#mission bay park

[crudlynaturephotos]

[jamisonwieser]

San Francisco's newest park is open! 

China Basin Park is part of the high-density, mixed-income, mixed-use Mission Rock development that the San Francisco Giants – Go Giants! – are building on what had been a parking lot across the channel from their waterfront ballpark in Mission Bay.

40% of the housing is priced below market rate, 1/3 of the land is dedicated to public open space, the park opened two weeks ago, and it is fantastic.

I could not have picked a better time to take my dog for a walk and check it out.

I didn't know a game was going on until I arrived and walked onto the field facing the ballpark at a picture-perfect moment. Someone was flying a kite, groups of people were hanging out on blankets, and a dad was playing catch with his kids while the crowd in the ballpark cheered.

It's only going to get better as the trees and plants grown in.

[house-of-pitch]

Sunny days in the city by the bay 🌉

[blackandwhiteproductions]

Animals of Balboa Park in San Diego

[simonh]

There's a Science to Walking Through Windows by Thomas Hawk

[sentientaspic]

[alethianightsong]

"I miss when movies weren't political-"

ALIEN is about a megacorporation coercing some salvagers into transporting a dangerous creature without telling them what it is, all because the creature could be a great bioweapon for them. When a survivor of this failed transport mission wants reparations, they screw her over to avoid a scandal.

ROBOCOP is about another mega-corporation experimenting with a cop's body and declaring him their property, trying to reduce him to an obedient killing machine who can maintain the status quo for them.

JURASSIC PARK is about a rich billionaire going all out to make a dinosaur-themed amusement park, not caring about the real-world implications of resurrecting giant lizards. He also underpays ONE guy to maintain the entire park's security systems so predictably, that one guy betrays him at a crucial moment.

The best movies weave their politics with plot & character, so you can enjoy them as entertainment but can also notice the themes. Movies without themes wind up being all spectacle and no substance, just noise and color like Michael Bay's Transformers franchise. Yeah, they make money, but they'll be forgotten in 2 generations.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Its For the Mission

You had to go undercover for a mission. The mission? Seduce the target to get information out of them. Your target is incredibly weak to a pretty face and a little charm. A/N: The boys know why you're going undercover and what you have to do. [Requested by: 17kurodaayumu]

‼️TW‼️: sensitive topics; forced proximity w/ unwanted touching, hints of sexual harassment & assault

"It's for the mission. It's for the mission." You whispered to yourself with a nod. Here you were in the hotel room of who the Hunter's Association suspects may be the head of an organization that has been strategically causing dangerous outbreaks across the country. It didn't take much convincing for you to agree to being bait. However, you didn't expect to end up in your targets hotel room ..... alone.

They were more than willing to tell you everything while you laid on the charm thick, perhaps too thick. They constantly trailed their hand up and down your thigh inching closer and closer to your forbidden fruit. You'd slightly adjust your legs to keep their hand at bay, but it never lasted long. Their hands trailed all over your body leaving a slimy feeling on your skin. You choked back bile as they laid sloppy kisses on your neck.

They mumbled every detail to their plans as if drunk off your body. There it was, you had finally gotten all the information you needed out of them to make an airtight case. Before their hand could sweep up your thigh again you twisted their wrist, side stepping to slam them to the ground and called in your backup. Your team rushed in as you stumbled out of the room vomiting until you were dry heaving into a trashcan you snagged from the bathroom.

Zayne

Zayne waited outside the hotel to pick you up once you sent him a text that the job was done. "How did it go?" He asked, shrugging off his overcoat to drape over your shoulders. "It went....." Your voice trailed off as you recounted the events in your head. "Let's go."

The car ride was silent save for the low radio filling the space. You barely let Zayne put the car in park before you flung the door open and beelined straight for the bathroom. You practically ripped your clothes off leaving a trail from the front door to the bathroom.

Zayne leisurely trailed behind, locking the door, closing the blinds, and picking up your discarded clothes. He found you already in the shower, steam fogging up the glass door and mirror. He could see you viciously scrubbing your body as if you were trying to remove it all together.

Something was very wrong, Zayne opened the shower door to find you distraught and shaking. As you stood there with tears running down your face Zayne grabbed your wrist halting your movements. Your tearful gaze snapped up meeting his concerned eyes and furrowed brows. "Are you trying to hurt yourself?"

You shook your head as if trying to throw the memory out. "I have to get it off ... I need their touch off me ..." You'd rubbed your neck raw, a single drop of blood ran down your neck mixing with the water. "Let me help" Zayne whispered as he took the African net sponge from your hand and stepped into the shower still dressed in his button up and dress pants. "Zayne....your clothes...."

"This is not about me" You stood there silent as Zayne gently scrubbed your body working meticulously around your raw neck; that was going to need first aid. He held the shower-head to you body and rinsed the soap off while rubbing small circles with his thumb where the soap washed away.

Zayne stepped out first, leaving you under the cascade of warm water as he shed his wet clothes, quickly drying off and throwing a robe on and coming back to towel dry you off.

Securing the towel around your body he then scooped you up bridal style and sat you on the counter. The silence between you two was far from uncomfortable it was like a warm cup of tea on a rainy day.

Simply blissful.

Zayne dressed your wound and kissed your forehead. "Would you like me to leave now?" Your eyes bulged at his question and then you saw in his eyes how worried and unsure he was. "No stay. Please." He wasted no time changing into a pair of pajamas you kept for him and then dressing you. He laid down with, pulling you close and resting his chin on your head. “Do you still love me after what I had to do?”

“Without question”

Rafayel

Rafayel insisted on coming with you on your undercover mission. "I'll just be in the background you won't even know I'm there" You had no clue just how right he was. The night of your mission you couldn't spot him in the intimate club no matter how hard you tried. It was like he blended in with the air itself. So when you ended up back at the hotel you thought he’d abandoned you.

Once you were stumbling out of the room Rafayel was right there. He rubbed your back as you wretched into the trash can before wiping your mouth and lifting you up in his arms bridal style.

“Tell me what you want” He softly demanded as he gently folded you into the car. “A shower…..I feel disgusting” He nodded, closing the door and walking around to the drivers side. He played music and tried to engage you in some small talk, but you were having none of it. You gazed out the window with dead eyes rimmed with tears.

"It's okay I can walk" You told him when he offered to carry you on his back. Instead he walked with you, one hand on your lower back as he guided you to the bathroom. He placed a towel for you into a towel warmer and stepped out while you showered.

You opened the shower door to find him standing there, towel in hand. You told him everything that happened as he towel dried you off. He showered you in praises as he moved on to moisturizing your body. Nothing sexual just reminding you of how good a job you did and how brave you were to be the one to do such a risky job. "Im surprised you still even want to touch me" You mumbled as you stared at the wall. "I want my touch to be the only touch you remember"

Rafayel stayed by your side until you fell into a deep slumber. Once your breaths were steady and you didn't stir in your sleep when he stood from the bed; he slipped out into the night. Since you had all the information you needed your suspect could simply disappear right?

Xavier

Xavier was quick to get you far away from that hotel as quickly as possible. "Did they hurt you?" He spun you around as soon as you two were back in your apartment. He quickly scanned your body checking for any kind of bruises or wounds. "Not physically" You mumbled, staring off seemingly in a daze.

Xavier's shoulders deflated at your answer he knew exactly what you meant. He didn't push you for anymore answers since the entire mission was recorded and will be in the debriefing tomorrow. "Let's get you cleaned up" You nodded mechanically as he squatted down to carry you on his back.

He gently placed you on the bathroom counter and held your chin while he brushed your teeth for you. As soon as you spit he was tipping a cup of mouthwash into your mouth; while you swished that he wiped your makeup off. Xavier couldn't help but stare at you lovingly while you avoided eye contact ashamed of what you ended up doing.

Gripping your hips he pulled you from the counter setting you on your feet. You didn't fight him as he stripped you down and then himself. He showered with you in silence, gently scrubbing your body hoping his touch would help relax you.

It did.

You didn't look at him until he was pulling a pajama shirt over your head. His eyes lit up as you scanned his face "There she is" he whispered, cupping your face. You held onto his wrists as a few tears spilled from your eyes. "Am I still special to you?" Your voice cracked as you shook from the memory of what transpired just over an hour ago.

"You're everything to me"

Sylus

You needed to leave you slipped out amongst the chaos of your team coming in to collect the suspect. You rushed out of the hotel, your feet moving faster than your brain could keep up. You fumbled with your phone trying to call Sylus, but your hands were shaking too bad. Suddenly you heard a familiar sound coming from above you.

It was Mephisto! You looked up to see him circling above you before taking off north. You chased after him knowing he would be leading you straight to Sylus. You were running for what felt like forever, taking turn after turn always keeping Mephisto in sight.

Then you finally saw him. His tall frame at the end of the street. You sprinted as fast as you could throwing yourself in his arms. He swung you around holding you tightly to his body. "How'd it go?" his question was met with low sniffles and tears as you buried your face in his neck. "Main suspect is in custody. Can we go back to the N109 Zone now I don't want to be here anymore" You hug him tighter in hopes that the feel of him will dissolve the memory of the mission.

Once you got back to Sylus' home he didn't let your feet touch the ground until you were in his ensuite bathroom. He turned on the shower testing the water before turning to you. "Strip." was all he said and you listened. You shed each piece of clothing and placed them in his outstretched hand. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Dispose of them obviously" He held them with his evol as he held the shower door open for you. "Take your time and only change into that robe I'll have something for you fit for a queen." You didn't understand why he only wanted you in a robe. "I'm not really up for sex tonight Sy"

"I never said anything about sex Princess" His expression was soft as he nodded his head towards the shower. You stepped inside more than ready to wash away that strangers touch. You took your time even went as far to simply stand under the water and let the warmth engulf you.

You stepped out, following orders of not dressing and simply slipping into the plush robe that was left on the counter for you. Sylus wasn't in the bedroom when you came out leaving you confused. You turned to see Mephisto studying you before screeching a loud caw and flying out the door. You followed behind him and he led you to the other side of the house to a room that looked like an in-home spa.

There Sylus was sprinkling the last of a few rose petals into a large jacuzzi bathtub. "Why is this all the way on the other side of the house?" Your brows furrowed as Sylus circled around you, shutting the door and guiding you to the tub.

"This side of the house is quieter" He untied your robe and let it pool around your ankles. "I drew this bath so you could relax I could feel how tense your body was and still is" He held your hand as you climbed in and relaxed against the bath pillow. You instinctively closed your eyes and hummed as the jets massaged your body.

Your eyes snapped open when you heard something being set down and your arm being pulled from the bath. Sylus had pulled up a small stool to sit next to you. He'd rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and was now massaging your hand; making his way up your arm.

Sylus took his time massaging your entire body while you soaked in the tub. He hummed off-key with the softest smile on his face. "I don't deserve you" You whispered.

"You deserve the world, the sun, and the moon My Queen"

[milf-murdock]

The Accident

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Simon gets the call that you’ve been in an accident and are in the hospital.  Warnings: Health scare, mention of hospitals, accident (non graphic), brief mention of injuries (non graphic), hurt/comfort, Soft Simon  A/N: This piece is dedicated to a very sweet anon who has been through a lot. Anon, I hope this brings you some comfort <3 I’ve also decided to submit it to @glitterypirateduck's May Writing Challenge! This is one of my favorite tropes, so I hope you all enjoy! Special thank you to @sim0nril3y for taking a look and for all the support

The knife glides effortlessly through the tomato, the metal utensil familiar in Simon’s grip. He makes quick work of the produce, fingers moving rapidly and precisely. “Knife skills aren’t just for the field,” he chuckles to himself as he adds the chopped remains to a bowl before turning his blade on a shallot. 

Just as he slices into the root, the clattering vibration of his phone against the countertop interrupts. Simon frowns at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. Not many people had this number; he wasn’t one to get stray phone calls, which is exactly how he likes it. He has half a mind to send it to voicemail, but something tugs at his edges. At the last second he swipes across the screen and raises the phone to his ear. The line is empty for a moment. 

“Simon?” The sound of your hoarse voice has Simon’s spine straightening, instantly on high alert. 

“What’s happened.” The sharp words come out more like a statement than a question. Simon’s heartbeat quickens. 

“I’m okay,” you start, but your wobbly voice betrays you. "But there was an accident—" Simon is in motion. Dinner is forgotten on the counter as he heads for the door, stepping into his boots on the way. 

“Where are you?” There’s a commotion in the background, some kind of beeping that Simon can’t make out. He catches your hesitation as you wait to reply. 

“Love. Where. Are. You.” His words are clipped, and for a split second he fears the phone might actually splinter in his hands given how hard he’s clenching the device. 

“I’m in A&E. I—the ambulance just brought me here.” 

Simon’s world tilts before him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in deep. One single stabilizing breath is all he allows himself before opening his eyes, resolute determination clear on his face as a decade of training takes over. 

“I’m on my way.” The phone clicks off as he grabs the keys off the hook by the door and rushes to the car.

The drive is a blur; he doesn’t pay attention to how fast he’s going, or what color the stoplights may be. Traffic laws are relative—he’s a man on a mission. His sole focus is getting to you. His heart pounds in his chest as he navigates the final turn, the hospital finally coming into view. 

The car barely comes to a full and complete stop at the entryway before Simon’s door flies open. 

“Sir, you can’t park here!” A disgruntled attendant calls out to him as he exits the vehicle, but Simon doesn’t even slow down, stepping around the irritated employee before barreling through the hospital entrance. 

Only to be brought to a halt at the open lobby before him. 

Shit. He hadn’t even thought to ask what room you were in. The frustration intertwines with the panic, and Simon has to force it down. 

He’s here. He’ll find you. 

And so Simon finds himself at the mercy of the kind, elderly receptionist, who seems to be taking her sweet time locating your information. 

Simon tries not to crack the counter beneath his grip, foot tapping against the ground in irritation. You could be in surgery, you could be bleeding out, any number of things could be happening right this moment, and there is nothing he can do. Simon silences these thoughts, keeping the panic at bay. “Keep it together, lieutenant,” he reminds himself silently. 

The receptionist, Shelley, her name tag reads, is unfazed by his erratic state, eyes squinting as she adjusts her glasses and leans back from the screen. Simon runs a hand down his face, using every ounce of self control he has to keep up a semblance of propriety. 

“Ahh,” Shelley announces triumphantly. “Here they are! I found them.” She turns her gaze to the hulking man in front of her, taking in his large form and tentatively eyeing the tattoos along his forearm. “Sorry, what was your relation to the patient again?” She asks, a note of uncertainty laces her tone. 

“I’m—” he hesitates. No words come to the tip of his tongue. He’s not a boyfriend for christ’s sake. Not your husband, though he wished more than ever he could use that word right now. 

“Spouse? Partner?” Shelley raises an eyebrow, trying to help fill in the blanks here.

Simon swallowed hard. “Yeah, partner. Just, can you tell me where they are? Please.”  

He’s not sure what comes over him as he tacks on that final plea. The desperation is clear in his words, but he couldn’t care less. Fuck it, he is desperate. Desperate to see you. Desperate to know you are okay—see it with his own eyes, feel your hands in his. 

Shelley’s pointed gaze turns to one of sympathy. “Room 315, dear. The lift is to the right.” 

The words are barely out of her mouth before Simon’s in motion once more. No time for the lift, he thinks to himself as he heads to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. Brown eyes frantically scan every room number as he searches for yours before finally finding the correct digits outside the room furthest down the hall. The metal of the door handle is cool beneath his touch as he pushes open the door, charging into the room.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, eyes frantically scanning your body, taking stock of each and every visible injury. He can hardly control the wave of emotions that threaten to pull him down as he takes in your bruised and bandaged appearance. 

They’ve already set your arm in a sling, and there’s a large bulk encompassing your entire right leg, the bulk of it obvious even under the thin hospital blanket. An array of cuts and scrapes mar your perfect face, and the sudden onset of pure, unadulterated rage threatens to swallow him whole. 

‘I’m going to kill them,’ the words echo in his mind–a dozen violent deaths planned out for whoever did this to you. 

“Simon,” your hoarse voice calls out to him, but he can’t hear you over the sound of the roaring in his head. 

‘I’m going to hunt them down. And I’m going to fucking kill them for this.’

“Simon,” you say his name louder, firmer, and attempt to sit yourself up. Pain radiates through your body, piercing through the haze of pain meds, and you can’t help the cry of pain that escapes your lips. 

That is what pulls Simon out. On instinct, his feet move towards your bed, hand reaching out to clasp around your free hand. 

Your lower lip trembles. “Simon.” The word is pitiful on your lips–a plea, a prayer, a cry for help. 

It’s enough to pull Simon from the depths of this rage–revenge can wait. 

“I’m here.” Simon’s voice wraps around you like a warm blanket, and the dam breaks, tears flowing fast and freely. “It was awful,” you gasp out between sobs. Simon makes soothing shushing sounds as he holds your hand tight in his own, his other hand reaching up to gently brush the tears away, taking care to avoid the scrapes that litter your skin as you recount what details you can remember of the accident. 

“Shh, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “‘M sorry I wasn’t there, babe.” Bile threatens to rise in the back of his throat as the guilt settles in.

“Should’ve been there, should’ve never left your fucking side.” He stares at the layers of gauze wrapped around your leg, hidden beneath the thin blanket. 

“Simon. Look at me,” you insist, waiting for those brown eyes to turn back to you. “Don’t go down that road, Si. There was nothing you could have done to stop this.” 

“You don’t know that,” he bites back. Simon immediately regrets the harshness of his note. “You don’t know that,” he tries again, softer this time. “Should’ve been there.” He runs a hand over his face, the adrenaline is fading, causing the events of the past hour to finally catch up to him. He exhales sharply and looks back up at you, eyes determined. 

“But ‘m here now. It’s over. I’m here.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “And I’m not going anywhere, love.”

True to his word, Simon stays by your bedside the entire three day stay in the hospital. He denies your pleas to go home and sleep in his own bed, insisting on sleeping in the rough, uncomfortable hospital recliner. Not only was the furniture laughably small for a man of his stature, but after the first night, Simon is convinced it was designed as some kind of long-term-torture device. Not once does he complain though, dismissing your worries with a casual wave of his hand. “Slept in worse conditions in the field, love. This beats a forest floor.” Though by night two, Simon isn’t so sure. 

He’s always struggled with nightmares, but those nights in the hospital, his dreams turn to something worse: losing you in a car accident. The scene replays over and over in his mind’s eye until he’s woken up with a start, covered in sweat, and gasping for air. His eyes instantly lock on to the vital signs monitor above you, watching the thin green line of your heartbeat bounce up and down in a steady rhythm. He slows his own breathing down to match pace with yours, staring down at you as you sleep soundly. He watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest, further confirmation that you’re alive. 

When he finally gets to bring you home, he acts as though you’re made of fine china, driving ten under the speed limit. He carefully guides you into the house, hands ready to catch you as you struggle with the metal crutches. 

“Fuck,” you spit in frustration. “They made it look so easy in the hospital.” 

After the second time you almost trip over them, Simon’s exasperation gets the best of him. 

“Easy, swee’heart,” he implores, a note of desperation in his voice. “Just got you back, yeah? Can’t have you goin’ right back to A&E.” 

He wishes more than anything he could just scoop you up into his arms and carry you straight to the bedroom, but with your leg in its current state, he has to settle for just hovering, perpetually at the ready to catch and support you. He swears the walk from the car to getting you settled in bed takes an entire year off his life. 

That first night back at home together, Simon lays awake, watching you sleep. The combination of finally being back in the comfort of your own bed, along with the lack of obnoxiously loud machines beeping and being encumbered by wires, means you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow. Simon lays beside you, as close as he dares to get, still so weary of your injuries. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your temple, just above where a deep cut runs down your face. His finger hovers just above your skin as he traces the shape. “‘M sorry, love. I promise, I’ll take care of ya. This won’t happen again.” His words are barely above a whisper, drowned out by the soft snores of your breathing. He presses one more gentle kiss to you before turning out the light. 

[sjyuns]

BE MY VALENTINE?┆ A PARK SUNGHOON SMAU

SYNOPSIS! it’s the month of love, yet you only have one thing in mind — to get your crush to like you back. armed with a mission, you deploy your best friend Park Sunghoon as your fake boyfriend to make him jealous. one tiny problem, Sunghoon’s desperately in love with you and he can’t seem to keep his own jealousy at bay.

GENRE! best friend! sunghoon x fem reader, sunghoon being a simp and a loser, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff, humour

CAUTION! inappropriate jokes, cursing, bad edits, TBA

MIKAELA’S! a hehe fic if i may cause hoon is officially on my bias list. gonna be pretty short (15 chaps?) cause i have commitment issues😓

PROFILES

ONE. ho + me = home

TWO. that’s the sky

THREE. mucus crap

FOUR. ode to bro(mance)

FIVE. you have awtysm?!

SIX. playground to play

SEVEN. diddly double date

EIGHT. constipation

NINE. garage band king

TEN. for sale at $9.99

ELEVEN. aisheteru

TWELVE. what the sigma

THIRTEEN. ladies please

FOURTEEN. she’s my valentine

START! 240201 END! 240613

TAGLIST! CLOSED. the end

© SJYUNS

[crudlynaturephotos]

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Two | Bradley Bradshaw

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell. age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Bradley rents a bungalow about twenty minutes from base, towards the south of the San Diego bay. He explains, on the drive there, while she is hugging an overnight bag of her things, that he’s been renting it from this sweet old lady for the past four years — but he’s only been living in it for about three quarters of that time, with deployments.

He talks a lot. Shooting halfway amused looks across at him every now and again as he talks over his music, explaining his entire rental history, Avery just lets him go on and on.

Maybe he’s worried that the silence will give her room to start tearing up again, but she knows that won’t happen — it was already a rare occurrence, just the once. 

She lets him talk. He doesn’t seem to mind how much attention she’s paying either. Anything other than silence is fine, even if he’s the only one filling it.

The respite comes when he parks in the driveway, hops out, and proudly displays the home to her. It’s white all over and covered in plants, all up the driveway and over the porch. There’s a surfboard sitting on the porch, waxed up and looking ready to go.

Inside is masculine and simple, and spotless. It looks more lived in than Maverick’s place, but in an exceptionally organised way. 

Just past the front door, he has an organised entryway with a closet and one of those shoe racks that looks like an end table. 

Beyond that, his living area is all open plan. His kitchen is to the left right as you walk in, and the living room is the clear focus. He’s got a big grey sectional pointed at a big tv with a stack of video games beside it.

He doesn’t ask her to take her shoes off by the door, but she copies politely when he kicks his off. 

That leaves her, blue and white tube socks, toeing against the chewed up corner of the area rug while he busies himself with fixing the few things he deems to be out of place. 

Itching to keep moving, she prods at the fabric, examining the teeth marks, wondering where the dog must be.

“Oh— that was my ex-girlfriend’s dog. I’ve been meaning to buy a new rug.” He explains, furrowing his brows at the spot as he tosses a throw pillow down onto his soft looking grey couch. “Um — so, I do have a guest room, but it’s kind of a gym right now. You can just make yourself at home, and I’ll go get everything out of your way.”

“I can take the couch.”

“No, no, you deserve some privacy at least. I’ll just be a sec — I have sodas and beers in the fridge, glasses are in the cabinet to the right. Help yourself.” He’s a good host, and a better one than she had been yesterday, considering that Maverick’s place is now technically her own.

As he heads for the long, stretching hallway, she shoots a look back down at the mauled rug. With how spotless the rest of this place is, he must have really liked that girl to let her bring her dog here, and to let it chew up his stuff.

She wonders, aimlessly, if he was mad about it. If they argued. If they broke up long ago.

Avery hasn’t had too many relationships of her own. Some mediocre sex and a couple of couch-based movie dates here and there, nothing to write home about. 

She sits cautiously, sinking into the pillowy cushion of the couch, taking the time finally to really look around her. The space is bright, with big windows all around and a view of the bay. There’s a sun catcher dancing from the curtain rod, casting rainbows across his wooden floors.

Maybe his ex had bought that, too.

The bungalow is small, but it fits all of his belongings with an abundance of space left. Avery thinks back to her father’s place, always cluttered and spilling over with junk, treasure from his years of travels.

Maybe Bradley is a little bit less sentimental about keeping things.

He rattles around in the room at the end of the hall for a while, huffing occasionally. While waiting on the couch, she considers getting up and offering to help a few times, but ultimately convinces herself against it.

“Alright! Fresh sheets and some space to move, there’s still a bunch of stuff in there but I tried to get it out of your way.” He comes strolling back down the hallway and drops down onto the couch at her side, letting out a heavy sigh.

She screws her mouth up a little, looking across at him while he rests his eyes, long, dark eyelashes brushing his warm cheeks. His long legs, covered by worn denim, stretch out far enough that he has to bend them around his coffee table.

When one hand comes up to card through his mussed curls, she catches sight of the tattoo inked across the expanse of his bicep. LXXXVI. ‘86. She starts to think on it, letting him enjoy his moment of peace, when he shifts and startles her enough to drag her eyes away from his flexing arm.

“Thanks, for everything,” Avery manages to still sound a little cautious in her tone, even when she’s rushing to speak. “Staying last night, driving me around today, letting me stay with you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiles without opening his eyes, reaching out and letting his hand pat skim across the seam of her jeans, patting at her knee platonically.

“Any time.” He breezes, cool. 

The first night is uneventful. Avery sleeps restlessly on the futon in Bradley’s spare bedroom, turned home gym. 

She pretends that she doesn’t see the numbers on the sides of the weights, and pretends also that she doesn’t give a little bit of her imagination to the way that tattoo must move when he lifts them.

When she wakes up, Bradley is gone and there is a note on the kitchen counter explaining that he went for a run. He was gone for two hours, trying to run far enough that the sick, hot, thudding feeling in his chest would stop.

Back at the house, Natasha stops by and spends the afternoon. She lets herself into the place with her key, which sits on her own keychain like she’s had it for a while. Watching a sitcom from the armchair while they sit beside each other on the couch, Avery notices that the two of them are very close.

She wonders if Natasha happens to have a dog.

Sleep doesn’t come any easier for either one of them the second night. When he finally catches sight of the red, flashing declaration on his alarm clock that it is now 2:01am, Bradley gives up.

He tries to be quiet as he’s getting up, careful not to wake Avery. They’re in much closer quarters in his place than they had been back at Maverick’s house, her door is right opposite his across the narrow hallway.

He pads down the hallway, rubbing at his eyes, tossing up whether he’s going to try to drink something warm and go back to bed, or if he’s just going to stay up. He can’t keep not sleeping.

He almost heads straight for the kitchen, freezing in his tracks as he finally takes note of the blue light coming from his living room, and the sound of women’s voices. It takes him a second, even though he’d been being so considerate on her behalf, to remember that he has a guest over.

“Ave?” He mumbles. 

The TV immediately falls silent. She winces from her spot on the couch, craning her neck to try to see him at the edge of the hallway.

“Just me. I’m sorry! Did I wake you?” She sounds worried. He’s still half asleep. 

He shakes his head as he steps out from the shadows and heads for his kitchen. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be up. I couldn’t sleep.”

He passes by pretty quickly, concealed behind the kitchen island in just a few steps. Still, she saw him. Illuminated only by the light of the television, wearing a tight pair of black boxer briefs and dog tags around a silver chain. Long, muscled legs and tapered hips. 

Sure, he was good looking before, and clearly fit — but she wasn’t expecting what had been under those slightly loose t-shirts.

Her mouth is dry as she mumbles out a soft, “Me either.”

“D’you want a tea?” He stands with her back to her now, reaching around in the darkness of his kitchen. She stares, unblinking, at his back.

“You drink tea?”

“Sometimes,” He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s not weird.”

Her lips almost quirk, and she gives him a confirming shake of her head. “I didn’t say it was. Do you have green tea?”

He scoffs without looking. “Of course I have green tea.”

This whole lack of sleep thing isn’t new to him. It comes with the grief, but it’s there even when he feels like he isn’t grieving anymore. Since he was a kid, Bradley has had thoughts that keep him up at night, thoughts bad enough to stir him from peaceful, pleasant dreams.

He’s tried every tea in the catalog.

He carries the two mugs across the living room without once noticing the way he’s been stared at. He sets hers down on a cute little wicker coaster on his coffee table, walking past and dropping down onto the corner of the sectional.

His legs stretch out and he shifts and twists until he finds himself comfortable. “What’s this?”

She sets her gaze steadily on the television, her hands in her lap, wondering if he’s this brash with all of his house guests. With a swallow, she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, it’s just this TV show about a columnist in New York in the nine—“

“Are you explaining Sex and the City to me?” Bradley sounds bewildered, his face stark as he stares at her across the couch. Avery’s lips tug at a smile, and she almost forget the nerves she’d been feeling.

Until, the light from the television catches on the silver of his dogtags. Her gaze drops, like a flicker, to his bare, toned chest — and she swiftly looks back to the television.

“You’ve seen it?” She asks softly.

He’s beyond good looking. He’d always been okay looking, he’d had a nice smile in all of those pictures she had seen. But now, the roundness of his cheeks is gone and he has grown into his nose, his lips are a shade of pink that would be a bestseller in cosmetics. 

Avery curses herself; she had been pretty successfully pretending not to notice that he had gotten good looking. Then, he comes strolling down that hallway and making her tea from his apparently extensive collection, having the nerve to sprawl across his own couch looking like that. 

Across from a girl who hasn’t seen any action in the better part of a year too. 

She almost scowls. 

“Every episode,” He answers gleefully. At first, she thinks of Natasha or that mysterious girlfriend with the badly behaved dog. Then, he adds, “This was my mom’s favourite TV show, ever.”

And suddenly, she feels a little guilty for acting like those muscles make him some kind of ladies’ man. Just because the rest of them have been, she guesses. 

Bradley seems like a nice guy. He slept in a bed clearly meant for a child all night last night, and he let her take the first shower this morning, he chased her across the parking lot and offered to fix all of her problems in one fell swoop. 

Maybe that’s because of some kind of debt he thinks he owes to Pete, and maybe it’s just because that’s the kind of man he is.

She glances across, watching him chuckle at a classic Samantha one-liner and take a sip of a raspberry herbal tea. Wrinkling her nose, she settles back down into the spot she had been relaxing in, and lets herself zone out again. 

They watch a couple of episodes. Unlike earlier, Bradley doesn’t feel the need to talk. He likes the quiet, mixed with their frequent chuckles. It’s an okay thing, to not have to fill that silent void. 

Avery is the first to excuse herself to go back to bed, and she hasn’t once mentioned his little Calvin Kleins or the way they make his thighs look. 

As she walks away, Bradley catches himself. He hadn’t much thought about what she might wear to bed, or what she’d been wearing when he first sat down with her. Her hips wiggle in her stride, her fitted pyjama shorts hugging her ass as she heads for the guest room. 

The material of her loose t-shirt is tucked in at the back. Those cotton shorts hug her hips and show off just the tiniest glimpse of her round ass, from where they have ridden up a little.

He looks away before she’s even out of view, but it doesn’t change what he had been thinking. She’s Pete’s kid, for gods’ sakes. Not much of a kid anymore, but still, it wouldn’t be right.

Man, Maverick would hate it, too. 

Bradley wishes, silently, that he was here to scold him. Pete would square his shoulders and get that rare and serious look on his face, warning Bradley to keep his hands to himself. And Bradley would smile and taunt him, saying, “Don’t worry, Mav, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

With her dad gone, it just makes it worse.

These next few weeks are going to be hard, and the least he could do is think with his head to keep things simple between the two of them. He heads back to bed late enough for it to almost not be worth it. 

He wakes to the sound of chaos over the comms, that same last conversation, those snowy peaks behind his eyelids. 

Mouth dry, heart thudding, his eyes are still shut when he stumbles out into the hall and twists the bathroom door handle. It jams, and he remembers. The sounds of water coming from behind the door stops abruptly.

Peeking her head around the shower curtain, already wincing, Avery calls back out to him. “Sorry! I’ll just be a second!”

“No — sorry, take as long as you want.” He calls back, shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. Restless and anxious, he splashes cold water across his face and thinks about Pete.

He saw Mav do this insurmountable times. He remembers all of the mornings that Mav would wake up gasping, shaking, and he would head straight for the bathroom, bolting the door. He’d come back out okay again. He wonders if Mav still did it, even all these years later.

If he still heard Goose’s voice through the comms, calling him out of his dreams. 

The thought makes him shudder. The bathroom door unlocking makes him flinch, looking up sharply. 

Avery steps out of the bathroom, her hair still dry and tied back, droplets of water still beading along the skin and flowing under the plush blue towel she had taken from the linen closet. He had told her to help herself, but he’s staring at her now and she’s second guessing herself.

He stands at his kitchen sink, his hands braced against the countertop, his knuckles white. She barely even notices his little Calvin Kleins. Her brows knit together as she takes a step toward him, barely visible around the corner.

“Hey… are you okay?” Her face creases with concern, lingering in the hallway so that he can see her just enough.

He remembers to let go of the countertop.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, unconvincingly, reaching up and shaking a hand through his tangled curls. He takes a second, trying to gather his thoughts enough to keep the conversation moving. “Were you still thinking you’re gonna need a job while you’re here?”

She blinks, her scrunched up face relaxing as she takes another step closer, cocking her head at him.

“Um, yeah. I think so.”

He nods. “Get dressed. We’ll go see my friend in a bit, can see if it’s something you might be interested in. Maybe, then we’ll take your car to a mechanic this afternoon.” 

Out of the house, he feels like he can breathe again. It’s just sleeping, that’s all. When he’s really awake, he can control it all a little better, it doesn’t get to him as much.

He drives the same way he had yesterday. Three fingers around the bottom of the wheel, seventies music playing. Today, the windows are down. Avery makes a pretty good passenger — she doesn’t ask him to change his music and she doesn’t put her head in the way when he’s trying to check his mirrors.

Mainly because she isn’t once watching the road, but that’s okay. 

She looks around the city like she’s seeing it for the first time. Mav lived her for longer than she’s been alive — and the entire place seems foreign to her.

Bradley knows both of his parents’ hometowns like the back of his hand, and he still hasn’t ever lived in either one of them. 

“Did your dad ever tell you about Penny?” He asks so calmly, drumming his fingers along the wheel, Ray-Ban caravans sitting across the bridge of his nose.

The look that Avery shoots him gives him more than enough of an answer. She sets her phone down in her lap and studies him, frowning slightly.

“Who’s Penny?”

Shit. Bradley shakes his head and his voice pitches up a fraction. “Oh, she and Mav were just good friends for a long time.”

A product of one of Maverick’s ‘good friendships’ herself, Avery doesn’t need Bradley to explain to her what that means. It makes her a little less excited to get to wherever he’s taking her. 

With one quick glance across, he catches the little frown settling across her lips.

“She owns that bar on Breakers Beach. We drove past it yesterday when we saw Admiral Simpson?” Bradley prompts her, glancing across at the passenger seat. She nods along. “I texted her yesterday and she really wanted to meet you, said you can have some shifts there if you want them.”

Avery wrinkles her nose, trying not to frown across at him when he’s doing his best to just be helpful.

“What? — What’s that look?” He prompts, looking across at her with an amused smile toying at his lips. 

“She’s like a long time ago ex, right? She wasn’t dating Pete recently?” 

Bradley thinks on his answer for a moment. He isn’t surprised that she figured out there was something between Mav and Penny, he would have figured it out too.

But, he had heard of Mav’s experience with Penny Benjamin a long time before he had actually gotten to meet Penny Benjamin. Really, he’s surprised to find that Avery has never heard of her, she and Mav were really on and off for quite a while.

He guesses that Mav kept that kind of thing from her.

Which means that he would want Bradley to keep the fact that he had seen Mav and Penny leave the bar together three times in the weeks leading the mission to himself too.

“Yeah. Like a long time ago.” He confirms.

“Alright, okay — yeah, this’ll be good,” Avery sounds more like she’s giving herself a pep talk than like she’s replying to him. He shoots her a smile and a nod anyway. “Thanks, again, by the way. You’re cool for setting this all up.”

Cool. Not the kind of compliment he’s usually searching for from a pretty girl, but he’ll take it.

Reaching across the centre console, he gives her knee a quick squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mitchell.”

Briefly, his palm lingers there. It’s just because he’s focusing on turning into the parking lot, but it’s still his large palm hugging the curve of her knee for a minute longer than it should have.

Completely over the thick protection of her jeans, but she stares at the touch anyways. Then, she dares to look back up at him. Totally relaxed as he pulls into a spot up front like it’s his own personal one. 

One more squeeze, and he takes his hand back and swings open the door. The parking lot is surprisingly busy for the middle of the week at noon.

 Avery follows him out of the vehicle, gingerly matching his pace as he heads inside. It’s once he’s spotted that she falters. 

“Rooster!” Someone even taller than he is comes marching up right away and throws his arms around Bradley. Bradley hugs him loosely, greeting him with an aloof but firm pat of the back.

“Payback.” He greets quietly.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you. How are you holding up?” His warm eyes bore into Bradley, his head bowed slightly and his voice sincere. He hasn’t spotted her yet.

“I’m alright,” Bradley sounds convincing enough, but this Payback guy hadn’t seen how rattled Bradley had looked this morning. “This is Avery.” 

Finally, Payback’s gaze flickers to the girl standing behind Rooster. Halfway tucked behind his shoulder, staring at him through her lashes, looking totally lost and sheepish.

“Mav’s kid?”

In the short time Bradley has known her, he knows that’s not the kind of response she would have wanted to get.

Swinging his arm out and throwing the heavy limb around her shoulders, Payback watches Rooster drag the stunned girl out from behind him and present her at his side. “It’d pay you to learn your new bartender’s name, Fitch.”

He’s looking Avery right in the eye, and he already can see that Bradley’s going to have to be reminded that not everyone likes the heavy handed approach to affection he can have.

Still, he smiles at her like he means it and nods his head respectfully.

“Already got it, it’ll be good to have you around, Avery.” 

A small smile works its way across her lips, grateful if not anything else.

“Nice to meet you.” She answers him quietly, stiff against Bradley’s side. He pats her back and urges her forwards.

“Here, this is Penny. Penny, meet your new bartender.”

Penny Benjamin is tall and striking, standing behind the bar with her eyes already on the new bartender. There’s a recognition and affection in the blue of her gaze that tells Avery she was lied to just a moment ago.

That’s a woman who cared deeply for Pete Mitchell.

It puts a bad taste in her mouth, a pit in her stomach, a sudden coldness about the possibility of this job. Even if just for a short time, for however long she’s here, she’s just going to be an extension of the man she had always felt so far from.

Penny cocks her head to the side, just a bit. Sure, she can see semblances of Pete in the girl across from her, but it’s the rigid, flighty look in her eyes that catches Penny’s attention. 

Across from her is someone with something to prove, and a character they’ve been playing for a long time now. That’s what feels most familiar.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Avery says stiffly, trying to sound like she means it. 

Penny nods, smiling. She glances towards Bradley, then back to the girl still tucked under his arm.

“You too. Let’s talk.” 

As Jimmy takes over the bar duties, Bradley’s left with the prospect of facing his friends when Penny and Avery disappear toward the back deck.

He scratches at the back of his neck, shooting one last look at the two of them over his shoulder, and wondering what he’s supposed to say to all of those guys. 

One by one, he could manage… but all in a group like that? — He hasn’t seen most of them since it happened. 

It’s Natasha that he can trust to catch his eye first, giving him that kind of look cautious parents give their kids when coaching them on a bike. She worries a lot for someone who swears that she doesn’t care about the meatheads she hangs out with.

He heads for her as coolly as he can manage, hoping that the other guys know not to give him a hard time today. They don’t, they never would. 

His therapist says it’s a defensive thing, the way he waits for people to say the wrong thing. When he’s hurt, he expects it, almost. He’s trying to get out of it. 

They can all give him credit for that.

Even so, it doesn’t take long for conversation to fade from small talk to the newest, most exciting subject.

“So, she’s staying at your place?” Natasha’s the first one to bring up the missing party, picking up on a comment about the two of them arriving together.

Bradley shakes his head and fiddles with his root beer bottle. “No, she’ll be over at Mav’s place once we get her car fixed up. It’s a real piece of shit, I don’t even know what they’d do to make it run any better.”

“Mav loves cars — and he lets her drive a shitbox like that?” It’s Javy who scoffs that out, the only one still talking about the Captain who had taken a shine to him in present tense. 

Bradley just shrugs. This isn’t the place to unpack whatever went down between Mav and Avery. He doesn’t know enough, even if he wanted to talk about it.

“She came all the way down here by herself?” Callie asks. She doesn’t say it, but she’s referring to the fact that her mother came all the way out to Lemoore to try to move her into the barracks like it was college when she was that age. 

Bradley shrugs again. He hasn’t heard much about Avery’s mom in the past twenty years, he isn’t even sure that he ever met her — certainly wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd. All he knows is the gossip he’d gotten from his mom when it was all going down. 

“How’s she doing?” Bob asks, his blue eyes deep and sincere as he searches Bradley’s face, knowing better than to ask the same question. 

“Okay, I think.” Bradley muses, thinking of how quickly Avery had questioned the recovery efforts yesterday. “I dunno how close they were, but it’s always gotta be hard. Just… trying to make it a little easier on her, I guess.” 

They all nod, slowly.

And then Avery comes marching back inside, her chin high and her hair a little wind-swept, making a beeline right for the closest thing she’s got to a friend in this town.

“Hey.” Bradley offers her a smile, and reaches out for her. His hand grazes the back of her bicep, and she smiles more genuinely than she has in the past two days.

“Hi.”

He catches sight of himself being watched, and takes a look back over Avery’s shoulder to find Penny looking. Her blue eyes flicker down to his hand on Avery’s arm. 

Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and Bradley’s mouth almost falls open. There’s no way she thinks that he’s hitting on Avery. He’s just being friendly.

Penny knows Bradley well enough to know that. He’s always been a very affectionate guy. Still, the look that she gives him is one that certainly, and silently, tells him to keep his hands to himself. 

He blinks, and finds his friends looking back at him expectantly. 

“So, you’re taking the job?” He checks, shaking off Penny’s watchful eyes and settling back into what he knows. Avery nods her head at him.

“Starting tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. That’s way soon. He’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t keep her up until four in the morning watching the misadventures of Carrie Bradshaw tonight. 

“Well, guys, say hi to your new bartender.” 

He brings the bottle of rootbeer back up to his lips and shoots a quick glance back over Avery’s shoulder. Penny stares back, unfazed, as he narrows his eyes back at her.

What does she know about anything, anyways?

…

[gallusrostromegalus]

Do you have a list of named cities/provinces/prefectures/etc from your TPOF(ATGIF) and AEIWAM fusion universe or do you just kinda make them up on the spot? You've mentioned a few, Los Osaka and Santa Hiroshima, but I'm fascinated by the concept of them.

I make them up as I go by Badly Translating Californian names to Japanese and Vice Versa, using established fusion names like from Big Hero 6 and Ace Attorney, portmanteau-ing smaller Californian and Japanese Cities with the aim of creating the most ridiculous sounding names possible. Examples include:

San Fransokyo Bay Area:

Massively Overpriced Silicon Valley Satellite Cities Takai ki, Yamaview, and Chūkan Mizūmi

The Three Saint Cities San Juku, San Buya and San Jose

Controversial Football team the Kashiwa Raiders

Farther down the coast:

Beautiful Ōkī Minami State Park, famous for it's Coastline and Condors

Fresno

Ō no yama, home of the World-Famous Kandzume wharf and Aquarium

Los Osaka Basin:

Saratogasaki, famous for it's Horse Races

Kanmuri Tani, famous for its Orange Farms

Bakersfield, infamous for being Bakersfield

Griffon Park in Hiiragi Shinrin, right below the big sign where the Golden Eagle-Mountain Lion hybrids sometimes hang out.

Los Osaka Castle, one of the oldest standing buildings in Nihofornia, which is really impressive given all the earthquakes, Kaiju Events and that time the Spanish took over it in the 1760's and in recognition of the fact that they absolutely should not have been able to do that, briefly renamed the fortress Mission Imposible.

Santa Hiroshima:

Ichigo's Karakura town is actually a Satellite city of Santa Hiroshima, located farther Inland, between the Asa Zoo Safari Park and Imo Hakuhen Rock.

[redheadspark]

I’m soooo excited!!!! really happy that the soul mate theme won. Can I please request no. 18 with azriel, thank you <3<3<3

A/N - I love this for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Set You Free

Summary - Being Soulmates with the Shadowsinger would bring pain, but also life too

Warnings - Mostly fluff with a hint of angst

As soon as Azriel closed the doors behind him, he knew he was going to be in a world of hurt. 

It wasn’t that he was wanting to get in trouble, given his track record as the Shadowsinger of Prythian.  He had to stay in the shadows and get all the information he needed.  Then again that meant he had to get his hands dirty every once in a while and find himself in tough spots.  This time though was supposed to be the opposite: get in and get out.  Even Cassian called this mission a simple “Walk in the Park”

It was no walk in the park.  

The small penthouse that Azriel shared with you, his soulmate of 500 years, was dimly lit with only the scattering stars in the sky and the hung crescent moon that gave a blue tint through the massive windows that overlooked the bay and Velaris.  Azriel looked at the living room, the worn couch that you brought with you from your first home, a massive blanket that was a mating gift from High Lady Feyre perched over the couch, and the lingering scent of the lavender candle that still had a lingering amber lit on the wick on the kitchen counter.  Azriel could tell you recently turned in for the night, but with a small look in the direction of the master bedroom, he noticed the light was still on since the light was escaping under the crack of the door.

He inwardly cringed, this was not how he wanted to see you tonight.

You knew his job at the Spymaster was tough and would have him be away 80 percent of the time.  It was a sacrifice you made taking him on as not just his soulmate but as his wife.  However, Azriel swore to you that he never wanted you to be pushed aside for his duties and his devotion to Night Court, to High Lord Rhysand even.  You came first in his life, and you saw it in the first few years of your marriage.  He eased back on the missions that were given to him and attempted to stay close to Night Court, merely to be close to you.  Not that you needed any kind of protection from him, you were an Illryian Warrior and grew up in the camps and fought for your life.  Azriel admired that about you, your spirit and the tough exterior that seemed to contrast your tender heart and kindness. 

He found himself profoundly lucky to have you as his soulmate, which was why he wanted to make sure to work hard for your relationship and marriage.

Creaking open the bedroom door, he poked his head in and saw you perched in the bed, sheets bunched around your lap, and a book in your hold as you were reading silently to yourself.  It was amazing really, seeing his mate reading a book and perched in bed like a common housewife when Azriel knew you were a fierce Illyrian that could throw any other soldier over your head with ease.  He’s seen you on the batter field, sword in hand and able to slay anyone in front of you.  

Yet there you were, reading a book and looking as content as ever.

“You’re not that good at lurking behind doors, my dear,” 

Azriel heard your voice slip through the room, making him chuckle as he finally amends into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.  He could breathe in the lingering scent of lemons and cinnamon, your unique scent that he craved and loved over the centuries.  Your long hair was in a loose braid over your shoulder, the longest it’s ever been that had hints of yellow and red mixed together.  Even the freckles along your cheeks and arms made you look radiant, almost a distraction that you would have to then eliminate your enemies.

Azriel had to admit, he would fall under your spell at any time from a simple smile.

“I thought I mastered it after 500 years of marriage,” Azriel joked as he toed off his shoes, you letting a giggle slip past your lips as you looked up from your book.  Your face which had a smile was now laced with concern from seeing Azriel’s appearance.  Slamming your book shut, you sat up in bed as your mate shrugged off his jacket, showing the scattering of bruises and a massive cut on his former that was near his scarred hands.

“What happened!” You asked in worry, “You told me that you would be safe and nothing would happen—“

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” He reassured you calmly as he walked over to the bed, sitting on the side and close enough for you to touch his wounds tenderly and look over every inch.  He hated having you fear for his safety, you both knew deep down that he could handle himself. But you still worried over him, it was in your nature to wish for him to not be harmed.  You’ve seen him look worse and almost on the brink of death, and although he looked minor, he was still your main concern. 

You felt it in the bond: Azriel telling you the truth.

“Any casualties?” You asked him, seeing him sigh and rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Just one from our camps, a new recruit that was too reckless for his own good,” He answered, you reaching over to lace your fingers together.  Being soulmates ultimately meant your intuition was linked as well: neither one of you could lie to the other.  Not that Azriel was a known liar, but he had to be persuasive with the truth every once in a while when he was on the job.  He would get away with it when it came to others, even other High Lords or those who had more power over him.

But with you, his soulmate, he could never lie.

There were plenty of fights in the past between the two of you, and the truth coming out about how you both were feeling almost brought your relationship to a halt a few times.  Scream matching or death glares, in the end, you both still loved each other.  Relying on each other’s truth did strengthen your love for one another.  It was not a burden but more of a blessing, you both being an open book to the other and not wishing to hide anything from each other.  It made you stronger and more in love with each other, even after centuries together and plenty of hours to bond.

“The threat is eliminated then?” You asked him nervously, Azriel smiling and kissing the top of your head.

“Yes,” he replied simply, you feeling it in the bond that he was truthful.  

“Good, and I take it you’re going to take the day off tomorrow?” You asked carefully, though you were softly smiling and the worry was gone from your lips and cheeks. Azriel nodded, kissing the back of your hand.  

“I already asked Rhysand for some time with you,” He reported, you grinning from ear to ear as he then gestured to the bathroom that was adjacent to your bedroom, “Wanna join me in washing away that filth I brought him?”

“As if you need to ask me,” You replied, throwing the blankets off your legs and tossing the book to the side.  Azriel laughed, taking your hand to guide you out of bed and you both literally ran to the bathroom.    You both loved being true to one another, even on the darker days and the days that were filled with worry and uneasiness.  In the end, it made your love for one another ten times better than before.

The truth always sets you two free.

The End

September Prompt Session

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 8 - More intimate than lovers ☄️

Tags : oblivious Ahsoka, injured Obi-Wan, lots of fluff

~~~

“Get out of the way ! Kriff, move !”

The poor assistant who had the extravagant idea of crossing the corridor with a cart full of medical products - doing her job - at the same time Anakin barges in, gasps loudly and pulls on the handle of her cart with all her strength, avoiding the running Jedi from a hair.

“I'm so sorry, General !” She squeals in horror, but Anakin is already too far away to hear her apologies.

He sprints down the hallway, the soles of his boots skidding and squeaking on the smooth ground at every turn. He's almost out of breath when he storms in the landing hangar, eyes wide as he searches for one specific spaceship.

The Negotiator is parked in the middle of the hangar, the main door already opened on the bridge where clone troopers are offloading some heavy crates.

“Obi-Wan !” Anakin calls, slipping through the crowd while his eyes are scanning the ship’s surroundings for the older Jedi. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s Force signature is very weak, too weak for him to locate him precisely, even when he tries to follow the thin golden thread of their bond.

“Damn it.” He swears when he can’t find him anywhere, panic slowly rising in his chest and curling around his lungs.

He runs to the bridge of the ship, searching for a familiar face, anyone who was on that kriffing mission and could tell him where Obi-Wan is.

“General Skywalker !” Someone calls for him from behind, making him turn around.

He’s relieved to be faced with Cody’s dark buzzcut and moon-shaped scar, someone who’s supposed to know where Obi-Wan is at all times. Someone so loyal Anakin trusts him with Obi-Wan’s life. Someone who knows him too. He doesn’t even need to ask questions, he just tilts his head to the left.

“He’s in the medical bay.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Anakin replies gratefully before running away to the new location.

He crosses the distance in less than five minutes, mumbling apologies every time he pushes someone on his way. Ahsoka is already waiting outside in the corridor, pacing left and right until she hears him coming like a tornado.

She winces and walks to him before he can storm in the emergency room, hands reaching out for him.

“He’s fine.” Is the first thing she says because she knows him so well. “You can't enter.”

Maybe she doesn’t know him that well after all.

“I don't care.”

“I know you don’t.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm when he reaches out for the door. “But you have to let the doctors do their job.”

“I need to see him.” Anakin breathes, removing his arm from his padawan’s grip, gently but firmly enough to warn her from not trying to stop him again.

Ahsoka considers him for a while, taking in his laborious breathing that couldn’t be blamed on his running only, his wide and scared eyes and the way his fingers twitched nervously, aggressively picking at the skin around his nails. He could have said he wanted to see Obi-Wan, but he didn't.

It’s a need. She truly realizes then.

“You’ll have to wait a bit.” She still says, gently taking his hand in his own. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s already too long.” Anakin groans, his signature hanging low like a menacing cloud around him in the Force.

“He's okay, Skyguy.” Ahsoka insists, intertwining her fingers with his own to prevent him from damaging his skin even more. “He was still talking when he was admitted. You know he's tough.”

“Maybe.” Anakin mumbles. “I should have been with him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time.” Ahsoka says patiently.

“Why not ?” Anakin huffs, and Ahsoka smiles before she understands it’s a real question.

“Because… Because you’re both really important for the Republic and we need you to lead our men. They can't afford to waste time by sending you both on the same missions every time.”

Anakin doesn’t answer but she can tell by his expression that he’s not satisfied with the explanation. She wonders how he manages to be separated from Obi-Wan so often on a daily basis. Not well apparently, given his current level of anxiety is through the roof.

She opens her mouth to reassure him when the emergency room’s door opens. A tall woman with very light blonde hair pulled tight in a perfect bun walks out with a fold in his hand.

“Ahsoka Tano ?” She asks, and Anakin uses this exact moment to slip through the door. “Eh, wait !”

“Sorry.” Ahsoka winces apologetically at the doctor. “He’s very worried.”

“Visitors are not allowed.” The woman says with pinched lips. “Is he family ?”

“Uh, kind of.” Ahsoka replies.

She thinks for a second about the right term to describe Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship and she realizes she has none. They’re closer than a Master and his former Padawan were supposed to be, more than friends, even closer than brothers. She never knew one without the other and she didn't wish to know.

“Kind of ?” The doctor lifts a delicate eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Yeah, well. You should thank me for still having a door, because Anakin doesn’t bother with that kind of details when it's comes to Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka smiles and bypasses her to enter into the room.

The sight she finds makes her stop on the doorstep with the impression of interrupting something precious she wasn’t meant to see. Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed where Obi-Wan lies with his forehead pressed against his, gently holding his hands as they whisper quietly to each other.

From where she is she can see that Obi-Wan is smiling, wide and bright in spite of the bandages around his chest and the blood covering one side of his face.

“Family, mh ?” The doctor’s voice resonates quietly beside her, making Ahsoka turn halfway.

“They’re very close.” She retorts, feeling defensive without really knowing why.

“I thought attachment was prohibited amongst Jedi.” The woman still continues but her tone is gentler than earlier, devoid of any judgement. “They look… Intimate.”

Ahsoka blushes at the implication and shakes her head.

“They’re not… It’s not like that. They just care a lot about each other.”

“Sure.” The doctor smiles before leaving her at the door to go check on the other patients of the room.

Ahsoka frowns, confused. She couldn’t find the right words to explain the very special bond between her two masters but it didn’t mean that it was like that woman implied. It couldn’t be. She would have noticed by now. Or whould she ?

She squints at the two Jedi still completely immerged in their own little world, talking to each other like they were all alone. She’s so used to this that she can't see it as anything else than Anakin and Obi-Wan’s normal behaviour toward each other. They’re constantly gravitating in each other’s orbit, looking for each other, touching each other, evolving like they’re in their own private bubble.

It can be annoying sometimes, sure. Especially when one of them comes back injured from a mission and she has to calm down and reassure the other. They might be a little bit obsessed with each other, alright. But it doesn’t hurt anyone, does it ? Caring deeply is not against the Jedi precepts, only unhealthy attachments. And when she looks at them what she sees, burning brighter than any star is-

Unconditional love. She thinks. That’s it. That’s what they have for each other.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, she walks to them, witnessing the way they turn their head at the same time to look at her. Anakin’s eyes and cheeks are a little wet but he does nothing to hide it from her. She takes it as a precious sign of trust.

“So…?” She smirks when she sits on the other side of the bed. “What is the score this time, Master ?”

Obi-Wan snorts and winces just after, putting a hand on his ribcage.

“Three broken ribs.” He sighs. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

“You forget about the concussion.” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “And the fact that one of your ribs punctured your lung.”

“Details.” Obi-Wan mumbles. “I’m fine.”

He looks back at Anakin’s skeptical expression, face softening with such tenderness that Ahsoka looks away with a blush.

“I’m fine.”

“You say that each time.” Anakin grumbles. “And each time you come back even more broken.”

“Jealous that I wear scars better than you ?” Obi-Wan teases, making Ahsoka laugh.

“At least you don’t look like a stupid pirate because you fell on the freshener, Master Kenobi.” She sneaks in.

“You little sh-” Anakin starts but he’s stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand on his mouth.

“Language, Padawans !”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and does something that makes the older Jedi retrieve his hand quickly while a little blush spreads on his cheeks.

Weirdos.

“Alright, I’m very glad to see that you’re doing fine, Master.” Ahsoka says before getting up. “I’m gonna go finish Skyguy’s report because something tells me he’s not going to move from here before a while.”

Anakin, very maturely, sticks his tongue at her.

“Look how I am rewarded for my generosity.” She complains to Obi-Wan, and the traitor has the audacity to laugh.

But not for long because he's quickly reminded about his broken ribs. Some calls it karma.

“Thank you for coming, little ‘Soka.” The older Jedi smiles softly once he’s done wincing in pain. “And for teaching this one some manners about breaking doors.”

“No problem, Sir.” She smiles, giving them both a little salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as she turns around she can feel their bond tighten again between each other in the Force. And if the reflection on the glass door makes it look like they’re sharing a quick, secretive kiss, it’s probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

[innocentsandsofdreams]

John Price x Reader Head Canons

Tags: soft Price, Price x Reader, reader is not gender specified, slight birth description, reader is higher rank than 141

Word Count: 826

Any ageless or minor blogs DNI

SFW

Honestly, how you and John got together was comical. Laswell had to call you in for help (against everyone's choice) and you came.

During the mission, you and Price was a squad and no one (not even the both of you) knew what happened

An explosion was set off and you and John were sent flying; you landed on each other and rolled down a hill and you eventually stopped. You're on top of Price laying on him, inches from his face. How movie cliche is that?

John remarks "You know, the least you could do is ask a man to dinner before laying on 'im"

"Well how about after this mission, you pick a restaurant and I'll pay", you say playfully.

John actually took you up on your offer -against everyone's groans of "cheap cliche".

Now 10 years later; having been married for five years, people start asking "Oh have you thought about starting a family?"

Well, both of you thought of it. Both of you didn't know how to bring it up. Finally, it came to a boiling point

On a date in a park, you and Price laid on a blanket in the grass

Just listening to the laughter of parents with their children, surrounding the both of you

Both of you blurt out, "Do you want to have kids with me?"

A moment passed and you both laugh. Elated both of you want the same thing.

Interested, John suggests you both go home and start trying

NSFW

He's an old school gentleman; walks you home and cooks you, dinner. Price just overall set the mood- what a standup guy™

Afterwards Price led you to the bedroom. He takes his time with you. After this, he tries to take his time, but it doesn't work out that way

Mans eats you out like a munch if you will. Live and die in between your legs like a three-course meal. Price swallow your juices like it was a desert oasis

John slowly fingers you, not wanting to stop eating you out yet

It takes you 2 orgasms and a lot of begging for him to come around and fuck you. finally

Putting multiple pillows under you; John puts your legs on his shoulders and starts driving his cock into you with a goal in mind

After relentlessly abusing your soppy hole, Price fills you with his cum and he is so horny happy just from the thought of it

Multiple trysts of deep fuckings and quickies, having been fucked one last morning before the sun came up; your efforts came to fruition

PREGNANCY

John has you go to a med bay and do at home pregnancy tests religiously until finally one of the at home tests came back positive. He was so thrilled, that to make sure, you guys got medically checked out and the tests do not lie my dearheart; you are with child

John supports you through everything with the pregnancy; the sickness, the fainting spells, the cravings, the emotions. He's just happy to be with you

All though he never judges (or at least tries not to) he really does side eye the ice cream and pickle juice

[inserts meme of the girl staring at the man's chest with big side eyes]

That being said, Price went through it all with you. For you

John loves you and his baby so much, if he could stop the world he would

Near the end of your pregnancy gets very distressed and never lets you do anything. He's on everything like a HAWK

Being so close to your due date, you thought the baby would be late; but no, you were so wrong

Your water broke a week early, in the early morning

It's 3AM and John thought you might have wet the bed. In all honesty you did too.

Then the contractions started and both of you realized it was the amniotic fluid

Price having over prepared the hospital bag, (since you guys were first expecting) took you to the closest hospital

You are screaming and squeezing the hell out of Price's hand (poor hand) as he's driving

Upon arrival John miraculously carried you inside and got you a room before even thinking of moving the car and grabbing the bag

After being situated John goes and grabs everything and then goes and park the car. Upon return, the man got everything you ever needed and more

Need to move around? Man is getting you up. Need ice chips? Already in hand

Eventually choosing the process of water birth, John got in with you, behind you of course so he can take care of you

Hours go by and finally the baby arrives in this world

Having you hold the baby for only a moment, John let the nurses take the baby and helps you out the tub

He helped you get dressed and helped with getting into bed before bringing the baby to you

Having held his baby, he can't help but crawl in bed with you and hold the baby between the two of you

(he's definitely not crying - lying)

Man is in for a treat ✨😌