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notjustjavierpena · 7 months

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Swelter

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A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

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meara-eldestofthemall · 11 months

Text

Gee, thanks DC! You Just Turned Bruce Into An Irredeemable Ass.

So, at the end of Gotham War Bruce has officially lost everything. Alfred is still dead, Selina is "presumed dead" and Bruce is both financially and morally broke. Why, you may ask, is Bruce so much worse off this time? Let me count the ways.

He preformed a psychic lobotomy on Jason

The "it's for your own good" excuse only makes the mental rape undertaken by Jason's own father that much more heinous.

Just when you think Bruce can't sink any lower he does. When Dick recognizes that Bruce has lost it, he attempts to use a failsafe disconnect that Bruce himself built into the system. How does Nightwing get thanked for that? Well that brings us to number two on the list.

Batman attacks up his eldest son for doing what he's supposed to do when Batman has gone rouge.

Bruce beats him up because nothing proves you are in control of your sanity like hitting your children. While Dick is holding back, Bruce does no such thing. He hits Nightwing hard enough to send him flying. It could have gotten even worse if Tim hadn't shown up.

Tim arrives and attempts to talk some sense into Batman.

Tim tries to talk Bruce down. It doesn't go well. When Robin is trying to help, as he always does, Batman uses the attempt to reason with him to put the smack down on his son. Bruce could have killed Tim but apparently feels no remorse or guilt.

If there was any teeny tiny little doubt that Bruce will not win the Father of The Year award in 2023 it died a horrible screaming death when Batman abandons his children to potential arrest. Yes, he left a batarang for Dick and Tim but any glimer of possible hope associated with that action was instantly extinguished by Damian's reaction to Batman's callous betrayal.

Bruce abandons Damian.

Look at Dami; he's devastated. Since he came into Bruce's life, Damian has struggled with feelings that he can never earn his father's love and respect. Well, that negative self-image was reinforced in way that may never be repairable. Bruce just utterly destroyed a 13 year old child because of his inability to feel any kind of empathy.

And how does this all end? The best part is that Bruce takes all of his parental responsibilities and dumps them onto Dick.

Thank you Chip Zdarsky and Trini Howard. You've taken Batman from being an edgy anti-hero and made him into a callous monster. Part of me hopes that Bruce never comes back because he doesn't deserve his family.

The only positive aspect in this convoluted mess is that Damian and Tim will be far better off with Dick than with Bruce. Yes, Tim is mostly independent but he still needs guidance (particularly since Tim's first instinct is to try and save Bruce). Damian is essentially Dick's son emotionally anyway so this might help to sustain the positive character growth we've seen in him as of late.

The point of this rant is to wonder what on earth DC thinks they're doing. This story arc has been pure character destruction as far as Bruce is concerned. It's bad storytelling too; rushed, frenetic and massively disappointing.

Hasn't the popularity of Good Dad Bruce in Wayne Family Adventures proved that fans are tired of Bruce being a dark depressed and brooding edge lord? We all accept that Batman is a character with deeeeep issues who is in desperate need of therapy. I, however, draw the line at Bruce being an abusive a**hole.

In years to come when fans wonder when Batman jumped the shark, this is the plot line they'll point to.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #batman #nightwing #tim drake robin #damian wayne robin #batfam #dc stands for disappoints continually

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requiemforthepoets · 9 days

Text

you could be the one that i love, i could be the one that you dream of 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!actress!reader

SUMMARY: you were fine in supporting your older brother, carlos, from afar. but when he insisted (practically begged) you to come, you can’t help but cave in.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i know that the princess diaries came out in the early 2000s, but for the sake of the plot, let’s pretend!! i know that it’s also hard to be private irl when you’re famous, but for the plot!!!! hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: typos, google translated spanish, and photos grabbed from pinterest

The humid air of Singapore clung to your skin as you made your way towards the garage, dressed to the nines. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement—Singapore Grand Prix was unlike anything you had ever experienced. You had been to countless film premieres and award shows, but this—this was a whole different world, definitely different from the glitz and glamor of Hollywood. The buzzing energy of the track, roaring of engines, flashing lights—it was exhilarating.

“¿Estás nervioso?” (You nervous?) your father asked, leaning close to be heard over the noise of the pit crew.

You are now in the Ferrari garage, standing beside your father, Carlos Sr., that was beaming with pride, he had the same confidence that Carlos has.

“Un poco.” (A little bit.) you admitted with a smile, glancing at the Ferrari cars as they prepared for the race. “Es diferente mirar desde casa. Esto se siente…más intenso.” (It’s different watching from home. This feels…more intense.)

He chuckled, “Espera a que se apague la luz. Vas a tener un espectáculo de verdad.” (Just wait until the lights go out. You’re in for a real show.) he patted your shoulder. “Él va a ganar, lo sé.” (He’s going to win, I just know it.) he added.

You glanced up at him, can’t help but feel proud and worried at the same time. “¿Eso crees?” (You think so?) he chuckled, “Lo sé. Hoy está en su elemento.” (I know so. He’s in his element today.)

You had never attended a Grand Prix before, even though you had always supported him. This will be your first time, your first rodeo. He had insisted—well, practically begged you to come, and how could you say no? He has been begging you to come to a race for years. But between your filming schedules and your desire to keep your personal life private, it never seemed like the right time. Carlos respected that, but this year, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, he was almost about to put you inside his luggage and bring you over to Singapore to watch his race. So here you were, nervously excited, surrounded by the very world you kept at arm’s length. You are finally here.

The race had started, and from the garage, you had a perfect view of the monitors, watching Carlos fight for every position on the track. The tension was really high, but you found yourself completely immersed, cheering for every overtake he does, and your heart racing every time he was close to another car. Your father, who was typically stoic, was even more animated than usual, shouting every word of encouragement in Spanish every few minutes.

Then, as the laps wound down, it became clear—Carlos was going to win the Singapore Grand Prix. The final lap felt like it lasted forever, but the moment he crossed the checkered flag in first place, the whole garage erupted in celebration. You jumped up, tears welling in your eyes as you hugged your father tightly. “He did it! He did it, papa!” You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion.

“He did,” your father agreed, holding you tight.

Carlos’ engineer spoke over the radio, “P1, mate, P1! Congratulations!”

You heard Carlos’ voice come through the speakers, breathless and filled with joy. “Vamos!” He shouted, “this one’s for my family!”

Your heart swelled with immense pride. This moment was everything—years of hard work, sacrifice, and support from your family all coming together. As the celebration in the garage died down and the post-race routines began, you were still in a daze, watching as Carlos made his way to the podium. The crowd roared when he lifted the trophy, and you couldn’t help but feel a lump in your throat, realizing how much he deserved this.

After the podium ceremony, you made your way back to the paddock lounge, where Carlos had asked you to meet him. But instead of Carlos, you bumped into someone else—Lando Norris, one of your brother’s best friends and fellow driver.

You recognized him, of course. Not only because he was one of Carlos’ best friends, but because you had always found him—well, very cute, and you admit that you have a crush on him. You had seen him hanging out with your brother—laughing, golfing, doing whatever boys do. But this was different. The way his eyes lingered on you, the slight smile tugging at his lips, the same way it was tugging on your heartstrings. It was almost as if he was waiting for a chance to talk with you.

“Hey,” Lando greeted with that familiar, cheeky smile. His curly hair peeking from the cap he was wearing backwards and all freshen up from the post podium ceremony. He looked every bit the charming guy you had always seen on TV.

“Oh, hi.” You replied, feeling a little shy but amused at his relaxed demeanor after such an intense race.

“So, what do you think? Your first Grand Prix,” he asked, leaning casually against the wall.

“It was…unbelievable,” you admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life. Watching Carlos from the garage was intense. Also, congrats on winning P2.”

“Thank you,” Lando chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a whole different ball game when you’re here in person. But you seemed to handle it well.”

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Slightly making yourself cringe on how you acted by doing it. “Well, I’ve had years of practice with Carlos, so I guess I’m used to the nerves.”

Lando’s eyes sparkled with interest as he leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering slightly. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask—how come no one ever knew you were his sister?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?” You teased, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

Though you were a household name from your breakout role in The Princess Diaries that catapulted your acting career to success, most people had no idea you were a Sainz—the Sainz of Spain, youngest sister to Carlos Sainz Jr., the F1 racer and daughter to Carlos Sainz Sr., the World Rally Champion. Wikipedia was also no use for those people who are trying to dig for information about you, and Carlos, being the ever-protective older brother, had made sure of that. There were some fans that had been theorizing for years, speculating how you looked strikingly like Carlos, but no one had ever confirmed it.

“Not a problem,” Lando replied with a grin. “Just surprising. You’ve kept a pretty low profile considering…well, you’re you.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, I like to keep things private. My life in the film industry is one thing, but family is…different. I didn’t want my career to overshadow Carlos or distract him from his achievements.”

Lando nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s fair. But I have to say, the resemblance is pretty obvious once you know. You’ve got those Sainz eyes.”

“Well, maybe that’s why some fans figured it out.” You chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes at his remark.

He laughed, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, noting how his usual playful aura seemed softer now, more genuine. You had always thought that Lando’s very cute, but seeing him up close like this made you realize how effortlessly charming he was.

“So,” Lando said, breaking the silence, “what are the chances that I’ll see you at more races? Or is this just a one-time thing?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m not sure yet. But after today, who knows? Maybe?”

“Good. I’d hate for this to be the last time we run into each other.” He grinned, eyes lighting up.

Before you could even respond, Carlos appeared, already freshened up, face glowing with triumph. “There you are!” He called out, pulling you into a big hug. “What did you think? It being your first race and I won! I told you it was worth coming.”

“It was incredible,” you said, beaming up at him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Were you bothering my sister, Norris?” Carlos turned to Lando, smirking at him.

Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just keeping her company until you showed up.”

“Just remember Lando, I’m watching you.” Carlos narrowed his eyes playfully before shaking his head. Lando laughed but didn’t deny the subtle implication.

“I think your sister’s the good luck charm. You should keep bringing her.” Lando nudged Carlos playfully.

“Don’t get any ideas, mate.” Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, but there was a protective glint in his eyes as he glanced between you and Lando.

You blushed at Carlos’ teasing, but couldn’t help feeling the warmth of Lando’s gaze still being on you. He tilted his head slightly, giving you a smile that made your stomach flip.

“Maybe we can get you on the golf course next time,” Lando suggested, eyes twinkling with amusement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You think I could handle it?”

“I have a feeling you can handle anything.” Lando chuckled. Before you could respond, Carlos stepped in, clearly trying to steer the conversation away.

“Alright, alright. Let her breathe, mate. She’s already had enough excitement for one day.”

Lando’s gaze flicked back to you for a brief moment before Carlos whisked you away to join the team in celebrating his win, not forgetting to congratulate Lando again on his P2 and inviting him for the after party. But even as Carlos guided you back towards the Ferrari team, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something.

As the night went on, the excitement from Carlos’ victory still buzzing in the air, but you couldn’t help but glance at Lando from across the room, catching him watching you a few times too. The way Lando had looked at you, the way his smile had lingered—it was sweet, cute. Despite Carlos’ best efforts, something tells you that this is not the last time that you’ll be crossing each other’s path. You had a feeling you’d be seeing more of Lando soon.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, landonorris, imrebeccad, and 2,759,937 others

tagged: carlossainz55 and landonorris

ynsainz congrats you goobers!!! first grand prix experience and what a way to start—celebrating my brother’s big win at the singapore grand prix! 🏆💥 couldn’t be more proud of you!! here’s to many more moments like these ❤️

primera experiencia de grand prix y qué manera de empezar celebrando la gran victoria de mi hermano en el singapore grand prix! 🏆💥 no podría estar más orgulloso de ti!! a muchos más momentos como estos ❤️

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username1 I KNEW IT!!! I ALWAYS KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING FAMILIAR ABOUT YOU!!!

scuderiaferrari thank you for gracing us with your presence, amelia mignonette thermopolis renaldi, queen of genovia! ❤️✨ ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz my pleasure! thank you very much for having me ❤️

carlossainz55 thank you, you goober!! can you now follow me back since everyone already knows that you’re my little sister 😶‍🌫️ ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz no

carlossainz55 😐😐😐😐

ynsainz OMG FINE!! STOP TEXTING ME!!!

username2 i haven’t realize that y/n is not following back carlos 😭

username3 THOSE THEORIES HAD NOW FINALLY BEEN CONFIRMED

username4 the eyes chico, they never lie. Y/N GOT THOSE SAINZ EYES

landonorris thank you for the photo, had fun meeting you. can’t wait to see you again on the next race 😉 ♥︎ liked by the author

carlossainz55 what do you think you’re doing? 😐😐😐😐😐😐

ynsainz you’re welcome! had fun meeting you as well.

username5 lando need to conquer the great wall of carlos sainz before he can reach y/n

username6 sainz family genes really hit different, huh?

charles_leclerc nice to meet you, y/n! you should come to races more often. ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz nice to meet you too, charles! maybe i should. it was really fun!

username7 saw photos of y/n and lando talking at the paddock, can’t believe that they look so cute together 🥹

username8 are we about to lose our queen to someone that drives a car in circles every sunday? /sad violin noises 😔💔

username9 MAAM HOW U HAD MANAGED TO KEEP THIS ALL A SECRET IS BEYOND ME 😭😭😭

username10 the fact that y/n raised a whole generation with the princess diaries. oh the QUEEN that you are. queen shit only!!!

imrebeccad finally!!! it’s about time you attend a grand prix!!! had so much fun with you!!! ♥︎ liked by the author

ynsainz was about to ditch in attending, but carlos was threatening me that he’ll stuff me inside his luggage so that i can watch him race 😐😂 ♥︎ liked by imrebeccad

username10 carlos didn’t hide y/n, he protected us from losing our collective minds KSKDJKSDK

username11 carlos out here playing chess while we’re playing checkers

username12 we NEED a tell-all interview IMMEDIATELY!!! 🗣️

username13 sainz family is so blessed with beauty AND talent. pls adopt me 🤲🏻

username14 well played, carlos sainz. well played 👏🏻

username15 been telling my friends that the resemblance between you and carlos was TOO strong, but they thought that i was crazy, HA!

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undreaming-fanfiction · 6 months

Text

As a crazy cat lady, may I offfer...

Eddie who has always loved cats, how free and soft and elegant they are, how they purr and close their eyes in affection, how they make him forget all his worries and stress. He's loved them ever since a neighbor's cat found him crying behind the trailer after he got bullied for his new haircut, the last gift from his shitty dad before Eddie got whisked away by the social services. The cat ignored his sniffling and jumped in his lap, plopping herself over the bony knees and thin thighs, and when she started rubbing her face against his scraped palm, Eddie felt complete.

He can't adopt one yet because he lives with Wayne who is allergic. Wayne offers to take antihistamines but Eddie refuses, he doesn't want to inconvenience him in his own home. Still, he dreams of one day sometime in the future, a small apartment of his own and at least two cats who will greet him when he comes home.

Eddie finds himself volunteering in a shelter and when a new cat café opens, he jumps at the opportunity. He is hired and spends his days taking of their cat ensemble and preparing delicious coffees. Cats help him be less jittery and more grounded, so it's a win win. Eddie loves this job.

Enter Steve Harrington, an insanely handsome man who stops by to make a reservation. Eddie is his usual flirty self, although he expects Steve will bring a date and that's the end of that. But then Steve leans to Eddie and asks: "Listen, uh...I will need some help."

Suppressing an internal groan, Eddie asks: "what, do you need me to drop an engagement ring into the coffee or something? Because can do, but it needs to be sanitized first."

"Oh no. Not that, no..." Steve runs his fingers through his hair and even though it looks like a nervous gesture, Eddie is seconds away from a cuteness induced nosebleed. "Not at all. I just...I have a little sister, you know? I mean, my adoptive dad is fostering her and she's the kindest girl you've met, but she had it rough in her original family. Apparently there was something involving animals and...she loves cats so much, but is terrified of hurting them. She would never!" he clarifies when he sees a frown forming on Eddie's forehead. "It's just that whenever she showed affection to any animal, her biological father made sure it would get hurt or at least chased away. And that's gone, that man is in jail and I just...I want to show her that it's okay to love animals again. That she can pet a purring cat without worrying about its safety."

Eddie just stares at him with mouth open. "That's...wow," he says. "Sorry. Processing."

Steve does the hair thing again and laughs and Eddie thinks that this man deserves a brother of the year award, yep, he'll ask Gareth to 3D print one right fucking now. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you, but I had to be honest because this is a big deal to her. To me as well. Just...listen, I like cats a lot, but I'm not the best at interpreting what they mean, their body language and all that. And I really need Jane to have someone here that can tell her what to do, when she's doing a good job...someone who will protect the kitties if she messes up. Her words. I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

But Eddie shushes him. "Say no more, big boy. I'll be here and I'll give the young lady the cat experience of a lifetime."

Eddie used to think he couldn't love his job any more. But with Jane's uncertain smile and big eyes, her incredulous squeal when a cat chose her for the first time, when she kept asking Eddie for specifics of each cat in his care - "which one is more shy, which one likes to be picked up, which one is a picky eater?" - he thinks he's finally found his calling. Steve beams at him and comes back the next day with a bag of approved cat treats for the cats and a box of chocolates for Eddie as a thank you, then asks him out for a dinner - "if that is even appropriate, shit, sorry, I don't want you to feel pressured or something, this is your job, I get it, but I just really admire you and you were amazing to Jane, uh, and the stuff you say about cats is so interesting I'd just love to hear more". Eddie's heart flutters like the traitor it is and he thinks - maybe this is someone I could adopt a cat with one day.

And unsurprisingly, he's right.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eleven stranger things #jane hopper #steddie au #cat cafe au #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE PARAGRAPH FFS

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cieloclercs · 1 year

Note

congrats on your 1K you deserve it‼️‼️

when you have the time could you write for lewis hamilton + nepo!reader ( male or female ) who is an actress / actor?

king of my heart — lewis hamilton

pairing. lewis hamilton x nepo baby!actress!reader

genre. social media au

face claim. gigi hadid

warnings. mentions of age gap, swearing, some online hate, lewis and reader are literally the hottest couple ever, daniel lowkey trolling lando, sex jokes ??, mixed up met gala years sorryyyy, some inaccuracies with race outcomes shshsh

author’s note. hello anon! thank you for being my first request for my 1k event 🥰 i wasn’t sure if you wanted an imagine style thing or not so i’ve gone for a social media au. hope that’s ok ! if not just let me know and i can redo this for you <3

liked by kaiagerber and 4,739,725 others

yourusername when he takes you on a romantic getaway to a private beach island after being away for a month 🥹🥹 lewishamilton i love u bby 💕

view all comments…

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*lewishamilton liked this comment

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*lewishamilton liked this comment

username lewis out here defending y/n from the haters 🥹 where can i find a man like that??

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*zendaya, yourusername and 5,736 others liked this comment

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liked by yourusername and 59,136 others

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username no need for the negativity honey, lewis still isn’t going to fuck you x

*yourusername liked this comment

username SHE DID NOT 😭😭 WHAT AN ICON

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lewishamilton The happiest 4 years with my Queen 🤍 Here’s to forever x

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Four

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.2K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

Something hit her window.

It was the middle of the night, and the object wasn't big enough to cause any damage to her window, but it did wake her up. Her body jolted as she opened her eyes, not quite realising where she was right away.

Her father's house. She was in her fathers house. Her breathing evened out as she remembered that.

When she sat up, something hit her window again. She switched her bedside lamp on and pulled her cardigan over her body. Wrapping it up tight around her body, she walked over to the window.

"Oh, no way," she whispered and pulled the window open. Leaning out, she looked down at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He grinned at her, his smile cheeky yet award winning. "I have barely seen you since you got here!" He shouted up to her. "I wanted to hang out!"

It must have been freezing out there. And, yet, Lando wasn't wearing a shirt. She had no idea how he was standing out there, how he wasn't freezing.

Suddenly, Lando looked to the left. "It's your dad!" He hissed up to her. "Meet me around back in ten minutes!" And, just like that, he took off, running into the darkness.

She shut her window and sat on her bed. It was the middle of the night and Lando wanted to to hang out. He was crazy. She knew he was crazy, but it made her want to do it all the more.

A knock came from her door. Standing up, she pulled it open, coming face to face with her father.

"You know I never liked that Norris boy," he said as he stared down at her.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, dad," she said, leaning against the door frame. "I had no idea he was going to show up like this."

Toto raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to... hang out with him?" He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Would you be mad if I did?"

"You're in your twenties now," he said. Clearly he had no idea just how old she actually was, not well enough to know specifically. "You can do what you'd like."

She wore a small smile as she nodded. But, before she could shut the door and get dressed, Toto stopped her. "I'll have my phone on through the night. Text me if you need anything."

With those parting words, Toto returned to bed. He turned off the stairs light and crept back towards his bedroom.

She got dressed quickly and walked down the stairs, her footsteps light. She grabbed her keys from the hook and walked out of the back door.

In the darkness she could see nothing. "Lando?" She whispered, searching around. But she could see nothing. Nothing at all.

Suddenly, hands grabbed her from behind. She let out a shriek trying to push the hands off of her, but she was quickly being turned around. Quickly coming face to face with Lando Norris.

Even in the darkness, his eyes seemed to glow. She hit his muscled arm. "Asshole," she whispered. "You can't scare me like that."

"Sorry," he said, his smile still charming. "So, you wanna hang out or what?"

She rolled her eyes as she looked at him. "No, I'm out here in the middle of the night because I don't want to hang out." She placed her hand on her hip. "Seriously, what did you have in mind?"

Lando didn't say anything else. He held out his hand and she took it, trusting him completely. That was until he led her into the woods.

At the tree line she pulled her hand out of his. "C'mon Lando. I'm not going in there," she muttered and nodded her head towards the woods.

"You scared of the dark?" He challenged, grin teasing. But, when she glared, he dropped the grin. "C'mon," he said and held up his arm, flexing his muscle. "You know I'll protect you."

She rolled her eyes but allowed Lando to pull her into the woods.

He led her around the trees like he could see in the dark. He didn't take her too far in and, before she knew it, they were stopping. Lando made a drum roll noise with his mouth and pointed up. "Here we are," he said.

"Here we are, where?"

But, when she looked up, she spotted it.

When they were kids, when she used to spend more time in town, Lando's father and her father had built them a tree house a little way into the woods. Back then they had gone to the tree house every day after school, but it must have been empty for years.

Lando started climbing the ladder, and she was quick to follow. When she got to the top Lando helped her up and switched on the battery powered torch that hung from the ceiling.

"Holy shit," she said as she looked around. There was the makeshift table they used to do homework on and the crates they used to sit on. It was incredible that it was still there, that it hadn't fallen into disrepair.

The new addition to the tree house was the crate of beer beneath the window. Lando grabbed a can from the crate and passed it to her. "Drink with me?"

So, they drank as they talked. Lando told her what he could of his life over the last few years and she told him everything. When something in the woods howled (something Lando could identify as Daniel), she visibly stiffened up. But Lando wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"Do you know Oscar Piastri?" She asked as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Lando sucked in a breath. He didn't want to tell her about the run ins he'd had with Oscar, couldn't tell her, in fact. "Heard of him," he answered and took a sip of his drink. He wouldn't get drunk, couldn't get drunk.

"He's taking me out to dinner," she said, a small smile crossing her features. "I can't wait."

Lando let out a breath through his head. He shook his head as it dropped forward. "Be careful around him," he said. "Please. I don't know him too well, but I do know some of the people he hangs with. They're... not great. Promise me you'll call me if anything happens."

"I promise," she said and finished her beer. "I can't believe we're still here, still in the tree house," she muttered as she ran her fingers up and down his arm.

Lando wasn't about to tell her that he was the reason the tree house was still standing. He didn't tell her that, when there was a hole in the roof, he was the one to fix it. He made the floor stable and reinforced the walls. It was the only piece of property he had on the packs land. On his first transformation it had been is safe place. (There was still bits of fur attached to nails).

Lando ran hot, hot enough to help put her to sleep. Well, it was a combination of that and the alcohol in her system. Lando tightened his arm around her as she slept against him. He pushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

He'd watch over her while she went on her date with Oscar. He'd protect her, even if it meant breaking the treaty.

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littybeech · 4 months

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Ten things the Twilight animated series can do better than the original movies (if they care enough to, please add all your own points to this as I will, too.) :

1. Include ALL of the book scenes, without having to change them to make them easier to film (for obvious reasons, since it’ll be animated they shouldn’t have much issue there.)

2. Their daughter, Remoulade can actually look like the book described her (or better or worse) and not the CGI monstrosity we got twelve years ago.

3. Make all the characters fit their book looks to complete accuracy. Alice was 4’10 and the movies made her 5’5. They let Edward have brown hair when he’s a ginger. Jacob and the wolf pack had better be above 6’5! I want 23 year old Carlisle and 26 year old Esme playing parents to like three legal adults and two 17 year olds.

4. The parentification of Bella Swan, by both of her parents, mustn’t be ignored. Bella was making sure the bills were getting paid by the time she was 10 cause her mom was ‘too flighty and distracted’ to do things like that consistently, she also learned to cook and clean early on too because her mom’s cooking was inedible and she’d improperly mix cleaning solutions dangerously. She got a job at 14 and took care of the groceries and any other issue necessary on top of being in AP classes in school. By the time she moved in with Charlie, she was basically more of a parent than he was. He did the bare minimum to ensure her car’s safety by installing snow chains on her tires without telling her and she cried because she wasn’t used to being taken care of.

5. How she cries when she’s angry is peak girlhood and I hate that they got rid of that in the movies. She stomped her feet bro, like c’mon she was so angry and anxious and annoyed all the time and they only focused on her angst.

6. Integrate aspects of Midnight Sun too, maybe incorporate them both so we can get a more full story. Twilight on its own was a bit of a snooze fest compared to Midnight Sun. We’re gonna pretend that Edward hunting and eating Esme’s abusive ex-husband isn’t hot af?

7. Add in more character’s back stories. Alice’s abusive father and stepmother, Emmett’s gambling and womanizing as a human in Tennessee, etc.

8. Unfortunately we need to make it clear that Charlie’s not winning any father of the year awards here either. He congratulated Jacob after forcing a kiss on her and joked about Jacob pressing assault charges on her after she breaks her hand punching him away.

9. Maybe ask why the Cullens…’need’ so desperately to come back to Forks every couple of years? Like they’re multi-billionaires, they’re immortal and there are plenty of gloomy, cloudy places they could live in semi-permanently. Why Forks when they know the Quileutte tribe knows what they are and they know it makes them so uncomfortable? It just seems unnecessary.

10. More of Edward reading Mike Newton’s inner-monologue. I know it would depend on whose perspective we get but I think the idea is hilarious.

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barzzal · 3 months

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call me crosby → part six

summary: Young, reckless, and rash, an unplanned pregnancy causes a massive rift in your relationship with then, cup-hungry 27 year-old Sidney Crosby. As he gets caught up in his own childish and selfish ways, confused to what was once certain, he lets you struggle alone. His absence reasons a miscarriage scare that leads you to end the relationship. Years after losing you, having to live a life that’s surrounded with the families his friends have built through the years embodies his greatest regret. Now with three cups and tons of awards at his disposal, Sid is given a chance to right his wrongs and win what was once the biggest loss of his life.

pairing: sidney crosby x fem!reader gen. warnings: language and theme, co-parenting, mentions of pregnancy & false miscarriage, sexual/suggestive themes, 18+ ch. warnings: parenting, tantrums, and a tad bit of angst genre: hockey rpf, fluff, angst, kid-fic, exes to lovers length: series; 5.2k masterlist: the barn, series masterlist

note: REALLY hoping i get to finish this while on my uni break. This was supposed to be posted on father's day but ya girl was on a trip i had to make most of it yk! Also, do note that the italicized part is a quick flashback. Anyway, happy reading! <3 (gif used: mine)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. teasers, interviews, events, and the like that are included in the series are purely made for fictional purposes and do not/should not represent any of the names involved in real life. please proceed with caution.

Two words. Terrible twos.

It was one of the things your mom has told you about raising a child of your own. It was a stage full of tantrums and frustrations; one you’ve never dealt with before. You were told that it was overwhelming, that you have to prepare yourself mentally and physically for it. However, your son, as the marvel child that he is, was so good at that age that you need not have to worry about it.

Well, not until a few years later.

“Mommy, please!” Luke wails in frustration from the living room.

He has been asking for a little more screen time watching his show instead of doing his homework. And be that as it may, he has been adamant about not getting what he wanted.

This has been going on for a couple of weeks, following Luke’s realization of not getting to play much of hockey. Frankly, as well as not seeing much of Sidney.

“Honey, you’ve been watching for almost two hours. That’s enough.” you say, massaging your temple as you walk towards where he is, trying not to lose your temper.

You and your son have always been in sync. You have not really had the chance to reprimand or give him a good scolding. Lucas is a fairly calm child right from the beginning. To say the least, dealing with his temper tantrums now is a lot harder than you’ve prepared for.

You see him sitting on the couch holding the remote tightly. His cheeks are still evidently damp from all the crying. You know he’s bound to strain his voice just by looking at him.

“Two hours is not enough!” he appeals. Just like you thought, his voice is now nearly gone from all the screaming. “Please, I want my TV!”

It is during times like this where you have to try harder as a mother. You know it will not always be rainbows with Luke. But despite your efforts to ensure that he would be able to express himself when you greatly need it, you can’t blame a child for not knowing exactly how he feels nor the reason for it. You just wish he’d be able to let you know even just a little. At least then, you could make it all better.

“Baby,” you endearingly call for him as you approach.

With a soft smile on your face, you caress his hair. Your hands then fall to his cheeks so as to wipe his tears away.

“You’ve already watched a lot of episodes today...” you carefully work your way in; gently reminding him of his acquired screen time.

Frustratingly, Luke’s voice breaks as he tries to tell you he wasn’t going to watch any more episodes of Paw Patrol and the new Lego Spiderman.

“Then what were you trying to watch?” you ask him with the same nurturing voice.

You see Luke shoot a glance over the screen that you’ve already turned off half an hour ago.

Yes, this has been going on for that long.

“Mkay, you may turn it on so you can show me.”

There comes a glint of hope in his eyes the moment he hears you. You fight the urge to chuckle, finding it quite adorable.

Luke, now standing on his feet, finds the red power button and points it towards the television. Once it’s turned on, the thumbnail of a show greets you; one that you least expected– one that you clearly were not ready for.

“So tell us guys, how can we make hockey more fun?” said the last voice you wanted to hear.

Sid and Nathan in their respective jersey’s for a commercial a few years back comes into view. You know that it was one of his brand commitments that he still does to this day. You were just not aware that Tim Horton’s apparently had this particular video uploaded for everyone to see.

As you watch the clip turn over to a handful of kids skating towards the two famed athletes, you make the mistake of taking the remote from your son to pause the short youtube clip quite hastily. You inevitably surprise him with your reaction thereby scaring him.

Upon deducing that you were upset by the show that he has chosen, Luke begins to cry even harder than before.

Alarmed, you put away the remote and reached for him. You let him fall in your arms whilst he buried his face in your chest.

“I’m sorry, baby. Mommy didn’t mean that.” you try to convince him, caressing his head. You feel disgusted with yourself because you know this is not the way you wanted this moment to unfold.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mommy.” Luke says in between his sobbing. He hugs you tighter whilst in a heaping mess.

“Hush, it’s okay.” you comfort him. “I’m sorry too.”

You let him cry himself out. It may be heartbreaking for you, but you couldn’t think of any other way to help your seemingly helpless child. The only thing you could offer him is the assurance that you will always be by his side when he needs you.

You know that the overwhelming surge of emotion he’s feeling now is quite new for him. Dealing with his outburst may be tough on your end, but you can’t even imagine how much harder it must have been for a child to be utterly clueless as to why he is crying.

Swiftly, just like you used to do when he was a baby, you sway your body whilst Luke stays in your embrace. Once Luke’s breathing begins to calm down, you lovingly caress his back; deciding to try again.

“How are you feeling, darling?”

Luke doesn’t utter a word. However, you feel him move even closer to your body as if there was any space left. You tighten your hold on him as you place a kiss atop his forehead.

“Mommy’s not mad at you, okay?”

With what you assume is the last of his sobs, Luke quietly replies, “Okay…”

He breaks away from your hold and looks you in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a reassuring smile, “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to scare you, honey.”

You plant a wet kiss atop his nose, making him giggle.

“May I know why you wanted to watch more TV?” you ask.

When you see a hint of hesitation on his demeanor you add, “I’m not upset. I promise. Go on, you can tell me.”

“Sidney…”

“Do– Do you miss him?” you ask hesitantly, afraid to hear what his answer might be.

Your son nods, “Uh-huh.”

Of course.

Luke continues, “He said… he’s going to play with me when he comes back.”

“Where is he, Mom? Why isn’t he back?”

“I…” you struggle. You didn’t know how to tell him that this was all because of your doing. “I don’t know, honey.”

Luke looks at you with his little eyes, all too tired from crying. “Doesn’t he wanna play with me?”

You shake your head, determined not to put thoughts in his head that could be a detriment as to how he saw Sidney. Funny how you still instinctively did things for Sidney’s sake.

“Of course, he does, sweetheart. He’s just—”

Your son interrupts, “He’s just what?”

You caress his cheek as you say, “He needed to take care of some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

You hum, playing with his hair. “Stuff like what Mom also has to take care of sometimes.”

You think of an example. “Like, when I leave you with Aunt Claire for a little while, you remember?”

He looks up at you with enthusiasm in his voice when he says, “Aunt Claire always gives me M&Ms.”

You give him a warm and knowing smile. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Your son continues, “She also gives me candy when you come back.”

“Yes! See– I always come back, right?” you begin to explain. “Sidney’s gonna come back too, honey. It’s just taking a while. We need to wait a bit longer.”

Luke tilts his head, “Longer?”

“Yes, right. Can you do that? Can you wait a little more for Sidney?”

Once again, only with a discernible smile spreading on his lips, your son nods.

“Are you gonna wait for him too?”

It takes a few seconds before you are able to answer.

“Yes. I am also waiting for him.”

𖥸

Days have gone and your son stayed true to his words. He’s waiting patiently for Sidney.

In the meantime, Luke has shifted his focus on his art albeit not entirely off hockey given that most of his drawings were of hockey sticks, pucks, and the Pittsburgh Penguins logo.

You no longer mind for as long as he is, for lack of a better term, distracted. You and Sidney have remained in no contact with one another and it is highly likely to remain the same. You may have kept in touch with Cath and Anna but neither of them gave you word as to how Sidney was doing. Surely, they were thinking you did not really care for it. Did you?

You sigh, watching your son soundly asleep as he takes his afternoon nap. Days have been quite easier ever since the night you last saw Sidney. But you have to admit, seeing your son’s room now reminds you of him. You would have easily shut down the idea of having Sidney taint the corners of your home with his presence; particularly your son’s room. It would have easily aggravated you, perhaps fuel the hate you have for him even more. How come you don’t? How come what you feel instead is the void in your gut that is melancholy.

Quietly, you shut the door of your son’s room to let him rest.

You have been pondering as to how to remedy your situation with Sidney but alas, nothing came close to a practicable and civil reconciliation. You knew full well that co-parenting would be hard given the fact that it was one of the reasons why you chose to be your son’s only parent. You just fell short of realizing how it will equally be as hard on you. As much as you’d give every fiber of your being to be the best Mother you can be to your child, it kills you to acknowledge that Luke needs someone other than you, even more so that it inevitably means him needing his father.

Perhaps Sidney isn’t the only one who had a hand in everything falling apart. ‘Perhaps’ is a little far fetched but a mere inkling would suffice. You are not yet ready to acknowledge you had your share in the wrongs that make up this little broken family of yours.

You were putting away Luke’s plushies in his toy bin when you heard the doorbell ring. You place the bin on the floor before you make your way to the front door. It was unusual given that you were not really expecting anyone to drop by. The only close friends you have in the city would not be so careless in doing so for obvious reasons.

You take a quick glance on the doorbell camera and your heart immediately sinks.

Of all the people you’d expect to be waiting at the other side of the door, she would be the last one.

The moment you opened the door you were welcomed with eyes as blue as the ocean back home, hair that is as gold as the afternoon sun, and a smile that’s entirely identical to Sidney’s and your son’s.

Close to losing all the words you know, you were able to say one name.

“Taylor.”

She wastes no second, “Is it true?”

You see Taylor’s eyes wander off to Luke’s toy bin sitting idly near the staircase. The discerning look on her face let you know she no longer needed an answer.

“Come in.” you say.

Quiet and unsettling air sits as you invite Sidney’s sister inside your home. You did not really know where to begin. The best thing you can do now is to lead her to your living room, offer some tea, and sit in silence.

“Can I get you anything? I might have some tea lying around.” you say, offering formalities.

Taylor gives you a tight-lipped smile. Reserved. You get it. You would be too if you recently learned you had a nephew.

“Water would be nice.” she replies.

You give her a swift nod just as you tell her, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You turn on your heels and make your way towards the kitchen with cold hands and a pounding heart. Sitting with Sidney’s sister for afternoon tea isn’t exactly what you had in mind spending your time off work.

Needless to say, you prolong the trip to the kitchen and back to the living room. You need to buy yourself some time to process what’s about to happen.

Upon your return, you see Taylor looking at the photo wall you’ve created through the years. The very same one you caught Sidney looking at the first time you invited him over.

When the two of you catch each other’s gaze, you offer Taylor an apologetic smile. It’s true. You now realize how your new life — your growth looked like through the eyes of your old friends. A harsh reminder that none of them are in it.

You and Taylor were good friends ever since Sidney brought you to Halifax to meet his folks. You always had a hard time warming up to people you barely know, but with Taylor… well, she made it so easy.

If only she knew of the things you’ve gone through subsequent to the better parts of your life with her brother. Maybe then, she’d understand.

The two of you utter each other’s names at once, immediately stopping upon realization.

You gladly let Taylor know she could continue what she was about to say. After all, you know she has nothing but questions that only you could answer.

The first thing she asks is, “What happened?”

You begin to explain. You tell her about the first time you knew you were pregnant, the moment you told Sidney, and how things unraveled shortly after that. You spared her no detail of what has come and gone; the years that flew by so quickly and dreadfully slow at the same time.

“I didn’t know things were that hard,” she says apologetically, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you pause, “I knew Sidney felt alone.”

With kind eyes, Taylor replies, “So were you.”

Taylor has always been on your side despite being Sidney’s sister. She knew how difficult her brother can be. After all, she grew up with him.

You sigh because what she said was true. You and Sidney were alone together. But regardless of the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t want to let Sidney feel as alone as you felt when he left you. Maybe that’s why you inadvertently left Taylor out of the mess just so Sidney felt he still had someone on his side.

“At the time everyone blamed him for not wanting a child.” you begin, “I knew that if I told you, you’d feel the same as I do. I didn’t want him to feel that his sister was against him too.”

“Listen,” she says, “When Sid told me, I swore that I was gonna come up here and be mad at you… but for years, I’ve seen how the game ate up most of the Sid I knew. So I guess, I couldn’t really blame you.”

“I only did what I thought was the best for us.” you say honestly, “I just didn’t think the repercussions of my action would bring us into this much mess.”

It’s true. The life you pictured with your son excluded Sidney, but you should have known that what Claire told you was right the moment you came back to Pittsburgh with your son. Sure, the first year went by so blissfully. But you have forgotten yet another circumstance you should have known before you dealt another card: Luke.

Luke is growing up exactly how you dreamt him to be. A boy who has a mind of his own. You cannot really expect him to go along your every plan if he’s already becoming his own person, can you?

You hate yourself for it. However, you’ll hate yourself even more if you deprive him of something he is entitled to have no matter how much you’re against it.

Taylor stayed for a while. You spend the time showing her memories you’ve made with Luke. You showed pictures of your son as a newborn, the many birthday parties you have thrown for him, even the ones you have taken of him playing hockey. Taylor savored every bit of the nephew she could get to know. The only thing left now is to finally meet him.

With nothing but a humble heart you hold Taylor’s hand and say, “I’m really sorry.”

Taylor puts her hand on top of yours, giving it a squeeze. “I understand.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

“I do,” she gives you a warm smile, “but not when you and Sidney have yet to patch things up.”

You let go of her hand and sigh. You understood what she wanted you to do. For the first time, you wanted the same thing too.

“I’ll talk to him.”

𖥸

July has been warming up the city but your words still rang in Sidney’s ears as if it had just been uttered.

“I’m done.”

As hard as it was to admit, Sidney knew that the article was the final nail in the coffin — the final string that would make him understand why you had to keep his son away from him. Just like all the other times, you were right. He had always been less of a man much like all the others.

He couldn’t wrap his head around how he managed to screw things up worse than he already had even when he was barely making any progress. Perhaps, it was foolish of him to think he can still make it work. After all, what more remedy could he do to the very thing you have long buried six feet under?

Instead, what he did was go home to Halifax days subsequent to the release of the controversial article. The last thing he wanted was attention so he did the sanest thing he could think of: renovate his lake shed.

Apart from the fact that it was the off-season, Sidney could not see himself staying in his Pittsburgh home. The night you ended the attempt to co-parent with him only reminded Sidney of the time he foolishly thought he had already purged out of his system. It was as if he had been brought back to the night he was told his child was gone.

“Please don’t end us.” he says, knees already on the cold hospital floor. “Please don’t make me leave.”

Sidney feels your grip on his hand tighten as an attempt to break off his hold, but before you can do so, the door to your room opens to reveal Kris and Geno rushing to take Sidney away from you.

“Sidney,” he hears Geno call his name.

He didn’t budge. He wasn’t going anywhere without you. He knew you needed him. He understood what had to be done. A little too late, but he’s here now.

“Y/N-”

“Sid,” Kris places a hand on his shoulder just as he firmly says, “let her rest.”

It was the least Sidney could do. To let you be — as he had easily done so when it was the last thing you wanted.

Sidney came back to the hospital with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. He walked the halls with hope only to find out you were no longer there. He had been cut off as soon as Kris and Geno walked him out of your hospital room — the last time he was ever going to see you.

He waited for hours sitting on the lobby bench beside your hospital room. If it were not for the next patient arriving to occupy the room, Sidney would not have probably left.

The days he spent in your shared home haunted him of the days he had left you alone in it waiting for him to come home. The house he had built with his fame and successes have now become a constant reminder of what a failure it really was.

Sidney sighed once he finished a glass of water. He absent mindedly places it atop the counter as his eyes remained in focus at a photograph placed on his refrigerator. It had been a while since he last saw it. After all, he only gets to go home during the off season.

He walks towards the fridge and takes the photo in his hand. It was the first sonogram you had of your son. The one you dread having to leave when you finally had the courage to leave Sidney, but the last possession Sidney has of the life he could have been living.

With eyes now glistening with impending tears, Sidney lightly rubs his thumb on the picture — what was once a tiny little peanut has grown to become a boy Sidney could no longer keep out of his mind. He’s hurting at the fact that he misses you — but his heart aches at the thought of Luke eventually forgetting about him. Sidney knows he’s going to be yet another random ‘Mr.’ at a camp that happened to teach him a sport he will grow up to forget eventually. All those memories Sidney will bring with him to his deathbed will surely be forgotten by the time the tiny little peanut graduates from college.

Who else could he blame for the life he’s now living however miserable it may be? You offered him this life with your own life on the line. Sidney did nothing but toss it aside because he was set on his ways. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Perhaps, that’s what he should bring to his deathbed.

Sidney’s self-loathing was put into a halt when he heard a chime coming from his phone already buzzing on his kitchen counter.

He sees a message that almost had him on his knees.

Just below your name were the words he had least expected but mostly hoped to read, “Can we talk?”

𖥸

As soon as you were able to set a date, Sidney wasted no time and got in the next flight bound for Pittsburgh. Sidney had two days to prepare before meeting you and while that seemed like enough time to be able to think about what he’s going to say the moment he sees you, he could neither ascertain how to explain nor justify his shortcomings. So, he won’t.

Sidney watches your car pull over the driveway after having opened his gate. After the tedious two-day wait, you were back. Well, at least that’s what Sidney thought at the time. Because unlike him, it was not just two days — it has been six years.

Sidney was chivalrous enough to let a few seconds pass before he finally opened the door for you although to tell you the truth, he had been at the other side of it long before you rang the doorbell.

You follow Sidney’s steps as you make your way to the living room. Said walk was not like the others you used to thread on back when you were still together — it wasn’t so long and quiet. At least, it didn’t feel that way.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Sidney asks. The hoarseness in his voice strung along his words.

Has he been crying that much? His eyes were a bit tired. He hasn’t been sleeping. How come Kris said he was fine? But then again, Sidney has had quite a talent in putting up a facade. You catch him fiddling his thumb. When he sees where your eyes have been, Sidney immediately takes his hand into his pocket.

You immediately put your gaze elsewhere. “Uh, just water.”

As you scan the view that is Sidney Crosby’s home, one thing comes to mind: it looks nothing like Connor Mcdavid’s. Sidney’s was far more deserving to be featured in Architectural Digest. To hell with black and metal. This was a home.

Well, it is. Just not for Sidney.

Even if it was, a part of you knew Sidney would never parade his home for everyone else to see; let alone have it printed on a magazine.

Apart from the wood panels that fashioned the ceilings, everything else was unfamiliar. It was as if you never lived in it. He had new pieces displayed in various corners of the room. Some of it worth millions sitting idly beside or on top of worn out books like some mere paper weight.

Sidney also redid the floors. Neutral wide plank flooring. You thought that it was quite a bold choice considering the majority of the furniture you had before came in dark tones. But then, that made you realize Sidney also bought new furniture. He also changed a few fixtures, here and there. The white french sliding doors leading to the patio were now replaced with glass doors that had wood trimmings as well as the hallway leading to your old home office that now had interior glass doors. You notice tons of boxes you could see from the other side. Perhaps, he thought it would now be a good use for a storage space. After all, he had to fill in every bit of void you’ve left him with.

You tear your eyes away from the halls you used to frequent. Instead, you quietly follow Sidney’s footsteps. The house still had an open floor-plan. Sidney loved seeing everything at once. At least that hasn’t changed.

“Make yourself comfortable.” he says with a tight-lipped smile just as he turns towards the kitchen.

The cloud of uncertainty was still evident and heavy. To top it all, you were neither sure of what to tell him nor where to begin. Clearly, you should have bought yourself a bit more time before ringing his doorbell.

You hold your bag close to your chest once you’ve sat in Sidney's living room. You were wrong. The changes he made were drastic. His taste then was incomparable to how it is now. The Sidney you knew then wouldn’t be so meticulous as to what type of wood to use in his fireplace or what fabric to pick when it comes to throw pillows lining the couch. Hell, he wouldn’t have thought of having one — let alone five.

A quiet smile seeps in your lips. It’s nice that something good has come out of such an ugly chapter in your lives.

Your eyes catch a shade of blue and crimson red blankly displayed on the side of the room from where you were sitting. You feel a gnawing guilt resting in your guts as the painting comes into full view. You stand as your hand travels to your chest. It was a piece by Peter Doig called the “100 Years Ago”.

A man sits alone in a canoe in the middle of a quiet and still ocean. The man looks at you helpless and tired of what must have been an arduous journey. You meet his eyes, as if it were in desperate need of help. Your help. But then again, there’s an island waiting for him — even a house sitting on top of the hill. Couldn’t he just row his way and ask for help? Perhaps his inability to do so was due to the fact that he’d already gone to that house — maybe what it really was is just as empty as what he already had in the canoe.

As the eerily still piece settles before your eyes, you can’t help but think of what it must have been like to be the one that’s stuck. The man that was torn between two distances. To choose between whatever it was sitting before his eyes and the big island he can always call home.

“Hey.”

Sidney’s voice pulls you back to your feet.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” he says, two glasses of water in each hand.

“No, it’s all right.” you say.

“That–” you turn your gaze back to the painting before continuing, “That is something.”

Sidney gives a humble smile. “Thanks. I got it a couple of years back when I started renovating the place.”

It would be absurd to say that Sidney’s house has not changed since the last time you walked its halls. It did change. A lot. After all, you didn’t expect him to leave everything as it was; how you left it. Despite that, there was a little hope that Sidney did leave a bit of what might have reminded him of you untouched.

“So– listen, the reason why I came here.” you begin, hugging the glass with both your hands.

“I know. Taylor.” Sidney saves you the need to explain. “I’m sorry I told her. I wasn’t in my right mind the last couple of weeks.”

It’s true. He knew it must have been hard for you to tell Taylor everything. It was yet another reason for you to cut him completely out of your life, yet another rash decision, yet another failure. Sidney did what he could at the time and his only wish now is for you to understand. He had just lost you and his son twice. To have done otherwise would have made him lose his mind.

“No. It’s alright. She’s bound to know that she has a nephew.” you earnestly reply.

At this point, you have come to realize that you’ve been insufferable regardless of your own merits. Sidney thought he had lost a son. You couldn’t possibly deprive him of his own sister.

“How– how is he?” he asks, afraid of how he’ll be answered.

You look Sidney in his eyes just as you say, “He’s been missing you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Sidney takes in the new information as a quiet smile spreads on his lips. Luke misses him.

Seeing Sidney’s reaction brought you a sense of guilt and warmth only a parent could feel.

“Honestly, Taylor visiting isn’t really the reason why I’m here.”

His brows quirk and asks, “What do you mean?”

“I think…” you say, fighting yourself from refusing to tell Sidney the truth. The very truth that you’re still having a hard time accepting.

“I think it’s time to acknowledge– and for me to accept, that my son needs you.”

It’s the truth. It might have been hard for you given that Sidney was the root of it all, but you could no longer put up with the way you have been treating Sidney at your son’s expense. You may still have bits of resentment towards what once was but that doesn’t give you a right to deprive your son of his right. A part of you may still hate Sidney for the pain he caused you, but you could not bear the thought of your son hating his father because of your own doing.

Sidney is at a loss for words.

“Do you really mean that?”

He sees you nod.

You give him a reassuring smile.

“It’s one thing to keep a father away from his child, but it’s another to keep a child away from his father.”

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