#golf shirts vancouver

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was miserable without you, and the pain just wasn't lessening even though you left him weeks ago. He needed to find a way to move on, because you didn't want him, and you weren't coming back. But he should have known there was no substitute for the best thing he'd ever had.

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, angst, consensual sex, sex with a condom while intoxicated (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Weeks later...

As you flew to Vancouver from Detroit, you thought about that six hour flight to Boston where you hadn't stopped crying for a single minute. You thought about leaving San Diego and how it broke your heart to move on to the next city and the next assignment. At least this time you had a window seat instead of the middle seat in the last row. And this time you weren't continually wiping your tears on Bradley's Padres jersey. 

You had his jersey on again today, but this time you felt calm as you reached into your bag to take out your computer and read over the research you'd outlined about the Vancouver Canucks. Your eyes caught on the blue golf ball, and after a second of hesitation, you reached for that instead. 

You'd taken it everywhere with you. It joined you in every hotel room, on every flight and in every rental car. You had it with you in your tote bag when you were in Boston about a month ago working on the exclusive with the Bruins' coaching staff. You were carrying it when you bumped into Abigail Archer for the first time in person. 

With your article completely forgotten now, you dug your phone out of your pocket. It was in airplane mode, but you took a deep breath and unlocked it. You had to scroll a bit to get to the text thread with Bradley, and then you tapped his name and you almost let the tears rise to the surface. You held them back as you read the series of sporadic messages he'd sent you since early November.

I miss you. 

Did you make it to Boston safely?

Ace, please call me back. I miss you so much. 

I have this whole weekend off, and I can't help but think it would be easy for me to fly to wherever you are. If you would want that. 

I still miss you.

I hope you're doing well.

You hadn't responded to a single one of them. And you never called him back either. But sometimes, when you were in a hotel room in a city that you couldn't even identify without looking at your calendar app, you'd get lonely enough to listen to his voicemail message. See ya, Ace.

It took until you met Bradley Bradshaw for you to really understand just how lonely you were. Going back to your apartment in New York City didn't feel like going home. There was nothing there that made you smile. There were no baseball cards or too small Angels tee shirts. There was no Bradley making sure you were taking a break when you needed one. 

And he was part of the reason why you let yourself start to be convinced that you could have more out of your career. Maybe he was right. Somebody else might have something better to offer than Greg or the New York Times. When you talked to Abigail and started to test the waters, it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be. Making some calls to see what else was out there ended up validating one fact for you: Bradley was right, your writing was in high demand.

But you had to complete your contract with Greg before you could do much else. And that included Detroit and Vancouver. But you hoped after this, your work-life balance might improve. If you decided to take this information back to Bradley, you hoped he would listen to you. Maybe he would even see what you wrote about your career change in your Detroit Red Wings article. If he was even still reading your articles. There was a chance he might still miss you now, and maybe he'd understand that you needed to see the bigger picture for yourself first. 

Before you left him alone in his bed, he told you that you knew where to find him. He made you feel like it was still okay to go there.

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

Bradley walked past his coffee table dressed in his flight suit with his travel mug of coffee in his hand. He paused at the front door and looked back at the mess he still couldn't bring himself to clean up. You left him weeks ago, damn near a month ago, but he just couldn't bring himself to clean up all of the fucking baseball cards. 

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was being ridiculous. He was never ridiculous before he met you, so you must have made him this way. Every time he tried to clean them up and put them back out in his garage, his hands faltered and he left the cards out on the table. It was like some sort of sick reminder that you'd really been here with him. It was a way to convince himself he didn't imagine up the perfect woman in his mind and then have to live through the aftermath of watching her leave. 

He tightened his fingers around his mug and rubbed the heel of his other hand against his eyes. Then he took his phone out. He knew he shouldn't do it since you never answered his other messages before, but he texted you anyway. 

I hope you're doing well.

When he re-read what he'd sent, he started to panic. It sort of sounded like he meant it with an air of finality. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he didn't want to hear from you, because it was quite the opposite. There were times when he felt so lonely, he'd have done anything for you to write to him or call him back. 

He swore he could still smell you in his house, and right now it felt a little too much like you were there. He wrenched his front door open and slammed it closed behind him, breathing in the crisp December morning air. He had to start making some changes, and he needed to do it this week. You weren't going to respond to him. After four weeks he should accept that as a fact and stop bugging you. 

He'd been skipping Hard Deck nights and leaving the locker room after work without really talking to anyone. Nat knew why he was miserable, but even she seemed surprised it had gone on for this long. 

A few days ago, she said, "You've never behaved like this over a woman before. This has all just been very surprising, and I don't know how to help you."

Bradley had shrugged and laughed sarcastically. "Well, I fell in love with her. First time for everything, right? I'll know better for next time."

And that was the truly fucked up part. He had fallen in love with you over the course of ten days. As he drove to work, he thought about your face and your voice. He knew exactly how many miles he put on his Bronco driving back and forth to see you at the games in Anaheim. He knew exactly how much money he spent on all the tickets. He knew how badly it hurt right now to be without you. And he knew he'd repeat everything all over again if he could see you for five minutes. 

Just like every other day, he had to collect himself before he could head inside to the locker room. There was no getting his time with you back. There was no second chance. There was no communication. He needed to stop. He took off his aviators that you'd liked so much and set them in his cup holder. When he checked the time on his phone, he had a notification that a new article from you had been posted eight minutes ago. It was like this every day. He'd wait to see each morning if you'd written anything, and then after it was posted, he'd read it at least three times. 

Your final World Series article was the worst one. It was released two days after you left. He must have read it a hundred times. He'd even take a screenshot of the short passage he was certain was about him.

This World Series was exciting and dynamic for so many reasons. We witnessed some of the best major league pitching in the last decade, and there were more stolen bases than the past three finals combined. Professionally, I may never witness anything like this again. And I can even tell you that on a personal level, I was profoundly changed for the better by everything I allowed myself to experience and enjoy between San Diego and Anaheim over the course of the series.

Bradley looked at his phone screen now. It had to stop. He desperately wanted to read your article on the Detroit Red Wings, but he needed to make this feeling stop. It was like he was constantly in pain every time he thought about you or even simply read your name on his phone. Your written words were never going to help him move on, so he needed to do something about it right now while he felt like he could. 

He deleted the New York Times app. He thought about deleting your number as well, but he needed to save some of his strength to get through his workday. So he just tucked his phone in his pocket and climbed out of the Bronco.

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

When Bradley walked into the Hard Deck on Friday night after work, he felt defeated and exhausted. He managed to delete the app you wrote for, but he still couldn't bring himself to delete your phone number. Moving on was a necessity right now. He didn't even know why he bothered to come to the bar, but staying home and looking at baseball cards on his coffee table didn't seem to be helping him. 

"You're here!" Nat called out as soon as he walked inside. The bar was decorated for Christmas. Was it that close to the holidays? He'd completely lost track of the weeks, but at the same time, he knew exactly how many days it had been since he'd seen you. His mind was too aware of that number, and it tacked a new one on each day. 

"Hey," Bradley managed to grunt when his friend came over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. The Christmas tree and the strings of lights blurred, and he had to close his eyes. He was missing the feel of your arms around him and the way you smelled. None of this was Nat's fault or anyone's fault really. Bradley didn't even blame you. He couldn't. You and he were nothing. 

"Let me get you a drink," Nat whispered, and she took him by the hand. He recognized the upbeat Christmas song, and he saw the guys waving from the pool table. But when he turned to face the bar, Shannon was right there with her usual smile and a pint glass in her hand. He didn't know why he wasn't expecting her. The last time he saw her was when he brought you here, and he'd give anything to go back to that night. 

Bradley just shook his head. "Something stronger. Please." Shannon raised one eyebrow at him and set the pint glass down in favor of a whiskey tumbler and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Yeah."

"Haven't seen you around in a few weeks," she said, watching the amber liquid slosh neatly up the side of the glass as she poured. "Kinda missed you." She met his eyes as she pushed the glass across the bar. "You look so sad."

He held eye contact with her, trying his best to push the intrusive thoughts away. "Maybe I'll be around more now," he muttered, downing the whole drink in one go and setting the glass down again. 

Shannon was familiar to him. Comfortable. He'd been messing around with women for damn near two decades without any deep feelings. You were really his first foray into something... more. But you were gone. You didn't want to talk to him. You weren't coming back.

She refilled his glass and said, "Take this one a little slower, Bradley." He nodded before downing it just like the first one, and she kind of smirked and shook her head. "You'll pay for this in the morning."

He laughed sardonically. "That's the idea." He left the empty glass on the bar with a little nod indicating that he would be back. He desperately needed to clear his head, but he'd been trying everything for weeks. Taking a walk outside, having a cold shower, going for a drive. Nothing fucking helped. 

He needed to forget the feel of your body and the sound of your voice. So he drank an extravagant amount of Johnnie Walker on Nat's tab, and he started to feel looser. He laughed at her when she asked how many he had so far. 

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back," he rasped with a smile that he knew could charm every woman except for his best friend. 

She just rubbed her hand up and down his arm and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Let me know when you want me to get you home."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, Nat. Just fine." He finished his tumbler and tried to remember if that was his fifth or his sixth, but it didn't matter. He was warm now, and his lips were a little numb. This was exactly what he needed tonight. After he shot a round of pool and lost, he flipped through the jukebox, but it was all bullshit Christmas music. He wasn't in the mood. He thought about playing the piano, but there was an empty stool at the bar now, so he headed in that direction.

"One more?" Bradley asked Shannon as he sat, and she reached out to touch his cheek.

"You sure you really need one?"

"Yep," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat as she swam out of focus for a split second. "Just one more. It'll make it easier." 

She turned away from him to get one more clean glass. Then she filled it for him. "Thanks, Shannon," he muttered when she set it down in front of him. He was leaning on his propped up hand, and he knew she was kind of pretty. But he knew you were prettier and funnier and smarter. 

"You can't have what you want," he mumbled to himself after Shannon walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and just looked at the screen. Delete it. He had to. He opened his contacts, and there you were right at the fucking top. 

Ace

You'd always be at the top, wouldn't you? 

Instead of deleting your number, he sent you a text before he could reconsider. 

Ace, I fell in love with you.

Fuck. Fuck! You didn't want him. And there was no way to take that message back now. He closed his eyes and shook his head, because he couldn't tell if he was about to cry or laugh. He was fucking miserable. Truly, he'd never experienced this before, and it hurt like hell. His thumb hovered over your name once again, but he couldn't delete it. He drank the whiskey and tried again. But still nothing. 

He watched Shannon move around behind the bar. She wasn't you. She wasn't what he wanted, but when she announced that it was last call, she made her way over to him. 

"But no more for you," she teased, reaching to take his glass away. But he had her wrist in his hand before he registered what he was doing. She looked a little surprised. The tears were in his eyes again, but maybe it wasn't so obvious to her. He couldn't say the words. He needed her to be the one. When he licked his lips, she leaned a little closer. "I'm done in fifteen. Are you interested? Or are you too drunk?"

He took a deep breath as his eyes closed. He needed to try to move on. The pain needed to stop, or else he didn't know what he would do. Right now he was numb enough. It was now or never. "I'm interested."

Bradley was very aware of what he was doing, it just vaguely seemed like someone else was doing it. He gave his keys to Shannon once they were outside. "Remember where I live?" he asked, walking toward the Bronco. 

"Of course I do," she whispered. 

He found himself with his back against the passenger side door with Shannon's lips on his. It felt fine. Would probably feel better the more he got used to it again. He could do this. He kissed her back and told her to drive, because he knew he shouldn't. 

She drove and parked and took him by the hand, leading him inside his house. As soon as he saw the baseball cards, he wanted to upend his coffee table. He wanted to do this and get it over with and go to sleep for a week. And if he didn't feel better after that, then he didn't know what he was going to do. 

When Shannon tried to turn on his bedroom light, he took her hand in his and guided it away from the switch. "Too bright," he mumbled, and she started to get undressed. He stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom and closed the door. When he looked in the mirror, he'd never seen anything quite so pitiful. He splashed a little water on his face, but it just made his flushed cheeks stand out more. He dug around under the sink for some condoms he thought he still had. When his hand closed around the box, he sat back against the wall and cried. 

He had no idea how long he was in the bathroom. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe his face. You didn't want him. He went back to his bedroom where Shannon was naked on his bed, her skin glowing in the light filtering in from the bathroom where he forgot to flip the switch off.

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. But she must have taken that as a sign that he was ready to go. He wasn't, but he told himself he was. She touched him, and he let her. She kissed him some more, and he let her do that, too. He reciprocated. He knew to do that much. But it didn't feel like anything. He fucked her, but it just wasn't right. And then he fell asleep with a throbbing head and an aching heart and the wrong woman next to him. 

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

It had been years since Bradley had a hangover. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was hanging off of his bed, and his face was halfway smashed in his pillow. His mouth was completely dry, and he tried to press his lips together and swallow. He had no idea how he got home or what time it was. 

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He texted you last night. When he was sitting at the bar. He was pretty sure he told you he fell in love with you. He knew you wouldn't write back. You must have blocked his number by now. He was probably texting nobody by this point, but it still hurt like hell that you didn't want him the way he wanted you.

Then he remembered what he did after he texted you, and the bile rose in his throat so quickly. Shannon was right there next to him when he turned his head. He let her sleep over. He never let her sleep over before this. She was in your spot. He needed her gone immediately. 

"Hey," he grunted, his throat like sandpaper. "Shannon. You need to leave." 

She rolled over and glared at him. "Still tired," she whispered, completely naked in his bed. 

"Please," he begged. He was so fucking stupid, it was incredible. Now he was miserable and hungover and angry with himself. "I need you to."

She sighed and stretched, and Bradley made a beeline for the bathroom, stepping on a condom wrapper on the way. At least there was that. Then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He sat back against the wall for a few minutes, afraid there might be more he had to throw up. He knew his head was throbbing due more to the fact that he regretted everything he did last night with Shannon than him drinking most of a bottle of whiskey. 

There was tapping on the door. "If you want me to leave, I need to use the bathroom."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. When he brushed his teeth, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes once again. Was this ever going to stop? It had been more than a month. 

Bradley rinsed his mouth and opened the door, barely looking at Shannon as she walked past him, still naked. He went back into his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and some gym shorts and fought the urge to put all of his bedding in the washing machine. He couldn't even be in here right now, so he left for the kitchen. And he passed the fucking baseball cards again. He would have to throw them away or ask someone to come get them, because he needed them gone as much as he needed Shannon to leave. 

As he turned on his coffee maker, he heard someone knocking on his front door. He already wanted this fucking day to end. He tried not to look at the baseball cards as he passed the table and wrenched his front door open, and then his jaw dropped in surprise.

"Bradley. Hi."

He braced his hand against the door frame as he looked at you standing there on his tiny porch. You were wearing his Padres jersey. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be a dream. You were here.

"Ace."

He watched your face light up at the nickname, and you laughed softly as you examined him like you'd been dying to see him. He gripped the doorframe a little harder as he reached his other hand out to cup your chin and feel your silky skin.

"Holy shit, Baby. What are you doing here?" His heart was pounding, but he felt somehow normal again. Just like he had five weeks ago before you left him in a state of panic. 

"I came to see you." He stroked his thumb along your lip, but you didn't back away. In fact you took a tiny step closer as you added, "I have to be up in Anaheim tomorrow afternoon for some Ducks interviews, but I wanted to see you first. I thought we could talk."

Your eyes were open and earnest, and Bradley felt weak as he looked at his jersey on you. He let his hand drop away from your face, because he had no idea what to say to you right now. He had convinced himself he'd never see you again. "Did you get my texts? Or did you block my number?"

You pressed your lips together and then whispered, "I got your texts. And I've listened to your voicemail a lot. I've missed you." Bradley watched you smile tentatively and give him a little shrug. 

"You missed me," he said in disbelief. "And you got my messages. And you missed me. And you're wearing my jersey."

You looked down at yourself and laughed. "I've been wearing pretty frequently, actually. Turns out I don't have a dress code at my new office, which ironically is in Houston now, but I hardly ever have to be there in person."

When you met his eyes again, he asked. "New office?" He was so confused as he reached out and stroked your cheek with his fingers again just to try to make sure you were still real. 

"Yeah," you said softly, taking another step closer to him. "I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for a lot of things." You bit your lip before you said, "I left the New York Times. I just finished my last assignment for Greg yesterday. I'm working on a brand new piece now. I actually begged my new employer to let me come back to California for the Anaheim Ducks article even though it's a bit of a fluff piece, because it meant I could come here and tell you that I'm happier now."

"You are?" he asked, unsure what you meant by that. He was having a hard time listening to your voice and looking at your face at the same time, and he wondered how he'd managed ten days in your presence for the World Series. You were just so overwhelmingly perfect. 

"Yes, Bradley. You made me think about my career, and I kind of took the time to change some of my priorities. Because if there's a man as incredible as you who is willing to take a chance on me, then I can take the same kind of chance on myself."

"Ace."

You smiled up at what he was sure was a look of longing on his face. "I'm working for Velocity Report now, and I'm going to have a lot more time off between assignments. Which is important, because you reminded me that I need to take breaks and eat and take care of myself. Even when you're not around."

"I loved doing that for you," he gasped, suddenly dying to kiss you. 

"Yeah, well, you were really good at it," you said as your smile faded a little bit. "But that's why I'm here. To tell you all of this in person. You deserve to hear it in person instead of over the phone, especially since I never responded to you. I wanted to, but I just wasn't ready until now. And I don't know if you read what I said about you in my Detroit Red Wings article... but, I still miss you. And I love you."

His heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. "You love me?" he asked, absolutely needing you to say it again for him as your eyes drifted to where the box of baseball cards was still out on the coffee table. 

Your smile grew as you reached out for his hand and tugged him closer like you were going to kiss him. "Yes, I do. I love-"

Bradley heard a noise behind him, and his heart sank as his eyes went wide. You were looking off to the side, and he heard Shannon's voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to see her with a puzzled look on her face. He had completely forgotten she was even here. After a few minutes in your presence, you were the only thing that mattered.

"Oh my god," you gasped, wrenching yourself away from Bradley. "Oh, fuck." You looked at him with your hands on your forehead and tears in your eyes. "You know what? Forget I was even here. I'm sorry," you gasped, turning on your heel and walking full speed across his yard to the black car that was parked at his curb. 

It took him a second, but then he was right behind you. "Ace! No, Baby, you don't understand." But it didn't look like you were listening as you dug the keys to your rental car out of your pocket. "Ace! Please!" He ran barefoot out onto the street to try to beat you to the car door, but you were too fast. When he reached for your hand and spun you around to face him, you had tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He was frozen, clinging to your hand as you whispered, "She's the bartender. I should have never come here."

"No," he begged, stepping into your personal space, but you kept dodging him. "It's nothing. I want you here. I need you here."

But you pulled your hand free and reached for the door handle as you sobbed, and it broke Bradley's heart. "I need to go."

He was ready to drop to his knees. "She doesn't mean anything, Ace! Please! I missed you too, Baby! I've been miserable without you, okay? You have no idea." 

You wouldn't even look at him now as you pushed him out of the way so you could climb in the car. He felt all of his dreams slipping through his fingers twice now as you slammed the door closed, started the engine and drove.

"Ace!" he shouted running alongside your door until you hit the accelerator and left him standing in the middle of his street without shoes on. "Ace. I love you," he whispered as you turned left at the end of his block, and then you were out of sight. 

Bradley sank down until he was squatting with his face buried in his palms. "Fuck!" he screamed, the sound only slightly muffled as he jumped up to his feet and made his way back to his house where Shannon was standing on his porch. She looked disgusted as another car pulled up in front of his house. 

"Why are we sleeping together if you're clearly in love with her?" she asked, barely looking at him as she headed toward her Uber. "You should go take care of that."

As Bradley watched her away, he tried to pinpoint exactly how he'd fucked all of this up. He wondered if there was any way to fix it. Once again, he couldn't breathe correctly as that crushing feeling returned to his lungs. This feeling has vanished for those few minutes he was with you again.

"Maybe you don't even deserve her," he told himself as he walked back inside alone, thinking about how for a minute there, you'd loved him back.

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

Oh, Bradley. Oh, you sweet thing. Should I add one more part? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[tokentraders]

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[jimmydemaret]

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[youcouldmakealife]

Stevie is Bryce's linemate right? Any other details on him?

He is!

Loving son, brother, husband, dad (him and his wife have two little ones; he's Bryce's age). Super 'family is everything' guy, unironic 'sun's out guns out' shirt wearer (during his offseasons in Southern Ontario; sun's never out in Vancouver :( ), very proud of his golf score and his charity golf tournament...seriously don't mention the word golf or you're in for it, fans only have good stories after meeting him because he's always super friendly and has time for them especially if it's kids, horrendous sore winner at every single card and video game, pretty damn good at hockey. He's a bit of an oblivious doofus, but he always means well.

Stevie and Bryce get along well. Good liney chemistry, Stevie doesn't have the hockey IQ Bryce does and is always happy for insight -- not a guy who bristles to be told things he doesn't know, he appreciates any chance to get better. Bryce is always happy to see new kiddo pictures and hear how Stevie's family is doing and has tentatively agreed to come to Stevie's charity golf tournament (seriously don't bring up golf around Stevie), they sometimes sit together on the plane and snicker at funny animal videos and bloopers, when Stevie isn't beating his ass at poker.

Jared does not interact with him very often, thinks he's kind of a too loud too cheerful for his own good dumbass but has nothing really against him, just, you know, the general Jaredian disdain he has for 95% of people he encounters.

Stephen feels the same way Jared does, shocker. Obviously Stevie's the lesser of the Steves. Gabe's quite fond of him; Stevie's the longest serving non-Gabe or Dima Canuck -- there's been a lot of turnaround since Gabe won the Cup, and it's just started to solidify in the past five years, but Stevie came at the start of the new era. They've kind of built the team around themselves.

He's also the captain of the Canucks, which Jared has not mentioned even once due to Jared's whole...Jared-ness. That's honestly a part of why he's Stevie to Jared rather than Stevens or Michael (his name! that no one uses except his family, and he's Mikey to them). He's Stevie to the fans, the Canucks, the reporters, everyone. Stevie's Stevie. (or Stevedore to Gabe). Even his wife calls him Stevie most of the time.

He was given the captaincy the season Jared got there -- there was a vacancy after the previous captain signed elsewhere as a free-agent, they gave him an A, liked what they saw (also the fans kept yelling 'GIVE HIM THE C!!!'), and the C came a season later. Gabe handles some of the of the captain-ly room stuff -- Stevie's not the most serious of dudes -- but Stevie's great for media and on-ice captain stuff: reporters like him, so do refs. Canucks fans would die for him.

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Temptation

AN: I... I don’t even know what to say except for I’m so sorry? We had some tech issues at work today and I had this idea while I waited and it didn’t fit with Slides so here’s some plot with porn at the end with Mat? I wrote this in first person narrative but there’s no name or description in it. Also this is my first time writing anything like this and I didn’t spend much time proof-reading so please don’t judge too harshly

AN 2: I wrote a sequel called No Control and you can find it here so please check it out!!

Word count: 7.4k (things escalated what can I say..)

Warnings: cursing and smut, like really explicit content

He was only wearing a towel. Again. Seeing him walking around in nothing but shorts was already bad enough but this was on a whole other level.

When Mat had first invited me to come with him to his lake house by Vancouver to wait this mess out I had been thrilled. Fancy lake house overlooking the water with my best friend definitely sounded better than stuffy Brooklyn apartment in a city crammed with thousands of people infected.

Thankfully my online classes made the journey across the country possible and I only had to fly back for a short while to take my final exams. This wasn’t really how I envisioned my summer after graduating college but it could be worse I guess.

As I took a look at him all glistening wet from his shower on his way over to me by the kitchen island, I felt like I was trapped in an episode of temptation island or something like that.

Neither of us had expected this lockdown to last this long and almost two months of being holed up together was starting to take its toll. I’d known for a fact that I’d go batshit crazy if I were to stay with my own family or my crazy roommate though so his offer had truly been godsend. With the fancy club I usually waitressed at closed there was no way I’d be able to pay for my rent either, so I’d given my landlord my notice, put everything that I wouldn’t take with me in storage and followed Mat across the country.

His family was supposed to be up here with us and that way I’d have his sister as a distraction, but they’d decided to stay in the city, meaning it was only Mat and I. And my sexual frustration.

It didn’t help that my quarantine buddy looked like a fucking Greek god either. Any nun would probably go for him as well, frustrated or not. And I was definitely not a nun.

“Do you want to go paddle boarding after breakfast? The water shouldn’t be too cold today with the sun out.”

I looked out through the large floor to ceiling windows at Mat’s question, I’d been so distracted by him running around practically naked that I hadn’t even noticed that for the first time in three days there were almost no clouds visible. With May well underway British Columbia was apparently finally getting ready for summer.

“Yeah let’s do it. I still have to respond to a couple of emails before we leave tho.”

He took a look over my shoulder at my laptop, water droplets from his hair falling down my neck making me squirm.

“You’re getting me all wet”, I huffed before giving him a shove. Not thinking about the way his muscular shoulders felt underneath my fingers at all. Definitely not thinking about that. Nope.

“You’re the first girl I’ve ever heard complain about that you know?” He winked at me before throwing his head back in laughter as I flipped him off. The flirty banter that had been going on between us ever since we met almost two years ago wasn’t really helping my case either.

I was convinced the only reason why we hadn’t hooked up yet was terrible timing. We’d met at a time when both of us were seeing others and by the time we both were single again the previous months of platonic friendship had set our relationship in stone, never allowing for anything more than playful flirting and teasing. I’d thought about it for a couple of times, because honestly who wouldn’t with the way he looked?

Mat filled a cup with coffee and grabbed some of the breakfast I’d prepared before pulling out the chair next to me, looking at me expectantly. I was still munching on the remainder of my overnight oats so it took me a couple of seconds to swallow before I could ask what the hell he was waiting for.

“For you to finish whatever it is that you need to do. I have nothing else to do”

“I can’t concentrate with you hovering over me like this. Go work out or something.”

Mat had a really nice gym set up in one of the rooms and let me tell you if I had to pick one place to plank for the rest of the life, it would definitely be in there so I could at least watch the calming water while I died such a slow painful death.

“I already worked out, that’s why I just got out of the shower.”

“Well then put some fucking clothes on, you’re not some cave man who can get away with only wearing a loincloth”, I exclaimed, slowly getting flustered with him in such close proximity while knowing that one tuck could expose him completely. He cackled but got up nevertheless, making his way back towards his bedroom.

“Me being naked is yet another thing no one has ever complained about either, you wound me.”

“I’m sure Tito would disagree!”, I yelled, desperate to have the last word so I could at least keep some semblance of control in this situation. I could hear him laugh all the way from the other end of the house and quickly shook my head so I could finally get some things sorted out before he got back.

With the way the sun was shining right now I could probably get away with wearing only a t shirt over my swimsuit, which was a lot better than the full-on wetsuit we’d donned whenever we’d spent our time doing any water activities over the past few weeks. Although Mat in a wetsuit was truly a sight to see, with the way the fabric clung to him so tight that you could see every ridge of his muscles underneath.

I hustled through my emails, ready to relax for the day. Perhaps I could even start on my summer tan already, being out on the water always sped things up. Thankfully I’d bothered to bring lots of clothes and a bit of online shopping had closed any gaps that I had in my wardrobe, this bikini being one of the new acquirements as well. It was super cute and my butt looked really good in it and it would look even better once I finally got my tan going.

Mat was already lounging on the couch in the living room, scrolling through his phone and looking annoyingly perfect as ever. I knew for a fact that he hadn’t done anything with his hair and it looked so soft that I just wanted to push my hands through it. And pull it until he groaned.

“That one’s new”, he immediately said once he lifted his gaze to look at me, pulling me out of my fantasies. I hadn’t put my shirt on yet so he was getting the full view of me in the bikini, which might have been on purpose. I knew that quarantine must be getting to him as well and he wasn’t the only one that could be a tease.

I nodded, biting my lip before twirling around so he could get all angles. “You like?”

This bikini was a little bit skimpier than the ones he’d seen me in before and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t as relaxed at the sight as he pretended to be. Finally.

We grabbed our paddles and boards and slowly made our way out on the water. It still took me a couple of minutes to find my balance, no matter how many times I’d done this before but eventually I managed, Mat now slightly ahead of me. If I had my phone with me I would definitely take pictures of him right now, they’d be outdoor magazine worthy.

“Come on slow poke, what’s keeping you?”, he yelled over his shoulder and I was tempted to splash him but I already knew that that would end up in a fight I couldn’t possibly win so I only stuck my tongue out before working to catch up.

At first we kept close to the shore but eventually we slowly made our way out farther onto the lake, laying down on our boards to enjoy the gentle up and down of the water. The sun was hotter than anticipated so both Mat and I ended up taking off our shirts and using them as pillows instead. I closed my eyes to keep me from staring at him, instead relishing in the way the sun warmed my face.

“This is what life should always be like”, Mat sighed contently, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You’d miss hockey eventually. You belong on the ice.”

“Probably. But right now I’m not missing a thing ‘cause I got everything I need right here.”

I didn’t want to look at him out of fear of what I might see on his face, only giving him an affirmative hum instead.

-

“You’re seriously the best”, Mat sighed after emptying his drink yet again. I had decided that tonight would be taco night and made some margaritas to accompany them, both of us a couple of glasses in by now. It honestly could be a Tuesday but who even knows anymore. I was convinced that at least part of the reason why Mat had asked me to come with him was because he liked my food so much, especially when I cooked Mexican.

The sun was setting over the lake and we were sitting outside on the porch so we could watch the sun set above the water, music playing quietly in the background. He reached for the pitcher and I grabbed the golf club leaning against the sofa we were currently sharing, even though there was lots of space to lounge elsewhere.

Now I didn’t really like golfing, in fact I thought it was among the most boring sports to watch and not much better to play, but I did like to swing at the ball as hard as I could. I’d found some golf balls that would dissolve into food for the fish so for the last couple of hours Mat and I had taken turns in trying to get the ball as far as possible, both of us with a subpar form that only got worse after every margarita.

“No you need to rotate your hips along with the swing”, Mat commented and I threw him a look over my shoulder.

“You’re not much better you know.”

“Yeah but I’m also stronger than you so I can hit harder.”

“I’m not sure if that’s how it works Matty.”

For my next swing I made sure to exaggeratedly turn my hips with the movement, causing me to lose balance of course. In a split second Mat was there, his big hands resting on either side of my hips so I wouldn’t fall.

“Good reflexes”, I giggled, letting my head drop back onto his shoulder so I could look up at him, our eyes locking in an intense stare. He was standing so close to me that I could feel his breath fan across my neck it was very tempting to take the little step that was needed for me to be pressed against him completely. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, but the alcohol wasn’t exactly helping.

I could see him swallow hard, closing his eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go of me. “It’s what they pay me millions for you know.”

“Cocky little shit.” And just like that we fell back into our old rhythm again. I pushed any and all dirty thoughts out of my mind and instead focused back on my golf swing.

With every sip I felt myself relax more, the amount of alcohol in the second pitcher definitely stronger than in the first. I knew that Mat felt the effect of the alcohol as well by now, the way his gaze would turn unfocused from time to time giving him away.

I gave him a curious glance when he got up, knowing for a fact that him with a golf club would be a dangerous combination if he tried anything right now. To my surprise he walked over to the box where all the blankets were stashed, pulling out the fluffy grey one that I liked most before spreading it across both of our legs. He surprised me even further when he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to his side so I could rest my head on his chest. While behavior like this wasn’t completely unusual for the two of us, it had been a while since we last cuddled. It was as if Mat had been careful to not get too close up until this point, his resolve now gone.

“You know, I really like knowing things and learning how stuff works, but sometimes I just wanna be a kid again who doesn’t have a clue. I remember how I used to think that every star was a little fairy like the ones in Tinkerbell or something, I don’t know. The world used to be so full of wonders and now it’s all science this psychology that, you get me?” I listened to him ramble, the alcohol making him stumble on his words a couple of times as he tried to figure out how to properly articulate himself. I’d listened to his drunk thoughts for years now, still amazed at his ability to get all philosophical out of apparently nowhere.

“Kinda yea, but I also think there’s still lots of wonders left, some of them having to do with science. Why do comatose patients wake up? What must it feel like as a surgeon to be able to give someone a new heart, a new life? How can we know so much and yet still be wrong so many times? So the way I see it there’s still wonders, you just got to know where to look”, I finished my rant, looking up only to see Mat intently staring down at me. This wasn’t our first drunk real talk, but the way I was wrapped in his arms somehow made it feel more personal.

“By the way, I think I got lucky because I wasn’t even looking and yet I still somehow ran into you”, I continued, needing him to understand his importance to me all of the sudden. He’d truly been my rock over the past few months, keeping me from going insane as I approached the final stretch of my senior year. He’d reminded me to take care of myself and practically forced me to whenever I didn’t.

I couldn’t even count the amount of times I’d crashed at his place because my roommate was having some kind of crazy rager in our apartment, effectively making it impossible to study. He’d even offered up his spare bedroom once he moved into his new apartment but I declined because I wouldn’t be able to afford the rent at this place and I wasn’t about to leech off of him when I had other options.

“You are my wonder too, you know. I couldn’t have wished for a more supportive friend.” I smiled up at him, drunk happiness mixed with genuine love for the guy that had slowly turned into the most important person in my life. We’d come quite far.

It didn’t take long until the both of us were yawning so frequently that it was impossible to keep up a conversation, quickly gathering everything so we could go back inside. I hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten until Mat’s arm dropped from my shoulder and my legs were exposed again from underneath the blanket.

“You wanna have a sleepover?”, Mat asked grinning at me cheekily while walking across the living room. Never one to say no to cuddling with Mat, even before all this quarantine horniness, I nodded before dashing off to my room to get ready.

Mat was already snuggled under the covers and he lifted up one side as soon as he saw me getting closer. He liked to be the big spoon and because that was one of the best feelings in the world I basically let him do whatever until he deemed our sleeping position comfortable. He’d definitely pulled me a little tighter than he usually did, our bodies now practically touching from head to toe.

He’d tangled up one of his legs with mine and my back was flush to his chest, his face nuzzled into the back of my neck. He had wrapped one arm around my waist so even if I wanted to leave or move, I wouldn’t be able to. It was like a big perfect Mat cocoon.

As I laid there listening to his breathing slowing down I thought back to what Mat had said on the paddle board a couple of days ago, about how he had everything he needed right here with him. I knew that that wasn’t exactly true because he missed his family and even if he denied it I knew he missed hockey as well, but he’d also admitted to needing me with him and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel the same.

-

A few rays of sunshine had lit up Mat’s bedroom the next morning, but that wasn’t what had woken me up. Mat was calling for me from the ensuite bathroom and I could faintly make out the sound of water running.

“I need you to bring me your shampoo, I’m all out”, he yelled and I groaned before slowly rolling out of bed. In daylight I could make out the mess his room had become, clothes littering the floor and every other surface and I almost stumbled over a set of weights on my way out of the door.

I grabbed my shampoo out of my shower and even reached for the conditioner for good measure. His hair had gotten so long by now that it would surely appreciate the extra attention.

Making my way into the bathroom I was faced with a problem that I hadn’t thought of up until this point. The lake house was pretty new, meaning the interior design was cozy yet still modern. Meaning all bathrooms were equipped with big glass showers. Meaning that there was currently no shower curtain preventing me from seeing Mat fully naked in the shower.

I could close my eyes but I would 100% trip over his clothes that he’d strewn all across the bathroom floor so my only option was to try and keep my eyes up high. Keyword being ‘try’. At least he had his back turned to me but I was still mesmerized by the water running down his body and the way his back muscles rippled as he reached up to push his hair out of his face. And that ass..

I slowly approached the shower, praying that he wouldn’t turn around to face me but also kind of hoping he would. I opened the door a little bit so I could set the bottles down inside and thankfully he stayed put.

“Don’t put the conditioner on your roots or your hair will look greasy”, I said on my way out and even I could hear how breathless I sounded, the view having my thoughts run a mile a second.

As soon as I had the bathroom door closed I squeezed my eyes shut to try and regain my composure. The image of him in that shower was one I wouldn’t be able to get rid of for a long time. I couldn’t even take a cold shower to cool down because Mat had my stuff and he’d know something was up if I were to simply rinse myself off and I couldn’t exactly tell him that the sight of him naked had gotten me all hot and bothered.

So instead I decided to use all of my pent up energy to go on a run, hoping for the runner’s high to clear my thoughts. By the time I got back Mat was laying in the corner of the couch, an episode of The Office on the big flatscreen.

“We need to go to the store later”, I reminded him, knowing that I couldn’t walk in on him naked again without losing the little control I had left in my body. He nodded and then looked me up and down and for a second I was embarrassed. Even with only wearing running shorts and a sports bra I was still drenched in sweat, probably looking disgusting.

At least he’d put my stuff back so I could finally shower in peace, my thoughts still wandering back to earlier this morning. I wouldn’t have turned him down before all of this shit started but now that I only had my own hands and trusted toy to take care of myself, I was borderline desperate. Two months without sex was the longest dry spell I’d had in years and I couldn’t imagine Mat feeling any different. I knew from firsthand experience that he brought lots of girls home as well. Perhaps he needed something to happen as much as I did.

It was hard to believe that his shampoo had just been empty all of a sudden without him noticing first and then there was the fact that for the past few days he’d been parading around the house in only his boxers or towels.

Two can play this game, I thought to myself, pulling on a comfy shirt and some tight booty shorts, foregoing a bra which he was bound to notice because of how it stretched over my chest.

I pretended not to notice how Mat almost choked on the sip of water he’d just taken as I made my way into the living room, walking over to the kitchen to grab my own bottle. Even if I couldn’t see it to confirm, I was pretty sure that he was staring at my ass as soon as I turned away from him. For good measure I even made sure to lie down with my head in his lap, murmuring something about how he’d taken up the best spot so he really left me no other choice.

The first few minutes he didn’t move an inch, resembling a statue. I knew that he could feel my boobs pressed against his thigh and I made sure to shift a couple of times to make sure before placing one of my hands on his thigh. Eventually he relaxed and even went as far as to rest one of his hands on top of my hand, slowly moving his fingers through the tangles in my still wet hair. When he accidently pulled at a few strands I let out a content sigh while simultaneously digging my nails into his thigh out of habit. I pretended to not hear him groan lightly and instead gave him the most insincere apology of my life, thoughts now definitely elsewhere.

I was royally screwed. Or actually I wasn’t, and that was becoming a big problem.

-

I’d made it my personal mission to get a reaction out of him as much as I could. Mat was the same, I hadn’t seen him wearing a shirt in days. It was like this competition to see who could make the other one snap first. Currently I was making breakfast in nothing but a shirt and my panties. Granted, the shirt went to my mid-thighs because I’d stolen it from Mat a couple of months ago but still.

One of my upbeat playlists was playing over the speaker system and I was dancing around in front of the stove, careful to not let the our breakfast burn.

“What a sight to wake up to”, I heard Mat’s voice behind me and his hoarse morning voice did things to me I would never admit out loud. I gave him a cheeky grin over my shoulder and wiggled my butt for good measure as my favorite part of the song came on.

“Can you set the table? Breakfast is almost ready”, I asked and he nodded before moving to grab everything. We’d gotten our morning routine down to a t by now and I couldn’t help the warmth that spread in my chest at seeing him do something so domestic. Our friendship had certainly evolved since practically moving in here together. It would actually be weird to not have him around constantly once all of this was over.

The day continued like most of the days before, us lounging on the couch after working out together for a while. It was something we’d made a habit a while ago. His trainer knew that I was with him so he’d give Mat tandem exercises from time to time or he’d ask me to take videos so he could make sure that Mat’s form was okay. I certainly didn’t mind the view.

Mat was always hot of course but there was something to be said about the way he looked after a workout, all flushed and just downright delicious. It was definitely a great motivation to join him in the gym.

This time I had managed to snatch the corner seat and I was sprawled out on the couch, Mat’s head resting on my stomach. While I’d managed to put on some shorts he was of course still shirtless and I’d given in to temptation long ago, my fingers now slowly running across his back. He had one of his arms thrown across my stomach, hand resting on my hip and drawing slow circles on the little patch of skin that had been exposed when my shirt had ridden up. While cuddling wasn’t unusual between the two of us, this was certainly new territory, the show we’d been watching kind of forgotten by now.

“Use your nails”, Mat pleaded and his voice was so raw that I would’ve done anything he asked of me at this point. He let out a groan when I softly raked my nails across his back and I was glad that he couldn’t see my face right now. There was a spot on the left side of his back that would cause him to shudder slightly, goosebumps spreading quickly. I found myself watching him in awe, fascinated by the reaction I could get out of him by such a simple act.

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what kind of damage I could do if I really worked for it.

-

It finally happened a couple of nights later after yet another day filled with sexual tension so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

Mat helped me clean up after dinner, music playing to help speed things up. I was in charge of taking care of the leftovers while he cleaned up everything else. Obviously I was done before him and since he refused to let me help him I hopped on top of the kitchen counter, making casual conversation while watching him put stuff in the dishwasher.

“This is my jam!”, he exclaimed, quickly wiping his hands clean before motioning for me to come dance with him. I shook my head while laughing, which only led to him grabbing me and lifting me off the counter so I would join him.

His moves were ridiculous, arms kind of just flapping around. I knew that he could dance if he wanted to, we’d been to our fair share of clubs together but right now he definitely wasn’t trying. He held his hand out for me and with a laugh I accepted, letting him spin me around as he wished. The third time while he was spinning me back towards him he pulled a little to hard though and whether it was on accident or not I ended up almost smacking into him, only stopping myself by placing my other hand on his chest.

Both of us were a little out of breath by now and any laughter died down as he wrapped both of his arms around me, pulling me even closer. I looked up at him, gripping onto his shoulder with the other hand. Mat looked down at me with an unreadable expression. We both stared at each other for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what the other one was thinking at the moment. How had things gone from him twerking to Lizzo to this?

He gulped heavily before bringing one of his hands up to cup my face, ripping me out of my trance. His gaze was flickering between my lips and my eyes and he leaned in a little closer, yet still waiting for me to take the final step. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind I moved my hand to his neck, finally pulling him down to where I wanted him.

When our lips met it was as if everything was falling into place. The kiss started out slow, both of us still kind of figuring out what the hell was going on without scaring the other off. As soon as he realized that I wasn’t going to push him off of me he kissed me back with the determination that he showed in every other aspect of his life. His hands started wandering, first sliding down lower on my back before he moved them to my side, tightly gipping my hips.

I let out a light moan and he used the chance to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. He tasted like home and I willingly let him walk me backwards until I could feel the kitchen counter behind me, grateful for the leverage it would give me. He surprised me by lifting me back up on it and then pushing himself between my legs, gripping my thighs.

Eventually I did have to come up for air but Mat apparently didn’t concur to the basic laws of biology because he moved straight to my neck, sucking and biting gently until I was sure that goosebumps covered every square inch of my body. I knew I should stop and think about what was going on right now but I really didn’t want to, so instead I just dove right back into another toe curling kiss. Kissing him had quickly become one of my favorite things and I wanted, no I needed more.

“Mat, wait…”, I murmured against his mouth and he immediately took a step back, looking up at me with an expectant look. I could tell that he thought he’d done something wrong, when in reality it was the exact opposite.

“I want you but I don’t know if the kitchen counter is the right place for that.”

As soon as my words registered with him he groaned, burying his face in my neck.

“Then let’s get you somewhere comfortable… for now”, he teased and the wink he gave me told me that we’d definitely continue this in here another time. I let him lift me down, following behind him as he pulled me towards his bedroom with an urgency that I had only seen in games so far. He was pretty laid-back usually but I could tell that I’d riled him up over the past few days or weeks really.

It seemed like Mat couldn’t hold out until he got me onto his bed though, instead pushing me against the door and leaning down to kiss me again, pushing one of his thighs in between my legs. He fumbled around for a while before finally hitting the right light switch, making the room glow in soft yellow lighting.

His lips were addicting and even when he moved back I didn’t let him, chasing after him for another kiss. Using one of his hands to brace himself the other was slowly pushing up the fabric of my shirt. That wasn’t enough for me so I quickly moved to pull it off. I wasn’t wearing a bra and he cursed as soon as he saw my exposed chest, taking his time to look me up and down.

“So beautiful”, he murmured in awe before moving in again, one of his hands cupping my breast. I let out a moan when he started playing with my nipple which only seemed to spur him on further. I was so turned on already and he hadn’t even done much yet.

Determined to change up the power dynamics I pushed at his chest and he took a step back with a confused look, probably wondering if he’d done something wrong. Confusion turned into amazement as he watched me kiss down his chest before finally sinking down to my knees in front of him.

I took my time kissing his abs and mouthing along the ‘V’ that disappeared into his pants. I could see him straining against his shorts, impressed by what I could make out through the fabric. When I licked along his waistline he let out a beautiful groan and I decided I’d had teased him enough, finally hooking my fingers into his shorts and pulling them down along with his boxers. Him being shirtless already certainly made it easier to get him naked.

I watched his dick spring free, bouncing against his abs and looking absolutely delicious. He was impressively long but it was the girth that truly wowed me, finally making me understand all of the girls that came back time after time.

I gripped his thigh with one hand and reached for his dick with the other, making him curse. When I gave the head a little kitten lick he threaded his hands into my hair, practically pushing me down on him so I’d give him more. I didn’t object, wrapping my mouth around him and taking as much of him as I could, my hand taking care of the rest. The filthy sounds he was letting out above me only making me more enthusiastic and I was pretty sure that he’d have little crescent marks on his thighs for the next few days from how I was digging my nails into his thigh. He didn’t seem to mind though, only moaning my name.

“Fuck, you look so good like that”, Mat murmured and I looked up to him watching me intently. I kept my gaze locked on his as I moved back to let him go, my hand continuing to stroke him but my mouth dropping down to suck at his balls. The moan he let out would have made any porn star jealous.

It didn’t take long for him to pull me off of him in a way that told me that he didn’t actually want to, both of us panting as if we’d just ran a marathon.

“You need to stop or I’m going to cum”, he let out, his hoarse voice turning me on so much that I was pretty sure I’d be dripping down my legs if it weren’t for the fact that I was still wearing some clothes.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”, I teased, grinning up at him, not being able to resist licking up the entire length of his shaft once more. He practically pulled me up to my feet after that, moving in for another searing kiss.

“I’ve wanted you for so long and there’s no way I’m gonna finish before we even started.” He started to push me back towards his bed, changing his mind halfway there as he bent down to pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. For the first time I was able to feel him press against me, the thin fabric of my shorts not really doing much and holy shit did he feel good. He sat down on the edge of his bed, me now straddling his lap and I couldn’t help but roll my hips against him, desperate for any friction at this point.

The both of us let out a simultaneous moan at that and Mat buried his face in my neck, slowly sucking along my collarbone. He gripped my waist, his big hands nearly encircling it entirely.

“You’re wearing too many clothes still”, he said with his lips moving against my skin, making me shudder yet again. I’d long lost count a long time ago.

“Then do something about it”, I responded, not really willing to move at this point. He quickly stood up with me still perched on top of him before turning the both of us around, dropping me down onto the middle of the mattress. Him throwing me around like I weighed nothing really did something to me and I looked up at him through hooded eyes, waiting for him to make the next move.

He didn’t disappoint, leaning down to trail kisses from my neck, mouthing along my boobs before finally moving to pull my shorts and panties off. He took his time, making sure to appreciate every new inch of skin that he’d just exposed on the way back up and the closer he got to my core the more I was squirming underneath him. I had been waiting for this for so long that I wasn’t sure if I could make it through another minute without him inside me.

“Mat please, I really need you”, I whined and I could see him smirk up at me from where he’d situated himself between my legs.

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel so good baby.” Hearing him call me ‘baby’ only made things worse but he finally put me out of my misery when he ran one of his large beautiful fingers through my folds.

“Holy shit you’re so wet for me already”, he cursed and I was about to respond when he literally took my breath away by licking up my slit. I couldn’t help but arch off the bed, already so keyed up and he quickly threw one arm across me stomach, forcing me to stay still. He started out slow and I knew that he was only trying to egg me on further but his resolve didn’t last long and he soon dove in with a determination that had sounds coming out of my mouth that I’d never made before in my entire life.

He moved my legs to rest on his shoulders so he could have better access and because I really needed something to hold on to for dear life, I gripped his hair. He’d said a couple of times that it had gotten too long during this quarantine but I certainly wasn’t complaining now, using it as leverage. I could see him grind against the comforter, desperate for any kind of friction himself and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

He moved back a little and I was about to complain when he slowly pushed a finger inside of me, any words dying in my throat at the feeling. He lowered his mouth again, sucking hard on my clit and I moaned so loud that I was glad that we were alone in the house.

“More, Mat please”, I whispered and I almost couldn’t believe that he already had me begging. He groaned and the vibrations in combination of him pushing a second finger inside of me were almost too much. I was close and I knew that he could tell from the way my thighs were starting to shake, curling his fingers inside me until he finally found the spot that made me cum so hard with a scream that I could see stars. He brought me through it, still pushing in and out slowly when I finally returned back to earth, grinning up at me proudly after wiping his mouth on the inside of my thigh.

“That was so fucking hot”, he said and I laughed, throwing my arm over my eyes in embarrassment. I’d had my fair share of hookups as well but nobody had managed to make me feel this good. I could feel him move up my body, reaching for my arm so he could look me in the eyes again before leaning down for a kiss. I could taste myself on his lips and while kissing him was still amazing, it wasn’t enough anymore. Mat seemed to catch my drift because he rolled off of me, only to reach for his nightstand, feeling around for a bit before triumphantly holding up a foil packet.

Taking advantage of him on his back I moved to straddle his thighs, taking his cock in my hands once again. He bucked his hips involuntarily and I could tell that he needed this as much as I did at this point. I took the foil package from him, ripping it open with my teeth before rolling the condom down his shaft. He gripped my hips, helping me scoot up until I was positioned above him, holding him so I could slip the tip inside.

Both of us let out simultaneous groans when I finally sunk down on him, the stretch painful in the most delicious way. He gave me a couple of seconds to adjust but I wasn’t really willing to wait any longer, rolling my hips against him.

“Your pussy feels so good around me”, he panted as he helped guide me along with his hands while looking me deep in the eyes. His pupils were so blown at this point, his cheeks were flushed and he��d never looked better. I was a moaning mess above him and I wanted to remember the way his cock was dragging against my walls for the rest of my life. One of his hands still rested on my hip while his other grabbed my boob, twisting the nipple and making me moan even louder.

At one point he moved to sit up, our chests now pressed together. The new angle had my clit rub against his pelvic bone and I knew that I’d come again like this with no extra help needed. Mat moved to kiss my neck, sucking and biting so harshly that I was sure that there’d be marks there the next day, not that anybody besides us would be able to see them.

His groans had become more erratic as well and I knew that he probably wasn’t far behind me, my name constantly on his lips. One last drag against him had me arch into him with yet another earth-shattering orgasm, Mat doing his best to fuck me through it before turning us around so he was on top of me, using his hands to hold himself above me so he wouldn’t crush me.

He grabbed one of my legs and pushed it up to rest on his hip, thrusting into me with a force that had the headboard slam into the wall repeatedly. He felt so good that with every thrust I let out a little moan, still sensitive from my orgasm, which only seemed to spur Mat on even more. I was digging my nails into his back to the point where I was sure that there would be red streaks after but he didn’t seem to care at all, too lost in the moment. It didn’t take long before he threw his head back and I could feel him pulse inside me as he came, the most beautiful groan coming from his lips as he finally stilled inside me.

He crashed down on top of me, burying his face in my neck, both of us out of breath by now and covered in sweat. He was silent for a while until he caught me off guard when he started laughing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking.. we could’ve been doing that for weeks, I certainly wanted to.”

“I did too but I guess we’re both stupid.”

Now we were both laughing and Mat moved off of me so he could pull out, gripping the condom so it wouldn’t slip off. He threw it in the trash can in the corner before coming back, his hand outstretched for me to take.

“I guess we have some catching up to do then, starting right now with me and you in the shower”, he said with a wink and I couldn’t think of a time where I’d gotten out of bed faster. 

[shtufflookup]

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[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 29 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: So we are entering into the summer break months with the next chunk of chapters.  I’ve painstakingly tried to write down every major event and signing this summer and I’ve basically got it all under control, but as you can imagine some liberties will be taken in terms of scheduling Toronto/Vancouver time.  In any case, I hope you guys enjoy! 

I feel like there might be a lot of canon questions about what happens in this chapter, so if you do want clarification, send me an ask!  You guys know I love answering them.

The two and a half weeks Morgan was back in Vancouver were long.  They spoke everyday, FaceTiming most days, but the important part was that he was relaxing.  She could see it in his eyes and the way the bags were getting less heavy, and she could hear it in his voice whenever he spoke to her, telling her about his day or how well he’d done on the last round of golf.  After the stress of the season, she was sure he was appreciating doing nothing.  He went to work out everyday (“I have to, Bumblebee, because if I don’t I’d get a dad bod real quick.”) but besides that, he didn’t have much going on with hockey.  It was good for him, Bee thought.  

They didn’t even talk about the playoffs.  She couldn’t bring herself to watch any Boston games to see how they were doing.  She hoped they lost every single one of them, if she was being honest.  On a particularly restless night, she was flipping through the channels and saw a game from the western conference on, but she couldn’t bring herself to watch even that, despite having no emotional attachment to any team whatsoever.  

Alannah’s bachelorette party had happened last weekend and Bee didn’t think she’d ever had such a good time.  Between Alannah’s friends and the girls from the team, there were about twenty girls in total, and the festivities began Saturday morning with a trip to the Four Seasons spa for some massages and pampering.  By the time they were done the daylong pampering session, the girls went back to their rooms at the Four Seasons and prettied themselves for a fancy dinner at STK.  Drinks followed, as they always did, and barhopping to some of the hottest places in the city where they danced until last call.  The next morning, everybody filed into Alannah’s executive suite and ordered room service for brunch.  After Aryne drove Bee home, she collapsed onto the bed, smiling from ear to ear.

Bee was keeping busy and having fun in the city despite missing Morgan.  Angie and Mason came over quite a bit, usually to have dinner or hang out, and she’d meet up for lunch with some of the girls who stayed in town even during the off-season, like Aryne and Ashley.  Work always kept her occupied during the day, and she was trying to make a habit of hanging out with her co-workers more, whether it was at lunch, running to get coffees, or for happy hour drinks.  It was at night, alone in their apartment, when Bee felt the weight of Morgan not being there.  When she had to make dinner for only herself.  When she crawled into the bed and didn’t feel his arms wrap around her.  When she saw something that reminded her of him during her morning commute and she’d text him, only to remember he was three hours behind and still sleeping.  

But that was no longer.  He was on his way home.  Well, his second home.

Bee was jittery after she got home from work, knowing that Morgan would text her any minute to tell her he had landed.  She was preparing a nice meal for him – the Cuban food they had learned to cook together at Dish – and she kept glancing over at her phone, looking to see if he’d sent anything.  His plane was supposed to be landing at 5:30.  He hadn’t texted yet.  

But then, without word or warning, the front door clicked to unlock.  In a heartbeat, she noticed Morgan make his way through the door, a grin plastered on his face.  She was going to kill him.  She was actually going to kill him.  Completely forgetting the food on the stove and in the oven, she ran over to him and jumped on him, making him stumble back slightly before he locked his arms around hers and began kissing her feverishly.  No ‘hello’, no ‘I miss you’, no ‘how was your flight’ – nothing.  There were no words.  Only the physical.  

Morgan eventually pushed Bee up against the back of the door as she tugged at the hem of his pants desperately, undoing the button and pushing down the zipper.  He did the same to her, only he just had to shove her leggings down so they pooled at her calves.  She stepped out of them and as soon as she did, he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and pinned her against the door.  After shoving her panties to the side and grabbing his member from his own boxers, he entered her in one quick thrust.  No patience.  No waiting.

“Oh shit,” Bee huffed out, the first words said in an otherwise quick, primal, raw tryst that she wasn’t expecting two minutes ago.  Two minutes ago she was looking at her phone to see if he had texted her; two minutes later he was in her, fucking her against the door of their apartment.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much,” he grunted, pumping in and out of her as he looked her in the eye.

“Missed you too baby,” she mewled out, tugging at his hair.  

“God, you feel so fuckin good,” he said.  He knew this wasn’t going to last long.  It wasn’t meant to.  They were both so desperate and had waited so long there was no way it could.  “You okay?”

Bee nodded her head, closing her eyes.  She dug her nails into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt.  “Always feels so good, baby.”

Morgan continued to pound into her, and soon enough he felt her walls clench around him as she clutched at him and dug her nails into his shoulders even harder.  With a few more thrusts he exploded into her, gasping into the crook of her neck.  He held her in his arms against the door, her legs still wrapped around him, as they calmed down from their highs, and he eventually set her down slowly, carefully, her legs threatening to give way at any given moment.  

“Holy fuck Morgan,” she breathed out, a slight giggle in her voice.  She looked down at her leggings pooled on the floor.  “That was quite a way to make an entrance.”

“I missed you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything, giving her another kiss.  “What smells so good?”

“I’m making Cuban food for you.”

“Mmm…” he said.  Another kiss.  “Can I take a quick shower?  It’s been a long day.”

“Of course,” she said.  “Don’t be long though!  It’s almost ready and I don’t want us eating a cold dinner.”

When Morgan came back from his shower, he was wearing only an old t-shirt and boxers, apparently not caring about his appearance.  Not that he needed to – they were going to be alone all night.  It was probably a surprise to him that she hadn’t put her leggings back on.  “Oh?” he said, watching her as she plated the meal.  He went up behind her and slapped her ass, garnering a yelp from her.  “No pants, Briony McTavish?”

“You want me to put them on?” she asked rhetorically, wiggling her butt slightly.

“No,” he deadpanned.  “Just surprised me is all.”

“Well, seems like we’re both full of surprises,” Bee giggled, putting the pan down back on the stove.  

“I’ve got one more,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.  He placed a kiss on her shoulder before moving up to her ear.  “Pack your bags.”

Bee hesitated.  “Pack my bags?”

“Mhm.  I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony.”

She spun around to face him.  “Morgan Rielly.”

“Briony McTavish, it’s a surprise,” he stressed, a grin on his face.  “What good is a surprise if I tell you?”

“Morgan, I work tomorrow,” she said.  “I can’t just take the day off.”

Morgan leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose.  “I know, silly.  I’m gonna pick you up from work and we’re gonna go for the long weekend.”

“Go where?”

“Stop asking or else I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder and body slam you onto the bed,” he warned.  

“You say that like it’s a threat,” she wiggled her eyebrows.  Morgan snorted, shaking his head at her before kissing her quickly.  “Okay, fine.  What do I need?”

“Clothes.”

“Thank you captain obvious,” she rolled her eyes.

“And bathing suits.”

“Bathing suits?” she asked.  He nodded his head before kissing her again.  “I…I only have the one I got for Vancouver.”

“So go out during your lunch tomorrow and buy some more.  I’ll give you my card,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Morgan.”

“Get whatever you want.  Anything that shows off these curves,” he said, grabbing handfuls of her ass and squeezing them in his hands.  “Don’t care about colour.  Just wanna see these curves,” he bit down on the skin of her neck again, dragging his lips up to her ear.  He let his hands run down the curve of her ass, taking her panties down along with them.  Then, in one swift movement, he picked her up again, placing her on the counter.

“Morgan,” she breathed out, watching as he kneeled and pulled her panties off, throwing them across the kitchen.

“Ready for round two?  We gotta make up for lost time.”

Maybe they would be eating a cold dinner.

***

“Oooooh, Morgan,” Bee cooed as she walked in the door, leaving her suitcase behind her as she took in the sight before her.  

True to his word, Morgan had picked her up at 5pm sharp that day.  He’d driven them two hours north to surprise her with a weekend at a cottage on Lake Muskoka.  It was small and cozy – nothing grand like the multi-million dollar compounds that populated the lake nowadays – and it was perfect.  It was what a cottage should be, Bee thought.  And as she walked further inside, she gasped.  In the windows of the giant A-frame, she saw the lake.  The sun was just setting, making the sky a very light pink.  “Oooooh, Morgan,” she repeated, her eyes wide at the sight.

“Looks great, eh?” Morgan asked, hauling in his bags.  

“Look how beautiful it is outside!” Bee exclaimed, a giant smile on her face.  “I can’t believe we made it for the sunset!  God, you must have been speeding up that highway, Morgan.”

He giggled, giving her a kiss on her temple.  “Go put on your sweats.  I’ll go light some citronella torches and we’ll go out on the dock to watch the sunset.”

Bee scurried into the bedroom, grabbing the small carry-on luggage she was using for the weekend and throwing it on the bed before opening it.  Morgan watched her for a few seconds, letting out another giggle before making his way outside and towards the dock.  As he lit the torches and moved around the dock furniture so that only one muskoka chair was facing the lake and the sunset, he heard the screen door from the house bang shut.  He looked up to see Bee making her way to the dock, a wine bottle and two glasses in her hands.  

“Morgan, this is stunning,” she said as she approached the dock, not bothering to look at him but looking out onto Lake Muskoka instead.  “What gave you the idea to come here?”

“We just needed to get away from the city for a bit.  You needed to get away from the city a bit,” he said.  “You trying to get me drunk?” he asked, nodding his head towards the wine bottle in her hand.  

She smirked.  “Maybe I just want to enjoy a nice glass of wine on a dock overlooking Lake Muskoka with my boyfriend,” she said.  “It’s not like I’ve ever been here before.”

“Well get over here then,” he said, sitting in the seat and patting his lap.  

Bee did as she was told, snuggling into him in the large muskoka chair as she opened the bottle of wine and poured them each a glass.  Morgan held his in one hand and wrapped his other arm around Bee’s waist.  She snuggled into his chest, looking out onto the lake.  Much like the boat ride to watch the sunrise over the Sunshine Coast, Morgan and Bee talked about anything and everything as they sat with their glasses of wine, sipping on them and kissing each other intermittently as the sky turned more vibrant shades of pink, orange, and red.  

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Bee whispered, kissing Morgan lightly just as the sun was about to disappear behind the trees.  “You know I appreciate everything that you do for me, right?”

“I know baby,” he cooed, kissing her again.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

He tried to make it seem like he wasn’t taking a deep breath.  “These trips…Vancouver, and here, and wherever we go in the future…and your clothes and bags.  Can I still buy you nice things without making you feel uncomfortable?”

Bee hesitated.  It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with the question.  She was more uncomfortable with what she was willing to answer with.  By now, she knew the subtleties of Morgan’s speech.  She set her wine glass down on the dock before facing him again.  “Do you remember what you said to me the night you came home from Boston?”

“What did I say?”

“You said you wanted to take care of me.  Give me so much that I can quit my job,” Bee reiterated his words.  

Morgan paused for a moment.  It was clear to Bee he was recollecting the memory, however vague – or however clear – it was.  “I remember,” he finally admitted.

“You know…” she hesitated.  “You know I can’t do that right?”

“I know you can’t.  Because you want to want to feel like you’re always contributing too,” Morgan said automatically.  

Bee nodded her head.  “Because I’m not giving up everything I’ve ever worked for.”

“I know baby.  I know,” Morgan nodded his head.  “That was just my subconscious talking because I let you down.  And I don’t ever want to let you down.”

“But you didn’t let me down,” Bee said.

“We didn’t win,” he said, so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him.  

“I don’t care that you didn’t win,” Bee stressed, pain in her voice.  “Morgan, you have to know that by now.”

Morgan let out a deep breath.  “I guess I let myself down and by extension I thought I let you down.  I just… I’m not asking you to quit your job or whatever.  I’d never ask that of you, ever.  I know I sound like a broken record by now but you deserve nice things and I don’t want you to keep thinking that you don’t deserve it or shouldn’t have it.  I just want to be the one able to give you the things you want and need in life without you being uncomfortable about it.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile, cupping Morgan’s face in her hand.  She kissed him gently.  “You already do.  You give me everything I’ve ever wanted and needed in life.”

“I do?”

She couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of him questioning what he had given her since they met, since even before the beginning of their relationship.  “Of course you do.  You give me the most love I’ve ever known,” she said, kissing him gently, “you give me affection,” another kiss, “you give me the feeling that I can do anything and be anyone,” another kiss.  “I know it’s hard to see because they’re not material things but that stuff matters more to me than anything else.  And all the material stuff is nice, don’t get me wrong.  But I came from nothing and I can go back to nothing, Morgan.  So long as you’re with me.”

He gave her a long, lingering kiss, his fingertips grazing the skin at the small of her back.  “I don’t want you to worry about anything ever again in your life.  Will you please let me at least do that for you?” he asked.  

She could tell how much this meant to him.  How important it was for him.  “Okay,” she said gently.  “Okay.”

Morgan leaned up to kiss her again, except this time, he didn’t stop.  Neither stopped.  They continued kissing, Morgan feeling up Bee and Bee tugging on Morgan’s hair, until she kissed along his jawline, making her way towards his ear, and said, “Make love to me Morgan.”

In one swift movement, Morgan picked her up and began carrying her back to the cottage, ready to do just that.  

***

“C’mon baby, give me a pose!” Morgan yelled in the worst Austin Powers impression Bee had ever heard.  She couldn’t help but snort at his antics as they were out on Lake Muskoka on the boat that had come with the cottage for the weekend.  They had traveled a bit throughout the lake to see all the different cottages that lined the water, and she had wanted to stop to take some pictures in her new bathing suit.

“Morgan!” she giggled, sitting on the edge of the boat while he posed dramatically with her phone in his hand, pretending to be a professional photographer.  She had taken off her life jacket and didn’t want it to be off for too long.  

“Yes!  Beautiful!  Feeling it!  It’s all in the smiles, baby!” he continued in the ridiculous accent.  “Okay, you’re an animal!  Yes!  You’re a toooiiiiiigaarrr!  You’re Tony the Tiger!”

“Morgan, please!” she cackled.

“Smashing, baby!  You got your mojo working overtime darling.”

“Morgan!”

“And I’m spent,” he threw his hands up dramatically.  

“Can you stop being Austin Powers and take a nice picture of your girlfriend?” she asked.  

“I am taking beautiful pictures of my girlfriend,” he countered, holding up the phone again.  “You smiling and laughing is the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“Stop being corny,” she joked.  “I’m trying to build my Instagram model career and these pictures are going to make or break it!”

“Instagram model, huh?” Morgan smirked.  “You’re hotter than all those girls put together.”

“Sure, Morgan.”

“I’m being serious!  Especially in that bathing suit,” he said, licking his lips.

“Well, I do listen to what you say when you put in special requests,” Bee winked.  

***

“Do you feel comfortable?” Morgan asked, looking over at Bee in the driver’s seat of the Porsche as they were pulled off on the side of an empty road.  She nodded her head.  “Is your foot touching the pedals comfortably?” he asked again.  Another nod.  “Okay, so you’re gonna push down the brake and then put the gear into drive,” he said gently.  Bee did as she was told.  “Now, you have to signal that you’re going to re-join the traffic, so put your turn signal on and approach the road slowly.”

Bee put the turn signal on, and her foot released the brake.  She put a bit too much pressure on the gas pedal and they jerked forward.  “Sloooowly.  Slowly baby,” Morgan cautioned, trying to mimic what she was supposed to do with her foot with his hand.  “Gentle.  If you put too much pressure we’re gonna go through the window.”

“Sorry,” she said in a worried tone.  

“It’s okay.  It’s okay,” he assured her.  “Just go gentle.  I made the same mistakes too.”

“You did?”

“Of course,” he nodded his head.  “I was a fucking disaster.  But I practiced and I learned.  And so will you.  Try again.”

She put her foot on the gas pedal, much gentler this time, and the car began moving forward.  Her eyes were wide as they moved down the road.  “Theeeeere we go,” Morgan smiled beside her.  “You’re driving, Briony!”

“Should I go faster?” she asked.

“Go whatever pace you want,” he said, checking the side mirror to make sure there weren’t any cars.  “We’re the only ones on this road.  You can go faster when you feel comfortable.”

Bee looked in her rear-view mirror.  She gulped a bit before increasing her speed slightly.  “I’m going thirty kilometres right now,” she said, glancing at the speedometer.  

“That’s good!  That’s the speed you’ll go if you’re ever on the 401,” Morgan joked.  He saw she still had a death grip on the steering wheel, so much so that her knuckles were white.  “You can loosen your grip baby.”

“I’m comfortable like this,” she said, not taking her eyes off the road.  

“Okay,” he said, smiling slightly.  “You’re doing great.”

“I am?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head.  “Pretty soon you’ll be parallel parking.”

***

“Look over your shoulder, Bee,” Morgan called out as he stayed a few steps behind her, appreciating the new romper she was wearing and how it made her butt look so good as they walked through the streets of Port Carling.  They decided to take a stop in the quintessential Muskoka town and grab some ice cream cones before heading back home.

“Huh?” she asked, looking back at him.  She saw him with his phone in his hand, snapping pictures, even going so far as to crouch down to get a better angle.  “Oh my God, are you being serious right now?”

“C’mon baby,” he smiled, continuing to snap shots of her.  She had admitted to him the series of pictures he took on the boat acting like Austin Powers were actually good, mostly because she was laughing and not posing in at least half of them, and he’d taken it to heart.  He wouldn’t stop taking pictures of her all weekend.  

“Morgan…” she giggled, shaking her head.  “Is this just a ploy so you can take pictures of my ass?”

“You got me,” he said.  “Just pose, beautiful.  Instagram modelling requires pictures at every moment of the day, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t help but giggle as she tried to pose naturally, though soon enough, she couldn’t help but break out into dumb poses, sticking her butt out and dramatically licking her ice cream cone.  Morgan took as many as he could before bursting out into a fit of giggles himself, getting up from his crouched position and walking over to her.  

“I think you’ll knock Instagram modelling out of the park,” he said as he approached her.  “Especially in this one.”

She looked down at his phone to see a picture of her with an ice cream moustache as she stuck her tongue out and kicked up her foot behind her.  She let out a scream over how ridiculous she looked.  “Delete that!” she screamed, trying to grab the phone from him.  

“Never!”

***

Morgan should have known better.  When Bee said “Why don’t you let me choose where you get to take me,” he should have insisted it be Gucci.

“It’s the cats’ playtime, so we have some potential new parents and some volunteers in the room right now,” Mrs. Sommers, a very lovely and friendly employee of the Toronto Humane Society said, leading him and Bee down the hallway towards what he could only assume was a room full of cats waiting to be adopted.  “Our volunteers and caretakers know all about the cats, so you can just ask one of them any information.”

“There must be a lot of them,” Bee commented.  “I’ve been researching on your website.  There seemed to be so many cats this season.”

“Well, yes.  There always is,” she said.  “We had our annual kitten drive last weekend and this past weekend.  The kittens always go fast.  It’s the more mature cats that we always have trouble with adopting out.”

“That’s so sad,” Morgan said.  He didn’t want to ask what happened to them if they couldn’t be adopted.  

“Well, here we are,” Mrs. Sommers smiled, opening a door and ushering them in quickly to a room where, Morgan guessed, at least twenty-five cats were roaming about.  He’d never been in a room with so many cats before.  He looked towards Bee and she had an excited look on her face as she tried to take in everything before her.  There were at least five or six other couples in the room as well, playing with the cats or petting them as they relaxed on their jungle gyms.  

Bee looked up at Morgan.  “I’m gonna look around, okay?”

Morgan nodded his head.  “You do you.”

Bee wandered throughout the room, Mrs. Sommers by her side as she crouched down to pet the cats she saw.  Mrs. Sommers was ready with names (most of them made Bee laugh – Garth, Queen, Snicklefritz) and information at any given moment, and seemed to know everything about every cat in the room.  Bee listened attentively at some of the more unfortunate cases, about this cat having diabetes (it was wholly and easily treatable, apparently) or that cat coming in with an infection.  The more Mrs. Sommers spoke, the more Bee’s heart broke, wishing she could adopt every cat in the room.

Then Bee noticed a cat curled in the corner, alone and away from all the other cats, looking like he was just about to fall asleep.  He had a beautiful coat, brown and white and slightly beige, with white paws making it look like he was wearing socks.  “Who’s this little guy?”

“Oh, this is our little baby Chub,” Mrs. Sommers smiled.  “He’s a Snowshoe.  We were very, very surprised to see he was a Snowshoe when we brought him back.  He’s about seven months old.  Just neutered which is why he’s a bit sleepy.”

“Where did he come from?”

“We found him and his brothers and sisters in a house downtown.  There were many cats living there.  Too many.  There were multiple people living there and nobody, nobody was taking care of the cats,” Mrs. Sommers explained, the anger evident in her voice.  It was clear she wasn’t saying exactly what she wanted to say.  “All his brothers and sisters have already been adopted out.  Same with the twelve or so other cats we found at the property.”

“Why hasn’t Chub?” Bee asked worriedly.

“Well, if you’ll look…” Mrs. Sommers guided her to approach him slowly.  As Bee did, Chub turned his face towards her, and she could see.  One big beautiful blue eye looking at her, the other missing, his socket sewn completely shut with nothing left but a very faint line.  “Chub lost his left eye.  It was infected when we found him and it was too late for saving.  Poor boy was in a lot of pain.  Our vet had to perform surgery when he was well enough, and now…well, he’s a one eyed-cat.  And people don’t seem to want one-eyed cats.”

Bee was heartbroken.  As she stretched out her hand, Chub rubbed against it, and Bee began to scratch behind his ears.  When she did that, he got up and made his way over to her, meowing contently.  “He’s such a sweet boy,” she cooed.

“Oh yes, yes he is,” Mrs. Sommers smiled.  “He has no residual damage from the loss either.  Some depth perception problems, as to be expected, but other than that he’s a very healthy boy.  Even the scar healed perfectly.  He’s good with other animals, too.  Whoever adopts him will need to keep him indoors, but there is no reason why he shouldn’t live the standard age for an indoor cat…you know, thirteen to seventeen years.”

“Mrs. Sommers!  Apologies but can we steal you for a second?” another employee called from the door, interrupting their conversation.  Bee didn’t take her eyes off of Chub as he kept meowing and began rubbing his face and body onto her knees.

“I’ll be right back Ms. McTavish, you feel free to hold and snuggle any cat here,” she said, leaving the room.  

“Come here, pretty boy,” Bee cooed, picking up Chub and cradling him against her chest.  He meowed contently again and began smelling her face, his wet nose tickling her.  “You’re a sweet little boy, aren’t you?” she spoke to him, and he began purring.  She felt the vibrations against her hand.  “You’re such a sweet little boy, Chub.  Do you want to come home with me?  I have a nice big place where we can play and you can sleep all day and it will be so comfy for you.”  Chub rested his head on her chest, purring loudly as his eye drooped down to fall asleep again.  She could have cried right there.  

As she turned around, she saw Morgan staring at her with a smile on his face, his hands stuffed into his pockets.  “We’re taking the one-eyed cat, aren’t we,” he said as more of a statement than a question.  

“Morgan, we have to,” Bee begged as Chub stayed cradled in her arms.  “Look at him.  He’s already sleeping in my arms, Mo.  He’s home.”

“Are we going to have to do anything about the eye?”

Bee shook her head.  “She said he’s healthy.  It healed perfectly.  He’s going to have depth perception problems but that’s it.  He can live as long as any other indoor cat.”

“When Mrs. Sommers comes back we’ll let her know,” Morgan nodded his head.  “He’s a cutie pie, Bee.  Seems like this was destined right from the start.”

“Morgan, can we adopt them all?”

Morgan snorted, looking down at his girlfriend.  “Briony McTavish, don’t give me that face.  You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Oh!  Would you look at that!” Mrs. Sommers exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear as she noticed Chub sleeping in Bee’s arms.  “How cute is that?”

“We’re taking Chub,” Bee smiled, petting his paw gently with her thumb.  

Mrs. Sommers nodded her head.  “Follow me, dears.  We’ll go into the office to finalize the adoption and fill out some paperwork.”

Morgan didn’t grasp how much Bee had wanted this until he saw and heard how prepared she was.  She had an answer for literally every question they asked her, down to who their veterinarian would be (Alannah’s sister Rachael, naturally, because why would Bee adopt a cat without a vet?).  She told them their schedules, how much she’d play with the cat, where the litter box would be in the apartment, what kind of food she’d feed the cat and how much.  Everything was researched and well thought out.  Morgan just sat there nodding his head.  And by the end of it, they’d received their first box of litter, a small bag of food to start them off, a string toy Chub apparently really liked, and Chub inside a basic pet taxi, meowing loudly at his less-than-ideal new surroundings.

Morgan loaded everything into the car and Bee made herself comfortable with the pet taxi on her lap in the passenger’s seat.  When he started the car, he heard Bee, still cooing and trying to calm down a frightened Chub.  “What’s his name gonna be?  We can’t keep it as Chub.”

Without even looking at him, she revealed, “It’s gonna be Bruce.”

Morgan looked at her.  “Are you really going to name the cat after Bruce Springsteen?”

“Did you expect anything less from me?” she asked rhetorically, giving him a smirk.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, reversing the car out of the spot.  “No, I guess I didn’t.”

***

@brionymctavish: Welcome to the family, Bruce 💙 #adoptdontshop

@jazzykadri: OMG! My new BFF! ❤️❤️❤️ can’t wait to meet you Brucey!

@lucygardiner_: BRUCE!  What a cutie pie!  Welcome to the family Bruce!

@enzosauce: I’m coming over

@masonbennett: when are you guys adopting the e street band?!

@angiefavs: sarah jessica barker is gonna get a run for her money

@frederikandersen31: oh boy

@marner_93: can I come over to visit the kitty? @morganrielly                        @morganrielly: no.

@stephlachancee: OMG he is soooooo cute!  @morganrielly can I come over to visit the kitty?                        @morganrielly: yes.

@kasperikapanen1: missed the opportunity to call him captain jack sparrow but bruce is cool I guess

@williamnylander: wow.  so soft.                        @brionymctavish: soft boy.

@auston_matthews: you named your cat after the fat kid who ate the chocolate cake in Matilda?!                        @brionymctavish: IT’S AFTER BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

__________________________________________________________________

[daydreamingabouthockey]

Somewhere in Stockholm Chapter 2

Word count:1,775

Masterlist.

Chapter 1

Note: chapter 2 of Somewhere in Stockholm sorry this took awhile. I’m refreshed I took a holiday to Stockholm so I have some new inspiration. Ft Alex Nylander (sorry about the weird formatting I’m trying to fix it atm)

Maggie stood outside a yellow painted apartment block on a deserted quiet street. She stared at the buzzers until she found the one labelled Altelius . A small buzzer sounded, She pushed the door and found herself in a small but grand hallway with a large chandelier and a grand staircase. Damn this was fancy and this was his second home where he only came in the off season?

She hauled her suitcase up the flights of stairs Stopping on the fourth floor and a white doors with the numbers ninety written on it, she knocked on the door and waited. It was opened by a young blonde boy, he had a half asleep expression on his face, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and was mid way through brushing his teeth. “Hi, i’m Maggie?” she said unsure.

“Sorry wrong flat” he said or at least that is what she thought he said before slamming the door in her face.Maggie stood there stunned for a moment unsure what to think apart from she must have been at the wrong place, but Will had definitely text her flat ninety. She knocked again. This time she could hear from inside the flat two boys arguing in Swedish. The door eventually opened again but this time, a different blonde answered the door and Maggie swore her heart skipped a beat. This guy was handsome, tall, Blue eyes a flow of long blonde hair and was naked from the waist up and from what she could see this guy was ripped. Suddenly she understood Morgan’s warning. Oh boy she was in trouble. “Hi I’m Maggie,” She said a little unsure. Her cheeks burning. “Ah Maggie, Mo’s erm friend, hi,I’m Willy ” he said pulling her in for a hug and Maggie had never felt more awkward. Why had he said friend like that? Also she was hugging a topless stranger in a hallway and damn how ripped what this dude? “Come in,” he said grinning, he grabbing her suitcase and pulling it in.“You don’t have to do that, its ok, it’s kind of heavy,” she said trying to pull it off him but in the process losing the tug of war, I mean duh, he was a pro athlete. “It’s okay, hey Alex come say hey,” he yelled out. The younger boy from earlier returned into the hallway still only wearing his sweatpants. What was up with these boys? Was wearing clothes optional or something? If so she was not going to complain. “Eh?” the younger boy Alex asked.“We have a guest young Nylander,”Will said hitting his brother over the head. Alex turned to stare at Maggie “Oh hi, sorry I erm slammed the door in your face,” he said and she got the feeling Alex Nylander didn’t like her very much. “Its okay,” she spluttered still distracted by the two blondes. She could feel her cheeks flushing. “We’ve had a couple of fans turn up to our flat recently, so now we’re a bit wary,hence the name change on the buzzer to Altelius instead of Nylander,”. “Oh wow, people really do that,” “Yeah, I had a grandma chase me down the road last week,” Will joked at least she thought he was. She really couldn’t tell.“So you can take my room it’s just through here,” Will said pointing to the door “Oh,”. “Something wrong?” He asked running his hands through his hair. Something she found very distracting. “I mean I know Morgan said your a bit of a charmer but I think you got me a bit wrong,I can’t share a bed, with you I don’t know you and” Maggie blabbered nervously . He stopped her and laughed “Chill Maggie, I’ll sleep on the sofa, I’m not trying to, wait what did Mo say about me?” He asked with a cheeky grin and a laugh. “Oh nothing,” she said suddenly turning red as a tomato. He gave her the full tour of the place, kitchen, living room, a swish bathroom which was all in true scandivanian style and looked like it had come straight out of an ikea catalogue. He showed her Alex’s room which looked chaotic. Clothes all overspilling from his suitcase and cans of red bull dotted around any available surface, papers haphazardly piled on the desk in the corner.When Maggie was finally led into William’s room she was surprised at the contrast of the two brother’s rooms. She surveyed the room around her, double bed with grey sheets, a bedside cabinet, the room was clean and sparse like no-one really lived in this room apart from a few personal items. A blue maple leafs duffle bag identical to the one, she had seen at Morgan’s place. Beside the bed was a photo of she assumed his family given they all looked identical, blonde hair blue eyed, mum, sisters, Alex and a bald man who he guessed must of been his dad. Apart from that the room didn’t seem very lived in. Maggie flopped down on the bed, picking up her phone to text her family to let them all know she was safe.

To: Mom

From: Maggie

Hey Mom just telling you know, I arrived in Stockholm. I’ll call you in a couple of days love you! M x

Then she quickly typed out a message to Morgan.

To: Mo Bro

From: Maggie

Made it safely to Willy’s of course I’ve embarrassed myself already. Also does erm Willy think clothes are something optional?

Her phone pinged back immediately.

To: Maggie

From: Mo Bro

Oh no what did you do? I forgot to warn you about that, he is very liberal with clothing must be a European thing. He walks around half naked at lot at the rink. You get used to it. X

She was pulled out of her daze by Will wandering into the room, who was thankfully now wearing a t-shirt. “Hey,” he said smiling widely “So i’m not sure if you had anything planned whilst you were here but me and Alex were going to and watch the Eurovision later, if you want to come, there doing this big event in Kungsträdgården Park” Willy asked sitting down on the bed. “Sure I’ve never seen the eurovision before,”

“Your in for a treat then,” he said and she could have sworn he winked at her. Was William Nylander flirting with her? She sat on the bed, she had only just met this guy. She had met a fair few hockey boys growing up and being friends with one and she had sworn off dating hockey players after learning the hard way with Leo Mustang the star player for the Giants in Vancouver. She had met him through Morgan and despite his warning she had dated him anyway something which backfired massively on her later when he brutally dumped her for a hotter skinner blonde girl at a party in front of all of his friends. The only saving grace was that Morgan had been there to pick her up and defend her. Like the true best friend he was. He hadn’t ever once told her I told you so even though she knew he was thinking it. She loved Morgan for that. An hour later Maggie had showered, power nap and was ready to go out on a new adventure. William effortlessly weaved through the winding streets of the buildings were coloured white, yellows and reds. Maggie looked around in joy. There was nothing like this at home. This place was beautiful. “I don’t understand the deal with this Eurovision,” she sighed putting another mouthful of strawberry ice cream in her mouth. They had stopped off at what Alex had described as the best ice cream in Stockholm. “I didn’t either at first when I moved here from Canada, it’s weird, countries singing weird songs and perform in the strangest outfits then everyone gets angry when neighbouring countries vote for each other, for us it’s a night we watch tv and get drunk, it’s just even more hyped up this year because it’s in our city,”

“Ah well it sounds like fun so, Mo said you live out in Sweden during the off season you live here all the time you are here?”

“Some of the time, I spend a lot of time at my parents, this is just mine and Alex’s place,”

“Oh wow it’s so nice,” she said, nodding. In Seattle, she shared a tiny apartment with her best friend Molly and her boyfriend, Brad. She had become excellent at being third wheel to them. She could only dream of owning her own place.“So how did you meet Morgan? I thought a pretty girl like you he’s been showing you off?”

“Oh I live in Seattle but me and Morgs go way back we met at school in Couver,”

“Ah makes sense,” she said blushing.

“What brings you to Sweden apart from you know meeting me?” He asked with a playful grin. She laughed and pushed Willy.

“I’m interrailing around Europe,”

“And Mo didn’t want to come?”

“Nah he’d rather sit on his butt, see Maggie, his dog, play golf and go fishing,”

“Wait he named his dog after you?”

“Yeah well, he refuses to admit it,” she said with a shrug.

“So when he’s talking about Maggie,” he said, his eyes suddenly lighting up like it makes sense. “He was talking about you and not the dog?”

“Yes,” she said bursting out into laughter.

“That makes a lot more sense I wondered why he told me me and Maggie got dressed up and went for dinner,” he shrugged. “Did you have a bath with him?”

“Ew no” Maggie said with a laugh “that one was the dog,that is weird, I would never shower with him,”wrinkling her nose as she laughed.

“You and Morgan aren’t?” He asked his tilting head.

“God no he’s my best friend,”

“Oh okay good, I mean not good cool,” he said blushing and running through his hands through his hair again and awkwardly laughing. The pair went silent for a moment until Alex suddenly said goodbye turning to walk away.

“Where is he going? Are we not..” she trailed pointing to Alex walking up the hill

“Oh Alex is going to meet some of his friends, I said we’d meet back later, but I was thinking you might be hungry?”

It was that moment when Maggie’s stomach had decided to loudly gurgle. “Well I think that settles it and I know just the place,” he said with a wide grin.

[mlovesstories]

You Know What You’re Doing Part 12 (Final)

Warnings: break-ins, obsessions with Hollywood stars, cussing

Word Count: 2100

AN- Last part, hope you like it! 

@spnbingo square- none 

Tag List

Ask Box

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Come on! You promised!” YN dragged her foster dad through the house to the backyard.

“Okay, okay!” She tossed Jensen a baseball mitt.

“Ready?” She grinned.

“Please don’t kill me. I know you have a strong arm,” he winced.

“Ugh. Fine then.” YN threw it to him with little speed. 

“I can handle more than that, you weirdo!  Okay, give me what you got. Let me back up.”

Once he was settled into his place, she threw it as hard as she could. He jumped out of the way.

“YN! You are SO grounded!” He jokingly stood back up.

“Sorry!” She laughed.

“Don’t do that. Ever again. I’ll die of a heart attack or a freaking head injury!”

They played toss for a while before Jensen saying his arm was tired.

“Lame. Such an old man,” YN giggled.

“Whatever, small fry,” Jensen picked her up and carried her over his shoulder into the house.

“Ah!” She screamed with laughter. When he put her down on the couch, he landed on the cushion next to her.

“That was fun. Thanks, kid.”

“Too bad you’re too old to keep going!” YN rolled over, gasping for air through her laughter.

“Hey!” Jensen grabbed the TV remote and a basketball game showed on the screen.

“Who’s playing?”

“Dallas and San Antonio.” Jensen looked at her to see if she had any interest.

“Sweet. Can we watch it?”

“Until the munchkins wake up from their nap, sure.”  

YN felt so much better about her relationship with Jensen as he left for Vancouver. Danneel even noticed a difference.

“I know you miss hiatus, but school is about to start, and you’ll be busy,” she smiled at her foster daughter.

“Yeah. Yay for school tomorrow…” YN sighed.

“You’ll be okay, YN. You can do it,” Danneel encouraged.

————

“Hey, YN,” a boy walked up to her while on their ten minute break between classes on the first day of school.

“Umm, hi.” She looked him up and down. “Who are you?”

“Ryan. So you are an Ackles, huh?”

“No…” She started backing away from him with a skeptical raised brow. “I need to go to the restroom, excuse me.” YN turned on her heel and sprinted to the closest restroom.

YN text to Danneel:

This guy is creeping me out. He was asking how I was an Ackles. Whatever that means. It was weird!

Danneel:

Maybe he is just trying to be a friend. Now get off your phone and go learn!

YN:

Fineeeee

———-

“Hey, Ackles!” Ryan flagged YN down in her fourth period class.

“Umm. Hi, Ryan.”

“We have a few seconds before class. So what is it like being an Ackles? I mean, your family is famous.”

“Ryan-“ she tried to interrupt him.

“Your mom is hot! And your dad is so cool-“

“Sit down, everyone!” The teacher shushed the class.

————

YN practically ran to Danneel’s car.

“Get me out of here.” YN opened the car door quickly and climbed inside next to Danneel.

“What, why?”

YN saw Ryan trying to flag her down.

“NOW!”

“Okay, okay,” Danneel pulled out of the parking lot.

On the ride home, YN explained how Ryan kept bothering her.

“He kept saying I was an Ackles, and you were hot, and-“ she took a breath. “It made me feel weird.”

“Okay, okay. Just relax. I’m sorry you felt threatened though. That must’ve been scary.”

“Yeah!” YN sighed. “Can we just go home now?”

“Yep,” Danneel ribbed her foster daughter’s arm soothingly.

———

The next day, Ryan chased after YN in the hallway.

“YN Ackles!”

She turned around.

“I AM NOT an Ackles! My name is YN LN. Stop calling me that, please,” she took a breath.

I want to be but I’m not….

“Sweetie-“ he reached to touch her face.

“Get your grimy hands off me now, or I swear you’ll be on the floor in two seconds.”

“Aww, come on,” Ryan tried to caress her cheek. She blocked his arm and spun him around so that his wrist was touching the small of his back. YN kicked the back of his right knee to make him land in a kneeling position. “Ah!”

“Stay. Away. From. Me.” She let him go, and he fell forward. Everyone in the hallway looked at him, but they kept moving.

————

“Did the school call you?” YN entered the car after the last bell rang.

“No,” Danneel answered suspiciously. “Why?”

“Ryan tried to touch me, so I put him to the ground.”

“What?! Why would he do that? I’m going to talk to the princi-“

“No. I took care of it. I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anymore.”  

“Okay. I’m very proud of you, sweetheart. Good job standing up for yourself,” Danneel smiled.

————-

“Go to bed, please,” Danneel walked into the living room at 12 midnight.

“I have to finish this extra credit that’s due on Thursday.”

“It’s Monday. You have time. Come on.” Danneel bookmarked YN’s place on her assignment and shut the book.

“Okay- AH!” She screamed. YN noticed a light scanning the room and a figure in the tree outside. He knocked on the window.

“Get in the kitchen. Now!” Danneel screamed.

“Hi, Danneel! I love you!” The person screamed through the wall.

YN called 911 from behind the living room wall. Danneel met YN in the kitchen soon after.

Before they knew it, the screaming from the front window stopped.

“Ryan?” YN and Danneel stepped outside and saw the boy being taken to a police car. “What the hell?”

“Hi, Danneel! You’re amazing, and I love you!” Ryan yelled over his shoulder as YN and her foster mom watched in shock.

“He was trying to get close to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it!” YN shrieked and ran back through the house entrance.

Danneel chased after her.

“You didn’t know, baby!” She caught the girl’s arm and spun her around. Danneel pulled YN into a hug as the teen gasped for air with tears streaming down her face. “It’s okay,” the mom said soothingly. They were interrupted by Danneel’s phone ringing. She saw Jensen’s silly expression displayed on the screen. YN’s eyes went wide. “Don’t worry about that. Just breathe.” Danneel presses the red button to ignore the FaceTime phone call.

“I-I didn’t know,” YN hiccupped.

“Not your fault,” Danneel rubbed her back.

The phone went silent, but YN’s phone started ringing. Jensen’s face showed on the screen.

“Yes, Jensen?” YN wiped tears from her face.

“Diaz said there was a call to our house?”

“Who?” YN sucked in a breath.

“He’s a cop friend of ours,” Danneel answered.

“He said there was a disturb- why are you crying?”

YN started shaking. Danneel took the phone from her, and she explained what Ryan had done.

“I’m coming home,” Jensen commanded authoritatively. Danneel saw YN shake her head ‘no’.

“Stop, Jensen. We are fine. The kid is gone. We have to talk to the cops now. We’ll call you later.”

Jensen opened his mouth to disagree, but his wife hung up.

After talking to police, Danneel and YN found out that Ryan had an obsession with the Ackles Family. Danneel was his Hollywood crush, and he had no shortage of pictures of her on his phone. Once the investigative team left, both girls cuddled on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” YN whispered during a TV commercial break.

“Stop. If you say you’re sorry again, I’m going to make you watch one of Jensen’s golf tournament recordings.”

“No!” YN gasped but laughed. “Promise,” she grinned.

The ladies eventually passed out on the couch from their long evening. All of a sudden, the front door opened and slammed shut. Danneel and YN were startled awake. YN screamed on instinct. A phone conversation was heard, and the unknown person turned the corner into the living room. Danneel lied across YN in a protective measure.

“Jensen?”

“Hi,”’he smiled.

“Are you shitting me right now? After the night we’ve been through you couldn’t have called or texted me to tell me you were coming home?” Danneel clutched her chest in relief. She sat up from her position on top of YN and saw the girl she fly crying. “Asshole. You did that,” Danneel pointed to YN’s red eyes.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” he whispered as he hung up. Jensen turned on another light so that he could see them better.

“Jensen. Kitchen. Now.” Danneel stood, but YN latched onto her arm.

“No!” The girl screamed. “Don’t leave.”

Danneel crashed back into the couch next to YN.

“I’m going to put my stuff upstairs, be right back.” Jensen scampered up the steps. When he came back down, YN was rubbing her eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you, pretty girl. You’ve had quite the evening, haven’t you?” YN nodded. “Are you okay?”  The teen reaches her arms up to him from the couch. Noting her nonverbal communication, he pulled her into his chest. YN nodded into his plaid shirt. “Come here,” Jensen guided her back to the couch. He sat down and positioned YN into his side. The dad kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry that kid scared you. You couldn’t have known though. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

————

3 Years Later

YN’s 18th Birthday

“Jensen! Dee!” YN scrambled through the backdoor with a smile on her face after her friend dropped her off from school on a Friday.

“What?” Jensen ran into the kitchen with an alarmed look on his face. The teen ran into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Look!” She put a paper in front of his face.

“My daughter is on the Honor Roll at Johnson High School,” he read on a bumper sticker.

“The bumper sticker part is stupid, but I’m on the honor roll!” YN beamed with pride.

“Oh my- YN! That’s amazing!” Jensen engulfed her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. Kissing the top of her head, he let go.

When Danneel entered, Jensen proudly told his wife about YN’s accomplishments.

“Wow! YN! You’re fantastic!” Danneel hugged the girl tightly.

“Thank you,” she responded in a whispered tone.

“Let’s celebrate tonight,” Danneel smiled. “Why don’t we go get some cake from The Cake Factory after dinner?”

“Could we?” YN grew excited.

“I don’t know why not.” Jensen grinned.

———

“James! I’m on the honor roll!” YN shrieked into the phone after her celebratory dessert outing.

“What?” He reacted. “I’m impressed and so proud. But I’m not surprised. Good for you, boo!”

“Thanks! I’ve never really cared, but I do this time,” she said, perplexed.

“You’re doing so good.“ The conversation was cut off by a knock at the door. YN hid in the kitchen. Still dealing with Ryan’s episode so many years later, she gave a scared reaction as Jensen walked toward the front of the house to open the door. “YN?” James asked. “You there?”

“Hi, Sarah,” Jensen said from the living room.

“James, I gotta go.” YN hung up quickly. She walked to meet Jensen in the living room. “Hey, Sarah!” The now-adult hugged her caseworker.

“Can we sit?” Sarah asked.

“Sure, come in,” Jensen guided the females into the front room. “What’s up?”

YN and Sarah grinned to each other.

“Is Danneel here? I would like her to be in attendance for this,” the caseworker asked. She winked at YN.

“I saw that, what’s going on?” Danneel entered. Jensen narrowed his eyes at YN. She wrung her hands in nervousness.

“Well. Now that I’m eighteen, I am officially out of the system. You promised me that I can stay as long as I want to.” YN took a breath.

“Yeah…” Jensen asked, confused.

“Thanks.”

“Why is Sarah here? We told you that months ago. This isn’t news,” Danneel put a hand on her hip.

“I was wondering… since I can stay, and you are paying for college, and all the stuff you would do for JJ, Zep, or Arrow-“ YN started shaking.

“What is it, sweetie? You’re scaring me.” Jensen took her hands in his.

“Since you treat me like your own, could I be an Ackles?”

“What? You are.” Danneel reacted, perplexed.

“No, like, have your last name,” she weakly smiled.

“You want to have our last name?” Jensen tilted his head.

“That’s why Sarah is here. I already started the paperwork. She has the documents you would have to sign if you want me to be an Ackles.”

“You ARE ours,” Jensen looked from YN to Danneel. His wife had tears in her eyes.

In unison, the Ackles’ responded.

“Yes.”

“See, Sarah, I knew what I was doing,” YN beamed at the caseworker.

“Yes, you did,” Jensen smirked.

————

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[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Cave Mistake

Jensen x Reader (platonic); Dean x Reader; Sam Winchester, Castiel, Anael

A/N: This is for @idreamofplaid‘s Bunker Challenge and for @spndeanbingo. This idea came from the above-mentioned angel, Robin, and I just sort of ran with it. As she originally put it, think a Reversed French Mistake. This is my first time at anything like this, so please, take it with a grain of salt (or you know, buckets of salt). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Reader goes to look for Dean when he stands her up for their date, only to find someone that looked familiar in his place.

Bunker Room: Dean’s Cave

SPN Dean Bingo Square filled: Supernatural

Warnings: Language, bit of angst, bit of floof

WC: 6K

“Dean?! Dean, I know you’re here you son of a bitch!” you screamed, angry and hurt that he stood you up. It wasn’t like him, and even though you had a bit of a disagreement the day before, you didn’t think it was enough for him to blow you off.

Three hours you waited for him at that damn bar. Earlier that day, he promised you a night off of hunting and a good time. Something you both needed, together. As far as you knew, there was no hunt, Dean always calls you to tell you when they were leaving for a job; always.

The bunker was quiet. No Dean. No Sam. Not that that was unusual, but it was creepy quiet. The entire place was ensconced in the red glow of the emergency lights, and there was the slightest hint of something witchy in the air.

Withdrawing your gun from the inside pocket of your leather jacket, you held it out in front of you as you carefully checked each room, only to find them all empty. As you made your way back around to the library, a sound from far down the hall caught your attention. It sounded like it was coming from…

“Dean’s cave. Dammit. I swear… If you are passed out drunk in there--” you muttered as you angrily stalked down the long corridor. “I will whoop your ass, Winchester…”

Once you were outside the door, it was quiet again; so much so that you almost turned and left, but then you heard it again. It sounded like a moan…

Closing your eyes and praying that you weren’t about to catch Dean shitfaced on the floor, you slowly opened the door to Dean’s man cave, and found it empty of the eldest Winchester. In fact, there was no one in there at all, at least that you could see.

Slowly you walked around the room, gun up, finger near the trigger. It wasn’t a big space; easily checked with a quick glance around—or so you thought. Just as you were about to lower your gun and leave, you heard the moan again. Over in the small space between the foosball table and the wall, you saw them… A pair of shoes were sticking out from the legs that disappeared into the shadows.

You set the sight of the gun on the body laying there, ready to shoot it if it charged. You got closer, and gingerly nudged the legs to see if they would move. The owner of the body groaned, deep and raspy, and started to move. That’s when you noticed that whoever it was, they were wearing weird looking shoes and khaki shorts.

Keeping your target on the calf of the intruder, you waited until they were almost sitting up. When their head breached the top of the foosball table, and you thought you saw a familiar face, you lowered your gun. You cocked your head to the side and stared in a curious fashion and he continued to stand up.

“Dean?” you asked, staring at the man who was the identical twin to your boyfriend, but somehow looked nothing like him. “What… Who? Who the Hell are you?!”

“What?” he rasped and brought his hand to the side of his head. The man grabbed onto the side of the foosball table and used it to support himself to stand up. At his full height, his back was still facing you and being unable to see his face in the ambient light of the room, you lifted your gun again.

“Who are you?”

He finally turned around, just as the lights came back on. The stranger wore Dean’s face alright, right down to the green eyes and freckles across his nose.

“What?” he asked again. “Where the fuck am I?”

You clicked the hammer back and put your finger closer to the trigger.

“I am not gonna ask you again, asshole. Who are you and why do you have my boyfriend’s face?”

“Your… my face?” he shook his head, but the confusion didn’t falter. “Just give me a minute… where…” he looked around and realization dawned on his face. “I’m on set. Why am I on set…” he paused again. “HOW am I on set. I’m not even IN Vancouver right now…” his voice trailed off over the last few words as he stepped out from behind the foosball table. That was when he finally noticed the gun that was currently keeping him in its crosshairs.

“Jesus lady! What the fuck!” he yelled and went to grab it from your hand.

In one swift movement, you stepped out of the way, got behind him, grabbed one of his arms twisted it up to his back and pressed the gun to the back of his head.

“Oww! What the Hell is your problem?!”

“My problem?! Buddy, YOU’RE the one with the problem. I will ask you ONE more time… then, I’ll put a bullet in you. WHO are you and HOW did you get into the bunker?”

“Jensen… my name is Jensen, okay? And I work here. This is the set to a show! My show! But I don’t… I don’t know how I got here. I was in Nashville playing golf. We were about to head to the hotel to change for a panel and then, everything went black.”

His voice was strong, not wavering in the least, but you could still tell he was scared. It could have been due to the gun you kept pressed to his neck, but you certainly weren’t going to take any chances.

“Panel?” you asked, confused by the whole situation. Why did this guy look just like Dean? Well… the clothes were definitely off, and this Jensen guy had a nearly full beard, otherwise, he was Dean’s doppelganger.

Slowly, you lowered the gun and began to ease the tension on the arm you had up around his back. He shook you free and stepped away exasperated.

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?!” He seemed panicked and bordering on manic. Before you could tell him to stop, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He was muttering to himself as he opened his contacts and scrolled til he found who he was looking for. But when he hit call, you could hear the tone beeping through his receiver and the operator come on to tell him it wasn’t a valid call.

“Come on,” he groaned and tried again. Then another contact, and another, until he reached the conclusion that there was no one to call. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily, brought the phone to his forehead and rested it there.

The whole thing would have been funny if it wasn’t sorta sad. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you look just like my boyfriend, Dean--”

“Winchester,” he said finishing your sentence. “Yeah, I know him… I AM him.”

“What? No, you’re not. Dean wouldn’t wear clothes like that, especially not khakis and a Polo shirt… and are those kleets? He certainly never grew a beard,” you challenged.

“Yeah, I know, they’d never let me,” he muttered. “And these?” he pointed to his feet. “Golf shoes… I was somewhere on the back nine last I remember. Besides the point, I play Dean Winchester, on a show, called Supernatural. My name… its Jensen Ross Ackles. I was born on March 1, 1978. Dean was born--”

“January 24th, I know. I have celebrated his birthday with him every year for the last few years.”

“Years? What? No… no! The longest Dean ever had someone was Lisa, and he was only with her a year.”

You watched in horror as this stranger with your boyfriend’s face recanted Dean’s history to you; every minute detail, every little scrap of his life… this guy knew all about it. Well, except for you. Apparently, you were the wild card.

“And when did Dean get another girlfriend?!” he finally finished, raising his hands in the air then slapping down against the outer part of his thigh. “Fuck me I need a drink.”

Jensen continued to pace, and as he whipped out his cell phone again.

“Are you willing it to give you a different outcome?” you asked, not without sarcasm.

“I--no. I just… here, I’ll show you.” He navigated to the internet and typed his name into the search bar. Nothing. No results. “That can’t be.” He tried again, and nothing.

“Look, whoever you are, you are not in Vancouver. You are in Lebanon, Kansas. This is Men of Letters bunker, currently inhabited by The Winchesters. This is--”

“No!” he exclaimed with a note of fear. “This is a television show set, in Vancouver, Canada, and you’re a PA who Misha probably set up to prank me,” he said, his nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but as the thought left his lips, he seemed to relax.

“Misha? Who the fuck is Misha?”

Jensen sighed and looked at you with an air of annoyance. “You probably know him as Castiel.”

You nodded slowly, and finally decided it was safe enough to stow your gun back in its rightful place. “I do know Cas, but… he’s not been to Earth in a few years now. He returned to Heaven after…”

“After, what?” Jensen asked in mocking fashion.

“You know what? Fuck you. I don’t have to explain myself. YOU are the stranger here. Not me.”

“Yeah, okay lady. Tell Misha I said he got a great actress, okay? He wins. Prank war, over.”

“Ok, I’ve had enough. Come on, pretty boy, let’s go,” you said and motioned towards the door.

“Go where?”

“Out into the bunker. Show me where the ‘set’ is supposed to be, hm? Or the cameras… where are they?”

“Fine. I will,” he replied, an arrogant smirk on his face.

His resemblance to Dean was scary, they were identical in their mannerisms and tone of voice.  But this guy was different, it only took a few minutes to see that. He was lighter and much less… haunted.

Jensen went to leave the room, put his hand on the door and paused. You couldn’t see his face, but the way his shoulders slumped you assumed he came to some kind of reckoning. He picked his head up and turned to face you.

“Problem?” you asked, hands firmly planted on your hips.

“Slight one. I just realized that if this were the set, that wouldn’t be there,” he said and motioned towards the wall behind the mini bar. But yet…”

“There’s a wall.”

“Precisely.”

“So, quite a conundrum we find ourselves in here… what was it again?”

“Jensen,” he grumbled, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.

“Now what? Think maybe the truth might finally work for ya?”

“Lady, I am telling you--”

“Call me lady again, and I certainly will not respond like one,” you warned, reaching for the gun in your jacket pocket.

Jensen put his hands up in relent and walked around the room towards the mini-bar. When he went behind it and found the small fridge full of cold beer, he pulled one out and popped the top. Chugging half the beer, he turned and looked at the wall curiously. You watched as he pounded on it at the seems, and tried to both push and pull on it.

“What the HELL are you doing?” you asked, unable to stay quiet.

“It’s a fake wall, right? I mean, this isn’t real. None of this is real.”

“I’ll tell you what, let’s go take that walk after all, hm? Maybe if you see that the bunker is solid and that there’s no camera crew, you can stop acting like a lunatic and help me figure out what the fuck is going on.”

Jensen considered it for a moment and agreed. “I honestly don’t have anything else so, why not.”

“Well, as you keep saying, you have played this part for years. So, get in his head and think. What happened?”

He paused a moment and you could tell he was trying, but he was coming up blank.

“Fine. let’s just take a look through the bunker. Maybe if you walk around, you’ll get an idea of how you got here.”

You lead him through the various rooms, and in each one he looked around as if he was lost in some kind of fog, mumbling to himself as he went. He went down each corridor, through the kitchen, all the bedrooms, war room, library, even the firing range, and storage. Eventually, you lead him up through the main door and up to the garage.

It was in the garage, that your concern over Dean’s whereabouts grew. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his car, and the Impala was currently parked in its usual spot.

Jensen heard you inhale sharply, and looked you over. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you replied curtly.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Yeah, well, you may have his face but you don’t look like Dean. So, where the fuck is he and why are you here?

That's where the wheels started to come off for Dean’s look-a-like. He started to laugh, almost manically and then rub his hands over his face. A thought had occurred to you, a sick one, but one you had to follow regardless.

“I’m just gonna put this out there if this is some elaborate prank--”

“But!! That’s just what I said!!” Jensen exclaimed, his face twisted into a mix of exasperation and panic.

“You said Misha was pranking you. I am saying if you ARE Dean, and this is a way to fuck with me....”

Jensen exhaled and shook his head for a beat before it snapped up and held your gaze.

“Dean has one tattoo, right? The anti-possession tattoo on his chest…”

You shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

Jensen pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a bare spot where the ink should have been. “See, nothing. Also…” he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal an elaborate tattoo of a bird. “He doesn’t have this.”

You stepped closer to inspect it, and when you reached out to touch his skin, he flinched. “I just want to be sure it’s real.”

“Oh, it’s real. I got it for my daughter. I am telling you, my name is Jensen. I am not from here… this is… this…” he started laughing again and just turned to wander down the path back to the bunker, but kept turning around to see if you were following him.

By the time you were back in the safety of the bunker, Jensen went right to the cave and to the beer he left sitting on the mini bar top.

“You were saying?” you said, falling into one of the recliners.

“I just… Wait. We did this…” Jensen mumbled and paced the room, eventually coming to sit in the recliner beside yours. “This was an episode, this was… fuck… season five. No, six. Shit!” He growled in frustration and continued mumbling to himself. “Do something as long as this and it all blurs together.”

“What?”

He looked at you and shook his head. “Nothing. It's just that, on our show, we had an episode like this. It was angels. Angels threw Dean and Sam into another reality. Where they were us. It was so dumb, but also pretty meta,” he snorted a laugh but when you didn’t return his humor, his face fell. “Whatever. My point is, is if this is REALLY happening, its gotta be angels.”

“Angels. Angels are gone, man. I guess your show didn’t cover that?”

“Well, sort of. They’re almost all gone,” he replied.

“I’m calling Sam. He’s gotta be able to help. Or at least know where Dean is.”

“Yes! Call Jar--Sam. Good call,” he smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows along his legs and nervously rubbed his hands together.

You pulled the cell from your pocket and found Sam on speed dial. His phone didn’t ring, just beeped like the old house phones used to when they were busy.

“Damn. I’ll try Dean, again.”

Same problem.

“Shit.”

“No luck?” he asked.

“Clearly,” you replied and held up the darkened screen of the phone. “I wonder…” you went back to your contacts and dialed Rowena.

No answer.

“Fuck!”

Frustrated, you got up from the recliner and went back to the mini bar grabbing two bottles. As you walked back to the chair, you handed one to Jensen even though he didn’t ask.

“I’m not Dean, remember. I certainly can’t drink like he does.”

“Yeah, well, suck it up buttercup. Down the hatch. You’re gonna need it.”

Jensen laughed. “I gotta ask you… shit… I don’t even know your name.”

You eyed him suspiciously. There had been some weird shit that went down around Sam and Dean over the years, but this was a new kind of cuckoo.

“Y/N,” you said and went back to trying to figure out what to do next.

“It's very odd to meet you, Y/N. Mind I ask you something?”

“Why not.”

“How did you meet Dean?”

“Oh, I’m not on your show?” you couldn’t help reply with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Jensen simply shook his head in response. “Too bad.”

“So? How did you and Dean end up together?”

“What do you care?”

“Because I AM him. I am. I have played that character for damn near fifteen years, and now that it's all coming to an end…” he trailed off, his expression growing distant and sad.

“Jensen?”

“Uh? Sorry. I drifted. I’m just curious. Regardless of whatever the hell this all is, Dean is clearly living a life that I’m not apart of and I want to know how he met a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?” you didn’t know if you should be offended or not.

“Spunky. Fierce. Not gonna lie… a little scary.”

You shrugged demurely and smiled. “Aw, ain’t you a charmer.”

“Let’s not forget sarcastic.”

“It’s the language of my people.”

“Yes, Dean’s too. So, tell me. How?”

“We met on a job. I was the job. He was the hunter. Simple as that.”

“What kind of job?”

“Jesus, Jensen. Does it matter?”

“It does to me, okay?”

“It was a haunting, and they showed up out of nowhere. I had no idea what it was but I was scared, and it was coming after me every night. They guys showed up, claiming to be paranormal researchers, and asked if they could check the place out. I said yes because I wanted whatever it was to get out.”

“Did they do it?”

You nodded quietly. You didn’t want to talk about the case. It was personal and hard to discuss with anyone that wasn’t Dean; even a man who wore the same face.

“Dean stuck around afterward. Made sure I was ok. Then, I don’t know one thing led to another, and now here we are a few years later and…” you shrugged.

“You’re still together.”

“Yup.”

Jensen’s expression changed and despite the craziness of the situation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked almost peaceful.

“Holy shit!” he said and jumped up out of the chair. “I remember!” He placed the beer down on the floor next to the recliner and went over to where he woke up by the foosball table. There, on the wall was what he had thought of. “Look, see!”

You got up and walked around to see what he was pointing at. On the bottom of the wall was a small sigil, painted in a dark red substance you were pretty sure was blood.

Jensen touched it, then wrinkled his nose and quickly wiped his hand on his far-too-clean khakis. “Oh God, I hope that's just painted on… in paint.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him out of the way to get a better look. It had been a long time since you had seen anything Enochian, but it was a symbol you knew well. “Fucking angels,” you groaned as you studied it closely. “Dammit.”

“See, I told you!” Jensen smiled, proud of himself, but still trying to get the red mark off his fingers.

“Good for you, you get a gold star,” you replied half-assed, ignoring the glaring look Jensen gave you.

Wracking your brain you moved away from the sigil and began to pace the cave, running your fingers along the bars of the foosball table. Chewing your bottom lip, you tried to figure out what to do next. Angels had left Earth years before, right after Chuck had come back and saved humanity from a very ugly ending. Calling on them now may prove difficult, but it was the only choice you had.

Sitting in the recliner again, you closed your eyes and let your fingers intertwine with each other, clasping them together tightly. “Dear Castiel, I know its been a long time, but, if there is any way you can hear me if you can hear any part of this prayer… I need your help. Dean and Sam, they’re gone. I need--”

“I know,” you heard from the doorway right after a rush of wind lifted your hair from your face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know where they are and I am working on getting them back.”

“Castiel,” you breathed as you slowly stood up. “You’re here.”

“I am. I’m sorry I’ve been, MIA, as Dean would say. Heaven is once again falling into chaos--” he stopped as he noticed Jensen standing near the table. “Who…” Castiel paused and in a flash was standing behind Jensen, making him jump. Cas inconspicuously sniffed the air around Jensen’s head, frowning before flying back to where he had been. “Despite looking very much like him, this is not Dean.”

“No, Cas. It’s not. That’s what I am saying. Dean was gone and in his place…” you motioned towards Jensen, “This.”

“Hey,” Jensen whined.

“So, you said you know. What do you know? Where are they? What happened?”

“It's another angel, she’s…” Castiel trailed off and gestured vaguely. “She’s causing trouble. She wants me to help her, claims she has a vision of how God wanted humanity to be. Claims he left her with it the last time he walked the Earth.”

“After Jack?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

“Oh, yeah, the Jack story. Huh,” Jensen smiled. “That was a crazy one man, I liked how--” he stopped talking when he realized both you and Castiel were staring at him strangely. “Just saying it was a cool way to wrap... up… that... I’m just gonna finish my beer now.”

“Good idea,” you said to him and turned back to Castiel. “Alright, so which angel?”

“Anael.”

“Oh! I remember her!” Jensen butted in again. “On the show, my wife played Anael. Pretty cool, right?”

“What is he talking about? What show?” Cas muttered, leaning in close so maybe Jensen wouldn’t hear.

“Long story for another day. Can you get to her? Find out why she did this?”

“She wants me to help invoke her vision of the new heaven. I told her no. She claims I owe her one and told me she would torture my ‘favorite humans’ if I refused her,” Cas sighed and dropped his arms to his side after using dramatic air quotes.

“Meaning Dean and Sam.”

“Yes.”

“Well, she followed through. So, go find the angel bitch now, get my boys back, Cas.”

“I’ll do my best, Y/N.” With that, he was gone.

“Wow,” Jensen whispered loudly. “To see it really happen. Amazing.”

“Yeah, its Aces.”

You went back to where you left your beer and finished the bottle in one long pull. Making your way back to the mini bar, you grabbed another.

“So,” Jensen said, trying to hard to be casual, and strolled over to where you were standing. “Can I ask you something else?”

“What?”

“It's personal.”

You looked at him, exasperated and tired. “What, Jensen?”

“Do you, uh… I mean, are you in love with Dean?”

The question made you snort a laugh and sigh. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Why?”

“Because it's personal.”

“Yeah, but see, in my world, Dean is mine. He’s me, in some form. And in my world, the show is ending. I have to say goodbye to him soon. This whole thing, which I'm still not convinced isn’t some kind of bad fever dream, or I don’t know… feels more like a bad acid trip, but either way, it's happening. It happened right before we finished up the show. For good.”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly worried what may happen after that. “If you end the show… what happens here? Do we keep going?”

“God I hope so,” he sighed. For the first time since the entire debacle started, you felt an odd connection with him. Maybe it was that the expression he wore, it looked the most like Dean's, even with the beard and country club look. “When we film that last episode, just knowing that Dean Winchester is still out there, somewhere, living his best life with his brother, his car and his best girl at his side…” Jensen trailed off and shrugged. “That would make it just a little bit easier to close that chapter of my life and move on.”

His words hung in the air and seemed to suck the breath from your lips. The weight of all that was going on finally hit you hard enough to have to hold onto the bar for support. Jensen wanted to know if you loved Dean. It wasn’t something you and he had ever said, but you always felt it from him.

“It's okay,” he continued. “You don’t have to answer.”

“Yes,” you replied suddenly and before you could stop yourself. “I do love him. I think I have from the minute I met him.”

Jensen’s face softened, and he tried to hide his grin, but you saw it anyway.

“And you guys… you’re happy?” he asked.

“I mean, yeah? He drives me crazy constantly, drinks too much, drives too fast, is reckless on hunts, always uses all the hot water and is very bossy. But, yeah. I’m happy. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Before Jensen could speak, the sound of fluttering wings filled your ears. You turned around quickly, ready to pounce in case it wasn’t Castiel. That’s when you saw her, her upper arm held firmly in Castiel’s grip.

“Anael, I presume,” you said, trying to keep yourself calm.

She didn’t reply but just stared daggers into you.

“Yes, Y/N. This is Anael,” Castiel answered for her.

You casually turned back to Jensen and saw the look on his face. He was both scared and captivated, unable to take his eyes off the angel in front of him.

“That’s your wife?” you whispered.

“Well, that’s what she looks like,” he said and swallowed thickly. “But that ain’t her.”

His eyes grew wide as Anael tried to bring herself up at full power, but Cast was able to reel her back in before she could blind both you and Jensen.

“Enough, Anael!”

“Fine,” she sighed. “What do you want?”

“I want my boys back!” you yelled, but she wasn't scared, she just laughed.

“Ok. As soon as Castiel agrees to help me. It's pretty simple.” She was cocky, just like you remembered the angels being. It made you want to find the closest angel blade and use it to wipe the smirk off of her face.

“Fine. He’ll help you. Now go get them and put this one back where he belongs,” you motioned towards Jensen who stepped behind the safety of the mini bar and continued to watch it all play out.

“Y/N,” Castiel commanded. “I will not help her. What she wants to do--”

“I don’t CARE!” your voice roared through the cave, bouncing off the concrete walls and piercing through the angel’s ears. Turning your sight onto Anael, you walked closer to her, and without asking or warning, you slipped your hand into Castiel’s coat and retrieved the angel blade that you knew lived there. Before he could grab it back, you had it at her throat, pressing it taut against her host’s skin.

“Go ahead, then see how easy it is for you to get your precious boys home. Then you’ll just be stuck with that one over there. The one who only pretends to be Dean Winchester.”

“You know what, red? Here’s what you’re gonna do. Knock off the bullshit, go retrieve Sam and Dean wherever the hell you stashed them. Then, return Jensen back to his rightful place. Only then, will you get what you want.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” she said, still very calm and collected. “Simple trade. I get Castiel’s word he backs me in Heaven, and you get the Winchesters back. He ”

“And, me?” Jensen asked, raising his hand halfway up. “What happens to me.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Anael said and winked at him. “I’ll be sure you get home safely. Just as soon as Castiel gives me what I want.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Anael,” Castiel replied stoically.

“Don't you? Remember when that little Nephilim problem was out of control? I helped you find a way to talk to God. And God returned, didn’t he? He came in time to stop that Nephilim from destroying the world. Sure, it got us put in a Heavenly time out for the last couple of years. But, I helped you. Now, it's your turn.”

“If I remember, I gave you jewelry--”

“Listen here, you bitch…” you growled, pushing the blade down on her harder ignoring their pointless banter. “I don’t give a shit about what Castiel owes you. You will go and retrieve Sam and Dean or I will make sure you suffer.”

“Do you really think calling me names is the way to get what you want?” she laughed despite the gash of light that was starting to form on her throat.

“Look me in the eye and see if I give a shit. Now. Bring them back, or I slit your throat. Then, I’ll make it my mission to hunt down every angel in heaven, even if that means booking myself a one-way ticket up there just to torture all of you feathered dickheads. Or, you could just return them, send Jensen home and I will see what I can do about getting Castiel to assist your mission.”

You immediately gave Castiel a warning look to just stay quiet. The tension in the room was thick with animosity, as you and Anael held each other’s gaze; one waiting for the other to break. It took more than a minute, but Anael must have weight her options, and you saw her expression falter.

“Fine. Release me, Castiel. You can take the blade away, honey. I’ll go retrieve your boys. This was fun for a while but honestly, it's just sort of pathetic now.”

You reluctantly took the blade from her throat and stepped back. You gave Castiel a slight nod and he let go of Anael’s arm. She smoothed out her clothes and primped her hair before looking from face to face.

“Give me a moment, I’ll be back with the boys. You,” she said and pointed at Jensen, “Let’s go.”

Before you could say another word, Anael and Jensen were both gone. A second went by, the bunker lights flickered off and on rapidly, finally sending the emergency lights back on. The red glow in the cave gave it an ominous atmosphere causing a moment of panic to settle in. It lasted only a minute, and the lights corrected themselves just as there were two loud thumps that came from the hallway.

You and Castiel just looked at each other, then turned your heads in unison towards the door to the cave. You could hear movement coming from the other side. Unsure of what it could be, you handed Castiel back his blade and withdrew your gun from your jacket one more time. The handle started to turn, both you and the angel ready to fight if need be.

As soon as it pushed open all the way, light from the hallway trickled in and you could see Dean and Sam’s silhouettes against it. Overcome with relief, you laid your weapon down on the foosball table and jumped into Dean's arms.

“Holy Hell… baby, it's good to see you,” he breathed, burying his face into your neck. His arms were hooked around your waist and he had no plans of letting go.

“Sam, Dean… are you alright?” Castiel asked, and began to look Sam over.

“We’re fine, Cas. It's good to see you,” Sam huffed, and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, giving him a familiar squeeze. “Been a while, huh?”

“I’m sorry it was under these circumstances. Anael--”

“There’s time for that later, Cas,” you said and looked back up at Dean. “Where were you?”

“I don’t even know… it was… weird. I mean, even for us, weird.”

“Weird how?”

Sam rubbed his arm and looked like he’d just been through it. “It was awful. We were in this place… another damn TV Show. We thought it was the trickster at first.”

“Was it Supernatural?” you asked, and they both looked at you curiously.

“No, not this time… How did you…?”

“Another long story,” you said with a sigh of relief.

“It was this place called Stars Hollow. Apparently, I was Dean,” Sam snorted, “and this one… they kept calling him Jess…”

“We had to smile at people constantly. One day there I feel I’ve been bad touched all over,” Dean groaned. “Seriously, I need a shower.” He looked up at Castiel really seeing him for the first time. “Cas… it's good to see you.”

Dean embraced his old friend quickly, then immediately returned to you and pulled you into him again, holding you tight like you were his anchor holding him bound to where he belonged.

“Good to see all of you. I guess, all things considered, maybe I should start coming around more often. With Anael in the wind…” he shrugged.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Dean said quietly. “You’re family, Cas,” Dean said and squeezed you tighter against him. “You’re our family. Right guys?”

You and Sam both agreed and the angel blushed. “Thank you. After everything ended… I just needed time.”

“Understandable. But now, you’re back. So stick around a while, alright? I owe my girl here a night out, and then we can get into all those long stories you two seem to have.”

“That can wait, Dean.”

He gazed down at you, his eyes soften and his smile warm. “It can’t. I didn’t know if I’d see you again, and that killed me. Right now answers sound great, but being alone with you sounds better.”

You knew when to argue and when not too. Now was not the time. “Ok.”

Dean kissed the top of your head and turned to his brother. “Sammy, you gonna be alright?”

“Yeah man, you and Y/N go out, unwind. We’ll all compare notes tomorrow. That shower sounds like a good idea.”

Giving both Sam and Cas a hug, you and Dean walked out of the cave and down the corridor of the bunker. You couldn’t help but stare at him, and then remember Jensen. They really were physically identical, and yet it amazed you at how different they were.

Dean felt your eyes on him and scowled. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said then proceeded to slowly look him up and down. “Have you ever thought about playing golf? I’d be you look really freaking cute in those shorts.”

“What? No! You hit your head or something?”

“No, concussion-free. Just got to thinking…”

“Well stop it. Unless you’re thinking about how you can make that up to me later. Golf… she says.” Dean shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling you close and ushering you down the hall and out of the bunker for your long-awaited night out.

Tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87  // @lefthologramdeer  //  @his-paradox //  @letsby // @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly  // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff //  @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @katehuntington

[the-life-pursuits-blog]

THE LIFE PURSUITS OF BOBBY GENOVESE

Sitting in a drawing room fringed with French Country trimmings, Genovese is clad in his typical attire of casual jeans and a white dress shirt (“I’m not a suit-and-tie guy, this is it”) – all from Ralph Lauren, his favourite. “I don’t like change, everything I own is 99 per cent Lauren – the other per cent is something someone gave me that didn’t know about that,” laughs the multiple polo champion, founder of Vancouver International Polo and major shareholder of Upper Canada Polo Fields in southern Ontario’s Cookstown. “My father and my grandfather were both champions at golf – I found it a rather slow sport,” explains Genovese, who adopted their competitive, winning spirit.

Soon enough, Genovese’s charismatic air fills the preserved farmhouse, the stage of his many childhood memories, set in the rural rolling hills of King City, just north of Toronto. “Where else in the world would I rather be,” says Genovese, who had his mother’s 1930s, three-bedroom, 4,000 sq.ft. farmhouse, which sits on 30 acres of land, restored. “I wanted to keep it almost exactly the way it was so that my children could understand what their grandmother was all about,” says Genovese, who left the family portraits, delicate antiques, quant furniture and creaking floorboards untouched. He and his two brothers (Rick and Jeff), were raised by their mother on her service-sector salary in Cookstown. “My mom loved this piece of property, but unfortunately, she didn’t have the means to do what I’ve done – I was able to buy it, and buy out our three neighbours!”

Resource URL :- https://dolcemag.com/successstories/the-life-pursuits-of-bobby-genovese/4195

[jimmydemaret]

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[mygolfshirtsblog]

5 Best Trendy Women’s Golf Apparel Brands in 2022

Women's golf fashion has progressed significantly throughout the years. Women now have more alternatives than ever before when it comes to heading out to the courses. Even though female golf apparel has gone a long way, most pro shops across the world continue to favor men's gear. However, there is an activity in the women's clothes market. An expanding number of firms specialize in attractive, high-performance golf apparel for ladies.

Let us take a look at a few of the brands for Women’s golf apparel

Course and Clubs:

The creator of Course & Club began playing golf as an adult when she joined a women's 9-hole league. Looking for golf attire that represented her usual daily fashion, she founded Course & Club in 2017 to address this demand. While their product selections are less broad than those of the other manufacturers on our list, with just classic golf shirts and skirts now available, Course & Club does outperform competitors in terms of pricing. While less priced, the clothes appear to have all of the necessary attributes of luxury golf apparel. 

Lija: 

LIJA was formed in Vancouver, Canada by Linda Hipp. LIJA pulls influence from worldwide high fashion and Vancouver's athletic lifestyle to inspire women to express themselves and move with confidence. Their current golf range includes pretty basic designs that would look great at any country club, as well as unique golf shirts to stick out.

JoFit:

Joanne Cloak created Jofit in her basement and garage, to create a women's golf gear business from the ground up to empower women in the game. Their women's selection is comprehensive and offers alternatives for all seasons so you can play rain or shine, as well as many various hues such as women’s pink golf shirts. Jofit understands that women's golf shirts should be both comfortable and fashionable.

GGBlue:

GGBlue was designed for female golfers looking for a quality golf clothing brand that helps them feel and look fantastic. Many of their women's golf shirts have SPF 35-50 sun protection and moisture-wicking fabrics that may keep the skin up to five degrees cooler. GGblue is noteworthy for having one of the broadest product ranges of any female golf-focused business, in addition to the effort put into the designs. They offer wild golf shirts with all-over prints that create a feminine silhouette, making them a terrific statement piece to add to your golf collection.

 Nike:

Nike is at the top of my list of the greatest golf fashion bands. When it comes to golf gear, they are the most inventive firm. They establish trends, break the norm, and reshape society's perception of golf clothing. Nike's women's golf shirts include Dri-FIT moisture management technology, which draws perspiration and moisture to the skin's surface for rapid evaporation. This keeps you cool and dry throughout the day, especially on those wonderful bright golf days. Nike has a terrific range of women's golf clothing.

Summary: 

When you look at what is available in most pro shops and golf stores, being a female golfer might be difficult. Fortunately, there are a few forward-thinking businesses dedicated to giving female golfers attractive, trendy, and athletic solutions! So, the next time you're searching for new course equipment, keep these brands in mind!

[devinlucas]

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[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 17 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Chapter 16 was the first chapter to get over 100 notes and I’m over here like 😭😭😭😭😭 because of you guys!   Thank you thank you thank you!

Bee passed all her exams.  She was graduating with a 3.8 GPA.  Straight As in every course she took.  Her graduation ceremony was in June.  She’d officially have earned a Master’s in Financial Economics.

She did it.  

When she got the email from the registrar’s office, it was early on a Saturday morning.  She was at her apartment, stuffing cereal into her face.  Morgan was at morning practice for the game they had against Vancouver that night.  She knew because of practice she wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him, so she called Angie and screamed about it on the phone, and Angie, in turn, screamed back.  Mason screamed at Angie’s screaming, and when he learned why she was screaming, started screaming about it too.  Just one big scream-fest.  She messaged the girls about it in their group chat, and they all congratulated her, already making plans to go out and celebrate.

When Morgan arrived at her place, Bee was still giddy with excitement.  Having seen her flurry of texts to him after she couldn’t get a hold of him on the phone, he picked her up and spun her around, flooding her face with kisses.  His congratulations were many, as he kept repeating over and over how proud he was of her.  The celebration was lengthy, but, in typical Bee fashion, she put a halt to it when she announced that she now needed to work on her resume and send in job applications so she could get a job as soon as possible.  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

After about two weeks of applications, with a day of shopping in between with Aryne so she could buy a dress for the Night With Blue and White gala, she had no bites.  It was a little demoralizing, but she knew these things took time.  She also knew the Night with Blue and White would be another opportunity for her, regardless of the time and place, to try and land something.  Maybe she was being opportunistic, maybe she was being a little bit devious or scheming, but she needed to do what she needed to do to survive.  It was all she ever knew – survival.  She couldn’t live on the benevolence of others for forever.  She couldn’t keep mooching off her friends.  She needed to be a functioning and contributing member of society.  She needed to pay some taxes.  She needed to contribute to a benefits package.  She needed a salary.  She couldn’t just loaf around, waiting for a job to come to her.  

Despite her drive to get a job, and despite relentlessly putting in applications to every position she was qualified for (even for those she was under- or over-qualified for), she had agreed to go to Vancouver with Morgan.  He’d managed to convince her that it would be a nice break for her, that after the break-in and the moving and everything else, she could use a little vacation.  It would be her first time on a plane.  It would be her first time out of southern Ontario.  She was nervous, but the thought of meeting his family – the parents that raised him, the brother that supported him – was an opportunity she couldn’t fathom missing.  So she said yes.  They’d be leaving on the morning of January 24th and would be coming back the night of January 30th.  Six whole days in Vancouver.

But first, it was the Night With Blue and White.  

Aryne goaded her into getting a beautiful floral dress and some scalloped heels for the occasion.  Nothing they bought her before was fancy enough, she argued, so they had to go shopping.  Bee had never been to such a fancy event, so she was taking Aryne’s lead as to how much to dress up.  They’d even gone to get their hair done together before Aryne dropped her off back at her apartment.  She’d been in the bathroom for half an hour, making sure to get her makeup just right.  She knew Morgan was just waiting around; probably eating whatever was in her kitchen and getting food on his dress shirt.  

“Hey Bumblebee,” she heard his voice call out.  She was shocked to hear it coming from right inside the bedroom.  “Taxi is gonna be here in about ten minutes.  Are you gonna be ready?”

She looked at her phone for the time.  All she really needed to do was apply her lipstick and setting spray (who knew there was a spray to set your makeup?  Not Bee) and she was good to go.  “Yeah.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I can call to delay it.”

“No no, it’s okay,” she said, grabbing the Charlotte Tilbury lipstick and applying a fresh coat to her lips.  

When she opened the door, she saw Morgan sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning over to tie the laces on his dress shoes.  When he looked her way and saw her in the doorframe, he immediately straightened out from his position, looking at her with a fire in his eyes.  “Oh, Bumblebee…” he whispered to himself.

She saw the look on his face and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  His reaction – one of complete awe and reverence – was pretty new.  She smiled and flattened out the bottom.  “Does it look nice?”

She watched as he bit his lip, a smile appearing on his face.  “You look divine.”

Divine.  Divine.  Nobody had ever described her as divine before.  She couldn’t help but smile at the word, and she was acutely aware that Morgan hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she emerged from the bathroom.  “You look quite dapper yourself,” she said, referring to his crisp blue suit and burgundy tie.  

“I look like a bum next to you.”

Bee snorted.  She made her way over to her side of the bed, where her shoes were, and sat to put them on.  “Nah, you underestimate yourself.  All those rich ladies are gonna be falling all over you.”

He got up from his seat at the foot of the bed and walked over to her.  “I mean it Briony,” he said softly, squatting down and grabbing her foot to help her with her shoes.  “You look incredible.  Do you feel incredible?”

She knew he was trying to gauge her comfort level.  She knew this because she was in a fancy new dress, and fancy new heels, and she was going to a fancy event with fancy people and it was all new to her, and when she’d asked him on New Years Eve ‘Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?’ some sort of internal switch flipped in him and now he was hyperaware of how she was feeling when they did stuff like this, or when they went out.  She nodded at him as he worked on her other shoe.  “I feel a bit nervous, but I’m very excited,” she admitted.  “I know how much the cause means to you, and I know it’s going to be very busy, with people everywhere, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Will you let me know if you feel uncomfortable?” he asked, hands gliding up her leg towards her thigh.

She slapped his hand away, scrunching up her face at him.  “Yes,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him quickly before standing up and walking to the armoire to grab her purse.  “We should start going downstairs.  The taxi should be here soon.”

***

Briony McTavish was mingling.  If her MFE taught her anything, it was that you should speak to everybody in the room, because you never know who they are, what they do, and if you can work with them.  For an introvert like Bee, this was no small task, but as she became more comfortable with her surroundings and with the people in the room, she felt more at ease and willing to strike up conversations.  

Morgan was busy doing interviews in the media line.  They hadn’t arrived together – Bee went in first, the taxi took a lap around the block, then Morgan came in after – because there were cameras at the entrance taking video for the Leafs Nation Network and he didn’t want them walking in together to be on video.  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was already out there, that there were rumours and rumblings about them, and she didn’t want to shatter what little control he thought he had about information on them and their relationship getting out.  

She made herself busy by looking through all the auction items and gulping at the starting prices of the bids.  $10,000 starting bid to go golfing with two Leafs players.  $5000 starting bid to have a dinner in the Platinum Lounge with Brendan Shanahan.  $2,000 to attend a personal training session with William Nylander.  Was there a 25-cent lemonade stand somewhere?  A $1 kissing booth that she could maybe contribute to?  And those were just starting bids.  She knew some of them would go higher.  And that was on top of the $10,000 to buy a table!  How rich were these people?

“Do you play golf?” the man beside her asked as he read the board with the auction prize beside her.  “Angus Glen is a terrific club.”

Did she look like she could afford to play that round of golf?  She was about to say something before she remembered what she was wearing and where she was.  It was her automatic reaction to say such a thing but now, times were different.  Tonight, she did look like she could afford to play that round of golf.  “Oh no, not me,” she smiled politely.  “I’m just looking at everything that’s available.”

“What were you thinking of bidding on?”

“I’m not bidding,” she admitted.  “Um, my partner is Morgan Rielly, so we’re leaving it up to others to do the bidding.”

“Ah, of course,” the man smiled.  “Morgan’s prize is pretty neat – the box seats with all the signed swag.  My wife wanted to bid for our son.  He’s a defenseman too – absolutely loves Rielly.”

“That’s fantastic,” Briony smiled.  She gulped.  She was going to do it.  “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself.  I’m Briony McTavish,” she stuck out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you Briony,” the man stuck out his hand to shake hers.  “I’m Mark Travers.  My table and I – we’re all around somewhere --” he was motioning wildly around the room, “we’re here from Scotiabank.”

She perked up a little bit at the mention of Scotiabank, the anxiety now practically sprinting through her veins.  “Oh, that’s amazing!  I did an internship at Scotiabank last summer.”

“You did?  What department?”

“Sales and Trading,” she said.  “It was a requirement for my Master’s of Financial Economics at U of T.  I just completed the program a few weeks ago, actually, and I’ve been looking to get back into th--”

“Are you looking for a position?” Mark interrupted her, albeit politely.  “I mean, if you’ve completed your program.”

Oh God oh God oh God.  “Yes!  I’ve been applying to the Big Five,” she said.  She was going to do it.  She was going to do it.  DO IT!  DO IT BRIONY!!!!!  “I…I mean, I have my resume on Google Docs if --”

“Mmmmmm!” Mark hummed excitedly in response as he took a sip of his drink.  “You can share it with me right now.  We are looking to add more to our team,” he said, pulling out his phone.  “Wow.  I like someone who is prepared like this.  I wasn’t expecting to network tonight but this is a pleasant surprise.  Here, I’ll give you my email.”

Bee was going to throw up all over this man’s suit and shoes.  Her hand trembled slightly as she added his email to the share screen, and he immediately pulled up her resume, scrolling through it slowly, making sure to read everything.  His eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed at what he was reading.  She was actually going to throw up on this man’s shoes.  

“It says here you were the recipient of the Richard Xi Scholarship,” he said as he continued to scroll.  

“Yes sir.  I’ve been only one of five women to gain the scholarship since it’s implementation twenty years ago.”

Mark looked at her.  He turned a little to his left, tapping the shoulder of the person behind him to get his attention.  “Richard!  One of your grant students is here.”

Bee’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.  Oh my God.  Oh my fucking GOD.  She was going to projectile vomit all over these men and never have a job in the banking industry.  The man responsible for funding most of her tuition was standing right in fucking front of her.  She was going to pass out.  She was going to pass out and hit her head and go into a coma and wake up and realize this was all just a dream and --

“One of my students?” Richard asked, looking down at the phone.  He smiled when he realized what Mark meant.  “Ah!  Ms. Briony McTavish!  Hello!”

“Hi,” she let out in as strong of a voice as she could muster.  She didn’t want to seem nervous around these men at all.  She kept trying to remind herself that, fundamentally, there was nothing different about them; they were humans too.  This was happening all because Mark asked her a question about golf.  For the love of God, what was her life becoming?  “It’s an honour to meet you Mr. Xi,” she shook his hand.  “Thank you for --”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, waving her off, his attention still focused on Mark’s phone.  “Oooh!  Rotman Academic Scholarship too!  That’s quite impressive Ms. McTavish.”

“Thank you Mr. Xi.”

“What’s your graduating GPA?”

“3.8.”

“And your professors?”

“Oh, this final semester it was Kopstein, Balot, Hausman, Linklater, and McQueen,” she named them off.

Richard chuckled slightly, giving Mark a slight nudge with his elbow.  “You survived Linklater’s behavioural economics class, did you?”

Bee chuckled too, trying to go with the flow.  “Yes sir.”

“And I see you’ve already done an internship at Scotiabank,” he finally looked up from the phone.  

“Yes sir.  I interned in Sales and Trading, which was fantastic, but I’m looking to get into financial analyst positions --”

“Oh, good.  So you’d want to work for Mark’s department,” he nodded to his apparent friend.  Mark gave her am excited smile.  The butterflies in Bee’s stomach were going crazy.

“Uh, y-yes --”

“Well, we’re in Montreal and New York for meetings all next week,” he informed her.  “And we know it’s the bye-week for these guys too.  Are you free to come in…I don’t know, let’s say February 4th?” Mark asked.

She was going to die before she could even go for an interview.  “Of course I am,” she nodded her head quickly.  “I can come in anytime you’d like.”

“Who was your supervisor during your internship?” Mark asked.

“Dennis Laing.  He --”

“Oh, Dennis!” Mark interrupted her.  “I’ll call him for a reference.  And I’ll make a call to the others you’ve listed as well.”

“Okay, great,” she smiled nervously.  “Um, would you like me to bring anything?  My portfolio, perhaps?  Or --”

“You have a portfolio?” Mark and Richard asked at the same time.

“Well I have work from the internship I completed,” she informed them.  “And I have sample work from U of T.  I know it’s my courses, but I think it’s still a good representation of what I’d be able to accomplish with Scotiabank should I be hired,” she tried to be as confident as possible.  “My work with investments is my strongest, which is why I want to pursue analyst positions.”

Mark and Richard smiled at each other before Mark turned his attention back to her.  “Bring your portfolio,” he said, swiping his screen out of her resume to his calendar so he could add her name.  “I’ll let my colleagues know you’re coming in…let’s say for 11am?”

“Sure.”

“11am,” he smiled.  “I was very lucky to meet you tonight, Briony.”

“Oh, I think I’m the lucky one,” she giggled.

“I’ll come speak to you again later tonight.  I’ll find you at your table,” he said, shaking her hand once more.  “Think you can fix the Rielly prize for me?” he winked playfully.  

“For you, Mr. Travers?  I’ll see what I can do.”

***

“And then,” Bee huffed, in-between frantic kisses, “and then he tapped” kiss “the shoulder” kiss “of the guy behind him” kiss “and it was Richard Xi” kiss “the guy who funded my big scholarship.”

“Oh yeah?” Morgan kissed her, pulling down the zipper of he dress.

“Can you believe it?” she asked.  Kiss.  “So, long story short” kiss “I have a job interview February 4th.”

Morgan pulled away from her with an excited look on his face.  “Really?”

“Really really,” she smiled.

“Well, this is cause for a major celebration,” he pulled down her dress, revealing the navy blue bra and panties set she’d bought for the dress.  “Mmmmmm, navy,” he licked his lips.

“You like?”

“If you wore burlap I’d still get hard,” he said, making her giggle as he leaned in to kiss her again.  Her dress fell to the floor and they climbed into bed, Bee crawling on top of him.  Thankfully, he had already shed his suit into a pile on the floor because he just couldn’t wait.  

She bent down to kiss him, her breasts flush with his chest.  He squeezed the ample flesh at her hips before moving back to her ass.  She grinded against him slightly, and when she stopped kissing him, he moved to her clavicle and chest, kissing and licking his way down to her breasts.

DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  

“What the fuck?” she wondered, unable to concentrate on what Morgan was doing because of the sound of her phone vibrating and alerting her of over ten messages.  

“Ignore it,” he mumbled against her skin

“What if it’s Angie?” she asked.  “What if it’s an emergency?”

“She’d be calling you,” he said quickly, but to no avail.  She leaned over him, inadvertently shoving her breasts in his face, to reach onto the side table to grab her phone.  

When she looked at her phone, there was a flurry of Instagram notifications flooding her screen.  She swiped to unlock and go directly to all the DMs.

Buying more stuff with Mo’s money?  You’re gonna bleed him dry.  He’s gonna be poor by the time he’s done with you and then you’re gonna leave him for the next hockey player with money.

ive been nice can u pls post a pic of u and mo

You think you’re hot shit because you got to go to the Night With Blue and White?  You’re so ugly.

Cassidy is sooooo much prettier than you.

“What is it?” he asked, breathing heavily.

You look so fat in that dress.  Arm flab everywhere.

Guess none of the other wags wanted to sit with you.  

So if you’re at this event it must mean you’re dating Morgan???  Why won’t you answer me?????

“N-Nothing,” she hesitated.  “It’s nothing.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ur literally so desperate and it’s so sad.

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

“It’s – it’s nothing.  It just some random messages.”

“Messages?  From who?”

“Um, from fans.”

“What did you just say?”

You’re trash

Can u pls post a pic of u and mo at the event pls pls pls we want to see so bad

R u the same girl in cassidy’s new years eve video?  And the halloween vids?

Morgan sat up from his position, taking Bee’s phone and looking at the screen with all the Instagram messages lined up perfectly for him to scroll through.  His brows became more furrowed after he read more and more.  “What do they mean videos?”

“I don’t know.  There were like a thousand people there tonight, Morgan.  One of them was probably taking an Instagram live video and we were in the background,” she said.

“No no,” he shook his head, scrolling and reading through more.  “What do they mean Cassidy’s video?  What the fuck are they talking about?”

“Kasperi’s girlfriend from New Year’s,” Bee tried to explain calmly.  “There was…I don’t know, there was like an Instagram story that she did with her and Kappy.  But I guess we were kissing in the background.”

“And it leaked?”

“Nothing leaked, Morgan.  She’s an Instagram model with a public profile.”

Morgan threw her phone on the bed and buried his head in his hands, sighing heavily and letting out a load, exasperated groan.  “Fuck.  Fucking fuck!” he exclaimed.  “I should have been more careful.  I should have been more…fuuuuuck!”

“Morgan, stop.”

“Briony, how long have you been getting these messages?  Be honest with me.”

“I…I mean I think it was Christmas?  I thought they were just bots at first, but then I noticed your name in one of the messages,” she admitted.  “Why does that matter?”

“I’ve told you about what happened before.  I’ve told you,” he said, fear evident in his voice.

“Yeah, so?”

“What the hell do you mean ‘yeah, so?’?” he demanded.  “You don’t get it Briony.”

“They’re just messages, Morgan.  They’re not --”

“Briony, if they scared you or got bad I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” he interrupted her, trying to remain as calm as possible even though the fear within him was threatening to burst out of him at any moment.  “If they…if they hurt you or they scared you or --”

“Morgan, they’re harml--”

“They’re not harmless, Briony!” he yelled, pushing her off his body so he could get up and pace to let off some steam.  He was going to start hyperventilating if he didn’t release some of his energy somewhere.  He felt like punching a wall or throwing something across the room but he knew that was completely out of the question.  Use your words, Morgan.  Use your words.  “Briony, please, this is the one thing.  The one thing.  I want to keep you safe from the craziness of the hockey media and all the social media that comes along with it.  You have to understand where I’m coming from.  I don’t want you to go through that.  Please.  You deserve better than this, Briony.”

“Morgan, I know you do, I know,” she stressed.  “But it was bound to get out eventually.  We couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

“But not like this,” he shook his head as he kept pacing.  “Not through fucking…fans and puckbunnies and through gossip on the internet or Instagram or wherever,” he flung his arm dramatically.  “I’m glad I’m taking you to Vancouver and we’re leaving this right now.  This is exactly what I didn’t want happening.”  

Briony was somewhat concerned, somewhat indignant.  She knew he wanted to protect her, and that was why he didn’t tell her who he was at first, or why they always kept a low profile when they were out, or why they did stuff like arrive separately yet in the same taxi to events so they wouldn’t be caught on camera together.  But he was so upset about this, so visibly shaken, that she felt like there was something else he wasn’t telling her.  She didn’t know if she was right, but he was acting like this was the end of the world.  She’d been through worse than having random people message her telling her she was ugly or demanding pictures and proof she was dating him; she’d heard those ugly comments from her mother all her life.  That meant more than some random wannabe bikini model or Toronto party girl saying it on Instagram.  “What, people seeing you with me?” she demanded of him.

He gave her a look.  “I’d fucking show you off to the entire city if I could, and you know that,” he told her.  “But I don’t, Briony, because then that means that crazy people will know who you are.”

“Crazy people?!  Why do you continue to think I’m some delicate, fragile being in need of protection?” she demanded.  It was her turn to get angry.  He knew she’d dealt with worse in her life and he was still acting like this.  She didn’t know if he liked to just conveniently forget she grew up with an alcoholic mother, or that he didn’t want to think about it, and therefore didn’t have a real understanding of what she had to deal with growing up.  Both were equally as bad.  “Don’t you dare think you are my lord protector now.  I’ve dealt with far worse than this.”

“You don’t underst--”

“I grew up surrounded by alcoholics, Morgan,” she said firmly, letting it all out now.  That made him stop in his tracks and shut his mouth.  “What – you think it was just my mom?  Every single one of her friends was an addict too, and a lot of them were addicted to worse shit than just vodka and whisky and I had to be around it.  I was the only one ever sober enough to see how fucked up they were and I was a child.  A child, Morgan.  All these things you’re scared about, all these things that you think these girls are saying to me – you really think I haven’t already heard that from my mom?” she kept demanding of him.  “Do you really think she would have passed up the opportunity to tell me how unwanted I was?  How much she resented me?  How much of a burden I was because it meant she had to spend whatever money she had on me and not alcohol?  How she’d constantly tell me I’d be alone just like her my whole life because I was the smart girl and the chubby girl and nobody likes the smart, chubby girls?  This is nothing.  These girls want pictures of us, a glam shot of a Chanel bag, or us being cute together.  My mother wanted to drag me down into the darkness with her!  And the more I rejected going into that darkness the harder she tried to pull.  And I was able to pull myself out of that.  I was strong enough to get myself out of that cycle.  Alone.  Completely fucking alone, with help from no-one.  So don’t you dare try to insinuate I’m fragile and you’re the only one who can protect be because I’ve dealt with far worse emotional abuse than what those girls are throwing at me.  I can survive, you know.  I have survived.”

Morgan was silent.  Completely, utterly silent.  He was at a loss for words, though there wasn’t anything to say.  There wasn’t anything that could be said.  Bee had said it all.  And Morgan knew, he knew that everything she had just said came straight from her heart; that she’d been bottling it up for a long time, hiding it, and that it exploded because he was being a bit irrational and wasn’t giving her agency or a choice in the matter.  He had just been speaking to himself; they were never having a conversation.  

Her words hung heavy in the room as they looked at each other.  Morgan knew she was right.  Bee knew she was right.  But for all her pride and insistence, she knew Morgan had a point to.  It was natural to be protective over your partner.  It was natural to get mad at things that happened that were completely out of your control, and that exposed an intimate part of you; a part you didn’t want to share with the world.  They were both right in their own way.  She guessed they just needed to scream about it in order to see it that way.

Morgan’s cheeks were flushed red, and soon, even in the dusk light from the bedside lamp, she saw glimmering streaks fall down his face.  She’d never seen him cry before.  She’d seen him get angry on the ice, or sad because of a loss, or annoyed because of whatever else, but never to the point of tears.  She knew it wasn’t about the screaming or the fight; she knew he was crying because of what she revealed to him.  She knew it was about how much she’d been through, the emotional abuse, and how something he was making such a big deal about was a miniscule problem to her in relation to what she had to endure before.  

When she saw the tears roll down his cheeks, she couldn’t help but start to cry softly, too.  “C’mere, Morgan,” she extended her arms out.

He rushed to her, engulfing her in his arms as they cried into each other’s shoulders.  She played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he squeezed her tight.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” his voice was shaky as he apologized.

“It’s okay, Mo.  I get where you’re coming from,” she said, her voice equally as shaky.  

He pulled away from her to give her a kiss, their tear-stained cheeks pressing together as he held her head in his hands.  “I just don’t want to lose you,” he asserted.  “God Briony, you don’t get it.  If anything happened to you I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.  If you got hurt or scared I --”

“Shhhhhhh,” she said, placing her index finger on his lips as he repeated his earlier sentiments.  “Nothing is gonna happen.  It’s okay.”

“I care about you too much for that to happen Briony.”

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly.  “I’m sorry too, okay?  I’m sorry I got mad.”

“You don’t…you don’t…” he shook his head.  “I know you’re so strong Briony.  I know you are.  You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.  But if I can’t protect you then what can I do?  What am I good for?”

“Shhhhhhh shhhhh shhhhh,” she silenced him again, bringing him to lie down with her in bed.  “Don’t say that Morgan.  Don’t.”

“I just want you to feel safe when you’re with me,” his voice was still shaky.

“I do, Morgan.”

“D’you promise?”

“Yes Morgan.  Yes,” she stressed, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.  “You make me feel so safe.  Like nothing can touch me.  That’s why I feel so fearless about this.  Because I know you’re gonna be there, and that’ll you’ll make everything okay.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or think you couldn’t handle it,” he said.  “I’ve just seen it destroy so many people before.  I’ve seen it destroy relationships.  I just want to make you feel safe.  I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t baby.  You won’t lose me.  You won’t lose me,” she cooed.

As they lay in bed together, Bee kept rubbing circles into Morgan’s back until his breathing steadied and he fell asleep, his body still on hers and his face buried in the crook of her neck.  As tough or as funny or as goofy or as calm or as angry or as happy or as sad or as annoyed as he was and had been throughout their relationship, Bee realized that Morgan was more complicated than that.  Everybody was, she knew, but now she saw a side of Morgan that she hadn’t seen before: fearful.  Fearful for the ones he cared about.  Fearful for their safety.  She saw firsthand what fear could do to him.  She realized there was this instinct in him, a protective instinct, where he believed he was most useful, because that meant it would stop that fearfulness from ever coming to light if he was just protective.   She wished that he didn’t need to feel that way.  She wished that he didn’t need to feel fearful or protective.

She wished he could see how good he was.  

[evstenroos]

IT'S TIME TO UPDATE YOUR APPRAISALS

From the archive: February 27th, 2020

THE RISING COST OF PALLADIUM

Palladium, a shiny white metal in the same group as platinum, is now the most valuable precious metals, with a recent shortage driving prices to an all-time record breaking high.

The cost of palladium has jumped by more than 25% in the last two weeks alone, and almost doubled in value over the last year, making it more expensive than gold...

Read More

MEET THE TEAM: WARREN SMITH, MASTER ENGRAVER AT THE COAST HANDWORKS CO.

Born and raised in North Vancouver, BC, Warren Smith is a journeyman machinist turned goldsmith, master hand engraver revered for his meticulous attention to detail and outstanding artistic designs.

"Growing up, I lived across the street from Robert Davidson and Bill Reid, two famous west coast artists. I was influenced early on by the artwork in their houses. It led to me being interested in and studying art as a teenager, primarily north west coast work.”

Warren went on to become a full journeyman machinist, melding his love of art and metal together while continuing to practice engraving on his own. When he was offered a job as head engraver at a company in Vancouver, after walking in to ask a few questions about tool design, Warren saw it as an opportunity to gain more technical knowledge and accepted.

“I would start my days at 5:30 in the morning and finish around 10 at night, in order to learn while working.”

 It was during his time in Vancouver that Smith met Ellinor, who was also working with a different jewelry company.

“Her and I would meet through the phone to work on various projects. When she went out on her own, she called me to work on some of her pieces and I said yes. Ellinor is a dynamo and I can’t say enough good things about her. She is inspiring, her enthusiasm is incredible, and she is one of the hardest working people I know in this business. She places a lot of trust in me and allows me a lot of creative freedom on our collaborations, and I think that’s how you get the best pieces.”

After 12 years in Vancouver, Smith decided to branch out on his own and now works from his ranch/studio in the Okanagan Valley. He has engraved thousands of unique pieces for jewellers, gunsmiths, private collectors, and many celebrities, including David Bowie, John Travolta, and Sylvester Stallone. In 2012, Smith began offering his engraving services directly to the public.

“When I stopped working under the umbrella of a company, I was no longer conveniently located and it was only my reputation on the line. The fear that people wouldn’t like my work and that they wouldn’t come, meant the quality of my work had to increase immensely.”

Warren has studied and mastered several distinct art forms and engraving styles. To this day he is a devout scholar of Heraldry, Calligraphy, European and American Scroll Work, and the Native formline art style of the Pacific Northwest. A selection of Warren’s original works can be purchased online at The Coast Handworks Shop  along with an assortment of blank signet rings and bands tailor-made for custom engraving based on customer input.

Learn More About Warren’s Work

KIRSTEY JANE, PHOTOGRAPHER & FOUNDER OF SUPER CORPORATE PEOPLE

Kirstey Jane has always loved taking pictures. Before moving to Calgary and opening her own photography studio, Kirstey split her time between working in London’s restaurant and nightlife industry and taking photos.

“I had a career in training and development but there were just so many actors, dancers, and performers who needed photos for their portfolios. I would photograph them and weddings and corporate events on the weekends and in the evenings.”

In 2001, Kirstey left behind London’s hub of fashion and media agencies to come to Calgary and start a family. But, when she arrived, she realized the photography industry in Alberta was going to be very different. “London was very exciting and fashion-focused. There was a lot of attention to detail, the city was busy and thriving. But here, people wanted pictures of their dogs,” she laughs. “And no one had a website for their work. It was all through the yellow pages.”

Although Calgary lacked a strong online photography community, it didn’t take long for Kirstey to find a niche for herself.

“The corporate, business-side of things in Calgary was very male dominated and it was a blur of golf shirts, chinos, and coffee mugs. I wanted to put a spin on it and help people ramp up their business image. I was able to find clients and build up my portfolio mostly by word of mouth. People would see my pictures on someone’s desk or business card and I would be referred to them.”

But as digital cameras became more and more accessible, Kirstey had to continue distinguishing her business from emerging photographers.

“It’s not all about how great the pictures are. In my opinion, it’s 20 percent technical skill and 80% people skills. You have to know how to talk to people, how to resolve problems, and how to navigate a business.”

 When Kirstey met Ellinor, through a mutual friend over ten years ago, the two instantly clicked and began working together. You may recognize Kirstey’s work from EVStenroos editorial campaigns and more recently, our 10th anniversary party.

 “You don’t find work like Ellinor’s often, especially in Calgary," Kirstey says. "I can’t remember the first shoot we did together, whether it was business or social, but we really connected. She has a keen eye to detail and is very visual. She liked my photos, and I didn’t have to explain much to her. We do the same work, just in different trades.”

Learn More About Kirstey’s Work