#park avenue trail

[thorsenmark]

Discovering a True Southeast at Humboldt Redwoods State Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking the Founders Tree trail with a view looking to the southwest at nearby coast redwoods in Humboldt Redwoods State Park.

[rabbitcruiser]

Park Avenue Viewpoint, Arches National Park (No. 2)

As stated in the foundation document in U.S. National Park Service website:

The purpose of Arches National Park is to protect extraordinary examples of geologic features including arches, natural bridges, windows, spires, and balanced rocks, as well as other features of geologic, historic, and scientific interest, and to provide opportunities to experience these resources and their associated values in their majestic natural settings.

he national park lies above an underground evaporite layer or salt bed, which is the main cause of the formation of the arches, spires, balanced rocks, sandstone fins, and eroded monoliths in the area. This salt bed is thousands of feet thick in places and was deposited in the Paradox Basin of the Colorado Plateau some 300 million years ago (Mya) when a sea flowed into the region and eventually evaporated. Over millions of years, the salt bed was covered with debris eroded from the Uncompahgre Uplift to the northeast. During the Early Jurassic (about 200 Mya), desert conditions prevailed in the region and the vast Navajo Sandstone was deposited. An additional sequence of stream laid and windblown sediments, the Entrada Sandstone (about 140 Mya), was deposited on top of the Navajo. Over 5,000 feet (1,500 m) of younger sediments were deposited and have been mostly eroded. Remnants of the cover exist in the area including exposures of the Cretaceous Mancos Shale. The arches of the area are developed mostly within the Entrada formation.

Source: Wikipedia

[ozzgin]

Pyramid Head x Reader

Featuring Pyramid Head and a reader with amnesia lost in Silent Hill. This is Pyramid Head as originally intended for Silent Hill 2, so expect a lot of game-based immersion. Warning: NSFW, dubious/non-consent, violence, gore

[Horror Masterlist]

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

You grunt and slap the wheel, hoping your defiant act of violence will somehow convince the car engine to start again. It remains quiet. You run a hand through your hair and sigh. The palm is mildly sticky with moisture and you realize you've been sweating a fair amount. No wonder, you're stuck in this shithole. You couldn't see a damn thing ahead with all this fog. The only discernible object was a rusty, run-down sign showing "Silent Hill". You've never heard the name before, but reading the letters and allowing the words to escape your lips has brought you an unexpected wave of panic. You quickly began hyperventilating and your arms involuntarily twitched and twisted, pulling the wheel of the car along with them and causing the car to swerve into a street barrier. And now it refuses to turn back on. Fantastic. 

You hesitantly grab the door handle. After a deep breath in, you open the door and step out. Given the car crashed sideways, you can no longer tell which way is back and which way is forward. You can only see the first few inches of the barrier in both directions, but everything else vanishes under the thick clouds of mist. You rub your temples, becoming increasingly upset with yourself.  What were you even doing, driving all the way to-

Wait. Where were you going in the first place? You recall leaving from...home? But where is that supposed to be? No, don't do this. Not now. You walk back to the car and open the glove compartment, angrily pulling out a thick stack of documents and spreading them out onto the chair. You scan over them, growing more impatient. You don't recognize anything. The names and words and addresses don't hold any meaning. You glance up to the rear-view mirror in an attempt to detect some trail of blood seeping from your scalp, as a concussion might explain your sudden memory loss, but your appearance is fresh. Almost as if you didn't just crash your car in a strange place in utter confusion. 

You check your phone. Even if you can't remember, there has to be someone in your contacts that will come to your aid. The screen glitches briefly when you unlock it and the menu is empty. No contacts, no messages, no apps. No matter, emergency will do. You type in the digits and lift the phone to your head, but quickly remove it when loud static assaults your eardrums. Why is nothing working properly? You're tempted to just slam the junk into the pavement, but find enough composure to stuff it back in the pocket for now. 

All that's left to do now is to find another human. You begin walking. The road has to lead somewhere, that's for certain. And soon enough the barrier is replaced with a different kind of fencing that you use as guidance. It seems to be a small bridge. Just a few steps further and you discover the first signs of modern, populated world: a bus stop. Behind the waiting bench is a brief map of the area and you trace the plaque with your fingers, mumbling the path to yourself. "Now let's see...This is Nathan Avenue...Rosewater Park ahead...Ah, the Silent Hill Fire Station should be very close."

You can't wait to be done with this mess. They'll call for a tow truck and get you out of here. You almost sprint to the next block, expectantly. In fact, you can already spot someone right outside the building. 

"Thank God! Listen, my car broke down before the bridge. My stupid phone is also...huh." 

Just as you mention it, the same static as previously erupts from the speaker. You're startled and fumble for your phone. You're about to apologize to the person in front of you, but upon lifting your gaze you instantly stop in your tracks. 

'Person' is a strong word for it. It resembles one, or maybe it was one long ago. What's crawling towards you, however, is not how you'd define it. The arms are melted into the torso, mimicking a straight jacket of skin. The bony, crooked legs are dragging themselves in an unnatural, unnerving way. The creature has no face, save for a gaping hole, a bizarre cavity deforming what should be a head. Your mouth grimaces with disgust, followed by fear. Terror. You have the choice of returning to your damaged car, or attempting to find actual help deeper into the town. You run ahead, praying that someone's out there. The dissonant sound of a siren can be heard, diffused into the persistent fog.  

By the time you reach the next building, you're gasping for air. You didn't expect to run this far. You went all the way around Toluca lake, avoiding the side streets. The center was swarming with those abominations. Each turn and each corner would eventually reveal its revolting murmur, that pathetic shuffle of disfigured limbs. Thankfully they're not fast, nor smart. A little distance and they lose their interest to pursue you. You fall against the brick wall of this small house and read the poster. "Silent Hill Historical Society". Doesn't look too promising, but it's surprisingly devoid of any monstrous being. At this point you'd be more grateful for emptiness. It's safer. 

You tiptoe your way in, wary of potential attackers. There's a faint buzz echoing from afar, but other than that no immediate danger. You examine the lobby and notice the paintings and old photos hanging from the decaying wallpaper. It smells slightly rotten. One of the art pieces catches your attention and you stop in front of it. "Misty Day, Remains of Judgement". 

The abstract character depicted on canvas reminds you of an executioner. The more you stare, the clearer you can feel some kind of guilt knotting inside your stomach. Your shoulders are heavy and you're overwhelmed by the same anxiety of a child about to be punished. Awaiting the belt. The calloused hand of an unforgiving father. Your throat is dry.

Your musings are interrupted by the static that - as you've since learned - warns you of approaching creatures. The rooms are cramped and the walls are narrow and you dislike the idea of calculating your escape within this claustrophobic maze, but it's preferable to being dead. You jog along slithering paths, unsure of where they lead. The threatening turbulence of your phone goes up and down, like a sine wave, with each turn into uncharted territory. In your frantic efforts to flee you don't see the large hole blocking your way, or at least not fast enough. By the time you figure out the outlines of this pitch black well, you're flooded with the light sensation of gravitational force, stretching and compressing your innards as you fall. Is this how you end?

It's not so easy. 

As soon as you open your eyes, a burning pain metastasizes through the head, digging deep into your brain. You grab onto your scalp and press your fingers over the skin, hoping for a small relief. In your debilitating migraine you don't hear the agitated flutter of limbs. They're minuscule, but so many. Thousands of sclerotized joints frothing around your limp form. You lift yourself off the rusted ground and yelp voiceless at the sight. Cockroaches. The pile of vermin lets out a deafening, high pitched screech with every movement. You drag your elbows in an attempt to get away, but the creepers almost ignore your existence. They seem to be running away from something, retreating in masses.

You don't have to wait long in order to witness their source of fear. Heavy footsteps, muffled by the grating friction of metal against metal. A corroded stench invades your lungs and you cough. Whatever is coming has instilled the utmost dread in your very bones. You want to get up and run, until your legs give up and your body collapses of exhaustion, but your limbs are petrified in panic. Your chest constricts and throbs, as if your heart is trashing to escape this prison condemned to unknown doom. 

Finally, the fiend comes into view. A tall, large man wearing a leather apron layered with grime and encrusted blood. His skin is scarred and discolored, and a bulky, dense pyramid structure rests on his broad shoulders, concealing his face. He seems to be dragging along a great knife of sorts, although on closer inspection it looks like a halved pair of oversized scissors. The edge is dulled and has splattered visceral leftovers mattifying its surface. You remember the painting you've seen upstairs. Is this what it is? Your Retribution? 

You lower yourself until your forehead touches the rusty floor. Like an animal awaiting to receive the final blow from its hunter, like a prisoner resigning to his fate under the guillotine. If only matters could be dealt with so simply! Your neck is clawed into a tight hold by the large gloved hand and you're crudely pulled back up so that you can properly face your Punisher. There's a vague grunt coming from underneath his bizarre helmet. 

He carries you to the nearest wall and slams you against it. The great knife drops to the floor with a loud crash, and the other hand, now freed, begins to search your lower clothing. You can feel the seams of the garments tear and snap with no resistance. You want to vocalize a protest, but your throat is crushed under the forceful pressure of his clasp. At best, you can exhale in what sounds like a whispered wail. His apron is nonchalantly flipped to the side and your thigh lifted over his forearm, so that his hand can adjust itself securely under your bottom for support.

Abruptly, a prickling ache crosses your entire body as if you've just been split in two. Tears automatically begin forming in the corner of your eyes and spill down your cheeks and over the pyramid that's now pressing tightly against your quivering form. It's too big and you want to push away, but with each renewed plunge you grow weaker. The small tears and rips that blossom around your abused intimacy turn into bleeding wounds. You want to sleep. 

A creature of pure instinct, serving as a reminder of human perversions and immoral desires. Travesty, corruption, sin. And what about it? Before you know it, a small moan escapes your dried lips. You throw your arms around your captor's shoulders. The sharp edges of the helmet scratch your skin, waking you back into consciousness. Your lower muscles start to relax around the massive member and allow for a smoother glide in and out. The numbness is gradually replaced by pleasant sensations. The throbbing reverberates inside your abdomen and your other leg wraps around the creature's hips, asking for more contact. Once your compliance is confirmed, the hand pinning you by the neck wanders to other parts of your body in starved desperation. Your voice returns and more lewd whines roll out one after another. If only you had a mirror so you could look at yourself in this moment. What shameless expressions are you wearing on your face? You're clinging to your violator in feverish depravity. And in return, the creature responds to your cravings with increased intensity. He seems to resonate with your wishes and stiffens his hold on you with newfound obsession. His thrusts become almost feral, with a certain possessiveness to it. 

As you're about to reach your peaks, your mind once again travels to the painting. You wonder if you'd be hung and framed just like the prisoners behind their executioner. Pleasure mixed with guilt. 

What sin is eroding your entrails? 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Periphery

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: This accidental behemoth is based on this post and part of the lil fic triptych with The Worst Best Man (Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader) @tropes-and-tales Team Prime (Bob Floyd x Reader)

No physical descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.

Length: 11.1K

Warnings: Slowburn (i know, shocker); angst (I know, shocker); fluff; happy ending!!

Summary: You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy. 

“Alright, what have we got, what have we gooooot…” Bradley asked, turning the steering wheel and guiding the Bronco onto the avenue. 

“Let’s see,” You looked down your checklist. “Candy and labels for the favor bags?” 

“Check.” 

“Final payment for the florist.” 

“Check.” 

“Final payment for the cake.” 

“Check.” 

“Drop off the…Card-thingies for the seating placement at the venue.” 

“Place cards?” Bradley chuckled. 

“You knew what I meant. Only thing left is putting the favor bags together and we are set.” 

“Hell yeah. Up top.” 

You glanced over, smile widening when you spotted Bradley holding his hand up. You gave him a high five, chuckling as he crowed, “Boom! Dream team right here.” 

You leaned back in your seat, shifting a little bit. Bradley was certainly the easiest person you’d had to work with over the course of this wedding—bride and groom included. You’d met him a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy. 

“Oh—Shit,” Bradley muttered. 

“What is it?” You frowned. 

“No, nothing. I need to grab my tux,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Just remembered.” 

“Oh,” You frowned, glancing back as he drove past the shop. “Do you wanna go now?” 

“Uh…You sure?” He asked, raising his brows. 

“Yeah! The rest of my day’s clear, I don’t mind.” 

“You are a lifesaver,” Bradley swore, pulling his car into a parking spot. You waved him off, setting the checklist on the backseat of the car. 

“Hang on,” He warned. You frowned, shaking your head, then smiled as he rounded the front of the car, opening the door for you. 

“You’re such a gentleman, Bradshaw,” You teased. 

“I try.” 

He held the door open for you at the shop, too, and you tried not to get too flustered about it. But Bradley really was a gentleman. He’d shown you that repeatedly over the course of wedding prep, checking in periodically to see if you needed help with anything, or just to chat. 

He gave his name at the desk, nodding and offering his thanks as the attendant left to get his suit. 

“You get your dress yet?” He asked. 

“Yep. Picked it up earlier in the week.” 

“You are on it. I don’t know how you do it.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the bubble of flattery rising in your gut. “This isn’t my first wedding.” 

“How many times have you been a Maid of Honor?” 

“This is the…fourth time?” 

“Holy hell.” 

“I kinda like it,” You chuckled. “It was stressful the first time but the fourth time around, it’s sort of old hat, you know.” 

“Bradshaw?” The attendant called out, waving the two of you deeper into the shop. “If you’ll follow me? We just want to make sure the alterations are all set before we send it out with you.” 

You trailed after him, tucking your hands into your pockets, and grinning as he gave you a little wink before ducking into the changing room. You sat down in one of the chairs nearby, scrolling through your phone and shooting a text to Katie, the bride. You frowned as your phone began to ring, and you tapped on Katie’s name, taking the call and raising it to your ear. 

“Hey, lady. How are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m okay. Are you guys done, have you gotten everything?” 

You tried not to groan at the panicked edge in her voice.

“We have the stuff for the favor bags, we dropped the checks off.” 

“Are you putting the bags together today?” 

“Not today, but they will be done,” You leaned into the word to stave off her argument, “Before the end of the week, and dropped off to the venue on Friday.” 

“Promise?”

“You have my word. Take a deep breath.” 

“That Katie?” Bradley called out from behind the curtain. 

“Yeah!” 

“Tell her we’ll get it done!” 

“I did!” You laughed before adding, “Bradley says we’ll get it done, too. ‘Kay?” 

“Fine,” She sighed before belatedly tacking on, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.” 

“I will. Thanks, hon.” 

“Anytime. Bye.” You lowered your phone, looking down as you heard the curtain being pushed aside. You glanced up, doing a double-take at the sight of him. Your stomach flooded with butterflies at the sight. You bit your lip, gaze sweeping him from head to toe. You’d been to fittings with a few groomsmen in your day, but Bradley looked damn good. The suit fit him like a glove. You stood from where you’d settled down, tucking your phone away and stepping closer, folding your arms across your chest to fight off the urge to reach out and touch. Luckily for you, he hadn’t caught sight of your blatant interest as you hovered in his periphery. He was too busy double-checking his buttons.

“…It fits well,” You offered. 

“Yeah?” He asked, glancing back at you. You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you nodded, allowing yourself to move a couple of steps closer. 

“Yeah. Do you like it?” 

“Wearing a suit feels a little weird,” He chuckled, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “But I guess it’s good practice.” 

“Good practice?” You repeated, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m getting married next year. Actually, all of this has been good practice. You’ve been a lot more helpful than you know.”

Your smile stayed frozen in place as your neck went hot, your blood roaring in your ears. It made sense. It made so much sense, and it had no right to hurt, to twist your insides up. You nodded, and dropped your gaze to his left hand, like you could spot where the ring would sit; you wondered what kind, what metal. Engraved? Plain? Gold? Silver? Bradley struck you as the type to have a plain outer band, and an engraving inside—some secret message, or initials, or the date that they met—the date of their wedding anniversary so that he’d never forget, but Bradley wasn’t the type to forget— 

“You’re sure it looks alright?” 

His question jolted you, made your smile twitch a touch wider out of panic, your eyes bright, attentive, and flickering to his face. Even with your newfound knowledge, your upset, your crushing disappointment—you couldn’t help the softening of your expression at his blatant nerves.

“Yes,” You nodded. “I’m sure.” 

–  

It was ridiculous, right? 

It was ridiculous that it formed a knot in your chest. It was ridiculous that you were so rocked by the revelation that you couldn’t sleep. You needed to do something to get your mind off of what you’d learned; off of the sight of Bradley in that tux, bright and hopeful. 

He’d told you all about his fiancé on the drive back to your place. That was sort of your fault. You had asked—but it had seemed rude not to, once you knew that there was someone in the picture. Bradley had told you all about Liz: how they met (she was a friend of his WSO’s), how long they’d been together (six months), how the proposal had gone (she’d been the one to plan it—from the ring, to where he proposed, to the photographer who photographed the occasion, to the party of friends and family that they went to afterward), how the wedding planning was going. 

“It’s been a bit of whirlwind, planning-wise…Actually, the whole relationship has been,” He’d shrugged. “And our schedules are nuts. We kinda keep moving the goalposts.” 

“On what?” 

“…Well, when it’s gonna be, for one.” 

His laughing admission had planted a little seed of hope in the nest of dismayed vipers making a home in your belly, but you wouldn’t allow it to take root. It was to be expected. Like he said, their schedules were nuts. But still…

When it’s gonna be.

It rose to the top of mind now and again as you worked on the favors through the night, putting custom labels on the bottles of wine, making sure each bag had a corkscrew, and tying a strip of white ribbon around the neck of the bottle. 

When it’s gonna be. 

Couldn’t they just elope, if they were so worried about that? Have a proper wedding later, when things were more settled, if it was causing them so much stress? You hadn’t brought that up, of course. It wasn’t any of your business. 

When it’s gonna be. 

You set the final bottle in the final bag, then dropped the corkscrew inside. You’d already put on the label, and the ribbon. You sighed heavily, looking around your living room. It was crowded with nearly two hundred completed favor bags. How the hell were you going to get them down to your car? Could you even fit all of these in your car? You groaned, leaning back against the couch and scrubbing your hands over your tired eyes. 

Maybe you hadn’t only done the favors to keep your mind off of Bradley. Maybe you’d done it to avoid him, too, just a little. Getting them all done yourself meant that you didn’t have to spend an extra couple of hours with him. Sure, it would’ve gone faster with two, but if you wanted this crush to end with the wedding, you needed to start distancing yourself. 

It wasn’t the kindest way to deal with the circumstances—and maybe your feelings would ebb, now that you knew there was absolutely no chance of acting on them. 

Still, whatever happened, you’d gotten the favors done before the end of the week, as you’d promised Katie. 

–  

“When should I come by? I can bring pizza or something, we’ll get those favors knocked out before the party.” 

It was a sweet offer, because Bradley was a sweet guy. You planted your elbow on your desk, plaintively eyeing your work email before looking around to see if any of your coworkers were listening in. 

“Actually, I took care of them,” You admitted. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and you bit your lip, waiting for his answer. 

“You—…All of them?” He finally asked. 

“Mhm!” You forced the tone of your hum to be bright and chipper. 

“That’s, like…That’s like two hundred bags.” 

“One hundred and ninety-seven, but. Close!” 

“I could’a helped you.” 

You thought that he sounded disappointed, but surely you were reading into it. 

“No, I know! I know. I got them done, it was no problem. I had time.” 

There was another pause on the other end of the phone, and you found yourself wondering if he was distracted with whatever he was doing on the other end of the line. 

“…How long did it take?” He asked. 

“A bit? I don’t know. I didn’t time it. It was fine, I was awake.” 

“You did them last night?”

“Yes! When else?” You laughed nervously. “Look, it’s seriously fine. They’re all set.” 

“Are you alright?” 

You sagged back in your office chair. 

“Yeah,” You fibbed. 

Another harrowing pause. Then—

“Alright.” 

It sounded like a tired concession. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath, trying to lift the anxious weight moving to settle in your chest. 

“I’ll need help bringing them to the venue,” You added. 

“I can do that.” 

You knew he could; you hadn’t doubted his willingness to help at any turn. You tipped your head into your hand, nodding a little bit. 

“Sounds good, thank you.”

“You looking forward to the party tonight?” 

No, you really weren’t. In your experience, joint bachelor/bachelorette parties were either hellishly boring, or nothing but trouble. 

“Yeah!” You chirped. “It’s gonna be fun!”

–  

Dinner had been nice. The first couple of rounds of drinks had also been nice. Moving to a club had felt like a bad idea, but there you were nonetheless, crammed between the bar and Bradley. You were trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his body behind yours and the scent of his cologne as you waited for your drinks. This was bad. This was sort of torture. You peered around your shoulder as you heard Katie shriek in excitement, and smiling as her fiance, Cory, leaned in to give her a kiss. 

“They’re sweet.” 

Bradley had to get close to say it—to speak it into your ear, over the sound of the music. He rested his hand on your hip, as if he had to hold and keep your attention, as if you wouldn’t know that he was talking to you. You managed a nod, your fingers flexing against the bar. You lowered your head, stomach twisting as the bartender pushed your drinks toward you. You reached out, passing Bradley’s drink back to him before you took hold of your own. 

Bradley gave your hip a squeeze, steering you back toward the group. Oh—god. You closed your eyes tightly for a second before you turned to face Bradley. You pressed your drink toward his hand, forcing him to let go of you and take hold of it, and leaned in so that he could hear you. 

“I’m going to get some air! I’ll be right back.” 

You turned, squeezing through fellow clubbers before he could ask or argue. You gave the bouncer a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As you slid past him. You puffed softly as the sounds of the club dropped away. The air outside was warm; the breeze pushing over you almost smelled sweet compared to the stench of sweat and booze waiting for you back inside. 

Ugh, god. You didn’t want to go back inside, but you knew you couldn’t get away with going home. Most of your stuff was inside, anyway—your phone, your wallet, your bag. 

“Do you have a light?” 

You glanced up at the question, giving the man asking a small shake of your head. 

“No, sorry.” 

“Eh. I’ll find one.” The man reached into his pocket, tapping out two cigarettes. “Want one?”

“I’m good, but thank you.” 

He grunted, pushing the other one back into the pack before drawing one out and tucking it between his lips. He wandered away, and you leaned back against the outside of the club. 

Maybe you could slide into the booth, grab your things, say goodbye to Katie and Cory, and just dip without him noticing—

“Sure you don’t want one?” 

You looked up, nerves twisting as the man leaned close against the wall beside you. You shook your head, straightening up. 

“Honestly, I’m fine,” You insisted, heading for the door. 

“Hey, c’mon. You could at least keep me company,” The man argued, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you back toward him. Panic trickled through your veins as you tried to yank your wrist back, hissing, “Let go of me—”

“Hey!” 

You hardly caught sight of Bradley before he was shoving the man harshly against the wall. 

“The fuck, dude!” The smoker spluttered, dropping your wrist as he gave Bradley’s chest a shove in return. 

“She said let go, asshole,” Bradley seethed, knocking the man’s hands away. Oh, fuck. You glanced nervously toward the bouncer and the people waiting on line as they took notice of the trouble brewing. Bradley could not get into shit on the weekend of the wedding—Katie would kill you both. 

“He did, he let go! He let go,” You insisted, resting your hand on Bradley’s chest. When it didn’t nudge him back, you took hold of his hand, tugging him back with all your might and hardly budging him. “Let’s go!” You gave his arm another pull, pleading, “Bradley, please.” 

It took another harrowing moment of contentious staring between the two before Bradley drew away, his tight, sharp gaze still set on the other man. You gripped his hand more tightly, raising your other hand to press against his shoulder. 

“Let’s go back inside,” You urged. “Come on.” 

It took another couple of pulls before Bradley acquiesced, trailing you back toward the bouncer. He hesitated at the door, eyes still set on the man before he allowed you to pull him in. 

“Are you alright?” Were the first words out of his mouth. 

“Are you crazy?” Were yours as you ripped your hand away from his. “What the hell were you thinking!” 

Bradley looked stricken, brow knitting together. 

“The hell did you expect me to do? He was all over you!”

“Why did you even follow me outside?” 

“You practically ran out here, I thought something was wrong—and then I got out there and it was worse than I thought.” 

You sighed heavily, turning away and shaking your head. 

“Let’s just…Can we go back to the others?” You mumbled, turning from him. You heard him fall into step a couple of paces behind you, seeming to keep a measured distance as you made your way back to the rest of the wedding party. Once there, you embedded yourself deep into the corner with the bride and the other bridesmaids, forcing your smile wide and avoiding Bradley for the rest of the night. 

–  

It had been terrifying, having someone grab you—but the speed with which Bradley had come to your rescue was…Sort of hot? Sure, you could’ve gotten out of it yourself, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He’d gotten right up in that guy’s face—for you. You were certain that he would’ve done it for any of the other bridesmaids…Though you weren’t sure if he would’ve followed them outside…

No, he would’ve. Surely he would’ve. He was a good guy, it seemed like something he would do—

“Hey.” 

He was nice, and sweet, and…Really, really attractive, god. The look on his face, the cords of his neck straining as he’d shoved the man, as he’d hissed, She said let go, asshole—

“Hey!” 

You jumped at the feeling of Katie flicking the side of your head. The backseat of the uber was a tight squeeze with you, Karie, and Cory. You turned from looking out through the car window, smiling when you saw her watching you. Cozied into Cory’s side, she was peering at you with hazy blue eyes; her copper hair seemed dull under the glow of passing streetlights; her bride sash hung limply around her middle.

“What?” You chuckled. 

“What’s going on with you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re being all…” She waved a finger at you. “You’re being weird. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened.” 

“I heard Bradley tell Cory that someone grabbed you.” 

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced your expression to a neutral set.

“It was some drunk guy outside of the club,” You excused. “No big deal, you know. Nothing I’ve never dealt with.” 

“You were all weird when you came back, too. All quiet.” 

“It was loud in there, and I didn’t have much to say. I was vibing.” 

Katie’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel her winding up for a question before she was distracted by the sound of Cory snoring behind her. You grinned as she shifted beside him, elbowing in the side with a hiss of, “Babe! Don’t snore, you’re gonna kill my uber rating!”

–  

Loading the favor bags into Bradley’s Bronco was done in awkward silence. Neither of you said much, apart from, “Here,” and, “Thanks,” and, “I can grab that one.” Despite how carefully they were cushioned as you put them into the car, you found yourself looking into the backseat every few moments as you heard the bottles rattling from some bump in the road. You glanced at Bradley as you turned to look through the windshield again. You weren’t hungover, but you did have a growing headache. 

“…Sorry I got snippy last night.” 

It sort of pained you to say it, but you’d been repeating it in your head for the last two hours. You had to work your way up to saying it. You’d played with the phrasing, the tone, the pace, and it still felt stupid as it came out of your mouth. Before Bradley could say anything, you added, “I know you were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have freaked out at you like that.” 

Bradley still didn’t respond, and it took everything in your power to not turn and look at him, to see if he was even listening, or if he was rolling his eyes. But after a moment, he offered, “S’alright. I may’ve overreacted a little.” 

“…I thought you were gonna slug the guy.” You were trying to tease him, but Bradley didn’t even miss a beat:

“I thought I was, too.” 

You turned to look at him then, stunned. Bradley kept his focus on the road, his jaw clenched, his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses. You swallowed thickly, looking into the backseat again as the bottles rattled. 

“Would you stop fussin’ over those?” He groaned. “They’re fine.” 

“They better be. We don’t have any extras if they break.” 

“Want me to slow the car to fifteen miles an hour?” 

You could see him starting to smile in your periphery. Your stupid, crush-blind giddiness welled, feeling the tension in the car begin to break down. 

“No…” You twisted back around in your seat, slumping petulantly. “Twenty will be fine.” 

Bradley turned to look at you as the car came to a stop at a red light, gazing at you over the top of his sunglasses. 

“Twenty-three, final offer.” 

“Sold.”

Bradley’s smile made your stomach flip, and you both turned to look through the windshield again as the light turned green. 

–  

The wedding was perfect. The reception was painful. 

Liz seemed lovely, and for as kind as you were trying to be, your attempts were made even more difficult by your wealth of feeling for Bradley, and the adoring way that he curled his arm around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips, her temple; the way he offered to get her a drink, or something to eat; the way his hand slid automatically to her hip, or her lower back; the way he hung on her every word.

You didn’t belabor it. When you spotted the two of them dancing together, her body cradled safely against his, you furiously pushed away your feelings of inadequacy and upset away in favor of looking at Katie and Cory. You relaxed at the sight of them—at the love in their eyes, the sureness there.

It reminded you that loving someone wasn’t supposed to hurt. So whatever it was that you felt for Bradley could be left behind, in that room. You needed it to be. 

–  

“You missed the bouquet toss.” 

The sound of his voice made you shiver a little. Aw, hell. You’d only just managed to center yourself. Looking out over the moonlit ocean had calmed you, somewhat. But maybe whatever feelings you had for Bradley could be left…On the venue’s patio? But you glanced back, leaning against the railing and eyeing Bradley as he came closer. 

“I’m alright with that. The last time I was in the middle of one of those, I almost got socked in the face.” 

“Yeesh,” Bradley muttered.

“Yeah, bouquet tosses are no joke.” 

He rested his arms against the wide railing beside you, looking out over the water. The two of you stood in calm silence for a while.

“So when’s your next Maid of Honor gig?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Hopefully not for a while. I think I need a break from the wedding circuit.” 

“You say circuit or circus?” 

“Bit of column A, bit of column B.” 

Bradley chuckled.

“Well, whenever it is, if you need a hand, you let me know.” 

“Even if you’re not involved in the wedding?” 

“Sure. This was honestly kinda fun. And it’s ‘cause I did it with you.” 

The butterflies in your chest whirled restlessly as you felt Bradley look at you. You forced yourself to laugh, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t foist wedding duties on you if you weren’t part of the wedding, Bradley. That would be mean. I appreciate the offer, though.” 

“…Could I pick your brain about wedding stuff, sometime?” He hedged. “You know, as Liz and I get closer to ours?” 

You could say no. You could remind him of what you said, of the fact that you were getting off of the wedding circuit once this wedding was up. You could stick to your conviction that as the necessity for your proximity passed, you’d keep your distance from him— 

“Of course you can,” You nodded, turning to look at him. His sweet smile and the full weight of his gaze and focus were enough to crack you in two. 

“Dream team?” He asked, holding his hand up for a high five. You nodded, giving him a quick high five before you curled your arms around yourself. 

“Dream team.”

–  

It had been a mistake to reopen the lines of communication. You’d made the decision while tipsy, sending him an innocent, innocuous message. You hadn’t even expected a response—but he’d gotten back to you within minutes. You could’ve cut the communication dead there, but you’d found yourself grappling for connection, for the feeling of being wanted. You knew you’d get it from your ex, for better or for worse, and you needed something to drown the rotting buds of affection that you still felt blooming for Bradley. 

You hadn’t seen Bradley since the wedding, but the two of you had kept in touch. When he’d started calling you, most of the conversation had been around his wedding prep, but it hadn’t stayed that way. The two of you always managed to get off-topic—to ask and talk about one another’s lives, your days, your work. After the first couple of months, he seemed to drop the wedding chat entirely, just calling to talk. When you did try to steer it back in that direction—to a venue, or a time of year, or flowers—he managed to talk his way out of it. And you could’ve pried, but you let him avoid the topic. You were happy not to hear about Liz. Whenever your phone buzzed and his name appeared, your heart made a sharp leap from your chest to your throat. You craved the sound of his voice, missed the sight of his smile, reveled in his teasing and laughter. 

So sure, starting a conversation with your ex, Ryan, had been sort of stupid. But it felt smarter than allowing your crush for an engaged man to completely cloud your judgement.

– 

“Are you going to Cory and Katie’s for brunch this weekend?” 

“Is that this weekend?” You groaned, tipping your head back. “Fuck, I forgot.” 

“I thought you would’ve been on top of that! You were so on top of things for the wedding.” 

“Well, that was different. That was way more involved.” 

“Hey, brunch can be pretty damn involved.” 

“You speaking from experience, Bradshaw?” 

“I have faced some terrifying situations, but the worst of which was a bottomless brunch when they ran out of prosecco.” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your office chair and stifling a snort. 

“You’re such a weirdo.” 

“So am I gonna see you?” 

Am I gonna see you. 

Not are we going to see you—because presumably Liz would be there, too. A few months ago, Bradley had mentioned wanting to bring her more into the fold, into his group of friends. Most of his friends knew Cory and Katie; most of them would probably be at brunch. 

“Uh…” You eyed your calendar. “Maybe?” 

“You too busy for me now?” 

“For you?” You scoffed a laugh. “This isn’t your brunch, mister.” 

“No, I know. That’s not what I mean, it just…” 

Bradley trailed off on the other end of the phone, and you frowned, shaking your head. 

“‘It just’, what?” 

“It’s been a while since the wedding. It’d be nice to see you.” 

“It’d be nice to see you, too.” The admission felt dangerous, but it was too late to draw back in—and it was mutual. You wouldn’t have dared say it to him if he hadn’t said it first. 

“So come by,” He urged. “At least for a bit.” 

–  

For a bit. You could make it a short stop. 

“We’ll be fast,” You swore. “Like, a hello and a bellini and then we are out of there.” 

“Why are we going if you don’t even want to stay long?” 

It was a valid question, but it made you bristle a bit. It was clear that Ryan wasn’t excited to go. Well, he’d never gotten along with your friends, anyway. He’d had a feeling that they didn’t like him—and he had been right. You hadn’t told anyone that the two of you were seeing one another again, and maybe it was unfair to ambush them like this, but you didn’t think you could be around Bradley and Liz—around their cooing and teasing and sweetness—without something or someone to distract you from the reality of the situation. 

“You want me to drop you off somewhere?” You asked. “I can. I can drop you off and pick you up when I’m done.” 

“I’m only meant—” 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to go.”  

“I never said I didn’t wanna go.” 

“You’re acting like it.” 

“You’re the one saying we don’t have to say long!” He scoffed. “Can we park and get in there?” 

You puffed your cheeks out and pushed out a breath, shaking your head a little bit. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should turn around and head home—

But your heart leapt at the sight of Bradley’s Bronco parked a few cars back from Katie and Cory’s, and you knew you wouldn’t turn around. 

Quick in, quick out. One bellini, maybe half of a bagel, a warning that you had other plans and couldn’t stick around long. Ask Katie how the honeymoon was, tell Cory to call you when they needed to plan the baby shower, maybe high five Bradley, and then you’d dip.

“We always hang out with my friends,” Ryan grumbled as you parked. 

“Why is that even something you’d complain about?” 

“Because you hide me from yours.” 

You put the car in park, stomach churning guiltily as you met his eye. 

“You don’t like my friends,” You reminded him. 

“I’m willing to try, but they need to be, too.” 

“…Okay,” You nodded. “I’ll talk to them about it. Not now, but like. I’ll talk to them about it.” 

“Thank you.” 

You sighed softly, reaching out and taking his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” Ryan tipped his head back against the rest, slightly mussing his ash blond hair. “I don’t get why you’re so freaked about this brunch thing. It’s, like. Supposed to be chill, right?” 

“It is. It is, it’s gonna be a lot of people, their apartment is pretty small. You know how I get when it’s loud and crowded, and…Overloads me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, glancing toward the building.

“Let’s get you in and out, then,” He offered. “And then we can get me in and out.” He waggled his brows, and you huffed, drawing your hand out of his and getting out of the car. 

Ryan took hold of your hand again once the two of you were on the sidewalk, trailing you as you led him to the door of the apartment building. You could hear music and chatter coming from Katie and Cory’s. You drew in a deep breath before you raised your hand, knocking on the door. It was a moment before it opened, and as soon as it did, your heart stuttered in your chest.

Your attraction to Bradley had never faded like it was supposed to. You had worked at it. You’d reminded yourself of the pros and cons, beaten yourself over the head with the fact that he was with someone, in a committed relationship. You had pushed yourself back into Ryan’s arms because, for a time, you had felt wanted by him. Things had never been perfect between you. You butted heads, and you tended to not want to budge on your arguments. You were quick to anger with one another, with each little nitpick reopening the old wounds. Your relationship had been on-again off-again for a couple of years, with each period of on-again falling into the same patterns that had led to the two of you splitting up in the first place. 

This latest stint with Ryan had only been exacerbated by your frequent conversations with and interest in another man. Every conversation, every touch, hold, kiss, conversation, had been haunted with the idea of Bradley lingering in your periphery. 

“Hey!” Bradley grinned. He reached out, drawing you in without a second’s thought or hesitation. 

You leaned into him, curling your arm around his middle and patting his back. You held for as long as was appropriate, and not nearly as long as you’d like; the scent of him threatened to draw you back in. You would’ve embraced him fully if Ryan wasn’t still holding your other hand. 

“I can’t believe you made it—Katie literally just told me there was no way you were showing up,” He added, leaning back to get a better look at you. 

“Yeah, well,” You smiled weakly. “We can’t stay too long, but we wanted to drop in and see everyone.” 

Your repeated use of we seemed to jolt Bradley. His gaze dropped to your other hand, then swept up Ryan’s arm to take in his face. 

“Bradley, this is Ryan,” You added, stepping back to allow Ryan to come into the apartment fully. “Ryan, Bradley. Bradley was the Best Man at Katie and Cory’s wedding.” 

“Aw, yeah, I’ve seen pictures from the day-of,” Ryan held his hand out, giving Bradley’s a shake. “Nice to meet you, man.” 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bradley nodded. 

“Where’s Liz!” You tacked on, glancing around. A look that you didn’t recognize flashed across Bradley’s face, but it was gone in a blink.

“Ah, she, uh…She couldn’t make it.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” You frowned—and you tried to mean it. 

“It’s alright. Come on, come in,” Bradley added, waving you inside. “Sorry, I shouldn’t stall you guys in the doorway.” 

“It’s okay,” You laughed, looking around before glancing back at Ryan. “Let’s see if we can go find the newlyweds.” You glanced up at Bradley, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you around.” 

It felt wrong to say—it felt worse when you saw Bradley’s expression falter a touch. But you were already turning away from him and heading for a group of a few of your friends. You saw the flash of their horror and confusion before they pushed smiles onto their faces, squealing, “Hey!” as a group. 

“Hi!” You smiled back, giving Ryan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. You leaned into each of them, kissing their cheeks before leaning back. Katie hardly leaned into you; her gaze was still set on your ex.

“Y’all remember Ryan,” You asked, waving back toward him. It garnered nods and murmurs of agreement. 

“Nice to see you,” He offered before he leaned in a little. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You want one?” 

“Sure,” You nodded, “Thanks.” 

Before you could blink, Ryan ducked in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick, warm kiss. He didn’t overdo it, or make it pointedly salacious for the sake of your friends, like he may have in the past. Now, he gave your lower back a pat and turned, heading away from you, and leaving your little group in a pointed silence. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. You stared at Katie’s glass and warned them: 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” 

It forced them off of the topic, and onto a new subject: Katie and Cory’s honeymoon in Ibiza. You found yourself half-listening; the other ear was unwittingly searching out the sound of Bradley’s voice in your periphery. You caught on it now and again for a syllable or two, and your head would twitch in his direction. It was impossible for you not to. As badly as you wanted to go to him—to soak up his smiles and his warm, kind eyes—you rooted yourself with your friends, averting your gaze from their nervous and judgemental glances. 

But when the conversation shifted again—when your ear caught on Ella’s comment of, “—A shame about Bradley and Liz, isn’t it?” Your head snapped to them.

“I know,” Katie sighed, shaking her head, “He’s such a good guy.” 

“What happened?” You frowned, shaking your head. The others glanced around conspiratorially before they leaned in a little more. 

“Apparently,” Katie leaned into it, “He and Liz, like…Imploded. She said it was taking them too long to get the wedding together, he said that it would take as long as they needed—” 

“Neither of them would budge,” Ella shrugged. “Apparently she eloped with some guy she met, like, the week after they split.” 

“Oh, my god,” You breathed. The news twisted you all up; you didn’t know how it was possible that someone could do that to Bradley. 

“Honestly, I don’t think she really even wanted to be married to him,” Cassie offered. “I think she just wanted to be married.” 

You found yourself twisting around to try and catch sight of Bradley then—like you could see some visible sign of the change, the distress; like the ring you’d come to imagine sitting on his finger had disappeared. 

And then Ryan rested a hand on your lower back and pressed a bellini into your hand, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over your head. 

Bradley hadn’t said a thing to you. You had been asking about Liz for months. You had questioned their plans: their honeymoon arrangements, their colors, their venue options; you’d offered to get him in touch with coordinators, with florists, and DJs and caterers and bakers and goddamnit, why hadn’t he told you? 

Why hadn’t he at least feigned that the wedding was on hold? That they were regrouping, or restrategizing, or asked you to change the topic, or to just shut the hell up about it? Had he not wanted you to know? Was it a matter of his loss, his pride? 

Finally catching sight of him across the room, you found him with a gaggle of guys. He had a glass in his hand, and a smile on his face as he laughed—the kind that made his eyes crinkle, and his chin tip up with the force of it. You saw his head turn toward you a touch, and you hurriedly averted your gaze, raising your glass to your lips and taking a deep draw from your glass. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. The alcohol seemed to burn and bubble as it dropped into your belly. 

“Hon, are you okay?” Ella asked, frowning at you. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.” 

“Uh…No, you know what, I actually, um,” You cleared your throat. “I’m not feeling well. I think we should get going, actually, we’ve got some other things that we need to, um…” You cleared your throat, glancing back toward Ryan. He looked as confused as your friends. Maybe he figured the two of you would stay for more than five minutes. You were a flurry of apology as you pecked their cheeks, grabbing Ryan’s hand and half-dragging him out of the apartment. 

“They say something about me?” He asked tiredly as the two of you left. 

“No,” You shook your head, climbing into the car. “No, it really—I really do feel like shit right now.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest; the blood was roaring in your ears; your head was spinning. You stuck the key into the ignition before you leaned back to put your seatbelt on, drawing in a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down. 

“If you feel so shitty, you probably shouldn’t be driving,” Ryan grumbled. 

“I can handle it.”

“You could’ve at least waited for me to get something to eat—” 

“Oh my god,” You groaned. “Maybe you should’ve grabbed a bagel while you were already in the kitchen, then.” 

“You said you wanted a drink.” 

“You offered to get me one!” 

You turned to the car, turning the key in the ignition before glancing at Ryan, doing a double take and waving at his chest.

“…What?” He asked. 

“Would you put your fricking seatbelt on, please?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes, seriously!” You insisted. “God forbid something happen, I don’t want you flying through the fucking windshield—” 

“You know what?” Ryan reached out, opening the door. “I’m gonna walk.” 

“You’re gonna walk?” You scoffed. “You’re really gonna fucking—” 

You winced as he slammed the door shut. You shook your head, glancing into the rear view. Fucking fine. If he wanted to walk, he could fucking walk. You glanced to the side mirrors and checked your blindspot before flooring it out of the spot and peeling down the block. You glanced down as you heard your phone buzz, certain you would have a text from Ryan, asking you to pick him up at the corner. 

Instead, you spotted Bradley’s name. You found yourself pitching your phone into the passenger side footwell on instinct as you turned back to the road.

He hadn’t even thought about pulling you in when he saw you. He’d drawn you into his arms, completely disregarding Ryan—so much so that he seemed surprised when you pointed Ryan out. He’d acted like you were the only person there. 

You pressed your elbow against the door, resting your head on your head. 

Six months. You had been asking Bradley (or trying to ask Bradley) about the wedding for the last six months. He had played along. You felt stupid, embarrassed. 

And goddamnit, you felt hopeful. 

–  

When you finally got home and retrieved your phone from the car footwell, you had three texts and five missed calls. 

Three of the missed calls were from Ryan, as well as one of the texts—a request to sit down and hash out whatever the hell happened at the party. Another was from Katie (Bitch, you got a lot of explaining to do with a gif of Ricky Ricardo waggling his finger). You saw the missed calls and texts from Bradley last: 

BB (#DreamTeam)

Sorry I missed you on your way out

As if it was his fault.

Well, then again, it sort of was.

You eyed the last time he called; it had been a few minutes ago. You huffed softly, considering your options. You shot a text over to Ryan agreeing to meet first. You knew that delaying your response in favor of calling Bradley would send your guilt through the roof. Then, you hesitantly tapped on Bradley’s name, putting the phone on speaker. You glanced around, sighing and leaning back in the driver’s seat as the ringtone brrrr’d in the absence of his response. It was one ring away from going voicemail when you heard him pick up. 

“Hello?” He answered.

“Hey. Sorry, I was driving, I didn’t, uh—I didn’t see that you called.” 

“That’s okay.” 

You nodded a little before you paused, brows raising a touch. 

“So what’s up?” You finally pressed. 

“Seemed like you left in a hurry. I turned around and you were just gone.” 

“Something came up.” 

“Katie said you weren’t feeling well.” 

Snitch. 

“I wasn’t.” 

“Feeling better now?” Bradley pried, and before you could even think of your answer, “Wanna go grab a drink, or…Dinner, something?” 

You tipped your head back against the rest, closing your eyes. No. No. That was an awful idea. You needed to get together with Ryan as soon as possible, to get your shit together, to work out whatever you needed to work out—

–  

“You been here before?” You asked. 

“Uh—”

“Hey, Rooster!” 

Your brows raised as he raised a hand, waving at a woman not too far off. He turned a bashful smile toward you as he lowered his hand, folding his arms on the bar. 

“It’s near the base, so it’s pretty popular with people in the service.” 

“It’s nice in here,” You nodded, looking around. 

“Nicer than Katie’s?” 

He didn’t bother trying to be subtle, leaning into the question. You slowly turned to face forward again, casting the bartender a smile and a thanks as she set your drinks down. Bradley waited until she drifted away before he added, 

“You ran out of there like you were on fire.” 

“Thought you turned around I was just gone,” You reminded him, raising your brows. Bradley’s eyes skated across your face. 

“Saw you out of the corner of my eye,” He admitted. 

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I’ve seen you ditch out of somewhere before.” 

You turned from him, taking up your beer. 

“You need someone to sock that guy, I’m your first call,” Bradley added, and you couldn’t help but smile ruefully as you shook your head. 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” 

“Katie said he doesn’t treat you right.” 

“The way Liz treated you?” 

It fell out of your mouth before you can stop it. You watched Bradley’s expression harden, his jaw clenching as his fingers flexed around the bottle in front of him. He didn’t hold your gaze. As bad as you felt for mentioning it, you couldn’t have it over your head anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You plied when he gave no answer. “I asked about that shit for months, like a fricking idiot.” 

“You weren’t an idiot. You didn’t know.”

“Exactly my point! Why didn’t you at least pretend you had postponed it or something?” 

“I didn’t wanna talk about it. I still don’t.” 

“Then why’d you invite me out?” 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about that, not that I didn’t want to talk at all.” 

You both turned back to your drinks, gaze set contentiously on them. 

“…I take it Katie told you about Ryan?” You hedged.

“A bit, yeah.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“That he’s a dick who won’t compromise.” 

“Yeah, well,” You shifted on your bar stool. “I don’t exactly have a gold medal in that, either when it comes to him.” 

“Just him?” 

You considered for a moment, tipping your chin up and eyeing the opposite wall. 

“We butt heads, we always have. It always starts out pretty well, and then…I don’t know. Little things start to break down, little communication errors or fights and they get bigger and bigger, and,” You raised a hand, mimicking an explosion. “He was peeved when we went to Katie’s, thought I pulled him out of there because they said something to me about him. I mean, they would’ve, probably. And they clearly said something to you.” 

“She said she had no idea how you even linked back up.” 

“I texted him a kitty picture.” 

You saw Bradley frown out of the corner of your eye, his mouth working wordlessly as he seemed to grapple with something. It clicked, and you groaned, “No, an actual cat, you—” You reached out, giving his shoulder a light shove as the two of you dissolved into laughter, “You perv.” 

–  

You don’t let Bradley right back in, and you don’t show Ryan right out, either. Where your friendship with Bradley had been middling, your reopened channels of communication were slowly bringing it back to life. Where your relationship with Ryan had been waning, you gave it another shot in earnest. 

– 

“So when do I get to meet him?” Bradley asked.

“You already met him,” You chuckled. 

“Not properly. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him.” 

“You want to?” 

Bradley leaned back in his seat a little. You could feel his gaze sweeping you, even as you poked at your dinner. 

“You don’t want me to?” He batted back. You shrugged. 

“I have no problem with it. Kinda surprised, considering what Katie’s told you about him.” 

“I like to draw my own conclusions. ‘Sides, if you’re with him, he can’t be all that bad.” 

“Your opinion of me is way too high, Bradshaw.” 

“Your opinion of yourself isn’t high enough.” 

Your stomach flipped at his insistence, and you raised your drink to swallow your arguments. 

“Gonna have to meet him soon,” He added. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m goin’ away.” 

He said it so casually, so easily, like it wouldn’t hit you below the belt and ruin your appetite. You carefully lowered your glass back to the table. 

“When?” You asked as lightly as you could manage. 

“Next week.” 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“At least a couple of months.” 

You nodded a little, belly squirming with nerves. It was a wholly irrational response. You knew very well what Bradley did. You just hadn’t come into contact with the reality of it before. 

“So?” He leaned against the table. “When can I meet him?”

“…I don’t know, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know when he’s, um…” Your brain was scrambled all of the sudden. It was like it was being overtaken with the knowledge of Bradley’s leaving, the possibilities. “I’ll ask.” 

“I’ll pencil it in.” 

“Am I gonna see you before I leave?” 

“With Ryan?” 

“I mean if he can’t make it.” 

You give Bradley a guarded gaze from beneath your eyelids, smiling as you see him nodding. 

“Course you’re gonna. Dream team, remember?” 

– 

“Think your guy can pencil me in for when I’m back?” 

You grimaced at his question. Bradley had been gone for almost a month, and asking that question for nearly just as long. Your phone time had only increased with his being so far away; you got a call from him every other day, if not every day. You shifted on your couch, eyeing your tv boredly. 

“Be kinda weird for you to hang out with a guy I’m not with anymore, but yeah, I’m sure we could work something out.” 

There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone before he asked, “When’d that happen?“

"Yesterday.”

“And what happened there?” 

“We were not, uh…” You shook your head. “Ultimately, we weren’t compatible. I think that’s the nice way to say it.” 

“What’s the mean way?” 

“He’s a fucking dumbass.” 

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Sure. Anyone who can’t make it work with you—there’s gotta be something wrong with ‘em.” 

You tipped your head back against your couch, your feet kicking with childish excitement. Ugh, goddamnit, he always seemed to know the right thing to say. 

“Anyway,” You pushed on as you settled back down. “I can still set you up with Ryan.” 

“No thank you.”

“Gee, why not?”

“He’s not really my type. Sounds like he’d be Liz’s, though.” 

You smiled a little ruefully, hand scrubbing over the side of your neck. It had taken some time, but Bradley had finally opened up to you about what had gone wrong. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, he’d sworn. It was just that they were in different places, ready (or not ready) for different things. He’d gradually gone from not giving a damn what she’d gotten up to without him to wishing her well. You couldn’t imagine feeling the same good will toward Ryan. 

“Doesn’t seem like she needs a fix up,” You quipped.

“She certainly does not.” 

“Mm. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s been alright. Tiring,” Bradley admitted. “We’ve moved on to parameter-specific runs, and it’s, uh…It’s gonna be a hard one.” 

You bit your lip. You weren’t sure what to say that he surely hadn’t heard a hundred times before. Tell him that he would be fine? Beg him to come home safely? 

You hadn’t been able to spend time alone with Bradley before he’d left. Katie had wound up having a small dinner at her place—something for friends, something more casual. You couldn’t bring yourself to selfishly break off another bit of his time, and you’d soaked up all of him that you could while you were there. When the party had ended, you’d trailed him back to the Bronco. Your conversation had gone on and on outside of it, and then inside when you couldn’t bring yourself to stand still. Even then, practically facing one another in the front seat of his car, you’d found yourself feeling antsy. You’d wanted to tell him something beyond the fact that you would miss him. You wanted to tell him that you were worried about him; you wanted to somehow let him know that the news of his sudden departure had kept you up for the better part of a week; you wanted to know if he would be thinking of you, too; you wanted to reach out and touch—his hand, his arm, his cheek, something. 

But you’d kept to your side of the car, bottled your protests and worries, and resolutely tried to ignore the way your heart leapt in your throat whenever his knee nearly brushed yours. 

Now, the clarity of distance told you that you’d done the right thing. Laying some confession of interest or a kiss on him would’ve clouded the lines of communication that you had open now—lines that you weren’t willing to jeopardize. 

“You’ll get it,” You finally said, “Whatever it is.” 

“I’d tell you more, but—”

“No, that’s alright. I think that would just make me more worried, anyway.” 

“You worry about me?” 

Crap. You slid down in your seat, pressing your head back against the cushion. 

“Course I do,” You admitted quietly, as if he could lose the sound of you over the phone—as if your mumbled confirmation wouldn’t be chased or leaned into. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Oh, well, thank you for that absolution. I was only worrying for fun.” 

“C’mon,” Bradley chuckled softly. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know,” You grumbled. 

“It’s nice.” 

“It’s nice? You enjoy making me worry? That’s just cruel, Bradshaw.” 

“Swear to god, when I get back, I’m gonna—” 

“What?” You goaded, heart ticking up in your chest. “What are you gonna do?” 

Maybe it was a step too far. Bradley went quiet on the other end of the phone. Your mouth went dry as you waited with nervous anticipation. And then you registered the yell of someone on the other end of the phone, the use of his callsign. 

“Shit,” He muttered, then, louder: “I gotta go.” 

“Okay,” You nodded. It was better that he couldn’t see the nod, or the way panic washed across your face. “Be careful.” 

He didn’t need to be told that, but you couldn’t help the plea. 

“I will,” He swore. And then he was gone. You lowered your phone, watching as BB (#DreamTeam) flickered away, leaving your lock screen. Gonna what? What the hell was he gonna do when he got back? 

Then again, you weren’t sure you cared what it was, so long as he did get back. 

–  

“Did I wake you up?” 

“No!” You leaned over, turning your lamp on and pushing yourself to sit up, your phone clutched in your hand. You knew that the first thing you’d said to him, your groggy little opening gambit of, “Whazzit?” had probably given the game away, but hell, he’d asked.

You’d hardly heard from Bradley for the last few weeks. You hadn’t reached out. You hadn’t wanted to bother or distract him from his task. But on the late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you found yourself wondering if Bradley hadn’t contacted you because he couldn’t—because something had gone wrong. You’d found yourself constantly checking your phone, keeping it on the edge of your periphery on the off-chance he called or texted. 

“You lying to me?” He added. At least he sounded a little amused by the prospect. You scrubbed your hand across your eyes. Damnit. 

“…A little bit,” You mumbled. 

“Go back to sleep.” 

“Nooo,” You whined, kicking your feet petulantly beneath your sheets. “Talk to me.” 

“You laying down?” 

“…I was.” 

“Lay back down.” 

The order felt a little salacious, but you were sure he meant nothing by it. Still, you slid down as he said, tipping your sleep-heavy head back against the pillows. 

“Talk to me,” You urged again. “Please?” 

“You should’ve let me go to voicemail.” 

“I said talk, not argue.” 

“Now who’s arguing?” 

You smiled, letting your eyes close. 

“‘M not arguing. Making a point isn’t arguing.” 

“It is when you use that tone.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

His reassurance made you melt into the mattress a little more. 

“Good,” You mumbled. “I was afraid you weren’t.” 

“Don’t worry about that.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“Now you’re arguing again,” He chuckled. “You always this combative when you wake up?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“…Yeah, I would.” 

For a moment, you were certain you imagined him saying it, or that you’d managed to mishear him in his hazy state. 

“You could, you know,” You finally offered.

“Oh yeah? How would I do that?” 

His voice was different than you were used to—low and soothing, and curled with a wink that you longed to see. 

“How do you think?” 

“Could always call you in the middle of the night again.” 

You pushed a sleepy, ugly giggle, then slapped your hand over your mouth when you realized that the sound escaped you. Bradley laughed quietly on the other end. 

“If that’s the route you wanna go, Bradshaw.” 

“I am sorry,” He added. “I forgot what time it was over there.” 

“S’okay, I don’t mind. I missed your voice.” 

God, being tired made you far more loose-lipped than you typically were. You were already penciling in a reminder to be mortified about this conversation in the morning. But it was chased and erased by Bradley’s gentle, 

“I missed yours, too.” 

Your stomach squirmed at the sentiment, a goofy smile spreading across your face. 

“Even when it sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel?” You teased. 

“You don’t sound like that.” 

It took you a few moments to answer. As badly as you wanted to stay awake, you could feel sleep sinking its claws into you, drawing you back down. 

“No? Feels like I do.” 

“You don’t. You might if you stay up talking to me, though.” 

“Worth it,” You insisted. You didn’t know if he took longer to answer, or if it took longer to register with you. But his voice finally worked through:

“Go back to sleep.” 

“I don’t wanna.”

“I’ll see you soon.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

“Mmmkay,” You finally relented. “Get home safe, please.” 

“I will.” 

–  

In the morning, you were far less embarrassed than you thought you would be. Sure, there were still things that you sort of wish that you hadn’t said, but they were clouded out by other things—like the way Bradley had reassured you that you didn’t sound like hell, and the fact that he’d missed your voice in the first place. 

Still, all of those things were stomped out by one thing that you were almost certain had been a figment of your sleep-addled mind, something that you wanted desperately to be real, but would never bring yourself to ask Bradley about—

The sound of his warm, tender little murmur right before you’d drifted off entirely: 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You spent the morning stewing over whether or not you’d really heard Bradley say that, or if you’d conjured it up. Maybe it was something that you simply wanted so badly that you had imagined it. 

Your eyes kept darting to your phone during work, your heart leaping into your throat every time the screen lit up. It was usually some app alert. Every time you perked up at the sight of it only to be let down, you felt silly. It was another entire day of ebbing excitement and rising disappointment, raising your hopes for absolutely nothing. By the time you left your office, you’d exhausted yourself. You were being ridiculous. Sure, he’d said he’d see you soon, but that was probably relative to—

“Did you manage to fall back asleep? Or did you stop talking because you were bored with me?” 

Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open at the sight of him outside your office building. You didn’t even think as you darted toward him, barrelling into him. Bradley took hold of you as though you hadn’t run into him with any force. He held firm, curling his arms around your shoulders as you clung to him. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. He smoothed his hand over your back as you grappled with it all—the feel of him; the scent of his cologne and aftershave; the fact that you could see him, touch him, prove to yourself that he was okay. 

When you finally managed to talk yourself into loosening your grasp, you drew back a little, your bashful embarrassment bubbling up and trying to overtake the joy that you felt. Bradley simply smiled, cupping your cheek in a way that made your heart sing. 

“Hi there,” He murmured.

“Hi,” You laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.” 

“S’alright,” He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.” 

“When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant so soon.” 

“I know. I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well, mission accomplished.” 

His thumb swept gently over the apple of your cheek, his smile pulling wide to match yours. 

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“Couple of hours ago.” 

And he was there, with you? Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt. 

“Aren’t you tired?”

“A little.” 

“Are you hungry?” 

“I could eat.” 

“What do you want?” 

Bradley’s tongue swept across his lips, his eyes skimming your face for a moment. Then, seeming to rethink something, he shrugged. 

“Whatever you’ve got.” 

–  

Technically you didn’t have much, but Bradley didn’t gripe about ordering in pizza. Hell, when you suggested it, he let out a groan that rattled right through you before emphatically agreeing: 

“Fuck yes. Please.” 

The way he said it stuck with you for entirely the wrong reason, and you found yourself almost studiously perusing a delivery app for the best option to keep him from clocking your aroused embarrassment. You didn’t have a dining room table, so the two of you wound up eating side by side, close, with some nonsense tv show that neither of you were really paying attention to playing in the background. When you asked about how it had gone, as delicately as possible, he shrugged.

“I won’t pretend it was the worst mission I’ve ever flown,” He said. “But I’m going to pretend that it was the best, either.” 

He didn’t go into specifics, but that was alright. You still weren’t quite certain that you wanted him to. The less you knew, the better. Besides, it didn’t matter, anyway. He was there, safe, with you. 

“Well,” You leaned back, on your couch, dusting the crumbs off of your fingers. “I’m glad it worked out.” “Mm,” He nodded, pushing his plate away before he looked around. You raised your brows as he lowered his hand to the cushions, giving them a squeeze. 

“So,” He smiled, “This where you usually call me from?” 

“Usually.”

“Even last night?” 

“Last night was a bit of an exception. I think we both know that.” 

“Where were you?” 

You nodded toward the hall. “My room. That’s where I gargle gravel.” 

“I told you you didn’t sound bad,” Bradley laughed.  

“Yeah, you did, and I still don’t believe you.” 

Bradley shook his head a little. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand sliding across the cushion, a little closer to you. 

“You sounded good,” He insisted. 

“Good might be stretching it.” 

“Good’s the tip of the iceberg.” 

Your tummy fluttered at the feeling of his fingertips tenderly skating over the back of your hand. Your fingers wriggled, like it would entice him to touch you more—like if you didn’t move, didn’t react, he’d pull away or stop. Bradley lowered his gaze to your hands, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt him gently turn yours, his calloused fingertips skating across your palm. 

“…Bradley?” 

“Mhm?” 

“This may be an incredibly dumb question—” 

“Doubt it.”

“Wh—” You laughed nervously before you could finish the question. “Why did you…I mean, you just got back. Why’d you come see me?” 

“Because I missed you.” He took hold of your hand, his thumb sweeping along the side. “I needed to see you.” 

The word makes your pulse quicken, and you blink a few times to try and clear your swimming head. 

“…Needed?” You repeated dazedly. Bradley nodded, lifting his head to meet your eye. 

“Needed, sweetheart.” 

The way he said it was so soft, and warm, and so perfectly familiar that you could’ve cried. But Bradley was already cradling your cheek, already drawing you close and leaning in to meet you halfway. You raised your other hand, cupping the side of his neck as your lips met for the first time. Your eyes closed as you savored the tender slip and press of his kiss. The mustache was a little bristly, but hardly as intrusive as you thought it may be. The slight tickle of it made you smile. 

Bradley drew back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw before he pressed his face into your neck. 

“Goddamn,” He mumbled, voice rumbling against your skin. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” 

“You have?” You asked, sliding your hand up into his hair. 

“Longer than I should’ve been.” 

You bit your lip, resting your head against his. 

“If it makes you feel any better, so have I.” 

He pressed a sweet kiss to the crook of your neck before sweeping his lips over your neck and jaw, up to your ear.

“It does.”

You shivered at the caress of his breath. You turned your head shyly, nuzzling the tip of his nose with yours before tipping your chin up, giving him another gentle kiss. Bradley sighed into you, his grip in your hand tightening as you shifted closer to him. You hummed softly as he leaned back, resting his forehead against yours, chasing his lips for another peck.

“Before I completely monopolize your time, is there anything else that you planned on doing tonight?” You asked. Bradley chuckled, shaking his head.

“I did want to do one thing.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show as you, just nodded.

“What’s that?”

“See how combative you are when you wake up.”

You grinned wide, raising your hand and curling it in his collar, drawing him closer.

“Just you wait, mister.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 8

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Jazzercise in the park sounded like a great idea when you signed-up. You didn't put much thought to the demographic until you showed up. Amid the grannies dressed in their most neon oranges and hottest of pinks, you stick out like a sore thumb. Still, you don't mind the excuse for some fresh air and to make some friends.

A sheen of sweat breaks out on your forehead and you feel the fitness flowing through you. You look over at Gladys as she nearly puts you to shame with her spry lunges. You sigh and look to your other side, wishing Hottie was there. Too bad she has work.

You follow the instructor, a woman in her late fifties, Sonya. She hops and bops to the vibes of Wham as she hollers at you to get moving. You find yourself bouncing all over the place, the pedestrians along the path and the sitters on the benches watching at all angles. You might look ridiculous but it feels great.

You jump a bit too far back and crash into another body. You expect Meredith and her tight spirals flowing over a sweatband, but instead find yourself on the path, nearly stampeded by the large body heaving and sweating. You get your balance and untangle yourself from the stranger. Not a stranger at all.

August's curls are slightly dampened with his sweat, his skin glistening, as he wears a sleeveless black muscles shirt and even drabber shorts. A little colour wouldn't hurt.

"You," he snarls as he steps back.

"You!" You cheep brightly, "are you here for Jazzercise too?"

"What? I'm running--- Typical. I just can't seem to shake you. Like a bad cold."

"Hm, is there a such thing as a good cold?" You tap your lip, "maybe if it helps you build immunity--"

"Enough," he checks his watch and sighs, looking down the winding paved path, "I don't have time for this."

"I don't either," you put on a scowl, "you know, I'm out here tryna get in shape and you're running into people--"

"You jumped in my way," he accuses.

"My bad," you put your hands up and step off the pavement, "as you were."

You spin and dismiss him. You come join Gladys as she runs in place and you focus on Meredith's barking demands. Whew, this is awesome but you're gonna be in bed for at least a day recovering.

🧸

You walk home alone, enjoying the sunshine and the song birds flying around the statues. You follow the trail to the gates and onto the street. It's not very far from home, a couple blocks if that. You feel the adrenaline fading and the nip of fatigue that underlies it. You can't wait to chill, and maybe take a shower.

You pull at your shirt, trying to air out your sweaty torso. As you turn onto the next avenue, you hear a step out of rhythm. You look over your shoulder but only find a Ford Fiesta driving down the road. You shrug and carry on.

As you come to your house, you see the drive way is empty. It's not surprising. Your mom and dad are social people, more so since you aged into college. Hottie says it's a midlife crisis, but you expect they just feel free now that you're and adult. Well, you do your best.

You hop up the steps and take out your keys. You leave it unlocked as you stop to take off your shoes. The only thing on your mind is a tall refreshing glass of water. You don't think orange pop is a great post-work out refresher, as bubbly as it is.

You go into the kitchen and fill a glass. You head out to the deck, leaving the sliding door open as you sit in the shade. You drain almost half the glass before setting it aside on the patio table. You lean forward and undo your fanny pack, putting it next to the water.

You lean back and close your eyes. You really should get washed up. You're a little smelly. Oh, maybe Hottie's done. You can't remember when she said she worked until.

You drag yourself to your feet and finish the water. You leave the empty glass in the kitchen and stop to look at the crooked whiteboard on the fridge. You fix it and turn your attention to your phone.

Your mom texted you during the class. Her and your dad drove up to your aunt's for their big summer blowout. The same one they seem to have every week or so.

You go upstairs and to your room. You undress a piece at a time. The body suit wasn't a great choice as you peel it away from your skin and the leggings catch around your ankle. Ew, you feel nasty.

You wrap yourself in a fresh towel and walk down the hall to the bathroom as you message Hottie to check in. It's a perfect night for a sleepover. Your dad always drinks too much when he's around your uncle.

You put your phone on the counter and swing the door behind you, not caring that it doesn't clasp. You put the towel over the bar and slide back the frosted door. You bend to crank on the faucet letting the water heat before stepping under it.

You bask in the steam and wash away the residue of your workout. You take your time, a rare chance to do so. You step out and find the whole room foggy. Jeez, like a sauna or whatever.

You grab your towel and pat yourself dry, swathing yourself in the cotton before letting the steam out into the hall. You hum that George Michael diddy as you come down to your room and hit the high note just as you find an unexpected figure on the foot of your bed. It's not your teddy bear.

Your heart drops and you barely keep the towel from doing the same.

"August?" You gape in confusion, has the steam made you delirious?

He smirks, the first time you've seen anything but fury in his features. You gulp loudly and clutch the knot of the towel. You don't like that little light in his eyes, like a wolf about to feast.

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Courtship Deception - Part 1: Morning

Fic masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

EEEEEE I’M SO EXCITED!!!

Warnings: none?

Word count: 983 words (I got it under control in the next parts, I promise 😅)

The wind in Aelin’s hair brought a rare sense of freedom, and it only got better the more she picked up speed. Tipping her head back, she felt weightless in this quaint little avenue—

“You’re supposed to be watching the road!” Fenrys shouted in the passenger’s seat. He was usually much cooler than this, but her favorite Personal Protection Officer was being handsomely paid to ensure not only her safety, but her dad’s convertible’s too.

“I’m feeling the road, Fen!” Aelin said, head tipped back into the tangled mess her hair became in this drive.

“That’s not— Fuck. We’re here!”

She slammed her foot on the breaks, tires screeching while their bodies were thrown forward. The force in which the seatbelt pressed against her collarbone was near bruising, but Aelin was laughing when the car stopped.

“How did I do?”

Fenrys threw his head back, cackling. “Fucking awful, Princess.”

Aelin’s father never allowed her to have driving lessons because he believes it’s an unnecessary waste of her time. Now, at the ripe age of 21, she finally convinced one of her babysitters to cross Rhoe’s orders, and her skills were getting less lethal each day.

Out of the car, she waited for Fenrys to parallel park—the spot was small, and Aelin was still getting the hang of it—and took in the charming residential street. An array of colorful little houses facing a park. It was Orynth in June, so the cool breeze brought the freshness of blooming trees, the late morning sunlight burning into Aelin’s skin and feeding into her soul, much like the flowering scene around her. Her bodyguard mentioned to a white and green house with a tiny but well-kept garden up front.

When Fenrys said they’d meet his secret tech guy, she expected something a lot more sketchy than this.

He said a few things to a camera by the front door, and it automatically opened. Um, rude? She didn’t expect a butler, but even in mafia movies there’s someone to answer the door.

After locking the front door and going through the living room, Fenrys led her into another one, and the amount of screens was far from being the most surprising thing.

“Rowie Bowie!” the bodyguard called, arms up, happy to greet his friend.

The mysterious man looked up, and it knocked Aelin’s breath out of her lungs. Holy rutting Mala. When Fen told her about this ‘grumpy tech guy’, she expected a weird-looking smelly nerd, not a scary-looking tattooed hottie. She immediately straightened, one hand subtly attempting to realign the bird’s nest that her hair became after the drive.

“Don’t bother,” scary-looking tattooed hottie said, piercing green eyes briefly assessing her before they were back on the screen. “You look pretty disheveled like this.” And he smirked. Her poor panties.

“So…” she trailed, leaning on the nearest desk. Smooth. Be smooth. “Rowie—“

“Please, don’t call me that.”

“It’s Rowan,” Fenrys added, “But Rowie is much better.”

He rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not—“

“Rowan.” Aelin cleared her throat. “Did you get past the security system?”

Of her own house, she meant. Her father was strict, so it was easier to get an illicit second phone than to get past all the monitoring her official phone was under. But Aelin had just bought a new iPhone, which meant she needed someone to make this phone fly under her dad’s radar—Mala forbid if someone finds an undetected wireless device within the walls of her mansion.

“All six of them, yes.”

“SIX?” Fenrys’ eyes were wide, caught by surprise.

“Yes,” Rowan replied, “Wireless detectors, frequency scanners, NLJDs, all six of them. And my job would be a lot easier if you knew your own workplace before hiring me.”

Poor Fen. His main job was to guard Aelin, he never got into the thick of Rhoe’s security system.

Rowan extended the new phone towards her, but took it back when she reached out. “I took the liberty to download something to get around your…” a small wince. “security cameras. You can crop some previously-recorded footage make make it look like it’s live. You’ll see it in the tutorial.”

How sweet of him. Aelin smiled. “You didn’t need to, but thanks.”

Her dad had security cameras installed in her bedroom—not in her closet or bathroom, but it was still annoying. Lorcan, one of her father’s men, was in charge of it, but Aelin terrorized the guy out of watching her footage. After a stunt she pulled a year ago, it’d take a nuclear explosion to get him to check the cameras on her bedroom.

“How much was it again?” Fenrys asked, his eyes widening when he saw the price, then complained, “That’s not what we settled for.”

“Agreed.” Rowan’s eyes, aimed at the bodyguard, were hard as steel. “You made my work sound much simpler than it actually was.”

She frowned. “How much is it?”

Fenrys sent her an apologetic look. “Half the Hermès we were buying after this.”

It’s not that money was a problem for Aelin, but her access to it was rather bureaucratic. She couldn’t go out, spend money on a “shopping spree”, and come back without shopping bags.

She waved him off. “What’s the point of getting a new purse if I don’t have a phone to put in it?”

Still upset, Fen turned around to focus on the payment. With his back to her, Aelin got closer to Rowan, both hands on his desk.

“I might have some trouble with this new setup on my phone,” Aelin lied.“So, I was wondering if you could give me your number, in case I have any questions.”

“Sure.” Rowan’s eyes sparkled, not leaving Aelin’s as he got her phone back. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes.” She tilted her head, a fake helpless look from under her lashes. “I’m not as good with online instructions, so you might need to come find me sometime.”

The dark look Rowan gave her sent a shiver down her spine. “Let’s say I do. Does your guard dog come in the package deal?”

Aelin smirked, not bothering to keep up with the naïve facade anymore. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

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[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Pub Crawl {3}

Oneshot Summary; Your mum warned you of getting into strangers’ cars, but John isn’t a stranger anymore, especially not when he remains with you as evening turns to night.

Pairing: John Price x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/3

Word; 12k

Warnings; smut (MDNI, 18+), oral (f-receiving), dirty talking fingering, d/s themes, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: The last part of this mini-series is here! I’m debating on whether to make this pairing a little universe, let me know if it’s something you guys are interested in xx

MAIN MASTERLIST

The pub lay on a one-way avenue, a strip of parking slots separating the sidewalk from a low-speed street. The main road you now rolled down sported twin lanes, opposite traffic and wide sidewalks on either side as if desiring to lure people from taking the car. Yet, there weren’t many driving at this time. 

Your eyes caught more pedestrians strolling down the sidewalk than cars. Some in groups, others in pairs, but everyone with the same desire to not waste one of the few perfect summer nights. Neve knowing when one would return.

Although your head shifted closer to the window as John steered the car into a different lane, your eyes flittered to watch him.

One hand retreats from the gear shift, settling on his jeans-clad thigh. ’Course I drive a manual; don’t find any smart cars in the army’, John said when you commented on the non-automotive choice earlier. 

His fingers tap in tune with the low beat playing from the speakers by whatever late-night station. Meanwhile, his right-hand grips the wheel at two o’clock, elbow resting on the window sill, relaxed as he navigates the near-empty streets.

He must feel your eyes on him because John’s gaze falls from the road to momentarily glance back at you. His brows lift slightly as those blues lock with yours, offering a smile before his attention retracts to the road. You follow the journey of his eyes as you near an intersection.

"Left up here”, you nod forwards, only earning a hum from John as he shifts before slowing down at the traffic light that's gone from green to yellow only to change to red long enough for the car to roll and not come to a complete stop before reversing its colour scheme. Late-night traffic lights never make sense.

”Know, love”, he replies whilst his left hand joins his right on the steering wheel to make the turn, straightening the car by letting the wheel naturally spin into place by easing his grip.

”You do now?” You believe him, as you’d forgotten to give him the heads up a few minutes ago, and he’s still shifted into the correct lane. Still, you tease him, giving him an amused glance he probably doesn’t notice, but your voice must be enough as he chuckles.

"Considerin' I know the city as the back of my hand, knew since you told me the street”. You angle yourself slightly more towards him.

”Sight-seeing your hobby aside from visiting Marissa when home?”

”Mhm, not all too shabby second choice for clearin' the head”.

”Wouldn’t call driving in a city anything near clearing the head, more so blood-pressure raising”, you scoff, John huffing in amusement.

”Not a bad way to be amongst folk without their presence”. He gives you a swift glance, instantly locking his gaze with yours as your eyes already were focused upon him.

Your head cocks, naturally resting more against the headrest. ”What do you mean?”

He looks back to the road.

”Bein' deployed ain’t the most challengin' part of our job; most times, comin' home is”. Your brows furrow as he continues. ”Sometimes it’s… not easy accommodatin' to civilian life. Outright horrid to be alone sometimes and at others-”, he let out a humourless laugh. ”-can’t really say crowds settle your nerves either”.

”I…”, you trail off, lips pursing.

Something in your chest twinged at John’s words. You want to say something, but… you fear you’ll misstep. He talks casually about it. But something in the way his gaze momentarily locked on the road with a faraway look in his eyes and his body seemingly pressing into the seat made you think some muscle memory kicked in for just a few seconds, implying it isn’t as uncomplicated as he wants it to seem.

Your swift cut-off and redirection of attention apparently earned John’s attention, as his hand suddenly settling on your knee pulls you out of staring at the road.

Your eyes flicker to find his eyes shifted back to you. ”If you got questions, ask ’em, and I’ll just say if I need to get to know you more before answerin' them”. He winked to lighten either his comment or the air your hesitation had created. And it worked. Your head dips, a chuckle leaving you and letting out the air trapped in your lungs, as John looks ahead once more, a smile forming on his lips as his hand retreats to the gear shift.

”Aside from your scenic drives, how do you spend your days after coming home?”

He hums, tapping the wheel twice before he speaks. ”Have a property outside of town, it was rickety when I got it, but I’ve been refurbishing the place in-between deployments. Still some bits to do, but it keeps me occupied”. He shrugs.

”So a handyman as well. Anything you can’t do?”

”Not too confident in my decoration abilities, but I can pick a comfortable armchair, and not much more is needed to sit down with a book and glass of scotch”. You smile at the image as it checks with the picture he's painted of himself during the evening.

Despite the old-fashioned sense of John, it felt refreshing compared to what the standard was today. And you find yourself sinking a bit further into your seat as if the image of him in an armchair, with book and scotch in hand, wasn't just a picture he painted for you but one you observed from a matching seat opposite him.

”So you’re able to relax then?”

”Have learned to unwind, can’t always be on your toes”.

”Hasn’t always been in your blood then?”

John chuckles, sparing you a soft glance. ”No, definitely not, but it ain’t healthy to keep so much excessive adrenaline lingerin' despite gettin' away from the battlegrounds”.

”Can’t imagine what it's like”, you breathe out, head rolling towards the window, watching the scenery for just a few seconds before your eyes fell back to John. ”The shifts back and forth”.

”Ain’t for everyone, that’s for sure, can’t even say that you get used to it”.

You suck your lower lip, nodding. ”What’s the worst, with coming back, that is?”

”Isolation. When you're on the field, your mindset changes; you don't think about anythin' else. And at the base, there are always people around, so it ain’t as easy fleein' the presence of others and gettin' stuck in your head there. But, away from all of those things... it changes”.

”That’s why you and the others go out?”

He nods. ”We try. It’s a shot at shifting routines when returnin’”.

”So, does that mean you came back recently, then?” You peek curiously at him.

”Mhm, touched down on base three days ago. The lads had some stuff to get out of the way first”.

”And you, I presume?”

He gave you an amused look. ”Still got things to finish up, love”.

”I guess that comes with being Captain”. You shrug, and he chuckles.

”Remind me to never accept a higher rank; paperwork will be what puts me on my deathbed." You can’t help the unfiltered laugh that escapes nor how it fades into a sigh as you silently watch John as he drives for a few beats with a smile.

”So the others are returning to base for what reason?”

”Eh, the lads got some trainin', but neither MacTavish have any planned disappearances to Scotland nor has Kyle planned to visit his Ma down south, so they’ll probably remain there until they fill their schedules”.

”And will you hang around there as well?”

John took a deep breath, his chest puffing out slightly before answering. ”Most likely. I may visit the property some days, but if I'm couped up there, I would need to resort to those drives”.

You made a small ah sound, understanding his choice of activities better now and yet you can’t but wonder if he genuinely doesn’t use those drives to meet someone. Despite what Marissa and Johnny implied, your thoughts wouldn’t rest until you hear it from him. Not wanting to face the embarrassment of having misinterpreted the evening.

”And you, John, ain’t no-one missing your presence aside from that property of yours?”

He pulls his eyes from the road, a second of silence following your heavily implied question. ”None but my superiors, and even they push me off base on leaves”. 

You could sigh out of relief when he finally answered. You even feel a giddy smile tug on your lips. But you school your expression, offering John a nod instead. One he must've caught through the edge of his vision as he faced forwards not long after speaking.

As your fingers play with the strap of your purse, you finally reply, ”Well, thank them next time you see them. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have met you along with the others tonight”. Despite being honest, you feel a warmth enter your chest as you say the words. And you feel even more bashful when John gives you a swift sideway glance accompanied by one of those smiles that makes his eyes seemingly shine.

”Already planned to, love”. John's smile is noticeable despite being mostly hidden by his beard.

You avert your eyes first despite him being the one who drives, and that’s when you notice John’s pulled into the familiar road to your apartment, only sealing that the night you’d spent with him neared its end.

Although the silence is comfortable, you dry-swallow when he parks in one of the visitor spots outside your building.

”Your stop”, John says, tearing your eyes from the apartment's entrance as he shifts his body to rest his elbow on the middle console, the other hand still on the wheel.

The streetlight shining through the front windshield highlights his face, those pretty blues sparkling. The longer you’d spent in his company, the more you desired to remain in it. And, it was precisely that feeling making you stall and not simply thank him for the drive home and jump out after unbuckling your belt.

Your eyes flicker over his face, lips parting only to close again when you can't find anything to say that would prolong the moment.

John's eyes crinkled in the corners, a soft smile quirking his lips. ”Somethin’ on your mind, love?”

Of course, he knew there was. He didn't need your dragged-out goodbye to know.

It felt like he'd paid just as much attention to you as you'd done to him during the evening, or it wouldn’t feel as if you and he been introduced for the first time tonight. Otherwise, he wouldn't assume your mind ran rampant, suspecting that you were debating whether if you should stop chewing and just spit out the words that hopefully would earn you his number. Though that’s precisely what you did, you hesitated for one reason. It didn't feel enough, or else you would've let him be on his way already, content that you'd be able to speak with him again with his numb rib your phone. But you didn't want the night to end.

"Want to make me company?" You bite your tongue the second the question leave you. 

Whatever surge of courage made you voice your thoughts disappeared upon his reaction. John's brows swiftly raise, clearly showing whatever he thought was on your mind, then this wouldn't have been his first guess.

"What now?" You tear your eyes from him, gaze trailing upwards to your dark living room window facing the road. A deep inhale precedes your tongue coming out to wet you lips, catching the flesh between your teeth. Fuck it.

"You heard me". 

John's blue eyes flicker down to your lips when you turn to him and release your lower lip. His attention remains there, causing your mouth to open and close, wanting to fill the thickening silence but unable to. The action makes his eyes ascend to yours.

He remains silent, but something has entered those blues when his gaze locks with yours.

"John?" The gentle question his name conveys triggers something.

He averts his gaze, eyelids fluttering close as he slumps back in his seat. Both hands now grips the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. With his head pressed against the headrest, his neck cranes, and he faces the roof. Something is mumbled beneath his breath, too low for you to pick up. And then, he jolts into action, swiftly ripping the key from the ignition, opens the car door and jumps out, closing it with a slam behind him.

You watch him with wide eyes as he hurries around the front of the car, half a thought if you misinterpreted the whole evening entering your mind. Just because he doesn’t have anyone waiting for him at home doesn’t mean he’s interested in you, even if he would give you whiplash from how he’d acted.

When John opens your door, the apology is on your tongue until his actions completely erase the words.

His hands settle on your legs, pulling them toward him so you are on the verge of slipping down from your seat and into his broad chest.

"Wanna use those big words now as well, eh?" Your heart beats at the base of your throat as John stares at you. Incapable of saying anything as your chest heaves on your inhale as his reaction isn't what you'd anticipated. "Use your words, love. Need to know you meant it".

You swallow. ”I want you to follow me up to my apartment, John”, you repeat. A full-body shiver rolls through his body, a curse leaving him as he takes a sharp breath.

”I’d planned to ask you out, take you to some pleasant little restaurant or somethin’. But then you turned out to be much less sweet than I ever could’ve thought, invitin' me up to your place at this time”.

John didn't admonish you, but you don't know whether his words were meant to make you smile, either. But you couldn't help the quirk of your lips, not when you realised the turmoil in his eyes was brought forth by you pushing the restraints of his gentlemanly fashion.

That desperate slip in his stoic nature rouses something. Something that had been dormant beneath your fluttering heart and near shyness beneath his gaze when in solely his composed and assured company during the night.

"Still think I'm pretty sweet." You muse with a tilt of your head. John's eyes narrow, catching the playfulness suddenly coating your sentence. He shifts on his feet. Fingers tapping against your lower thigh as his chin raises.

"That so?" John seemingly decides to entertain your game.

"Mhm", you nearly giggle as his defined eyebrows rose, silently commanding you to state why. As you lean forwards slightly, your upper body now more outside than in the car, his hand grips your legs to steady you. "Any man would think me sweet with a pretty dress like this".

"Would they now?"

"Don't you think I look sweet, John, be honest with me now?" His head cocks, eyes travelling over your body at the invitation.

As John's gaze drops, his hands gradually slide up your legs to your waist. You follow the action, your gaze only flickering to meet his when his big paws splay over your sides, thumbs resting over your hip-bones.

God, you didn't regret asking him to stay a bit longer with you, but it wasn't boldness that flowed with the heated rush in your chest as your gazes locked.

You swallow, lips parting as if challenging to draw in a proper breath with how you shrink in his overwhelming presence.

"You may be sweet-lookin' in this dress. But you've shown how your mind is too sharp to be shielded, and I know brilliant minds never are entirely sweet". John's lip curls into a smirk, something devious gleaming in his eyes. It ain't boyish but teases you of the playfulness the man you'd gotten to know preserves behind his front. "Indulge me, love, if knowin' that every man thinks of you as stunnin', what does it say of a man such as me acceptin' your offer?"

You look at him through your lashes, this time unable to honey your words, causing the teasing tone to dissipate and bleed into sincerity. "I've had fun tonight, meeting the others and especially you… I would think no different of you, John, especially when ending the night differently would possibly also mean you'll have to drive back to base alone”.  

There was such weight to your words that John’s eyes close, his shoulders falling.

Your eyes flicker over the features of his bowed head, his lips a neutrally set, the lines between his brows fading as his lashes rest against his under-eyes until you're met by those blues looking back at you when his eyelids flutter open. He steps closer, head barely tilting upwards to look at you.

”That’s so?” He receives a nod as an answer, words unable to form beneath his heavy gaze. John's eyes flicker between yours, seemingly searching for something in them before he speaks. ”Is it out of pity? You don’t want an ol'man like me alone at night?” This time, you sought contact, your hands finding his on your waist, testing the waters by slowly running them up his arms.

His muscles jump beneath your fingers as you trail them upwards until they encircle his neck.

”John…”, you sigh. ”You’re not old; you’re a handsome man, charming-”

”Charmin', eh?” He cocks a brow, and you give him a teasing glare.

”As charming as you military men come without being jerks”, you returned. He huffs with a shake of his head, an upwards tick curving his lip. "I'm trying to say that I can't remember when I've enjoyed spending time with someone other than Marissa this much."

"And so you offer me to stay with you?" The incredulous statement isn't explicit. Still, the tilt of his head to the building at his back insinuates enough.

"Oh, piss off", you defend yourself, the corner of his eyes creasing as he chuckles. ”I was about to say that anyone would be lucky to have you come home to them, but you destroyed that moment”. 

John tips his head, dipping closer. ”You offerin' something, love?”

"Already did". The reply is quick, but John doesn't tease you. Instead, he raises his brows in a 'fair' gesture.

"Should we head up then?"

"Yes". You split into a grin, the expression mirrored on John's face before he surprises you when taking a firmer hold of your waist and heaving you down from the seat.

He set you down close to him, his neck bowing to look down at you for a second before he reaches around you, closing the door with less velocity than he’d done his own, swiftly locking the car afterwards. Then, as his attention retracts to you, he steps away, only to offer you his hand in the space he'd created.

This man. You wonder if you'll ever not be able to smile at him as you card your fingers through his.

...

You don't live in a skyscraper, but the stairs to your apartment seemingly never end. Thankfully, John is in better shape than you could ever get in, so you don't need to tug him after you. Still, you glance over your shoulder occasionally, each time you're met by those bright blues and his gentle smile, a reciprocated squeeze of your interlocked fingers.

When you're more than halfway, in one of those moments when you lock eyes with him over your shoulder, you realise your situation with the ridiculously handsome man. And if anything, it makes a silly smile spread on your lips.

"Regrettin' your choice?" John knows his guess is wrong. If not by the casual why he asks, then the shake of your head as you state your thoughts.

"It's astonishing how no one has claimed you as theirs, you know. You look too good to be in practically any setting". His step falters, bringing you to a complete stop two steps ahead. When you turn, you find him watching you intensely.

”Attemptin' to sweet talk me?" He smiles, brows quirking as he take a step so only one fleet of stairs separates you.

"Think I've already succeeded if you're here with me". You give John a one-shouldered shrug, to which he huffs in amusement. As his head dips, you sway on your feet. Should I…you swallow, wetting your lips, battling down the quiver entering your body as you step down so nothing separates you and lean close. "But I would do all the sweet talking necessary to help you relax, want to help you unwind, want to now”, you whispered against the shell of his ear.

Two things happened in quick succession. First, a low sound vibrates from his chest. Then, a slap to your ass.

You yelp, the hand not in his tightened grip shooting up in a too-late attempt to stifle the sound escaping you but only succeeding in smashing your purse against your chest.

Wide eyes stare up at him when you fall back to your feet. ”John Price!” You exclaim in a hushed voice muffled by the hand remaining in front of your mouth, fearing any of your neighbours catching the name following the not-so-smooth action.

”Should be careful with your words, love, can't expect a man to behave when you say things like that”, he chides, gently pushing your tangled hands against your stomach, signalling you to resume the journey to your apartment, with a new, darker, look in his eyes.

"We're there soon, and hopefully, you can behave until then". You reply, continuing to step up the stairs at John's wish.

"Depends". You feel him shrug.

"On what?"

"How much you're willing to push your luck."

A flush rush through you, and you withstand ducking to escape his heavy gaze pinned on the back of your head. Like a red sniper shot searing its aim into the base of your skull. But as you mount the steps, a quivering excitement settles in your marrow. Even though John can't see it, you hide the smile it unfurls on your lips by rolling them inwards.

When you finally reach your floor, you let go of John's hand to fish out the key from your purse. Despite the loss of contact, you can feel his tall frame at your back regarding how he steps closer when you come to a halt.

Despite it being your imagination or his breath you actually feel against your neck, you stutter in unlocking the door to your apartment. That’s why a relieved sigh unintentionally leaves you when you only need to juggle the lock once before entering your home.

"Pretty place". John's words were soft as you sense his head poking around yours to get a better glimpse into the apartment, following you into the foyer briefly afterwards.

There was no frenetic fumble towards each other. No teenage-like desperation. Instead, you hum at John's comment, glancing over your shoulder as you let muscle-memory help you discard your purse on the side-table only decorated with a bowl where you drop your keys.

"A city apartment can't be pretty. Functional, I'll give you, but not pretty". You smile when you hear him close the door behind him and turn the lock. "Your place, on the other hand, with something besides concrete and fake wooden floorboards, I reckon is a sight for sore city-eyes". You turn to face him, catching the shake of his shoulder at your dramatics.

"At this day and age, it's as functional as four walls and a bed comes", John says amusedly, swinging his body into slowly stepping towards you, moving so naturally in the space of your home. "So, in that regard, your place is more homely".

You huff, smile still present as you turn your face upwards. "I remain firm in my belief into proven otherwise". John cock his head, the side of his lips twitching upwards.

"Fishin' for an invite?"

"Would you grant me one?" He steps up close now, hands naturally seeking your hips from the close proximity. His hands radiate a comfortable warmth through your dress. You reciprocate his move by curling your arms around his neck.

He tips his head back and forth, making a show of contemplating your question. "Show up in a pretty dress once again, and I won't be able to say no to you".

"Sounds like a date", you muse.

"Must make it up to you somehow". John hums low and gravelly as one of his arms circles your waist and pulls you into his front.

Your legs suddenly felt weak, and at the moment, his hold stabilises you more than your heels. Coupled with those intense blues gazing at you, it was good, as you felt like melting against him.

"How so?" The smile John flashes may have been spurred by how you leant more of your weight against him as the breathy words left you. Or, it was the way you naturally tilt your head, lips seeking his even though he lingers just out of reach.

"From how I barely can think about anythin' else than what's underneath this pretty fabric at the moment".

"What says it won't end the same way?" That finally broke the tension.

John presses his fingers into the white textile at the meat of your hip, his head dipping towards you with a tilt, eyes simultaneously slipping close. You sigh when his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss was a slowly repeated slant and press of lips. A gradual desire that had built from the moment you two were introduced and acted upon for the first time.

But, you felt how John's control was just a slip away as his hand at your hip travelled up to your neck, a swift flex of his fingers inclining he wanted to bring you closer. You breathe your amusement through your nose, a gentleman through and through.

Deciding you want to push him past the gentleman he thought he needed to be, you let your hands slip down his chest until your fingers curl through his belt loops. Then, with a tug on his jeans and a lick of your tongue, you deepen the kiss, knowing his restraint snaps when a groan leaves him.

Your tongues slip against one another before John dirtily sucks your pink muscle. Something short-circuits in your head. A whine from far back in your throat leaves you. At the sound, John lets his teeth graze your lower lip in a light nibble before he pulls away. The both of you drawing in shaky breaths of air.

”Bloody hell, love”, he exhales, causing your eyes to open. You just catch his head dropping, shielding his eyes from yours for a moment before they return. You smile, fingers unfurling from his belt loops and spreading on his lower abdomen, the taut muscle flexing beneath, apparent even through his shirt.

He drops his body to you, seeking more of your touch. But, concerning no wall props you up, you stumble backwards slightly as his gait sets off your balance and makes your heels wobble.

John catches himself with a shuffle forward of his right foot. He chuckles against your lips, an unspoken recognition of his larger frame a incompatible combination with your heels.

"Whatcha' sayin', should we get you out of these?" He mumbles. Then, before you manage to comprehend his comment, let alone answer, John kneels down.

He raises one of your feet onto his thigh, making your hand reach to stabilise yourself on the table at your side.

You watch as he pulls on the textile ribbon wrapped around your ankle. It slips from your leg, and he eases the shoe off your foot, settling it beside him while letting your bare foot rest against the ground.

A pleased groan leaves you, finally able to rest your whole weight on your sole rather than just the front.

"That good?" You don't know when your eyes slipped close. But they open upon John's voice.

You glance down at him as he gently grips your other ankle, waiting for you to shift your weight to mimic his previous motion. "You couldn't imagine".

He shakes his head, yet a smile is evident through the bunched-up parts of his beard as he unties your other shoe.

You're about to answer him when the second shoe slips off your foot, but your lips remain parted without a sound leaving you when you watch John lean in and kiss your ankle. His beard tickles as it grazes against your skin when pressing another kiss to your calf and kneecap.

But he doesn't stand up when dropping your leg.

With wide eyes, you watch as John brushes his lips over the soft skin above your knee, leaving yet another tender kiss. 

A stuttering breath leaves you as you wordlessly follow his journey upwards as he disappears beneath your skirt.

John's head moves beneath the fabric. His puckered mouth leaving featherlight presses against the soft meat of your thighs.

The hand previously gripping the material of your skirt fumbles backwards to steady yourself against the wall half a meter behind your back, supporting the grip you already keep on the side-table.

You feel him nudge between your legs, his beard scratching the inside of your thighs. Without asking, you widen your stance. John's heated breath immediately flans against your inner thighs and upwards to your steadily heating and throbbing cunt as a groan immediately follows your action.

"These the only things you've gotten on all the time?" You think you answer him because the next thing you feel is his lips kissing your mound through your panties.

Your breath catches, soft sounds following the action as John switches between pressing kisses to your thighs and where you need him the most. The muscles in your neck go lax, head dropping back as a sharp last peck is placed on the fabric covering your clit before he retreats.

Head tipping forwards, you find John looking up at you, his hair ruffled and out of place, a lopsided grin curling his lips. You can’t help but stare down at him, attempting to stabilise your breath as your chest heaves. Fucking hell, he’s handsome and on his knees for you.  

"Looks so sweet lookin' at me like that". John rubs his hands on your thighs, and you can’t help but groan.

”Swear you’re trying to kill me”. He chuckles, rising to his feet, now even taller without the added inches beneath your feet.

"Only fair".

"Fair would be if you ended what you started", you huff at him, the heat he'd set off in your body only growing with the throb between your legs.

He squints with a slight tick of his head. "Careful with your wishes".

"What, the Captain too scared to finish a mission?" Something flashes in his eyes, the blues darkening considerably. Then, his strong arms encircle your body, hands resting beneath your ass, swiftly hauling you upwards as if weighing nothing.

You gasp, arms instinctively shooting around his neck and hooking your legs around his waist as your hips connect with his, a semi-bulge pressing into your core.

"Don't go make assumptions, love". His voice is a delicious drawl, even deeper than his natural husk. A shudder runs down your spine as he grabs fistfuls of your ass, pressing you closer to him. "I'll plan to finish what I started, but I'll take my sweet time with you and ain't gonna do that in the hallway", he states with finality.

You giggle, leaning in so your lips brush his as you speak. "Bedrooms straight ahead and on the right". A low sound escapes John, muted by the press of his lips against yours as he toes off his shoes before making you giggle as he carries you to your bedroom.

The door was already ajar, so you didn't need to fumble it open. Hence, John was at the side of your bed with a few strides.

He knelt sideways to drop you in the middle, making you bounce slightly. A smile stretches your lips when John climbs onto the bed and between your legs that widen to make room for him.

He keeps himself above you, silent as his eyes flicker over your form beneath him.

”You sure you want this?” He asks, looking into your eyes. ”You sure you want me? An old captain in the military?” Your hands rise, resting on his bearded cheeks, taking a second to linger on the fact that this man possibly had doubts about you wanting him. 

John's eyes flutter when your fingers comb through his well-groomed and incredibly soft beard. But he forces them to stay open, watching you, waiting for your answer.

”Yes, I am”. You suck your lower lip into your mouth, and John groans, shifting more weight to his legs as one hand beside yours raises and pulls it from your mouth.

”Don’t do that”, his voice has dipped, huskier. Yet the only thing you do is smile.

”Do you want me, John?” His eyes flicker up from your lips.

”How could I fuckin’ not? Look at you, that smile, pretty eyes”. His hands travel to the hinge of your jaw, your arm on the same side falling to his ribcage.

”Thinking the same thing about you. Didn’t call you handsome for no reason”. It feels soppy when the words fall from your lips, but you notice something in his body melting away as he lowers himself, moulding his lips against yours.

A soft groan vibrates against your mouth when your hand travels to the back of his neck, nails grazing his hairline.

It's fucking heavenly to kiss him. The feeling of only wanting more, more of him against you bubbling to the surface. And John must feel it as his hand slither to your nape, deepening the kiss with his fingers threading through the hair nearest your skull.

His dominance along his big frame surrounding you as he presses closer, makes you melt beneath him.

John detaches from your lips with a pant, only to rove down your jawline and downwards. His beard tickles, the bristles scraping against the delicate skin of your throat as his hand journeys from your neck and down your throat.

He brushes over your collarbones with his thumb before settling on the slope of your shoulder, playing with the straps of your dress. With a soft tug, the bands loosen. ”Gonna help an old man?” John mumbles against the column of your neck.

”Hm, almost like seeing you struggle”, you hum with a smile, tipping your chin downwards, signalling you want a kiss.

”Menace”. You feel John's smile against your lips as he lingers a peck while loosening the second strap over your opposite shoulder. You giggle as he pulls away, settling on his haunches to give you space to rise up.

You follow him, sitting up so he's positioned in-between your legs. It's the perfect position for your hands to land on his thighs, stroking the muscles you know are hidden beneath his jeans.

”The zipper is at the back”, you tell him, not shying away as he leans forwards, towering over you.

Expert fingers latch onto the small piece of metal you’d given him directions to. Cerulean eyes lock with yours as his chin dips to rest against his chest, lips centimetres apart, breaths mingling. John doesn’t point it out, but a quick flicker of his eyes tells you he notes the goosebumps the short nail of his thumb creates as it grazes along your spine.

”A piece for a piece?” Your fingers play with the hem of John’s shirt as his palm rest against your now naked spine, the fabric of the dress having parted as it barely was kept up by itself. Your elbows, pressing against your sides, are the only thing still pinning the fabric against your body.

”Bargainin' with me now?” Your teeth catch your lower lip, eyes falling, roaming over his torso, imagining what's underneath.

The white shirt only enhances his chest and muscled torso as he takes deep breaths.

Gaze trailing upwards, you see his eyes stuck at your mouth. A slight groan leaves him from how you’ve caught your lips between your teeth, something you slowly have gathered his obsession for.

With a smile pulling the flesh from your teeth, you straighten your back somewhat, getting closer to him, earning his attention from whatever thoughts he momentarily entertained.

”Concerning you’ve already seen the only other piece I’m wearing, I’d say it’s fair”.

The corner of his eyes creases with his smile. You knew he was about to say something from how his lips had parted, but his action curtly halts as realisation bled into his eyes.

John's gaze drops as something dark enters it. He let his eyes rove over your body, cursing, rushed and heated as he barely gave you enough time to lean away before grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

”Fuck”. The curse is breathed from you as you stare at John's bare upper body. 

You’d called it from the start. He was muscular, but fucking hell, he felt even broader up close, torso on full display for you to indulge in.

As if possessing a will of their own, your hands trail upwards. You prevent a moan from escaping as your thumbs brush the delicious happy trail on John’s abdomen. Though your eyes follow it downwards while your hands continue up, the fine line of hair disappears beneath his waistband, lower than your eyes could follow. Defeated, your gaze trails upwards, catching up with your hands as they travel over the outlines of his abs and his pecs covered in a similar dark dust of hair.

”Feelin’ me up?” Without any shame, you delay the shift of attention from the sight in front of you to John’s eyes. Once you do, a darkened gaze, barely lightened by his cocky smirk, greets you.

”Can you blame me?”

”Only if you don’t keep your end of the deal”.

You notch your head backwards as the side of your lip tick upwards. ”What would you do if I didn’t?”

”Only fair I would enforce it, wouldn’t it now?” He questions, leaning closer, his hand settling on your waist.

”Wouldn’t mind that”, you reply as you stop pressing your elbows against your ribs.

Now John was the sole one keeping your dress up, giving him the choice of proceeding.

You note the slight flicker of John’s eyes downwards before jumping back, seeking eye contact. As if to check one last time for any hesitation from your side. When finding none, he bunches the fabric of your skirt around your waist and pulls the dress over your head in a sweep of the layered textile.

You lay down in your now mostly naked form, panties the last article covering your body. Blue eyes, heated with intensity, follow your movements.

A warm wave rush over you at John’s attention. Your skin prickles, body vibrates as you practically feel his eyes trail up and down your body.

”So bloody gorgeous”. It’s a rumble when John’s eyes finally meet yours, iris blackened considerably by his dilated pupils. His hands settle on your hips, near boiling palms pressing into your flesh in repeated up and down movements and occasional squeezes.

You prop yourself up by one elbow, the other raising up to grab his neck and bring him into a kiss, one he readily accepts.

One hand falls from your hip to beside your body, supporting him as his body bends forward at the waist. As you part, you’re met by John’s lustful gaze, though it’s swift as he starts trailing kisses down the column of your neck, down to the swell of your breasts. He spares little time on kissing around them before he sucks your nipple into his mouth. His action pulls a soft sound from your lungs.

His fingers travel down from their place on your side to your pussy, fingers pressing into your heat. That's when you realise how wet you were. ”S’all for me?” He drawl with a low groan as he switches to your other breast, paying as close attention to your nipple as earlier.

”Y-yeah”, you breathe as he starts circling your clit through the fabric, thighs flexing, hips jumping toward this touch. As he lets his canine lightly toy with your nipple, he slips his fingers lower, pressing against your hole through the fabric, making you clench around nothing. ”Fuck, yes, all for you”.

You squirm as he rises from your breast, the air around you cooling your nipples wetted by his mouth, only pebbling them further. His eyes drift down your body to where he’s playing with you,

”S'pretty for me”, he mutters, moving down your body as his other hand drags along your side until it hooks beneath the fabric obscuring his view of your dripping core.

A sound conveying your protest leaves you when his other hand stops its administration, but it ebbs down as you watch John pull your panties down your leg.

You help him by lifting your legs slightly, paying no more attention to the white lace he finally frees from your legs and tosses to the side the moment his hands settle on your legs, parting them. 

Your eyes flicker over him as he sits back on his heels, a rumble vibrating from his chest as he admires the sight before him. You feel you’re wet enough that slick covers the apex of your thighs.

”Such a pretty cunt, eh?” You heat at his words and attention when his eyes flicker to you. ”Bet you taste fuckin' heavenly. You gonna let me eat this cunt?”.

You let out a stuttered breath as you follow John lying down between your legs. A smack of his palm against the meat of your thigh brings you out of the daze, blinking and refocusing on how he stares right back at you with a cocked head, beard tickling your inner thighs. 

”Come on, love, need to hear it from you”. His breath fans across your warmth, making you shudder. John notices, blowing pointedly on your heat, watching how you writhe in anticipation,

”Yes, yes, John”. His satisfied smile is the last thing you see before he closes the distance between his lips and your pussy.

When his mouth lands on your wetness for the first time, your head snaps back, and a shaky exhale leaves you. He licks a broad stripe up your heat. Instinctually, your hips roll to push his tongue further into your wetness.

Although not giving in, John flexes his muscle, pointedly flicking your clit, causing you to whine. It’s then you realise he knows what he's doing. Everything he did, from how your mind never strays from following the pattern his tongue draws to how he quickly has you writhing beneath him, speaks of his experience.

”Ah... fuck”, you moan as John presses his lips to your clit before drawing it into his mouth, the sensitive nerve-endings making your abdomen spasm, and your hand shoots down to clamp into his hair.

You tug John further into you, earning a pleased hum that travels through your body in return. But, when your hips buck, he locks an arm around your mid-drift to pin you to the bed.

”Gotta be still for me, love”. He parts from your wetness to mumble before diving in again. In response, he gets a keening sound. One that only increases as his tongue dips lower and presses into your wet hole.

He thrust his tongue into your quivering hole. Nose nudging your clit. You only become needier, attempting to buck against him but to no wail, his grip only tightening on your hips.

You physically feel how you become wetter, slick trickling to the slope of your arse. It fills the air with sloppy and wet sounds as Johhn switches to lap at you.

The noises, the loss of his tongue at your entrance, constricting around nothing, all produce a growing sensation of emptiness, a desire to feel full.

”John, I need more. Need your fingers”. You can feel his grin as he leans away, uncurling his hands from around your thigh that kept your spread open to trail along your wet folds.

”Such a good girl, eh? Beggin’ for what she wants”. You moan in response, feeling how your slick coats his fingers before he lodges his digit at your hole, slowly pushing in, stretching you for the first time.

”Yes”, you breathe out, his finger thicker and reaching further than your own ever could. Your hand falls from his hair, clutching the hand still around your hips, fingers worming themselves through his.

He pumps in and out of you, your wetness making the penetration easy. However, John doesn't continue long before he pulls his finger out. You protest, a noise ripped from your throat. Though it’s short-lived as you feel him trail not one but two digits up and down your wet and swollen pussy, both entering you when covered in what he deems is an adequate amount of your arousal.

A guttural moan leaves your parted lips. It’s a stretch, and you feel a slight burn even though John was gentler about thrusting two fingers in and letting you accustom to the feeling. He begins with only wiggling them gently inside before scissoring them when he feels you relax somewhat.

Although soon, his movement and the attention he gives your clit make the sensation fade, making you moan his name, letting him know he could continue and that’s when he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you.

You feel it somewhere in your body, how the tension slowly builds, nearing the edge from the continuous stimulus John drowns you in. Your head feels floaty, fibres vibrating, hands receiving a squeeze from him to ease how your curl your fingers into your skin.

”Ah, come on, love, you can do it, you can take it”, his mumble is distant, a gravelly sound that resonates through your ears and wrap warmly around your head. ”Come on, my good girl, you can take them”. 

At first, you think John’s encouragements are in the heat of the moment, mumbled nonsense edging you closer to the peak he must feel you neared from how you flutter around him. But when he continues, you realise it isn’t.

”Look at me”, your head is heavy as you crane it downwards to look at the man between your legs, his gaze already set on you. ”Look at you, s’good, takin’ all three”. Your eyes drop to where he’s pumping in and out of you. 

You need the visual of three of his finger entering to recognise how full you've come to feel, how he stretches you when having added a finger without you even noticing in your pleasure-ridden state.

Your mouth drops open, panted cries stuttering from you as you watch his fingers disappear, stretching you wide from their girth and reappearing slicker than previously. You feel how the muscles in your neck go slack. But rather than letting your head fall back onto the mattress, John's demanding voice stops you.

”Keep lookin’ at me, love. I want your eyes on me when you cum”. Your head bobs forward the slight amount it tilted back, reattaching with the heavy weight of his blues.

When he notes your attention won't stray, John keeps your gaze as he lowers himself, his mouth attaching to your clit once more. Fingers now stroking more than pumping inside you.

It feels downright fucking dirty to moan, not upward into the air, but forwards, so your breath travels down your stomach to fan against John’s face between your legs as your eyes lock. It makes your body buzz and head airy as your orgasm hurls closer.

You were close. So close. It becomes impossible to be still as the sensation in your stomach tightens, and the muscles in your abdomen spasm repeatedly. Your legs begin to shake. And then it just becomes too much. The flick of John's tongue, the push of his fingers as deep as they go, tickling that spongy spot at the roof of your walls.

You gape, time feeling like it stops for a few seconds as you go silent before jerking against John’s face, gushing into his mouth as your orgasm slams into you.

You can’t physically keep his gaze for more than a few seconds of your high as your back arches off the bed, eyes wrenching shut as your head slam back into the soft mattress.

As his sole free hand only lock your hips in place, your legs jerk upwards from the bed. Your thighs slot around John's head, knees bending so your feet brush against his back. He grunts, the vibrations along his fingers continuing the come-hither motion inside you while his tongue flicks your clit, only prolonging your high.

It’s intense. Never-ending. Your high seemingly continues for far too long for your body to know how to react. You wouldn't put it past yourself to estimate a similar time as John had when considering the last time anyone apart from yourself had made you cum. Still, it's hardly comparable as you writhe beneath him.

When your high finally ebbs, your muscles slacken so suddenly that your legs drop from their elevated position around John's head without much care. One of your knees falls to the side, and your leg falls to the mattress. The other dropped straight over John's shoulder, now resting on his back. In fact, your whole body goes limp as pants heave your chest.

That's when he finally also pulls his fingers from you. Although, he doesn't leave your puffy pussy without a final broad swipe of his tongue, lapping up your excessive arousal until a satisfied hum stems from him. In your over-sensitive state, the vibrations make you whine and twitch away from John's mouth.

A soft chuckle leaves him as his hand still intertwined with yours strokes your skin. The other settles at the hinge of your knee, leaving a slick spot from his fingers covered in your arousal, as he gently lifts it off his shoulder with a kiss to the apex of it, shy of too close to your pussy.

”Did so good for me”, John praises, planting another kiss at the middle of your thigh, then the inside of your knee on the same leg where his palm rubs assuringly as he moves down on the bed.

A lazy smile spreads on your face as one arm hooks over your face, the summer night apparently still too bright in your keyed-up state as it illuminates your room through your window, only covered by a thin curtain.

The loss of John’s touch as his hand slips from yours and how you feel him still shuffling ultimately pulls your arm away.

Despite sinking further into your bed due to the body-melting feeling of your orgasm, you watch John as he backs off the bed and onto the floor. 

Standing at the edge, he raises one of his hands to his beard, pulling his hand over the slick shining strands. Your heart jumps at the display and you feel the sluggishness in your limbs withering away with the steady rise of desire once again.

”John”. Your voice is a drawl, bordering on a gentle whine, as you call for his touch, for him to join you again. He cracks a smile at your voice, or display. You don’t know

”Patience, love”, he chuckles, unbuckling his belt.

The sound works as a spell. Your eyes immediately drop, watching him unzip his pants. His prominent bulge gets glaringly more apparent as he drops his jeans and steps out of them. He palms himself over his navy trunks, making you squirm as his head tilts back and he groans in relief.

Your pulse beats rapidly against your throat as you watch the show he puts on, testing your patience that’s swiftly thinning as your eyes are glued to him.

A soft breath leaves you, a whine following. It makes John's legs flex and hip jut forward against his palm. That's what breaks you.

”Don’t tease”. You sound broken even to yourself, but you feel just as desperate.

You’re just about to shuffle into a seated position and towards the edge of the bed, closer to the man before you. But his eyes land on you before you get any further than rising to your elbows. They're dark, unbudging, authoritative and without even voicing his thoughts, John’s demand is silent but obvious. 

Stay put.

You could thrash your head from how devastatingly much he makes you feel. How good he makes you feel. Instead, your hands only dig into your rucked-up sheets, fisting the material. Your nails press through the fabric and into your palms. Thankfully being propped by your elbows stops you from falling backwards when a low-spoken ‘good girl’ is breathed beneath his breath upon your pliancy.

Your jaws press together tightly. Gaze set firmly and unbudgingly upon John as he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of the single piece of clothing left on his body. As his briefs slip off, his cocks bob upwards toward his stomach.

He was big, not ridiculously so that you fear taking him, but he was above average and thick. Understand the prep better now. But it felt like it wouldn’t have mattered because at the sight of John's cock just as aesthetically beautiful as him and flushed at the tip, you grow wetter.

”My eyes are up here”.

”I know”, you reply, tongue pressing against your teeth. John moves towards the bed with a chuckle before he stops himself. At the sudden halt and redirection, his cock tap against his abdomen, coating his skin in a light sheen from the precum beading the tip.

At first, you don't understand why he stops and rummages through the pocket of his jeans only to pull out his wallet. Then it clocks.

”I’m on the pill”, his eyes jump up to you. His movement stilling. ”And I’m clean. Routine check a few weeks ago”.

A smile tug John’s lips as he drops the wallet onto his jeans. ”Haven’t had anyone for over a year. Clean since then”, he says, kneeling on the bed with one leg, head cocking as his eyes rove over you before meeting your gaze again. “You sure, love?”

”Mhm”, you hum, eyes dragging over his naked form. Sparing an embarrassing amount, despite how small it was, to feel giddy about the fact that John hadn’t had anyone else for a long time until you. Even though a hundred different rational reasons could be the cause rather than him simply not being interested enough to entertain anyone. ”Yeah, I wanna feel you, all of you”. He smirks in that boyish way at your shameless staring and shakes his head.

At this rate, the sway of his body, his heavy cock, made you wet your lips, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. You’d never wanted to devour someone, but at the specimen of a man before you, fuck, you never wanted it more.  

”Fuck, I want to taste you”. You sit up, but John simply grunts, pushing your shoulder so you fall down immediately.

”Another time”, he grouses, settling on the bed before crawling forwards. ”I need to fuck you now. Isn't that what you wanted, love?” You drop the thought of getting your mouth on him in a second, instinctually parting your legs, mumbling a ’yes, please’. John slots himself in between them with a low laugh. ”Desperate, huh?” He muses, gripping his cock, pumping his shaft, chest heaving with steadying breaths.

Leaning forward with a hand beside your head, John hovers over you, running his cock through your folds, slick coating his tip. As he nudges your clit, your hips jump, causing his cock to catch at your opening, forcing a moan from you both.

”Come on, love, ask nicely”. He dips his head beside your ear, hot breath cascading down your naked skin. Shifting his hips so you were unable to make him slip inside you. ”Said you were a sweet girl. Show me it ain’t only your cunt that’s sweet”.

”John”. Your arms encircle his neck as you lean up. With a slight tug, you indicate you want him to meet you halfway for a kiss. His lips find yours and you can feel a faint taste of yourself, even more so when you slip your tongue against John's. However, you don't go further than that before parting from him. Instead, you kiss the side of his lips, his bearded cheek, and the hinge of his jaw before you reach the soft spot beneath his ear. There you come to whisper, ”I need you inside me”.

You notice how he shudders as you breathe fans softly over his ear, and he doesn’t wait long until lining himself up with your weeping hole.

John keeps his thumb above your entrance when he slowly pushes into you. A low groan tears itself from his open mouth as he slips deeper into your wet heat while a keen escapes you when clenching around his length.

”Feel s’good, fuck”, John grunts. He rocks in the last bit, your hips meeting as he pants, filling you up, cock nestled so deep. ”So tight ’round me”, he moans when his thumb slip upwards, strumming your clit and making you clench around him.

”J-John”, you moan, head thrown back.

”Can I move, love?” You hastily nod, circling your hips as your arms tighten around him. But remembering what he said earlier, a few words are rushed from your tongue.

”Yes, yes, you can move”. He drags his cock out until only his tip rest inside you before roughly entering you to the hilt.

Your stomach clenches as John sets a steady pace, thrusting into you with a snap of his hips that makes you unable to silence your moans. It feels too good to have him in you, on you, around you. One of your arms remains around his neck as your other hand trail down the fine hair on his chest to wrap around his torso, fingers groping his muscled back.

The flush sensation flowing through slowly builds a thin sheen of sweat over your skin, a similar slickness coating John as he fucks you.

His dog tags swing above you, the cool metal quickly turning lukewarm from the heat emitting from your skin. He pushes one of your legs upwards and to the side, clutching the flesh as he spreads you wide, gazing down to stare at the place you’re joined.

You think you could scream. John looks so good, towering over you, mouth hanging open slightly, dog tags twinkling in the air. The grip digging into the meat of your thigh barely grounds you as he switches to long and plunging strokes, pulling out before he pushes his cock as deep as it goes. His well-trimmed pubic bone kisses your mound each time he bottoms out.

His gaze burns into the place where you’re joined. Only making more wetness rush from you until a wet sound escapes your core each time he drives himself into you.

You don’t know what urges you to do it, maybe from stopping the way your jaw works and accidentally chipping a tooth along the way. But you push upwards and, with a tilt of your head, catch the metal swinging above you with your teeth.

A metallic taste fills your mouth as you bite down, the carving of his identification uneven beneath your teeth as you quiet yourself.

John’s movements stutter as he’s tugged forwards slightly when you fall back onto the pillows, accommodating by swiftly bending down and stabilising himself on his forearm. The accompanying sound escaping him is not human. Deep, guttural, vibrating against you. Nothing can describe how primal it sounded stemming from him.

”Fuckin’ hell!” He pants, stilling inside you while the grip on your thigh tightens, meat spilling between John's fingertips. The bedding beside your head moves as you feel his hand fist in its new potion slightly above your crown.

He’s staring down at you. None of that pretty blue present, only a darkness shading them oceanic.

”The things you fuckin’ do to me”. You let go of the tags, the metal bumping against your chin, dotting it with a wet patch from the saliva your tongue coated his identifications in when pushing them from your mouth. When they slide off, the metal taps against your upper throat.

”And what are those, Captain?" A storm rolls over the oceans. Skies darkening, the air whispering silent promises of lighting that could flash any second. In its wake, cracks of thunder would growl, beautifully intimidating in its power. John’s the enigma now, with the lighting striking in his eyes, the thunder rumbling from his lungs.

”Threadin' dangerous ground now, love”. The pet-name he’d used during the evening lost its smoothness and got replaced with a reprimand, a warning.

The deep cadence rocked your core, making you squirm against him. He hisses at the shift of your hips. The hand splayed on your thigh falls to your hips, anchoring them to the bed with the rest of his body weight as he drops his lower body, immobilising any further movement.

”Happen to love those grounds when it comes to you”, you gasp, feeling full as he remains there, filling you up so deliciously.

”You do, don’t ya? Have a hard time convincin’ me of you being sweet when you act like a dirty fuckin’ girl”. A whimper rips from your throat, a shudder leaving goosebumps on your skin as your nails dig into his side, your core throbbing at the lewd sentence.

”John”, you attempt to rock your hips upwards, but his paw and weight keeps you in place. 

Noticing his effect on you, his head dips the crevice of your neck. Lavishing the skin there with kisses and nips, the bristles covering his lower face tickling the skin. It makes a quiver journey up your skull, causing an involuntary twitch of your neck as it cranes away from him.

”Don’t think so”. John shifts, the hand he'd kept himself up with by the side of your head worming under your arm and shoulder. It enables him to clutch the side of your head, stopping any reactions that would bring your further from him as he whispers dirty things into your ear. 

"Think I wanna let you go, eh? You're so pretty beneath me, love. Those eyes of yours, your dirty fuckin’ mouth", his voice dips into a growl, making you boneless, tipping more than pressing against the fingers at the back of your head.

He took the invite to once more pay attention to your neck, enough so it wouldn't be a surprise if a few love-bites would bloom. And as he does, he jostles himself inside you, causing your thigh to flex and the knee of your leg, having rested against the bed since his touch had left, press against his hip.

You need him to move, not comprehending how John could act as if he wasn’t inside you when you clench around him, only continuing to lave at your skin. The restraint on this fucking man would drive you insane.

”Move”, you pant, hand clenching, the pads of your fingers denting his skin as they curl.

”Didn’t hear ya”. John mumbles the response with the quirk of his lips against your throat. You groan both at his reply and the surging need.

”John, move, please”.

”You can do better than that, love”. He rose, face hovering above yours. Your gaze is unsteady and hazy as you blink, feeling wetness coat your lower lash lines. A rumbling chuckle left John upon the sight. ”Despite being so cockdrunk”.

Desire crawls under your skin and you wail, one hand slipping to grip his arm beside your head, the other just attempting to feel him all at once, gliding over his skin with no aim in sight. You open your mouth, but your tongue feels heavy.

”Need you”. The plea is barely coherent as you try to rock your hips upwards. Emphasis on tried, as John still pinned you down. Signalling he wasn’t satisfied. ”I-fuck, ’m need you to move, fuck me, whatever ya want, need to cum”. The end of your sentence became rushed, warbled as warm lust boiled over and constricted your throat. But this time, it was enough for John.

”That’s my girl”. You moan even before he pulls back and rocks into you. Your back arching, neck craning when he finally does.

His pubic bone rubs against yours as he sets a steady pace. Bottoming out each time with a grind that makes him kiss a part inside you that has your toes curling.

John drops his body to yours as his hand circles around your shoulder rather than your head. He presses impossibly close to you, the soft curves of your body moulding against the hard planes of his working muscles.

Your hand move to the back of his neck, fingers carding through his brown locks. Your nails dig, catching his skin, earning you a particularly harsh thrust.

You moan louder and John continues as the same pace as he punches into you with repeated snaps of his hips. Your body jolts, now thankful for his grip on you, or otherwise, you would’ve scooted up the bed until presumingly hitting the wall.

As he hits a spot that makes lighting sip up your spine and you arch against his unmoving front, a wrecked moan stems from your lungs to join his grunts. John notices the difference in your sound of pleasure and continues at the same angle, watching how your head lolls almost too easy to the side. And, if it hadn't been for the desperate noises escaping your open mouth, John would also have worried.

You groan a broken sound into his mouth when he presses his lips to yours, the kiss quickly turning from the press of lips to dirty slides and sucks of tongues.

John's hand on your hip settles on your waist, dragging you to meet each of his thrusts. In response, your legs curl over his hips, your heel pressing into the back of his thighs to drive him further into you. 

As oxygen becomes hard to pull in, your stuttering breaths incapacitate you from continuing the fervent exchange with him, simply keeping your mouth open, panting against him. John doesn’t mind. Not when his grunts bounce against your breathed whines as well.

You don’t know who loses the battle of eye contact first, but soon you find your cheek pressed against his bearded one, head tilting slightly backwards as his hung between his shoulders, breaths puffing against your clavicle.

He mumbles incoherent things, sweet nothings and lewd sentences. "Squeeze me so good”. ”Come on, love, need to feel you come around me". ”Fuck, I’m close”.

You latch onto the last one as you feel your high nearing its crest. 

”Inside, John, cum inside me”. He pushes deeper somehow, his first reaction entirely instinctual upon your sentence.

Your curse gets swallowed by his lips as his hand beneath you grips your neck, fingers pressing into the base of your skull as he claims your lips in a possessive kiss. It’s short as he swiftly parts from you when a moan is ripped from you both, as his dominant display made you clench hard around him.

”S-sure, love?” He groans.

”Yes”, you wail.

”Jesus, I-ah fuck”, his voice is gruff from breathlessness, pleasure-strained sentence clipped. John's eyes close harshly enough that his brows furrow, unable to hold his head up anymore as it drops.

Your legs start to quiver as John slips his finger to rub fervent circles to your clit with a ‘come one, love, need you to cum f’me’ mumbled against your skin.

Your orgasm builds quickly, cresting like the dent your nails press into John’s back. And then it snaps. 

You go rigid with an arch towards his frame, broken cry leaving you. You convulse, toes curling as your legs tighten around John's waist.

His thrust doesn’t stall, he continues to pound you down into the mattress. Though with more restricted movements. He barely pulls out, more so harshly grinding into you, pumping into the spot inside you that only prolongs your pleasure and trashing.

Barely able to moan any longer, mouth just hanging open in a silent scream, your arms envelop his neck once more, forcing him to rest more of his weight on you as he can't keep himself elevated with your insistent tugging and the weakness his nearing high causes.

His thrust turns sloppy when you whisper his name, urging him to cum, that you can't take it any longer, that you want to feel him, to warm you up.

You would've been embarrassed at the words that left your tongue if not for the seemingly continuous stream of ecstasy on your end and the man moaning shamelessly at your purred sentences. And it doesn't end until John's thrust turns erratic, a few more thrusts into your spasming cunt until he comes with a shudder.

A deep groan resonates from him as his back curl, seemingly wanting to crawl into you as he spills deep within you, warmth filling you and leaving you with a sated sensation. He collapses onto you then, his entire weight tending to a deep need of comfort emerging as you both heave for air.

The thin sheen of sweat covering your body cools you down, causing your skin to prickle and a shudder to work through you. Both of you let out near-whiny sounds as it makes you involuntarily clench around him.

But you can't help how you unconsciously clench around John in the wake of your orgasm despite your oversensitive bodies. It makes him grunt and gently pull out of you, sparing both of you the strained pleasure as he rolls to the side. 

Although feeling a sudden emptiness without his weight inside you and your mixed juices slowly trickling out with each spent tremor of your hole, one of John's arms remains around your waist and pulls you close to his side. Tending to your need for closeness.

Your laboured breaths fan against his ribs and back in your face as you feel his chest expand harshly beneath your palm. For a few seconds, you simply revel in the post-euphoria. Eyes closed, basking in John’s presence as you feel the usual drowsiness after reaching your high emerging. Still, you notice how he shuffles all too soon, his arm beginning to slip from around you and his warmth moving away.

”M’no”, you mumble, hooking your arm around John’s waist as he attempts to sit up, face burrowing more into his side.

”M’not gonna disappear, just gonna grab somethin' to clean you up”. Your heart flutters at his care, but at the moment, you need him here with you more.

”Not now, in a bit”. Your eyes flutter open, hooded gaze locking with John’s as you look up at him. Something stalls in his body, stopping him in his movement.

”S’alright then”, he speaks softly, falling down and pulling your upper body onto his chest, and you nuzzle into the column of his neck with a smile and sigh.

”Awfully cosy you are”, John hums beside your ear, shuffling a bit, and you feel the covers that slipped down your bed being pulled to your waist. His hand seeks your skin beneath the fabric giving the both of you some modesty, fingers running up and down your spine.

”Live with it, soldier”.

The air of his soft huff travels over your shoulders. ”Ain’t complainin'”.

”Good”. You kiss the base of his throat, receiving a rumble from his chest.

As you lay there, you slowly feel how you come to. God, you didn’t want to move, but if you didn’t, you would fall asleep. Attempting to stretch away some of the comfortable softness in your limbs, you emerge from his neck to look down at him.

Your hand settles on his chest, your pinky resting on the chain of his dog tags, moving the metal slightly with the flex of your fingertip.

Upon being so close to him, you notice the incredibly sparse, yet still present, specks of grey sprinkled in his hair and beard.

”Hi”. Your soft greeting earns you a smile, that one you liked so much on John's handsome face.

”Hello”. Despite its natural gravel and husk, John's voice is softer than you ever heard during the evening. 

The slow smile pulling your lips doesn’t stop even though he leans up for a peck, which swiftly turns into a few shared kisses. When he parts from you, his head falls back to rest against the hand behind his head, head tilted slightly from the position.

”Remember you mentioned you weren’t needed anywhere in the morning”. Your fingers play with the chain resting on John's chest. The hand around your waist slows until his thumb traces lazy circles against your lower back.

”What about it?” One of his brows quirks, and you glance down at your fingers, suddenly shy beneath his heavy-lidded gaze and confidently relaxed posture in your bed.

”Like to stay the night?” It feels like you mumble the question into his chest, and you even stop yourself from continuing with ’if you don’t want to, you don’t have to’, knowing he’s a grown man aware he has a choice without you plainly stating it.

A slight tap of fingers against your chin brings your gaze back up, and there, his lips meet yours in a deeper kiss than earlier. At the low hum his act pulls from you, he smiles and leans back to rest against your pillows again, index and middle finger resting along your jawline.

”Hadn’t planned to go anywhere if you didn’t shoo me out”.

”I won’t, or maybe just to re-park your car in the morning so you don’t get a ticket”, he chuckled before pulling you closer to him again.

[alisbackalleybbq]

Crush (Requested)

TW:  Mentions of violence against women.

This is not beta’d or edited. This was requested by @imagine-all-the-fandoms​.  I hope you like it and I’m sorry it took me so long.

“ Heeey ! Finally I found a blog writing for Tim 😍 would you do one for me where the reader is an officer as well and crushing on Tim (and vise versa) but both are too stubborn to admit and everyone kinda makes fun of them. Then during a call, she gets kidnapped and hurt and Tim is furious till she is saved and he makes sure to take care of her. Some fluff and kisses when they finally admit their feelings 💝💝 this would be great and TYSM !”

“When are you going to stop staring at her and ask her out already?”  Nyla asked Tim.  He was standing at the back of the briefing room, arms crossed, glaring at Aaron Thorson who had said something to you that made you throw your head back and laugh at.

“I’m not staring,” Tim snapped.  “We’re here to learn about a dangerous op.  Not tell jokes.”

“Mmmm, okay,” Nyla smirked.  

“She just made P2.  I can’t get involved even if I wanted to.”  Tim sighed.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Tim Bradford was scared.”  Angela quipped.

“I’m not scared.”  Tim scoffed.  “I’m being smart.”

“Smart by letting the woman you have a crush on get away?”  Nyla scowled.

“I don’t have a crush on her!  She’s a subordinate.”  Tim scowled back.

“You’re with Metro now.  You’re not her sergeant anymore.  You’re just making excuses.”  Angela rolled her eyes.

Nyla tsked at Tim and shook her head.  “Tim ‘the Coward’ Bradford.” 

“You’re just going to have to man up and ask him out.”  Aaron said to you.

“I’m not a man, Aaron.”  You said sarcastically.

“You know what I mean,” he replied, glaring at you jokingly. 

“Why would I ask him out?”  You questioned.  “He’s Tim Bradford.  He could have any woman on or off the force that he wanted.  He’s not going to want me.”

“Please!  I’ve seen the way he looks at you.  I’ve seen the way you two interact.  Stop being a scaredy cat and just ask him out.”  Aaron urged.

“I’ll pass, Aaron.  If that makes me a scaredy cat, that’s fine.  But I’m not going to risk my ego on being rejected by Bradford.”  You replied.

“Listen up,” Sgt. Grey took the podium.

Tim was out patrolling the area where the suspect in a brutal attack on a female jogger was reported to live.  The briefing that morning had left him angry that somebody in his city had come up behind women jogging in the park and attacked them.  So far there had been five victims.  Tim wanted this creep off the streets yesterday.  It didn’t help that he saw red when Aaron had put his hand on your back.  The ribbing from Nyla and Angela had also played into his anger but it got him thinking about you.  

“Units on the City Wide,” the dispatch voice over the radio cut through his thoughts, “possible officers in distress.  Seven-Adam-15 is not responding to Status Checks.”

Tim’s blood ran cold.  You were in 7-Adam-15 today with Nolan.  “What is their last known location?”  Tim radioed back.

“They checked out at 759 College Avenue on a noise complaint.”  Dispatch answered.

“Copy, I’m enroute.”  He flipped his sirens on and sped toward College Avenue.  

When he arrived, he saw the shop parked out in front of a house with the numbers 759 on it.  Tim flew out of the car when he noticed Nolan laying on the sidewalk.

“Nolan!  Nolan!”  Tim yelled, quickly scanning for injuries.  John Nolan groaned in response.  “Nolan, wake up! What happened?”

“Ugh,” Nolan squinted at Tim and put his hand to his head.  

“I  need an RA to this location for an injured officer.”  Tim radioed in.  “What happened?  Where’s your boot?”  Tim couldn’t bring himself to say your name.  If it was bad news, he thought somehow referring to you as a boot would lessen the blow.

“She knocked on the door.  The guy came out and hit me with a bat.  He grabbed her and dragged her into the house.  I tried to radio before I blacked out but…” John trailed off, the worry, anger, and fear evident on his face.  “It’s the guy from the park.”

“The one attacking the joggers?” Tim clarified.

“Yes.”  John tried to sit up.

“Whoa, just stay down.”  Tim put his hand on John’s chest and pushed him back onto the ground.  

“I have to go get her.”  John groaned.

“Dispatch, I’m going to need immediate backup at this location.  Officer kidnapped.”  Tim unholstered his gun and went toward the front door.

“You should wait for backup!”  John called then winced in pain.

Tim ignored him and went to the front door, pounding his fist against the door as hard as he could.  “LAPD!  Open the door!”  He commanded.  He waited for what felt like a year but it was only a minute before he tried the doorknob.  He rolled his eyes at himself, of course the door was locked.  He ran back to his shop and grabbed a window breaker.  He didn’t want to waste any time banging against the glass that might not break easily.  Tim quickly used the tool to crack the glass in the door window.  He used his radio to break it fully and make room for his hand to slip in.  He didn’t even feel the jagged glass cutting deep into his skin.  He unlocked the door and entered the house, gun at the ready.

“LAPD!”  He shouted.  “Come out now with your hands up!”  There were some crashing sounds from the basement.   He ran down the stairs and was shocked at what he saw.  You were bleeding from various wounds around your head and face, there was an angry red mark on your throat, your uniform was ripped, and there was blood seeping out of a wound in your chest.  

You were straddling the suspect who was sprawled on the floor, still fighting.  “You.  Are.  Under.  Arrest.”  You declared, each word punctuated by your elbow connecting with the suspect’s body somewhere.

“Are you okay?”  Tim asked.

“No!”  You growled out.  “He won’t stop resisting.”  Just as you finished speaking, the suspect hit you in the face with a closed fist.  

“Son of a bitch!”  You cried out.  Before you could register what was happening, you were looking up at the ceiling, having been flipped on your back.  You rolled over to see Tim flinging the suspect onto his stomach.

“You’re under arrest!”  Tim yelled.  “Put your hands behind your back.”  The suspect complied right away and started quietly crying. 

The next five minutes were a blur.  Nyla showed up to haul the suspect up the stairs and outside the house.  He was being checked over by medics.  Tim helped you up the stairs and made sure you were sitting in an ambulance before he went to check on John.

Tim was quickly back by your side.  “How’s Nolan?”  You croaked out, your throat feeling like it was on fire.  You held an ice pack to the side of your face.  The paramedic was checking a deep cut on your chest.

“He’s okay.  They said he most likely has a concussion but they’re going to take him to the hospital for tests.”  Tim replied.  “How’re you?”

You nodded softly.  “I’ll live.” 

“You’re a hell of a fighter.”  The paramedic said.  “You beat that guy up all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” you gave the attractive paramedic a shy smile.  

“That’s badass.”  He replied.

“Anyway,” Tim growled.  

“Tim,” you gasped, grabbing his hand.  His heart fluttered at the contact.  “You’re hurt.”

“What?”  He asked, confused, noticing blood on his arm.  

“You’re cut.”  You said.

“It’s nothing.”  Tim shook his head.  

“Those might need stitches,”  The paramedic commented, looking over Tim’s cuts.

“I’ve had worse.”  Tim tried to shake it off.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m going to the hospital.”  You said.  “You can ride with me.”

“Nah,” Tim waved you off.  “I’m fine.”

“Please,” you grabbed his hand again.  “I hate hospitals.  If you’re there, it’ll make me feel better.”

Tim smiled at you and nodded.  “Okay, fine.”

Tim was annoyed.  It had taken 45 minutes for him to get the cuts on his arm stitched up.  That was 45 minutes that he was away from you.  Forty-five minutes that you were stuck in the hospital, a place you hated, without him there to make you feel better.

He growled all the way from the room he’d been in to the room where you were.  You were lying in a hospital bed, bruised and bandaged up.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting next to your bed and grabbing your hand.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.”  You smiled softly.  

“You’re shaking,” Tim pointed out.

You nodded.  “I can’t make it stop.”

“Adrenaline is wearing off.  You had to put up a hell of a fight.”  Tim brushed some hair away from your forehead.  

“I was so scared.”  You told him, tears pooling in your eyes.  “I thought I was going to die.  Then I heard you and I knew I was safe.”

“If it makes you feel better, I was scared too.”  Tim confessed.

You scowled at him.  “You were?”  He nodded but didn’t say anything.  “Why?”

“I didn’t know what I was going to find.  I didn’t know if you were hurt or…” he trailed off.

“Yeah.  That’s one thing about us cops,” you said.  “We’re a family and we never want to see one of us hurt.”

“It’s not just that.”  Tim said, taking a deep breath.  “I…I didn’t want to find you hurt.  I didn’t want anything bad to have happened to you.  All I could think about was that if you were…I wouldn’t be able to tell you that I want to take you out on a date…if you want.”

“You want to date me?”  You were incredulous.  Was this really happening?

“I have for a long time.  I just didn’t have the guts to say anything.  I was afraid you’d reject me.” 

“You were afraid I’d reject you?  Tim Bradford was scared that I’d reject him?”  

“According to Nyla my name is now Tim ‘the Coward’ Bradford.”  He rolled his eyes and smiled.

You giggled.  “I’d love to go out with you, Tim.  I’ve been attracted to you for…well, since the first time I met you.”

“You were attracted to me after I yelled at you for spilling coffee on my uniform?”  He chuckled.

“Yeah.  Right after that, I saw you kneel down to talk to a child so you were on the same level as him.  I knew there was more to you than an asshole.”  

“That’s…flattering.”  Tim said.  He cupped your cheek and leaned in.  He softly brushed his lips against yours.  You gently kissed him back. Tim broke the kiss and sat back in his chair next to your bed.  He picked up a brown paper bag and held it out to you.

“Please tell me that’s an Elvis burger from Mrs. C’s.”  You sighed.

“Extra bananas.”  Tim smirked, handing you the bag.

[reine-du-sourire]

Morningscape

Mornings at 97 Weston Avenue, Apartment #5 and subsequently at the Victoria Mall usually follow the same pattern each day, and Edward has the routine down to a science now.

7:15 AM. Alarm sounds. Edward rolls over, yawns, and shuts it off; if he's not quick enough, he gets a pillow directly to the face. Despite his half-asleep state and his bed being against the opposite wall, Cheslock's aim is formidable.

7:19 AM. Edward brushes his teeth, washes his face, and changes into his sweatpants and hoodie. His jogging clothes are folded neatly on his bedside table, making it easy for him to access them in the dark. There's a deal in place: Cheslock isn't allowed to let his pet rats into the room, and Edward isn't allowed to open the blackout curtains over the window before Cheslock's had his coffee.  

7:21 AM. Edward goes for a two-mile jog around the neighborhood. He meets up with Greenhill- a friend of his and the manager of the sports equipment store where they work- at the dog park, and they do a few laps of the trail together. Greenhill's own morning workout starts at 6:00 AM, which Edward admires but doesn't feel up to doing just yet. 

8:00 AM. After heading back to the apartment and taking a quick shower, Edward gets dressed for the day and starts cooking breakfast. Scrambled eggs on toast and a protein shake for himself, coffee for Cheslock. He's given up on trying to make Ches actually eat a proper meal first thing in the morning and simply makes some extra food. Nature will take its course. 

8:15 AM. Cheslock comes into the kitchen and slumps over the back of Edward’s chair, wrapping his arms around Edward’s shoulders and burying his face in his hair.

“Good morning, Cheslock,” Edward says, after swallowing a bite of egg and bread. “Sleep well?”

“Hmrphlllmmghph.”

“Coffee’s on the counter.”

“Mmmphhh.”

8:22 AM. Edward finishes most of his breakfast and lets Cheslock steal the last piece of toast. After a cup and a half of caffeine, the latter is slightly more awake and has managed to open his eyes all the way. 

8:25 AM. Edward puts the dishes in the sink and gives Cheslock a quick hug goodbye before heading out to catch the bus. His shift at Green's Sporting Goods starts at 8:45, but Edward likes to be at the Victoria Mall a few minutes early just in case. He uses this time to check his texts and emails on his phone- Lizzy usually sends him a cheery good morning missive.

8:40 AM. Edward arrives at the mall and heads upstairs to Green's Sporting Goods. Greenhill is already there and greets him. Edward gets to work; sprucing up the place and straightening merchandise for the first customers of the morning to walk in. 

10:30 AM. Cheslock shows up for his shift. Ultra-Violet Tattoos and Piercings is right across the walkway from Green's Sporting Goods, which sometimes makes Greenhill complain that Edward gets distracted, but Edward's usually pretty good about keeping his eyes on his own work. 

10:45 AM. Edward gets a 10-minute break, which he uses to grab a drink and stretch his legs a little.

12:00 PM. Lunchtime. Cheslock always prepares and brings lunch for the two of them. He's a fairly good cook, even if the food he makes is sometimes a little on the ‘experimental’ side. Edward has since learnt that peanut butter, jelly, and mustard isn't actually that bad a sandwich combination. They're occasionally joined in the break room by their managers and other mall employees- Bluewer and Clayton from Midnight Owl Bookshop, and Redmond and Harcourt from Maison des Roses. The latter two always smell nice. 

Life is good. Edward enjoys these mornings. 

Part of my Victoria Mall / 97 Weston Ave AU

[visit-new-york]

Central Park is a vast and iconic urban park located in the heart of Manhattan, New York City. Covering 843 acres (approximately 341 hectares), Central Park is one of the most famous and beloved urban green spaces in the world. Here are some key details about Central Park:

Location: Central Park is located in the borough of Manhattan in New York City. It stretches from 59th Street in the south to 110th Street (also known as Cathedral Parkway) in the north and from Fifth Avenue on the east to Central Park West on the west.

Design and Landscape: Central Park was designed by landscape architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux in the mid-19th century. The park features a diverse landscape, including meadows, woodlands, lakes, and recreational facilities. Its design was inspired by the English romantic landscape tradition and includes winding paths, rustic bridges, and scenic vistas.

Historical Significance: Central Park was created in the 1850s and 1860s as a response to the growing urbanization of New York City. It was designed to provide residents with a respite from the city's bustling streets and offer a natural oasis in the heart of Manhattan.

Iconic Features: Central Park is home to numerous iconic landmarks, including Bethesda Terrace, Bow Bridge, The Mall, Central Park Zoo, Belvedere Castle, and The Great Lawn. These landmarks, along with the park's natural beauty, attract millions of visitors each year.

Recreational Activities: The park offers a wide range of recreational activities, including walking, jogging, cycling, horseback riding, and rollerblading. It also features sports facilities such as baseball fields, tennis courts, and a variety of playgrounds.

Events and Entertainment: Central Park hosts a wide range of events and entertainment throughout the year, including concerts, theater productions, film screenings, and festivals. The Central Park SummerStage is a popular venue for outdoor concerts and performances.

Wildlife: The park is home to a variety of wildlife, including birds, squirrels, raccoons, and other small mammals. Birdwatchers often visit Central Park to spot a wide array of bird species.

Conservation and Maintenance: The Central Park Conservancy is a nonprofit organization responsible for the maintenance, restoration, and preservation of Central Park. Their efforts ensure that the park remains a beautiful and well-kept green space for generations to come.

Year-Round Beauty: Central Park offers a different experience in each season, from the lush greenery of spring and summer to the vibrant foliage of autumn and the serene beauty of snow-covered landscapes in winter.

Hiking and Nature Exploration: The park's extensive network of trails and pathways allows visitors to explore its diverse natural landscapes. The North Woods and the Ramble, for example, offer a more rugged and wooded experience, providing a stark contrast to the park's more manicured areas.

Public Art Installations: Central Park often hosts temporary art installations, adding a creative and artistic dimension to the park. These installations range from sculptures to interactive exhibits, providing a dynamic and ever-changing experience for visitors.

Boating: Central Park features several bodies of water, including the Central Park Lake and the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. Visitors can rent rowboats or take guided gondola tours on the lake or enjoy scenic walks and runs along the reservoir's perimeter.

Ice Skating: In the winter, Wollman Rink and Lasker Rink within Central Park offer ice skating opportunities for both residents and tourists, creating a magical wintertime experience.

Conservatories and Gardens: Beyond the Central Park Conservatory Garden, the park boasts other beautiful gardens, such as the Shakespeare Garden and the Heather Garden. These gardens offer a wide variety of plant species and provide tranquil retreats for garden enthusiasts.

Community and Social Activities: Central Park often hosts community events, fitness classes, and social gatherings, making it a vibrant hub for people from all walks of life to come together.

Film and TV Locations: Central Park has served as a backdrop for countless films and television shows, becoming an integral part of American popular culture. From iconic movie scenes to TV series like "Friends," the park's beauty and versatility have made it a sought-after location for filmmakers.

Educational Programs: The park offers educational programs and guided tours on topics ranging from birding and ecology to history and architecture. These programs provide opportunities for visitors to learn about the park's natural and cultural heritage.

Public Art Installations: Central Park often hosts temporary art installations, adding a creative and artistic dimension to the park. These installations range from sculptures to interactive exhibits, providing a dynamic and ever-changing experience for visitors.

Central Park Zoo: Located in the park's southeast corner, the Central Park Zoo is a popular family attraction featuring a wide range of animals from around the world. It offers educational programs and exhibits that appeal to visitors of all ages.

Transportation: Central Park is easily accessible by various means of transportation, including subway lines, buses, and bike lanes, making it convenient for both locals and tourists to visit.

Sustainability Initiatives: The Central Park Conservancy and the city of New York have undertaken sustainability initiatives to ensure that the park remains environmentally responsible. These efforts include conserving water, maintaining wildlife habitats, and promoting eco-friendly practices.

Picnicking: Central Park provides numerous spots for picnicking, making it a perfect place for a leisurely outdoor meal. Many visitors and families bring their own food and enjoy a picnic amidst the park's scenic beauty.

Conservation Efforts: The Central Park Conservancy, in collaboration with city agencies and volunteers, plays a crucial role in the ongoing maintenance and restoration of Central Park. Their dedication ensures that the park remains vibrant and environmentally sustainable.

Summer Recreation: In the summer months, Central Park offers a wide range of recreational activities, including free outdoor concerts, Shakespearean theater productions at the Delacorte Theater, and the Great Lawn, which hosts events such as movie screenings and cultural festivals.

Central Park Reservoir: The Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, also known as the Central Park Reservoir, is a picturesque body of water surrounded by a running track. It offers stunning views of the city skyline and is a popular spot for jogging and leisurely walks.

Conservatory Water: This section of Central Park features a model boat pond where visitors can sail their miniature boats. It's a fun and charming activity, especially for children and families.

Horseback Riding: The Central Park Horseback Riding program allows visitors to experience the park from a unique perspective by taking guided horseback rides through designated trails.

Central Park at Night: While the park officially closes after dark, it has a unique ambiance during nighttime hours. Strolling through Central Park at night can be a romantic and magical experience, with the softly lit pathways and the sounds of nature providing a tranquil setting.

Architectural Features: Central Park boasts a variety of architectural features, including bridges, arches, and sculptures. Bow Bridge, Gapstow Bridge, and the various arches throughout the park are known for their architectural beauty and are popular for photographs.

Diversity of Wildlife: Central Park is home to a surprising variety of wildlife, including birds, turtles, fish, and even the occasional red-tailed hawk. Birdwatchers and nature enthusiasts will find plenty to explore.

Accessibility and Inclusivity: Efforts have been made to make Central Park accessible to all visitors, including those with disabilities. Wheelchair-accessible pathways, ADA-compliant facilities, and programs designed for inclusivity help ensure that everyone can enjoy the park.

Cultural Institutions: Central Park is home to several cultural institutions, including:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, which features a collection of art and artifacts from around the world.

The American Museum of Natural History, known for its extensive exhibits on natural history, science, and anthropology.

The Central Park Conservatory Garden, a beautifully landscaped formal garden with themed sections.

Central Park is not only a cherished recreational area for New Yorkers but also a must-visit destination for tourists from around the world. Its combination of natural beauty, cultural richness, and recreational opportunities makes it a symbol of the enduring allure of green spaces in urban environments.

Central Park remains a timeless and beloved destination for New Yorkers and tourists alike. Its enduring popularity, rich history, and diverse range of attractions continue to make it a symbol of the city's commitment to providing green spaces and cultural enrichment in the heart of a bustling metropolis. Whether you're seeking adventure, relaxation, cultural experiences, or a connection with nature, Central Park offers a dynamic and welcoming setting to explore and enjoy.

In summary, Central Park is a multifaceted urban oasis that offers a wide array of recreational, cultural, and natural experiences. Its enduring popularity and the efforts of the Central Park Conservancy ensure that it continues to be a cherished and well-maintained green space that enriches the lives of New Yorkers and visitors alike. Whether you're seeking relaxation, adventure, cultural enrichment, or a connection with nature, Central Park provides a unique and ever-evolving destination in the heart of Manhattan.

[bestmusicalworldcup]

2024 Best Musical World Cup Alphabetized List

Listed below is the 128 musicals that have qualified for the 2024 Best Musical World Cup Bracket.

& Juliet 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee 35MM: A Musical Exhibition A Chorus Line A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder A Little Night Music A Strange Loop American Idiot Amélie Anastasia Annie Annie Get Your Gun Assassins Avenue Q Bare: A Pop Opera Beauty and the Beast Beetlejuice Billy Elliot the Musical Bonnie and Clyde Bring it On Cabaret Camelot Carrie Cats Chess Chicago Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Come From Away Company Death Note: The Musical Dreamgirls Elisabeth Evita Falsettos Fiddler on the Roof Firebringer Frankenstein: A New Musical Fun Home Funny Girl Ghost Quartet Godspell Grease Guys and Dolls Hadestown Hair Hairspray Hamilton Heathers Hedwig and the Angry Inch Hello, Dolly! Holy Musical B@man! How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying In The Heights Into the Woods Jekyll and Hyde Jesus Christ Superstar Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat Kinky Boots La Cage aux Folles Legally Blonde Les Misérables Little Shop of Horrors Little Women Man of La Mancha Mary Poppins Matilda Mean Girls Merrily We Roll Along Monty Python's Spamalot Moulin Rouge My Fair Lady Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 Nerdy Prudes Must Die Newsies Next to Normal Oliver Once Once on this Island Parade Pippin Ragtime Rebecca Rent Ride the Cyclone School of Rock Seussical Shrek the Musical Singin' in the Rain Six Something Rotten Spies Are Forever SpongeBob SquarePants: The Broadway Musical Spring Awakening Starlight Express Starry Starship Sunday in the Park with George Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street Sweet Charity Tanz der Vampire / Dance of the Vampires The Addams Family The Book of Mormon The Color Purple The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals The Hunchback of Notre Dame The King and I The Last Five Years The Lightning Thief The Lion King The Music Man The Phantom of the Opera The Prince of Egypt The Producers The Rocky Horror Show The Secret Garden The Sound of Music The Trail to Oregon! The Wiz The Wizard of Oz (1987) Tick Tick Boom Tuck Everlasting Twisted: The Untold Story of A Royal Vizier Urinetown Waitress West Side Story Wicked You're A Good Man Charlie Brown

[thorsenmark]

My Time for a Getaway in Humboldt Redwoods State Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking the Founders Grove Nature Trail Loop with a view looking up and to the southeast at nearby coast redwoods in Humboldt Redwoods State Park.

[cymlea]

Things To Do In Tampa: A Comprehensive Guide to Florida's Gulf Coast

Tampa offers a dynamic and lively experience for visitors, showcasing a myriad of activities on Florida's Gulf Coast.

Florida is renowned for its diverse attractions, and Tampa stands out as a city designed for both entertainment and relaxation. With a captivating blend of historic architecture and modern landmarks, a culture enriched with Cuban and Spanish influences, bustling business districts, and scenic canals, Tampa emerges as a versatile destination that caters to work, exploration, and leisure.

Discover the myriad activities that Tampa has to offer with this comprehensive guide!

Things To Do In Tampa

Despite its vintage charm, Tampa boasts a multicultural atmosphere where historic buildings are being revitalized into vibrant food halls. Immerse yourself in the complete travel experience with our guide to Tampa's diverse offerings.

Discover Marine Life at The Florida Aquarium While in Tampa, Florida, don't miss the opportunity to explore The Florida Aquarium—an expansive 250,000-square-foot facility accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums. As a 501 non-profit organization situated in downtown Tampa, it stands as one of the premier aquariums in the US. Witness a captivating array of sea creatures and immerse yourself in this publicly operated institution.

Location: 701 Channelside Dr, Tampa, FL 33602

Operating Hours: Open daily from 9:30 AM to 5 PM

Admission: $34.45 per person

Uncover Tampa's Past at Henry B. Plant Museum Venture into the historical realm by visiting the Henry B. Plant Museum, housed in the south wing of Plant Hall on the University of Tampa's campus. Located at 401 West Kennedy Boulevard, this museum offers insights into the Victorian lifestyle during turn-of-the-century Florida. Considered a hidden gem, it conveniently sits near hotels and restaurants around the university campus.

Location: 401 W Kennedy Blvd, Tampa, FL 33606

Operating Hours: Tuesday - Sunday from 10 AM to 5 PM (opens at 12 on Sundays)

Experience Artistic Splendor at The Tampa Theatre For a dose of cultural entertainment, make your way to The Tampa Theatre—an exquisite performing arts space in downtown Tampa. Designed by architect John Eberson, this atmospheric theatre-style movie palace hosts a variety of independent and foreign film productions. Treat yourself to a unique cinematic experience in this beautifully preserved landmark.

Location: 711 N Franklin St, Tampa, FL 33602

Operating Hours: Varies by show/screening

Relax Amid Nature at Lettuce Lake Park Nature enthusiasts will find solace in Lettuce Lake Park, a beloved green space in Tampa. Spanning 240 acres, the park offers walking paths, biking trails, and scenic benches for relaxation. Conveniently located on Fletcher Avenue between Interstate 75 and the University of South Florida, Lettuce Lake Park is complemented by the soothing presence of the Hillsborough River, providing a refreshing escape during warm spells.

Address: 6920 E Fletcher Ave, Tampa, FL 33637

Hours: Open daily from 8 AM to 7 PM

Enjoy Live Performances at The Straz Center for the Performing Arts For aficionados of the performing arts, The Straz Center offers a captivating venue for shows, screenings, and live concerts throughout the year. Originally established in 1987 as the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center and later rebranded in 2009, this beautiful complex is situated in downtown Tampa.

Location: 1010 N Macinnes Pl, Tampa, FL 33602

Operating Hours: Varies by show/screening

Embark on a Splashy Adventure at Adventure Island For a dose of fun in Tampa, look no further than Adventure Island—a conveniently located water park northeast of Tampa, Florida, just across the street from Busch Gardens Tampa Bay. This aquatic haven covers 30 acres and offers water rides, dining options, and various attractions. Many visitors opt for a full trip, combining the thrills of Busch Gardens and Adventure Island.

Location: 10001 McKinley Dr, Tampa, FL 33612

Tickets: $29.99 per person

Experience Thrills at Busch Gardens A must-visit for adrenaline enthusiasts in Tampa, Busch Gardens Tampa Bay is the largest zoo in the region, packed with exhilarating roller coasters and over 12,000 animals. This adventure park seamlessly blends high-caliber rides, adrenaline-pumping thrills, and family-friendly recreation. For a water-themed escapade, explore Busch Gardens' Adventure Island, Tampa's exclusive water park, spanning 30 acres of tropical excitement.

Location: 10165 McKinley Dr, Tampa, FL 33612

Tickets: $84.99 per person

Unwind on the Beautiful Beaches Just a short drive away, Tampa offers access to approximately 35 miles of pristine Gulf of Mexico waters and white sand beaches on the barrier islands of St. Petersburg and Clearwater. Renowned for their exceptional sand quality and environmental preservation, standouts include Fort DeSoto Park, Caladesi Island, and Clearwater Beach. With its undeveloped coastlines, this area imparts a sense of being on a remote island.

Discover the wealth of beaches: Tampa boasts around 35 miles of white sand coastline, providing ample opportunities for relaxation and seaside enjoyment.

Discover the Glazer Children's Museum For families with kids, a visit to the Glazer Children's Museum is a must during their time in Tampa. Boasting around 20 interactive exhibits catering to children of all ages, this family-friendly museum offers an engaging experience.

Location: 110 W Gasparilla Plaza, Tampa, FL 33602

Operating Hours: Tuesday - Sunday from 9:30 AM to 5 PM

Indulge in a Beer Tasting Experience Tampa's brewing legacy dates back to 1896 when the Florida Brewing Company established itself in Ybor City's downtown. While facing challenges due to restrictions and laws, the craft beer scene experienced a resurgence with the establishment of the Tampa Bay Brewing Company a century later.

Diverse Beer Scene: Tampa boasts a thriving brewing culture, with the Florida Brewing Company being a popular choice in Ybor City.

Best Time to Explore Tampa, Florida

Tampa is at its best between September and December, offering a pleasant escape from the oppressive heat and humidity. The breezy conditions of autumn still provide warmth and sunshine, and during these months, hotels often offer enticing deals to attract visitors.

While the peak season for major attractions is from May to August, the weather can be uncomfortably humid. January through April, despite being cooler, tends to be a more expensive period for booking trips.

Optimal Transportation in Tampa

For seamless exploration of Tampa, visitors often find it beneficial to rent a car, especially if planning excursions to Clearwater and St. Pete's beachfront or the artistic enclaves of Sarasota. However, for those intending to stay within downtown or utilize the Telo Line Streetcar, walking or riding may suffice.

Given the residential and widely dispersed nature of the Bay Area, car rental costs, while subject to fluctuations based on supply and peak season factors, are generally reasonable. Commute times may be slightly extended due to the unique driving patterns in the region.

Guide to Tampa's Distinct Neighborhoods

Tampa's allure extends beyond its main attractions, inviting visitors to explore its vibrant neighborhoods that pulse with unique charm.

Hyde Park: Crafted around the time of the first Hillsborough River bridge by railroad magnate Henry B. Plant and Cuban immigrants establishing Ybor City, Hyde Park is a charming area exuding heritage and retro glamour. Nestled by the sea, with leafy tree canopies and early 20th-century brick lanes, Hyde Park features upscale Hyde Park Village, a walkable hub for dining and shopping. To the east, Bayshore Boulevard offers a waterfront promenade for biking and strolling.

Channelside District: Packed with tourist delights, the Channelside District hosts Sparkman Wharf—a riverfront entertainment venue offering microbrews, musical performances, and diverse dining options. The Florida Aquarium, home to over 8,000 species, adds to the district's allure with captivating exhibits on conservation initiatives, coral reefs, and marine life. Dolphin trips and hands-on experiences, like the No Bone Zone habitat, enhance the Channelside District's appeal.

Downtown: A blend of historical and contemporary cultural attractions defines downtown Tampa. Renowned sites such as the Florida Museum of Photographic Arts, the Tampa Museum of Art, and the Glazer Children's Museum cater to art enthusiasts and families alike. The David A. Straz, Jr. Center for the Performing Arts hosts Broadway musicals, opera-ballet performances, and musical events. Corey Hixon Waterfront Park hosts year-round outdoor events, while the Tampa Riverwalk offers a scenic stroll along the Hillsborough River, lined with diverse eateries and bars.

Dining Recommendations in Tampa

The culinary scene in Tampa Bay mirrors its diverse culture, offering indulgent beverages at beachfront bistros and taverns. Visitors can savor iconic Tampa dishes, choosing from an array of options, including haute cuisine, farm-to-table eateries, and delightful seafood and traditional Spanish meals.

Top Breakfast Spots: Samaria Cafe, Nicki's Omelette & Grill, Oxford Exchange Lunch Favorites: Oystercatchers, Ulele, Al's Finger Licking Good Bar-B-Que Dinner Hotspots: Vino E Pasta, On Swann, Wright's Gourmet House Best Bars: M. Bird, Fly Bar, The Orpheum, Bad Monkey

Where To Stay In Tampa, Florida

Tampa Bay offers a diverse range of lodging options, catering to both luxury seekers and those on business or leisure trips. Entertainment abounds, making Tampa an ideal destination for various needs.

Luxury Hotels

The Tampa Edition

Cost: Starting at $709 per night

Address: 500 Channelside Dr., Tampa, 33602

Amenities: Fitness Center, Outdoor Swimming Pool, Garden

Floridan Palace Hotel

Cost: Starting at $299 per night

Address: 905 North Florida Avenue, Tampa, FL 33602

Amenities: Fitness Center, Restaurant

Mid-Tier Hotels

Hyatt Place Downtown Tampa

Cost: Starting at $349 per night

Address: 325 N Florida Avenue, Tampa, 33602

Amenities: Fitness Center, Outdoor Swimming Pool, Restaurant

Hotel South Tampa & Suites

Cost: Starting at $199 per night

Address: 3314 South Dale Mabry, Tampa, FL 33629

Amenities: Swimming Pool, Fitness Center

Budget Hotels

Hilton Garden Inn Tampa East

Cost: Starting at $166 per night

Address: 10309 Highland Manor Drive, Tampa, FL 33610

Amenities: Restaurant, Swimming Pool

Sleep Inn & Suites Tampa South

Cost: Starting at $179 per night

Address: 6231 S Dale Mabry Highway, Tampa, 33611

Amenities: Spa and Wellness Center, Fitness Center

Visiting Tampa: Helpful Tips

Sunpass Convenience: Consider obtaining a Sunpass, a prepaid digital permit for hassle-free highway travel to various destinations.

CityPASS Savings: Opt for the Tampa Bay CityPASS, providing discounted access to the city's premier attractions. Priced at $97 for children and $107 for adults, it offers substantial savings.

Freshwater Caution: Exercise caution when encountering freshwater, especially outside designated swimming springs. Florida's waters are home to over a million alligators, emphasizing the need for vigilance.

A Day Well Spent in Tampa

For those with just 24 hours, Tampa offers a condensed yet fulfilling experience. Explore Downtown Tampa starting with the Glazer Children's and art museums. Next, embark on an adventurous journey at Busch Gardens.

As the evening unfolds, consider a visit to one of the local breweries. Hyde Park beckons with its excellent dining and shopping options, while the Channelside District provides a vibrant backdrop for live performances.

Engage in Unique Activities

Even if water sports aren't your forte, Tampa's outdoor adventures offer compelling reasons to visit. The region boasts a diverse array of outdoor activities to suit various interests.

FAQ

Q: What is Tampa known for? Tampa is renowned for attractions such as the Florida Aquarium, the exhilarating Busch Gardens, the vibrant Ybor City, and being the birthplace of the Cuban sandwich. Additionally, the city is celebrated for its lush gardens, cigar manufacturing heritage, modern museums, fine dining establishments, and picturesque sidewalks.

Q: Is Tampa better than Orlando? Tampa is preferred by beach enthusiasts due to its proximity to the coast and the surrounding Tampa Bay. Orlando, another city in Central Florida, is favored by those who are fans of Universal and Disney attractions.

Q: Is Tampa Riverwalk worth visiting? Absolutely! Tampa Riverwalk is a must-visit attraction, offering a scenic stroll along the Garrison Channel and Hillsborough River. With water-based activities, beachfront restaurants, museums, and year-round festivals, it provides an enriching and enjoyable experience.

[turtlecleric]

I. I cannot believe I've made a side blog for writing reader-inserts. Alas, I feel it was inevitable. woe, angst be upon ye

I should be working on my rottmnt WIP but we're not gonna talk about that.

@yorshie here's the Raph POV no one asked for after this

---

He'd been too fucking slow.

By the time Raph pulled up on his bike, there was only one foot soldier still standing in the alley. The distinct smell of burnt rubber meant he'd just missed the rest of them, but he couldn't see an obvious trail. And he couldn't follow unless he knew where to go.

The soldier was still standing there, staring at him. Maybe this bozo would talk.

He leapt off the bike, landing in a sprint and running straight for them. They must've been in shock or something, because they didn't make a move to run away. Maybe this was their first encounter with a giant humanoid turtle. Either way, he'd make sure it was an encounter to remember.

Raph pulled out a sai with his right hand and flipped it so his fingers straddled the long blade. As he punched forward, aiming the tip of the sai toward the spot between the soldier's left shoulder and collarbone, he expected them to duck or... something. But they didn't. Despite the blunt end of the weapon, it easily punctured through their armor and settled decisively into the meat and bone there. He heard a strangled cry of pain as the soldier's knees gave out, and something about the sound made his chest feel oddly tight, but he was more focused on the fact that the idiot hadn't even tried to dodge.

He towered over them, even more so now that they were on their knees. He had to bend forward to keep his grip on his sai, and he could hear them taking strained, gasping breaths through the mask they wore. Their face was turned up toward him still, hadn't looked away since they first spotted him, and Raphael had the bitter thought that the fucker probably couldn't bring themselves to look away from the monster standing in front of them.

"Where'd they go," he growled.

The soldier didn't answer. He scowled, pushing the sai in further and twisting it ever so slightly. Another agonized shout came out of the woman - at least, it sounded like a woman - and again the sound elicited a strange unpleasant feeling in his chest. After a few moments her head started to fall forward, and Raph used his free hand to grasp the top of her head and hold it up.

Oh no you don't. You wanted to look at the monster. So look.

There was only the sound of her labored breaths for a few moments. It didn't seem like this one was inclined to tell him anything, but he needed answers and she was the only one here. Still, the uncomfortable feeling in his chest was getting worse. Almost like he had felt that day when-

Don't think about her.

His hand moved from the soldier's head to her throat and he dragged her to her feet, shoving her back against the wall. Her head smacked audibly against the brick there, and he squeezed her throat until he was satisfied with the string of choked sounds that came out.

"Tell me where they went," he said lowly, releasing his grip enough for her to take a gasping breath. "And I won't kill you."

Raph had said it to be intimidating. Frightening. But at his words, the soldier almost seemed to... relax. For a moment he was frozen, and then Donnie's voice crackled in his ear.

"I've got eyes on the truck. They're on Morris Park Avenue, headed east."

Leo's voice came through his earpiece next, but Raph was having trouble focusing on what he said. A small, trembling hand had come up to lightly rest on his arm. Not to struggle or to try and pull him away. Just... to rest there.

He felt his brow furrow, confusion and frustration mixing together.

What...?

One of his brothers called his name through the earpiece.

Right. Time to go.

He wrenched the sai out of the soldier and released his grip on her throat completely. She collapsed at his feet, and he could see blood starting to flow sluggishly from her wound. It stained the black fabric she wore, making it even darker. He could still hear her wheezing breaths as he walked away, but then he almost thought he heard the soft sound of crying.

Raph took a few more steps toward his bike before hesitating and turning back to examine the soldier. She was just... laying there. And she was hurt, sure, but she could still move. Why wasn't she calling for backup? For that matter, why hadn't she run when he first showed up? She hadn't even reached for the pistol strapped to her leg this whole time. He was bulletproof, of course, but that had never stopped a foot soldier from shooting at him before.

This was... this was weird. Wasn't it? This soldier's behavior? Maybe he should-

"Uh, Raphie?" Mikey's voice crackled. "We could really use you right about now, bro!"

The urgency in his little brother's tone got him focused and moving again. He left the soldier behind without a second glance and shot off on his bike, heading toward Morris Park as fast as he could go.

---

When he returned to that alley, hours later, there was nothing but a large blood stain and the tightness in his chest that had yet to go away.

[tceesgamingworld]

Discover TCee's New World: The Save File - San Sequoia

Greetings fellow Simmer's and welcome to TCee's World! Today, we embark on a journey through San Sequoia for my Family Playstyle Save File.

San Sequoia, once a humble fishing village, burgeoned into a bustling center of the fishing and canning trade under the entrepreneurial spirit of local fisherman-turned-mogul, Bayani Robles. Even as the town expanded, the Robles family's influence endured, aided by the contributions of Gilbert Gilberts. Presently, San Sequoia exudes charm with its quaint streets, serene parklands, and peaceful suburban enclaves—a quintessential setting for nurturing a family.

Our initial destination within San Sequoia is the idyllic neighborhood of Hopewell Hills. Nestled away from the urban clamor, Hopewell Hills offers ample space, catering to those who cherish tranquility amidst suburban bliss. Here, four delightful residences beckon: the grandeur of 7 Eucalyptus Lane and the coziness of 23 Eucalyptus Lane, 36 Bayani Place, and Sequoia Cottage. Each home boasts proximity to fishing spots and pocket parks, enhancing the neighborhood's allure.

Venturing onward, we arrive at Anchorpoint Wharf, once the epicenter of maritime industry, now a lively downtown district adorned with a cinema, pocket parks, and more. Two exquisite waterfront abodes, Robles Point and the maritime-themed Manzanita Terrace, grace this area. Meanwhile, Anchorpoint Library invites you to indulge in literary pursuits or engage in a strategic game of chess, complemented by healthy fare from The Health Food Hut.

Our final destination leads us to Gilbert Gardens, where verdant landscapes once owned by the visionary Gilbert Gilberts now offer an enchanting backdrop for family outings. Amidst the serene ambiance, Sims can wander along one of three picturesque lake paths or frolic in the Splash Pad play area. Parkside Place provides a cozy start for budding families, while 13 Acacia Avenue caters to larger households. The modern yet inviting Celebration Center promises a plethora of recreational activities, fostering community camaraderie. Additionally, the quaint Celebration Way Chapel stands as a testament to generations of matrimonial bliss within San Sequoia.

Thank you for embarking on this tour of San Sequoia with me. Join me next time as we traverse the dusty trails of Chestnut Ridge.

[bluenet13]

Safe at Home Plate (a The Rookie post 5x11 fic)

The before, during and after of the little league baseball game: Aaron and Tim when they hear Lucy's domestic violence call, Angela and Nyla watching from the bleachers, and Chenford enjoying a quiet moment post game.

AO3

"Control, I have a possible 273.5 at 9213 Longview Avenue. Send additional units."

Shit. Aaron thinks as soon as their radio crackles to life. There's no beat or badge number but they both recognize Lucy's voice instantly. He chances a look at Sergeant Bradford on the passenger seat and isn't surprised to find barely concealed panic hidden under outward stoicism.

Aaron's been trapped with Tim inside a car seconds from falling off the top floor of a parking garage and to their certain deaths, and yet he's never seen him so rattled. Tim's eyes are on the radio and he's looking at it like it personally wronged him. His hands are fisted over his legs and he's taking deep gulps of air trying to get his composure back.

At a complete loss at what to do, Aaron considers his options.

Option one: He can turn the shop around and go help Lucy, even if they both know she can take care of herself. But Lopez and Harper will kill him if they fail to show up to intercept Moses' truck.

Option two: He can suggest Tim talk to Lucy, but he doubts the man wants to say anything in front of him.

Option three: He can risk a premature end to his LAPD career at the hands of one pissed Tim Bradford and try to get him to talk.

Option four: Stay the hell away from whatever is going on between Tim and Lucy and continue driving in silence.

If option one didn't involve certain death at the hands of two very angry detectives, he thinks he might take it. And yet, he still ignores the one sensible option and takes life in his own hands, turning to look at Tim out of the corner of his eye as he debates how to start the conversation.

He doesn't realize he's been staring for too long until Tim speaks. "What?"

"Nothing," Aaron says instinctively and looks away, his courage beginning to dwindle.

But he can't stop himself from turning to look at Tim as seconds give way to minutes and there's still no update from Lucy. Eventually Tim huffs out a sigh and grumbles, "Whatever it is. Just say it."

Before his courage wanes, Aaron takes the opening. "You okay, Sarge?"

"Of course, I am," Tim says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and pinning him with a serious look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Aaron nods in understanding, glances at Tim once more. He hesitates a moment before saying, "I know this is a personal life-free zone, but we both know Lucy's a fighter and one hell of a cop. She's going to be okay."

"I know. I trained her." Tim tries to sound matter of fact, but Aaron has been riding with him long enough to know how to differentiate between his usual stoicism and what was a clear deflection.

"Right." Aaron goes to place a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder, but his sergeant's glare has him reconsidering. Instead, he sets it back on the steering wheel and continues to drive in silence. "I won't say anything, you know," he adds eventually, after counting Tim's third sigh in five minutes.

"There's nothing to say," Tim says dismissively, staring blankly at the city passing outside the window.

"Maybe," Aaron agrees, then adds, "You're allowed to be worried about her."

Tim inhales sharply and Aaron thinks he's about to rip him a new one. But Tim just lets the breath out slowly and turns to look at him. "I know. I can't shake the feeling this wouldn't be happening if I had insisted and gone with her after little league practice last night."

So, Lucy had in fact gone to practice with him. Aaron had wondered, but he lets it go. "What happened?"

"Lucy got a call from the woman who asked about domestic violence at Citizen's Academy. There was some sort of issue at the shelter she was staying at, but she went to work it out on her own. And now…" Tim trails off and turns back to look out the window.

"And now she's responding to a domestic and you think it's your fault," Aaron finishes for him, wincing sympathetically when Tim nods. "It might be a different call." Aaron doesn't really think so, but even hopeless optimism is better than the feeling of dread settling in his stomach, the same one he thinks Tim's been feeling since the call came in.

"You really think that?" Tim wonders. They're both cops, they have both seen the worst the world has to offer, inside and outside, of the force. And they both know coincidences rarely happen, if at all.

Aaron shakes his head. Tim's been good to him, and he can't lie to him. "But I also don't think it's your fault," he says, because telling the truth goes both ways.

Tim nods; wishes knowing could absolve him of his guilt. "I know Chen can take care of herself, but domestics are always tough, and this guy already knows she's involved so he might make it personal. And patrolling on your own is always riskier than doing so with a partner or T.O. anyway."

Aaron raises his hands in a placating gesture. "You have nothing to explain to me, man. She was your rookie, it's natural to worry." His tone is suggestive, but he lets out how he knows she's also one of his best friends, and very possibly something more. He doesn't think saying that would go well with his sergeant.

Silence settles over the shop after that. Aaron continues to drive as he considers the new sides of Tim Bradford he's seen in the last hour. He's always suspected there was something going on between him and his former rookie, but he's tried to ignore it as it's no one's business but them. But as he sees Tim drop his head back against the passenger seat and close his eyes, he remembers the conversation about workplace romance they had during one of their latest shifts, and despite what he said that day, he realizes he's rooting for whatever it is they have.

It's a few minutes later when they finally reach the meeting point, and Aaron carefully parks the shop at the designated spot. The two sit in silence as they wait for Lopez and Harper to arrive, listening to the cars passing on a highway nearby. Finally, when the detectives' car comes into view, Tim speaks up again. "Thanks, Aaron."

Aaron doesn't ask exactly why. Even if he does wonder. He nods instead, doing his best to hide his surprise.

What doesn't come as a surprise is the 'Come on Lucy. Be safe,' Tim whispers to himself before he switches their radio to a private channel with the detectives as they settle in to wait for Moses' crew.

-x-x-x-

When Tim had called asking for her and Harper's assistance potentially arresting the father of one of his little league players, Angela had quickly agreed. It was Tim and they helped each other out, that's how they rolled. But now sitting on the bleachers at Spellman Field, she wishes she was anywhere but here. It was nothing against Tim, baseball, or her duty, she was quite fond of all three, but she couldn't stop thinking about Elijah.

The night before she had gotten home with takeout and Wesley's favorite bourbon as she tried to soften the bad news. He had done the best to calm her down but they both knew Elijah Stone was a ticking bomb waiting to swallow them whole. Once upon a time she had thought she was invincible and capable of taking out anyone on her own, but losing Jackson, being kidnapped by La Fiera and having a son, had taught her that life was truly precious and not as guaranteed as she once thought.

"Damn, they're not even trying to hide it anymore." Harper's voice filters through her downward spiral and Angela realizes she has no idea what's happened after they talked to Blake's dad.

"Ugh- what?" Angela looks over, only to find Harper already watching her, eyes full of concern. "Sorry, got distracted for a second."

Harper nods in understanding and points to the field. Angela turns back to the game and a smile slowly creeps onto her face. Tyler has just scored a run and Tim and Lucy are clapping, perfectly in sync, before bumping their fists and moving their hands to rest on their hips. They're facing forward but their bodies are angled towards each other, their elbows brushing thanks to how close they're standing. Angela's known for a while that the former T.O. and Rookie have a special shorthand, but this is new, and she doubts they even realize how perfectly they mirror each other nowadays.

"Do you think they know?" Angela wonders, glad to have something else to focus on.

"What? That they're in love?" Harper frowns, but her tone is laced with amusement. "Those two are so oblivious that I wouldn't be surprised if they still think that whatever that is is just friendship." On the field Tim and Lucy seem to prove her point when a near home run leads to two more runs and they hug quickly before jumping away.

Angela snickers and shakes her head. "That was probably true for most of their relationship. But something's changed." She thinks back to last fall and tries to pinpoint when exactly she first noticed something is different. "Recently. Not sure when but I'd say around Thanksgiving, more or less."

"There's definitely something going on," Harper agrees, recalling their very convoluted explanation after their dinner was interrupted by an assault at the kitchen's restaurant. "Have you questioned Bradford about it?"

"Nah. I almost did, but he looks happy. They both do and they deserve it." Angela remembers those first few months with Wes when it was just them and everything felt new and impossibly better than anything they had experienced before. She wants that for her friends, even if she's also dying to tease Tim relentlessly about the fact Sergeant Hardass somehow fell for his rookie.

Harper tries but fails to suppress a grin, her smile knowing as she hums her accent. "They keep staring at each other when they think no one is watching. And Tim has smiled more in a month than three years. It's terrifying."

Angela snorts and Harper soon follows, their laughter only interrupted when Blake's father twitches in his seat and they glare at him until he stops moving. "Glad I'm not the only one that sees it." She says, pleased. "They're not as inconspicuous as they think but also not dumb enough to fully give themselves away."

"Not yet anyway." Harper smiles widely and Angela looks at her suspiciously. "Maybe we need to invite them to a triple date and see if they slip."

"I'm sure Wesley would dig it." And if she's honest with herself, it would be a welcome distraction for Angela too. Nothing like messing with her best friend's love life to distract her from her possibly crumbling one.

"Speaking of Wesley," Harper starts, taking the opening. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're fi-" Angela tries but Harper's raised eyebrow has her shutting up.

"Before we started talking you were a million miles away. And I know your situational awareness is better than that," Harper explains, looking at Angela sympathetically. "Is this about Elijah?"

Angela grunts and ducks her head before nodding resignedly. "Took you long enough to ask."

Harper grins but the smile soon softens. "Just worried about you. I know what it feels to always be looking behind your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Feels like that's all we've been doing since we lost Jackson." Angela chokes up and has to blink rapidly as she tries to stop the tears welling up in her eyes. The memory of her fallen rookie will never not hurt, but it was La Fiera who forced Wes to associate himself with Elijah and having him back is uncovering all that pain again. "And before, I wouldn't have cared as much. I love my family, but it was mostly just me. Now there's Wes, and Jack, and everyone at Mid-Wilshire." And it only takes her a glimpse of her friends coaching on the field, the woman sitting on the other side of Blake's dad and the picture of Wesley and Jack smiling at the camera on her lock screen for Angela to see what she stands to lose now.

"I'm sorry." Harper gets up and signals Blake's dad to move further on the bleacher to where she was sitting. "Don't you dare try to escape." She glares at the man and hopes he will be smart to listen. The last thing she wants to do is traumatize Blake by having to shoot his dad.

Next to Angela now, Harper pulls her close and envelops her in a hug. "We're gonna keep you all safe and bring the son of a bitch down. I promise," she whispers close to her ear.

Angela nods and after a moment pulls back, wiping her tears away. "Thank you."

"Anytime, partner." Before Harper can say anything else the moment is broken as a cheer erupts through the crowd. Tim's team has somehow won, and all the kids are shouting and hugging each other as their parents clap from the stands. But Angela and Harper are both staring wide-eyed at their friends as Tim dips his head and places a chaste kiss to Lucy's lips.

"They've totally forgotten we're here," Harper points out.

"Too bad, I was looking forward to that triple date after all." Angela chuckles, as they stand up and begin to walk towards the parking lot, handing their suspect to a patrol that's waiting for them and promising to tell Blake he was called into work early.

Walking back to the field, Angela smirks at Tim when his eyes go wide and his mouth gapes open when he sees them, his part down under seemingly catching up to his brain and the fact they're in a public park with their coworkers around. "Congratulations, Timothy," Angela calls in a sing-song voice, joining Tim, Lucy, and Genny near the mound.

Tim narrows his eyes, suspecting her words are about more than baseball, but he wisely stays silent and just hums his gratitude.

"Uncle Tim, Coach Lucy, we're going to In-N-Out to celebrate. Wanna come?" Tyler shouts, interrupting the moment.

Tim turns to Lucy and raises an eyebrow in question. She smiles at him but shakes her head softly. "I will join you guys next time. Coach Lucy had a very long day at work."

Tyler nods and thanks Lucy for helping coach his team before running back to the dugout to his friends.

"I will see you all next shift, and next practice," she tells her coworkers and secret sister-in-law, respectively. Then waves goodbye and makes a quick retreat, having recognized the glint on Angela's eyes and wanting nothing to do with that.

"You coming with us? Or do you have other plans?" Genny asks Tim in a way that lets him know she absolutely thinks he does.

"I can't. Kojo," he says as a way of an explanation and ignores all three women rolling their eyes because they all know he has a very reliable pet-sitter. He quickly thanks the parents for being there and rushes after Lucy, his defenses still up.

"I'm sorry about him," Genny says sheepishly, chuckling when they nod knowingly and wave her concern away. "He thinks nobody knows but even Tamara has been texting me about all the time he's spending at the apartment."

"Well, that won't last long," Harper deadpans, and at their questioning look, clarifies, "He turned right towards Lucy's apartment and not left towards his house." She points to their cars in the distance and they all can't help but laugh when they see Tim's truck a few cars behind Lucy as they head east towards her home.

As they walk back to their cars, Genny's words catch up to Angela and she stops and turns to her. "Wait, you know Tamara?"

Genny nods, then further explains. "Tim asked if a friend from work could spend Christmas with us. I knew it would be Lucy but didn't make a huge deal and agreed. A few days later he texted asking if her roommate could come too and the rest is history."

"Interesting," Angela murmurs as they resume their walk, thinking that they must be further along in their relationship than she'd thought. Reaching the parking lot, she says her goodbyes and goes to her car, feeling lighter than when she arrived.

And even lighter she feels as she pulls out her phone and sends a quick text to Tim before backing out of her spot and driving home to Wes and Jack.

-x-x-x-

Tim had been on edge ever since Lucy's domestic violence call earlier that day. That's the only explanation to how he beats her to her apartment even when he had left the field after her. Now as he sits nervously in his car, he can't shake the feeling that she might be worse off than she had let on at the game.

Domestic violence calls were some of the worst and he had seen her roll her shoulders and rub at a spot on the back of her head a few times during the game when she thought he wasn't looking. As her former T.O., he knows she is ready to handle that and any call on her own, but as her boyfriend, he can't help but worry.

As he sits there, he thinks back to the first time they met. She was the hotshot rookie with a personality brighter than the sun and he was the broody training officer pissed off with life and missing his ex-wife. They were like oil and water but somehow had grown up to have a great partnership and friendship. In between psychoanalyzing his personal life and impressing him on the job, she snuck up on him and he had found himself growing increasingly attached to her, and before he knew it, he was a goner and head over heels in love with his rookie.

Once upon a time the thought would have scared him but now, he smiles to himself and lets out a sigh of relief when her car finally pulls into the parking spot next to his. He watches as she gets out of her car, his eyes scanning her warily as he looks for hidden injuries or anything that seems out of place.

Getting out of his car, he walks to her, and she turns to him, a small smile on her face. "Hey," she says.

"Hey," he echoes, pulling her into a hug. "Are you okay?"

She nods, burrowing deeper into his arms. "I'm okay, and better now. It was a tough call but nothing I couldn't handle."

"No surprise there. I'm proud of you," Tim whispers against her hair. "But I was still so worried when I heard the call. We didn't get an update until after arresting Moses and Quinlan's crew and dispatch said there had been an altercation at the scene. And when I finally got back to the station you were already gone. I've been wanting to hug you since I saw you at the game."

Lucy tightens her arms around Tim's middle and rests her head over his heart, her own skipping a beat like every time he says he's proud of her. "I know, I'm sorry. Commander Grey let me go after I was done with processing Kyra and Oliver." Tim makes a questioning sound at the back of his throat, so Lucy tells him the full story of how she ended up arresting both the victim and perpetrator.

Tim holds her tighter as she speaks, grateful that she's here, safe with him, but still a little bit on edge. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks, me too," Lucy says genuinely. "Want to come inside?"

He nods before pulling back, cupping her cheek as he dips his head to press a kiss to her lips. Lucy hums in contentment and raises on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss before they step away.

As they walk to her apartment, Tim can't help but notice the weariness in Lucy's posture. Her eyes look tired, and her pace is slower than usual, the energy and enthusiasm she had at the game all but gone.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks when they enter, signaling for Lucy to sit on the couch while he goes to the kitchen. "A glass of wine? A cup of tea? Some water?"

"Some tea would be great, thank you," Lucy says and breaks into a smile seeing Tim move so naturally around her place.

Tim makes a cup of her favorite tea and grabs a beer for himself and joins Lucy in the living room. She accepts the tea and takes a sip, then sets it down on the coffee table and lies down on the couch, scooting back until her back is resting against Tim's chest. He tightens his arms around her and rests his chin on the top of her head.

"Want to watch a movie?" Tim asks eventually. He's up for staying like this, secure and content in each other's arms, but he thinks a distraction might be in order.

"Yeah. Something light and funny," Lucy pleads, taking Tim's hand in hers.

"I have just the one." Tim reaches for the remote and pulls up Disney Plus.

When 'The Sandlot' starts playing, Lucy turns around to give him a small smile. She leans back to kiss him and Tim smiles against her lips when he feels her body beginning to relax against his, pleased that he's able to help her move on from a difficult day.

As they watch, Tim strokes Lucy's hair to further calm themselves down, and it isn't until a scene reminds him of Tyler's team that he speaks again. "How do you know so much about baseball?"

"You know I like baseball," Lucy says simply. "And I played softball up until college."

He looks at her, surprised. "How didn't I know that?"

"You don't know everything about me, Tim Bradford. But if you play your cards right you might learn a few new things," Lucy says smugly. "But going back to baseball, you know my parents; overachievers and big on extracurriculars. I tried a lot of sports and clubs growing up, but softball is the one that stuck."

"Ah. So, it has nothing to do with this?" Tim asks skeptically, pulling a 'Coaching Baseball for Dummies' book from behind the throw pillow he's been lying on.

Lucy closes her eyes in defeat and hides her blush against Tim's chest. "It's been a while since high school, I had to brush up on my knowledge," she mumbles against his shirt.

Tim leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of her hair. Knowing that in that one action he's fallen a little more in love with her.

They settle in to finish the movie with Tim holding her close, happy that she's safe and secretly looking forward to their next little league practice and the chance to spend more time together outside of the job. He knows this is just the beginning of their journey together and he can't wait to see what the future holds for them.

As the credits roll, Tim leans in and kisses her, infinitely grateful for her presence in his life. But unfortunately, his newfound peace is short-lived when he checks his phone and finds a text from Angela. He grunts at her 'We need to talk. You have been holding out on me, Bradford.' and sets his phone back in his pocket.

The message had been sent around the time they left the field, so he sees no point in entertaining her with a reply when it's already hours late. He keeps it to himself for the night, but tomorrow over breakfast he will talk to Lucy about filling out some paperwork. He knows he won't be able to keep hiding how he feels if she's ever in danger again, so they'd better come clean before Angela gives away their secret.