that you had when you were younger, and it makes her wonder if you have anything from her still.

You lead her to your living room, letting her know that she can make herself at home before you go into the kitchen. You pour her a big glass of peach sweet tea with ice before you bring it back to her.

Her eyes light up when she spots the drink, and instantly takes it. “Shit, you still make this? My dad talks about it all the time” she rushes out before she takes a large gulp, the girl almost finishing half the glass. You giggle softly as you watch her, humming as you give her a gentle shrug. “It’s a good recipe..can’t let those go, you know?”

Your words can be applied to something else, you both know it.

She sighs softly as she sets the glass down. You raise your eyebrows when you see some of the drink running down her chin. “You’ve got a little…just…uh” you mumble softly as you bend down a bit, bringing your thumb to her chin and swiping it off.

It’s your first time being this close to her, and she feels like the world has stopped right then and there.

Her big green eyes are staring down at you as you wipe the tea off her face, and she clears her throat to hold back any groaning that she’ll do since you’re this close. The noise is what snaps you out of it, and you quickly move away from her, mumbling a quick apology.

Ellie blinks a few times, her cheeks red as she tries to compose herself for a moment. She inhales deeply, opening her mouth to apologize herself before you speak up. “I’ll just…take the glass so you can be on your way..” you mumble softly, reaching down and trying to take the glass.

A loud clap of thunder makes you flinch, a small gasp leaving your lips as you look outside. The heat from earlier has brought in a thick blanket of dark grey clouds that have covered the entire sky. Lightning flashes across the sky before another clap of thunder rumbles through your home, causing Ellie to groan as she stands up.

“Fuck…that one’s gonna be bad…I better get going before it-“ she’s cut off by the harsh sound of the sudden rain fall slamming onto the ground outside, causing her to sigh loudly.

The rain is hard, and heavy, and extremely unforgiving. You’re both staring outside your window as you watch the storm force everything outside to go blurry with the white cast that the heavy water droplets bring.

“You’re not driving in that” you say sternly, quickly moving towards your windows and making sure they’re all shut so that nothing will get wet. Ellie raises her eyebrows as she watches you, knowing all too well that she’d want nothing more than to stay, and the fact that you’re insisting makes her heart flutter with joy.

“It’s not that bad…I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything..” she mumbles softly as she walks towards your other window to make sure they’re closed as well. You watch her from the corner of your eye before you quickly shake your head. “And I wouldn’t want you getting in a car accident. You can leave once it lets up a bit” you nod to yourself, not giving the girl any room for argument.

Ellie bites back a smile as she nods, trying not to get too ahead of herself.

The storm lasts longer than expected.

What usually is a short summer shower turned out to be a full blown storm that lasted well past sundown. You and Ellie got past the awkward silence that came with her staying over longer much quicker than expected.

You were both sitting on the floor of your living room, Monopoly splayed out between the both of you as you cheated Ellie of her money for the third time that game. Ellie groaned loudly, counting out the few rainbow colored bills before she threw them onto the floor.

“You fucking got me again. I’m broke, I can’t afford anymore property” she grumbles out. You giggle softly, repositioning your countless cards and bills as you shrug. “Shouldn’t have let me be banker then” you hum softly. Ellie smirks softly as her eyes watch you, her heart swelling with how fucking domestic this all felt.

She’d let you rip her heart out of her body if you wanted. Whatever you wanted, she’d give it to you.

You rested your chin on your knee as you stared at the board for a moment before looking over at her. “You always sucked at this game” your words are soft as you think back to the countless nights you’d stay up together playing cheesy board games together. You loved seeing her brows furrow in frustration every time you miraculously beat her once again, adding to your winning streak.

She smiled softly as she nodded, her eyes never leaving yours as she hummed. “You’re just too fucking good” she chuckles softly. Her words make your insides twist with delight, and you know you can’t look at her. Because she’s most definitely doing that stupid smirk that makes you burn from the inside out, and it makes you want to leap over this stupid board game and tackle her stupidly pretty face.

She notices your lack of a response, she takes it as an opportunity.

“I really miss you, blossom..” the nickname is one you haven’t heard in years. It was Ellie’s, and Ellie’s only. She came up with it soon after she had first met you, said it’s cause you reminded her of the prettiest spring flower she’d ever seen.

It makes you pause, stopping dead in your tracks as you began packing away the board game. Ellie knows she’s done it now, but she keeps going.

“And I know I don’t deserve it, but if you can just-“ your words cut off hers, because her voice is pleading and it almost sounds like she’s fucking begging you to hear her out.

“Ellie.” You warn her. She inhales deeply, pushing the board aside to move closer towards you. Her movements are slow, because she wants to give you the opportunity to stop her if you need to.

“Please…just…” she sighs out, her voice thick with a need for you as she places her long, veiny fingers under your chin, tilting it up slightly to force you to look into her eyes. When you do, you feel the air is knocked out of your chest. Her gaze is heavy and intense and she’s so fucking close. Her other hand comes down, pushing your knees apart so that she can make her way between the space of your legs.

“I know I haven’t been around, and I know what I did was wrong but just….please give me a chance to fix it…just one…I promise I won’t fuck this up..” she breaths out. She’s so close that you can feel her breath wafting against your lips. It makes you whine softly, and it makes her feel like she can’t fucking control herself.

Your eyes dart back and forth between her lips and her eyes. Your head is so clouded with her, she’s filling you up to the brim and..

And you don’t want it to stop.

You stare up into her eyes, your own big and needy before you give her a soft nod. It’s all she needs to cup your face with both of her big hands, and kiss you passionately.

You moan softly into her mouth, your hand coming up and gripping her tattooed wrist as she dominates the kiss. Memories from your past with her comes flooding in, because her lips feel exactly like you remember, her so different.

You can tell how much older she is now, how much older you both are. Kisses that were once sweet and innocent are no passionate and heavy. Her need for you is practically pouring into your mouth as she kisses you, it’s sloppy and needy and she uses any opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

You gasp softly against her, and that’s when she does it. Her tongue is swirling around your mouth, wanting to explore every crevice of you so that she can remember it for the rest of her life. She’s crawling into you, pushing you back so that your back hits the edge of your couch.

“Ellie…” you moan out softly, your hands coming down to tug at her t shirt as you kiss her harder. The sound of your voice drives her further to do more for you. She nods gently as she brings her hand down to undo the clasps of your top. “I’m right here baby…I’m right here…” she sighs out as she begins removing your clothes.

You whine softly, because soon enough you’re nearly bare in front of her. You’re only in a pair of your cotton panties and you can’t help but bring your arms up to shield your chest from her. She frowns softly as she looks down at you, gently pulling your arms away as she leans in to press a loving kiss to your lips. “Don’t hide from me princess…it’s just me..” she hums softly against your lips.

And you know it’s just Ellie, but it’s hard because she’s not you’re Ellie anymore. She hasn’t been your Ellie for five years and it makes it feel like you’re bare in front of a stranger, all while being bare in front of the person you’ve wanted for such a long time, the person you’ve yearned for. It makes your head spin, and it makes it hard to breath and focus on Ellie’s lips on yours.

She knows it, because you’re struggling to kiss her back. She pulls back gently, bringing her hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You with me baby? You need me to stop?” She questions genuinely, her eyes searching yours for any sign of reassurance that you may need as her other hand strokes your arm gently.

You bite your lip as you stare up at her, and you know that if you open your mouth and speak, you’ll break down. You know that if you give in and tell her what’s on your mind, you’ll dig yourself in a deeper hole than you already are in.

Instead, you simply remove your hands from your chest and grab Ellie, pulling her closer and smashing your lips against hers in a needy kiss.

She knows better, she knows something is going on inside your mind. She knows that she needs to go further and make sure you’re okay, but she can’t ignore how good you feel against her, and how long she’s wanted you in this exact position.

She groans softly against your lips as one of her hands travels down to your body. Her skilled fingers pull and tug at your nipple between her fingers, causing you to moan into her mouth before she continues to travel down your body. Her hand finds it’s way between your legs, and she hisses the second she cups your clothes pussy.

“Fuck…so fuckin’ wet for me…you poor thing…” she groans softly. You moan softly as you break the kiss, looking down at the sinful sight that is her hand between your legs, rolling small circles onto your clit. She groans softly, her other hand grabbing your chin as she angles your face up and chases your lips. “Nah uh…need you here baby, need that pretty mouth while I’m playing with your pussy, got it?” She mumbles out, her voice hoarse. Her dominant tone makes your pussy ache, and you nod obediently as you let her back in, kissing her hungrily.

She hums softly as she continues kissing you as she rubs your clit, your slick covering the entire front of your panties. Ellie smirks softly as she finally breaks the kiss, needy to see the mess you’ve made, the mess you’ve made for her. She groans softly as she pulls your panties to the side, hissing softly as she rubs your bare clit a few times before she slips two fingers into you.

“Look at that…so fucking pretty…Jesus Christ…” she whispers out as she stares at your sopping pussy. You moan loudly once her fingers slip into you, your eyes rolling back as your head hits the edge of your couch.

“F-fuck Ellie…right there…fingers feel so..mmm…so good” you moan loudly for her, your back arching up off the edge of the couch as you wiggle and squirm beneath her. Ellie marvels at your body like it’s a work of art, groaning softly as her long fingers fuck up into your weeping cunt.

“Wish you could see yourself, Angel…prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen” she groans out as she stares down at your body, her other hand coming up and caressing your body before she cups your boob, giving it a firm squeeze before she moves down to catch your nipple into her mouth, swirling it around her tongue before sucking harshly on your skin.

You cry out for her, your body feeling extremely sensitive as she works on you. She makes sure to not leave any part of you without attention. You moan softly as you look down at her, your swollen bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you tug at her hair, your eyes low, hazy and lust filled as you whine for her.

“M’so close Els…mm…fuck…I can’t fucking…ahh” you cry out, already so fucked out you’re barely able to finish your sentences properly. She smirks softly against your skin before releasing your nipple with a pop, giving you an urging nod as she stares into your eyes. “Come on baby, give it to me…let it out for me, that’s it…” she groans out as she stares at you.

You whine softly as you stare into her eyes. It’s so intense, and it feels like so much more than her just fucking you with her fingers. It’s heavy, and it feels like your missing half is finally back with you after so long.

You’re moaning and whimpering and huffing for her as she works on your pussy, her fingers toying with you as if she knew you like the back of her hand. You want to hold on longer, and make this moment as long lasting as possible. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan out for her loudly, your back arching almost painfully as you cum hard all over her fingers, moaning her name like a mantra.

Ellie feels like she’s seeing fireworks. She stares at you in awe as you come undone beneath her. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, it’s raw and real and it’s you, and she wants to burn it into her memory for the rest of her days.

“That’s it…that’s my good fucking girl…Jesus Christ you’re so fucking beautiful…fuck…” she groans out, and you’d swear she was the one who just came the hardest she’s ever had in her entire life.

Her praises make you whimper as you come down from your orgasm, whining softly as her fingers slow down and slip out of your sore pussy. She leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You’re so fucked out, that you hardly realize you’re being lifted off the ground and up into Ellie’s arms.

You hum softly as you nestle your face into Ellie’s neck as she gently rests you on your bed, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’ll be right back baby…okay?” She mumbles softly as she pushes the hair on your face back. You mumble a quiet response to her as you cuddle into your soft sheets, your bare body cold in the open air of your room.

Ellie returns with a rag from your bathroom with warm water, and she smiles softly at you. Seeing you cuddled up on the bed warms her heart, and she feels like she’s falling in love with you all over again.

She gently pushed your thighs apart, cleaning you up as gently as possible. You don’t seem to mind much, the sound of the rain against your window is enough to lull you into a gentle sleep, which makes her chuckle softly as she leaves the room and tosses the rag into your hamper.

She quickly finds a t shirt for you to wear, slipping it over your body before she tucks you into bed, smiling softly when you cuddle into your pillow almost immediately. Ellie quietly pulls her jeans off, leaving her only in her t shirt and her boxers before she crawls into bed right next to you. She pulls you close by your waist, humming as she pressed her nose into your hair and inhales deeply, the scent of you making her mind floor with memories of you and her in the past.

She sighs softly, her eyes looking towards the window as the harsh rain continued pelting down onto your window before her own eyes closed, her fingers drawing small shapes into your skin as she held you close against your chest.

And as you drifted off into a deep sleep with each passing moment, all you could think about was Ellie, and how much pain she had caused you in the past.

And how much harder it would be to get over it than you thought.

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