#i really am not ready for this to end at all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pendingnomdeplume · 2 days ago

Text

hold me hard and mellow pairing: hozier x female!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Miscommunications/Misunderstandings, Pining, Drunk Flirting, Drunk Sex words: 4.0k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Pillowtalk by Zayn divider by: sylusz

Though your 30th birthday was months ago, it’s difficult to ignore some of the changes that aging has brought on. You’ve noticed a few new gray hairs sprouting where there were none before, and your cheeks have lost some of the cherubic plumpness that made you look like a high schooler attempting to swindle shops for alcohol every time you wanted a beer. These changes don’t bother you. In fact, you’re excited to look a little bit older, more like your actual age.

What catches your attention is entirely different. Something embarrassing, really. Something that you’ve been mildly self-conscious of while living in a giant, moving tin can with several other people and absolutely no privacy.

It takes exactly one Google search to confirm what you already started to suspect.

Why am I so aroused all the time???

The question marks aren’t necessary, but they feel right given how perplexed you are by this development. What’s returned is page after page of different threads and message boards, all filled with women over the age of 30 confirming that, yes, their libido also increased with age. In fact, it seems fairly commonplace for women to experience their sexual peak a little bit later in life.

While you’re relieved that this phenomenon isn’t unusual, you’re still frustrated by the fact that you feel insatiable. There’s absolutely no time to take care of yourself as often as you’d like, no space with enough privacy to even try. Your bunk on the tour bus is your only sanctuary, but even then, the curtains are easily ripped from their velcro tabs, and someone is always awake when you’re at your most desperate.

Hotel rooms aren’t any better. You always end up sharing the space, which you can’t begrudge anyone for, really. It’s a matter of pragmatism made up for by all of the other perks of touring with Hozier—or, Andrew, as he prefers from colleagues.

Therein lies your other issue: Andrew is currently the bane of your entire fucking existence. Not for any malicious reason, it’s just…well, you have eyes, and he’s an attractive lad. A kind lad. Funny, sensitive, talented—the list goes on. But he’s Hozier, for Christ’s sake. If he’s not a household name by now, he’s very well on his way with the release of “Too Sweet,” perhaps to his chagrin.

Honestly, it’s just a silly crush that you would handle a lot better were it not for the fact that you live within 20 feet of the man constantly. You’re either singing on stage behind him, or sitting a stone’s throw away from him on the bus. The only reprieve you get is on hotel nights, but even then, you’ve been dragged out for dinner and drinks on several occasions, somehow always ending up either seated directly across from him or squished into a booth next to him.

Recently, you’ve been trying to maintain a reasonable distance. You’ve stepped out of rooms he’s entered, hidden around corners as he strides by, and recused yourself from group outings for your own peace. It’s not as though anything would ever come of your crush, and it’s better to maintain space than force yourself into proximity to him and suffer at the hands of your own libido.

Honestly, you never expected him to take notice. Sure, he’s kind to you, and he’ll strike up a conversation with you when he’s in the mood, but otherwise, you’ve always thought of yourself as inconsequential. Not like Alex or Rory who have been with him since the beginning. Not like Larissa who enmeshes themself into the fold with their radiating energy and charm, nor Kamilah who is the human embodiment of glee.

Tonight is another night of planned avoidance. The group is getting ready to go out for dinner and enjoy their evening off before the show the next night. You’ve already declined the invitation in the group chat, already fended off Joy and Mel who follow you with exaggerated pouts and pleas. In the end, they respect your decision to stay behind and promise to bring something back for you.

With the next few hours to yourself, you curl up in bed and crack open the same book you’ve been attempting to read for the past few days—some fantasy novel with a gratuitous amount of steamy, spicy scenes that are…a little silly, if you’re being honest. But it’s fun, nearly brainless entertainment. A dessert of a novel, or perhaps the after-dinner mint.

A quiet, polite knock at the door startles you out of your reading not even 20 minutes later. You wonder if it’s Mel, if she forgot her damn room key again, and hop out of bed in your pajama shorts and tank top without another thought.

When you open the door, you’re surprised to find that it’s Andrew on the other side, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh, hey!” You greet, befuddlement obvious in your voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought you went out with everyone else.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling up for it tonight.”

“Ah.” There’s a few beats of silence as you stare at each other, until you finally ask, “Did…did you need something, or…?” Because, really, why the fuck is he here?

He’s quiet as he studies you, head tilting to one side. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his scrutiny before—at least, not that you’re aware of, anyway. It’s slightly intimidating, mostly because of his stature, but also because his attention is solely directed on you in a way you haven’t experienced previously.

Finally, he lets out a little huff and asks, “Are you avoiding me?”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open. You quickly snap it shut, a flush already making your ears go hot.

“No! Of course not! What gave you that impression?” Lies, lies, lies, but what are you supposed to say to a question like that?

Andrew looks rightfully unconvinced. “I just…haven’t seen you around lately.”

He noticed?

“Right, yeah, uh…” You flounder for a response, rubbing your clammy palms against your shorts. “I’ve just—I’ve been busy, y’know? With stuff. And things.”

“Stuff and things,” Andrew repeats back slowly with a half-smile.

You nod, smile tightly. “Mhm. Stuff and things. Matters, even! And, um…affairs. States of affairs.”

“Of course.” He nods sagely. “It just seems like one of those very important matters that you’re tending to might be avoiding me.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely. “It’s—I’m not—” You’re beginning to panic, trying to think of anything to get out of this conversation that doesn’t involve slamming the door in his face.

“Because you haven’t gone out with us in weeks,” he continues as you stammer. “And you’re fairly quick to leave any room that I enter. Or, is that just a coincidence?”

Annoyance buzzes beneath your skin.

“There have been stranger occurrences, I’m sure,” you reply evenly.

“Right. I’m sure.” He pulls a grimace of a smile, lips pressed together tightly as he knocks once on the doorframe before taking a step back. He almost looks dejected, though that’s probably just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re ready to close the door on him, ready to curl back up under the blankets and try to sleep off your embarrassment. Just as he begins to turn away, Andrew stops and turns back to you with a curious half-smile.

“Would you like to go down to the hotel bar with me, then?”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs easily, assuredly. “Since you’re not avoiding me, come down and get a drink with me.”

Anxiety grips your heart as your stomach flutters. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Being alone with Andrew under the influence of alcohol? You can only imagine that being a one-way ticket to a massive disaster that ends with you getting kicked off the tour entirely. God knows what dumb shite will spill out of your mouth the moment you start to feel loose.

His smile turns coy as he tilts his head. “Or I could always bring something up for you. They’ve a lovely wine list here.”

You swallow, searching his face as he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

Finally, you sigh and let your head rest against the doorframe. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Andrew laughs, shakes his head. “No. Unless you tell me to fuck off, of course.”

You can’t help but smile and shake your own head. “I would never. Can you give me a few minutes, though? I can’t go down looking like this.”

He waits outside like a gentleman, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiles as you reappear in clothes more suitable for a public setting—merely a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but it’s good enough for a booth in the dimly lit, fairly empty hotel bar.

You order a glass of blush wine, smirking when Andrew requests the bottle for the table instead.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” It’s light, airy, asked as a joke and nothing more.

Andrew looks at you with a sly tilt of his head. “Trying to find reasons for you to stay a while.”

The answer stuns you, your face going pink as you avoid the waiter’s amused expression.

He orders a glass of Woodford Reserve, neat. When the waiter drops it off, he holds it out to you for a taste, and you hold out your wine glass in turn. The whiskey is bitter, spicy, and makes you cough into the crook of your elbow as the amber liquid burns all the way down to your stomach.

“Good lord,” you splutter as he grins at you. “That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

You study him as he sips from your wine glass, as he tilts his head in thought and nods to himself assuredly before commenting that it’s actually quite good despite blush wines not being his thing.

“So…” you start, hands folded on the table as you level his stare.

“So…” he echoes as he rests his head in his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you. “Straight to it then, yeah?”

He shrugs, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s not typically how I operate.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, an exaggeration of his own mannerisms. “And what makes me the lucky one to be graced with your focus and attention?”

Andrew chuckles. “I think you’re trying to dodge my question.”

“And I think you’re trying to dodge mine.” You smirk before taking a sip from your glass.

There’s a brief pause as he studies your face. “Honestly? I think my ego is a little bruised.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues, “You can’t deny that you’re avoiding me, yeah? It’s been fairly obvious. And I…well, you've been on my mind, is all.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. He’d been thinking of you? Apparently so, and often enough that he’s not only noticed the distance you’ve maintained from him, he’s actually hurt by it. The thought of hurting him at all makes your chest feel tight.

“It’s not personal,” you say weakly.

“Feels personal,” he retorts. “Have I done something or said something to…I don’t know, make you not want to be around me?”

“No! No. Of course not.”

Andrew frowns. “I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I? I try not to be too forward, but I suppose it’s the Pisces in me. Or something. Alex told me that once, I don’t know.”

You blink. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable.” Not in the way he would expect, anyway.

His cheeks turn rosy as he runs a hand through his curls. He seems almost frustrated, as though your answers perplex him further. Andrew takes another sip from his drink, and you decide to follow suit, gulping down the last of your wine. Before you can even reach for it, Andrew takes the bottle and begins to pour a generous refill into your glass.

You meet his eyes as he sets the bottle back down with a thud before bringing the glass up to your lips again. He watches you carefully, unable to maintain your stare as his eyes flit to your mouth, your throat, your fingers carefully curled around the stem.

“Good. Grand.” He sighs. “If I haven’t made you…I mean, is there something else, then?” Your puzzled expression makes him frown. “Or, someone else, rather?”

The gears slowly begin to turn in your mind.

“Someone…else?”

It must be your tone, the obvious confusion in your voice that clues him in, a look of understanding softening his features. Embarrassment quickly overtakes him as he covers his reddening face with a nervous laugh.

“You—you’ve no idea what I’m—? Oh, Jesus…” He avoids your eyes as he slams back the remainder of his drink in one go, then sets the glass down with a wince and a grimace. “I think we may have a misunderstanding here.”

Your own embarrassment has you speechless, mouth opening and closing as you process what he’s just said. Surely, he didn’t mean…? No, he couldn’t mean that, because things like that don’t just happen, at least not to you. Not when it’s Andrew of all people.

It’s the wine that grips your throat and controls your voice, and you laugh incredulously as you ask, “Oh my god, do you have a crush on me?”

He groans into his hands, then smooths them back over his hair before collapsing onto the table with a laugh. His face is tinged pink with drunken embarrassment, and he smiles at you before turning to hide his face in his arms.

“In no uncertain terms,” comes his muffled reply.

You laugh again and cover your own face, unsure of what to say. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest, your pulse thumping as a familiar heat begins to pool in your stomach.

After a moment, Andrew lifts his head again and pulls himself from the table until he’s upright once more. His eyes are tinged red now, bloodshot from booze. Your own head swims as you rest your head in your hand and smile at him warmly.

“D’you want to know why I was avoiding you?” You avert your gaze to the table, then sigh before the words tumble from your mouth. “Because you’re too fucking attractive. How am I supposed to get anything done when you walk around looking like this?”

He splutters a laugh as you gesture vaguely towards him. “Oh?”

The wine bottle is nearly empty now as you encourage him to pour some for himself in the empty glass on the table.

“It’s terribly inconsiderate of you,” you hum, and you catch his grin before he takes a drink.

Andrew grins. “My apologies for being such a distraction. I’d no idea I caused such distress.”

You chuckle and eye him coyly. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it distress.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Hmm…” You scrunch your face as you pretend to think. “Intrigue, certainly...and the uncanny ability to make me—”

“Anything else for you?” The waiter’s voice startles you both, and you whip your head up to look at him wondering how much of that he heard. If he’s heard anything, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he mostly looks bored, and you can see the black booklet in his hand that surely contains the check.

Andrew is quick to take it and scribbles in his room number for the charge, nearly shoving the booklet back into the waiter’s hands with hasty thanks.

You’re both drunk enough to make bad decisions that you know you’ll regret come morning, but it’s difficult to care about that when he’s pressing you back against the wall in the elevator and kissing you like you’re his only source of air. When his hands are all over you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“C’mon,” he murmurs as the doors open to let you onto his floor.

You stumble over yourself with a whispered, “Shit!” as he pulls you over the threshold of his room, and he laughs and apologizes before flipping a light on.

Andrew is a messy creature, and his room looks as though his overnight bag spontaneously exploded while he was out. It’s weirdly charming, another reminder that he is, in fact, just a regular fucking guy with standard quirks.

A thrill runs through you when he kisses you again, softer this time as he cradles your face in his hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The question is sudden, his eyes wide as he searches for any hint of doubt.

You’re quiet for a moment as you turn the question over in your mind. Even in an inebriated state, he’s still so concerned about your comfort, your consent. It’s unsurprising given how anxious he seems in general, but it’s sweet all the same.

Finally, you rest a hand on his arm and look up at him with a smirk. “What I was saying earlier, about you and intrigue…well, you have a knack for making me weak in the knees, amongst other things. It’s typically based on your proximity, though.”

You see his mouth turn up in a half-smile just before he crowds closer to you, pulling you flush against him as you wrap your arms around his neck and laugh into another kiss.

“I don’t normally do this,” he breathes just before moving to kiss along your neck.

“I feel like I should be the one saying that.” You gasp when he bites down, not hard enough to cause any truly lasting damage, but enough to know that you’ll still be wearing his marks come morning. A thrilling thought, though you’re sure you’ll be mobbed by the ladies and Larissa for details later on.

Your hoodie is in the way, impeding his access, and he steps away to tug at the hem until you’re helping him peel it off. He stares at your chest, clearly surprised by your lack of bra and the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

“In my defense,” you say with a smirk, “I didn’t expect all of this to happen.”

He laughs quietly as he walks you back towards the bed. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

The sheets are rumpled and easily kicked away as you shuffle back on the mattress. Andrew drops kisses along chest, teeth grazing your skin and leaving little imprints. You squeak when he shoves your shirt up roughly, and he throws an apologetic look your way.

“Sorry, just a bit enthusiastic,” he muses.

You laugh, feeling breathless as his hands wander along your newly bared skin.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

His responding laugh— a low, warm sound, sweet as honey—makes you blush. You gasp when he gently bites your nipple just before taking it into his mouth. It sends a shiver through you as he moves to the other, and you squirm beneath him, almost glad that you’re too drunk to really be embarrassed at the moment.

Once your jeans are off and tossed away, Andrew freezes, his eyes greedily taking in your nearly nude body before snapping back up to meet your stare. He dips a hand beneath the waistband of your panties—a simple black pair without any details or flair, because you didn’t expect to have Andrew’s hand shoved into them like this.

He seems surprised to find you an already slick mess, his fingers dipping easily into you before pulling them back to rub your clit in slow circles.

“I told you,” you huff a harsh laugh that breaks into a small moan. “Weak in the knees, amongst other things.”

Andrew’s grin is obscured by his hair that curtains his face. He continues to touch you slowly, methodically, while capturing you in a kiss and swallowing down every little sound that escapes you.

He breaks the kiss with a small gasp and asks, “What do you—how do you want to—?”

You’re far too impatient for anything that isn’t his cock inside of you right fucking now. You’re aching, feeling empty in a way that you have so many times over the past few weeks. Except this time, the object of your affections is stumbling over himself to rummage through his bag after you ask about protection.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse as he approaches you again with something square in hand.

“So are you,” he shoots back, and he watches in awe as you slip your underwear off and cast them aside without batting an eye, emboldened.

He licks his lips before saying weakly, “Oh, you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Andrew is far too impatient to remove everything, barely able to focus on even shoving his own jeans down and hastily rolling on a condom with shaky hands.

The feeling as he presses into you is heavenly, so full, warm, and satisfying. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder as he sets an even pace. The slick sound of your arousal makes you blush, but it’s obvious how much it spurs him on, delighting in your body’s reaction to him, his touch, his everything.

Weeks of wishing and wanting, and now you can’t hold back your moans as he fucks you the way you’ve imagined. You can feel the way he stretches you as he fills you, and he gasps when you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes screwing shut as he takes a deep breath.

You reach up and brush a stray curl from his face. “Are you okay?”

When he opens his eyes, he gives you a little smile and a nod. “Yeah, yes, grand,” he huffs, then lets his head fall forward until his forehead rests against your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

He grips your thigh and squeezes gently, a silent bid to get your legs around him.

At first, he’s slow, taking his time as he kisses you between breathy laughs and whispered swears. It isn’t until you murmur, “You don’t have to treat me so preciously,” in his ear that he hums and shifts to press your legs further, damn near folding you in half. But it’s good, so fucking good, and you can barely form a thought as your eyes roll back and flutter as he picks up his pace.

And, Jesus, how are you already so close to your peak? Another testament to your seemingly insatiable desire. You cry out when he rubs a thumb against your clit roughly, out of sync with his thrusts as you press back and grind against his palm.

The stimulation is enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Tears blur your vision as you let out small, sobbing moans against his neck. Each wave of pleasure has you clenching down around him. and then he’s snapping his hips one, two, three more times before groaning in your ear while his cock twitches with his release.

Andrew is quick to collect you into his arms after collapsing next to you in bed. He reaches blindly for a blanket to tug over both of you, seemingly more of a courtesy than anything. You allow yourself to relax into him, nuzzling his shoulder before settling with your head on his chest.

“Wow,” he says after his breathing has evened, and he laughs quietly as he squeezes you.

“Yeah,” you hum.

There’s another stretch of silence, and your eyes begin to feel heavy as you follow the pattern of his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Another small laugh from him stirs you, and you look up at him questioningly.

“We’re going to feel fucking awful tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is a hungover breakfast a proper first date, d’you think?”

You grin at him and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Proper? No. But we haven’t done things by the book so far.”

#hozier fic #hozier x reader #sailor scout stories #hozier smut #it's 10:36 PM on December 25th so Merry Christmas ya filthy animals #and Happy Holidays to all who celebrate

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redfoxwritesstuff · 3 days ago

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AN: I want to take a moment to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday or a really good wednesday. Be good, be kind, don't lick doorknobs.

CW: smut, Luci being a sad sack of shit, threesome, two dicks in one hole, oral

Summary: On a rare snow day in hell, the residents of the hotel indulge in a snowball fight that has a rather enlightening ending, revealing unlikely teammates and what you would have considered even less likely feelings. The solution to the frosty mess? Even more surprising.

Snow glittered in the dim light of hell’s sun. You were eager to get out of the hotel and into the snow. It had been decades since you had seen snow, an actual torture you hadn’t been aware you were suffering from until a Christmas miracle struck and hell rather literally froze over.

It didn’t take long for the hotel residents to join you. Snowballs flew through the air, pelting residents. You seemed to be disproportionately the target of the attacks. It had to have been Alastor. You were so sure of it, and yet every time a snowball landed, it came from the wrong direction.

He was innocent of the frozen crimes you had so badly wished to accuse him of and that was making you all the more angry. It didn’t help that you couldn’t seem to do more than land a glancing blow with your own balls.

You were ready to scream and then you saw it.

“Are you fucking serious?!” you raged, catching sight of Alastor’s shadow holding a bright white ball of icy terror and getting ready to send it to you. He had the manners to at least look sheepish when he was caught before melting away.

Alastor knew he was caught, holding his hands up as he tried to convince you he was innocent of the snowy crimes you accused him of. You wouldn’t hear any of it, raging at him as you compacted a snowball, trying to look as threatening as you could.

You were going to shove that snowball right into his charming, handsome face as he laughed. Just as you were going to shove that icy ball into his face, a wave of cold washed over you.

White was everywhere and then all you could see was red. Everything went black as the force of the snow pushed you forward and down, crashing you into Alastor. The two of you fell in a heap, limbs tangling as snow buried the both of you.

You gasped, snow filling your mouth as the weight piled onto you. Over the blanket of snow, you could just hear the sound of Lucifer laughing, surely filled with glee over having caught Alastor for once.

You struggled, wiggling and fighting to get free from the cold embrace of the snow. At first, you hadn’t realized the impacts of where you landed until you heard the gasping moan of Alastor and felt… oh. You felt a lot of Alastor’s body under you, even parts of his body you hadn’t thought you would ever feel at all.

“I am so, so sorry.” You whispered, eyes wide and body frozen in place as Alastor throbbed against your hip. Heat rose in your face as you felt his hardness twitched against you. “I swear- we don’t have to ever talk abo-”

Hot lips crashed against yours as Alastor leaned up. For a moment, you thought it was somehow an accident. Alastor surely wouldn’t be kissing you. Doubt swirled in your mind until you felt his hand slip around the back of your neck, holding you in place.

Cold water soaked into your hair, ran down your neck as it melted around you. Alastor’s hips twitched, pushing his hardness into you in a barely restrained attempt to get some stimulation.

You melted with the snow, sinking into Alastor’s arms. Though you had never thought Alastor would give you a second glass, your heart pounded in your chest. The crush you harbored for Alastor was one of your most sacred secrets.

“Finally,” Lucifer said as he scooped snow off of you.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice and the light filtering in through your eyelids. The idea that anyone would see your intimate moment with Alastor, unplaned through it was made you feel vulnerable. Below you, Alastor sent a wink up to the devil who had uncovered you.

Oh.

The world crashed down around you. They had planned this, whatever this was.

There were so many questions you wanted to ask but the clatter of your teeth as you shivered cut off any chance of asking them at that moment. The snow had melted on your back, soaking what passed as a jacket in hell.

“Come on,” Lucifer said, offering his hand to help you up.

You hesitated for a moment, looking between Alastor and the king. You had thought they couldn’t stand eachother. You had thought they would never work together and yet they had. ‘Why?’ was just one more question you wanted to ask them.

“Let’s get you inside,” Alastor said as he stood, shaking the snow from his coat. His tall red ears flicked, sending snow flying.

Alastor’s hand rested against the small of your back, a guiding hand as Lucifer told the others they were taking you inside to warm up. Everything felt so coordinated as you stepped inside the hotel.

How you ended up in Lucifer’s suite, wearing his dressing gown, you didn’t know. They had just led you along, not giving you the chance to turn off to your room. They walked as if they knew exactly where they were going to take you. Teamwork, once again.

“What is going on?” you finally braved asking as Lucifer handed you a mug of cocoa.

“What ever do you mean, darlin’?” Alastor’s smile grew wider as you shifted on the couch.

“What do I mean?” You had to look between the two men, both sets of eyes so intently focused on you. “What I mean is you-” you pointed to Lucifer with the mug of cocoa. “buried us in snow. And then you-” you pointed the mug at Alastor. “You fucking- you kissed me.”

“Yes,” Alastor hummed, “I suppose I did.”

“You winked at him.” Your attention was focused on Alastor as you spoke, sparing a moment to sip the offensively good cocoa. “Why? You planned this- why? What is going on?”

“I-” Lucifer sighed, eyes flicking toward Alastor before he focused on you again. “We like you.”

“We?” You struggled to wrap your head around the conversation you were having. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Cher, that both the Little King and I seem to have developed a deep care for you.” Alastor’s wide smile told you so very little, so you turned to Lucifer.

“I- yes.” Lucifer nodded, eyes darting away from you.

“Then why did you help him kiss me?” You struggled to follow any of their logic.

“He thought you wouldn’t want him.” Alastor offered. “He thought you would rightfully pick me, the superior choice.”

“Fuck you,” Lucifer snapped.

“So, what?” You struggled to follow the conversation between the rivals turned unwilling teammates. “You just gave up?”

“You don’t want a depressed divorced man.” Lucifer laughed.

“Why do you get to decide that for me?” You struggled to wrap your head around what was going on. Less than an hour ago you were under the snow, kissing Alastor as his cock throbbed under you and now both men you had fancied sat in front of you, telling you they both had feelings for you. “Why don’t I get to decide?”

“And what would you decide?” Alastor asked, setting his mug of cocoa down. “If we had given you a choice?”

“I-” The words died in your throat. “I don’t know.”

“How would you decide?” Lucifer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Why should I have to decide?” You pouted. “Why should I have to pick at all?

“And that’s why we picked for you.” Alastor laughed.

“And who says you get to pick? Why should anyone have to pick?”

“What are you saying?” Lucifer asked, setting his mug of cocoa on the table.

You huffed, focusing your attention on your cocoa, closing your eyes as you took a sip. You didn’t even know what you were saying, what you were thinking. All you knew was that everything was too much.

The men both moved so fast, not giving you a chance to really prepare for what came next. Lucifer and Alastor were on their knees in front of you, pulling your thighs as far apart as they would go.

Tongues swiped up your folds, licking and sucking at your clit as the two men fought for space. The warring sensations had you gasping for breath, each talented tongue leaving you gasping. Your thighs ached with how you were spread wide.

“Careful,” Alastor teased, looking up at you as you clutched your mug of cocoa. “You don’t want to spill.”

“It’ll land on my head,” Lucifer teased, coming up for air. “And then we’ll have to stop.”

“Now tell us, who’s better?” Alastor asked, tongue running through your folds again.

“I don’t,” you struggled to think through the sensations. “I can’t.”

Lucifer shoved Alastor out of the way, worming his long forked tongue into your twitching opening. Alastor would have none of that. Lean arms slipped under your thighs and wrapped around your hips.

“Shit,” you squeaked out the word as he lifted you up off the couch.

“You’re hogging her,” Alastor said as he planted your back against the wall, working your thighs up onto his shoulders.

“Fuck, Alastor!” Lucifer whined. “I can’t reach.”

“I know,” Alastor said, as he delved back between your legs.

He ate your cunt like a man starved. Cocoa splattered, running from the mug that tipped down, forgotten in the pleasure. Sharp teeth teased the sensitive bud of your clit. You gasped his name as the sting of pain swam within pleasure.

“That’s right,” Alastor said, lips working against your clit as he spoke, not willing to be apart from your sweet core for a moment longer than he had to. “Sing my name.”

As he pushed you closer and closer to your orgasm, the sound of Lucifer’s complaints drown out. The shoulder of the robe fell down, exposing skin you no longer cared about anyone else seeing.

“Alastor,” you cried his name again and again as you came, fingers flexing as waves of pleasure ran through your body. The mug fell, crashing to the ground in a rain of chocolate covered shards. “Alastor! Alastor!”

He let your body slide from his shoulders, wet cunt smearing down the soft, well-worn fabric of his shirt. The buttons caught, scratching your sensitive skin.

“I think I won,” Alastor laughed as he held you to him, carrying you easily toward the large bed in lucifer’s room.

“You didn’t fight fair,” Lucifer accused.

“I’m not a thing to fight over,” you sighed as Alastor nestled you onto the bed. Lucifer crawled up onto the bed in front of you, naked. When he got that way, you didn’t know. His golden flushed cock stood out proudly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alastor grumbled as he worked his bowtie free from his neck.

“Well-” Lucifer chuckled, enjoying the way your eyes roamed his body. While he wasn’t secure about his mental health or his ability to keep a partner happy emotionally and mentally, he had no doubt of his ability to sexually satisfy.

Alastor had stolen his chance to shine orally, but Lucifer was eager enough to show his skills another way.

“Put your clothes on. It was my name she was screaming.” Alastor ran his hand over your curves, not actually bothering to cover where your legs met.

“Who said she picked yet?” Lucifer countered, reaching out to tug the shoulder of the robe down, exposing your breast. Your pretty pink nipple slipped out from under the soft fuzzy fabric. “You’ll let me fuck you, won’t you, angel?”

“Oh,” you moaned as he softly caressed the soft skin of your breast, running his nails over the sensitive bud of your nipple, urging it to pull tighter and tighter. “Okay,” you sighed.

Lucifer grabbed your hip, pulling your body to him. His strong hand ran down your thigh, gripping your leg and pulling it over his hip. The blunt head of his cock ran up and down your folds, spreading your slick over him.

“Who says you get to fuck her first?” Alastor grumbled, grinding his clothed crotch against your ass.

“I’ll share,” Lucifer teased, “If she’s up for it.”

“What?” You gasped as his cock nudged your clit, caressing it softly as your slick gathered on his shaft, spread between your folds as he thrust through them.

“Would you like that?” Alastor hooked your jaw and pulled you to look at him over your shoulder. “Would you like it if we both fucked you?”

“I-” Your attempt to answer was cut off by his lips sealing over yours in a soft kiss.

“You did say you didn’t want to pick,” Lucifer added as you faced him again, Alastor’s hand leaving your jaw to caress your chest, palming the swell of your breast before disappearing.

“What if we didn’t make you pick?” Alastor offered, working the buttons of his shirt free one after the other.

“What if played nice and you could have your cake and eat it too?” Lucifer offered.

Part of you felt like this was somehow their endgame. It felt like it had all be a game to get you here, mind foggy with desire as they offered you a deal soaked in sin.

Any chance you had of thinking things through was gone the moment you felt Alastor’s pants shimmy down his hips. The hot weight of his cock sprang out, resting against your ass as he worked his clothes off.

“What do you say?” Alastor whispered in your ear, hand resting on your hip as his cock twitched.

“Okay.” You whimpered as Lucifer’s cock slipped into your wet cunt, spreading your walls around him. His size was disproportionate to his height and lean frame. The burn of your unprepped hole spreading for him was delicious.

The head of Alastor’s cock rested against your puckered ring of muscle. He pressed forward, a slow and steady pressure that remained constant while Lucifer began his slow thrusting into you.

“Have you ever?” Lucifer asked as he sighed, enjoying the simple pleasure he had long missed of simply being inside the body of another.

“No.” You sighed, tense body relaxing with each smooth thrust of Lucifer’s cock through your sensitive walls.

“We’ll take good care of you, baby.” Alastor promised, cooing the words in your ear as the head of his cock finally breached the tight ring of your asshole. Your body jumped with the intrusion, sharp pain dulling into a burning pain.

“Shh,” Lucifer cooed, “Relax. Let him in.”

Alastor kissed your neck as his cock twitched, the head of him just moving inside you. Each thrust into you Lucifer made pushed you back slightly more onto the cock in your ass. Pain slowly morphed into pleasure as Alastor pushed slowly deeper into your virginal asshole.

“There you go,” Alastor whispered. “You’re taking me in so well.”

“Gosh,” Lucifer gasped. “You’re making her even tighter.”

“Oh god,” you whispered as Alastor finally bottomed out, hips resting flush against your plush ass.

The men slowly began moving against eachother. Each of Lucifer’s thrusts into you pushed you back on Alastor’s cock, forcing him in deeper. Alastor returned the favor, pushing into your ass and pushing Lucifer’s cock deeper into you.

They worked at a slow, lazy pace, soft words of praise whispered in your ears. They took turns lavishing you in sweet kisses as clung to them, both with your arms and your body.

Sweat gathered on your skin as you trembled, overwhelmed by the feeling of the two cocks sliding against one another inside you. You were so close to your orgasm and yet part of you was terrified of cuming in that position. Would the force of it rip you apart?

The orgasm snuck up on you, breaking the dam when you were distracted with the soft slide of their bodies against yours. Your back arched as you gasped, choking on the power of the orgasm, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing in the musky scent of him.

Lucifer’s lips latched onto your nipple, teasing the sensitive bud as your body twitched and spasmed, walls trying to milk the men inside your holes.

“Fuck this,” Alastor grumbled, pulling from your twitching ass. Magic flared, burning behind you, but he didn’t give either of you a chance to question things as he grabbed your thigh, pulling it up and spreading you wider.

“If you want us both, you’ll have to take us both.” Alastor growled in your ear.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer pulled from your nipple and looked over you to Alastor, eyes widening as he felt the dull head of the other man’s cock press against his shaft. “You’re not serious.”

“Deathly,” Alastor growled out as he pushed forward, working your hole wider.

You gasped, nails digging into both men as you shuddered. Your hole burned as he pushed the limits of what your body could take.

“Too much,” you cried out, “Too much. Too big.”

“Al, she’s going to strangle us at this rate.” Lucifer couldn’t keep the moan from his voice as your hole grew impossibly tight around him, the foreign feeling of another cock pushing in alongside his.

“You’ll be fine,” Alastor insisted, pulling his cock out slightly before pushing into you again, forcing your inner walls to make way for him.

Lucifer grunted, the pressure of Alastor’s cock trying to crush his while your body struggled to part for him. The slick side of Alastor’s cock moving against his made it difficult for Lucifer to remain frozen in place.

You choked on your gasps, the burning stretch consuming all of you as Alastor spread your cunt wider than you ever thought was possible. The pain was matched by the intoxicating full feeling as he settled into you, hips resting against your ass as he held your hips as weld as he could.

“Hold on,” Lucifer groaned as your walls clamped down with each move either of their cocks made. “Sit up.”

“Why?” Alastor asked, thrusting his hips lazily into your slick hole.

“If you- fuck- if you put her in your lap we can- stop fucking doing that, you’re making it hard to think.” Lucifer struggled and failed to resist the urge to slowly work his cock deeper into you, nestling his hips so tight against you that his balls were resting against Alastor’s. Never in the last century did he think he’d be balls to balls, dick to dick with the one man he thought he couldn’t stand. “If she’s in your lap, we can spread her wider.”

“What?” Alastor grunted as his cock slid through your walls, moving against Lucifer’s. “Is she too tight for you?”

Lucifer moaned, thrusting lazily against the slide of Alastor, moving through your walls. “I just- golly, I just don’t want to hurt her.”

Alastor shifted, cradling you with his arm as he looked down at your flushed, dazed face. Your lips were parted, saliva dangerously close to falling from them as you took shallow breath after shallow breath, body shaking like a leaf in his arms.

Leaning down, Alastor kissed you, smiling as you responded, kissing him weakly. His clawed hand gripped your side before running up your chest, cupping your sweet breast. Your heart thundered in your chest, slamming against your ribs with such force that he could feel it under his hand.

“I think she’s doing just fine, aren’t you, baby?” Alastor purred in your ear, once again using a pet name that you never would have expected to pass from his lips.

“Ye-” Your agreement was little more than a sigh as the cocks slid against eachother, softly fucking into you. What the thrusts lacked in power, they made up with in the way you were stretched painfully wide around the two men.

Never, even in your wildest sexual fantasies, did you consider how it would feel to have two men fucking into your pussy at once. It spread you so tightly around them that you were sure they were going to rip you apart. The pressure of their cocks against your walls had them hitting every delicate nerve, body already painfully sensitive from the two orgasms the men had ripped from you.

“Why don’t you kiss your king?” Alastor urged, hand wrapping strands of your hair around his fingers as he guided your head down toward the smaller man, looking up at you with a love drunk look in his lust blown eyes.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, caressing the soft white skin of your other lover. Soft touches traced where the black of his arms faded into gray. You caressed the flexing muscles of his arm and shoulder as he resisted the urge to chase his release before coming to rest on his chest.

The overwhelming fullness and pleasure of having them both moving inside you made it a battle to work your muscles, but you struggled to lean into him, whimpering as the cocks continued to push and pull inside you. Your body squelched with the sound of it, each pushing through the imperfect seal.

Lucifer wrapped his arm around you, urging your trembling body to bend to him as he worked into your cramped, warm, wet tunnel again and again. His lips met yours timidly, unsure still if you’d really want him. There was no hesitation in your response.

You sighed into the kiss as your lips melted into his, becoming one as you breathed eachother in. Lucifer found his confidence as you clung to him, deepening the kiss with a soft swipe of his tongue. In a matter of moments, he was inside you in another way, tasting you.

The soft sounds of lovemaking slowly morphed, changing as the pleasure became overwhelming. The bed creaked with the force of moving bodies as you lay, caught between the two men you wouldn’t have dared hope you could have as they worked your body tighter and tighter.

“She’s getting close,” Lucifer said, lips leaving yours to return to your chest.

“Getting so much tighter,” Alastor grunted with the force of his thrusts, pushing through walls that tried to lock both men in place within you. “Going to cum for us?”

“I c-can’t.” Tears ran from your eyes as each man continued to work inside you, pushing you deeper and deeper into the mindless sea of painful pleasure. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Alastor promised, “You’ve taken us so good, you can do this for us.”

Bodies slapped into yours, the sound of them hitting your sweat slicked skin coming louder and faster as they chased their single-minded goal. All you could do was hold on to them, whimpering and begging for something, anything, as they sought to it you would come undone for them one more time.

You came as a screaming, whimpering mess, clinging to your lovers with everything you could. Your toes curled so hard that they cramped. The blunt edges of your nails bit into whatever skin you could reach, not nearly powerful enough to break their skin.

It felt like you were coming apart at the seams as harsh waves of pleasure pulled your muscles tight. Alastor pulled your neck back, covering your parted lips with his as he used his kiss to silence your screams.

Each man was moaning, groaning as your body begged for thier seed. Lucifer was the first to succumb to the temptation, pace turning faster and faster. The slick side of his cock against Alastor’s urged him on, drawing him into a race to the finish.

Each powerful thrust knocked the air from your lungs. The cocks within you swelled slightly, demanding more room from the walls stretched beyond their limits. They twitched against eachother, cocks rubbing your walls as you clung to what little sanity you could manage.

There was nothing that could prepare any of you for the feeling of both men reaching their climax at the near same time. Hot ropes of cum shot from both cocks, harshly twitching against eachother as you were left a moaning, sobbing mess between you.

The men’s fingers dug into your body, gripping you as their thrusts turned harsh, each fighting to fuck their seed deeper into you. Their essence leaked from your opening, mixing and seeping from your body in a sticky mess that tried to glue your lover’s cocks together.

Lucifer’s cock popped from your swollen hole, slipping his messy shaft along your thigh, rubbing against Alastor as he thrusted lazily into you, slowly coming to a stop as he pulled your back into his chest.

Lucifer looked at you, hesitating for a moment before scooting into you, placing a soft kiss on your lips as he nestled himself within your arms. Behind you, Alastor nuzzled into the soft hair at the back of your neck, breathing in the scent of you.

“Would you have really wanted me?” Lucifer whispered, looking so much like the timid, depressed man he was under all the pride, power, and status.

“I do want you,” you whispered, mind still on the post orgasmic cloud, preventing you from thinking about anything too hard at all. “I want you both. It’s not fair.”

“Then have us both,” Alastor whispered in your ear. “We worked together to get here.”

“Okay,” Lucifer whispered, looking to Alastor for reassurance. Though Alastor didn’t take his head from where he was tucked against you but Lucifer still could see the slight nod of Alastor’s head. “We can be a thing, the three of us.”

“Okay,” you sniffled, sleep pulling you under as your body relaxed, trembles slowly beginning to come to a stop.

What tomorrow would look like, you didn’t know. How this thing between the three of you would work out, you didn’t know. All you knew is for the first time in both your life and your afterlife, you felt safe tucked into their arms.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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butlervibesonly · 3 days ago

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𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑪𝑲 || 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐭 || Austin! Elvis

★ PART 2 - comming soon...

★ SUMMARY: Y/n is Elvis' fan, and when she gets to one of his performances for the first time, something happens. Something that she could never imagine in her wildest dreams...

★ PAIRING: Austin! Elvis x female! reader

★ WARNINGS: none??

★ NOTE!! My acknowledge of Elvis is not so big, all things I know are from movie, documents, webs etc! So I deeply apologize for any mistakes/typos/misunderstanding that have nothing to do with reality. All of this is fic and has nothing to do with no one or anything. Based just on Austin's role of Elvis! Thank you for understanding! 🫶🏻

The moment you saw him — the way he wiggles, the way he sings, the way he looks. His black hair shimmer in the spotlight. You are completely sure you've never seen anyone like this before. The entire United States seems to know his name by now.

Elvis Presley.

That's it. That's the name. Whether it's just Elvis or just Presley, everyone know who he is. You never thought seeing someone like that in person would mess with your head so much.

He is famous, even though he is still climbing towards true fame, but young girls are already crazy about him. And now you completely understand why. You're at one of his performances right now and it's unbelievable how much of an influence this guy has on everyone around you.

♪ Well, it's one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready now go, cat, go ♪

You would say it was almost impossible for him to notice the audience while he was moving around on stage, but one moment seemed to change everything. His blue eyes find yours. He seemed to lock his gaze on you while singing the rest of the song Blue Suede Shoes.

"Who's tha' girl over there?" Elvis asks the boys from band, not caring about the cheering he gets. "I have no idea, man," Bill answers. At that moment, Elvis is caring about nothing but the name of the girl who caught his eye.

If the crowd isn't crazy that much, he sure would jump into the audience just to ask for your name. "I need her name,"

"What?!"

Colonel Parker was already dragging Elvis into his presence. "Mr. Presley, there are some nice interviewers-"

"Get her damn' name, Bill!" As Elvis said it was done. The show ended and you're on. your way home, still taken away from all what happened. Bill runs after you, trying to catch you through the crowd.

"Miss?!" he shouts, not too far away from you. You turn around, seeing the familiar face. "Miss! E-Elvis sent me to see ya. He'd probably like to meet ya." Elvis would like to what? In less then 10 minutes you're waiting in the backstage, waiting for someone to tell you what's goin' on.

"H-hey, sorry for waitin'," suddenly you hear that deep fast voice. "Elvis. Elvis Presley, miss." he introduced himself to you as if you didn't know his name already. "All good," you shake his hand. "Y/n y/n/m."

"Y/n," your name slips from his lips like a melody. "That's uh- a beautiful name." Elvis seems really nervous but the more you look at him this close the more this feels unreal. "I- I was wonderin' if you're, uh, free tonigh'?".

"I am, yes," you reply faster than you thought. Who would decline a date with Elvis Presley? A nervous smile appears on his face as you agree. "Awesome! I'm here with my car, so..." he almost asks for your permission.

You nod and smile. Looking at him as he's wearing pink shirt with black pants. Not forget to mention that you are matching his outfit with beautiful pink cocktail dress.

You follow Elvis into his car, and the moment you see his pink Cadillac it's like a dream. "Ladies first," he chuckles, opening a door for you. You're sitting in Elvis Presley's car with Elvis. You're practically living a dream of every young girl right now. Elvis starts the car and he makes the way into the local dinner.

"So, Y/n, tell me about yourself," Elvis sits in front of you in the dinner. He ordered you and himself a strawberry milkshake. "There's not much to know, actually." you smile, your eyes scanning him. He looks so handsome and unreal.

"Ya know why I noticed ya?" Elvis asks, as you take a sip from your milkshake. "When I saw ya, you were, uh... different than other girls, y'know. You were so calm and uh,"

"That's because I've never seen anyone like you." you confess, blinking with your lashes. Elvis could swear he loves your eyes so much already. "I was simply taken aback when I saw you doing the... the things—"

"Ya like the way I move, doll?" he laughs. Doll. Is this how he calls girls he likes? Doll? "Bill told me, the first time I performed, that them girls like to see me wiggle. I can't stand still while singin'."

"Well, it's really mesmerizing..." Elvis smiles at you again. Oh gosh, how much he wants to get to know you more. You see the lovely desperation in his eyes. "I'm at college, right now. Finishing my studies. Daddy wants me to be successful, but whole my life I just dream about being free and... independent." you begin.

"Y'know, my daddy is a banker and my mama is a teacher. They both raised me really strictly to become the best version of myself. But that little girl always dreamed of life of her own, and still does." Elvis listened to you carefully, not caring that people in the dinner ate recognizing him.

"I've never met a girl like ya, Y/n," Elvis admits, his hand travelling to hold yours. "Ya are not like the other's, nah-uh."

"Do ya know I'm not surprised, Mr. Presley?" you take the last sip from your milkshake, then taking your purse and standing up. "Oh, Satnin', don't call me like this, I'm Elvis for ya," he grabs your wrist, stopping you from leaving. "Aight', Elvis,"

"Don't leave! Not yet," he pays for the milkshakes, turning back at you. "I gotta. Daddy's gonna be mad, if I'll arrive late."

"I'll drive ya home, mhm?" Elvis offers. Who are you to refuse this poor boy? "Okay."

When you're sitting in his pink Cadillac again, you don't want this moment to end. You can feel Elvis' eyes resting on you, as you smile. "Where do you live, doll?"

"Just around the corner. Turn right and the last house in that street," you point on the turn. The evening is already dark, but his eyes shine anyway. As Elvis pulls up on the driveway of your house, he turns to face you.

"Would it be aight', if I, uh, I called you sometime? What's ya number?" Elvis asks and your hands travel to your purse where you always carry a pen in a case of anything. Only problem is that you don't have a paper.

"Do you perhaps have a paper or something?" Elvis nods and searches the passenger's drawer for a piece of paper. He pulls out a piece of some kind of letter with his name on it – probably a letter from a fan.

When he hands it to you, he accidentally touches your knee. His touch is so gentle and soft. If you hadn't just met, you would want that touch to never end. Elvis passes you the paper, and with a smile you write your house phone number on it.

"Thank ya," you pass the paper back to him. "I had a great time, Y/n." he glances at you, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "Are ya okay?" he asks, his voice low and easy.

You turn to him, startled from her thoughts. "Oh, I’m just… enjoying the moment, y'know," you reply softly, eyes darting to meet his before shyly falling away. The scent of his cologne, warm and woodsy, lingers between the two of you.

You both sit in silence for a moment, the world outside hushed. Elvis shifts slightly in his seat, leaning closer. “Y'know,” he murmurs, “I think you might be the nicest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You look up, your lips parting to respond, but before you can speak, he closes the distance between him and you. His lips meets yours—gentle, tentative, as if he was tasting the sweet taste of your juicy lips. Your breath hitches in surprise, but don’t pull away. Instead, a warmth unfurls in your chest, spreading like the soft glow of the car’s headlights on the road.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes searches for yours nervously. A boyish uncertainty crosses his face. “Was that okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You blink, your cheeks flushing. Then you smile—a radiant smile that makes his heart skip. “It was more than okay,” you say, your fingers lightly brushing the back of his hand. “It was perfect.”

He grins, relief and joy flooding his expression. You got out of the car, rushing to the from door of your house. As you turn once more again to see him, he waves at you and drives away.

"Sweetheart, who just drove out of our driveway?" you hear your mom from kitchen. You can't say it was Elvis, but sooner or later she'll find out if he's going to call you. "No one, mama!" With reply you rush upstairs to your room, where you close the door and can't believe this is true.

NOTE: Hahaha, how bad was this? I mean, I have written this as a complete freestyle soooo 🥲 Nvm hope u gonna like this and I hope this serie will be successful, even tho I didn't even think of the plot yet 😭

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austinbutler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x you #austin butler elvis presley #elvis film #elvis presley #elvis 2022 movie #elvis 2022 #Spotify

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senditcolton · 1 day ago

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It Would've Been Sweet...

...if it could've been me.

summary: there was no good reason for you to be in TD Garden during a Game 7 Stanley Cup Final Game. especially when the only connection you had to the sport was your ex-boyfriend Joel Edmundson, who you had left in St. Louis six months ago. but here you were. what were you doing here? a/n: hello friends! if you've been here since the inception of this blog, you might recognize this story. however, I no longer write for the original player that starred in this fic. but I am very proud of this fic plus, I think this was the start of my trademark bittersweet endings, so i couldn't just let it disappear. so, here is another rewrite now starring my favorite crop top king who i miss terribly. song inspo: The 1 by Taylor Swift word count: 8.8k warnings: time jumps [past is in italics], argument scene, language, angst with a bittersweet ending

What were you doing here?

That was the question running on loop through your mind as your eyes stay glued to the ice a few dozen feet below. There was absolutely no reason for you to step foot in this arena. There was no good reason why you shouldn’t be in your studio apartment on Newbury Street right now, curled up under your blankets, watching re-runs of bad reality TV.

When you received a text earlier that day from an old friend, asking if you had any plans, you knew what she was going to propose. You had seen the news. You had felt the energy go up in this east coast sports city. And you knew why your friend – a friend who you hadn’t seen since you moved 1,200 miles across the country – was in the city you now called home and had asked you to join her at this place on this night of all nights.

You knew all of this and could list all the reasons why you shouldn’t have responded; why you should’ve ghosted her like you had everyone else you left in St. Louis. But despite all that, you texted her back.

That was how you found yourself sitting in a clubhouse suite in TD Garden, trying desperately to only focus on the black and yellow jerseys of the Boston Bruins zipping around the ice.

Trying not to look over at the other end of the rink. Trying not to look at the white jerseys with blue and gold detailing. Trying not to scan the sea of players for the one person you should’ve forgotten by now.

Trying not to have your eyes land on the number six emblazoned on your ex-boyfriend’s back.

What were you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.

But we were something, don’t you think so?

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The unfamiliar voice sounding from behind you tears you out of the peace you were taking in the quiet kitchen, causing you to spin around. You were ready to tell whoever it was off, ready to confront the person who was so bold as to say where you did and did not belong. However, the face that greets you, the owner of the voice, is not what you expected.

His head of chestnut brown curls was messy, his stunning hazel eyes sparkling as they rake up and down your body and his lips, surrounded by a light scruff, were twisted up into a small smirk. He was cute. Like, really cute. It also didn’t hurt that he was clad in swim trunks and a t-shirt that was cut short, exposing his muscular midriff.

You tighten your hand around the beer bottle you were holding as you lean back against counter, your face shifting from annoyance to mirror his casual bright expression.

“And why is that?” you ask, taking a small sip.

“Because,” this stranger starts, “this is Dunner’s party. And the Dunner I know would have never invited someone so gorgeous to his house and without hanging over her shoulder the entire time.”

You let out a light laugh, the compliment not escaping your notice.

“Oh really? How do you even know I was invited by Vince? Maybe I snuck into my neighbor’s house in the hopes of meeting a hot single man. Maybe this is the first step in my evil plan to make a professional hockey player to fall madly in love with me.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

“You tell me.”

The man in front of you lets out a big laugh, causing a genuine smile to grace your face. You liked the sound of it, the sight of his head being thrown back, his smile so bright it almost blinded you. He looked back at you, the grin still on his lips.

You hold out your hand to him, giving this stranger your name as an introduction and hoping he sees your somewhat formal greeting as an awkward indication of your interest. He gladly takes your hand in his, shaking it gently as he gives you his name in return.

“Joel.”

You two stand there for a moment longer, simply looking at each other and you are trying not to focus on the warmth of his palm and the energy that seems to be flowing between you.

“So, why are you here?” he asks, dropping his hand from yours and you try not to let your face fall in disappointment at the loss of his touch.

“My friend invited me,” you say, gesturing towards the crowd of people in backyard. “What you said earlier – that Vince would be draped over some gorgeous girl – you are right about that. It’s just that my friend Daphne is who Vince is attached to.”

Joel hums and softly nods hid head in understanding. He walks a few steps until he is resting his body against the counter right next to you, his arm slightly brushing the bare skin of your own.

“Okay, so that’s the reason why you’re at this party. But, why are you here?” he asks, lightly gesturing around the empty room before glancing over to you. You sigh, looking out the large glass windows facing the backyard, watching the rest of the party mingle on the grass or splash in the pool, their laughter dancing on the late summer breeze. And here you were, hiding in the kitchen.

“I thought it would be fun. Not sure if I was right,” you explain, your hands going to fiddle with the loose corner of the beer label. “But Daphne is always trying to get me to go out with her.”

“Why don’t you?”

“It just really isn’t my scene. I did the whole party life thing in college and now, it’s just kind of lost its appeal.”

Joel lets out another hum, his eyes focused on you. He glances back at his teammates, acting loud and rambunctious as always. It was a lot to take in, he realized, especially if you weren’t exposed to it for over half the year like he was. He looks back at you, your fingers still fidgeting with the damp paper, your eyes far away.

You were beautiful. The thought was in Joel’s head before he could even process what it meant. And he knew instantly that he didn’t want to see you worried, that he wanted to see you smile again.

“So, you aren’t trying to get an attractive, wealthy hockey player to fall in love with you?”

You let out a laugh, your eyes connecting with his once again. The sparkle in his irises tells you he is joking with you, trying to make you feel comfortable. But there is also another emotion behind it. You can see it trying to swim to the surface, a desire that hadn’t been directed your way in a long time.

“Well, never say never,” you quip back. “Do you happen to know someone who would be willing to be infatuated with me?”

Joel tilts his head back, his hand going to stroke the facial hair on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

“There is this one guy…” he starts, trailing off to catch your reaction. You turn towards him, the playful smile still on your face.

“He plays on the same team as Dunner. He’s also defenseman as well, number 6. A decent hockey player. Funny, chill, and pretty good-looking, if I do say so myself.”

You hum in thought, your fingers tapping a small rhythm against the top of the marble island before nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.

“He seems promising. Do you think he would like me?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Joel replies almost instantaneously, causing a small giggle to fall from your lips.

“Well then, point me in his direction!” you declare, catching Joel smiling at you out of the corner of your eye. “The next step would be to trip dramatically and fall into the pool, which will cause him to dive in after me to save my life. That is where our romance will begin!” you continue, throwing out your hands for additional affect.

“Or…” he says, gently grabbing your hand out of the air, his thumb brushing against the soft skin. “I could just give you his phone number. It might save you some time. And bodily harm.”

You smile, jolts of electricity racing through you from his touch.

“I suppose that works too.”

In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You hear Daphne’s voice next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the ice. She is staring at you, a hint of genuine concern in her eyes. The light-washed blue denim of her jacket stands out in the sea of black and gold and you spy the number 29 proudly displayed on her shoulder. Somehow, the sight of it makes you feel self-conscious that you’re only wearing an oversized grey sweater with a small Blues logo over the left breast. But then again, what else should you be wearing?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head, trying to erase the fantasy of you wearing a customized jacket out of your brain. “It just feels a little weird to be here, that’s all.”

Daphne turns to look around the box, all the other Better Halves excitedly talking and mingling. A few had come over to greet you, almost to welcome you back into the chosen sisterhood that developed between you all. But they knew it was only for one night.

Anyone could see how messed up this situation was; you coming to the biggest game of your ex-boyfriends’ career, hanging out with the ladies that you had grown close to in those six months you and Joel were together. Willingly placing yourself into this moment, as if nothing happened.

As if there was no break-up, as if you didn’t move halfway across the country and ghost all of them just to avoid anything that would remind you of his smile, his hazel eyes, his contagious laughter.

Daphne sighs as she returns her gaze to you, your chin resting in your upturned palm, your eyes now focused on the giant screen hanging above the ice.

“You didn’t have to come, you know. Not that I don’t want you here,” she quickly backtracks. “I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you. We all missed you, trust me. But, you know, if it gets to be too much, you don’t have to stay. Everyone would understand.”

“Why would I turn down the opportunity to see a Stanley Cup Final game? Especially a Game 7.”

Daphne looks at you, a disapproving glint in her eyes. She knows that you’re trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke, and ignore the real reason you said yes. She knows exactly what made you agree to come meet her after months, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself. And it sure as hell wasn’t a free ticket.

She turns away from you, her eyes following your gaze to the now pristine and empty rink. The lights dim and the roar from the hometown crowd goes up. But the sound and the energy buzzing through the stadium wasn’t enough to stop you from hearing Daphne’s last spoken words.

“He would be happy to know you’re here.”

You look down at the ice as the players step out, now allowing yourself to find the one person that you refused to acknowledge since you stepped foot in the arena.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve shown.

He was late. Again.

You sigh, as you continue to pace around your kitchen, your heels clicking gently on the tile floor. It had been almost two hours since Joel was supposed to pick you up for a date. But instead of sitting in an upscale restaurant, drinking good wine and eating decadent meals, you were left waiting in your best dress, watching the hands on the clock circle.

Although, you weren’t sure why you were still waiting.

The reservations you two had were definitely cancelled by now and at this point in the night, it was too late to even think about doing anything other than lying in your bed, watching whatever was airing on The Game Show Network until you fell asleep.

But you stayed, hoping that your boyfriend would walk through the door. Because you were pissed. You wanted to make him feel guilty for leaving you stranded like this. It wasn’t healthy – you knew that – but you weren’t sure what else to do. Lately, it seemed like Joel was more interested in… well, anything that wasn’t you.

When you two first started dating, it was like something out of a cheesy rom-com. He was attentive and caring and you had honestly never felt more loved. But before you knew it, the fire between you two started to dwindle.

In the back of your mind, you knew it was coming. Everyone talked about the honeymoon phase and its inevitable end. You just weren’t prepared for it to end when it did.

It also didn’t help that that conclusion of that lavender haze just happened to coincide with the St. Louis Blues’ worst losing streak, landing them in last place, not just in the division or the conference, but within the entire league. And the playoffs were just over the horizon.

Glancing back at the clock, you sigh. You are ready to give up, call it quits and change back into your comfy old sweatpants when you hear the doorknob turn. Your boyfriend’s laughter echoes around your apartment, the voices of Colton and Robert also filling the quiet evening.

You exit the kitchen and walk into the living room, your eyes landing on Joel, his arms slung over Colton and Robert Bortuzzo’s shoulders respectively. He doesn’t notice you at first, his eyes focused down as he attempts to kick off his shoes. You cross your arms and clear your throat and it is that noise that brings his attention up to you.

“Babe!” he shouts, his face flushed and eyes hazy.

“Hey,” Colton greets you as he supports his teammate’s weight. “Sorry, he got drunk tonight. We tried to take him home but he insisted we bring him here.”

You let out a small hum, the anger boiling in your stomach as you take in Joel’s inebriated state. Instead of moving toward him, fawning over him or laughing at him like you normally would, your feet stay glued to the floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you see both Colton and Robert look you up and down, taking in your dress and heels. The tense atmosphere is palpable and not even Joel’s incoherent babbling can stop them from realizing that the drunken man between them had royally fucked up.

You let out a heavy sigh, gritting your teeth, your body sinking in defeat. This was not the situation that you had planned for the night and you had half a mind to throw him out. However, you were never the one to cause a scene and you weren’t about to get into it with Joel when he probably couldn’t even walk straight, let alone think straight.

“You can take him to the guest bedroom,” you say. “Down the hall to the left.”

You can almost feel the relief that came off in waves from Robert and Colton as they started to half walk, half drag Joel down the hall, you following close behind. Joel didn’t seem to understand anything happening around him until they guided him towards the guest bedroom and away from yours.

“Wait, where are we going?” he mumbled, trying to move his body back in the direction of your bedroom. “This isn’t the way to bed, guys. And I should know. I’ve been there a bunch of times.”

You fight back the urge to scream at Joel’s not-so-subtle innuendo, already feeling embarrassed about the situation he had put you in. Instead, you help shove him onto the mattress of the guest bed, watching as your boyfriend flounders against the covers. Joel tries to lift himself up but both Robert and Colton push him back. His eyes dart from his friends over to you, those hazel irises wide as he looks up at you like a neglected puppy dog. It takes all your effort to keep your icy demeanor.

“Babe, why can’t I sleep in your bed?”

“I don’t want you puking all over my sheets,” you say cooly, even though everyone else in the room knew the real reason why he was being banished to the guest bedroom. Joel doesn’t notice your coldness and instead shoots a goofy grin in your direction, his head hitting the pillow, curls flying wildly as he mumbles that he promises not to. You roll your eyes, having heard enough of his so-called promises in the past few weeks.

Robert clears his throat and you turn to him and Colton, awkwardly standing in the room next to you. You sigh, walking away from Joel and leading them out into the hallway and back to your front door.

“Thanks for getting him here safe boys,” you say, holding the door open for them as they walk over the threshold and out into the hallway.

“Of course,” Colton says, shooting you a sympathetic smile. You start to close the door but just before it shuts completely, you hear the small chirp that leaves Robert’s lips.

“Not sure how safe he’s going to be in there.”

You fasten the lock on your front door before you let your head fall forward, gently hitting your forehead against the wood, the anger still radiating from your tense body. Bortz doesn’t know how right he is. To say you are livid is the understatement of the year. You want nothing more than to tear Joel a new one but you know that doing that now would be pointless.

So instead, you take a few deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth. Then you turn back into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with cold water from the Brita filter in your fridge. After grabbing the small case of Tylenol from your purse, you wander back to the guest bedroom.

Joel is curled up on the bed, still completely dressed except for the shoes that he managed to remove at your front door. You hate the way your heart softens as you take in his sleeping face, his lips slightly parted and his curls wild against the pillowcase. Moving over to the nightstand, you place the glass of water and aspirin down and move to leave when Joel reaches out and manages to grab your hand. You look down at him, his eyes now half opened and his thumb gently caressing the skin on your wrist.

“Come to bed,” he mumbles, slightly tugging you towards him. You gently remove your hand from his grasp and take a few steps back from him.

“Not tonight.”

You reach the threshold of the room, ready to leave when you hear Joel’s voice call your name and you turn your body, your eyes connecting with his.

“You look really pretty,” he murmurs.

Normally, a smile would tug at the corner of your lips in response to his compliment. But your face stays frozen in its apathy as you watch Joel’s eyes close once more. You are silent as you push yourself out the door and walk into the peace of your own bedroom. It isn’t until you are curled under the covers, your dress exchanged for pajamas and your face scrubbed free of makeup, do the tears finally start to fall.

In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone.

Everything about this situation was stressing you out.

The hockey fan in you was stressed because you had just sat through 20 excruciating minutes of the Blues getting almost no time in the offensive zone and you practically screamed every time Jordan was forced to make a save.

The other part of you was stressed because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to be this worried about the boys.

It was still true that you cared about the team and wanted nothing more than for them to win this. You wanted to hug Devon and Dayna when Jay scored a goal that deflected off Ryan’s stick, getting the Blues on the board first. You wanted to scream and jump with Jayne when Alex scored in the last 10 seconds of the first period. And you definitely felt the thrum of pride run through you when Joel laid down in front of a shot by Sean Kuraly, potentially preventing a Bruins goal.

But it felt almost wrong to care this much.

The only reason you got into hockey was because of Joel. You learned the game for him, cheered for him, celebrated every win and mourned every loss. With him. And now, you were no longer his.

It wasn’t right for you to act like you were still a member of this group. Because you would just be lying to yourself. And it would just make it that much harder to leave.

You couldn’t let yourself fall into that comfortable complacency, pretending that everything was alright. That everything was different.

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

You woke up, your heart heavy and your eyes puffy. It took a moment to shake off the groggy haze that hung over you, to remember the reason why your heart felt like it had gone five rounds in a boxing ring, but eventually, the events of last night came flooding back to you.

The sound of the clock ticking on the wall. Your feet aching in your heels. Joel’s slurred words. The way his hand felt intwined in yours. Your tears falling onto the pillowcase.

You didn’t want to face him but he was in your apartment, sleeping a few doors down from you. There wasn’t no way to avoid the inevitable confrontation. With a huff of breath, you raise yourself from your bed, the sheets falling from your body, your bare feet connect with the cold hardwood floor.

You quietly open the door and walk down the hall, ignoring the urge to walk into the guest bedroom and check on Joel. Instead, you pad into your kitchen and start to make your morning cup of coffee. It is when you are standing in front of the machine watching your mug fill, do you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“Mornin’” you hear Joel mumble into your shoulder as his lips press against your bare skin. Every fiber of your body wants to melt into his embrace but you resist, choosing instead to shrug yourself out of his grasp. You take your mug from the machine and walk over to one of the stools at the end of your island, sitting down so your body faces him. You take a small sip, still not acknowledging Joel standing stunned in the place you left him.

“Babe?” His questioning voice causes you to look up and you can feel a flare of anger appear at the sight of his confused expression painted on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

His ignorant question is the breaking point and you practically slam your mug onto the cold marble in front of you, some of the hot liquid sloshing over the side. Your eyes connect with his as the vindictive rage you had been holding in for almost twelve hours finally starts to pour out of you.

“Do you really have to ask that Joel?” you spit out, not even attempting to hide the pure venom in your voice. “Let’s start with the fact that last night, I spent almost two hours waiting for you in this goddamn kitchen. Do you remember why? It was because we had a date. You were supposed to pick me up and we were supposed to go out to that cute little bistro by the river.”

You see his eyes widen as he takes in the information, remembering the plans that the two of you had. His reaction makes your wrath feel righteous. Joel’s mouth opens as if to say something, perhaps an apology, but you cut him off before he can even utter a sound.

“And then, the moment I was about to call it quits, to give up and go to bed and call you in the morning, after trying to call you multiple times that night, what happens? You come stumbling into my house, practically being carried by Parayko and Bortuzzo. So, instead of spending a beautiful night with your girlfriend, you decided to what? Get drunk with your friends? And then insist that they bring you here so I can take care of you?”

“Babe I’m so sorry, I –” Joel starts to say but you stop him.

“I’m not your maid, or you mother, or your fucking side-chick, Joel. I’m your girlfriend. I am not some shiny thing that you can play with when you get bored and then toss to the side when something new catches your interest.”

You see his eyes darken at your words and Joel takes two long strides over to where you were sitting.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he grits out, now towering over you. In any other situation, you might shrink and back down, always the mediator. But this time, you are just too livid to care.

“What it means is if you want me, you need to start giving a shit about me. That means keeping your promises and showing up when I fucking ask you to.”

“I’m sorry, alright. Is that what you want to hear?” he says, his voice raising in frustration.

“I want to hear why you chose getting shit-faced with your friends over picking me up for the date we had planned for weeks.”

“Jesus, it slipped my mind. We were just hanging out and Bortz suggested we drink and it just got out of hand. We were all stressed about the team and it just seemed like the best thing to do. You understand that we are in last place!? If we don’t start winning games, we can kiss any chance of the playoffs goodbye. Part of my fucking job is to try and fix that, but I can’t do that when you are demanding all of my attention.”

Your mouth drops open, a scoff leaving your lips as your brain registers Joel’s accusation.

“Excuse me? I’m demanding all of your attention? I’m not the one who showed up drunk on the doorstep, begging to be coddled like a child.”

“Oh, get over it. I showed up, didn’t I? I remembered you. You know how many girls I could get, how many are lurking in my DM’s waiting for their chance. You’re lucky that even though I was drunk, I didn’t run to one of them. Although, maybe I should’ve. They would’ve taken care of me and they definitely wouldn’t be busting my balls right now.”

His words take you aback, cutting through you down to your core and you can feel the sting of tears in the corner of your eyes. Joel knew all your insecurities and here he was, using that knowledge to hurt you deeper than anyone else could.

“Get. The fuck. Out of my house,” you grit out, your chest heaving as you try to control your breathing. Your voice is quiet but hard as you stare down the man in front of you. Although you will for it not to happen, a tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek and you see Joel’s eye dart to it, the color draining from his face as he realizes what he’s said.

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he babbles, dropping to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands. You rip them away from his grasp and let the floodgates open. The tears flow freely now and the hurt that had settled in your sternum tickles up your throat.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t you dare imply that the girls in your DM’s care more about you than I do. They’re not the ones who make your pre-game meals and drive you to practice and let you rant about anything: trade rumors or ice times or bullshit calls. They don’t give a fuck about you, Joel. All they care about is your looks and the price tag attached to your name. But fine. If you want someone who’s only good for a night, someone who’s not going to tie you down and hold you accountable and challenge you while still caring about you and loving you… then we’re done. Now there’s nothing stopping you from getting what you want.”

You lift yourself off the stool and walk back towards your bedroom, leaving Joel kneeling on the floor. The door latches behind you and you wait. For what, you aren’t entirely sure. It’s only after you hear the echoing of the front door shutting, do your knees give out and you drop to the ground, your sobs racking through your now empty apartment.

That is where you stay until you have no tears left, your energy completely drained. You are sure your heart has broken into a million little pieces and if someone were to cut you open, the crimson flood would pulse out, staining everything around you. But the worst part would be that it would beat out to the rhythm of one phrase, the one phrase that you had never said to anyone else;

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.

You couldn’t do this.

Somehow you managed to sit through another period and every time Joel stepped out onto the ice, your eyes were glued to him. You watched as he continued to play his game, dumping pucks into the offensive zone, blocking shots, helping puck movement, setting up multiple opportunities for his teammates to score.

When you watched him on the ice, you understood why you fell for him. He was kind and unselfish. He wanted to help the team even if it didn’t mean any glory for him. That was the type of person he was.

And when the buzzer sounded signaling the end of the second period, you felt your heart reaching out to him as he exited down the tunnel towards the locker room.

You couldn’t do this.

You jump from your seat and push your way past the other Better Halves, out of the suite. It takes a while for you to find a semi-secluded staircase in the winding corridors of the club level but when you do, you sink onto the carpeted stairs, ready to hide for the rest of the game in your makeshift oasis. Your head falls into your upturned palms as you try to calm your breathing. You are so caught up your emotions that you don’t notice a body crouch down in front of you.

The soft call of your name bounces off the walls and you look up to lock eyes with Jayne Pietrangelo, a sympathetic expression painted on her face.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

“Bullshit.”

The quiet conviction in her voice startles you at first but her steady gaze causes your walls to crumble. Before you can even blink, she has you wrapped in a hug, squeezing you tight as if she could make everything better by just holding you. You aren’t ashamed to say that is almost worked.

Jayne was one of the first people to welcome you into the group and you were pretty sure she thought that you and Joel were end game before that idea even crossed your mind. She became like a big sister to you and when you ended things with Joel, she was one of the few calls you picked up in the days after.

She lets you push your face into the denim jacket she was wearing as she gently strokes your hair. After you manage to compose yourself, she pulls back from you, forcing you to lock eyes with her.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she softly demands and you almost let out a laugh at her demeanor. Alex’s captain tendencies must have rubbed off on her because here she was, ready to coach you through anything.

“I just can’t do this,” you sigh out, your head shaking as your eyes dart to the ceiling.

“Can’t do what?”

“Be here. Watch him. I don’t belong here anymore.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

All Jayne does is let out a small hum as she comes to sit next to you. You two stay there in quiet contemplation, your mind racing a mile a minute as you wait for her to say something, anything that will make you feel better.

“I’m not going to stop you from leaving, if that’s what you want to do,” Jayne says, her eyes sliding over to connect with yours. “But I think you are ignoring the real question. Instead of asking yourself if you’re allowed to be here or if you even want to be here, you need to understand why you’re here. Why did you decide to come to a place where you knew you were going to re-live some painful memories? You knew what you were walking into and yet you still came.”

She turns to you, her hands reaching out to grip yours as she stares at you, her eyes cutting you open and laying out your soul like the pages of an old book.

“So, tell me. Why are you here?”

Her question rattles around your brain as you search for the answer. The lies are easy to think of, ready to fall from your lips: it’s a Stanley Cup Final game, you didn’t have anything else to do, Daphne asked you to come, you wanted to see all the girls again.

But you knew the real reason you said yes; the real reason you found an old oversized Blues sweatshirt in the back of your closet that still smelled faintly of cologne, the real reason you walked to TD Garden after spending months trying to forget about anything that reminded you of St. Louis. And he was sitting in a locker room a few dozen feet below you, with only 20 minutes left in a game that most players dreamed about, hoping that he would be able to hoist the greatest trophy in sports.

“I wanted to be here for him. Win or lose,” you say, the words still a little unsteady after being locked in your heart for six months. You take a deep breath and let yourself continue, allowing the confession you had been denying every time it appeared in your head fall from your lips.

“Because I love him. I still love him.”

Jayne says nothing for a few moments, letting your words hang in the air before she shoots you a gentle smile.

“That’s enough of a reason for you to stay.”

She gets up, holding out her hand to you. Looking up at her, you allow yourself to smile, the first genuine grin flooding your face. You take her hand and let her lift you off the staircase and lead you back to the suite where the rest of your friends were waiting.

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.

You were a wreck since your fight with Joel. He had tried to call you multiple times but you let it go to voicemail every time. And as the days passed, the calls became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether.

A week later, you came home to find a small box sitting on your doorstep. Inside was all the things you had left at Joel’s place with a small note sitting on the top.

“I’m sorry.”

You had never cried more in your life than you did that evening.

After laying in your bed for hours on end, binge eating chocolate, and binge watching the same three TV shows, you finally decided it was time to stop wallowing in your sadness and try to move on. The next day, you cleared out everything in your house that reminded you of Joel and let yourself get lost in the effort of forgetting him.

It wasn’t easy.

You still sometimes woke up before the sun, your body telling you it was time to get Joel to practice. When you had a bad day, you found yourself making his favorite meal, as if his sadness had melded with yours. Whenever you turned on the news, you always managed to catch it in time to hear the sports section. You found yourself listening to how the Blues were winning again, pulling themselves out of last place and continually pushing themselves towards the playoffs. You resisted the urge to dial Joel’s number, still stored in your phone, and congratulate him after every win or console him after a loss.

As a distraction, you threw yourself into your work, getting tasks done at a breakneck speed and being more productive than you had ever been. You managed to have the best work quarter of your life and your reviews were through the roof. Although, you didn’t really take note of it because you weren’t trying to impress your boss or the company. You were simply trying to stop your mind from focusing on something else, like the feeling of freshly washed curls between your fingers and a smile that outshined the stars.

So, the day your boss called you into her office, the last thing you were expecting her was a promotion. And you certainly weren’t expecting to pack your things and move to Boston after accepting said promotion.

But part of you was relieved to be leaving. It would be much easier to forget about Joel in a city where most people didn’t even know his name. When you landed in Boston, you thought that this would be the place where everything you left behind would fade away.

And you were right. At least, for a few months.

You made new friends and went out to bars and brunches. You continued to work your ass off at your job, now working to prove yourself instead of just working to forget. You didn’t realize that Joel hadn’t even crossed your mind for a long time.

Then one night, when you were out dancing with friends, a handsome stranger pulled you into his lips. And it felt good. You felt free for the first time in a while, believing that your heart was finally mending after everything it had been through.

But that night, after you went home alone and crashed into your bed with your head pounding from the alcohol in your veins, you dreamt of Joel. Of him holding you tight and hearing his heartbeat pound in his chest.

You woke up the next day with the most exquisite ache in your chest and a desperate desire to be wrapped up in his arms once more. Then, when you were walking home from the grocery store that same day, you thought you saw him standing on the corner.

It wasn’t him, of course. But just the mere possibility of seeing him again had you almost dropping your bags onto the sidewalk and rushing into the arms of a complete stranger who just so happened to look like your ex-boyfriend.

That was the moment you knew you were fucked.

Soon, you found yourself turning on the TV, watching hockey games for the first time in months. And when the Bruins won the East and the Blues won the West, you realized that your two worlds were colliding. The world with Joel and the world after him were crashing together and you would be caught up in the carnage. But you were ready for it.

So, when you received a text message from Daphne, who you hadn’t spoken to since you left St. Louis, you answered it. And when she mentioned that Yana couldn’t make the games as she had just given birth to Vladi and hers second son, your heart waited for her to ask the question you hoped to hear. And when she asked if you wanted to come to Game 7 with her, the tug in your heart had made the decision long before you got the words out.

If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

That was how you found yourself standing in the suite with all the other St. Louis Better Halves, watching as the final minutes of the final period counted down.

After Jayne pulled you back to the seats, you decided to let yourself go. No more holding back your emotions, no more resisting the feelings that had been churning inside you since you stepped foot in the arena. Instead, you screamed with the rest of the girls when Brayden scored another goal to put the Blues up three to nothing. You held breath, squeezing Daphne’s hand as you all watched Vince lead a three-man breakaway, silently praying for something good to come from that opportunity. And you jumped and hugged the girls when Zach scored a fourth goal with less than five minutes left.

And now, you were on your feet, one hand clasped in Daphne’s and the other clasped in Jayne’s, your heart pounding as you watched the clock on the scoreboard in front of you drop to seconds as the final minute of play began.

You could see the bench, the boys on their feet and as every second ticked by, they grew closer and closer to victory. Your eyes looked for Joel, wanting to memorize every minute of his reaction when the final buzzer sounded. It took you a little while to locate him in the crowd but once you did, your eyes never strayed from his body.

He was bouncing with excitement, the anticipation buzzing through him. You could see him slowly realize that this was going to happen, that he was going to be a Stanley Cup champion and when Jaden shoots the puck towards the blue line and it sails past Krejci, onto the other side of the rink, you watched him leap over the bench, throwing his gloves and stick into the air as he rushed to the goal, slamming into the pile of his teammates, all cheering because they finally, finally achieved what they had been working their whole life towards.

You almost collapse under the pure excitement rushing though you, the screams of the other girls echoing around the box and they celebrated. They were hugging and cheering but you kept your eyes on the ice, watching as the boys embraced each other. You felt tears welling in your eyes and it wasn’t until Jayne pulled you into a hug did you tear your focus away from the sweaty mop of curls.

“They did it!” she screamed and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. You hugged her back and found yourself going around to the other girls, who celebrated with you like nothing had changed. Because nothing had changed. Just because you weren’t with Joel didn’t mean that these girls weren’t your friends. You had become a part of their lives and you were ready to celebrate with them for as long as they would have you. You hoped that would be a long time.

Daphne held you tight as the two of you jumped up and down, screaming incoherently at the fact that this did indeed happen. That Vince was a Stanley Cup Champion. That Joel was a Stanley Cup Champion. That the St. Louis Blues were Stanley Cup Champions.

All the girls turned their attention to the ice as the Conn Smythe trophy was presented and you swore that almost everyone jumped into Dayna’s arms when Ryan’s name was announced over the loudspeaker. It was a few moments until finally, the Stanley Cup was carried out onto the ice. You watched the boys, lined up, arms wrapped around each other as they took in the trophy that was finally theirs.

And when Alex skated forward and hoisted the Cup over his head, you cheered louder than you had in your entire life.

You watched as the Cup made its way down the lineup, passing between players, each one of them unable to contain their excitement and joy. Daphne pulled you close when Vince had his turn, lifting it above him and you could see the tears in her eyes as she watched the man she loved celebrate. And she held you next to her when Joel finally got his hands on the Cup.

The joy in your heart was indescribable as you watched him carry the 35-pound trophy, cheering and pressing kisses to the silver metal. It was exactly the moment you had wanted for him since you first started dating. It was what you dreamed about at every home game, his name and number proudly displayed on your back. It was what you had hoped for when you watched him on your television for the previous six games of the finals. And it was everything you had wished for ever since you walked into TD Garden almost two hours ago.

The girls were moving, picking up their things and heading out of the box, presumably to go down to the ice to congratulate their men on a hard-fought victory. A wave of doubt settled over you and you shifted your weight between your feet, unsure if you should, or were even allowed, to go down with them. It wasn’t until Daphne grabbed one hand and Jayne grabbed the other did you start to move.

You all make your way down the corridors, pushing past people and flashing your security passes. Your heart rate increases once you reach the end of the tunnel. The lights were still shining bright, causing the ice to blind you as you step onto the rink. The three of you carefully shuffle across the ice, the atmosphere still electric with the energy buzzing off the players and staff.

Jayne was the first to break away from your group, running towards Alex who was currently being interviewed. You see the reporter notice Jayne hurrying over and give Alex a nudge in her direction. His face instantly brightens the moment he sees her and he skates over, embracing her.

It wasn’t long before Vince spotted Daphne. As soon as his eyes land on her, he was rushing towards her and she dropped your hand to meet him halfway. You watch as he pulls her close to kiss her deeply, her hands tangling in his hair.

As happy as you were for all of them, both the players and your friends, their joy and intimacy left you feeling awkward as you stand alone in center ice. You weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to be doing, if anything. While the girls welcomed you with open arms, you weren’t that close to the other players or staff. Most of them hadn’t seen you since you ended things with Joel.

It was when you caught the eye of Colton Parayko did you really feel like a deer in headlights.

Colton’s eyes flicker behind you, looking for Joel, wondering if he had seen you. Glancing back at you, he stood there a moment longer, taking you in. Then, that familiar crooked smile broke out on his face and the breath you didn’t know you had been holding rushed out of you. You mirrored his grin, your body relaxing as he gave you a small wave. You laughed and returned his gesture before he skated away, going to celebrate with his family.

His quiet reassurance was all you needed to feel certain that you were meant to be here.

You slowly spin, finally taking in the joy surrounding you, letting it soak into your skin. You watch Vladi sit on the edge of the rink as he calls Yana, see Laila walking over to Colton and see him wrap her into a giant hug, look over towards Patty lifting his son Anthony onto his shoulders, still shouting and pumping his fists in the air.

You were so caught up in enjoying the moment that you didn’t notice a pair of eyes attach to your frame. It wasn’t until you completed your circle did your gaze fall on Joel, his gaze already locked on you.

A towel was slung around his neck, the Stanley Cup Championship hat perched on his head. And he was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You were sure you looked the same way.

You both stand there, a few feet away, simply drinking in the sight of seeing one another in person for the first time in months.

You feel your heart swell as you take him in, the joy still emulating from his body. Words couldn’t describe how happy you were for him. Even if he was no longer a part of your life, you were happy to see him succeed. You wanted him to know that.

Part of you would always love him, that much you were certain of. But part of you knew that maybe you two just weren’t meant to be. And for the first time, that thought didn’t send a jolt of pain straight to your chest. Instead, you felt the warm wave of acceptance wash over you.

You let a small smile dance onto your face, connecting your eyes with his and silently sending all the care and admiration you had for him across the ice. And when you looked into his hazel eyes, the ones that you missed waking up to every morning, you let only one thought reverberate within your mind:

I love you.

And when he smiled back, his eyes sparkling like they always did, you knew that he was thinking the same thing.

But it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.

You had never felt happier than you did in this moment. The sky was a perfect blue above you, the sun shining on your bare skin, its light refracting off the soft waves on the lake.

You lean back, your feet gently kick in the water off the end of the boat and your eyes close as you let the peaceful contentment soak into your bones. You feel a form settle behind you, a pair of arms coming to wrap around your waist and pull you close. Eyes opening, you glance back to see Joel, a light sun-kissed hue now dusting his nose and cheekbones. A soft smile makes its way onto your lips, causing him to grin back at you.

“Hey pretty lady.”

“Hi,” you softly whisper out.

“What are you doing back here?” he asks, pulling you even closer, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You lean your head against him, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing. Just relaxing.”

Joel just hums in reply, letting the silence return as your bodies press against each other, simply supporting the other’s weight and taking in the moment.

When Joel mentioned his captain’s idea of taking a couple of boats out to Lincoln Lake with the team and their better halves for some bonding and relaxing before the season started and the hectic schedule pushed everyone in different directions, you had to admit you were unsure whether you should go. You had only just started dating Joel. But as soon as you made it out onto the water, you found yourself laughing with the other girls, as if you had known each other forever.

“I’m happy you decided to come,” you hear Joel mumble. And when you glance back, you can see the pure love pouring from his hazel irises. You let yourself lift your head up towards him, connecting your lips to his. You can smell the sunscreen on his skin, taste the rosé on his lips. Your fingers tangle into his sun-bleached curls, and in that moment, you realized that you never wanted to let him go. You pull away from him, your lips still gently upturned as you bring your eyes back to his.

“Of course I came. Where else would I be?”

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ sorlos-world @svexhenthusiast

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#nicole writes #joel edmundson fic #joel edmundson imagine #joel edmundson angst #la kings fic #la kings imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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theartofcollapse · 2 days ago

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Hello, I really love all your work! ❤️❤️ Was wondering if I can request R x Casey Novak where r is kinda hesitant getting into a relationship with her cause her job? Maybe happy ending just cause it is Christmas 😂

a/n: thank you so much. I hope you like this one as well🤍 i'm taking requests, so feel free to leave a message :) summary: read above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.5K

masterlist

Legal Bindings - Casey Novak

Casey and you first met when you were called as a witness for one of Casey’s cases. You worked as a social worker, and your testimony had been crucial in securing a conviction. After the trial, Casey had approached you to thank you personally, and what started as a professional conversation quickly turned into something more.

You’d been casually dating for about two months, sharing coffee dates, occasional dinners, late night conversations on the phone, romantic walks at night around Central Park.

You’ve always admired Casey’s passion and dedication as an ADA, but getting close to someone whose job constantly exposed them to darkness was daunting, especially when that someone was Casey Novak, fierce, relentless, and prone to putting her job above all else.

The low hum of conversation filled the cozy coffee shop as you sat across from Casey, stirring your latte absentmindedly. She was radiant as always, her auburn hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, her green eyes focused entirely on you. It should’ve been comforting, flattering even, but instead, it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been quiet,” Casey said, her voice soft yet probing. “That’s not like you.”

You shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.”

Her head tilted, concern flickering in her gaze. “About what?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything at all. You liked Casey, more than liked her, actually, but the reality of who she was and what she did loomed over you like a shadow. It wasn’t her fault; she was incredible. But incredible came with a price, and you weren’t sure you were ready to pay it.

“Us,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Casey leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting from concern to cautious curiosity. “What about us?”

You took a deep breath, staring down at your coffee. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Her brows furrowed, and for the first time since you’d met her, she looked genuinely taken aback. “You don’t think we’re a good idea?”

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, your words tumbling over each other. “It’s your job. The cases you handle, the hours you work, it’s a lot, Casey and I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she studied you, her sharp mind clearly working to piece together what you weren’t saying outright. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Y/N, I know my job is intense,” she said, choosing her words wisely. “But it’s also just that, a job. It doesn’t define me.”

You met her eyes, your throat tightening. “But it does affect you. You go home with the weight of those cases on your shoulders. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Casey’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to take your hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You don’t have to compete with anything. Yes, my job can be overwhelming, but it’s also why I need someone like you in my life. Someone who reminds me that there’s still good in the world, that it’s worth fighting for.”

You wanted to believe her. God, did you want to believe her. But the thought of late nights, missed dates, and the constant worry that her work would take too much from her - maybe even from you - kept you rooted in hesitation.

“I don’t want to lose myself in this, Casey,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Her grip on your hand tightened, and she leaned in even closer, her eyes boring into yours. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen. And if it ever feels like too much, you can tell me. I’ll listen. I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

The sincerity in her voice, the determination, it was almost enough to tip the scales. Almost.

“I just… I need time,” you said, pulling your hand back gently.

Casey nodded, though you could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Despite your doubts, a small part of you, a hopeful, reckless part, wanted to believe her. Because if anyone could make it work, it was Casey Novak.

You weren’t sure what made you say yes when Casey asked you to meet her again the following week. Maybe it was the way she said, “no pressure,” or maybe it was the way her voice softened, almost pleading, when she’d said, “I’d really like to see you again.”

So here you were, standing in front of her apartment door with a bottle of wine in your hand and nerves twisting in your stomach. This felt big, too big. You told yourself you could still back out, but before you could entertain the thought, the door swung open, revealing Casey in jeans and a casual sweater, a rare sight that made her look softer, more approachable.

“Hey,” she said, smiling like she’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Come on in.”

You stepped inside, noting the space. It was neat but lived-in, with books and case files stacked on her coffee table and a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of her couch. It was the kind of home that reflected someone who was always busy but tried to make the most of the little free time they had.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, leading you to the kitchen, where the faint aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air.

“You cook?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Casey chuckled, setting out plates. “I had to learn at some point. Takeout gets old fast.”

You set the wine down on the counter, watching as she moved around the kitchen with ease. It was strange seeing her like this, so relaxed and normal. You weren’t used to thinking of her that way. To you, Casey had always been larger than life, a force of nature in the courtroom, all sharp edges and fiery determination.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Just not used to seeing this side of you.”

She smiled, handing you a glass of wine. “That’s the point, isn’t it? For you to get to know me, not just the ADA, but the person behind it.”

You took a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the way her words made your heart ache. You wanted to know her, but part of you still wasn’t sure if it was safe to let yourself fall.

Dinner was simple but delicious, and Casey kept the conversation light, asking about your day, your interests, and steering clear of anything that might remind you of her work. It was nice, easy, even, but you could tell she was holding back, trying too hard to make this comfortable for you.

Afterward, the two of you settled on the couch, a comfortable silence stretching between you as you nursed your wine.

“I meant what I said before,” Casey said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

You turned to look at her, your brow furrowing. “About what?”

“About this,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know my job makes things complicated. But I want this. I want you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “What if it’s not enough? What if you get so caught up in your work that there’s no room for anything else?”

Casey reached out, taking your hand in hers. “Then you call me out on it. You remind me why I’m doing this, why it’s worth fighting for. Because I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let my job take me away from the people who matter most to me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but real nonetheless.

“Okay,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “Let’s try.”

A slow smile spread across Casey’s face, and she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “But if it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you. And you have to listen.”

“Deal,” Casey said, her smile widening.

For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing worth having ever was, but as Casey leaned closer, her lips brushing yours in a tentative, hopeful kiss, you thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

#fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #2024 #english #casey novak x reader #casey novak x y/n #ada casey novak #casey novak #law and order #law and order svu #detective #olivia benson #elliot stabler #odafin tutuola #john munch #alex cabot

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carlos-in-glasses · 24 hours ago

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There's something I need to get off my smutty chest about Tarlos having kids and the true reason I wasn't into the idea at first (and have since come around).

(Before and during season 4) I was uncertain about Tarlos having kids because – in all honesty – they are the Hot Sex couple. How are they supposed to have Hot Sex whenever and wherever, while there are kids in the house? Surely they aren’t. They can’t. And, selfishly, how would that impact how I want to write them in my canon-compliant/very canon-adjacent fics?

However. As time passed, the idea of them becoming dads overwhelmed me with not just how adorable it is (and it IS! That little 'room' they've made for Jonah that looks like it has a race car bed?? Come onnn!!!! My heart!!!) but how radical, when for so long same-sex couples not having kids was the default because they were not allowed to do it. But now they can, and I am so moved and excited for them to permanently adopt a child and represent that particular progress. I think it's important to remember that what we are seeing on screen with Tarlos is radical already, and I know it might not seem like it because the sexy times moment in 5x05 was so brief, but it really is. Same-sex marriage was legalised five minutes ago. Seeing same-sex couples in media raising a family is still massive and frankly in this current age, essential. With Tarlos we’ve been so lucky to have both: a storyline about how one part of a couple isn’t ready for kids, which I feel like we never see and was very interesting, and we have a storyline where they both become ready (unfortunately rushed and we’re only going to see three seconds of it, but still. Still!). I’m sure if the show were continuing, they wouldn’t have done a kids storyline for them yet anyway, or they would have told one with room to breathe. So, there is also an allowance to make for completing their arc as a couple under unfortunate circumstances. It might be a speed-run, but it was always how their story would end, and we are lucky we get a proper ending at all. We get to see them make choices, make mistakes, and change, which allows them to be even richer as characters imo.

All this is to say – if you, like me, are dubious about them having kids because of the sex thing and are trying to reason it out – it's okay to say it. Or I've decided it's okay to admit it anyway lol. Personally, I have come to the conclusion that they are still going to be the Hot Sex couple. Because they are still them. They are Tarlos. And they are OURS. They are going to have Hot Hot Hot Sex because they are going to really want it. And isn’t that delicious? Whenever the kids aren’t around, they are going to be all over each other. They are going to bonk in every corner of their suburban home. And in the yard. The back porch swing. The roof. They are going to need to do house repairs often, because of this. Their neighbours will hate them. And as it should be. They are per-canon obsessed with having sex with each other. Also! Having said all this: They can be written by fic writers as childless. That's completely fine. Or, any and all fics can be set pre. 5x08 if that's what people want to do. I might want to do that for the most part if it's easier to tell a specific story. I don't know yet! In any case:

Tarlos is going to be happy. Afterglow is their resting state.

In the words of Ghost Gwyn, it is all going to be okay.

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #gay dads #911 Lone Star spoilers #is him becoming ready

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caesariawritesstuff · 3 days ago

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Under the Mistletoe

Summary: As a meager filing assistant for the GCPD, the last thing you expected was to be tricked under the mistletoe by a certain Edward Nygma.

Word Count: 1,244

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful day!

Holidays at the GCPD were something you never looked forward to it. It wasn’t the Christmas music, or the decorations, or the holiday spirit that got you down. In fact, you rather enjoyed it. But this time of year it seemed like all of Gotham’s criminals were out in full swing. And as a meager filing assistant, that left you with mountains of paperwork to sort through and put away.

You were dreading today, especially, since it was Christmas Eve. All you wanted was to spend the rest of your day huddled up on your couch, drinking hot chocolate and watching Christmas movies, but alas, you were forced to stay until your shift at ended at five. But as you walked into the GCPD, rubbing your cold hands together, you smiled at the decorations all around. Garland had been wrapped around the bannisters, and a small Christmas tree had been set up in one of the empty corners.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Edward Nygma fussing with it, adjusting the branches and ornaments hanging on it. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, studying his work. Ah, it must’ve been him who went through all this trouble to decorate the GCPD. Though…you admitted you appreciated what he did. Unlike everyone else, who seemed to walk right over to work he put in, you took notice of it.

Smiling, you stepped closer to him. “Hi, Ed,” you said.

He jumped, your voice taking him aback. But he turned to you, once more pushing the glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose. “Hello,” he said, addressing you. “I thought you would’ve had Christmas Eve off.”

“I could say the same for you,” you laughed.

He smiled, shuffling back and forth between his feet. “Did you know that in order to deliver gifts on Christmas Eve to every child on Earth, Santa would have to travel 221 billion miles, spending .0002 of a second at each home?”

“Oh really?” you asked, a bit surprised, but that was Ed for you – he was always spouting some strange trivia, fact, or riddle unprompted. But you smiled. “And just how did you figure that out?”

“Simple math,” he said, quickly explaining the complex equation that one would need to calculate Santa’s speed and delivery method.

You shook your head, laughing. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here discussing how long it takes Santa to deliver presents,” you said. “Anyways, it looks great Ed. Now I need to get to work before I get yelled at.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “See you around.”

You smiled and walked away, hurrying over to your desk. But as you sat down, you were surprised to find a small candy cane resting atop several folders. A small ribbon with a green note was attached to it, and when you opened the card, you discovered a riddle inside.

I always need to stay on my toes. I guide Santa's sleigh with my shiny red nose. Who am I?

Rudolph, obviously. You smiled. Ah, of course. Ed must’ve left it. It had the classic, tell-tale signs of something he’d do. You were sure he’d left one for everyone at their desks, it was the sort of kind, thoughtful gesture he’d do. You made a mental note to thank him later, but for now, you pushed your distractions aside and focused on the task at hand.

Time passed slowly and you worked for what felt like hours. When it finally came time for you to file some of the paperwork away, you stood and wandering into one of the nearby filing rooms, ready to deposit the folders into their designated spots. You’re just about to set one aside when you noticed a reindeer resting atop one filing cabinets. Rudolph, to be exact. And tucked underneath him was another candy cane, bearing a similar ribbon. Your curiosity piqued, you wandered over and grabbed the candy cane, opening the next note.

You can hold me and shake me, but I’m easy to break. I have lots of snow, even though it’s all fake! What am I?

A snow globe, you realized after a few moments of consideration. But you couldn’t help but wonder just what this meant, or where a snow globe even was. You wondered if there was another riddle hidden somewhere near a snow globe. Determined, you wandered out of the GCPD and through it’s halls, taking in all the Christmas decorations you could find. That was when you spotted it – a snow globe resting over on one of the desks. And just as you suspected, you found a third candy cane resting there. Once more, you picked it up and opened the note attached.

This is a green plant you see towards the end of the year, and when you stand under it, you might kiss somebody dear. What is it?

A mistletoe, you realized. Which meant there had to be a fourth candy cane hidden somewhere near another mistletoe. You grinned, wondering what the next riddle would be, finding yourself quite enjoying the little scavenger hunt. It was a nice distraction from the mountains of paperwork piling up before you.

You wandered through the GCPD, searching the doorways and ceilings for any sign of a mistletoe. And there – you spotted it right outside the breakroom, attached to the doorframe, vibrant green and hanging down slightly. You approached, desperate to know what was in store next, but when you wandered under it, you frowned.

Because there was nothing for you. No candy cane, no next riddle. Disappointment settled over you and you put your hands on your hips. Well, this certainly couldn’t be the end of the scavenger hunt, now could it?

That was when you heard a noise, the slight roughness of someone clearing their throat. You turned around to find Ed standing there.

“Hello,” he said, his cheeks pink. “Nice seeing you here.”

You held up one of the candy canes. “You’ve been leaving these around Ed. Tell me what I’m missing at this one?”

“Well, you’re…” he paused. Shifted on his feet, eyes darting everywhere else but you, before finally settling back on your face. “Did you know that mistletoes are actually poison to humans?”

You blinked, surprised. “No, actually. I didn’t know that.”

“You really want to keep it away from pets and children,” he continued quickly.

“Well…thanks for letting me know,” you said. You brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and looked away, unsure of what else to say. “Well, thank you for the candy canes. That’s really sweet.”

You’re just about to walk past him when he says, “Wait – wait. It’s bad luck to not kiss under the mistletoe.”

You paused, looking back at him. Studied the way he rung his hands together nervously, looking back at you and then away. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you smiled. Well, he was pretty cute.

“Mr. Nygma, was this all a ploy to get me under the mistletoe?” you asked.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “What if it was?”

You laughed. For someone who was so shy and awkward, his ploy to get you under the mistletoe was rather sneaky. “Well, you’re quite the riddle, aren’t you?” you asked.

He only grinned wider, but you smiled, grabbed his shoulders, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. Maybe a kiss was the perfect reward for solving his riddles after all.

#caesariawrites #the riddler #edward nigma #edward nygma #gotham edward nygma #gotham tv #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #the riddler fanfic

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zeestarfishalien · 1 day ago

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My Graveyard Song

Chapter 15

[Hey...it's me. I'm not dead! *shows up 8+ months late with coffee from the local stand that runs off of caffeine and chaos* I am chronically slow and no im afraid it probably will not get better. We are getting closer to the end of the story. Love y'all!]

Jason takes care of the bill while Cass let's Barbara know they'll be heading her way. Danny fidgets, food forgotten in his anxiety.

He's kicking himself for not remembering about Jazz. Someone clearly important to Danny and in some sort of trouble the last time that Danny saw her. He doesn't let it slow him down and soon enough he's on his bike with Cass while Danny follows from above.

Babs, bless her soul and praise her endlessly, is all prepared with writing utensils. She has Jason’s set of programmable buttons which he just realized did not come to his place -she must have redirected it here- and the various programs she uses to find people open on her computer and ready to go.

~•~

Since Danny’s memory is vague, there are a lot of files to go through, and Barbara has given him free reign to poke around her little base of operations.

It gives him a reason to not pace. He takes an old broken laptop and starts deconstructing it meticulously. Keeping his hands busy, keeps the rest of his body still and allows his mind to run over endless possibilities without focusing too closely on the worst case scenarios.

Jason is off in the corner, helmet off, murmuring into his Red Hood phone. Danny is purposely listening to the hum of the many fans and the sound of the massive AC used to help keep the super computer cool. He really doesn't wanna eavesdrop, especially if it's about him.

The last piece comes apart in his fingers and he pauses just long enough to feel the buzz beneath his skin get louder and then promptly starts to reassemble the laptop piece by piece.

Judging by how his soul remains within his body, he's successful at distracting himself from the anxious energy.

"It's just putting it to good use," says a voice from the past. It must be something he's done before. Jazz, his mind supplies.

His hands stop.

Jazz said those words to him. He can feel the way her hair tickles his cheek as she leans over his shoulder in an effort to annoy him into listening to her. The gentle squeeze of fingers on his shoulder which contradicts her other actions.

In every inch of her body language there is, love, love, love...

A hand, gentle but less familiar, landing on his shoulder jerks him out of his head. Something wet hits his hand and he flinches, only just now realizing that it's his own tears. He's crying.

He sucks in air through his teeth harshly. The air shudders it's way back out of his body and with it bursts the dam holding back his emotions.

A sob tears its way from his throat. It physically hurts. The sob and the emotions both.

He barely notices how Jason’s attention jerks to him and the stilted words he says into the phone.

"Not them, but we are here," Cass murmurs in a low raspy voice. It's her hand on his shoulder. When she goes to remove it, Danny’s hand snaps up to stop it without thought.

Slowly he pulls her hand across his shoulder, to his face and presses his forehead to meet it part way. He probably looks pathetic like this, clinging to a near-stranger's hand and pressing the back of said hand to his face with such desperation. If he's not careful his ecto might decide that absorbing people is a great new thing to do. It certainly seems to like to do new impossible things every other week.

Or at least it used to. Before...

Will it again? Is he still the same as he was before? He's scared to change back. He's never stayed ghost and gone without air or food or water for so long.

Danny is scared.

He hiccups when Black Bat runs her fingers through his hair. They ghost along his scalp and the familiarity of it has his breath hitching into a sob.

He's a mess. His mind and body twisted and broken in ways he might never be able to repair. He's lost time, so much time... time in which anything could have happened to those he wants to protect. Those he failed to protect.

He barely realizes he's leaning into Black Bat's warmth until her arms circle him. She runs gentle hands in soothing circles along his back. She lets out a sort of chirr from the back of her throat which seems to surprise her.

He needs to know what happened to Jazz. He doesn't want to know what happened. He needs to know how long it's been. He doesn't want to know. He needs to know what's happening now. He doesn't...

His sobbing eventually peeters out into a buzzing whine from his core. Black Bat still holds him. She knows. She knows. She Knows.

She doesn't try to tell him, "It's okay," or any of the useless nonsense many people spout whenever someone around them is in tears. It helps that she knows.

He's not sure how long they stay like that, her crouched next to him, arms looped firmly around each other. Surely she's uncomfortable by now, but she shows no signs of it. He should go back home, with Jason.

(Jason is home now, what a thought that is)

However, whether he's at home or here, he'll be doing the same anxious waiting. At least here, he'll see the information as it comes in. No one can keep it from him in some effort to protect him or something.

(Call him paranoid, but he's pretty certain someone has done something similar in the past.)

His memories are still sparse and unspecific. He'd probably have to sleep in order to retrieve more and he'd really rather not. Sleep feels too much like being trapped again. He thought that was getting better back when he was still a dog, but maybe that's because he was never truly asleep. Even the thought of sleep sends hot jolts through his ice core, an uncomfortable feeling to say the least.

He's thinking too much.

Right before he moves to pull away, Black Bat relaxes her hold and makes it far easier for him to disengage. His core makes a sound not unlike a small stream running over rocks, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

She nods, and grabs the edge of her cape to send it fluttering in a way that she somehow knows conveys, "You're welcome. Safe."

He's not sure how she knows it but that's not all that important to him right now. He turns to the basket of gadgets and electronics to pick out something else to disassemble and cannibalize for parts to add to the partially assembled laptop.

~•~

Jason’s crimelord phone rings not long after they've arrived. Danny is already deconstructing a laptop in a nerve fueled fugue state. Every once in a while his edges do this sort of glitch that's more than a little concerning.

His caller ID says it's Bill. He accepts the call.

"What you got for me, Bill?"

"Ya know that insane amount of footage you asked me to look through for suspicious activity?"

Jason hums an affirmative. Danny doesn't seem to be listening in on Jason’s conversation. Good.

"Well I was startin' to think you was yanking my chain but I found somethin' you might qualify as suspicious activity. I've sent it over our server."

"What is it?"

"Some out of townie wackos takin' some weird coffin thing into the cemetery real late."

"You said they're from out of town?"

Danny’s sudden sob distracts him from the call momentarily, so his next words aren't thought through.

Cass waves Jason off. She'll handle it, she can read people and she's worked hard to learn how to put that to use helping people in distress.

"They had an armored white van, hoss," comes the reply, deadpan.

"Fair 'nough."

"Was all very villain lookin' n not the low key kind. Has a logo on the side, maybe you can clean it up n read it."

"Thanks Bill. I think this might be exactly what I was hoping to find. You can expect a nice bonus for this."

"Not a prob, boss."

Jason hung up his phone and shuffled over to the nearest device with server access. There's a series of codes and phrases he has to input before he has access to the server but once he has the file up, he sees the two clips time stamped hours apart. The first is short and shows the duo arriving in their suspicious as hell armored tank/van/motor home. It cuts off after they head into the cemetery with tools.

Jason doesn't want to see the other clip. He knows what is on there and he still doesn't want to see it. He clicks on it before he can chicken out. He watches avidly until the perps unload that horribly familiar metal contraption. It's there that his breath stops and his eyes lose focus. He double checks the date of the footage.

4 months...

Spooky, no, Danny was there 4 months before Jason died, 10 months by the time Jason was resurrected. It's been almost 6 years now...

God, Jason would have gone insane. It's a miracle that Danny is as put together as he is.

He sets his jaw before snapping a screenshot of the van and its logo. He shuffles over to Babs and passes her the tablet with the screenshot pulled up.

Jason glances up to find Danny in the middle of some sort of break down and Cass comforting him. It breaks his heart, but it's probably healthy for Danny.

She's quick to take in the new info and plugs in the tablet to her computer. She's clearing one of the screens and opening her photo cleaning program while the photo finishes uploading.

By the time the photo is cleaned and somewhat readable, Danny is back to reassembling the laptop, although Jason is fairly certain he just saw a piece of a walkie talkie go in there.

A sort of horrified fascination creeps up his spine the longer he watches Danny attach parts together that quite frankly have no physical way to attach to one another and have no business being anywhere near each other.

A tap to his side, finally pulls Jason’s attentions away from the technological abomination being built just across the room. His gaze jumps first to Babs and then, at her prompting, to one of the smaller screens.

Enlarged and cleaned up, the side of their van shows a very large stylized [f] with more letters tucked along one of the lines.

[Fenton]

Next to it, Babs had pulled up some related searches and specifically clicks on one that shows a family of four, two of whom are wearing bright jumpsuits matching the suspicious pair driving the van. The couple wearing them on this website also match the suspects from the surveillance footage in terms of body type.

Without a word, Babs highlights a specific name in the description underneath.

[Jasmine]

Specifically, Jasmine Fenton, the Fenton couple's daughter. As Jason scans the little "About" paragraph, he has to do a double take upon spotting the name, Danny. Further up their son is referenced as Daniel, but evidently he goes by Danny.

One coincidence is just that, a coincidence. Two coincidences and it's time to start looking closely.

Jason knows it's too early to assume anything, but he has a strong feeling that all answers lie with the Fentons.

Upon closer examination of Danny Fenton, he notes some similarities to Spooky Danny.

He points out the name to Babs and she quickly runs a search only to blanche at the results.

At the top of the list is an article detailing the disappearance and death of 15 year old Danny Fenton.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #my graveyard song #church grim danny #danny the black dog #danny the black dog au #church grim au #y'all when i tell you this chapter fought me...#good news i started the next chapter and its going good so far #bad news that is ZERO guarantee of anything #but as always i shall go at my own pace and drag y'all along for the ride

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