Cameron's Girl

𝑺𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒑

𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑳𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 (𝑵𝒊𝒄 𝒙 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂!𝒐𝒄), 𝑪𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 (𝑵𝒊𝒄 𝒙 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝑶𝑪), 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑩𝒆 𝑼𝒔 (𝑵𝒊𝒄 𝒙 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝑶𝑪), 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚, 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 (𝑵𝒊𝒄 𝒙 𝑫𝑰𝑳𝑭!𝒐𝒄), 𝟐𝟕 𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 (𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝑨𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒕!𝒐𝒄), 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒑 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍 (𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒆𝒙!𝒐𝒄), 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 & 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒔 (𝒂𝒍𝒕!𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒉!𝑶𝑪), 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑶𝑼𝑻 (𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉!𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍!𝑶𝑪), 𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 & 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒈 (𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒚!𝑵𝒊𝒄 𝒙 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆!𝑶𝑪)

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅: 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 (𝑵𝒊𝒄 𝒙 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝑶𝑪)

Happy Birthday to Nick, who's taught me to be confident in myself, to be positive no matter the situation. (I swear if Noah doesn't post something I will riot)

Happy Birthday to Matt, who I feel I relate to the most. We both write to escape, and Matt has taught me that having anxiety isn't always a bad thing.

Happy Birthday to Chris, who's taught me to always be myself, even if other people don't like it.

Happy birthday to these three amazing boys who make the world a brighter place day by day. Happy birthday to these wonderful guys who've changed the lives of millions.

Happy birthday to the Sturniolo Triplets <3

May 23 be a spectacular year for you.

(Nick x Jalen)

The rotor blades carved the sky into soft, rhythmic pulses as the helicopter lifted from the private airstrip, a low thrum that settled into Jalen’s chest like a second heartbeat.

Golden hour had already begun its quiet alchemy across the California hills—sunlight the color of aged honey spilling over ridgelines, turning every dry grass and distant oak into something luminous and fleeting.

Jalen sat beside Nick, their knees brushing, and watched the way the light caught in the younger man’s lashes when he finally opened his eyes.

Nick had been quiet since the moment they climbed aboard. His fingers had tightened around Jalen’s hand during the pre-flight briefing, knuckles pale against the warm brown of Jalen’s skin.

He had joked earlier—something about how the only heights he trusted were the ones on his camera roll—but the humor had thinned the closer they got to the open doors and the waiting sky. Jalen had only squeezed once, firm and steady, and murmured, “I’ve got you,” against the shell of Nick’s ear. That had been enough to get him into the seat.

Now the ground fell away.

The world tilted and softened. The city became a scatter of tiny lights already beginning to wake, the coastline a silver thread unspooling toward the horizon.

Jalen leaned forward slightly, the headset snug over his dark curls, and felt the familiar, private thrill of elevation. He had flown before—chartered planes for brand trips, drones for content—but never like this.

Never with Nick’s breath audible in the shared channel, never with the late sun painting the glass of the cockpit in molten amber.

Nick’s free hand rested on his own thigh, fingers flexing once, twice. Jalen covered it without looking, thumb stroking slow circles across the back of Nick’s hand. The contact was simple. Necessary. He felt the tension bleed out in increments, the way heat leaves a stone after dusk.

“Look,” Jalen said softly into the mic.

Nick turned his head. The golden light found the freckles across the bridge of his nose, the soft pink of his lower lip. Below them the hills rolled in slow waves of shadow and fire.

And then—there. In the darker folds of the valleys, in the open meadows that had already slipped into twilight while the higher ground still burned—tiny points of light began to rise.

Fireflies.

Hundreds of them. Thousands. They lifted from the grass in soft, pulsing clouds, green-gold and weightless, as if the earth itself had decided to breathe stars upward.

The pilot banked gently, giving them a longer view, and the swarm drifted like living embers beneath the helicopter’s belly. Some rose higher than the rest, almost close enough to touch if the doors had been open, their intermittent glow reflecting faintly against the glass.

Nick made a small sound—half laugh, half something quieter. His fingers tightened around Jalen’s again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was wonder.

Jalen watched the shift happen in real time: the way Nick’s shoulders loosened, the way his mouth parted, the way his eyes—always so expressive, always so ready to perform—simply received. No camera. No audience. Just the two of them suspended between a dying sun and a field of living light.

Jalen’s chest ached with it.

He had planned this carefully. The private charter. The timing calculated to the minute so they would be aloft exactly when the light turned liquid.

He had wanted to give Nick something that couldn’t be edited or filtered or turned into content—something that existed only in the space between their bodies and the sky. And here it was.

The nervousness had been real. The courage to come anyway had been realer. And now the reward unfurled beneath them like a secret the earth had kept until they were ready.

The pilot circled once more, slower this time. The fireflies thickened in the lower shadows, a river of soft green sparks moving against the darker green of the grass.

Higher up, the last of the sun caught the rotor wash and scattered it into fine gold dust. Jalen felt the warmth of it against the side of his face, felt Nick’s shoulder press closer until there was no space left between them.

“I was scared,” Nick admitted, voice low enough that it almost didn’t register through the headset. “Like… actually scared.”

Jalen turned fully toward him. The light had gone copper now, catching the curve of Nick’s cheekbone, the faint sheen of moisture at the corner of one eye that might have been wind or something else.

Jalen reached up and brushed it away with the pad of his thumb, careful, lingering.

“I know,” he said. “You came anyway.”

Nick’s mouth curved—small, private. “Yeah. I did.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the helicopter drifting in wide, lazy arcs while the fireflies continued their quiet constellation below.

Jalen catalogued every detail the way he sometimes catalogued light for a photoshoot: the way Nick’s dark hair lifted slightly in the filtered air from the vents, the way his skin stood out sharper in the golden wash, the way his breathing had finally synced with Jalen’s own.

The city lights grew brighter as the sun slipped fully behind the western ridge, but the fireflies held their own against the encroaching dark, stubborn and soft and alive.

When the pilot finally radioed that it was time to begin the descent, Nick didn’t flinch. He only leaned his head against Jalen’s shoulder, eyes still on the glowing fields below, and whispered something too quiet for the headset to catch. Jalen felt the shape of the words against his collarbone more than he heard them.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Nick’s head, slow and deliberate, and watched the last of the fireflies wink out one by one as the helicopter lowered them gently back toward the earth—toward the ordinary world that would still be waiting, but would never again feel quite the same.

@thenickgirl

(How do people make text gradient is it like a premium thing or what 😭)

Adelaine + Chris

(Cheap Motel)

Cheap Motel: Matt Sturniolo x Ex!oc

Matt used to be in a relationship with a tiktoker and aspiring singer, Adelaine Iseman.

At first, everything was lovely. Then Matt started putting Adelaine last. Whether it was filming, hanging with friends, meetings, Adelaine never felt like a priority. Then Matt became that kind of guy. The kind that mistreats someone without getting violent. The kind that ignores feelings. The kind that makes you feel inconvenient.

So, they split. Of course, social media had no idea. But Nick and Chris knew. They stayed friends with Adelaine, even though she and Matt unfollowed each other and completely cut contact.

Now, months after the breakup, Adelaine posts a new song Cheap Motel, and the guest star of her music video? Chris Sturniolo.

Adelaine Iseman | 21 | Ex-Girlfriend with talent

Matt Sturniolo

Quiet, calm, sweet. 22. YouTuber.

Della Blaire

Oblivious, bubbly, cheerful. 23. Tiktoker.

Maybe it's just cause I'm not looking but I haven't seen ONE parasocial post about Nick and Noah (but it could also just be because 11 year old girls probs don't want the gay one :/ I'LL TAKE HIM THO)

And I'm really happy for them because they super cute and Nick deserves to be happy, but I feel like Im just waiting for the bad side.

DADDY, DADDY, PART SIX

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like heaven. Eggs were sizzling in one pan, bacon in another, and Clint moved around the space with that same effortless confidence Nick couldn’t stop noticing.

Amelie was still upstairs — her shower apparently turning into a full concert, judging by the muffled singing floating down. That left Nick sitting at the kitchen table, trying to look casual while his brain replayed the image of Clint shirtless from upstairs on loop.

Clint had the TV on in the living room, visible from the kitchen island. He’d picked a movie at random and let it play while he cooked.

Of all things… he’d put on Miller’s Girl.

Nick stared at the screen, eyebrows slowly pulling together. He knew the movie. He’d seen the trailers. The whole teacher-student thing. The tension. The way the age gap was treated like this dark, magnetic pull. It felt way too on the nose.

Why that movie? Does he even know what it’s about? Is this a coincidence?

Clint hummed quietly to himself as he flipped the bacon, completely relaxed. Every few seconds he’d tear off a small crispy piece, cool it down for a second, and hold it out.

“Here you go, Rem. Easy, buddy. Not too fast.”

Remy happily took the treat, tail wagging like crazy, then immediately trotted over to Nick like he was sharing the prize. The big golden dropped the piece of bacon right at Nick’s feet and looked up at him with proud, expectant eyes.

Nick couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, boy,” he whispered, picking it up and pretending to eat it before sneaking it back to Remy. The dog ate it with glee and immediately went back to Clint for more.

Clint laughed — that warm, deep dad laugh that made Nick’s stomach twist again. “He’s trying to recruit you into his little bacon cult. Don’t fall for it, Nick. He’s manipulative when there’s pork involved.”

Nick forced a chuckle, but his eyes kept drifting back to the TV. On screen, the teacher and student were having one of those charged conversations, the kind loaded with subtext. Nick shifted in his seat, cheeks feeling hot.

He’s Amelie’s dad. He’s literally cooking you breakfast right now and you’re sitting here thinking about…

Clint glanced over his shoulder. “You good with eggs scrambled? I can do them however you like.”

“Scrambled is perfect,” Nick said quickly. “Thank you.”

Clint nodded and went back to the stove. Another piece of bacon was torn off and handed down. “Who’s my good boy? Yeah, you are. Such a polite beggar, aren’t you?”

Remy ate it happily and once again trotted straight over to Nick, bacon piece dangling from his mouth like a gift. He dropped it on Nick’s lap this time, tail thumping against the chair leg.

Nick scratched behind Remy’s ears, trying to focus on the dog instead of the movie or the way Clint’s sweatpants sat on his hips or the smooth skin he’d seen earlier that morning.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

He’s twice your age. He has a daughter your age. He just called Remy “good boy” in that voice and now you’re—

“You like this movie?” Clint asked casually, nodding toward the TV as he plated the food.

Nick blinked. “Uh… I’ve heard about it. Didn’t know you were into stuff like this.”

Clint shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “It was just on my watchlist. Figured it’d be interesting background noise. Kind of intense though.”

Intense was an understatement. Nick watched as another loaded scene played out — the power imbalance, the forbidden tension, the way the younger character kept pushing boundaries.

His throat felt tight.

Remy came back again, this time with a fresh piece of bacon, and practically laid his head in Nick’s lap, looking for cuddles while he chewed. Nick buried his fingers in the dog’s fur, using him as an anchor.

Clint brought two full plates over and set one in front of Nick. The food looked perfect — fluffy eggs, crispy bacon, buttered toast on the side.

“Eat up before it gets cold,” Clint said, sitting down across from him. He reached over and gave Remy’s head a fond pat. “You’re gonna make Nick your new best friend at this rate, huh buddy?”

Remy let out a content huff and stayed right where he was, half in Nick’s lap.

Nick picked up his fork, but his appetite was weirdly twisted. Every time Clint spoke to the dog in that soft, affectionate tone, every time he laughed, every time Nick remembered the sight of him changing… it all crashed together with the movie playing in the background.

This is so fucked up. He’s just being a good host. A good dad. Stop reading into everything, you pervy pervert.

But Nick couldn’t stop. Not the way his eyes lingered when Clint stretched his arms. Not the way his pulse jumped when Clint casually said “good boy” again to Remy.

Amelie’s voice suddenly carried down the stairs. “I smell bacon! Save me some!”

Clint smiled and called back, “Already did, kiddo.”

Nick took a bite of eggs and tried to act normal. But inside, the questions were getting louder.

How was he supposed to act normal around this man for the rest of the sleepover?

How was he supposed to look Amelie in the eye?

And why did the word “Daddy” suddenly feel like it had two completely different meanings in his head now?

@thenickgirl @noellexflwrs

Okay yes i know it's been ages for some reason I couldn't post for like a month and I've written this a lot offline and I've literally FINISHED the series and I just need to post them all 😭

50 posts!

Daddy, Daddy Part Five

The next morning came too quickly.

Nick woke up on the floor of Amelie’s room in a nest of blankets, his neck a little stiff. Amelie was already up and moving around, humming to herself as she gathered clothes.

“I’m hopping in the shower first,” she told him, tossing a pillow at his head. “Daddy’s probably making breakfast. You can use his bathroom if you need to brush your teeth or whatever. He won’t mind.”

Nick nodded sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “Okay. Thanks.”

A few minutes later, after Amelie disappeared into her bathroom, Nick grabbed his toiletry bag and headed down the hall. Clint’s bedroom door was open. He knocked lightly on the frame.

Clint appeared from inside the room, already dressed in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that somehow still looked unfairly good on him.

“Morning, Nick. Sleep alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. Amelie said I could use your bathroom to brush my teeth?”

Clint nodded easily. “Go for it. Door’s open, towels are clean. Help yourself to anything in there.”

He gave Nick a warm smile and headed downstairs, Remy trotting after him like always.

Nick stepped into Clint’s bathroom. It felt strangely intimate — dark wood tones, a big walk-in shower, and the faint scent of Clint’s cologne still lingering in the air. He stood at the sink, pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste, and started brushing like normal.

The door to the bedroom was still open behind him. He didn’t think much of it.

Until he glanced up into the mirror and saw movement in the bedroom.

Clint had come back upstairs.

And he was changing.

Nick’s hand froze mid-brush as Clint casually pulled his white t-shirt off, back facing the bathroom doorway. Those broad shoulders and smooth, muscular back were on full display again, the same view that had wrecked him last night, but brighter now in the morning light.

Then Clint turned slightly, reaching for a new shirt on the dresser.

Nick got a clear side view of his chest and abs. Smooth skin. Strong lines. The way his muscles shifted naturally as he moved. It was casual, domestic… and completely fucking devastating.

Nick’s brain short-circuited.

Without thinking, he pushed the toothbrush further into his mouth, almost gagging himself as his throat tightened around it. His eyes stayed glued to the mirror, watching Clint. The toothbrush slipped deeper, and he had to quickly pull it back, coughing quietly into his fist.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

His face burned bright red. He turned on the faucet fast, pretending to rinse his mouth like nothing happened, but his heart was slamming against his ribs. He could still see Clint in the reflection, now pulling on a fresh navy blue t-shirt.

Clint hadn’t noticed him staring. At least… Nick didn’t think he had.

Nick spat out the toothpaste, rinsed again, and tried to pull himself together. His hands were shaking slightly. He looked at himself in the mirror, his flushed cheeks, wide eyes, wet lips from brushing too aggressively.

He’s just changing. It’s his house. His room. Stop being a fucking creep.

But the image was already burned into his brain. The smooth chest. The way his sweatpants sat low on his hips. The casual confidence of a man who had nothing to hide in his own home.

Nick dried his face quickly and stepped out of the bathroom just as Clint finished adjusting his shirt.

“All good?” Clint asked, voice casual and warm like always.

“Yeah,” Nick managed, voice a little hoarse. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

“No problem at all.” Clint reached down to scratch Remy’s ears as the dog circled between them. “I’m making breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry. Amelie usually takes forever in the shower, so you’ve got time.”

Nick nodded, forcing a small smile. “Sounds good.”

Clint headed back downstairs, Remy following right behind him. Nick stayed standing in the hallway for a few extra seconds, trying to calm his racing pulse.

He could still taste toothpaste. His throat felt strangely tight.

This was only the second day of knowing Clint, and Nick already felt like he was losing control of his own brain. Every little thing the man did — laughing, baby-talking the dog, making midnight snacks, even just changing clothes — hit Nick somewhere deep he didn’t want to look at too closely.

He took a slow breath and headed downstairs.

Amelie’s voice was already carrying from the kitchen, talking to her dad about weekend plans. Nick plastered on a normal smile before walking in.

But inside, his thoughts were spiraling.

Get it together, Nick.

He’s Amelie’s Daddy.

Not yours.

@thenickgirl @noellexflwrs

Daddy, Daddy Part Four

The movie was still playing when Amelie finally passed out.

They’d made it about halfway through The Maze Runner. There were blankets everywhere, the donut box half empty on the floor, Remy snoring softly between them. Amelie had been fighting sleep for the last twenty minutes, mumbling commentary about how hot Dylan O’Brien was, before her voice just… stopped. Her head slumped against the pillow, breathing slow and even.

Nick stayed there for a few more minutes, staring at the screen without really watching. He wasn’t even tired. His brain was too loud. Every time he closed his eyes he kept seeing little flashes of the day — Clint at the grill, that deep laugh, the way he’d looked standing in Amelie’s doorway.

Eventually the hunger hit. Those donuts weren’t enough, and his stomach was growling. He carefully slid off the bed, trying not to wake Amelie or Remy, and crept out of the room.

The house was quiet. Only a few lights were still on downstairs. Nick padded down the stairs in his socks and hoodie, trying to be as silent as possible. He just needed something small, maybe some chips or fruit. Then he’d go right back up.

But the second he stepped into the kitchen, he froze.

Clint was standing at the stove.

Shirtless.

Completely shirtless.

The man was making a grilled cheese, bacon sizzling in a second pan. A few pieces of lettuce waited on a plate nearby. But it was the lack of shirt that completely short-circuited Nick’s brain. Clint’s back was broad and strong, muscles shifting smoothly as he flipped the sandwich. When he turned slightly to grab a plate, Nick got a clear view of his chest — smooth, no hair at all, solid pecs and defined abs that looked way too good for someone in his mid-forties. The kitchen light caught on his skin, highlighting the faint lines of muscle.

Remy was sitting right at his feet, tail thumping against the tile as Clint tore off a small piece of bread and held it down for him.

“There you go, buddy,” Clint murmured in that soft, low baby-talk voice. “Just a little piece. Don’t tell Amelie I’m spoiling you again, okay? Yeah, that’s my good boy. Such a polite boy.”

Remy took the bread gently and nibbled happily.

Nick stood there in the doorway like an idiot, heart hammering. He knew he should say something. Announce himself. But his mouth felt dry and his brain was too busy cataloging every detail — the way Clint’s shoulders moved, the soft trail of veins running down his arms, how relaxed and comfortable he looked half-naked in his own kitchen.

Clint turned and finally noticed him. Instead of looking embarrassed, he just smiled casually.

“Hey, Nick. Couldn’t sleep?”

Nick blinked, forcing his eyes up to Clint’s face. “Uh— yeah. I mean, no. Amelie fell asleep watching the movie and I got hungry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” Clint said easily. He turned back to the stove, giving Remy another tiny piece of bread. “I’m a night owl. Want half of this? I always make too much.”

Nick hesitated. Sitting here with a shirtless Clint felt dangerous. But refusing would be weird, right?

“Sure. If it’s not too much trouble.”

Clint nodded toward the table. “Have a seat.”

Nick slid into the same chair he’d used at dinner. Remy immediately abandoned Clint and came over, resting his big head on Nick’s lap again, looking for more pets. Nick obliged, running his fingers through the dog’s soft fur while trying (and failing) not to watch Clint move around the kitchen.

The older man looked stupidly good. Confident. Domestic in a way that made Nick’s chest feel tight. He wasn’t flexing or showing off, he was just… being. Making a late-night sandwich, feeding his dog little treats, completely at ease in his own skin.

“So,” Clint said, flipping the grilled cheese with practiced ease, “you and Amelie have been friends for a while now, right?”

“Yeah. Since my sophomore year. She’s basically my favorite person.”

Clint smiled at that, glancing over his shoulder. “She thinks the same about you. Talks about you constantly.” He paused to coo at Remy again. “Isn’t that right, Rem? Nick’s one of the good ones, huh?”

The baby talk hit Nick like a warm punch to the stomach. Clint’s voice got so gentle when he spoke to the dog. It was unfairly attractive.

A few minutes later, Clint brought two plates over and sat down across from him. The grilled cheese looked perfect, crispy bread, melty cheese, bacon, and fresh lettuce. He slid one plate toward Nick.

“Eat up.”

“Thank you,” Nick said quietly. He took a bite and nearly groaned. It was stupidly good. “This is really good.”

Clint chuckled that low, warm dad laugh again. “Glad you like it. Simple but hits the spot at midnight.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sounds being Remy’s tail thumping and the occasional soft crunch of bacon. Nick kept stealing glances when he thought Clint wasn’t looking. The smooth plane of his chest. The way his arms flexed when he reached for his water. The faint stubble on his jaw.

Every time Clint noticed Remy begging, he’d break off a tiny piece and murmur, “Easy, buddy. Don’t be greedy now. You’re already the most spoiled dog in the city.”

Nick smiled down at the dog in his lap. “He’s really sweet.”

“He is,” Clint agreed, eyes softening as he looked at Remy. “Best decision I ever made, getting him after the divorce. He’s been good for both me and Amelie.”

There was something really warm in his voice when he said that. Nick felt another flutter in his chest — this time mixed with a tiny stab of guilt. This was Amelie’s dad. Her Daddy. The man who checked on them during sleepovers and made midnight snacks and spoiled his dog.

And here Nick was, trying not to stare at his bare chest like a complete creep.

Clint looked up and caught his eye for a second. Nick quickly looked back down at Remy, cheeks warming.

“You alright?” Clint asked, voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Nick said quickly. “Just… thinking. Thanks again for letting me stay over. And for the food. And everything.”

Clint’s smile was soft. “Anytime, Nick. You’re always welcome here.”

Nick took another bite of the grilled cheese, heart racing faster than it had any right to.

This sleepover was becoming way more tempting than he expected.

Daddy, Daddy Part Three

Amelie’s room was exactly what Nick expected. Fairy lights strung across the ceiling, posters of her favorite bands and influencers covering one wall, and a mountain of plushies on her bed. Remy had followed them upstairs immediately, claiming his usual spot at the foot of her bed like a fluffy guard dog.

They were both in pajamas now, Nick in his oversized black hoodie and sweats, Amelie in a matching set with little strawberries printed all over it. They’d sprawled out on her bed, surrounded by shopping bags they were still sorting through, gossiping like it was their full-time job.

“Okay but wait—” Amelie said, popping a piece of gum in her mouth, “did you see the way Sarah was looking at that guy from her chemistry class? She was practically undressing him with her eyes in the cafeteria. I told her she’s so obvious.”

Nick laughed, lying on his stomach and kicking his feet in the air. “She’s down bad. I feel like she’s gonna confess soon. My prediction? Before finals.”

Remy let out a big sigh and rolled onto his back between them, demanding belly rubs. Nick reached over and obliged, scratching the dog’s chest while Amelie kept going.

“Also, lowkey? I think my mom’s dating someone again. She got all weird when I asked about her plans this weekend. She did that fake laugh thing she does when she’s hiding something.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You think she’d tell you if she was?”

“Eventually. She and Daddy are super chill about that stuff. They’ve been divorced for like six years now and they’re actually friends, it’s weirdly wholesome.”

Nick nodded, still petting Remy. Every time Amelie casually said “Daddy,” it did something to him. It sounded so sweet and loving coming from her. Normal. But in Nick’s head, the word kept twisting into something else, something that made his face feel warm.

They were deep into a story about their English teacher’s questionable haircut when a polite knock sounded on the door.

“Come in!” Amelie called.

The door opened and Clint stepped in, still wearing that tight black t-shirt from earlier. He looked relaxed, one hand resting on the doorframe. His eyes scanned the room quickly — making sure everything was okay — before landing on the two of them.

“Hey, just checking in,” he said, voice warm and low. “You two good? Need anything? Water? Snacks?”

Amelie sat up a little. “We’re fine right now, Daddy. Thanks though.”

Clint nodded, smiling softly. “Alright. Holler if you need me. I’ll be downstairs.” He gave Remy a quick head pat on his way out. “Be good, buddy.”

The door clicked shut again.

Nick let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Even just those few seconds of Clint being in the room made the air feel different. He was so… present. Calm. The kind of dad who actually checked in instead of just leaving them alone.

Amelie went right back into gossip mode, but Nick’s attention kept drifting. He kept replaying the way Clint’s voice sounded when he said “be good, buddy.” That same gentle tone he used with Remy earlier.

About five minutes later, another knock.

“Come in!” Amelie said again.

Clint reappeared holding a white box from a local bakery. He was smiling like he’d just pulled off a magic trick.

“Figured you might want something sweet,” he said, setting the box on Amelie’s desk. “Fresh donuts. Glazed, chocolate, and those strawberry ones you like.”

Amelie’s eyes widened. She sat up fully, staring at the box.

“Daddy, did you pull these from your asshole? How’d you get these so fast?”

Clint burst out laughing, that same deep, attractive dad laugh from dinner that made Nick’s stomach flutter again. He shook his head, leaning against the doorframe.

“Language. And I had them in the kitchen already. Picked them up earlier today. I know you two would crash eventually and want sugar.”

“You’re the best,” Amelie said, already hopping up to open the box. “Seriously. Nick, you have to try the strawberry ones. They’re insane.”

Nick sat up, smiling shyly. “Thank you, Clint. That’s really nice of you.”

Clint’s eyes met his for a moment. “No problem at all. Enjoy them.” He gave Remy one last scratch behind the ears. “Don’t let these two spoil you too much, okay, Rem? You’re already spoiled enough.”

Remy wagged his tail happily.

As Clint turned to leave, he paused in the doorway. “Don’t stay up too late, alright? And Nick… you’re welcome to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry later. Make yourself at home.”

Then he was gone again, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

Amelie was already stuffing half a donut in her mouth. “See? He’s literally the coolest. Most parents would just tell us to go to sleep by now.”

Nick nodded, biting into one of the glazed donuts. It was warm and perfect. But his mind wasn’t really on the food.

He kept thinking about how Clint had knocked both times. How he’d checked in. How natural and easy he was with Amelie. How good he looked just standing in the doorway like it was nothing.

Remy had moved over to Nick again, resting his big head on his thigh while he ate. Nick stroked the dog’s fur absentmindedly, half-listening as Amelie kept gossiping between bites of donut.

But inside, Nick’s thoughts were getting louder.

He’s just a good dad. That’s all.

Stop thinking about the way he laughs.

Stop thinking about his arms in that shirt.

Stop.

He took another bite of donut and tried to focus on whatever Amelie was saying about their math teacher. But every time he shifted, he could still feel the ghost of Clint’s presence in the room.

This sleepover was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

@thenickgirl @noellexflwrs

Daddy, Daddy Part Two

They brought everything inside after Clint finished grilling. The kitchen smelled amazing — charred burgers, toasted buns, and that smoky outdoor scent that clung to Clint’s black t-shirt. Amelie was already setting plates down on the big wooden dining table like she’d done it a thousand times.

“Daddy, can you grab the ketchup?” she asked, grinning.

Clint gave her a fond look and reached into the fridge without missing a beat. Nick tried not to stare at the way the shirt pulled across his back when he stretched. He failed miserably.

“Sit wherever you want, Nick,” Clint said, voice warm and easy as he set the condiments down. “Mi casa es su casa tonight.”

Nick chose the chair across from Amelie, but before he could even settle, a cold, wet nose pressed right into the side of his knee.

“Oh— hi, buddy,” Nick laughed softly.

Remy had followed them in and immediately zeroed in on the new person. The big golden Labrador sniffed eagerly at Nick’s kneecaps, then pawed at his jeans with one heavy paw, tail wagging so hard his whole body moved with it.

“He likes you,” Amelie said, already piling toppings onto her burger. “Remy’s a total cuddle slut. He’s gonna be your shadow all night.”

Nick reached down and scratched behind Remy’s soft ears. The dog leaned into it instantly, letting out a happy sigh and pushing his head further into Nick’s lap.

Clint chuckled from the head of the table.

And God… that laugh.

It was deep, rich, and warm — the kind of laugh that felt like it came straight from his chest. A real dad laugh. The type that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and showed off the faint laugh lines that only made him look better. Nick’s stomach did a weird little flip.

“He’s not subtle, is he?” Clint said, still smiling as he watched Remy beg for more attention. “Remy, c’mon, let the poor boy eat first, you goofball.”

But Remy ignored him completely, now resting his chin on Nick’s thigh and looking up with big pleading eyes.

Nick couldn’t help it. He kept one hand on the dog, stroking his golden fur while he tried to assemble his own burger with the other. Every time he stopped petting, Remy would paw at him again, insistent and adorable.

Clint let out another one of those attractive laughs, shaking his head. “He’s spoiled rotten. Isn’t that right, Rem? Yeah, you’re a big spoiled baby, huh?”

The baby talk hit Nick harder than it should have. Clint’s voice dropped into this soft, affectionate tone when he spoke to the dog — low and rumbly, the kind of voice that made Nick feel strangely warm inside. He tried to focus on his food instead.

The burgers were incredible, obviously. Juicy, perfectly seasoned. They talked about normal stuff while they ate — Amelie recapping their shopping trip in dramatic detail, the new sneakers she’d convinced Nick to buy, the terrible iced matcha she’d gotten that tasted like grass.

Clint listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at all the right moments. But every few sentences, he’d glance down at Remy and interrupt himself.

“—and then the cashier looked at us like we were crazy, but—” Clint paused, looking under the table. “Remy, buddy, you gotta stop pawing his leg like that. Yeah? You’re being ridiculous, big guy. Such a silly boy.”

Nick smiled despite himself, continuing to pet the dog. Remy’s tail thumped loudly against the floor.

Amelie rolled her eyes. “Daddy’s worse than I am. He talks to Remy like he’s a toddler.”

“Can you blame me?” Clint said, leaning back in his chair. That laugh again — softer this time. “Look at that face. Who’s my good boy? Huh? Who’s the best boy in the whole house?”

Remy’s ears perked up and he let out a little happy woof, still glued to Nick’s side.

Nick’s cheeks felt warm. He kept his eyes on his plate, focusing way too hard on his fries.

After they finished eating, Amelie stretched dramatically. “Okay, I’m going upstairs to change into pajamas. This outfit is cute but it’s not comfy. Nick, you can come up whenever. We’ll watch something in my room.”

She gave her dad a quick side hug. “Thanks for dinner, Daddy.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

And just like that, she was gone, footsteps disappearing up the stairs.

Suddenly it was just the two of them.

Nick stayed seated, one hand still absently stroking Remy’s head. The kitchen felt quieter now. More intimate.

Clint leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, Nick,” he said, genuinely curious. “Amelie talks about you all the time, but I don’t know much. What do you do for fun? Hobbies? You into sports, music, art…?”

Nick swallowed. Being alone with Clint felt different. The man had this calm, steady presence that made the air feel thicker.

“I, um… I really like fashion,” Nick started. “Thrifting, putting outfits together, that kind of thing. Me and Amelie do that a lot. I also make playlists for everything. And I’ve been trying to learn how to cook more, but I’m kinda terrible at it so far.”

Clint nodded, listening like he actually cared. “Fashion makes sense. You’ve got good style. That jacket you were wearing earlier? Sharp.”

Nick felt his face heat up at the casual compliment.

Before he could respond, Clint glanced down again.

“Remy, come on, dude. Give him some space,” he said in that same soft baby-talk voice. “You’re gonna annoy him, buddy. Yeah, I know, I know. You just love new friends, don’t you? Such a sweet boy.”

Remy responded by rolling onto his back for belly rubs, legs kicking happily. Nick laughed and reached down to oblige him.

Clint watched them with a small, fond smile. “He doesn’t do that with everyone. Guess you passed the Remy test.”

Nick looked up, meeting Clint’s eyes for a moment. They were kind, but there was something else there too — something steady and observant that made Nick’s pulse quicken.

“How was your day, by the way?” Clint asked, continuing the conversation. “Besides getting dragged around the mall by my daughter.”

“It was good,” Nick said. “Really fun, actually. Your daughter’s the best shopping partner.”

Clint chuckled again — that deep, attractive dad laugh — and Nick felt it settle somewhere low in his chest.

The conversation flowed easily after that, but every few minutes Clint would break off to coo at Remy in that gentle voice, and every single time Nick felt his stomach do that same little flip.

He had no idea how he was supposed to survive an entire sleepover like this.

Tags: @thenickgirl @noellexflwrs

Daddy, Daddy Part One

Nick’s arms were sore from carrying all the shopping bags, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Amelie had dragged him to three different malls today, and somehow he still wasn’t tired of her chaos.

As they turned onto her street, Amelie swung her bags happily. “You’re gonna love my house. Daddy makes the best burgers.”

Nick blinked. Daddy. The word sounded so casual coming from her, warm and affectionate. He didn’t think much of it at first.

They pushed open the side gate and stepped into the backyard. The smell of grilling meat hit them immediately.

And there he was.

Clint Peterson stood at the grill in a tight black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and thick arms. A few silver strands caught the sunlight in his dark hair. He was casually feeding little pieces of burger to Remy, the big golden Labrador bouncing excitedly at his feet.

“Remy, sit. Good boy,” Clint said, voice deep and warm, before looking up. His face broke into a smile when he saw them. “There’s my girl.”

“Daddy!” Amelie beamed, running over to hug him. Clint wrapped one big arm around her, careful not to get grease on her clothes.

Then his eyes moved to Nick.

“You must be Nick. Amelie’s told me a lot about you.” He wiped his hand on a towel and extended it. “Clint. Nice to finally meet you.”

Nick took his hand.

The grip was firm. Warm. Nick felt it all the way down to his stomach.

“Hi, Mr. Peterson,” he said softly. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

Clint’s eyes lingered on him for just a second longer than normal. “Any friend of Amelie’s is welcome here. And you can call me Clint.”

Amelie rolled her eyes fondly. “He lets everyone call him Clint. Except me, obviously. Right, Daddy?”

Clint chuckled and ruffled her hair. “Obviously.”

Nick stood there trying to act normal, but his heart was already beating too fast. The way Clint looked in that tight shirt, the easy confidence, the deep voice… it was dangerous.

This was going to be a long night.

@thenickgirl mwah

I was conspiring all day 😭 I don't wanna rush it all too much, so the first few parts won't be immediately dirty but trust, it's getting there.

If anyone wants to be in the tag list, just ask :)

I also made this :3 I picture Clint as Timothy Olyphant because he's so DILF material like look at this sexy fine piece of ass take my clothes off please