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sugar-bunii · 3 years ago

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Adrenaline rush

You and Octane have been going steady for about 4 months now, everything has been perfect so far but something was missing. You’ve always wanted to be sexually intimate with him but he hasn’t been picking up on any of your hints.

First it was asking to shower together but he was too worried about taking off his prosthetics, next it was when you asked him if he wanted to try something new. He got exited but started going on about the new sushi bar that opened. Another time was just you walking into the room in a towel after showering, he quickly covered his eyes and left so you could get dressed.

As clueless as he was you decided to ask him directly once he got home from the arena. 9:47 rolled around and he opened the door excitedly, “Hey, you’re home early what’s up?” You ask him as he settled down next to you on the couch. “We got a flawless victory and the announcer said we deserved to go home early and take a break!” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder and you put your head on his arm. You thought if you were going to ask it might as well be now.

“What’s up with that look on your face, are you thinking about something?” He asked, taking his mask and placing it on the table. “I was just thinking of a way to celebrate this victory of yours.” You strattled him and kicked your leg on the other side of him. “Woah what’s this about?” He said with a smirk. You whispered in his ear “how about we take this to the bedroom?” A look of excitement washed over his face. “I thought you’d never ask!” He said with excitement, picked you up and practically ran to your room.

As he placed you on the bed he switched the playlist you were listening to, “Why’d you do that?” Slightly joking but almost offended. “I’ve got a special playlist I’ve been working on” he states and sticks his tongue out playfully. He puts on a playlist called “bangers” and the first song that plays is The hills by “The Weeknd.”

“Kay, now where we’re we?” You take off your shirt and he does the same, he stares at your topless body for what feels like forever, “wow,,,you look absolutely stunning” you feel a blush come over you due to the unexpected compliment. He began kissing your stomach, slowly moving his way up planting kisses all over your body, your scars, and taking his time with your stretch marks. You can hear him counting with every kiss.

He hovers over your neck, hesitating before resuming with the kisses “67, 68, 69 hehe 69, 70, 71…” he giggles and continues. The kisses started to become more and more passionate, leaving hickeys on your neck “mine, mine, mine” he mumbled as he ventured from your neck, to your jaw, moving to your lips.

As he pressed his lips to yours he moved one of his hands against your cheek and another slowly moving toward your sweatpants, “is it okay if I-“ you cut him off “oh please help yourself” you say as you waste no time getting back to connecting your lips. You place a hand on his chest and break away from the kiss gasping for air.

Octane pressed his forehead against yours as you both pant, “god I love you so much” he says “I love you too” he smiles as starts working his way into your panties and rubbing circles around your clit. The sudden movement sent a feeling of sensation through your body, your heavy breathing triggered something in Octane to start moving his long now dampened fingers faster at an exhilarating speed.

“Let me hear your pretty noises my love” Octane says as he began kissing your neck once more, as you moan in his ear you receive what sounded to be a mix between a growl and a moan from him. “Please~put them in me” you beg, with a slight hesitation Octane slips two fingers into your dripping wet pussy. “God you’re taking me so well, mi amor~ don’t cum yet, we still have a few more rounds to go and I want to make it last” He says with a raspy tone into your ear.

He pulls his fingers out of you as you’re on the verge of your climax, you let out a small simper and Octane seems to have noticed. “Oh what’s the matter baby, did you want me to keep going?” He says tauntingly. Octane slowly moves down your body trailing his hands, wandering almost like they had a mind of their own.

Octane propped himself up as he was hovering above your pelvis, he slid your sweatpants down every so slowly that you thought you would lose your mind if he didn’t hurry up. For being one of the fastest legends he sure did like taking his time with you. “Oh my, you’re soaking wet just because of these little guys” he says licking his fingers clean of your lingering taste. “And you did say I could help myself.” He says with a smirk.

He stood up and pulled something out of the nightstand next to the bed, “I picked this little bugger up last week.” He says sticking his tongue out at you. “You’re really taking your time tonight, aren’t you?” You ask impatiently “I’m exited and I kinda like making you wait.” He stuck out his tongue and opened the package to reveal a vibrating tongue piercing. He replaced the bar in his tongue with the rubber covered piercing and quickly got back to his position.

“Are you going to be able to handle this?” He teases. “It’ll depend on how well you can use it, but we’ll have to wait and see” you say in response. “If you say so” Octane says as he turns on the little bug in his mouth, as soon as the vibrations hit your lower lips your back arches and your hips buck upwards. Octane steadies your hips and pins then to the bed, for having such a small build he’s so much stronger than you’d think.

As he’s slurping up every drop that drips from your pussy the piercing is perfectly hitting your sweet spot. As he focused more on your clit one of his hands teased the surrounding area of your dripping hole. “God your little hole is so pathetic, dripping just from this piercing, let’s see if you can handle three fingers this time. Just tell me if it’s too much for you, okay?” Octane says reassuring you, making sure you feel comfortable. “Okay, I~” you’re cut off by his fingers curling inside you, keeping a steady pace but fast enough to satisfy his constant need for speed.

Steadily Octane began going faster and faster, in and out of your pussy, the noises from all of your juices leaking out with the speed of his fingers. You run your fingers though his hair and your other hand grips the sheets as you teacher your climax. “Octane, oh god, I’m gonna cum” you desperately say, bucking your hips and arching your back more and more. “Good baby, cum in my mouth, you’re doing so good for me”

As you finally reach your climax you thought it would be over from there, but as Octane held your legs down and locked in, you know you would be there for longer than you anticipated. “Oh good girl, but we’re not doing this for your pleasure, we’re doing this for me, it’s so fun to see you squirm and moan just because of me” You could feel your body getting hotter and hotter, the room smelt of sex and “It wasn’t me” by shaggy filled the silence in the room aside from the sound of the piercing in Octane’s mouth buzzing away as he started to ride you over the edge.

As you moaned his name and gripped his hair he would continue to rub your clit and finger your dripping hole, he moaned praises into your pussy and spat on it from time to time. Soon tears started to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, he had been eating you out for what seemed to have been hours but he didn’t seem to have lost any stamina from fingering you as fast as he did.

Octane started to slow down the pace of his fingers, looking up at you. Your body was twitching, tears stained your face, and you let out small whimpers and he finally removed his fingers from your drenched hole and replaced the burnt out piercing with the original bar that was in its place. “You did so good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.” He said as he grabbed a wet rag from the bathroom. As he cleaned you up he praised you and told you how much you meant to him.

After he got you cleaned up he pulled an oversized shirt from the closet and clean underwear for you to put on. He placed you on the couch, put the bedsheets in the washer, and drew a bubble bath for the both of you.

He picked you up off the couch, undressed you and put you into the bathtub. “Are you gonna join me in here?” You ask with little energy. “Of course my love, I just need to remember if my legs are waterproof or not.” As he takes off his leg he looks at the small writing on the back of them: made for any type of terrain, adventure, and damage. “We’ll be fine”

He removes what little clothing he had left on him and slipped into the bathtub behind you, grabbing the shampoo and washing your hair. For how rough he was a few minutes ago he was quite gentle scrubbing the shampoo into your hair. “I love you mi amor, I really do mean it, you’re my everything and I would do anything to keep you happy” Octane rinsed your hair and planted soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. “I love you too, we should do this more often, Ive been trying to drop hints but I didn’t think you were picking up on any of them.” You respond as you move your hair to make way for his kisses.

“You have? I guess you just have to be more straight forward with me, but if I think you’re dropping hints I’ll ask before I assume.” He says in response rubbing body wash on your shoulders and arms. “Sounds good to me, thank you again, I love you.” You say with a slight hum to your voice. “I love you too y/n”

End

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Thank you for reading!! This is my first fanfic and it took me just about two days to make. Expect more in the future unless I get flagged for inappropriate content.

I may or may not have had to look up if octanes prosthetics were waterproof, but I’d say I like how this turned out!

#octane x reader #fiction #apex fanfic #octavio silva #imagines #apex imagines

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inber · 4 years ago

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A/N: This AU fluff is dedicated to @a-kind-of-merry-war because it's sort of in their AU where Geralt is a witcher, but in a modern world. Also because we chatted about this nonsense. Enjoy!

Jaskier clambered into bed, non-slip sock-clad feet daintily pointed as he slid beneath cool linens, fussing with the edges of the fluffy goose-down duvet until it was covering him to his satisfaction. Predictably, this nesting ritual was interrupted when his half-asleep boyfriend – seriously, who goes to bed at eight-thirty? – rolled over, one enormous arm slung over Jaskier’s chest, the heat of him crowding in a cuddle. Jaskier only pretended to grumble before he nuzzled closer to Geralt.

“S’the time?” Geralt slurred.

“Half one, dearest. Shh now, go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.” Geralt agreed, tilting his chin up, hot breath whuffing against Jaskier’s cheek. “Y’smell pretty.”

“Do I?”

“Like... honey.” Geralt said. And then he ran his tongue along Jaskier’s cheek. “Hmm, berry seeds.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier squealed, even as he fought back a giggle at the swipe of mouth, “That’s my new night cream! Don’t lick it off, you dolt, I need it for my beauty rest.”

“You’re plenty beautiful anyway.” Geralt mumbled, words trailing off into the meat of Jaskier’s bicep as he willingly succumbed back to slumber.

-----------------

“Oh, this packaging,” Jaskier griped, storming out of their shared bathroom, “it’s so deceptive! I paid out the arse for this eye cream, and the damn thing is nearly empty!”

“That’s, uh, capitalism, I guess.” Geralt offered, utterly unschooled in the ways of beauty marketing. With a pair of reading glasses perched upon his nose, he was absorbed with a journal regarding exorcism rites and their correlations to mental well-being. Jaskier called it his ‘ghosty woo-woo nonsense’.

“Robbery, is what it is.” Jaskier said, placing the cream on his nightstand. He sighed dramatically. “Organic products are so pricey.”

“I saw a nice scrub at the shop,” Geralt looked up, “apricot or something. Blue lid. Was on sale.”

Jaskier visibly recoiled. “St Ives? Good heavens, man, I’d sooner wash my face with a bar of soap. Urgh, no, no. No thank you.”

Geralt – who often washed his face with a bar of soap – shrugged, and returned to his reading. “You don’t need to buy that stuff if you don’t want to.”

“But you won’t love me when I’m not all soft!” Jaskier whined, draping himself across Geralt’s legs. “When I’m wrinkly and, and old—”

“Like I am?”

“Pish posh and poppycock. You get more handsome with every year. Me, I must work for it.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed fondly, “I don’t love you because of your blemish-free skin. I love you.”

Nibbling at his lower lip, Jaskier affectionately hugged Geralt’s knees. “You’re so sweet. I love you, too. ...I am gonna buy some more eye cream tomorrow, though.”

“M’kay, babe.” Geralt turned the page.

-----------------

“Darling!” Jaskier yelled, three rooms away, as was his wont, “How drunk was I last night?”

Sensibly, Geralt put the mixing bowl full of salsa ingredients down so that he could go converse with his partner at an acceptable volume. He found Jaskier in the bedroom. “On a scale of one to ten? Nine-ish.”

“Oh, blast.” Jaskier sighed, swirling a glass vial in his hand. “I think I must’ve spilled my vitamin C serum.”

“Your what?”

“My cold-pressed, virgin Sicilian orange serum?” Jaskier prompted. “Bought it a few days ago.”

“Smells like orange and lemons.” Geralt supplied, twiddling his thumbs.

“It does, love.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed as he honed in on his boyfriend’s nervous tell, the back-and-forth rub of his fingers on knuckles. “Do you know what happened to it?”

Geralt cleared his throat and shrugged non-commitally. “Guess you spilled it.”

Geralt was many things, but a good liar was not one of them. Jaskier stared him down, and Geralt eventually ducked his head, pouting at his boots.

“Have you been using it, Geralt?”

“How can you tell if an orange is a virgin, anyway?” Geralt muttered.

The question was left-field enough to disarm Jaskier, who laughed, and considered the possibilities of it. “Actually, you know, I’ve no idea. Further to that – who fucks an orange? Or do the oranges fuck each other?”

Geralt grinned, and let Jaskier run down the path of his own tangent.

-----------------

“Gera-a-a-alt,” Jaskier whined, knocking on the bathroom door, “I need a wee-wee. Hurry up!”

“Don’t come in!”

Jaskier squinted at the door. “Why?”

“I, uh, just... don’t!” Geralt snapped.

“What are you doing in there? Are you alright?”

“Nothing!”

There was the sound of clattering. Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Geralt?”

“I’m—I’m having a wank! Go away!”

“Ooh, but you know I’d love to help—”

“It’s--a really intense wank! You don't wanna see!”

“Alright,” Jaskier picked up a teaspoon on the dresser to turn the lock from the outside, “now I’m definitely coming in.”

“No! It’s, I—”

Standing in the open door, Jaskier gawked at Geralt, surrounded by moisturisers and exfoliators and masques, opened and spread around him in a semi-circle. Some of them were on his face. More importantly, they were around his mouth.

“Geralt?”

“I can explain!”

“Have—have you been eating my beauty regime?”

Geralt flushed scarlet, and licked some cherry scrub off the corner of his lips. “If—if they aren’t for eating, then why do they smell so nice?”

Jaskier stared at him. The carnage, the expense – the ridiculousness of it all. He began to laugh, belly-deep, bent over until he was wheezing and aching and tears were marching down his cheeks. Geralt watched, guiltily licking some day cream from between his fingers.

“Oh, mercy. Geralt, you truly are something else. You absolute pillock of a witcher, I am so mad at you right now!”

“I... like that they taste of you.” Geralt mumbled, avoiding Jaskier’s stern eyes.

“You are buying me more.” Jaskier instructed, rubbing a fond thumb along Geralt’s cheekbone, silently asking him to look up. “And from now, you are only to taste it upon my skin, not from the jar. Are we agreed?”

With a wobbly smile, Geralt nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. C’mon, let’s clean this up.”

After that, if there was an extra tube of honey and raspberry moisturiser in Jaskier’s shopping, or if he left a tub of peppermint hand lotion out on the kitchen counter for Geralt to come across? Happy accidents, that was all.

#the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #fortune writes #fluff #inber #geraskier

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

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Never Break the Chain Pt 5

Part 5 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Reunited after their deadly close encounter. They finally have time to ask the right questions and give honest answers.

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Content. Lover’s reunited. Confessions of Love.

Getting shot was never part of the plan, but it was always an option she had to consider. She was already marked and scarred, not the first time she'd been shot, but the first time in the shoulder. Needless to say, it fucking hurt.

Staggering, bloody through the streets was awkward enough, being shirtless turned it into a circus attraction. She had to shove with her good arm through concerned passersby and made her way as quickly as she could to her bike. It was a good trek, but far away from the action. She had a jacket in the side bag, and that had one problem fixed. The other, a much larger one was leaking out of her sleeve and throbbing through her entire body every time she moved, which was as little as she could manage. Being the sinful girl scout she was, she was always prepared, which meant knowing where she could go if she was shot. It was always a smart move to have blackmail on a veterinarian. She wobbly directed her bike with only one truly useful arm and braced herself for a very painful experience.

-------------

As soon as his eyes opened in the hospital room, he was being asked questions. The last thing you want to do after losing so much blood and being shot with surgery on top of that was be interrogated. But here he was. After giving his signature attitude that no supervisor had ever enjoyed dealing with, he was left alone. He finally knew some peace after a week or so, laying with eyes closed, healing up well he was told, now waiting out infection just to be safe. He’d never passed out from blood loss before, and he would be lying if he didn’t feel every second his age while he had been in the hospital. The bare walls and sterile fixtures didn’t help make him feel any warmer or comfortable. The pain medicine in his IV did though.

Murphy comes in, an eyebrow raised and a grunt in response to the appearance of his partner was given in acknowledgment.

“I know. I look like shit.” Javi smarts, adjusting himself to sit more upright, a pull in his side still noticeable but no longer grating.

“If you’re aware of that I guess that marks off one of my theories.”

“You? Have a theory?” Javi snarks, leaning back, propped up and hands across his stomach.

“I thought you might’ve had brain damage.” Murphy grins. “Claiming you didn’t know who that woman was we saw.”

“You didn’t say anything did you?”

“Don’t insult me, man.”

“Good.”

“They’re pretty fuckin’ annoyed with you right now.” the observation draws a chuckle from Murphy.

“Good. They’re only going to get more mad.”

“I can see why you’d wanna protect her though.”

A raised eyebrow was all that was needed to ask a question.

“They not tell you about anything that happened after you passed out?”

There's a pause as a wave of subdued anger rises on Javi’s face.

“I got to ya first. I peek over the edge of the roof and there she was…” he holds his arms out, a dramatic retelling for no other reason than to take his sweet time and annoy his partner. “You sure can pick ‘em Javi. She was standing there like some Colombian centerfold with no shirt on, hair all wild. I would’ve thought I’d just interrupted you two having a good time if I didn’t know better.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Shirtless?”

“Still had her bra on. Unfortunately.” Steve huffs out a laugh at him and the annoying twitch in Javi’s crow’s feet. “She made her shirt into a tourniquet for you, man. It was ripped and holding your guts in. You’ve got to thank that pretty little lady for saving your ass.”

He sits silently for a moment. “No wonder they thought I was working with the narcos.” he says quietly.

“They told you that?”

“Not outright.” he shakes his head.

“I guess you don’t know about what Trujillo did then huh?”

A sharp turn to face Murphy and a glare told him to spit it out fast.

“I saw her and she had her hands up, let me know you were shot. The sweet thing said, Murphy...Please don’t let him die.”

A twitch of his nose and an uncomfortable grunt show the emotion Javi was willing to show about the heartfelt statement.

“So I put my gun down, cause I figured I knew it was your girl. Who else would be willing to save you and put herself out like that? Unfortunately...Trujillo wasn’t aware of that.” he pauses for a moment, a wince to tell Javi the rest. “And he shot at her.”

“Shot AT her or shot HER.” Javi immediately demands clarification.

“Both.” he shrugs.

“Why the fuck am I just finding this out? Is she alive?” he begins getting out of bed, his torso pulling forward before Steve holds an arm out to keep him down.

“Woah, she should be, man, don’t get your panties in a bunch. She jumped off the roof and I was honestly a bit worried he’d hit her, but when I looked down there was a mess of a dumpster and a blood trail out to the street. You were right about her being good.”

“I know I was.” his brow furrows, immediately preoccupied with her again. “You should check the-”

“Hospitals, I know. I already did. Nothing. I would’ve been in to see you way sooner if she was dead.”

Javi looks away and that’s the closest to a thank you Murphy will get, but it was enough.

----------------------

The first night back in his apartment Javi sat and smoked by an open window, half expecting Esme to show up, a pop of black hair over the edge of the roof but she never came. He could swear she said she wanted to stay with him, or there was something building when the moment was ripped away. He wanted to be angry and tell himself he was being stupid, but he couldn’t help but think he was recalling correctly.

-----

He had finally gone back to work. He hadn’t foreseen a warm welcome but being reprimanded and lectured hadn’t been what he expected either. He was too distracted, not trustworthy, a rebel, a loose cannon. All things he’d heard before. This time they focused on his history with women. Both professionally and personally, the experience was vast. He had pulled more visas out of thin air than anyone in the DEA. His methods worked, yes it was sleeping with his informants and gaining their trust but it was a perk to a transaction that always worked. Because of Esme’s unknown identity, they had nothing concrete about him having connections with the groups they were after. He wouldn’t budge in telling them and they couldn’t accept that. So now he was too lenient on women, they said. His judgment couldn't be trusted because he could be compromised. To say he was pissed was an understatement. Had this suspension and possible reassignment after a board review been something he thought could happen? Of course. That didn’t mean he had to take it well or be happy about it.

He went to a bar, Murphy giving apologetic glances and slaps to the back between snarky remarks to break the tension. Javi knew he meant well, but his mind was elsewhere. He sauntered home, a warm belly of the contents of a few highball glasses and a glare on his face. He didn’t contain his annoyance as he let his boots hit heavy up the stairs and his shoulder jam against his door before opening it and twisting the lock hard. A more vulnerable groan, his hands running down his face after throwing the contents of his pockets onto the counter diffuse through a quiet and dark apartment. The warm light from the street lamps outside seep in through the thin curtains, a light breeze causes them to sway against their thicker partners that provided a shield from the sun during the day. He moves towards a window, feet dragging slightly, lighting a cigarette that illuminates him in orange and red for just a moment before the billowing smoke frames his face, half-lit in Rembrandt lighting by the mix of the moon and artificial light.

“Bad day Javi?”

He hears from the direction of the chair in his living room. Any other voice he would’ve turned and leaped for his gun and aimed, but he shut his eyes and took another patient inhale and exhale.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“You should have better security for your place.” she smiles but he doesn’t see it, she admires him for a moment before standing.

“Not many have the balls to break into a cop's apartment.”

“It’s not a matter of excess balls, but lack of brains.”

He turns to see her in a dress, ruffles on the edges and red as blood fitting her loose and tucked in at the waist. A matching flower sat in her hair, woven espadrilles on her feet made her look like any other beautiful woman he’d look twice at on the street. He could see her green eyes gazing at him doe-like and calm in the low light. They gave away that she was special, not by their color but in how they looked at him. No other woman had looked at him like that. He would’ve sworn all the answers he needed were right there in her eyes as she approached him, he could’ve almost gone on without the need to say his questions out loud. But he was never one to act without proof.

He looked her up and down, a cigarette resting between his lips before he pulled out a chair next to the small kitchen table against the windowed wall. “I’d ask what took you so long but by comparison, you didn’t make me wait long at all this time.” He begins taking off his boots, giving her time to respond and appear calmer about her appearance than he was.

“I had things to take care of.” She pauses, hip against the kitchen counter observing him and appreciating seeing how his jeans pulled tight across his thighs and hips as he moved.

He looks her over again, her relaxed stance, weight on her arm resting as he took a long drag. He stands and walks over, his significantly taller frame, even minus the boots, takes his time taking her in. He selfishly makes her wait, drinks her in, pushing her hair off her shoulders and almost touching the bare skin of her decolletage. “Is it true that you got shot?”

She nods and motions with her head, “In the shoulder.”

He takes his liberties and pulls the sleeve of her dress down to expose a fresh pink scar. “Still hurt?”

“Does yours?” a light touch to his side for a moment, barely outstretching her arm for how close they stood. Personal space wasn’t something either of them was interested in when they were together.

“Sometimes.” he admits.

She nods in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes.” is her quiet answer. He leans down for a moment and kisses the blemish on her shoulder.

“You could’ve let me know you were okay.” she was prepared for anger, which she deserved, admittedly, but she wasn’t met with it. His eyes were dark and deep, looking over her wound where his thumb was currently tracing.

“I didn’t want to risk being seen.” he keeps his eyes on her scar, his brow low and to anyone else, he would read as angry, but she knew he was just thinking, wheels turning and recalling the day she received the mark. “What did work say?”

“Why?”

“Call me curious.”

“I’d much rather hear what you have to say.” he meets her eyes again but he’s faced with the look of insistence a woman gives a man she loves. “Alright,” he sighs. “I'm under review. They wanted me to give you up, tell them who you were but... “ he shrugs, needless to say, he didn’t give them so much as her alias. “They don’t trust me. Too many favors pulled to cover other people’s asses finally caught up to me.”

She nods, looking away in thought for a moment. “You were too good in other words.” she finally answers, reaching out to take the hand that had been anchored to his jutted-out hip.

“Me?” he lets out a chuckle, another inhale, blown away from her face. “I’m not the one who lost their shirt saving my ass from getting shot.” he grins and nods down at her. “I’ve been told I should thank you for saving my life.” he takes one last drag before snuffing out the cherry in the ashtray on the counter.

“It was nothing.” she lied and matched his grin.

“If you’re so bad at lying, how have you not been caught yet?” a teasing squeeze of her hand as the pair rest in the small space between them. “Wasn’t nothing.” his other, now free, hand rests on her scarred arm. “Getting shot for me is something. Men get medals for that shit.”

“But I’m not a man. Just a topless woman who’s stupid enough to risk her life for one.”

A soft huff of amusement is shared between them. “So that part was true?” his smile reaches up to his eyes before he pulls her in to kiss her head and her laugh gives him his answer. “I really wish I hadn’t been a chicken shit and passed out. Would’ve liked to have seen that. ”

“Play your cards right and you still might,” she smirks. “But I believe we have a conversation to finish first.”

“So I didn’t dream all that?”

“No, you didn’t.” a soft and gentle answer, her eyes tender as they looked up to his face. He sees the lump in her throat bob before she speaks. “Where did we leave off?” She sounded a touch uncertain.

“You gonna act like you haven’t been playing it over and over in your head this whole time?” His head ducks down to eyeball her and she gives him an unexpected smile that grows up to her eyes.

Touching his face she lets out a wistful sigh, thumb dragging on his clean-shaven cheek. “I didn’t even realize how much I missed you until I saw you again.”

The sentiment was a punch in the gut that softened him, clearing his throat he looks away almost bashfully for a moment.

“Once I saw you that night in the jewelry store you haven’t been far from my mind. And since that kiss…” her eyes move to his lips and he nervously wets them. Only she could make him nervous. He lost the power balance when he was with her and it felt new, almost scary again. It made his old bones feel like a kid again when she said sweet things to him. “I would’ve come to see you sooner if I could have. I’m sorry. I worried the whole time if that’s any consolation.”

“I worried about you too. Always have.” He speaks quietly and almost mumbles the latter, turning to kiss her palm that had started stroking into his hair absent-mindedly. “I thought if I ever saw you again I would give you a piece of my mind. I'd tell you everything I’d built up in my head all these years.” His eyes move to her marked shoulder and he places his hand over hers. “But you’re making it hard on a man, sweetheart… looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She quietly laughs and moves her chest to his, her other hand moving to hold his face and he encapsulates her other hand

“Like you used to. Like you love me.” There’s a pause and the cards are on the table. Neither was the type to fold and bluffing wasn’t an option in this company.

“That’s because I do.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to leave you, Javi.”

“Then why��d you do it?”

“I had to find out for myself, didn't I? I’m as hard-headed as you are, no one could tell me nothin’ at that age. I had big dreams, ones I couldn’t reach if I was with you.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Could you reach them if you were with me now?”

She smiles almost condescendingly at him. “That’s why I’m here.” She whispers and gives him a small kiss to his lips before pulling away and moving farther into the room. “I just finished a job.”

His hands fall to his sides, holding to hers until they’re forced to let go. “And?”

“It was my goal. For a long time. I wanted to work with a billionaire and I have. So now I’m faced with what to do next.”

“Well, what do you want?” He takes slow steps towards her.

“You.” She looks his way with her big green eyes shining.

“How may I be of service?” He holds his arms out in offering.

She takes almost a full minute to speak and a worry grows in his gut as he musters all his patience to wait. “I’m tired, Javi.” Is the response she finally sighs out and meets his eyes.

With a furrowed brow he begins to move her towards the couch. “Well you were shot hun-“

“No. Not like that.” She stops him and her fingers pick at each other. “I want... this to be over.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that, sweetheart.”

“I was wrong. I can admit that now... now that I’ve found you again. I’m tired of this life. This... running. I’m tired of not being able to trust anyone and being alone and getting hurt and taking this disrespect from these men and-“

He shushes her as she speaks faster and grows more upset. “Take a breath baby, you’re fine. You’re with me. Nothin bad's gonna happen as long as I’m with you alright?” He says it and means it, an honesty she meets in his eyes that makes hers well up.

“I know. That’s why I don’t want it anymore. I want you. I want to be with you. I want to have that quiet life where nothing happens. I want to wake up and know we’re safe. Together.” She wraps her arms around him and he holds her tightly. She doesn’t cry but the sting is red on her face.

He stands and considers this confession, one he’s only had in his wildest dreams. While stroking her hair a million scenarios run through his mind. He eventually settles on one. “I’m tired too.”

It’s a simple sentence but it spoke volumes between them. “I have enough money, Javi. Enough for us to be happy somewhere.”

“You want to run?”

She feels the burn of reality in her chest. “I don’t know any other way.”

He looks away into the empty and dark room, hands on her face and stroking her temples. “Fuck…” he exhales. “I don’t either.” He shakes his head before looking back at her burning cheeks. “But fuck me am I tired of this shit too. They’re no better than the men you worked for. They’re all in bed together. There are no “good guys” and “bad guys”. There’s no fucking justice there’s just…”

This time she distracts him by kissing his palm. “I know Javi. I wanted to tell you when we were younger but you believed in it so much. I didn’t have the heart to-“

“I wouldn’t have listened.” He shrugs and watches her eyes pour our decades of apologies.

A long but not heavy moment of silence passes. Decades of memories whirling around, potential possibilities for the future playing out as his hands held her heart-shaped face and studied her. Both older, crinkles in the corner of their eyes and sun spots mixed with the freckles, their faces showed their age but their eyes were 18 again.

“I’m sorry.” She breaks the silence. “For everything.”

“So am I.” Is the best response he can muster.

“Instead of you asking me to stay… I’m asking you to go now. Ironic.” She smiles.

“Timing was never our strong suit.”

“No.” She shakes her head and softly laughs. “We didn’t talk much. Not with our words anyway.” The smiles shifted into a smirk.

“Never had to back then did we?”

“You only had to smile with that baby face and as soon as I’d see that dimple it was over.” She shakes her head in agreement. A rush of new emotions comes over. The happy memories. It was so easy to let the negative eat away at them and replace them. “You’re so much more handsome than I ever thought you could be.” She admits with a fully formed laugh. “Better looking than that scrawny young man I left.” She loves her hands to feel his shoulders and watch the grin spread on his face.

“You’re sweet-talking me now.”

“Well, I have to get you to run away with me. Thought I’d try flattery.”

“All you had to do this whole time baby was show up.” The grin he wore wasn't an exact match to the sentiment but she felt it like a knife. The mood shifts, they both feel it. A weight, but it was comforting. “There’s never been another woman that could even begin to replace what you meant… mean to me. This whole time it’s been you missing. The way only you’ve been able to make me feel and that... that damned beautiful face that makes me want to do anything it asks. It’s not fair on an old man sweetheart.”

“Run away with me. Fuck that job. We’ve taken a lifetime to figure out what we needed. Come with me, Javi. We’ll have that quiet little boring life. Like it should’ve been.”

“How can I say no?”

“I’m hoping you can’t.” She gives him the sweetest smile she can.

“You mean it don't you?”

“You seem surprised.”

“After all this time?” His eyes squint showing his disbelief.

“You are as handsome as you are clueless.” She laughs and reaches up to kiss him again. “I never wanted to leave. I never stopped trying to fill my guilt and regret with money and danger and drugs. Just feeling your hands on me like this right now feels better than anything else ever has. I can’t beat how you make me feel.”

He takes his cue, hands moving to pull her closer. “I can make it feel better, sweetheart.” A lower voice, one that was deep, sends a tremble down her spine. He didn’t sound like that when he was younger.

“You always did like to talk a big talk.”

“And I can walk it now. I’m not a kid anymore Esme. I’m a man.” A stern brow appears and she feels her insides melt. “If you think it was good then... well it was…” he gives that grin that wins women over time after time. “You’re gonna love what I can do now.” With broad shoulders and a strong jaw, he loomed over her, making her feel small in a way she didn’t want to fight against..

“Then stop talkin’ and show me, Javi.” She whispers, a seductive smile on her face. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“I can do that… but you’ll never wanna leave again.” He smirks before closing in.

“Make sure I don’t.” She softens for a moment, her hand carding through the almost curls at the nape of his neck. She lets the tension grow, the flirtatious closeness, an intimate sharing of smiles and breath isn’t taken for granted. Something hotter grows in the heat between their bodies, and as she had in the past, she gives him a direct signal to move forward. “We’ve waited long enough, Javi, stop sweet talkin’ and make love to me already.”

Her laugh is broken off by a commanding press against her mouth and his two strong hands moving into her hairline. She feels his smirk fade against her lips, each pass growing more and more urgent. With confident hands, he reaches down to grab her ass, one staying to her jaw. These weren’t the clumsy but enthusiastic hands she recalled. There weren’t short sweet kisses, unsure glances shared as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not the cum so soon from inexperience. He handled her like a man, and she felt more like a woman than she had in years in his strong grip.

He didn't let up as he moved them to his bedroom his mouth stayed to hers, taking each breath and devouring it, savoring it with a tease of tongue before deepening again. She bit his bottom lip after a light slap to her ass to get her moving in the right direction. He spreads his fingers, handling as much of her body as he could, a hard controlled wobble of her ass cheek, another slap of ownership, not enough to hurt her, but enough to show her how he thought of her as his. Once he had her at the foot of his bed, as much as he wanted to take his time, he also wanted to ravage her and intimately know every inch of her he’d been away from. She kicks off her shoes, lost to the darkness of the room before he hitches her leg up, hand traveling back and forth on her thigh, exposed from the wrapped slit in her dress. His mouth follows where his mind wanders, to her neck to hear her sighs and hums. His hand snakes up the nape of her neck into the thick black hair, a tight fist to gently control her head, holding it back so he could explore the sensitive bend.

A moan from her elicits a response, “You like it like this?” spoken quietly in her ear as he gives her head the slightest yank back.

“Aye.” she sighs, her eyes fluttering back. “I love it.” she whispers, a smile on her face and her long lashes shadowing over her cheeks from her blissed expression.

He makes quick work of making her shudder from the pressure of his lips and tongue on her racing pulse. She let herself enjoy it, not another thought in her head except how it felt with him touching her. It was an abandonment she hadn’t been afforded in decades and the act of letting go had never felt so good before.

His kisses trail her neck, shoulder, making tender work of her scar as he slips her arms out of the sleeves. His hand was fast to her back and one to her naked chest makes him press his forehead to the wound he directly caused. “Fuck me, you’re even more beautiful now aren’t you?” his hand kneads her breast and his mouth moves lower over her exposed top half, the cinch at her waist the only thing keeping them apart now. “I wondered what you’d look… feel like now.” his words a quiet but the low rumble in it, pouring that masculine energy he gave off in waves made her melt in his hands. His hands move to cup her chest, an eager mouth, and open kisses before latching onto her hard nipples and triggering a moan he mirrors enthusiastically. “Now I get this… grown fuckin’ woman, don’t I? Fuck, look at you baby.” She wasn’t the skinny little thing he’d held before. She’d filled out, the years kind to her body from the athleticism they’d demanded. She was strong but soft in all the places he wanted her to be. Perky little tits and a tight ass were now something substantial. Something he could sink his teeth into and he wanted to touch every inch of it.

“Let me see you,” she asks quietly, pulling out of his embrace, dropping her dress to leave her bare. Her hands unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it out of those jeans that fit him just right. “I almost want to keep the jeans on you look so good in them.” she grins and reaches back to grab his ass and he jumps before they entwine again. A soft laugh and an old lover's embrace float them down to the bed together. Mouths and hands explored as she straddled him and felt the breadth of his shoulders and the lean muscle in his arms from work.

He laid back, hands moving over her naked body, taking her in with an open mouth in awe. Her arms knocked her tits together as he played and pinched, making her grind and giggle. With a slow drag of her hands down his chest, the soft fuzz covered his pecks, grew smaller, and flowered out again as her fingers followed the trail, her hands moving to unfasten his belt. “As handsome as you are… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t most excited about this.” she leans forward and coos as her hand reached into his undone jeans, finding no underwear and considering teasing him for it. Then she remembered she had come to him not wearing any either. She supposes they were both whores and deserved each other. With a breathy indulgent laugh, she leaned forward, hearing him swear as she began kissing him again.

“I thought you loved me for my mind, sweetheart.” They both share a laugh and she bites his bottom lip.

“I love you for a lot of reasons, Javi. This cock has always been one of them.” The thick hair around his base was as soft as she recalled, maybe softer. But he certainly wasn’t. She kisses him through a groan, freeing him and feeling him fully harden in her hand. “Don’t know how you keep this thing in those tight little jeans.” she kisses down to his neck and he smirks, hand in her hair and the other still teasing her nipple.

“Same way I’m gonna fit it in your tight little pussy, baby doll.”

He hadn’t lost that smoothness, a perfected skill that made her bite his throat for making her throb and feel herself get wet and warm between her legs. “Suave.” she coos into his ear before licking the rim of it. “Now show me.” she demands sitting up and rubbing herself against his pulsing cock.

He moves quickly, his body trained and hers willing to submit to him. He sits up to grab her and push her to her back, hair splaying out, her breasts bouncing before heaving from the sudden excitement. There’s a girlish giggle he’d heard before as she watches him, her fingers disappearing between her pussy lips as he made quick work of his jeans and made his way back between her legs. “You’re still impatient.” he grins against her inner thigh, his hand tracing her slit, a bite to her inner knee that turns into a lippy kiss.

“For you.” she lets her arms fall back, biting her lip and watching him with interest.

His fingers find her swollen clit, both his cock and her sensitive bud jump at the touch. “And you still get so wet for me, Esme.” a trail of kissing to her inner thighs, moving lower towards her center makes her shiver. She didn’t have a response with the circling of her clit, the way he spread her knees apart before dipping down to suck the pulsing spot into his mouth.

“Fuck.” she exhales quickly. A compliment if he’d ever heard one. He did know what he was doing. His broad fingers teased her opening, waiting for that tension, that suction that meant not just her mind but her body was ready.

He hadn’t anticipated being the one not ready for the loud moan that left her thrown back head when he filled her with his fingers. One to test, another soon after added, and the trio to finish it was the curl of them inside her as he made her spasming clit even more sensitive with the suction of his mouth and the attention from his tongue.

“Fuck, Javi, don’t make me cum yet.” It was a plea and a chuckle at the same time.

“You think you’re only cumming once tonight?”

“I want the first time you make me cum to be on your cock.”

He hums deeply, “I can’t deny that, now can I?” a kiss to right above her lips before he eases the pace of his fingers and removes them. “C’mere baby.” he leans into her, hard against her slick folds, dragging his hips back and forth, a strong hand on her hip and his mouth firmly attached to hers again.

Her impatience shows, a brief indulgence of the feel of him, velvety against her before she reaches between them and angles him in. Her legs stay back, he's holding himself up on one hand before taking her hand, kissing her fingertips, and taking over himself. He teases her and it’s met to a whine, a pressure against her hole that was aching for him. “Javi, please.” her hips circle as a pout appears on her lips.

“That sounds too good for me to wanna stop, sweetheart.” he grins, knowing he was in control and being indulgent as fuck about it.

“You gonna make me beg?”

That cocky brow raises, rubbing his tip against her clit.

She raises her hips to meet him. “Fuck me, Javi. Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited too damn long already. Fill me up, I wanna cum so hard on that cock.”

He pushes into her to cut her words off, he loved dirty talk but he couldn’t take it tonight. He’d topple over far too fast, so best give her what she wanted. She was right after all, they’d waited too damn long for this. You couldn’t tell who was making what sound at first. Their limbs entwined, her legs around his hips, keeping him in and her nails into his back. He had his face buried into the side of hers, not willing to miss a sound, one hand on her lower back that was arched up off the bed and the other in her hair. He waited, feeling her tighten and then give to him. “That’s a good girl.” he exhales softly in her ear, feeling her whine as her legs fell farther apart for him.

It happens fast for her, something she wasn’t accustomed to. But no man had been him, and she didn’t recall the last time she felt like this, with every muscle aching and reaching for pleasure from someone. She’d never been able to give over, to trust enough to let some in like she did him. The fact that she was sober and feeling like this was something she didn’t even think was possible. She wasn’t usually so submissive, but while he was looking into her eyes, kissing her lips, temples, nose, and forehead while he moved inside her she didn’t want to be anything else but taken care of by him. His body pushed against her just right, her legs wide let him rub against her clit and the spots most effective inside her. “Javi.” it comes out so desperate and he moans into her mouth as she tries to kiss through her rapidly quickening breaths. “It’s so good.” it was rushed out and ended with a squeak of a sound as she first tightened around him, he knew what that meant. “Just like...like that.” water wells in her eyes, feeling it build from the depth of her stomach, a wave builds up into her chest.

He pushed her hair out of her face, looked her over watching the painful pleasure fall over her flushed cheeks, her lips swollen from his kisses, sweat dampening her hairline and he concluded she’d never looked more beautiful than she did like this. “Fuck you feel even better,” he says against her temple, leaving a comforting kiss while she slowly let herself go. “I feel it Esme, let go for me, lemme feel you baby.”

Her fingers turn to claws in his hair and sink into the thick of it and the skin of his back as she gasps his name like a warning. He puts his nose to hers, nuzzling and reassuring and watching her burst into full bloom. There was no high-pitched showiness like ages ago. She knew what she wanted, asked for it, and got it. She knew her body and what felt good and how to make it work.

He got to watch her body move in waves, a subdued but not quiet cycle of moans and swears, her thighs trembling around him, feeling her squeeze and drip and make the deep muscles in his stomach jerk at the white burst inducing pleasure behind his eyelids. Javi loved sex, for so many reasons. But to have sex with someone he loved? It was quickly making the other experiences fade into the background to be forgotten and replaced by every second he spent inside Esme. The sound of her moaning his name like she desperately needed him fogged his mind, her sounds, the whimpers from deep breaths stayed steady and after a shared moment of the most intimate thing someone could share with their bodies, she forced his mouth back to hers, even hungrier than before.

Riding high, feeling her insides soaked and sensitive and each stroke still forcing a moan from her, she holds him close, a bit less submissive now with a clearer head. The kissing grows more heated, nails raking and teeth sinking into skin deeper. “I wanna ride you.” is all she states, and he obeys, pulling her up and situating her, a deep moan as she sinks back down on him, a string of expletives as she finds her footing. “Fuck you’re so deep like this.” her face is more playful, biting her lip and smiling down at him. She lets her hands explore his chest, moving to his neck before he takes her wrist to kiss her palm, his palm on her bouncing chest. He groans, her thumb slipping into his mouth as he gives her a bite and lick, “You’re too god damn handsome.” she grins and shudders from a growing wave. A slap, barely enough to call it that makes him grin as it hits his cheek. He pushes the thumb of his hand he had held hers with into her mouth. She greedily sucks at it, feeling his hips jerk beneath her. He moves it between her legs, targeting her clit and her hips stutter. He’d make her cum again soon and she was almost embarrassed at how easy it was for him to make her. Only she could roll them out like this, but he certainly was right about knowing how to handle a woman.

“You're already close again.” his upper lip almost snarled back as he said it, his prowess he prided himself in but knowing he was making her in particular feel good was cutting off his usual time quickly.

“Fuck you, Javi.” he laughs and slaps her hips, grabbing them and making her move faster.

“Go ahead and run that mouth. See how long you can keep it up while I’m making you cum.”

She gave in with a flutter of eyelids and a whimper as he braced his feet and pounded up into her. “Oh shit.” she cried, a hand on his chest to balance herself, the other absentmindedly on her breast, twisting at her nipple. The higher-pitched moans made their appearance, her mouth open, panting and paced with the slaps of his balls against her ass.

He holds her hip, making her move and she watches him pop his thumb into his mouth before zeroing right back in on her clit again. He feels her tighten back up again, her thighs starting to shake as she tries to push back in time onto him, taking him deeper, feeling him slide into the deepest spaces of her, filling her up, and feeling him up into her belly.

“It feels so fuckin’ good, don’t stop. Cum for me.”

He switches modes, she sees his brow lower, his nostrils flare, a sharp slap to her ass before gritting out “Then fuckin’ ride me, baby girl.”

Planting her hands on his chest, he braces her wrist, other thumb still pushing her over the edge with the way he was pounding into her. She bounces on him, watching his eyes shut from time to time, holding back as she drenched his cock and balls, the wet slap of skin loud in the otherwise quiet room. She moves her hips up and down, in circles, grinding down when he hits her just right, the sheen of sweat is now obvious on both their skin. They were both breathing hard, exertion and excitement weighing heavily on them as they tried to sync up.

“Fuck that’s it,” he grunts, head raising slightly to watch himself disappear in and out of her. “C’mon and give me that pussy. I feel it Esme, fuck, don’t make me wait for it.”

He had never been able to dirty talk when he was younger, perhaps that was why it had such a strong effect on her. Because she did exactly what he asked, and came hard on him again. It was borderline violent, a combination of inner and outer taking over her whole body as their angry expressions matched up, groaning out his name through her clenched jaw, keeping eye contact and making him watch, seeing the mess drip from her as she rose and fell on his cock.

“That its…” is all he gets out, no masculine power tripped words as he came shortly after she did. His hips thrust hard to each pulse of cum that he filled her with. A deep grunt followed each thrust, his brow low as he quickly moved up, sweeping her to him, splayed together still inside her as he kissed her. They came down together, breathing soon normal, mouths still intertwined and hands still exploring curiously. As he moves to kiss her neck, both hands warm on her back she sighs loudly.

“I missed you, Javi.” she whispers, soft from the exertion and orgasms and the way he warmed every part of her he touched. “So much.”

“I’m here now,” he answers with a flick of his nose to hers, scooping her up and rolling them to their sides. He gives her a soft kiss before pulling away, standing, and yanking the covers down. He gives a pat to her bare ass, a signal to move as he then covers her up. As predictable as he could be, he makes his way to the pack of cigarettes in the other room and she gets to warm up and watch his cute ass walk away. “You want one?” he asks, looking down the lit cherry at her, now getting under the comforter with her.

Instead, she reaches over him, grabs one from the pack, and lights it off his, still in his mouth.

“First time you did that I almost came in my jeans.” he grins, taking a drag. “Always thought it was one of the sexiest things you’d ever done.”

“I wanted to show off. Good to know it worked.” she smiles.

There’s silence for a moment as they bask in the quiet of the room, she angled against him and his arm over her shoulders. “Are you gonna stay?” his eyes swing her way, pushing back a wild curl in her face.

“Here tonight or… in general.”

“Both.” he shrugs casually.

“You want me to stay tonight?” an eyebrow raised at him, squinting as she smoked.

“First time for everything.” she’d never watched a girl stay after he called her up. She’d wondered how this would go down but she was continually pleasantly surprised. "No, I don't want you to leave." he states it as obviously as he felt it was.

“What happens when someone sees me leave tomorrow?”

“Who says I’m not leaving with you?” he gives a nod her way. “You said you wanted to leave, right?”

“Yeah.” she answers softly.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweetheart.” his voice demanded respect she already had for him, but after the sex, she was happy to know he hadn’t changed his mind.

“I’ve got enough money. I just have to go back and get it. I’ve got visas and passports for both of us.”

“You work fast.”

“I had to.” she smiles, scooting in closer. “Couldn’t risk wasting time.” her voice is softer, she put her head on his chest. “Do you want to quit your job? Or do you just want to...dissppear?”

“No.” he takes a drag. “I’ll quit first. I don't want them trying to find me. Or you.” his arm swings in and rubs hers to comfort her. “I want to tell them to go fuck themselves anyway.” he grins, amused by the thought. “I can empty my account, well what little’s in it. Packing isn’t exactly a worry for me. Long as I’ve got you with me.”

“You’re a real Cassanova.” she kisses his chest and smiles into the warm fuzz.

“I mean it.”

“I know.” she nods and wraps her arm around him, letting the cigarette land in the ashtray by the bed. “It doesn’t feel real yet, is all.”

He nods, letting his cigarette join yours in the ceramic dust-filled pile. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up and I’ve been dreaming. Or in a coma from being shot.”

“No, it’s real.” she sighs and runs her hand over his healing side. “I’ve fantasized about running, and being with you has been such a pipe dream I can hardly believe you…”

“What?”

“Love me still.”

“Never stopped. I couldn’t. You said you loved me, why’s it so hard to believe I love you too?”

“Because no one has since you.” the answer hurt his chest, he kisses her hair and pulls her into a firm embrace. “I didn’t think I deserved it.”

“Shhh.” he strokes her hair back and keeps his lips to her bare skin. “We're gonna get out, Esme. We’re going to leave this shit behind. Because we have to. We aren’t made for this like we thought. We aren’t like them.”

So that’s how he’d slept at night. Truthfully she’d entertained the denial on occasion too. He was a good man who did bad things. She thought of herself as a bad woman, but if the one person whose opinion she valued didn’t think so, she’d have to change her thinking on the matter. Maybe he was right. They just weren’t cut out for this, and instead of shame for failure, she felt relief for the first time in a long time. “Where do you want to go?” her voice sounded weaker, sleepier now.

“Far away.”

“How are you with cold?”

“What does that mean?” he huffs out a soft laugh.

“I thought someone cold might be nice. Somewhere in Europe. It’s beautiful there. A nice secluded cabin...maybe some dogs.”

“That the European version of a house and picket fence and two kids?” he chuckles. “It’s not what I originally wanted but…” he sighs, “It doesn’t sound bad.”

“What did you want?” she sounded different, he tilts her face up so he can see her eyes.

“What I said I did, sweetheart. You, a home in San Antonio, figured we’d have a couple of hell raisers. Get old and fat together. Spoil the grandkids.”

Her eyes flutter for a millisecond. “You really wanted that?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I didn’t know that’s really how you felt. Thought you were just falling in line with what was expected of you back then.”

“I was always sure about wanting you forever.”

“Kids?”

The way she said it answered his question, that’s where the surprise was. “Yeah. You’d keep a kid walking a straight line.” he grins. “Put the fear of God in them.” a laugh builds and he kisses her softly. “Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. A man gets to a certain age and he starts thinking about these things.”

“I don’t know if I can… have kids at my age.”

“You act like you’re 50 hun.” he dismisses her worry without his tone being condescending. “I’m not asking you for kids, Esme. I’m answering your question. I wanted all of you. The good and bad. Even then.” he touches her chin sweetly. “As long I’ve got you I’ll be a happy man. We have so much time to make up for. Don’t worry that beautiful head about it. We haven’t even gotten out the door yet.” he gives her a lingering, comforting kiss.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.”

“I know you are, baby.” he whispers back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” her eyes were honest, a sincerity he’d not seen from anyone in years.

“Then that’s our plan. Plain and simple.” he seals his promise with a kiss.

“We’ll figure out the rest in the morning?” her eyes looked hopeful again, face nuzzling into his hand that stroked her cheek.

“We’ll figure out the rest together in the morning.”

In the morning they figured it out. It went just as they planned. Plain and simple. Together.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Flatbush & Atlantic: part ix

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

And here we’ve got part ix! This will be the second-to-last part of the series, I’ve got some thoughts also running around for a possible epilogue if that’s something anyone would be interested in reading. As always, there’s literally nothing writers love more than hearing from you all, so don’t be afraid to come and tell me what you think - my inbox is open, comment on the post, reblog with your thoughts!

part ix

April 27 (tues)

Mat’s mind was racing. If he was honest, he hadn’t been able to concentrate worth a damn since Cass had dropped the news about her job offer. Hong Kong? He knew she was brilliant, knew that her skills could and should take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go; the thought that she might leave New York, leave him, was still terrifying. Becoming more worried by the minute, he pulled out his phone, dialing the first person he could think of that might be able to help.

Tito answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tito. What’s up?” Mat asked nervously.

“What’s wrong, Mat?” He immediately asked. Mat cursed under his breath; even over the phone, Beau was always able to read him like a book.

Mat grimaced. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mat, we see each other pretty much every day. Not to be a jerk or something, but you don’t really call me unless something’s wrong. What is it? Did you and Cass have a fight?” Mat could imagine him crossing his arms on the other end.

“Not exactly,” he said, scratching his head as he wandered aimlessly around the park. “She got this job offer, and it sounds like a really exciting opportunity, but…” He trailed off.

“But?”

“It’s all the way in Asia. It’s in Hong Kong.”

Tito sucked in a breath. “Oh, wow. That’s a big one. Big move. Has she said if she’s going to take it?”

“Not really, she hasn’t decided.” Mat shook his head, not realizing Tito wouldn’t be able to see. “We talked through it a little, they’re offering a really good starting salary and she likes the company values, but it’s such a huge jump that she’s not ready to make the call yet.”

“Did you talk about what it would mean for you as a couple?”

“A little, though not as much as we probably should have,” Mat admitted. “Neither of us would want to break it off just because it would be long distance, but logistically it would just be a nightmare. It’s something like a 15 hour flight from New York, so it’s not like either of us would ever be able to make that more than once or twice a year. Did you know that it’s a twelve hour time difference from here?”

“No,” Tito said, “and it’s obviously not like I know exactly what you’re going through. Paige is a kindergarten teacher, so it’s not exactly like her job would suddenly pick up and move to another country. But it’s obviously a different story with me.”

As distracted as he was, Mat felt compelled to respond. “You know they’re going to resign you, right? It would be a terrible move for them if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what I’ve figured,” Beau responded. “And my agent told me to expect negotiations to start in the next month or so, but still. I could be sent to Winnipeg or Phoenix or Vancouver pretty much without notice, and I wouldn’t want to ask her to just pick up her whole life and follow me. So, I get the feeling.” He paused for a moment. “How do you feel about it?”

“Mixed feelings,” Mat answered honestly. “I’d never want to hold her back from anything, that’s not the kind of person I am and it’d be a dick move regardless. She’s her own person and deserves to be able to make her own decisions. And I would never want her to grow to resent me if she decided to stay for my sake. That would almost be worse. I just..I really love her, Tito, and I would hate for us to never be able to see eachother because of her job. Or worse, for this to mean the end of us because the distance was too hard to deal with.”

It took Tito a minute to respond. “I know you love her, Mat. It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like she hung the moon. But if they all say that things will work out if you love each other and talk it through, then what are you so worried about?”

Mat took a deep breath before answering, trying to gather his thoughts as best he could. When he spoke, his voice wavered. “Because I’ve never been this gone for a girl, Tito. What Cass and I have...I don’t even know how to describe it. I’d stop the Earth turning if it made her happy. It’s just...she’s it for me. I’m done looking. And the idea that I could be 13,000 kilometers away from her isn’t even something I had considered. I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wow. That’s...that’s big, Mat. You serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he replied.

“When do they need to hear back by?” Tito asked.

Mat looked down at his watch, checking the time. “Not for a few weeks. She’s got some time to decide, which is almost worst.”

Tito hummed sympathetically. “Just talk it through. I can’t pretend like I know what’s going to happen, but I have faith in you. It’s going to work out.”

“I hope so.”

May 13 (thurs)

It was nine days before Cass graduated, and if she was being honest, her time may have objectively been better spent studying for her finals, the first of which was Monday. But this was Mat, and this was the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and she supposed that her studies could wait for a night while she spent her evening at Barclays. It was Game 5 of the Eastern Conference final, and there was no way she was going to miss her team’s chance at the Wales trophy. The tone in the arena was tense from the moment she stepped in; ever the optimist, Cass liked the Islanders’ chances, but the fact remained that they were down 3-1 in the series after a 4-0 rout by the Lightning in Game 4. The series had started off with forward momentum after winning the first game at home, but the three-game losing streak had done little for the fans’ hopes and even less for the team’s morale.

The only bright spot, if she could call it that, was Mat’s return to the ice. He knew as well as anything that the recovery time was for his own good, but he wasn’t made to be cooped up in his apartment for nearly two weeks straight, save only doctor’s appointments and short trips to the complex gym. Per his usual dramatic fashion, Mat had been cleared in time for Game 7 of the second round, returning to raucous cheers and scoring two goals in the eventual 4-2 win over the Capitals. She had caught up enough on her work to be able to make the game, and it was one of the great joys of her life to be up in a box surrounded by her friends when the love of her life scored the goal that sent the Islanders to the conference finals for the first time in nearly thirty years.

That kind of a dramatic win had made the losing streak that much harder. Game sevens are always exciting, especially with someone coming back off of injured reserve. While the win hadn’t made the team cocky by any means, the confidence had carried over into something more closely resembling complacency. They won Game 7, they won the first of the next series, so some of the team — mostly the younger players who hadn’t yet cut their teeth in the league — had made the mistake of assuming that the rest of the round would be smooth sailing. They should have known better, Cass thought ruefully as the Lightning scored two minutes before the first intermission to even the score at 1-1. Why couldn’t this be the round before, filled with confidence and coordination and laser-focused passing on every line? Why couldn’t it have been the celebration after?

---

May 3 (tues)

Winning a game sometimes called for going out. Winning a series almost definitely called for going out. And winning a series in Game 7 that sent your team to the conference finals for the first time in recent memory called for going out, and going out hard. As much as Cass would have loved to get as hammered as the rest of the group, especially considering the stress she was under with finals and graduation and her job offer piling up, they didn’t want a repeat of the afterparty from the All-Star Game, and Cass still had school the next day. So, she had committed to limiting herself to three drinks. “I want to be tipsy, not shitfaced,” she had explained to Paige on the drive over. Tito had driven his car over, Paige volunteering to DD so the boys could let loose and everyone could let off some much-needed steam.

Someone had already opened up a tab for everyone by the time their car had gotten there, and it wasn’t ten minutes before they had claimed a few couches in the corner and Cass had a caipirinha in her hand. She was a little worried that Mat’s tolerance had tanked in the past few weeks; he hadn’t really drank since before the concussion and it was their first time at a bar in a few weeks regardless. Mat noticed her nervous glances out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I specifically asked the doctors if I was good to drink at my last appointment and they said I was in the clear.”

Cass giggled, sipping her drink. “You asked your doctors if you could drink alcohol?”

“What can I say?” Mat shrugged. “I wanted to go out and get lit with friends, can you blame me?”

Cass’ giggles had evolved into full-on belly laughs. “Lit? What are you, sixteen?”

Mat’s cheeks reddened in what was probably a combination of alcohol and embarrassment. “My cousin said it once.”

Cass headed back over to the bar a few minutes later for another drink, leaving the boys to talk amongst themselves with the occasional interruption from an excited fan. On a high from the win, the team were more than happy to take photos and have quick chats with anyone who stopped them, and thankfully weren’t mobbed by the crowd inside the bar. For the most part, Cass and her relationship with Mat had been able to fly under the radar �� well, as much as she could being Mat Barzal’s other half. Her Instagram hadn’t been private since college, and while a fair few fans and fanpages followed her, it had all remained mercifully low-key. Waiting at the bar, she resigned herself to scroll through Twitter for a few minutes, knowing it would be a little while before the bartender got to her.

“Are you Cassidy Shaw?” Cass’ head turned slowly towards her right, where a short blonde girl looked at her with a shocked expression.

“Cabrera Shaw, but yes?” She answered slowly.

“Sorry!” The girl apologized, “I didn’t mean to be weird or anything. I follow you on Instagram, it’s just so weird to finally see you in person.” Cass gave a nervous laugh. She had fans? On Instagram? Who were excited if they met her in real life?

“One Southside and whatever your favorite IPA on tap is, please,” Cass said to the bartender who had just leaned over the counter to get her order. “Thank you? You’re welcome?” Cass smiled awkwardly.

“I just wanted to say that I think it’s super cool how you’re not a typical WAG or anything. My name’s Sierra, I’m a junior at St. John’s. I’m applying for law school next year. It’s just, like, awesome to see a woman being successful in her own right apart from her partner, especially when they’re in such a visible position and it’s not what’s expected of them. I’m sorry — I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Cass laughed, a genuine one this time. “No, you’re totally good. Don’t worry. That’s really sweet of you to say, thanks a lot!” She sipped the Southside the bartender had just handed her, sliding Mat’s beer over. “Yeah, I have so much respect for the other women who choose to do more philanthropic work or be stay-at-home moms, but that’s not what I feel pulled to. Right now, at least.”

“Right, totally,” Julia said, grabbing what looked like a rum and coke from the other bartender. “Anyways, I should let you get back to the celebration. Tell the team congratulations, it was a great game to watch!”

Cass picked up the other glass, nodding. “I will. Thank you for your kind words, that was sweet of you to say.”

“Anytime!” Julia chirped happily.

Cass walked carefully back over to the group, keeping an eye on the drinks. She handed Mat’s beer to him. He looked up curiously, taking a sip. “Something hold you up at the bar?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. “Kind of? I think I just had my first fan encounter.”

He laughed, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Comes with the territory, babe.”

---

The game was scoreless through the second period, which didn’t help the tension in the stadium or Cass’ blood pressure. She and Paige had decided to get actual seats for the game, which Mat and Tito were more than happy to arrange. The Islanders were doing well through the first half of the third period, other than a little bit of messy passing the lines were good. But good wasn’t good enough sometimes, good wasn’t close enough to score and give them the lead. Cass’ heart sank as soon as one of the defensemen, she wasn’t sure who, made a turnover in the neutral zone to give the Lightning the puck. Kucherov picked it off, skating past the defenders and around the goal while the rest of the line nearly tripped over themselves trying to skate back in time.

She was on the edge of her seat as he wrapped around the goal, silently praying that Varlamov would somehow be able to get a piece of the puck with his blocker or that it would have one of those one-in-a-million deflections off of the post. You could hear a pin drop in the stadium as everyone waited for the shot; tall of the sudden, time seemed to move like molasses. And then the puck went in, the red light went on, and the scattered sections of blue-and-white clad Lightning fans threw their arms up in celebration.

Cass allowed herself exactly ten seconds to hold her head in her hands. There was still seven minutes, thirty nine seconds left. There was still time. Then there was five minutes, forty-two seconds left, and Maroon got two minutes for tripping, and that was their chance. That was supposed to be their chance. But then the penalty came and went, and it was three minutes left. Two minutes left. They pulled Varlamov at one minutes fifty-eight seconds left, and then it was the last shift. Forty-nine seconds left, and it was time for a Hail Mary. Out of habit, Cass’s lips began moving in the prayer. Hail Mary, full of grace...It was a holdover from her lacrosse days, when they were down in the last quarter with seemingly no hope in sight. It didn’t always work, but it sometimes did. It didn’t work that night. It didn’t work because the clock ticked down to zero, the score was still 2-1, and the Islanders had lost. They were out of the playoffs. Fans began shuffling out of the rink, shoulders slumped and heads down, as Cass bit her lip and tried not to cry. The team had worked so hard for this. God, they had worked so hard. And if she was taking it this badly, if it was affecting her this much, then she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for the guys on the team.

Paige turned to her after a few minutes, when there were only a handful of people still left in their seats and the Zambonis had come out to resurface the ice one last time. “We should probably get down there, do you think?” She asked softly. Cass nodded. She was referring to the tunnel, outside the locker room where everyone usually got to greet their partners with kisses and hugs and words of congratulations, but where the mood would be profoundly different on that night. Cass grabbed her bag and straightened out her jersey, squeezing Paige’s hand. Neither of them really knew what the environment was going to be like after such a devastating knockout; Paige had started dating Anthony the summer before, and Cass obviously had even less experience. They had dealt with losses, they had dealt with disappointments and losing streaks and points droughts, but this was something new entirely.

They rode the elevator in silence before walking down the corridors to the room, where the rest of the WAGs and other family had congregated. Kerry rubbed her shoulder sympathetically as Lauren walked over. “We in the Islanders family have a lot of experience with getting knocked out of the playoffs,” she said with a weak smile, trying to crack a joke, “so here is how it usually goes. The guys should be coming out in a few, it takes longer than usual because the media typically has some end-of-the-season wrapup questions and Trotz and Anders will probably make speeches or say something. Some others might too.” The two women nodded. “Don’t treat it like just another loss, but it’s also no good to hover too much. It’s obviously a real disappointment, so it usually takes a week or so before most of them bounce back to being their normal selves. They know what coping mechanisms work best for them. Most will hit the gym more, read or cook if they’re into that, something to get their mind off of it. Obviously they’re still players and still want to know how they can get better, so they might want to go over tapes of the games and make notes of where they went wrong. That’s fine, but don’t let them beat themselves up about it too much. This was a hard series, and Mat especially,” she gestured towards Cass, “tends to be more than a little bit of a perfectionist.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cass said.

“One last thing,” she continued. “Let them process, let them cope, but a loss not an excuse for them to treat you any worse, any less kindly. Be understanding, of course. But don’t take any crap from them, regardless of the circumstance.”

“Thank you,” Paige said gratefully. Cass echoed her sentiment. The next ten minutes were filled with checking emails and making half-hearted conversation before the team started to trail out of the room. Embracing their partners and families, most couples exchanged no more than a few words before turning down the hall that led to the players’ parking lot. Paige left with a squeeze to her shoulder and a promise to get coffee the next week before grabbing Tito’s hand and guiding him towards the cars.

Unsurprisingly, Mat followed right behind. He hadn’t combed his hair after his shower, the top button of his dress shirt was undone and only haphazardly tucked into his pants. Mat had been on the shift when Kucherov scored, and if there was anything she knew about her boyfriend, it was that he’d take it personally. He dropped his bag on the ground as she embraced him, and the thud against the concrete floor felt as if it could echo all the way across the Long Island Sound.

“I’m so proud of you, Mat. So, so proud. I know this didn’t end how you wanted it to, but you worked so fucking hard to get here, and that’s what I see. That’s all I see,” she whispered.

Mat wasn’t crying, but his breathing was labored nonetheless. “I just feel...I feel like I let everyone down. I wasn’t supposed to be that far up on the ice, and if I hadn’t, maybe I would have gotten back in time to steal the puck, or check him or something, or…” He trailed off.

Cass sighed. “I know, chou, I know how you feel. But just try to remember that this is a team sport. You win with the boys, you lose with the boys. Do you get mad at Tito when he makes a bad play? Or Jordan, or Anders?” Mat shook his head. “It’s the same way with you. They don’t stop being proud of you or think you’re any less of an incredible player because you made a bad decision. Bad decisions get made all the time, and it doesn’t have to reflect on the person who made them. It’s a hard game, love, but you did your best and that’s all anyone ever has a right to ask of you.”

Mat’s thumb rubbed against the small of her back. “I know I’ll be fine, eventually. I mean, we’ve all dealt with this before. It just seems different this time, because we were so close to actually making the finals. It seems kind of silly to say since I know I’m only 23 and I know I’ve got so much time left to play, but,” he took a shaky breath, “I look at all the veterans, all the amazing players whose entire careers have gone by without ever having gotten the Cup. Lundqvist and Thornton and Marleau and all of these legends. And it sounds kind of selfish and naive, but I don’t want to be one of them.”

They stood like that for a few more minutes, just holding each other, before either spoke again. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Cass murmured to Mat as she carded her hands through his hair. She felt a tiny, almost imperceptible nod against her shoulder. Her bag had her laptop, books, and chargers. She had a whole drawer in Mat’s room by then, a combination of stray shirts that were his-turned-hers, a few pairs of leggings — they took up an entire drawer of their own back at her apartment — and balled-up socks from her one unsuccessful attempt at doing the laundry in his building. She had a spare box of tampons in his bathroom, her floral shampoo next to his 2-in-1 Old Spice. No matter how hard she pushed, Mat remained oblivious to the benefits of having separate shampoo and conditioner.

He pulled away, reaching into his pocket and handing over his keys. “Do you mind driving?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. Whatever you need.”

The ride back home was about forty minutes, and it was almost halfway through before either of them spoke, the lull of the 80s rock channel filling in the silence. “Where’s your head at, Mat?” She asked carefully.

He was looking out the window, distracted. “Hm?”

She repeated the question and he tensed slightly, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Just feeling kind of...confused about the whole thing. Seems like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions one day, but then all of the sudden something like this happens and I’ve got nothing. It’s overwhelming. I know I have a life outside of hockey, I know it’s not all of who I am, but sometimes it seems hard to believe that when it seems like that’s all I’m recognized for.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Cass reached over to cover his hand with her own. His fingers held onto hers like a lifeline.

“You’re right, you know?” She said as they passed into the Queens-Midtown tunnel.

“About?”

“Being so much more than people perceive you to be. I get that, it’s like that for me too sometimes. And Mat, you are so much more than ‘just a hockey player.’ You’re a good son and an amazing brother to Liana, and an awesome friend to Tito and the guys on the team and everyone back home. And,” she added, cracking a smile, “you’re a pretty good boyfriend too.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just pretty good?”

“I didn’t want to fluff your ego too much,” Cass said. “But seriously, Mat. You’re incredible entirely on your own merit. You care so deeply for the people in your life and you love so hard, and it’s an honor and a privilege to be able to witness that firsthand.”

Mat bent down to the center console, brushing a kiss over her hand. “How do you do it?”

Now it was her turn to question. “Do what?”

“Always know the right thing to say.”

“I don’t,” Cass admitted. “And sometimes I get it wrong. But I know I love you, and I don’t want to see you hurting if there’s anything I can do about it.” The car exited the tunnel into the dotted lights of a Manhattan evening.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “if there was an Oscar for pep talks, I’d have to give it to you, hands down. No offense to any of the guys on the team.”

She laughed, stopping at the light. Right on red wasn’t legal in New York City, a rule she found out the hard way two months after moving. “I’m glad it helps.”

“It does,” Mat said softly. “It means the world to me that you care enough to do it. You mean the world to me.”

Her cheeks heated. “You sure know how to flatter a girl, eh, Barzal?”

“I meant every word.”

---

May 20 (thurs)

She was done. After three years, six semesters, dozens of classes, and hundreds of hours studying, Cass had just finished her last final of law school. Her classmates stumbled out of the lecture hall, not entirely believing that all of their tears and heartache and hard work had come to a head in such an anticlimactic fashion. Turning on her heel, she walked south. It was just before seven, and her friends had a group reservation at some ridiculously extravagant French wine bar. It was Les’ idea, who had a penchant for all things expensive and who had made the reservation months prior because “you never know, John Mayer could book the whole place up and as much as I love dollar slices, we don’t want that to be our only option for what’s supposed to be a very prestigious celebratory dinner.” Les, Fiona, and Samaira were coming, along with Daniel, another editor on the law review, and Robin, one of Cass’ friends from first-year criminal law and the president of the Women’s Law Association. She had initially been wary about inviting Mat; it wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d get along with her law school friends, but she didn’t want him to feel out of the loop. After Les had announced that he was bringing his boyfriend, Xavier, Cass had extended the invite to Mat as well.

It was only a ten minute walk, and the hostess directed Cass to their table, where she realized that she was the last one to arrive. “Don’t worry,” Robin said, “we’ve just been interrogating your man.”

Cass scooted in next to Mat, kissing him quickly before rolling her eyes. “I hope you haven’t been too hard on him.”

Mat smiled. “Nah, they’ve been good. But being questioned by six lawyers who all seem very adamant that I don’t deserve you —”

“You don’t,” Samaira cut in, though it was clear she was joking.

“Was more than a little intimidating,” Mat finished, handing Cass the menu.

“Order whatever you want, I’m paying,” Daniel said as he flicked through the wine menu. “Well, technically, my parents are.” Daniel came from money; his mom was a partner at a firm in Chicago and his dad was a law professor at the University of Chicago. “If they’re going to insist on sending me to law school and sheltering me my whole life, the least I could do is take advantage of their generosity,” Daniel said, plunking his credit card onto the table. Fifteen minutes later, the group was sharing plates of escargots, crab tartine, and roasted cauliflower; twenty minutes after that, entrées were served. Mat had recognized the waitress’ accent and was chatting to her in French in between plates. Cass sipped on her wine, a pinot noir, and took a moment to look around the room, a moment to relax. Two more days, and she graduated. Everything that she had worked so hard for was finally coming to fruition. She still had to pass the bar in July, sure, but for one night — for a few days, really — she was going to let herself finally rest in the ability of her accomplishments.

Dessert was maple bourbon crème brûlée with Sauternes, and Mat may have had a little too much fun breaking the caramelized sugar. Cass was full of good food and conversation; after everyone was done it was after nine. Les, Daniel, and Xavier had decided to get drinks, but Robin had barely slept at all that week, Samaira was going to watch a movie at her boyfriend’s, and Cass and Mat had to wake up early to get her grandparents from the airport. Mat took her hand as they walked towards the subway station. He had parked a few blocks away and offered to drive Cass back to her apartment, but she didn’t want him to go out of his way and all things considered, taking the subway at night had become something of a routine for her.

They walked down Manhattan Avenue, resting in the kind of comfortable silence that only came with being with someone who really gets you. Cass had decided not to take the Hong Kong job the week prior. It was just too much distance from her family and Mat, and while the job seemed interesting enough, it wasn’t the kind of position she thought she could really be happy in long-term. “Have you figured out what you’re doing yet?” Mat asked as they turned the corner. “I’d say you should just move in with me and become a full-time housewife, but something’s telling me that’s not exactly the kind of opportunity you’re searching for.”

Cass laughed, bumping him with her shoulder. “Tempting offer, the housewife thing, but I think I’m going to have to pass. Plus that would necessitate you wifing me up.”

Mat kissed her head. “All in due time, pretty girl.” “But anyways, about the job search.” Cass said, a smile playing on her lips. “I was going to wait until graduation to surprise you, but since you asked…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Chris offered me a job. Permanently.”

Mat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Chris? Like Islanders Chris? Lawyer Chris?”

She giggled. “Yes. Islanders lawyer Chris. You’re looking at the new Associate Counsel for the New York Islanders, Mat.” Mat damn near hollered in celebration, picking Cass up and spinning her around before pulling her into what was very possibly one of the best kisses of her life. Cass barely took notice of the tourists watching them from the side or her own public display of affection. It was New York City. They had seen weirder.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Mat’s chest. He was being honest when he said that he wouldn’t have done anything to get Cass to stay, it just wasn’t his place. But he also would have been lying if he had said it would be anything but heartbreaking to see her leave. It was like he told Tito. Not even giving the future a chance to work itself out would be worse than a breakup. And with any luck, they’d never have one of those either. They rounded the last corner, steps down to the subway in sight, when Mat remembered what he had wanted to ask her but had been interrupted by her news. Her incredible, perfect news. “What would you think about spending some time in Canada this summer?”

Cass, seemingly oblivious, answered, “Oh? Like as a vacation?”

He shook his head. “No, like in Coquitlam with my family.”

“You want me to spend the summer with you and your family?” Cass asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, only if you want to, of course. And I’m not sure when the job with the team starts, or…” He looked down.

Cass smiled. “I’d love to, but are you sure it isn’t too much? I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding on family time, I know you don’t get a lot of time with them since you’re here most of the year. I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to bring me around just because we’re together.”

They stopped by a lamp. Cass leaned up against the post. “Cass. My parents have made it very clear to me that you’re family, and that they’ll have my head if I’m ever dumb enough to let you go.” She snickered. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t intend on ever letting that happen. My family loves you, my sister thinks you’re way cooler than me.”

“She’s got good taste,” Cass said, tilting her head.

Mat laughed. “She does. She told me you guys were texting the other day about the guy she’s interested in, giving her advice. Sure, it was my idea to invite you, but they were so on board from the moment I mentioned it. Plus, my friends back home are getting annoyed with me because they haven’t met you yet with how often I talk about you.”

She bit her lip. “How long were you thinking of staying?”

Mat shrugged. “Leave in a couple weeks, I usually stay two months or so, so until sometime in August?”

“I’d have to fly back to take the bar in July, and I’d still need some time to study while we’re over, but my contract doesn’t start until the end of August, so…”

“You’ll come?” Mat smiled hopefully.

She nodded. “I’ll come. I’ve never been to Canada before, did you know that?”

He shook his head, leaning in and brushing a kiss on her hairline. “You’re going to love it.”

#hockey imagines #nhl imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #mat barzal #hockey #hockey writing #hockey imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #New York Islanders

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alittleoptimistic · 5 years ago

Text

Object Impermanence

A short (horror?) story by me for no reason other than ive been listening to the magnus archives and thinking about how it’s nice to sit on the ground and exist.

__________________________________

Summer of 2004, I’d just quit smoking. I remember because I was pissed off for no reason all the time, and I packed more gum than I packed food. My entire backpack smelled like awful, sweet, artificial grape flavoring.

My little sister is home and she’s been hiking with those rich friends of hers and she’s like, ‘lets go hiking on the weekend.’ I’m all, do I look like I go hiking? But whatever, she was just gonna leave by herself if I didn’t go, and what did I have going on anyway? We were going to leave Friday, hike up the mountain, stopping at various lookout points to camp until we reached the top, and then we’d come home by Monday morning.

It started off fine. My feet hurt by the end of the first day. I was wearing sneakers cause that was all I had, and I couldn’t even complain about it because Sara, that's my sister, said that would happen if I wore them, and I told her to buzz off. It was just the two of us, wandering up a mountain. It smelled clean and sharp. The air was cool, almost too cool for the lungs, and I didn’t say how much I was actually enjoying myself. Yeah, there were mosquitos, and the undergrowth left scratches on my ankles, and Sara laughed at me when I struggled. She had a nice laugh, tough, kind and genuine. But it was all worth it when we reached a peak.

One of the first lookout points sat above the valley. It was a flat, stone outcropping. We dangled our legs over the edge. We ate our sandwiches and sunned on the rock like lizards. It was the first time in a long time I’d truly felt… solid. I was so used to this screaming, crashing in my head. I had too many tabs open at once, and I barely looked at any of them. And now I was just a creature, laying against my backpack in the sun, feeling the clouds pass over. It was good that way. People would be a lot nicer if they just shut their mouths and lay on the ground more often.

I heard Sara get up, but I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I was sort of asleep, and the weight of my body had settled into my limbs. I might have melted into the rock and been content there. It wasn’t until a cold wind swept hair into my eyes that I finally squinted and sat up, groggy from my half-sleep.

Sara was gone, her pink ‘rucksack’ (that was what it was called, according to Sara) abandoned a few feet away from me. I had gravel pressed into the palms of my hands, and I brushed it off as I looked around for her. Something settled into my stomach, a deep ill-ease I couldn’t quite shake. Her boots lay next to the backpack, socks sticking out of the top like little white tongues. Thinking back, I wasn’t really worried. If she’d left her shoes, she couldn’t have gone far.

I looked for her, grumbling. The forest here was made up of tall pines, and not much undergrowth anymore, so I should have been able to see her with relative ease, but when I stepped back into the forest, I saw no one. My steps made no noise on the pine needles. The trees swayed.

I called out her name and heard nothing in reply. Actually, to be honest, I heard nothing at all. No wind, no twittering birds, no crunching leaves. Have you ever heard of those rooms that suck the sound out of them? I had a buddy in high school who used to make music, and he rented a soundproof room to record. I went with him one time, mostly because his sister was really cool, and I’d reasoned she might be there (she wasn’t). The point is, the forest felt like that room. My voice died as soon as it left my lips, right in front of me. In the quietest soundproof rooms, they say you start to hear your own heartbeat, the sound of your digestive system, your pumping blood. Spending too long inside a room like that can drive you mad. I kept thinking about that; about soundproof rooms, and about how I didn’t know what my own body sounded like, not really. How can you live in a body its entire life, and not know everything about it? Do bones make noise when they move? The firing of nerves, do they make a sound? I had no idea. But right then, I felt that if I stayed here long enough, I would find out.

I wanted a cigarette.

A twig snapped behind me. I whipped around. I wasn’t sure what had me so tightly strung. There wasn’t anything to be frightened of. Not really. It was Sara. Of course, it was Sara. She’d pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail, and she gave me an odd look, like I was being weird, and she asked if I was okay. I told her, yeah, I was fine, where did she go?

Sara shrugged and walked back to the lookout without answering the question. I guess that was the first sign that things weren’t alright, but I didn’t pick up on it at the time. I was distracted by the quiet and soundproof rooms and my own hammering heartbeat.

We kept on up the mountain as the day stretched. My backpack dug into my shoulders and neck as I followed behind Sara and her hot pink rucksack.

At some point, I looked at my watch, only to realize it was gone. I’d never owned a wristwatch. Except, I had. I got it for myself as a treat after I managed to keep my job as a waiter at Sonic for a month. I couldn’t skate for the life of me, but they kept me on. I tried once. Skating, I mean. The experience was so beyond embarrassing I refused point-blank to do it on the job again. Have you ever had orange soda spilled on your crotch before? I had to walk around for the rest of the shift with this massive sticky stain down the front of me like I was a two year old with a melted popsicle. Disgusting. The manager on duty thought it was hilarious. It was, I guess. You have to find humor in jobs like that or else you won’t get through the day. I’m getting off-topic again. I bought myself a wristwatch from Walmart after the first month of working there because I could.

And now I didn’t have the watch. I’d… well, I thought I possibly could have just left it behind. But now that I thought about it, I couldn’t picture the watch in my head. Had I bought the watch, or did I just think about buying the watch? Either way, I didn’t know what time it was. We’d been walking for hours at this point, long enough that I’d gone through two whole packs of gum. My stomach growled. I told Sara we should stop, citing the setting sun.

Not pausing, Sara told me it wasn’t much farther. That was it.

I pressed the issue. I complained about how hungry I was, how my feet hurt, how I needed to sit down.

“It’s not much farther,” she said again.

Up to this time, I didn’t think anything was wrong. I was just irritated she was being so stubborn. I told her if she didn’t stop I was going to sit down, and she could go up by herself. I’m not exactly an athletic guy, you see? I never have been. In middle school, kids called me Scrawny Shawny. They weren’t wrong. Mom used to resew my pants because the store never had pants with the right sized waist and length. They were always too short with a waist that fit fine, or long enough with too large of a waist. I wasn’t as skinny as I was at thirteen, but smoking hadn’t helped me gain any weight, and I sure wasn’t used to hiking for hours on end.

I told her I was stopping to sit and eat something. I wasn’t getting bossed around by my baby sister. Sara was already a good distance ahead of me, up a slight hill in the trail. She stopped at the top. From that incline, I noticed the first really weird thing. She was barefoot.

Had she not put her shoes back on? How long had she been walking without shoes? And how? The trail was filled with sharp, sand-stone gravel. The trail wound around tree roots, and boulders. I’d stubbed my toe already from inside my shoe.

I called out to her. Where were her shoes? Was she stupid? What was she thinking?

She looked down at her feet, as if noticing them for the first time.

Then, smoothly, she twisted her neck to look at me. Her face was blank. But that could have been that she was too far away for me to see clearly. I told her to stop messing around and come eat a snack.

“It’s not much farther,” she said.

I felt that twist in my stomach again, a tightness in my lungs that wasn’t from the exercise or the thinning air. Her tone was flat, dull, like… this might not make sense, but like soft wood hitting soft wood. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. I heard her clearly, but the sound wasn’t traveling? It hung in the air for a second before dropping into the dirt.

I had my backpack in my hands, and I realized I was clutching it, my nails digging into my palms. Sweat coated my back from the hike, but I was getting cold.

All at once, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

Also, I hadn’t brought any snacks. I hazily unzipped my backpack, eyes still on my sister, who stared at me but didn’t turn around. When I opened the backpack, the smell of grape candy wafted up to meet me. But there were no snacks inside. No trail mix. No cans of beans. No dried fruit. No energy bars. And you’ll remember I said before, I hadn’t packed much food, but I definitely packed some. Had I eaten it all already? It was only Saturday. Or was it Sunday? I couldn’t remember.

Had I never packed any at all? I asked Sara if she’d taken my snacks. She said, “We don’t need a snack yet. It’s only a little farther.”

I gave in then. I’m not sure why, really. Something in me knew she wasn’t going to let me rest. I walked until I was a few steps behind her. She twisted forward again. And then Sara kept going. Up the mountain.

The sun should have set eventually. But it didn’t. That’s the thing. It stayed half set, not quite gone, but clearly not totally in the sky, for… I don’t know how long. Because it was halfway like that, I couldn't tell if I was imagining it or not. I couldn’t tell if it was moving. The shadows stretched like taffy, and the light was golden. We walked through this striped forest of light up the mountain. My stubbed toe was bleeding. I could feel the stickiness and warmth in my sock. Sara’s feet were bloody too, but she didn’t seem to notice. If anything, she walked faster the longer we went. I didn’t dare say anything. Everytime I tried to make an excuse to stop, I’d suddenly realize that excuse did not exist.

I told her we needed to set up camp.

We did not have tents. We would sleep beneath the stars, when they finally came.

I was thirsty.

We did not have water bottles. We’d planned to drink from the streams.

I told her my shoes were breaking.

I wore hiking boots. Of course they weren’t breaking. My toe was still bleeding, however, and that was the only thing that kept me certain that I had been wearing sneakers before.

A particular strain of fear settled in my gut, a familiar feeling I had not laid claim on in a long time. I used to be terrified of losing things when I was a kid. I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving something behind. I forgot a stuffed animal at a playground once when we were on a road trip. It was a little green bear named Ugly. I left him inside the jungle gym of a grubby Mcdonald's play area somewhere in the middle of Utah. It put this gaping hole in me, a seemingly un-proportionate terror I couldn’t escape. I was five, and I could not keep everything safe with me forever. When I closed my eyes, there was absolutely nothing making sure the world would be there when I opened them again. Worse, perhaps nothing was there when I wasn’t looking at it. At a certain point, you grow out of fears like this because you learn, logically, that there is something holding the universe together. You are not so important that your gaze keeps the world spinning. So I hadn’t felt that fear in a long time.

Walking up that mountain, the fear came rushing back to me in waves. Everything was unravelling under my fingertips, twisting into something else. If I didn’t look at it, it could disappear any second. I didn’t have a backpack anymore. I never had. Sara’s pink rucksack bounced ahead of me, mocking me. It was a rucksack, so it couldn’t be smug, but it was. I felt its zippers and rings and straps all straining and stretching and grinning at me. It was huge, bulging at the seams, certainly bloated with all of the things I lost.

Barefoot, I stumbled over a tree root and tried to catch myself on a tree, but my hand sunk into the wood like soggy parchment. It was rotting away, hollow, not really a tree at all. I jerked back and hurried onward. I couldn’t stop. Something horrible would happen if I stopped. We kept going, and the trees loomed above, taller than they were before. They leered at me, bent in so I could hardly make out the fading light of the sky above. Stretched high into eternity, the mountain would never end. The trail became gradually steeper, slowly enough that I did not notice until we climbed hand over hand up the face of the rocks. Pine needles rained down on me from Sara’s movements above.

As we climbed, I asked one last time, how much farther we had to go.

The silence gripped me. It stole the breath from my lungs. This was what it was like to be in space, where sound waves could not travel. I was stuck breathing sawdust and mud and wood shavings. If you’d like to know, bones do make noise when they move. Mostly when the joints bend. There are soft crackles, popping bubbles, and a wet scrape like a fingernail against a mud covered stone.

Sara paused.

Her head twisted toward me. Her neck should not have been able to turn that far, but everything was just so slightly off that this final thing did not shock me as much as it might have in other circumstances. I stood frozen in mute horror, not daring to touch the trees for support, but barely able to keep my grip. I swiped sweat out of my eyes and tears too, I think. I’d started crying. How long had I been crying?

Sara smiled too wide. Her eyes were too large and they glistened a dull, sickly yellow. Her smile held too many perfect teeth packed inside and her fingers were too long. This thing, whatever this thing was, was not my sister. In fact, I had never had a little sister.

There was just me. I was just me, climbing a mountain into the sky, and I had never been anything, or done anything else. The grit under my fingers, the rough stone under my feet, the salty sweat I tasted on my lips, these were the only things I knew. I would not know them for long, because when I stopped thinking about them, they would no longer exist.

“I think it’s time for a snack,” the twisted thing said.

I wanted to weep in relief. Maybe I did. I couldn’t let go of my hold on the stones and the roots on the path or I would fall, so I did not move. The twisted thing started toward me. It’s limbs moved in a jagged way, like a video played in reverse, as it climbed back. I reached out a shaking hand, hoping for some assistance, some food, some water. Something.

But as the twisted creature reached its long fingered hand to me, its mouth wide and grinning, a jolt went through my skull like I’d been kicked. Before it could touch me, I pulled away. This creature would not give me anything. It could not. I knew what I had to do the moment that clarity passed through me.

I stared up into the eyes of a poor imitation of my sister, and I hoped Sara escaped somehow. I doubted it. After all, I didn’t have a sister.

The creature must have sensed my intentions because it snarled and leapt down to grab me. However, I was too quick. I had myself. I had my body and I had my bones. They existed still. Even if they had not, I existed. And I was not sure it could take that. What was a person anyhow, that they can be taken?

My fingers. Even now, I had fingers. They loosened their grip. That was all it took. I plunged downward through the whistling wind. And finally, the sun set. Or perhaps, I just could no longer see it. I fell and I continued to fall, solace flowing across my skin like a balm. There was nothing around me but darkness. The forest was no longer there. It had been, but my eyes were closed, and the illusion did not need to continue. My heart ached.

Then I realized, I could hear the whistling wind. I could feel the coolness of the night. There it was, the sickly sweet smell of grape flavoring. It flowed through the wind. I smiled with lips I still owned.

#short story #horror #fiction #mine #object impermenance #suspense #writing #writer #the magnus archives

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irwinkitten · 5 years ago

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hell over me | III

note: so here i m with part three of hell over me, aka vampire!luke. this one i had the most fun writing honestly. warnings: none word count: 3.6k

part one i, part two ii, part iv, part v

The burning anger that kept building up, was going to explode. And he was fully prepared to wipe out an entire race with this anger.

Luke was never one to be left so helpless.

But when Carina was taken from his very bed, her frightened scream sent shivers down his spine.

He could hear the wolf talking with Ashton and the other siren. There was an ache in him and he knew that if he didn’t feed soon he might as well let the sirens do away with him.

‘Carina is still safe, don’t let her lose you now.’ His mind whispered.

That was the only thing that stopped his full anger.

His mate was safe. She was scared, he could feel that. But she was safe. Part of him wondered if it was due to the fact she was a witch that she was still alive.

He knew that her powers had only grown since they first met a century ago. And even then she’d been alive before he was even turned in the twelfth century.

A spike of fear followed by courage made him ready to break free, to rip each siren to shreds with no mercy. She was terrified and he could do nothing.

“You have my word I’ll try to help all four of you get out of here.” The sirens words broke Luke from focusing on the fear that seemed to engulf his mate.

“Good, because I’m ready to break these damn chains, fuck the consequences.” He peeled his eyes back, gaze turning to the wolf. “I’ll give my thanks to your Goddess when I get out of here with my mate safe.”

“Duly noted.” The wolf returned, making Ashton smirk. Luke tried his best not to roll his eyes.

“So, siren. Where do we begin?” His gaze turned to her and she shied away from his gaze, watching as Ashton bristled in the water.

“They’re trying to make the witch cast a spell. She’s been refusing.” Pride surged through Luke at the sirens words and he felt the terror recede.

‘Feel that pride sweet thing. Hold on a little longer.’ He desperately though, silently hoping that by some miracle she could hear him. He knew it was not to be, but in the water pit, any small hope was enough for him.

“A witches magic will never work if coerced. The sisterhood should know this.” His words came as a drawl and he was met with sharp eyes, a fire burning in them.

She had a backbone.

“Do you think I don’t know this? I am to be cursed for eternity if she does the spell under coercion and I want no part of this.” She snapped, her face dropping as she realised exactly who she was talking back to. Luke smirked.

“Your sisterhood sees you as an embarrassment, correct?” Pinkish spots appeared on her cheeks and Luke kept himself in check, stopping himself from letting his hunger overcome him.

Siren blood was lethal to him, he could not afford to slip up.

“I saw through their promises of this life when I joined the sisterhood. I grew depressed. I decided that if they would not free me from the bond, I would refuse to be what legends tell about us.” His eyes swept over her body, the stomach, the stretch marks. Rolls of fat in the wrong places.

“That’s what sets you apart. You have a good heart that they could not corrupt. Why else would they leave you to be in this godforsaken pit with a vampire, a werewolf and two demons, personally taken by Lucifer himself?” Her eyes darted to Ashton who nodded. The gaze then dropped to the still sleeping demon. Luke didn’t blame him. His powers had been bound for weeks now. He knew that if they didn’t get it soon enough, he would perish.

“If they catch me, they’ll make an example of me and use your witch for it.” She finally whispered and Luke shook his head.

“They’ve already caught you.” And he watched the first tear trailed down the sirens cheek.

“I know.” Was all she could whisper, pressing her lips tightly together. And Luke understood why.

A siren's wail could be deadly if they wished it. Sometimes they didn’t have the choice, their emotions dictating the wail and he realised that his words had broken her heart.

“Help the other demon, if he stays disconnected from his magic any longer, he’ll perish.”

“What about you?” Ashton asked, earning a look of gratitude from the siren as tears rolled down her cheeks, moving to where the sleeping demon lay.

“Unless they murder Carina, I’ll be fine.” He shrugged as the sirens song began, louder than before and Luke couldn’t even attempt to fight it. It was powerful and as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, he missed how the siren collapsed, body dangerously close to the water as she blacked out.

“Carina?” Beneath the scent of the dried herbs, he could smell the fumes from the potion that must have been cooking. Luke rolled his eyes as he made his way down to her laboratory.

“Sweet thing, how many times do I need to tell you that the smell of your potions do not need to be masked?” Her head shot up from the cauldron and his lips curved up into a smile that matched hers.

“As many times as it takes, mi amor. The nightshade was particularly foul when it was added, hence the herbs.” He laughed as he watched her eyes return to the bubbling pot, tugging back a small tuft of jet black that had escaped the hair tie.

Moving to stand behind his mate, Luke allowed his hands to capture the strand of hair, fingers pulling the hair tie out before he began to pull her hair back properly, twisting it easily into a tight bun before securing it with the tie once more as she added the next ingredient.

His nose told him it was crushed nettles.

“Thank you mi amor, I’ll be up in an hour.” He dropped a kiss to the juncture on her neck before he made his way back up. He knew better than to try and claim her attention when she was brewing.

Greeted by the clatter of claws as he made his way to the kitchen, Luke chuckled as the small dog skidded to a halt in front of him, sitting herself down and looking up with pleading eyes.

“Your mama is busy my girl. How about we head out for a walk?” He had her leash in his hands within seconds. The only response he got was a wagging tail, making him laugh as they left the house, knowing that she would know whether he told Carina or not.

Small mercies came with his mate, despite the species barrier between the two of them. She’d created a talisman that helped him to blend in with the humans that they interacted with. Other supernatural creatures would recognise him for what he was, but humans remained in the dark.

When they’d found a small pup left in the cold to die, Carina had nursed her back to health and named her Petunia. Luke had no say in their adoption of the dog, but when she’d cast a spell that muted their dogs instincts when it came to Luke, he was entirely smitten with the creature.

He wasn’t surprised a decade later, when she finally admitted she’d cast a second spell on their dog which tied her life to theirs. In other words, their dog was just as immortal as they were.

The walk was with ease, Luke nodding to a few of the humans that seemed to be out with their own pets. Once the pair had returned to the house, Carina was just exiting the laboratory. Petunia greeted her with excited tail wags and soft barks, making her giggle.

Luke leaned against the doorway, his lips curving into a softer smile as he watched the two loves of his long life.

“I see you staring, Hemmings. I’d like my greeting now.” Her eyes met his and Luke didn’t hesitate as he shut the door and swept her into his arms, his lips met hers. Her arms wound around his neck as he placed her back on her feet, holding him close to her.

“One would say you missed me.” He teased her playfully as her lips met his once more and she could only grumble as he pulled away.

“It’s been a long few days thanks to your trip. Allow me to indulge in my feelings that I actually missed your fanged ass.”

A burst of laughter escaped his lips as he pulled her towards the kitchen.

“Well this fanged ass is cooking tonight. What would you like for food, sweet thing?”

He was met with a beaming smile as she sat on the bar stool, her elbow resting on the countertop so that she could rest her head in her hand.

“Surprise me, mi amor. I’ve missed your cooking and insistence that I eat.”

The evening flew by quicker than he liked, finally the two of them allowing to reaffirm their connection. Just the sounds that she made beneath him, he wanted to imprint it within his mind, remind him of these moments when they weren’t together.

They lay in the king sized bed, her head resting on his chest as his fingers carded themselves through her hair. He always marvelled that she was his opposite in many ways. Jet black hair compared to his blonde curls. Dark brown eyes that contrasted with his baby blues, eyes that he knew he could lose himself within for hours if she let him. Her tanned skin, sun kissed from the years they spent in the sunnier climates compared to his pale skin. She was a beauty in his eyes and he was hers.

“Do you ever think about the lost opportunity of children, mi amor?” Her question had caught him off guard and he turned his head down to see her looking up at him, curious brown eyes studying his face.

“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly, “I think about what could have been, what we could be if we wanted. But having children was never right for either of us. I knew that then and know it now. As much as we could make great parents to a teenager who craves attention, we would be useless with an infant. And then there’s the whole secrecy issue.” This made Carina smile slightly as she nodded, her lips pressing against his chest.

“I consider what could be, and realise how lucky I am to have you and Petunia. Perhaps one day we could look into which would mix all supernaturals together, rather than keeping them within their own species.” He gave her a small smile.

“If it would give us the title of parents, I wouldn’t be averse to it. But for now sweet thing, you need a rest. You’ve got your big meeting tomorrow.”

Something shifted in the night, it was three am, past the witching hour and certainly past whatever time would be considered good to break into a home.

But that was what concerned Luke. Carina had made their home unplottable. Humans did not know it existed and other supernatural creatures would have difficulty reaching them.

And then the most haunting sound burned his ears.

Immediately he moved to waked Carina up, but he was trapped, his eyes wide in horror as he watched four sirens break into their room.

His mind was screaming at them, but the words were trapped behind locked lips. He recognised the bright blonde hair easily.

Sorrel smirked as she sauntered across the room, the other three yanking Carina away from him, her screams echoing through his mind, the sound locking itself in there as he desperately tried to move.

“Make her watch.” His eyes flickered to the ground of four, his mate forced into her knees, head held in his direction. He could feel her fear echoing through their bond as well as her anger.

The anger turned to panic as Sorrel straddled Luke’s waist and a growl built up in this throat as he felt the sirens lips trail up his chest.

Everything about her touch was wrong. It revolted every cell of his body but he couldn’t move.

“As fun as it would to break the bond like this, to fuck a vampire and see if they really do break furniture and bones with their stamina, the mistress wants her alive. We promise not to break her too much, little vampire.” And then they were gone.

It was hours later that the sirens magic wore off and Luke twisted off the bed so violently, his body rejecting the remnants of the dinner as his body tried to rid himself of the sirens unwanted touch.

Then he realised what had transpired and the panic set in before the anger overtook.

He knew he would never be able to track her, they were too good at masking scents and magic. So with a hurried apology to the dog, promising that he’d find Carina, he was almost glad that the pup wouldn’t need to be looked after. The house was sentient enough and she didn’t need food to survive. Her life was tied to his and Carina’s.

His first trip was to the vampire council, his eyes half wild as he was greeted into the meeting. The eight vampires in attendance eyes him warily, he was known for his control.

To come in looking so wild and careless, it had them concerned.

“Mister Hemmings, What brings you to the High Council?” He could see the cool look from the elder and knew he needed to calm down. They wouldn’t listen otherwise.

“The sirens.” The words were stated simply, but four of the eight flinched. He realised that he wasn’t the only one who’d had a run in with the sirens

“What about the beasts?”

“They took my mate hours ago.” This earned him looks of sympathy. He hated them.

“Do you have everything prepared if she were to pass? You know you won’t survive long without her.” And the bubbling anger that Luke had been holding back, exploded.

“What? Will you do nothing for my mate? The very mate who made it possible for us to live amongst humans, and to have kept our secret?” He snapped and was met with frowns.

“We cannot risk the lives of our own for the life of a witch.”

Luke was gone from the room before they’d even finished the sentence.

He knew that the elders had issues with his mate being a witch. He remembered the time when a wolf was bound to a vampire, both councils exiled them. Luke has never agreed to that decision. Especially after meeting his own mate.

He was just lucky the witches understood. They understood that Carina was his just as much as he was hers. They had even blessed their union so many years ago.

He knew where he needed to go next.

His journey to the witches council was more exhausting. Even though he didn’t need to sleep, he’d neglected to feed, his desperation overcoming the hunger.

When he greeted the High Council of witches, the concern they shared, to see a vampire look so broke in front of them, it hit him hard.

Falling to his knees, his hunger warring with his desperation, but desperation won out.

“Luke?” His head snapped up and Jade recoiled from the dead look in his eyes. He didn’t care how he presented to others now.

He could feel her anxiety rise and his own was fighting to stay in control.

“Sirens. They took Carina.” The witches Council were in uproar.

“Luke, have you fed?” Jade’s concerned eyes watched as he zoned out, his head snapping towards her when she spoke his name.

“Uh, no?” His confusion and then he felt the anxiety turn into full blown panic and before he could do much else he was knocked out.

When his eyes peeled back, he felt full but exhausted. Jade was sat on the coffee table and that was when he registered that he was laying on the couch.

“We managed to get some blood in you. One of the priestesses is procuring a live feed.” His gut churned and Jade gave him a twisted smile.

“It’ll be someone who deserves to die. Don’t worry.” And she laughed as his shoulders relaxed.

It was easier to focus once he’d fed, his body relaxing as he sat with the witches High Council once more.

“What about the vampire High Council?” Terra queried as the other witches shared looks. Luke scoffed.

“They told me to be prepared for when she dies. They’re not willing to help a witch.”

Uproar.

“Fucking old timers.” Jade snapped as she glanced to her sisters before standing up. Luke met her gaze evenily, resisting the anxiety that was bubbling once more.

“I will personally go with you to every High Council. They have to listen to a representative and a mate.” And he felt relief flooding him. He hoped that it was enough to stave off Carina’s anxiety, even just for a moment.

Having Jade with him, Luke fed more often, keeping himself and his emotions under control as they met with the various High Councils.

When they reached the High Council of wolves, Luke was exhausted and his emotions were close to snapping. This was the last thing he needed, especially with him going into what was considered enemy territory.

He waited by the treaty line, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waited. It was moments as Jade seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He didn’t jump.

“They’ve agreed to see you.” Was all she said before gripping his shoulder and he swore as he felt the uncomfortable sensation of the apparition.

“God dammit woman, warn me before you do that.” He snapped, pulling his arm from her grip. She gave him an apologetic look in return.

“She did that of our request, leech. We didn’t want the others panicking because there’s a vampire walking around.” Luke froze and fought every instinct to snarl at the council. But he composed himself.

“That can be forgiven, but still some warning would have been nice.” He ground out, earning curious looks from the other wolves.

“Why do you want audience with us, vampire?”

“The sirens took my mate. I’ve been travelling to ask for help but also support when I say they need to be wiped out.” This caught the wolves attention.

“We would be willing to support you when you put forward the motion for them to be destroyed. But we cannot grant you the help that you seek.”

Luke fought down the anger. He knew that it was going to happen, every other council had denied their own help.

“Thank you for your time. Jade?” She didn’t need to be told twice as the apparition surrounded them once more and once they were by the treaty line.

“Luke?”

“I’m not giving up. I’ll go to the sirens myself.” He muttered and she watched as he stepped away from her. She moved to step with him, but the look he gave her, froze her in her tracks.

“Let me help.” She whispered and he shook his head.

“I need someone who knows where I’m going. If you don’t hear from me, you know that either I’ve died or they’ve got me. They won’t kill me until they get what they want from Carina.” Jade could feel the goosebumps on her arms as Luke continued to walk away from her.

“Make the councils aware. I want those sirens dead.”

His head was pounding as he pulled himself up from the slumped position.

His eyes turned to the siren who was pushing herself from the floor, her eyes wide and terrified.

“What the fuck was that?” Luke snapped, the anxiety rising in his chest and he registered that it wasn’t his own.

Carina was still alive.

“That was my wake up call.” The blonde demon groaned and Ashton’s head snapped to the other demon.

“Calum?”

The demon that Ashton had named Calum, turned his head towards Luke, ignoring the other demon.

“You said you went to every council?”

“Yeah, almost every council agreed. The only one that didn’t was the vampire council, mostly because I never asked of them.” Luke lifted his shoulders into a shrug and felt the siren work her magic as the song picked up again.

“Good, because they think they can break me, but they don’t know me.” And to the shock of the siren, he stood up, his hands free of the binds.

Magic seemed to surround him as his eyes fell shut and Luke felt the power radiating off the blonde demon and he felt every bind snap, Carina’s emotions hitting him full force and rendering him breathless.

He watched as Ashton’s eyes widened as they met the sirens and Michael smirked.

“These sirens chose the wrong creatures to break. I’m going to make them pay and when I’m through with them, the mere memory of them will be tainted enough for people to forget.

And as the siren helped them from the water pit, once her hands touched Ashton’s, she was sold on helping the four of them.

“I’ll show you the secret passages. I can’t let them live after this.”

tag list: @cals-babylons , @glitterprincelu , @calumspeachy , @wrappedaroundcal , @cosmocalum , @monsteramongmikey , @talkfastfletcher , @hereforlukescruff , @astroashtonio , @catchinqcalum , @5saucewho , @dontstopisagoodsongchangemymind , @therainydays4 , @asht0ns-world , @silverchainbee , @hidd3nfangirl , @doodleasouarus , @empathycth , @mylovehes , @songforhema , @kinglyhood , @youngblood199456 , @makecoffeenotwars , @sunny-sos , @negative-love , @softboycal , @kinglycalum , @you-of-ghost , @meetyoutheremgc , @lmao5sosimagines , @lietoash , @aw-hawkeye , @drummerboy794 , @itjustkindahappenedreally, @mycollectionofnuts, @abitloudforanaccousticset, @boytoynamedcalum , @teampreator , @dukehoods , @dweebluke , @calumculture , @lashtoncurls , @wildhearthood , @gigglyirwin , @blue-skies-are-alright , @hearts-to-the-sky , @tiddlerrr , @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you , @zooniah , @cakeassx-blog , @rotten-kandy , @vipclifford , @musiclover1263 , @rosecoloredash , @jpgluke , @cathartichaoss , @5secondssofssummer , @daisy-jen , @balsamichood , @cliffordstxngue , @lukesbellas , @myloverboyash , @cxddlyash , @gabiatthedisco , @rosesfromcth , @gorgeouslygrace , @calumsssparkle , @valentinelrh , @meetashthere , @softforcal , @cakesunflower , @sweetcherrymike , @fangirlforever0704 , @caswinchester2000 , @long-termplanwithshort-termfixes , @josierosie , @ashtoniwir , @raabiac , @burncrashbromance , @killerlukesqueen , @angelbabylu , @heartbreak-5sos , @geeksareunique , @singledadharrington , @singt0mecalum , @sugarcoated-pain , @sublimehood , @americanhorrorstudies , @moonchildsblack , @uncrownedqueeen , @softforluke , @lostincalum , @colourfulcalum , @calpops , @rosecolouredash , @aftermidnightclifford , @nine-butterflies ,

if you wanna be added to the taglist, just message me!!!

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cmncisspnandmore · 6 years ago

Text

Mistakes were made: part 2. Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, hospitals and overly cute Spencer.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you try to sit up. Feeling like a turtle stuck on its back you make a noise of protest. Which startled the sleeping figure next to you.

“Y/n, is everything okay?” Spencer sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the grey sheets pooling in his lap. And you glare at him, curse him and his ability to sit up.

“I can’t sit up. I’m so hungry, and tired, and everything hurts. I just want to sit up!” You reach your arms forward and attempt to sit up again. Spencer stand up and walks over to your side of the bed and grabs your hands. Giving you a gentle tug he helps you sit up, and smiles. Your face is level with his chest and he leans down and wraps an arm around his your back, and helps you into a standing position.

“Why don’t we walk around the apartment building, sometimes walking can help relieve some pain, and it may even induce labor. Your doctor said you need to start walking around more.” Spencer rattles off, and you roll your eyes.

“Well I don’t want to walk, I just want this to be over, I’ve been miserable for the past 8 weeks: this is all your fault. How dare you put this thing inside me.” You smack his hands away, angry that he doesn’t have to live with the constant throb in your abdomen, and the sharp kicks to the ribs.

“You know you don’t mean that.” He reaches for you again, and this time you let him place a hand on the small of your back.

“I want to take a hot shower.” You grumble, and waffle towards the bathroom. You let Spencer walk you to the bathroom, and he kisses you on the head.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He smiles down at you, and you can’t help but smile back at the dorky curly haired doctor.

You turn the water on as hot as it will go and get in, you don’t know how long you stand there, just letting the hot water run down your back. Hoping and praying it will relieve some of the pressure. Your rinsing the conditioner out of your hair when the bubbles at the bottom of the shower catch your eye.

They’re stained a bright red, and panic seizes your chest, when white hot pain rips through you. You let out and involuntary scream, and grip your stomach.

Spencer is sitting in the living room reading over a case file, when he hears your scream from the shower. He’s on his feet in an instant and pushing the bathroom door open and ripping aside the shower curtain.

Your leaning against the support bar in the shower, crying, your chest is heaving and you’re doubled over in pain. Spencer notices the bright red trail of blood streaming down your leg.

“Call.. an ambulance,” you gasp, as another white hot flash of pain course through your body. Spencer goes pale, and grabs a towel, wrapping it around your shaking form. He leans down and scoops you up in his arms effectively getting soaked by the shower, and rushes you into the bedroom, where he sets you down on the bed and hands you his t-shirt from the night before. You pull it on and he hands you a pair of loose pajamas pants.

“Stay here, I’m going to call an ambulance okay? I need to go get my phone.” He runs his hands through your wet hair, and your teeth start to chatter. Nodding you watch as he rushes into the living room and dials.

Your head is pounding and you feel like you’re going to throw up. This isn’t how it was supposed to feel, there shouldn’t be this much pain so early in labor. If you even were in labor. You manage to get the pants on, and put your head in your hands trying to take deep breaths through the pain. Trying to remember what they told you in birthing classes.

Spencer comes back in, talking Into the receiver to what you assume to be a emergency responder. You smack his hand to get his attention, and he looks down at you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, holding the receiver away from his mouth a little.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” You groan, and he heads into the bathroom and grabs the small empty trash can that you keep by the sink. You hastily grab the bucket and lay your face on the edge of it, taking deep breaths as your stomach flips.

You close your eyes and hear him walk away, a few moments later two paramedics rush into your bedroom, and are lifting you onto the stretcher.

“Spence!” You cry and the paramedics take an oxygen mask and try to place it over your face.

“I’m here, don’t worry I’m right here.” He says as he makes his way out of the bedroom and follows them down to the hall to the elevator. Your vision is all blurry and your head spins, you can feel them lift the stretcher into the ambulance. And you feel a hand grasp your, rubbing the back of your hand.

“It’s getting dark..” you mumble, as one of the paramedics starts an iv, and starts to pump fluids into your system.

“Hey. No. Stay with me, I know it hurts but you can’t pass out now.” Spencer sniffles and brushes your hair back. Tears fall, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. Then everything is black.

—————-

“She’s going to be okay right?”

“Yeah, they said it was a placental abruption. She didn’t lose too much blood, she’s on some pretty heavy pain medication. The emergency c section saved both their lives.”

“Oh Spence, she’s beautiful. She the perfect mix of the two of you.”

“Thanks JJ,”

“Oh look at you wonder boy, and baby genius” Garcia cries.

You open your eyes, and the first thing you notice is how bright the room is, bright and steril.

“Welcome back, ass kicker.” Derek Morgan, smiles and looks down at you. Your head feels foggy, and you give his a small thumbs up. As your other hand drifts to your stomach, which is now flatter than you remember, and you jerk up. Pain radiates through you, and your eyes cloud with tears.

“Where’s my baby.” You croak, looking around at the agents you had to work with.

“Hey hey, calm down. She’s fine, she’s okay.” Morgan rests his hand on your shoulder, and you take a deep breath.

Spencer turns to you, holding in his arms a little pink bundle of blankets, “Hey… there’s someone who wants to meet her mommy.” He walks over, and you hold up your arms, he gently places the sleeping infant in your arms. You look down at the little girl, her pink cheeks, and tufts of brown hair, her cute button nose. Her hands are up by her face and she stirs im your arms and opens her eyes. Staring up at you, with dark blue eyes, a tear drips down onto the soft pink blanket, and you let out a small laugh.

“Hi, I’m your mommy… you gave me quite the scare.” You run your finger down her cheek and her small fingers grab your finger.

You look up, and find the team looking at you, Spencer takes a seat on the chair next to your bed.

“We’ll leave you guys, im sure you both want to spend some time with the newest member of your family.” Garcia smiles and walks over, placing a kiss on your cheek, and softly brushed your daughters hair flat.

The rest of the team makes it way around and say goodbye to the three of you. JJ is the last to leave, and she warns you about taking it easy. Because she expects you to come back to your job now that everything was out in the open. You give her a nod and ease back into the hospital bed, your daughter still securely in your arms.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” You breathe, turning your head towards Spencer, who looks more tired than you felt.

“I’m just glad you’re both okay,” He smiles, running his long fingers across his daughters chubby hand.

“Me too.. I guess we should name her.” You laugh, you regret that laugh the instant you do, the ache from the c section still present even with the lovely pain meds the doctor has so graciously pumped into your bloodstream.

“You should pick it, you know her better than anyone” Spencer smiles at you.

“I like Lucille, lucille Diana.” You smile and look over Spencer.

“You want to name her after my mom?” He smiles his eyes bright with tears.

“I know how much your mom means to you,” you shrug and put your head back on the pillows. Your eyelids are heavy, and you want to take a nap.

“Rest, I’ll watch after her. You went through a lot today.” He kisses your head and gently lifts baby Lucille from your arms. You smile softly and drift off to sleep.

#spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer x reader #spencer #spencer reid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #x reader #x you #x y/n #pregnancy #baby

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xaeneron · 7 years ago

Text

On A Bug in the System

I have been (and continue to be) stupidly busy, so sometime I’ll post something, I swear. I’m sorry, I’m not dead ;-; (I think).

I did spend some time on the new release, and overall I enjoyed it quite a bit. Sandswept Isles are beautiful and have a bunch of new things to take a look at and tidbits to find, which is super neat. I think I find it actually more engaging than Domain of Istan, which I kind of floated through on nostalgia and then never came back to after Palawadan farming became a thing. I had a lot of fun with the story, and breaking the story (completely on accident).

As usual, bullet points beneath the cut :>

On General Updates:

The new branded mounts are so pretty. Still tempted to buy them. But I also have a lot of other mount skins ;-;

The Claw of the Khan-Ur is a pretty legit dagger. Besides the fact that I’m just not generally a fan of the shape, it’s detailed, it’s clean, it’s not overly flashy, but it’s still distinct - definitely things I dig about (legendary) weapons. I know some people think it’s boring, but I like it. Unfortunately I probably won’t make it since I have the Incinerator :V

The fractal instability shuffle is...interesting. I think it’s a neat concept and could mix up fractals week by week. I’m glad that they’re monitoring it and seeing if things work well, but some of these combinations look downright silly. Like add-heavy fights with toxic trails, last laugh, and afflicted. Eew.

Chubby health bars :3

On Sandswept Isles:

I actually really like Sandswept Isles a lot. The first view of Rata Primus during the story was legit, and the zone itself feels...I’m not sure, interesting, distinct. There’s a lot of different things going on, and the divide between the Olmakhan lands and the shitshow of Rata Primus is an interesting way to present the zone. I like it quite a bit, although I wish there were just one more waypoint.

I never get tired of exploring a zone for the first time. We were running around shouting about suspicious bushes and falling off cliffs. Exploring fresh new maps and finding all the little nooks and crannies will always be one of my favorite pastimes.

I know the “Surprise! Tricked by Joko!” bounty mechanic was a thing in Istan, but we never really got around to bounty training Istan because we all kind of got tired of the zone in about a week. That being said, it’s a stupid mechanic as currently implemented. If it still spawned the bounty or immediately put it back up on the board instead of resetting its respawn timer, or spawned the awakened during the bounty or something, that would be a lot more interesting. As it is it just makes us not want to do bounties because it’s depressingly common how often it happens.

I don’t think that lowering the spawn rate of these is the solution, Anet. :V

The specimen chamber meta event is easily farmable, very quick, and very easy. I find that I like it quite a bit for whatever reason, and the champs (at least for now) are more funny than they are annoying. I also appreciate that things aren’t scaled to hell like they have been in the past.

This was kind of what killed Istan for me honestly. Palawadan farm is long, annoying, and completely dominates the zone. I was never a fan of it, and despite the nostalgia goggles I had for Istan, it kind of ruined the zone for me.

The special action key boost skill on the skimmer race is really entertaining. I want it back.

The bag collection with Efi was super sweet. I really enjoyed Efi and the cultural aspects, and that the collection wasn’t supremely bugged.

I need to know more about Zohaqan and Rakis pls.

IG-6417 is ridiculous. xD

Bugged event is bugged. I want to get rid of these recordings taking up a bag of my inventory pls ;-;

On A Bug in the System:

I enjoyed sneaking in the first instance. Although doing it with friends just makes it broken easy.

No for real. Although people got stuck accidentally and then things went south and it was quite funny.

I really like the Olmakhan. It’s interesting to see a completely different set of charr from the legions, and listening to Rox interact with them (including being completely aghast at the idea of raising children instead of using fahrars) was an interesting contrast.

We bugged the golem fight at the end of A Kindness Repaid quite hard - the elder’s bubble stayed up, and the golem didn’t lose stacks, so we just...hit it for a very long time and thought the fight was exceedingly boring.

Also when everyone was mourning said elder, we were confused because he was standing upright still in casting position.

Thank you Anet for not making doing the hearts mandatory for the main story. Although I did them all anyway before finishing :V

I hate the special ley-lines in one of the labs. REEEEE stop sending me into walls

RIP Lonai.

I do love that these heroes from GW1 keep popping up. It’s a nice touch for people who do remember their names.

The surprise teleports to DR and Frostgorge and Mount Maelstrom were pretty silly, but pretty amusing.

THAT AWKWARD TALK WITH BRAHAM. Boi. Boi pls.

We managed to hear male sylvari, male charr, and female human, and I’m still a huge fan of the male sylvari delivery of “Oh thank the Pale Mother.” It was beautifully sassy and relieved and precisely the tone Ive would have.

I do like that Braham is seeing some character development here (and to a lesser extent Rox). This release had him facing the greater consequences of fighting Elder Dragons, and seeing the impact of things outside of just that. He’s still an angry brat, but he’s learning more about the world around him and understanding that he’s not seeing the whole picture. There’s also the whole fact that it’s kind of problematic for him to not be able to kill Jormag since Taimi and the PC sent it back into hibernation, but ayyyy

Ive is still mad at him though. More tired of him than anything, but Ive is tired of everyone these days and takes shit from no one.

I feel like we’re being set up to ship Taimi x Blish. Blish is adorable so I don’t really have complaints, but gee that was blatant, Anet.

I am quite interested in Taimi’s progression. I do want to see how she deals with all this pressure, and how she’s going to work moving forward.

Also those FMA feels with Gorrik and Blish. If a golem or something named Nina shows up I’m done.

S C A R A B P L A G U E. I’m interested that this is the direction they’ve chosen to go in, but if Joko wants to kill everyone and resurrect them as his undead minions around the world, I guess the Scarab Plague is a pretty efficient way to do it.

I think he might still be a bit salty over being left in the Domain of the Lost.

No, no praise Joko.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #a bug in the system #living world season 4 #living world season 4 spoilers #even though it's been a couple weeks #xD #hi friends #just babbling again #don't mind me #I'll post sketches someday #;-;#busy busy #S C A R A B P L A G U E

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makebelievetimeformymind · 7 years ago

Text

Don’t believe me, ask him. Part 3

Characters: Dean & Sam Winchester, Jaslyn (OFC), Silas (OMC), Reese (OFC), Crowley

Word count: 2,523

Summary: After skipping town after town Jaslyn finally found one she could see herself settle in. For awhile that is at least. Only for the normal supernatural life to follow her there due to her normal old habits always catching up to her. She didn’t see this coming a million miles away though. Was her luck about to change for the better or was she gonna be stuck packing up going off on the run again? Only this time with the Winchester's on her trail?

Warning: (Not too sure what all to put here) Language, speaking of drug use and alcohol, simple flirting, (18+ only), this one don’t apply too much for this one but there's no telling what may come.

A/N: I do not own supernatural or any of it's characters besides the OFC's I have created. Do not repost my work anywhere without my permission please. That is if it is even good enough for such wanting. This is my first try at any fan fiction writing. Please be honest with how you feel about it. The only way to get better in my mind is by taking others opinion's into thought. Unless it's just hate crap, then save it for the birds.

Master List

Tags: @soythedemonqueen @dragongirl420 @srj1990 @deathly-smirk @sofreddie @hyphymanatee @ellen-reincarnated1967 @chelsea072498 @neganswinchesters

Update:: shout out to @soythedemonqueen for the Aesthetic, forgot to leave the credit! All other gifs were found through google.

anybody wanting to added, let me know!

Don’t Believe me, ask him Part 3

Walking out of the blood bank I spotted Dean and Sam outside leaning on the impala. ‘How fucken sexy is she?’ I couldn’t help my eye ball the whole car, not even paying attention to the guys looking back and forth to each other with wide eyes.

“Like what you see, huh?” Dean voice lingering getting his words out.

“Yessir, I sure do” I said, switching my eyes from the car to him. The shine in his eyes were unreal. My heart fluttered, again.

“Get in doll, we’re gonna take a classic today. Not that ricer you be driving.” He chuckled out loud.

Rolling my eyes I slid into the back seat. I couldn’t lie about how this car was a wet dream to myself but I wasn’t gonna let him know such knowledge. Dean drove us to a small café down the road close to the bar we first encountered each other at. There aren’t too many places to go around here being such a small town.

As we were walking into the café the waitress perked her head up from her phone and laid eyes upon Dean first. She slowly made her way to Sam and never once looked at me. Her eyes lit up with joy as she glanced back at Dean but once I made her line of vision her face went sour.

“Hello, my name is Reese and will be your waitress for the afternoon. What may I get y’all to drink?” She was trying to sound sweet. Handing us our menus her eyes never left Dean’s face but to look his arms up and down. He paid no attention to her drools just looked over at me. Sam’s eyes switched back and forth between Dean and me sitting next to each other and back to the bimbo with a smile. I glanced at Sam then back to Dean, who was already looking back at her and slowly to the waitress with a cheesy smile.

“A beer for me and”, Dean nodded over at me “whatever she wants.” Reese looked down at her pad waiting for to answer.

“Water, with lemon please on the side, lots of it please.”

“Sweet ice tea with lemon.”

“Okay, I will be right back with those drinks.” She said, getting one good smile in at Dean before spinning around to walk away.

I looked over at Sam waiting on one of them to bring up the reason we were here to start with. I could only hope I wasn’t about to put myself in between a rock and a hard place.

“Sooo, who is gonna start this awkward conversation were about to have.” I said, winking at Sam.

“Uh, well. I guess I will.” Sam sat up some to straighten his back placing his hand folded in front of him. “Jaslyn, there were blood bank donation bags found next to a girl half drained. There is only one blood bank in this area-”

“and you work at it.” Dean chimed in. I switched back and forth trying to look clueless. ‘Fucking A’

My heart started to race. Silas still hadn’t said anything to me so I’m flying solo here. Feeling a lump in my chest I try my best to think of anything to say.

“And?” I turned my body towards Dean leaning against the wall to look him right in the eyes. Reese was on her way back with our drinks thank god.

“Now, what may I get ya’ll to eat?” She said, after sitting our drinks down without any lemon. “What about you handsome?” Looking at Dean she flashed her dimples.

“Uh, excuse,” Expecting her to at least look at me, I kept talking, “I asked for lots of lemon on the side and my buddy here also asked for some.” I started out sounding decently nice but by the end my tone was annoyed because she wasn’t paying any attention. I could see Sam looking at me out of the corner of my eye and Dean turning to look too. She finally took her eyes off him when no one was looking at her but me. “Lemon, please…” Giving her a sassy smirk showing my own dimples she narrowed her eyes at me and walked away.

“Rude much?” Dean chuckled out. “You didn’t have to bite her head off”

“Maybe if she could drool and do her job correctly at the same time there would have been no need for me to be short.” Making a snorting sound I shrugged my shoulders. Shortly after getting that out my mouth she was back with my lemon. “Thank you, ma’am”

“May I get ya’ll something to eat?” Her attention was still only on Dean. The rumors about women loving him were sure true.

“I don’t know about these two here but I could go for the house burger and fries.” Dean answered without even looking at the menu.

Sam shook his head, “I’m gonna pass and just stick to my drink.” She was finally making her way around the table, vision wise.

I wasn’t too sure if I felt like eating or not. Not being medicated messed with my appetite and since they picked me up I wasn’t able to smoke my daily lunch blunt. She was focused on me waiting with her pen in hand and pad in the other, pen flopping slightly and eyebrows lifted with impatience. “My apologies, I didn’t have a chance to look because of the guys here.” Opening the menu I could hear her let out a sigh. “Let me get the cheese sticks with marinara.”

“Okay then, house burger with fries and an order of cheese sticks,” adding a bit of sass, “Correct?”

“Try not to forget the marinara with it.” I mentioned with my own amount of sass as she started to walk away.

“Do you two know each other?” Sam asked with curiosity in his voice turning his head sideways slightly.

Dean shifted his shoulders toward me and placed his arm on the back of the booth. “Yeah, vibes between you feels like there’s some history. You steal her boyfriend or something? Girl…? I never got an answer about that the other night by the way…” His smile made my heart jump some.

‘Dude, what the fuck’

Chuckling I took a sip of my water and started squeezing the lemons in it. Sam and Dean were waiting on me to respond but I just kept mixing my lemon water trying to make it stronger.

“Because that would be super hot and we may even have a friend that would interes-“

“Dean, Charlie doesn’t need you playing match maker and I’m sure Jaslyn don’t need your help either.” Sam busted out laughing to his brother’s face expression. Dean bunched up his nose and rolled his eyes.

“It’s nothing like that.. She is my best friend’s ex.” I said, like it was nothing. It was nothing. Silas was my best friend and for the last 6 months that’s all he had been, a friend. They were broken up before I moved to this town. “They had some falling out shortly before I moved here, couldn’t tell ya what over. All I know is they broke up and to her I’m the reason. She thinks we’re banging. I’m the home wrecker” I said, using quotation marks with my fingers for home wrecker. ‘Sure, let me tell you all about my soul selling best friend I met during take your daughter to work day’

A few moments later she brought our food correctly to us and went on her merry way to check on other tables.

“Back to why we asked you to speak to us,” Sam trying to change the subject he leaned in over the table, “Have you noticed any strange activities around the office or around town?”

“Strange like how?” I raised my eyes brows and him.

“Well, for starters there have been 3 dead bodies found drained of their blood. They all had IV marks in the arm but for one. Renee Jenkins was found sliced up with no IV marks along with a bag from your job.” Dean said, picking up his burger.

My heart started to tighten. “I didn’t know about any murder until I saw the photos you had at the bar. As far as the other’s, I don’t watch the news for that reason right there. I already know how fucked up it is up here so why bother?”

“Up here?” They both caught what I said and tilted their heads at me. “What do yo-“ both at the same time again.

“Hold on Sammy.” Dean said, sitting his burger down. “What do you mean by up here?”

‘Quick Jas, think... THINK.’

“You don’t believe in heaven and hell?” Lifting my head up in confidence I looked back and forth into their eyes. Showing no sign of worry on my face the best I could I dipped my cheese stick and took a huge bite. Dean already had half his burger down. “Or do you believe the whole hell on earth shit?”

“Oh no... There is a hell for sure.”

“You speak like you have some sort of experience in that area.”

“Jaslyn, who all works at the clinic?” Once again, Sam was trying to keep us all on track. Dean was eye balling me.

“There’s me, my boss, who’s the manager and the two nurses that take the blood. That’s it.” With bags being found, me not being able to do my weekly count and not going through the fanny pack before coming back to work I have no way of telling if the bag was mine or not. But deep in my heart something is telling me Silas didn’t do this now. Nothing is adding up. The first two people, whoever they are, could possibly been Silas, even then I know he wouldn’t kill someone, but this chick they are asking about now couldn’t be. The moment they said she was sliced up I knew it wasn’t him.

“Who is in charge of inventory?”

“That would be me.” I said raising my hand to the waitress since she hadn’t been back around since bringing our food. She saw me and rolled her eyes.

Dean had already finished his burger by the time she made it to us. I hadn’t ate a whole cheese stick but my lunch break was about over so it didn’t matter. “Can I get a to-go carry out?”

The boys looked at their watches. They must have forgotten I was on a lunch break and had a job to get back to while they were working on their own.

“Sorry dudes. Is there any way we can finish this in the car. I need to start heading back.”

As we paid our bill Reese spoke loudly, “Ya’ll be sure to come on back and see me ya hear.” Smiling her fake grin she turned to me. “I sure hope Silas knows you’re out with two strangers having lunch.”

“Nah, but I know you will be sure to let him know for me.” Walking out the front door I could hear her start to say something under her breath but couldn’t make it out so I turned back around. “Be sure to tell him I rode in their car too. It’s a classic. He ass would almost love it as much as me.” I hollered over my shoulder laughing.

Sam and Dean followed me out to the parking lot laughing their heads off. “Are you sure you didn’t steal anything from her?” This time it was Sam questioning me. “From the sounds of it you di-“

“I already told ya’ll I didn’t take shit from her.” I said, opening my door sliding into the middle of the back seat. “I’ma level with ya’ll… but I gotta know mister beer-thirty I needs to smoke before getting back to work, are you gonna let me or what?”

Dean eyed me through the rear view mirror. Sam tilted his head toward his smiling brother. “Don’t you burn anything back there ma’am”

Sam’s eyes grew huge with shock. “The man who doesn’t let dogs in here is gonna let a chick smoke a j?”

“Shut your pie hole, Sammy.”

Giggling I pull my pre-rolled blunt out and roll my window down some. Sparking it I finished. “So, as I was saying…. I’ma level with ya’ll. This morning my boss told me not to worry about the baggy count. Just told me to send out my normal doings and off into his office he went.”

Dean looked over at Sam.

“Anyhow,” I said, exhaling the thick smoke. “I been working there going on five months and I’ve always done the count and ordered what we needed ‘til today.”

We were almost back to the clinic by now and I hadn’t even got to smoke half. ‘I’ma have to go through that pouch’

“Think you could try and do a count for us. It would be a huge solid.” Sam was turned all the way around now facing me. “Please, Jaslyn. Something in my heart is telling me you have nothing to do with all of this. That you’re just a girl working at a place that just happens to be the focus of something not natural.”

‘Yeah, maybe not this… but.. still. You silly boys’

Pulling into the parking lot I slung my purse over my shoulder and dabbed the blunt out on the bottom of my shoe. “I can’t make any promises. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you Jaslyn. So much.” Sam said as I got out.

“Can I get your number? You know, in case we need to be in touch. Well, we do really..” Dean grinned at me showing those lovely whites. Those dimples were to die for.

“I mean, I suppose ya’ll can have it to be in touch.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, “I like her.”

I walked over and took the cell from Dean’s hand, “I do too.” He smoothly said, winking at me.

“Call me later Sir. If I don’t pick up I’ll call you back when able.” Before I could make it to my desk I was getting a call on my cell. ‘Dean already?’

My heart was jumping with joy until I saw the name.

“Yes, Father?” With my voice full of sass, “How may I help you today? Anybody needing any talking’s to so you can grasp their desperate souls?”

“Mock me how you please but no daughter of mine will be associating with the Winchesters.”

Sitting down in front of my computer I kicked my purse under the desk glanced at my boss’s office door. “Look, I do not have time for this. There are far more important things I have going on compared to you being worried about how you may look in front of other. Others who ar-“

“The daughter of the King of hell cannot and will not be hanging out with the Winchest-“

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing there aren’t many who even know of me, huh!”

Word Count: 2,523

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic writing #dean winchester #Dean x OFC #Sam Winchester #winchester #au #crowley #OFC #personal writing #don't believe me ask him #OMC

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mysongofpurpose · 6 years ago

Text

August 29th, 2018; I Thought This Would be Fun

The floodwaters are coming. Food supplies are running low. We have lost all contact. I'm afraid sacrifices must be made. The Amish must go. All hope is lost.

Well, it wasn't quite that bad, but this train trip was a bit of a mistake. A bit. A few bits. Many bits. A whole byte. Many megabytes worth of mistakes. We pull up to the Toledo train station at 5am which by the way, looks like it hasn't been in operation since '95. Lady at the desk tells me I can't check bags for my international trip. At first, I'm confused. I'm a million and forty three percent sure that their website said checking bags was allowed on all three of my connecting trains. "Nope, I'm afraid you can't. Your third train isn't even in the system for checked baggage." Now, I'm in a bit of a panic. I am moving across the continent and have just been told that everything I've packed is not allowed to come with me. Then I'm told that I could potentially be allowed to bring those as carry ons if the conductor thinks it's okay. My life can now fall apart at the whims of a man that drives a train. I end up calling customer service and after explaining the situation, the man on the other end confirms that I can indeed check bags on my rides. "So why can't I check my bags?" "Sir, we stop checking bags 45 minutes before departure." Blah, blah, blah, blah. First off, I got here over an hour before my departure time and if the lady at the front desk didn't give me problems for the past 40 minutes I wouldn't be in this situation. Second, their train was running so late it wouldn't arrive until 8 and the earlier train set to depart at 5:25 arrived at 6:30. My train was supposed to leave here at 6:15. I was basically still over 45 minutes early. It all worked out since the conductor was a nice guy who took on the responsibility of taking everyone that would be on the two hour late train and let me put my boxes in an empty car. I thought my problems were over. I couldn't be more wrong.

We arrive in Chicago. At this point, I am running on three hours of sleep that for some reason, I spent imagining people stealing my stuff. It ended up being three hours of phasing through different degrees of consciousness. Long story short, the only thing stolen was my sleep by myself. On the Chicago to Seattle train, I end up sitting next to these three guys that were also on the Toledo train. I try to get my rest and soon I'll be in Seattle and it wil be all merry and 44 hours will be over in a jiffy. Wrong.

At 8pm, in the middle of Wisconsin, we stop. It had been raining for the past few hours and cell signal was getting very very ~~very very very very very~~ unreliable. Offline mobile games were getting boring and watching rain roll down the windows wasn't very entertaining either. It was then that I realized that I was promised WiFi. They told us the trains had WiFi. They told us wrong. We did not have WiFi. Nobody had WiFi. I bet these farmers didn't even have WiFi. Luckily, as soon as we stopped though, signal picked up again and remained at a mediocre rate as long as we weren't moving. I got to know the guys I sat with a little and it turns out we enjoy a lot of the same things so we just played games on our phones for a bit. Then I had dinner with my mom and sister. Now I learn that when they said they had food on the train, it was not like plain food that was covered by your ticket. It meant you had to choose between their highway robbery concessions stand that charged $2.75 for a small bowl of ~~ramen~~ cup noodles or their corporate robbery dining car that served wine and luxurious foods on plastic plates then charged you $25 for a small steak. Everything else on my plate was also public school system serving sizes. Now usually I like my meat medium rare, but I always get them more well done than medium so this time, I ordered rare. I thought I was smart. I am not smart. I ate my extremely rare steak. It tasted okay at best.

I went to sleep at 2am. The train had still not moved.

There's been a lot of Amish people getting on and off throughout Wisconsin and Minnesota. I've never seen them in person besides a few on road trips and the like. I'm not too sure what their lifestyle is exactly, so I'm curious as to how much modern stuff they have incorporated into their lives. Turns out trains are fine for them. So are notebooks and pens. As are personal Digiorno's cheese pizzas. Those hand sized goodies may be found at Amtrak concessions stands for a cheap cheap price of $7.25. The Amish seemed like kind people. I saw one of them chatting it up with another passenger. They kept to themselves and definitely were not as nosy as I was though. It was definitely interesting to see how the modern world incorporated into their olden ways. I always drew my pilgrims holding turkeys and not family sized bags of Doritos.

Since I slept so much at odd intervals out of boredom, I was awake at 6. I spent most of my time in the observatory car staring at trees that never moved when I wasn't sleeping or playing on my phone. At around 11, the crew announced that we all get a complimentary lunch due to the delay. I sat with my three new aquaintances and we all had a measly amount of beef stew and rice. It tasted okay and was free so I'm not complaining. Halfway through the meal the train finally started moving again. Then it stopped again shortly after. We had sat in the same place for 16 hours. My layover in Seattle in only 9 hours and I'm pretty sure the train to Vancouver runs only once a day so it looks like I'll be spending an extra day. Nobody really knew what was going on, but I heard stuff about tornado warnings, flooding, laying new track, and something about repairing a bridge. I spent the rest of the day getting to know the three guys.

At one point, I found out they had these little goody bag sort of things similar to airplane snacks. The best part? They were free. I've been mainly sustaining myself off these things. There are two small cookies, a small bag of pretzels, and a miniscule amount of trail mix in each pack. I think I've had seven. Besides those, Ive also had two large Twix bars, a cinnamon bun, and this weird rolled up pizza pretzel thing that tasted a lot like a rolled up half cooked slice of pizza. At the discounted price of a dollar, it wasn't too shabby. I bought the Twix and cinnamon bun because they've got the most calories per dollar spent. I can only eat so many free pretzels before I get sick of them. I've tried not to eat and drink too much because the bathrooms are nasty and passing the terrible food I've eaten does not sound good. It's not looking so hot after getting stuck on the train an extra 16 hours though. Right now, I developed a bit of a cold because I dressed for the terribly humid Troy weather we had when I left then got completely blindsided by the ridiculous amount of air conditioning on the train. Now I usually am not one to be cold, but I am cold. To top it all off, a stomach ache has settled in. It kinda hurts, but isn't really the "gotta go" kind of ache. Main suspects are the rare steak, half cooked pizza, and full pretzel diet. Hopefully this goes away overnight.

Another thing I've noticed is that everyone's starting to smell. I know, it sounds horrifying. It isn't necessarily a terrible smell, but the lots of living things have been here kind of smell. I would say live livestock, but those just smell like poop. Maybe more of a lots of dogs sort of deal? It's a bit like a locker room exxcept for the reeking of old sweat ordeal. Actually, the best comparison would probably be a full laundry basket except every article of clothing carries a different persons fauna and odors. I can definitely feel that I am releasing a little too many aromas than to my liking. It really doesn't help that all of us spend a majority of our time sitting and laying in these seats. The 16 extra hours are also not helping in any way. Honestly though, it's not as bad as I made it sound.

All in all, a long distance train ride is not something I'm looking to try again. Especially with a rail system nowhere as developed as Europe and Asia.

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thursdayfilebuzz · 7 years ago

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Photo I: George C. Creelman lilies at the Ontario Agricultural College. // Photo II: Isabella Preston in 1927, among her flowers. // Photo III: A true George C. Creelman lily, close up. / Photo IV: A plant from one of Henderson’s potential George C. Creelman bulbs, which he thinks is likely an inferior varietal. - by Alex Henderson // Photo V: Isabella Preston in 1918, two years after she bred the Creelman. -- The Hunt for a Missing Canadian Lily The pioneering horticulturist Isabella Preston bred the George C. Creelman lily in 1916. At some point in the 1940s, it seems to have vanished. by Cara Giaimo - August 14, 2017 - http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/creelman-lily-isabella-preston-mystery -- In 1928, the plant breeder Isabella Preston took a moment between her duties at Ottawa’s Central Experimental Farm to reflect on her first big success. The Canadian Horticultural Council had asked her to write down a detailed description of a particular flowering plant, in order to answer a taxonomic question. So sometime after watering the columbines, or cross-pollinating the Siberian irises, she jotted down some words about the George C. Creelman lily—a big, white-flowered varietal she had bred 12 years earlier, and that had gone on to take the gardening world by storm. Over 80 years later, in 2009, curator Alex Henderson took a break from his own day-to-day duties to rifle through the Isabella Preston archives at his workplace, the Royal Botanical Gardens in Ontario. “I found this handwritten description of this lily,” he says. “Written by her, in her own handwriting.” He pauses, and his voice gets hushed: “It was one of those nerd alert moments, where the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.” To Henderson, this wasn’t just esoterica. It was a piece of evidence in a mystery that spans centuries. At the time he found Preston’s description, Henderson had been searching for the George C. Creelman lily for about two years; by now, he’s been on the hunt for a full decade. To Henderson and other experts, the vanished lily is a vital part of Canada’s horticultural history. Its creation marked “the first real attempt to introduce a lily that was acclimatized to the Canadian climate,” he says. It is also, as an early example of Preston’s hybridization, a kind of lost masterwork—the equivalent of a missing Bach cantata, or a stolen Blue Period Picasso. Canada is a tough place for your garden-variety lily. Up until the early 1900s, plant-lovers there had to make do with flowers bred for gardens in the United States and Europe, which tend to be suited to more temperate climates. Although much brainpower had been put toward making fruits, vegetables, and grains suitable for northern climes, less utilitarian plants hadn’t yet been given that same treatment. As the archivist Edwinna von Baeyer explains in her 1987 article “The Horticultural Odyssey of Isabella Preston,” in the years after World War I, horticulturists found that of the decorative plants being imported from Europe and America, “perhaps 50%… [were] not suitable for Canada.” Into this void sailed Preston. Herself a transplant to Canada—she and her sister immigrated from England after their mother’s death—Preston always knew she wanted to work with plants. She described herself as “born with green fingers,” and was known to remark that all of her earliest memories were vegetable-related. Undaunted by the lack of women in such fields (“If you have to do something agricultural, why not take up poultry?” one acquaintance asked her) she enrolled in the Department of Horticulture at Ontario Agricultural College as soon as she arrived in the country, in 1912. She pursued her studies with quiet vigor: over the course of her time at the college, she later wrote, she eventually read “all the books in the library.” After a year of classes, she switched to a self-study course, and began working full-time in the greenhouses. There, within a few years, she had started growing hundreds of lily bulbs for her own experiments. In 1916, these experiments bore their first significant result: the George C. Creelman lily. Preston had crossed two cultivars from southern China, the first a particularly vigorous and hardy plant, called Lilium regale, and the second a large-flowered, fragrant one called L. sargentiate. The result was “stronger-growing and later-blooming than either parent,” writes von Baeyer. It grew about 6 feet tall, and its flowers were white and sweet-smelling, with yellow throats and pink speckles. She named it after the president of the Agricultural College, George C. Creelman. When, after four years of tweaking, the Creelman lily was released to the public, it was an immediate and lasting hit. Breeders used it to make more hybrids, and the Royal Horticultural Society granted it an “Award of Merit” in 1934. The Creelman lily moved hobbyists to histrionics (“it is difficult to speak with restrained enthusiasm” about it, one wrote), and experts to gestures of respect: upon seeing an early specimen in bloom at the Ontario Agricultural College, one horticulture professor wrote that he “felt like taking off [his] hat.” As Henderson later found, it ended up in collections as far afield as Europe and Australia, a local plant made good. And then, at some point in the 1940s, it seems to have vanished, Henderson says. His own quest started in 2007, with another handwritten clue: a cocktail napkin, scrawled with the phrase “George C. Creelman lily” and given to him by a colleague who had run into Creelman’s grandson at a bar. As the curator for the Royal Botanical Gardens, Henderson is used to tracking down obscure plants. He was also passingly familiar with the lily, whose reputation for beauty and vigor has endured, and he figured it shouldn’t be too hard to dig up. “We didn’t have it, but I went into our plant records, and we used to have it,” he says. When local nurseries also lacked any living specimens, he went farther afield—“around Canada, and then Europe, and Australia,” he says. “All these places used to have it, and then didn’t. I realized then that this was a very strange story.” Henderson’s first big lead came a couple of years after the hunt started, from a colleague at the former Ontario Agricultural College, now called the University of Guelph. “I happened to tell him the story,” he says, “and at the end of it he goes, ‘I’ve got that.’” The friend sent over a few bulbs, and Henderson waited impatiently for them to grow and flower. When they did, he set up a kind of plant-forensics room inside the Royal Botanical Gardens. “I got two botanists that work here, and I literally locked them in the room with the handwritten description and the lily flowers, so they could try to compare and contrast,” he says. “I was pacing up and down the corridor for two hours waiting for the results.” When said results came, they were inconclusive. “They said, ‘You know what, it’s really close—but there’s just enough doubt in our minds,’” he says. So Henderson went back into the archives, where he began to piece together what he calls a “CSI-type” story of mistaken identities and genetic mayhem. It turns out that in the years after the Creelman lily made it big, breeders began to notice small differences between individual plants, genetic variations that stemmed from the original crossbreeding. The Agricultural College’s strict naming rules meant that only one of these varieties could be considered the official George C. Creelman lily, and asked Preston to decide which one it would be. (Henderson thinks that the bulbs he got belonged to one of the inferior offshoots, which would explain the botanists’ diagnosis of close-but-not-quite.) “She claimed that the true varietal was a bulb that was owned by a man named Robert Patterson,” a commercial breeder, Henderson says. “But nobody knows who this guy was. The trail goes cold.” At this point, Henderson isn’t quite sure how to heat it up again. So far, his lily-sleuthing has largely had to take place in spare moments, in between larger projects. “I can’t dedicated my full-time job to finding one plant for ten years—I’d get fired, right?” he says, a bit wistfully. He sees his quest as a mix between Jurassic Park and art appreciation: “You’re bringing something back that used to be around, and is no longer here,” he says. “It’s also no different than [looking for] a painting or a photograph or a work of art—it’s about that higher meaning, how humanity values aesthetic beauty.” The Creelman lily was just the first of many successful Preston hybrids. By the end of her 30-year career, she was a giant of horticulture, with an international reputation. Von Baeyer relates a tale in which a Japanese admiral, brought to the United States on a diplomatic visit, asks to take a day trip to Canada to meet Preston. She created hundreds of new plants, many of which she named for the people and places of her adopted homeland: crabapples after Canadian lakes; roses after First Nations peoples; dark red lilies after the Horticultural Society’s stenographers. “It’s incredible, really, the amount of plants she bred,” says Henderson. “Even though she’s not here anymore, her spirit very strongly is.” It’s because of that spirit that Henderson isn’t giving up. He recently happened to hear a woman talking about the Creelman lily on a gardening radio program; he has since connected with her, and gotten a few bulbs. In a year, when they bloom, he’ll lock the botanists in that room again and see what they say. He’s trying not to get his hopes up—he suspects they are inferior varietals, like last time. But if they do turn out to be the real thing? “I’ll probably have a beer,” he says. “Sit on a balcony for a couple of days and just relax.” -- Steven H MacDowall www.thursdayfile.com

#horticulture #George C. Creelman lilies #ontario agricultural college #tf canada #lily #isabella preston #Canadian Horticultural Council #flowers

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