#A Phoenix First Must Burn

[ofvixensandwolves]

@halfrust (Fallon)

“Oh, look. Media’s calling us besties again. How cute,” Aurélia laughs, lounging on the hotel room bed. As funny as everyone’s misconceptions are, the two women have really got to be more careful when out and about, especially while on holiday together. Aurélia much prefers not to have paparazzi following them and photos pop up on the internet without their knowledge and permission. But that’s pretty impossible when she’s privately dating a rockstar… not to mention, she’s also a footballer, but she likes putting the blame on Fallon.

[woebegonewings]

Trying to figure out a coherent map of Bioshock 1 + 2 Rapture for A Phoenix Must First Burn is impossible, I swear to fuck.

[arkhein-steorra]

@galactia​ asked ❝ whatever anger you’re feeling, whatever loathing toward me, it’s nothing to what i’ve said to myself. ❞ (from Kaeya, for Diluc)

god of war: ragnarok starters || Status: Accepting

No one could leave Diluc feeling bare like Kaeya did. Especially during the worst of the arguments they had on days when no one was there to keep either from using their worst pains against one another.

Tonight had been a very bad night for Diluc and it wouldn’t surprise him if Kaeya had been in the same boat even if Diluc would have never dared to ask. Not that it mattered now as they stood on the outskirts of Mondstadt arguing again.

He guessed he probably should have seen it coming to this, really the only other possible outcome would be coming to blows though that would have been favorable to this conversation. Diluc found himself lost for words, nothing on his tongue that could even begin to justify a response.

Still he couldn’t let Kaeya have the last word, “whatever. I have better things to do.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance back. He didn’t run but he wouldn’t surprise if Kaeya claimed he did later anyway.

[carnivoraformes]

Diluc verses + tags!

CANON. v; ever burning fire (main verse) //

Canon compliant. Focusing after the Mondstadt arc.

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 4)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 6.2k words

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff, banter, Walburga Black, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. Now, you're moving in to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The group watched as the row of townhomes groaned and stretched to expose 12 Grimmauld place in all her glory. Sirius was certain he could hear his mother and father rolling in their graves to know that he – their disinherited blood-traitor son – was the last Black and official heir once again to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. He grimaced at the title. 

“Two disgraced Black’s returning to the scene of the crime.” Ted Tonks joked, both Sirius and Andromeda gave him a look. 

“Feels like the beginning of a bad, racist joke.” James mused.

Sirius groaned in response. “What happens when three blood-traitors, three muggle-borns and one half-blood half-breed walk into a bar?” 

“Get drunk, I hope.” Lily muttered miserably. 

“Well, Sirius, welcome home.” Andromeda announced as she made her way up the stairs to the front door. Sirius pushed the door open and stepped inside a house he hadn’t stepped foot into since he was sixteen years old. He had been so sure at that time that he’d never return; he wished he had been right. 

The house was just as dark and gloomy as it had been when he left it, but it was now also covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Okay, please, for the love of all that is holy: Lily, Y/N, Remus, Ted: you are to touch nothing until Andromeda, James or I have checked it first.” Sirius said before pausing, “Scratch that. Touch nothing until Andromeda or I have checked it – okay?”

This earned him an indignant ‘hey!’ from James and a quick agreement from everyone else. 

“YOU DISGRACEFUL, WRETCHED BOY!” Sirius’s face drained of all colour at the all-too-familiar sound of his mother’s screeching.

“That old hag is supposed to be dead!” He shouted as he and Andromeda ran up the stairs following the sound of his foul-mouthed mother.

“HOW DARE YOU STEP FOOT INTO THIS MOST NOBLE AND ANCIENT HOUSE, YOU FLITHY BLOOD TRAITOR!” the screeching continued.

The source of the chaos came from none other than an awful magical portrait of the very late Walburga Black, Sirius’ mother and Andromeda’s aunt.

“Oh, thank Godric, she is dead.” Sirius sighed in relief, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the very unwelcome company haunting this house.

“Maybe we can remove it?” Andromeda mused as she tried to pull the portrait from the wall. 

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME; SULLYING YOURSELF WITH THE LIKES OF MUDBLOODS YOU TRAITOROUS WHORE.”

“Charming as always, Aunt Walburga.” She muttered when her pulling was for naught. 

Sirius attempted a silencio which seemed to work for at least a little as Walburga’s face contorted with rage and she continued spewing what Sirius could only assume was foul hatred for all things not Voldemort related. 

“Okay so that will last like, not long enough at all. Merlin, I wish we could just burn this place down with her in it.” He muttered as they made their way back downstairs. Ted and James were cooing over a crying Harry who must have been upset at the screeching of the house’s previous occupant, while Remus and Lily muttered quietly to each other. You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, appearing bored for all intents and purposes, but Sirius could tell you were straining your neck to peer into the rooms you could see from your post. 

“Okay, semi-false alarm. Walburga is indeed still dead.” Sirius stated which was met with a cheer from James causing Harry to clap in comradery.  

“However, she has cursed us with a magical portrait of herself stuck on the wall with a permanent sticking charm.” He finished, causing James to groan and Harry to start crying again. 

“Okay, so, ignoring the unpleasant company for now, where do we start?” Lily interrupted. 

“First of all, Red, as I said you will not be starting anywhere.” Sirius rallied. 

“Sirius, this place is huge, and we need to clear a space for six of us to sleep tonight.” She countered, but the argument was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. 

Everyone exchanged nervous glances. “Literally, no one should know we’re here.” James muttered. 

“It could be Moody?” Remus offered nervously. 

“Should Kreacher answer the door, Master.” A crotchety old voice sneered from behind him, causing Sirius to yelp and jump what felt like a foot in the air. 

“Merlin’s tits.” James muttered as Harry started shrieking again. 

“Godric, I’ve never seen you not hanging off my mother’s bosom; I sort of hoped you had died with her.” He muttered, rubbing his chest trying to convince his heart to return to a normal pace.

“Sirius.” You scolded from your place against the wall. 

“Kreacher lives to serve the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, even if it’s occupants are filthy blood-traitors and their mud-bloods.” The ancient house-elf muttered. 

“New management, new rule Kreacher, no more mud-blood talk.” Sirius barked.

“Yes, Master.” The elf sneered before heading toward the door. Sirius quickly pulled you and Lily, who was now holding a sniffling Harry, behind him much to the chagrin of the two women. 

“Master, the wizard tells Kreacher that he’s a curse breaker sent by a Moody.” The elf mumbles over his shoulder. 

Sirius relinquished his hold on the two witches and allowed the man entry. 

Sirius reiterated to the curse breaker that Lily, Remus, you, and Ted were not to touch anything in any room until the curse breaker, Sirius or Andromeda cleared it first. The curse breaker showed James, Andromeda, and Sirius a few detection spells and a few simple reversal charms before they set off to different levels of the house; Sirius and Andromeda decided to focus on the bedrooms and bathrooms whilst the curse break started in the shared living spaces on the first floor, and James went to the kitchen with Kreacher. 

Sirius felt like he was making decent progress. He and Andromeda had cleared out three bedrooms and two bathrooms between the second and third floors, and he had worked up a decent sweat. He had two boxes of dark artifacts to be either destroyed, uncursed or donated. The screeching had started back up in earnest again when the silencio wore off an hour after casting. 

“You miserable hag.” Sirius muttered as he marched over to his mother’s portrait to recast the spell. Once the ringing in his ears stopped, he heard another shriek and a bang.

“Y/N!” Lily could be heard shouting, and Sirius bolted down the stairs. He arrived in the parlour at the same time as Remus and James. 

“What happened?” Remus demanded. 

“She touched a book!” Lily tattled. 

“I’m fine.” You muttered as you sat up and cradled your right wrist. 

Sirius sighed, fear melting into frustration which quickly melted into fondness. “You sneaky little witch.” He muttered as he moved to crouch beside you. “Let me see.”

“No.” You pouted. 

“Y/N.” 

“No. I’m fine.” 

“Let me see your hand.”

“Bugger off.” 

“You minx.” 

Sirius sat there biting his cheek trying to suppress a grin at the sight of you sitting petulantly feeling embarrassed being caught having done something naughty. 

“What did I say?” Sirius scolded.

You muttered something under your breath.

“What was that?” He smirked, leaning his ear closer to you for dramatic effect. 

“Not to touch anything.”

“Uh huh. And what did you do?” 

“I touched something.” 

Sirius was full on beaming at you now. 

“Thought so, let me see.” 

You let out an indignant huff and held your wrist out to Sirius, who despite his crassness, took it so unbelievably gently in his own hands. It appeared that you had touched something that was cursed with a knock-back jinx, which twisted your wrist violently on impact. It could have been worse, small mercies. 

“Dollface, I could have gotten you a book if you were bored.” Sirius commented as he reduced the swelling with a quick flick of his wand and placed a glacius charm to help with any more inflammation. 

“Don’t tease me.” You whispered miserably, and Sirius looked up to see that your eyes were glassy. 

“Are the tears because you’re hurt, because you’re scared, or because you’re embarrassed?” Sirius whispered back. Your eyes met his and a single tear fell. He lifted his hand which was met with a mild flinch before he gently wiped it away with his thumb. 

“I’m not teasing, love. And you don’t have to be embarrassed; if it hadn’t been you, it would have been Moony.” Which was met with an indignant ‘Oi!’ from the werewolf who had moved down the hall in an attempt to give them privacy. “You also don’t have to be scared. Alright?”

You held his gaze before nodding with a sniff. He massaged your wrist and hand gently, recasting a glacius over the injury. 

“Did I teach you this?” You asked quietly, causing Sirius’ head to shoot up from its lowered position.

“Do you remember?” He asked unbelievingly. 

You moved your head back-and-forth as if to say so-so. “I remember...uhm-”

He waited with bated breath watching your face as you organized your thoughts.

“Bludgers. The smell of cigarettes and broom wax. And a broken wrist.” 

Sirius was sure he heard angels singing. Her first memory is resurfacing. And it’s when I broke my wrist playing quidditch at Potter manor.

“It was you, wasn’t it? Who broke their wrist?” You clarified. 

Sirius nodded dumbly. “Yes.” He croaked. 

“I think you got hurt often.”

Sirius chuckled, “Yes, I certainly did.” 

“That must have been exciting.” You mused. 

“I’m sure I was exhausting.” He countered as he continued massaging your arm. He could probably stop now, but he really didn’t want to. 

“Please; you got hurt because you were playing quidditch, I got hurt because I touched a book after I was specifically told not to touch anything.” 

Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, come now. It’s my fault really; I should have known better than to try to tell you what to do.” 

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments; Sirius continuing to work out tension in your arm. 

“Which book was it?” He asked you finally. He seemed to catch you off guard, as you looked at him inquisitively. “Which book were you trying to read?”

You blushed but stood up and pointed to the offending book. Secrets of the Darkest Art. 

“All this fuss over a book, babe?” he smirked at you as your blush intensified. He cast a quick counter curse over it like the curse breaker taught him and handed you the book. 

“Now please, for the love of Merlin, don’t touch anything else?” He asked with a smile which was met with a shy smile of your own.

“Thanks, Siri.” You mumbled. His heart soared at your use of his old nickname, and before he even realized what he was doing, he bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Read up, my little swot. I think I heard Kreacher muttering about making dinner. Hopefully it’s not poisoned.” He said as he exited the room. 

Turns out, dinner was not poisoned, and it was actually quite good. They all thanked Kreacher even though the elf acted as if the simple act of feeding them would be the thing to damn him straight to hell. The Tonks’ were quite eager to leave after the fourth rousing of Walburga and left before the dinner was served. Andromeda and Sirius had managed to de-dark-art-ify all the bedrooms on the second and third floor plus the bathrooms. They opted to leave his parents room, and his and Regulus’ rooms untouched. As much as they teased poor James, he accomplished quite a lot in the kitchen and main living room, while the curse breaker focused on the hallways and various parlour rooms on the main floor. Lily mentioned that she wouldn’t mind brightening the place up if Sirius was open to some redecorating – to which he responded with a quick “If it were up to me, Red, this place would be in flames by now”, so she advised she’d make some plans tomorrow. You and Remus fussed over Harry to save Kreacher from anymore toddler ear yanks, but if the house-elf was grateful for the interference, he didn’t show it. A message arrived stating that the cottage in Godric’s Hollow appeared to be secure; Lily looked like she wanted to cry at the prospect of being reunited with her things. 

Remus said goodbye to everyone after dinner, stating he couldn’t leave the flat unattended since Sirius appears to be willing to neglect it for the next foreseeable future, which was met with a two-finger salute from Sirius and boos from James which were then chorused by Harry. 

“It’s meant to be a slumber party, Moony. Just like the old days.” James whined, which sucked the air out of the room; it suddenly became very obvious to Sirius, James, Lily, and Remus that they had been betrayed by their closest friend, who was possibly responsible for the death of some of their other friends. 

“Pads, we can’t keep paying for a flat that no one is using.” Remus argued.

“Uhm, I can, and I will, thank you very much. What’s the point of inheriting all of my family’s dirty money if I can’t waste it on whatever I want?” 

Remus sighed, “Fine. I’m going home tonight, though. I can’t leave the cat and the plants.”

“You’re such a good daddy.” Lily smirked from the end of the table. 

“Shush, you.” Remus said as he ruffled her hair before smoothing it out and kissing the top of her head. He moved to Harry and placed a kiss there too, before James stuck his head up as if he, too, was waiting for a kiss. Remus rolled his eyes before pecking both James and Sirius on the head and pausing at you. 

“What? No kiss for me, Moony?” You smirked and teasingly batted your eyelashes at him. Remus laughed and placed a kiss on your head before waving and promising everyone he’d be back tomorrow, cat and plants in tow. 

Much to Kreacher’s chagrin, Sirius and James insisted on cleaning up the kitchen themselves which got a “filthy blood-traitor’s” being cursed at them. He then announced he’d be going to the house in Godric’s Hollow to retrieve their belongings – surprising James and Sirius into silence. 

Lily and James took the farthest room on the second floor, it was the largest which left plenty of room for a crib for Harry, and it had their own washroom. Sirius held the bags containing your things and watched as you inspected the other rooms, allowing you to choose next.

“Which room do you suppose Remus would like?” You asked him.

“Vix, it doesn’t matter. You choose.”

“If he has plants, maybe this room? It would get nice light in the evenings; I don’t think he’d appreciate the morning light.” You mused as if he hadn’t said anything at all. 

Sirius couldn’t even celebrate the fact that you seemed to correctly remember something about Remus before he nagged you. “Y/N, for the love of Merlin, pick a room.” 

“Well, which room are you taking?”

Sirius paused. “What?”

“Which room will you take?” 

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “I have my old room upstairs. I was just going to stay there.” 

You paused. “You aren’t going to stay down here? With us?” The ‘with me?’ was unspoken but Sirius heard it anyway. 

“Oh, right. No, of course. Erm.” He looked at the three rooms. It appeared you had already decided the middle room was Remus’ – what with the sunlight for the cat or the plants or the sleeping or what-not. There were two other rooms kiddie-corner to each other. The one at the end of the hall was the largest of the two, and had windows on two walls, versus just the one wall containing windows in the other room. 

“I think I’ll take this one.” He said, motioning to the smaller room. It was directly across the hall from the washroom, which was beside the last room – your room – which meant he would be close by. 

“Okay.” You nodded, looking into the room you essentially forced Sirius into picking for you. “I’ll take this one then.” You smiled at him as if you chose it for yourself.

“Good choice, gorgeous.” He said as he placed your bags on the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. “Can’t wait to see what Lil’s comes up with for this place – all the Slytherin green needs to go.” 

You hummed and looked around the dark room. “I don’t know, the snakes and skulls are really warm and inviting, Sirius. Don’t fix what ain’t broken.” You finished the sentence in a poorly done southern American accent.

The two of you quipped back and forth about the décor in various accents as you unpacked your bags. Sirius found the scene to unbelievably domestic and lovely, basking in the effervescent glow that was your company until you both retired for bed.

Sirius pushed the door open as quietly as he could and stole a glance at you; your breathing was even as you slept curled up in the fetal position on the bed where he’d left you several hours ago. 

With a sigh, Sirius made his way down the stairs to the large parlour room – not coincidentally the one he knew had his late father’s liquor stored in an antique bar cart. He knew he shouldn’t – James and Lily fussed over him for months after you went missing, watching him spiral into himself as he tried to drink away his issues. He had to work hard not to end up completely dependent on alcohol – and it still wasn’t enough for him to stay in his supervisor’s good graces. 

“You’re a good Auror, Sirius, and a mighty strong wizard – but this is getting out of control, and I cannot allow you to continue putting the rest of my staff at risk.” Moody had told him, and he was placed on a medical leave until James could confirm to Moody that he had gone a full four weeks without a drink. 

Sirius sat with a crystal glass of fire whiskey and cast a quick incendio to light the fireplace. I feel like the ghost of my father he thought darkly. The Black’s were all basically carbon copies of each other – the only difference between the two Black sons and Walburga was that they had their father’s silver eyes. If Kreacher walked in now, he’d probably think he was looking at a down-and-out younger Orion Black, if Orion Black ever wore checkered pyjama pants and a band tee. 

The fire whiskey was leaving a comfortable warmth in his stomach and esophagus as he leaned his head back against the chair. He felt so incredibly guilty. 

Guilty for trusting Peter. Guilty for ever thinking the spy could be anyone but him. Guilty for believing you to be dead all of this time – when he could have been looking for you, should have been looking for you. Guilty to shouting your business in front of your friends. Guilty for ever introducing Peter to you. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

His musings were interrupted by a gentle knock on the parlour room doorframe. His eyes shot open, and he pointed his wand toward the disturbance, only to find the silhouette of you donned in pyjama shorts and a pullover jumper. He sighed in relief and unceremoniously tossed his wand back onto the side table. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” You offered quietly. 

“No worries, love. I think everyone’s a touch jumpy these days.” He muttered, taking another sip from his glass. 

You surveyed him from the door for a few moments before moving to sit in the matching wingback chair beside him, separated by only a small table. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You asked.

Sirius hummed, “Not well. Not for the last five months. Maybe longer.”

You nodded in agreement as you watched the flames dance in the fireplace. You hadn’t seen Sirius like this – not since you’ve been back, at least – but something about this mood of his felt familiar to you.

“Are you alright?” 

Sirius laughed humourlessly. “The captive of an evil terrorist organization is asking me if I am okay because I happened to have my feelings hurt?” 

He looked over at you, expecting to find signs of frustration or annoyance at his flippancy and obvious deflection. But - like he should have expected - all he saw was patience and understanding, and it broke him. 

He hiccupped loudly and put his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered miserably. 

“What is it you’re apologizing for?” You asked quietly. 

“For losing you. For allowing it to happen. For introducing you to Pete. For trusting him with any of you. For believing you were dead. For feeling at all sorry for myself because I simply missed you whilst you were out there fighting for your fucking life. For telling you any of this.” He moaned.

You chuckled softly. “You do realize you’re apologizing on behalf of a lot of other people right now, right?” 

Sirius raised his head to look at you.

“Don’t let them off the hook that easily.” You added seriously.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re apologizing for the way Peter treated me as if it was your fault – by doing so, you’re relieving him of an awful lot of responsibility.” You stated simply. Sirius watched the flames dance in your eyes as you watched the fire. 

“You believed me to be dead, and you mourned me – that’s not a punishable offence, Sirius. In fact, I think I’d likely be miffed if you hadn’t seemed affected at all.”

Sirius smirked at that.

“And finally, you don’t need to apologize for telling me things when I was the one who asked you to.” 

Sirius shook his head. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” He muttered. 

“You can do that tomorrow.” You stated plainly with a shrug. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” 

You sat in companionable silence as you both watched the fire. It wasn’t often Sirius found himself to be comfortable with silence and empty moments. Silence growing up always meant room for scrutiny – or it was due to his parents ignoring him to teach him a lesson. But it had always been so, incredibly refreshing with you. He always felt safe with you when neither of you felt the need to say anything at all, and just exist together in silence. 

“At the meeting, you asked me if we were just friends before.” Sirius asked quietly. He continued when you hummed in acknowledgement. “Is that because you remembered?”

You considered his question for a moment. “Perhaps a bit. I don’t necessarily remember the moments or conversations, but I think a part of me remembers the feelings.” 

Sirius hummed. “And the other bit?” He prodded as he turned to look at you. You smirked in response.

“Well, you’re not exactly subtle, love.” You winked at him. 

Sirius barked a laugh. “No, I don’t think subtlety is a trait I possess.” He agreed. 

“Lucky me.” 

He stared at you for a long while.

“I don’t know how good at it I was.” He admitted. 

“At what?”

“At loving you.”

You both let that hang in the air as you held each other’s gaze. 

“But it was the best thing about me – getting to love you; being loved by you.” He added. 

“That’s what woke me up.” 

Sirius furrowed his brows. “Hm?” 

You turned your gaze back to the fire. 

“In my dream – or I suppose it was a memory. You and I were fighting; I accused you of only loving yourself. You laughed before you said ‘Actually, Princess, I hate myself. The only person worth love here is you.’”. 

Sirius remembered that fight. It was after you had finally started talking to him again after the Worst Day of His Life™. You both decided to hash out exactly what happened that night with the stupid eyelash batting Hufflepuff that ended with you sleeping in Lily and Remus’ embrace after they had to clean up his mess. 

(The boys dormitory, Hogwarts)

“It doesn’t matter, Sirius. What happened, happened, and it’s in the past.”

“It does matter though, because it hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, it doesn’t matter; I’m over it and it clearly meant nothing to you.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Decide what means something to me.” 

“I didn’t, Sirius. You did. That night – you decided what I meant to you, which apparently wasn't much. It’s fine, you’re allowed to sleep with whoever you want. The relationship clearly meant more to me than it did to you – that was my mistake.” 

“You weren’t mistaken!” 

“Then why wasn’t it me!?” You finally shouted at him, tears begging to fall from your lower lash line. 

Sirius didn’t have an answer for that. You scoffed at his lack of response and wiped angrily at your face. 

“I don’t know why we’re even doing this.” 

“Because it’s important.”

“It’s not important. It’s history. I’m over it.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say you’re over it.” The ‘over me’ in Sirius’ plea was left unsaid.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Sirius.”

“I just want things to go back to the way they were before. What can I do to fix this?” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Sirius.”

“Bullshit.” 

You stayed quiet.

“So, what? Am I not worth it then? Am I not worth fighting for?” He accused. Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Sirius, that’s not fair.”

“You’re not giving me anything else to go off here!” 

“What about me!?” You shouted. “I need to look after myself for a change, Sirius. Because what all of this has taught me is that the only person you’re truly able to love is yourself.”

Sirius couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh; a real, loud belly laugh that began to hurt his sides. 

“What the fuck is so funny?” 

“You’re so far from the mark you can’t even see it anymore.” He laughed as he collected himself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, Princess, I hate myself. The only person worth love here is you.”

(present)

Sirius sighed. “Why couldn’t your first memory of me be me doing something awesome; like the time I caught you when you fell off your broom or something.” 

You laughed. “I had bruises from your death grip after that fall for weeks. And you were so annoying – you would hardly let me walk down the hallway without your constant supervision.” 

You both seemed startled at your recounting the memory, but neither commented on it.

“Well excuse me, love. What makes you think I should trust you on the moving staircases with your nose shoved into a book if you couldn’t even handle a simple flight session on a school broom a mere twenty feet off the ground, 

“Oh please, I didn’t have my nose shoved into a book.”

“You did too.” 

“And I was definitely at least fifty feet off the ground – probably more.”

“Nope, wrong again.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“Must be exhausting being wrong all the time.” 

“You son of a bitch.” 

The two of you laughed; the familiarity of the banter and joking felt like a warm hug for you both. You fell into a companionable silence until the crackling of the fire was interrupted by a yawn you tried unsuccessfully to suppress. 

“Come on, love. Let’s get you back to bed.” Sirius said as he stood, standing in front of you and offering you his hand. 

You jokingly whined but allowed yourself to be pulled up by the black-haired man. 

“You look like a hockey player” You blurted as you walked hand-in-hand up the stairs. 

“Pardon me?” Sirius asked incredulously. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, and he relished in the feeling. “The hair cut – it’s like a hockey player’s; they call it a ‘flow’.” 

“A flow?” He smirked. 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you like it?” He asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Love it.” You offered immediately as if it was the most obvious answer. 

You paused at your respective bedroom doors, neither seemingly wanting to part ways. Well, Sirius knew he didn’t, and he assumed the tightening of your hold on his hand meant that you felt the same. 

He wanted to hold you. He wanted to wrap you up in bed and stay there with you until the world ended. He wanted your hands to be fused together so that he’d never have to be without you by his side ever again. But he also didn’t want to push you; this was your call – he would let you choose; always. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” You admitted quietly, almost as if you were embarrassed by the admission. 

Sirius gave your hand three quick squeezes – a code the two of you had made when you realized that Sirius sometimes struggled to express his feelings verbally. 

“Three taps or squeezes means ‘I love you.’” You had said to him simply.

“Babe, every breath I take means ‘I love you.’” He countered before placing a searing kiss to your lips. 

“Funny, that. Neither do I.” He replied.

“Stay with me?” You asked him, eyes shyly meeting his.

“I’d love nothing more.” He said, as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come on, love. Let’s try to get some sleep.” 

James had tossed and turned all night, waking up in cold sweats. He had been eager each time to change Harry’s diaper or do a feeding, bouncing him a little longer than strictly necessary just to avoid having to be alone with his own thoughts again. But by the third time he woke Lily up in a panic, she’d kicked him out of the room.

“Potter, I love you, but if you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to live the rest of my life as a widow.” And with that, he was banished from their bedroom. 

He padded his way down the hallway, poking his head into the other doors. The room in the middle of the hallways was vacant; probably Moony’s he mused. The next room was also empty, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone had been sleeping in here, but also couldn’t sleep. 

He poked his head into the last room and spotted two figures curled up in the bed, holding onto each other as if one of them could float away at any moment. 

There was a voice in James’ head that told him he should leave them; they were likely having just as hard a time sleeping as he was. Also, it’d be weird to join them. However, there was a louder voice in James’ head that was screaming to climb into bed with them; so that’s the one he listened to. James had never been very good with boundaries. 

He crawled onto the other side of Sirius and slid under the covers. 

“Are you serious right now?” He heard his mate mutter groggily. 

James smirked as he curled up behind him. “No, you’re Sirius.” 

Sirius groaned. “Five points from Gryffindor for the terrible joke that only I’m allowed to make, and another five points for touching me with your cold ass feet.” But he didn’t tell James to leave, so he took that as a win.

“How’s she?” He asked quietly. 

“So good, considering.” Sirius answered.

“I can’t believe him...” James started quietly, but he needn’t finish; they both knew who he was talking about.

Sirius took a deep breath. “I feel, guilty. Bad. Y/N says I shouldn’t.”

“Of course she would, she’s perfect.” James offered easily. 

Sirius smiled into the top of your sleeping head. “She is.” He agreed.

“I can’t believe she survived, all that time.”

The two men sat, marvelling at your perseverance. “I’m dying to know who her allies were.”

Sirius hummed. “Me too. I don’t know how to feel about them yet.”

James nodded. “That’s okay, I don’t much know how to feel about a lot of things.”

Sirius snorted and then tensed, worried about waking you, but your breath remained even. 

“Do you blame me?”

Sirius eyes flew open at that.

“Pardon?”

James sighed before repeating himself. “Do you blame me, for Pete?”

“What about him.”

“Well, I’ve been wondering, would you and Remus ever had made friends with him had I not dragged him along with us?”

Sirius laughed. “Okay, if it were left up to Remus, no one would have ever talked to him ever and he would’ve made exactly zero friends, so I don’t think you’re asking the right questions.”

“Pads...”

“No. Of course not.” Sirius stated. James remained quiet and tense behind him. 

“I think Peter made a choice. He made a lot of choices, but he made a choice.” He said as he thought of your earlier words. Don’t let him off the hook that easily. “He has a lot to atone for.”

He could feel James nod and they sat in silence for some time, watching the lights move from the street below them.

Sirius was pretty well asleep when James spoke up again. 

“So, are you guys like, back together?”

Sirius scrunched his face. “What in the hells are you talking about?”

“You and Vix? Does this mean mom and dad are back together again?” 

“James, she doesn’t remember me.”

“Well that just can’t be true.” James argued.

“Why’s that?”

“No one who doesn’t know you would let you sleep in their bed, Pads. You look like a bad idea.”

Sirius groaned. “She remembers some things.”

“Nice! Anything about me?” James asked excitedly. 

“Yes.” You muttered sleepily. “I remember that you’re unbearably annoying.” 

Sirius beamed and pressed a kiss to your hair. 

Lily began to redecorate, though she muttered unhappily the entire time about not being able to run to the shops. Every wall was painted white, causing each space to look far brighter and bigger than it had before. James took down every framed piece of art and gave it to Harry and Sirius to paint over – what were once paintings full of dark objects and pureblood legacy were now Gryffindor logos, the Hogwarts castle, a golden snitch, owls, self-portraits, or, in Harry’s case, a big truck. (If you close your eyes, you can absolutely see it). 

Sirius insisted the house was still chock full of “bad vibes”, but everyone else already felt less suppressed. 

Your memories were slowly returning to you, and much to everyone’s chagrin and to his absolute delight, Remus seemed to be the first of your friends you completely unravelled. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” James cried.

“I’ve never been so offended in my life.” Sirius muttered.

Lily refused to speak on the matter...but she also (playfully) refused to speak a word to you at all.

“I mean, really, what’s Moons got that I don’t?” Sirius whined as he watched the golden coloured orb on your scan get accessed by the travelling lights without incident. 

“Class, obviously.” Remus claimed haughtily.

“Oh, I’ll show you class.” Sirius barked before launching himself at Remus who was sitting in an armchair with a book in his hand. 

The two boys men struggled with each other, Remus never leaving the armchair nor dropping his book, before Sirius began whining.

“Say it.” Remus said with a smirk.

“Moony!”

“Say it.”

“Uncle! Uncle!” Sirius cried and Remus released his hold on his arm. 

“Real classy boys.” Lily said with a roll of her eyes. 

It had been about a week since Vix had been home and it was about a week until the next full, so Remus could not figure out why he felt so itchy. 

“Maybe you’ve got fleas.” James offered as he shoved roast potatoes in his mouth.

“I don’t have fleas, you sod.” Remus muttered.

“No, that’s usually a Padfoot problem.” Lily chortled

Sirius elicited a dramatic gasp and held his hand to his chest.

“I have never once in my life had flea’s you hag.”

“Don’t call my wife a hag!”

“Then tell her not to act like one!”

“Can we not do this at the dinner table?” You moaned with a roll of your eyes. Both men stopped the antics and looked down at their plates, shame faced. 

“Sorry mum.” They chorused. 

You smirked and looked over to Remus, who still looked unsettled. “It’s not usual for you to get like this, this far from the moon.” You commented.

“No.” Remus muttered miserably. “I don’t know, something just feels off.” 

“Our world has been flipped upside down multiple times this week. I think it will take some time for us to get our bearings again.” Lily admitted.

The adults nodded in agreement; Harry shook his head violently. 

“No? You don’t think so Haz?” James asked his son.

“No!” Harry squealed happily, lifting a handful of crushed roast potatoes in his hand.

“Don’t mind him. That’s his favourite word right now.” Lily explained. 

“Is miss finished?” Kreacher’s voice appeared beside you, causing you to jump in your seat.

“Oh!” You breathed, holding a hand to your chest. “Uhm, yes. Kreacher, thank you.”

The house-elf grunted and took your plate to the sink, before returning and pulling your chair out for you. James and Sirius shared a look at the odd behaviour.

“What are you doing, Kreacher?” Sirius asked.

You looked just as confused as Kreacher helped you stand.

“Kreacher has been asked to retrieve the mudblood.” He said plainly, and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you were gone. 

Continue to part five here.

[syneilesis]

[fic] After Dark

After Dark

Love and Deepspace | Sylus (Qin Che) x Main-Character!Reader | Explicit | 675 words | ao3 link

Sylus eats you out.

A/N: This fic is just Sylus performing cunnilingus on you (f!MC). That's it. That's the fic.

“Still there?”

His dusk voice cleaves through the thick, musky air, and your mind rings a warning. You try to jerk away, but a hand slides down your thigh, grips your hip. In the dimly lit room, Sylus's touch burns like phoenix fire, a rebirth of your senses, hot with relish.

Your stomach tightens, a gasp escapes.

“Surely that's not all you can take.” Bracketed by your trembling thighs, his head lowers. Murmurs against your mound, “The night is still young, I haven't even started.”

“Sylus—”

A light kiss, and your eyes shut. All you can do right now is lie there naked, Sylus between your legs, and sob from sheer pleasure. He parts your folds with his tongue and licks up a stripe, kisses your clit. Sucks. He hums like he enjoys your reactions, like he's planned this for a while now. The hand on your hip moves towards your middle, and his thumb gives a light press, slides downward.

“Sylus—”

“Didn't I say that I can do this all night?” When he lifts his head to look at you, his mouth and chin shine with your slick and his saliva. And there must be something in your expression, because he smirks wickedly and makes a slow, savoring show of licking his lips—and something inside you sparks into life, one of your thighs twitching against his cheek.

Urgent: “Sylus, I—”

His other hand on your thigh: fingertips ghostly dancing down, down, down, goosebumps in their wake. Sylus maneuvers so his thumbs open you, and under his heavy, molten gaze you feel vulnerable, shy. It makes you want to clam shut.

Sylus notices. “None of that,” he says. Commands. A kiss on your inner thigh, followed by a nip, before he fully feasts on you.

Sylus eats you out like you're a challenge he has to conquer—it's all about the victory and the reward. All your moans, your whimpers, your sighs—his name on your lips—they fill the silence of the room along with the wet sounds his mouth makes as he brings you to an unceasing wave of pleasure.

His tongue enters you and mimes the act of intercourse, a sound forming in his throat, low and carnal that you can't help but clamp your thighs together, trapping his head.

His laughter, rich and dark, reverberating inside you.

He's relentless, merciless, even as you cry his name and your hips roll, erratic, your back arching off the bed, your hands desperately clawing the sheets. Pleasure like electricity, pleasure like heat, cresting and cresting under his mouth, his clever and wicked tongue.

“Sylus, Sylus, Sylus—”

All he responds with is a groan, but the roughness of it—discomfort and desire wrapped in a layer of crumbling control—is what undoes you. Aching tightness, and then release, the pleasure like a landslide overwhelming you and burying you under it. You don't realize that you're screaming his name, tears streaking down your face, senses blind to everything except the pleasure, and his mouth.

When you come to, you see Sylus leaning back, panting, wiping his mouth with his knuckles, harsh satisfaction in his grin. His eyes find yours, and that smile widens, sharpens.

“Phenomenal?” He's goading you, you know, teases a reaction out of you, but you're too wiped out to even summon a word. He chuckles at that and, in a fit of roguish inspiration, drags his tongue across the length of each of his fingers, tasting your slick.

That yanks a whimper out of you.

“I'll be nice to you,” he goes on, moves to align his body with yours, and you can feel his cock, hot and hard and straining. “I'll let you catch your breath first. But after that …”

He pauses, appears to think for a moment, but then he kisses you, open and wet and thrilling.

“After that,” he says once you both part for air, “you better get ready.”

Then he moves to your ear. His breaths warm, tickling; you shudder.

Sylus whispers: “Because I'm just getting started.”

[kurithedweeb]

Dear Sir Garroth,

Allow me to be plain with you, Sir. I'm angry at you. Pissed at you, really. Extraordinarily pissed, if you couldn't tell from the scorched edge of this letter you will likely never see. I'm not even sure why I'm still writing this seeing as I tried to burn it before I finished the first sentence. Perhaps only because it's something to do.

I was stabbed the day before the battle ended, do you remember? By a frost dagger. I would have appreciated the warning that the cold will run through your veins, perhaps from a man who used to wield one himself? You know how the cold afflicts me, you bastard. No matter, my blood is plenty warm with hurt now. Since you first bound it on the field, my stitches have been torn thrice. I collapsed the moment I stepped through the portal and had to be helped into town to see Donna.

Though she may be a wondrously talented medic, Donna is no healer or witch. There's only so much she could do and so she's ordered I remain on bedrest until I've healed to her liking. I'm loathe to bring that woman's wrath down on myself, hence why I am now writing pointless letters to men stranded in different realms. She has four children now, Donna; Yip, twin boys Lello and Rollo, and a girl named Luca. She's only a babe, Luca, still in her swaddling, but the twins must be nearly ten. I tell you this because it's been fifteen years. We've been gone fifteen years. You may still be gone years and years.

Levin is grown now. Lord, even. He resembles you very much, all keen blue eyes and wisps of blond curls falling in his face, but his mannerisms are alike his mothers'. He has a faint trace of your accent in his words, too. He did not recognize me. I'm told he was too young when we left to remember us properly, though Malachi supposedly does. He's a trader these days, out at sea with Logan when we arrived home. Levin didn't speak with me long, as busy all day as our lady is—was. He did tell me he'd been excited to meet us both, that his brother and Uncle Dante had told him stories of us as he'd grown, and he'd known that if we were anything at all like how they'd described then we were good men he'd rather get to know.

Dante's grown old. I last saw him hours ago, and now he is head guard rather than the slight boy fresh from the academy we knew him as. The dark circles under his eyes make me worry he hasn't had a proper rest in years, and he's thin in a way I wish I didn't recognize. Do you remember the night he snuck away to handle the O'khasian archers? You might not. I've found even so soon after to my eyes the days and nights blend together at times. I remember the great tears rolling down his face when you and I removed the arrow and picked the remains from his face. That night left a scar on either cheek, rough ones shaped like starbursts or comets. The shape far-off lights make in the night when you squint just right. He felt so small in the cradle of my arms then. He's of a height with me now, standing eye to eye.

We missed their entire lives in the Matron's realm. Gone in a blink. Our boys, our brother, our friends, they have all moved past us. Irony of irony, they've sent us off into the Matron's embrace already, Sir Garroth Ro'Meave. Buried us and moved on.

Because of your actions, we have missed the whole of their lives, the lives we could have shared with them. Should have. All for what? For a man you hadn't seen in at least a decade, one you no longer knew at all?

Everything has changed because of what you did, you ass. I should tell you I will never forgive this deed of yours. And yet I miss you already.

Sincerely yours,

Your second-in-command, Sir Laurance Zvahl of Phoenix Drop.

[kay-elle-cee]

in the latter days || Read the Prologue on Ao3 A First War AU || 1.4K || Rated M || Playlist

In February of 1983, a cataclysmic shift occurred in the wizarding world, plunging it into chaos. Four years later, revelations shake the core of James Potter’s new reality when, on a mission, he discovers another faction of the Order of the Phoenix — and with them, the woman he thought he’d lost forever.

Now the two broken factions of the Order must team up to finish what they once started, while James and Lily work through four years of loss and rediscovery.

Prologue

At 11:57am, on the 23rd of February, 1983, a curious, blinding light suddenly erupted from the Portishead coastline. A giant, glowing dome of silver and white rested upon the sand for several minutes before burning in on itself with a deafening crack—like wood splintering—and a powerful blast of hot air knocked the many spectators to their knees as they scrambled to see the aftermath.  At 11:57am, on the 23rd of February, 1983, Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort both perished at the hand of the other, after years of war, after countless dead on each side. On a chilly shore in Portishead, the two most powerful wizards of their time fell, and the delicate balance of the wizarding world shattered. At 11:58am, on the 23rd of February, 1983, chaos enveloped the wizarding world in the aftermath of what would become known as The Fall.

[bussyslayer333]

Looking for somebody (to love)

summary: a flurry of bad dates leads bradley bradshaw to you.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader

word count: 5k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut, big dick bradley 🙏 MDNI 18+

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Phoenix had pushed him into this, dating wasn’t really Bradley’s scene. As much as he rebuked Jake’s love ‘em and leave ‘em mentality Bradley wasn’t much better. It was easier that way, no strings and no one left pining when he inevitably was sent on deployment.

He’d been on three dates in total so far this month, each one worse than the last.

The first wasn’t so bad in comparison to the rest. Her name began with an L, Bradley couldn’t quite remember whether it was Lana or Lara, either way Jake had set them up which should have been the first red flag.

She was pretty and blonde, definitely Jake’s type. In fact, Bradley was pretty sure he’d been on a date with the female version of Jake Seresin. The whole date she had talked about herself, and not in the cute, rambley sort of way that Bradley could get behind. But in the braggy, daddy’s money kind of way.

“Yeah and that’s the story of how that bitch of a barista burned my tongue off.” Lan/ra snarled, picking her fork at her salad.

“Oh, yeah, that sounds horrible.” Bradley tried to sound sincere.

“And I didn’t even tell you about the time a waitress scuffed my vintage Dior bag-” She interrupts herself, “fuck is that a tomato?”

Bradley looked up from where he had been cutting at his steak (that she had turned her nose up at) and winced, recalling how she had made a large scene out of not having tomatoes in her salad.

Unfortunately, one of the younger waiters at the restaurant managed to walk past their table as said revelation took place. Bradley’s date snapped her fingers in the poor waiters face, stilling him and looking down at her in fear.

“Hi miss, how can I help?” The waiter, who couldn’t be more than 17, stuttered out.

“Help?!” She looked to Bradley as if to encourage him to join her in complaining.

Bradley looked at the waiter apologetically, hoping for this to pan out calmly. Much like everything else that happened in Bradley’s life, it did not go the way he wanted it to.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Lan(r)a snapped, staring angrily up at the boy.

She stared at him expectantly, clearly waiting for a reply. Bradley wondered if it was worth slamming a few bills on the table and making his way out now.

“Uhm..” The waiter is looking around now, making pleading eye contact with who must be his manager.

Bradley finally tries to speak up, maybe diffuse the situation, “It’s okay, look I’ll just pay and we can get out of here.”

Lan(r)a objected once again, “We won’t be paying for anything! I want this meal free of charge!”

Bradley held in a laugh at her use of “we”, she had made it very clear at the start of the date that he would be paying. He was going to anyway, but her insistence made Bradley’s eyebrows furrow. Before her grating voice could start again, Bradley looked to the waiter.

“If you could just get us the bill, please?” He tried his best to communicate how apologetic he felt through his eyes and hoped that the waiter understood.

The waiter scurried off, fearing for another berating and in lieu of finding the bill.

“Why did you do that?” Bradley’s date seethed.

“I didn’t want to cause a scene,” Bradley didn’t really know why he was explaining himself to this girl.

“Whatever, Jake told me you were a dick anyway.”

Bradley laughed, loud. This girl could not be serious. He stood up and did what he should have done after the first ten minutes of being here. Slapped a hundred on the table and walked out.

In his car, Bradley considered his options. He could go home drink a few beers, maybe wallow about that pitiful date and pass out. Or, he could drive to the Hard Deck where he knew all his friends would be and chew Jake out.

He chose the latter.

“Bagman, what the fuck?”

Jake span around from where he was bent over the pool table, a smile plastered on his face.

“Not with Lana?” Jake chuckled, winding his neck around slightly trying to see if she was in tow.

“Fuck no! Why did you send her on a date with me?” Bradley all but whined to Jake.

By now Phoenix had made her way back from the bar top and was interested in what had seemingly got Bradley’s panties in a twist.

“She’s a friend, I thought you guys would have a lot in common.” Jake’s smile still scheming.

Bradley scoffs, “Like what?”

“You’re both bitches.” Jake cackles, picking his beer out of Phoenix’s hand.

Bradley’s pissed. He all but snatches the beer from Jake’s hands and takes a long swig.

“I’m never going on a date ever again.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Bradley’s vow of no dates didn’t last long. Phoenix had tricked him into another date, this time with someone of Coyote’s choosing. She was one of Javy’s sister’s friends and around the same age as Bradley and she was a total knockout.

When Javy had shown Bradley a picture he thought he was getting pranked. Seeing her in real life was even more insane. He’d decided this time on a more casual date, drinks at a bar in downtown San Diego. Although he was regretting his casual attire now. He definitely should have worn the black button up, Bob said it made his arms pop or whatever.

“Hi, I’m Bradley. Javy’s friend, you must be Maria?”

“Hey.”

Bradley’s eyebrows quirked slightly, maybe she was just nervous?

“Do you want to go in and get some drinks?”

“Sure.”

Okay maybe she’s just a woman of a few words, Bradley liked that. She’s mysterious, and hot. He’s sure he can crack her, maybe a few longing glances with his puppy dog eyes and she’d be done for.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

This was one of Bradley’s many ice breakers he had tried, and he still couldn’t figure out for the life of him whether this girl was that uninterested in him or if she was actually just this goddamn boring.

“I model.”

“Oh cool, I mean I’m not surprised you’re totally beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

Even the bartender was looking somewhat sympathetically at Bradley’s poor attempt at saving this date. They sat in another few seconds of silence as Bradley wondered whether she was going to ask him a question. She did not.

“…yeah I’m a fighter pilot, like Javy?”

“Cool.”

Bradley was about to gouge his eyes out with the trendy metal straws sat in a ceramic pot on the bar top next to him. He mulled over whether he should bite the bullet and ask if she really even wanted to be here. He decided on a more polite version of that.

“So.. what made you decide to come on this date?”

Maria sits quietly for a moment, sips at the straw of her daiquiri and hums.

“I’m not sure.”

Bradley was going to bang his head on the table.

“Yeah I don’t know, I’m not really into guys with facial hair.”

Bradley snorts as he takes a sip of his beer, and Maria pulls back slightly disgusted. He taps a finger against his moustache in consideration. Was she hot enough for him to get rid of the stache?

No.

“Okay, cool. I’m not sure this is gonna work out.”

“Yeah.” Maria shrugs.

Bradley nods curtly, and pays off his tab. As he’s walking out he notices a guy approaching Maria, clean shaven. Bradley sees for the first time tonight a smile grace her face and rolls his eyes.

He’s on the phone to Phoenix as he enters his apartment, “Seriously Phe she was the most boring girl I’ve ever met.”

“What, because she didn’t like your moustache?”

“Shut up, you know that’s not why.”

Phoenix can hear Bradley pacing around his apartment and the opening of the fridge, she hears the clink of a beer opening and decides to bite the bullet.

“Look, I know these past two dates haven’t been great but I have one more for you-”

“Absolutely not.”

Phoenix huffs.“Hear me out. pleeeeeeeeeea-”

Bradley cannot believe he’s on the phone with a thirty year old woman, “Oh my god, fine.”

“She’s an old school friend, recently broken up with her boyfriend so she’s not looking for anything super serious and she’s your type to a T.”

Phoenix can hear Bradley tapping his foot on the wooden floor of his apartment, a sign he’s clearly thinking about her offer. He hums,

“Nothing serious?”

“Not at all.”

Phoenix holds her breath.

“Ugh, fine.”

Bradley hopes he doesn’t regret this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Clare is exactly what Bradley was looking for, as much as he hated to admit it; Phoenix was right. Clare was just what she promised to be, funny, not looking for anything serious and exactly Bradley’s type. Honestly the date was going pretty good considering the horror show that the last two were.

“Nat never told me her pilot friends were so handsome.” She flirted.

Bradley chuckles into his wine glass, “I think Nat would probably throw up if she called me handsome.”

“She’s still that stubborn?” Clare giggles.

“As ever.”

There’s a lull in conversation as flirtatious looks are exchanged whilst they both sip at their wine. It gives Bradley a chance to remind himself to text Phoenix a thank you message.

Clare breaks the silence, “How come you’re single? I feel like you’re too good to be true.”

Bradley stews, wondering if he’s going to reveal himself so early on in the date,

“Well, if I’m being completely transparent I’m usually more of a one night stand kind of guy.”

Clare smirks, “What if I told you that was exactly what I was looking for?”

Bradley’s eyebrows quirk in intrigue, “Oh?”

“I just got out of a long term relationship so I don’t want to jump into something immediately, buuuut I like you Bradley. You’re cute.”

Bradley laughs, “Cute?”

Clare rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Bradley feels the tip of her heel begin to trace its way up his calf, stroking up and down lightly. She looks up at him smiling and he widens his legs, a suggestion for her to continue on her ministrations. It’s a nice kind of teasing, that promises a fun night ahead for Bradley. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited. However, Clare suddenly removes her foot from his calf and sits up straight, Bradley’s about to whine when a deep voice from behind him speaks,

“Shit, Clare?”

Bradley turns to see who Clare’s eyes are locked on. There’s a tall man stood behind him and a pretty woman slightly to the side, her dress short and red.

“Fuck, Daniel what are you doing here?”

“I’m with my date,” Daniel gestures to you.

You frown as the woman you now know as Clare glares at you.

“Yeah well I am too.” Clare folds her arms and gestures to Bradley.

You let your eyes wander to the man sat opposite her. He’s attractive, wavy brown hair, tan skin and muscular. He’s somehow even pulling off his porn stache. You finally pull your eyes away from your date’s ex girlfriend’s date and back to whatever was unfolding in front of you.

Daniel scoffs and gestures to Bradley, “This guy?”

Bradley isn’t sure whether he should be offended or not. As he sizes Daniel up he catches your eye, you’re even prettier on second look. You make a look at him as if to say “is this really happening right now?” and in that moment he decides he likes you infinitely more than Clare.

Clare rolls her eyes at Daniel, “Yeah, and what new skank have you got with you?”

Your eyes widen. This girl cannot be serious. Daniel had told you he’d recently gotten out of a long term relationship but he failed to mention it was clearly with someone who was still hung up on him, and probably vice versa. Your eyes wander back down to Clare’s date who has a disgusted look on his face, clearly equally surprised and annoyed by her words.

He speaks up for you before Daniel does, “That was uncalled for.”

“Bradley you don’t know what Daniel or the girls he used to cheat on me with are like.”

Repulsed by the newfound revelation about your date and tired of being slandered by a girl you’ve never met, you storm out of the restaurant. Early winter air in San Diego is chilly, especially at night when you’re wearing a skimpy slip dress. Your heels clack along the concrete loud enough that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind you. A hand grasps lightly at your shoulder and your shake it off in anger,

“Fuck off Daniel, this isn’t going to work.”

You spin on your heel, ready to berate him further when you realise it’s not Daniel at all.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped out on you. My name’s Bradley.”

Bradley. Clare’s date. He’s gorgeous, big brown eyes lit up by the moon. He’s looking at you with so much concern you don’t even realise that you’ve started crying until he raises a hand to wipe a tear off of your cheek. You blink quickly, willing the tears away and chuckle wetly,

“Sorry, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Please don’t be.” Bradley’s thumb swiped across your cheek in a comforting gesture.

“Hey, do you want to go on a walk?” He suggests, offering his arm to you.

You let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, okay.”

You walk slowly along the sidewalk, arm in arm with Bradley as he tells you about himself and asks about you. You learn that he’s 35 and a fighter pilot for the navy and probably the most charming man you’ve ever met.

He looks at you hesitantly, “Can I ask you something?”

You smile at him reassuringly, “Of course.”

“Why were you on a date with that douche bag? You’re way out of his league.”

You giggle at his suggestion and stare at him as you continue to walk, trusting him to guide you.

“My friends thought I needed to get out more, but every date I’ve been on this past month has been horrific.”

Bradley cackles, “No fucking way!”

You frown at him slightly, not enjoying the feeling of being laughed at. He quickly picks up on your expression and rectifies what he said.

“Sorry, shit, it’s just that’s exactly what happened to me.”

You cock your head to the side and let a small grin onto your face, “Really?”

Bradley smiles, “Totally.” He carries on, “The first girl was insufferable, I’m pretty sure my friend only picked her to annoy me.”

You chuckle, “Damn, why was she so annoying?”

“All she did was talk about herself and her money, and then flipped on the waiter when there was a tomato in her salad.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

You look up at him and giggle, somewhat uncontrollably. He joins in with you until your both leaning on each other for support. Once you’ve stopped laughing and alarming the other people in the street, you realise you’ve come full circle in your walk and back to the front of the restaurant you had left. You peer into the window and see Daniel sat where Bradley was previously, sticking his tongue down Clare’s throat. You hold down another bout of laughter as you look at Bradley’s shocked face.

“They fucking suck, don’t they?” He whispers into your ear.

You look back at him, “Oh 100%.”

You look into each others eyes for a moment, not really sure where to go from here. You hesitantly speak up,

“I should call an uber.”

Bradley frowns, “No way, I’ll drive you.”

You smile, teasing, “Haven’t you ever heard of stranger danger, Bradley?”

“I promise I’m not an axe murderer, sugar.”

You scoff in mock offence, “I’m talking about me.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’ll take my chances.”

Bradley’s bronco is clean, he has a pine scented air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror next to some mini fuzzy dice and he lets the radio hum 70s r&b hits whilst you direct him to your apartment.

When he comes to a slow in front of your apartment building you consider your options for a moment. Were you really about to let the first man who genuinely made you laugh for the first time in months slip out of your hands? Fuck no.

“Would you- Do you want to come up to my apartment with me?”

Bradley is so glad you have more initiative than him.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He steps out of the car and jogs round to help you out of your side. He’s holding your hand as you step down and once your feet are planted on the ground you look up at him and giggle,

“Definitely?” You tease, hand dragging up and down his chest.

He smirks at that and fires back, “I mean, I can just go?”

You roll your eyes and turn on your heel, taking his hand in yours and dragging him behind you, “Yeah sure.”

In your apartment, you make quick work of kicking your heels off. You make your way into the kitchen and return with two beers. Bradley’s sat on your couch, legs spread invitingly wide. You hand a beer to him and he smiles,

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

It’s impossible to ignore the way he makes your stomach flutter with want. Once you’re planted on the couch next to him he pulls your legs onto his lap and strokes a hand up and down your calf.

“So, tell me about your tragic dates.” He speaks, startling you out of your daze.

You take a sip of your beer and lean back, dragging your eyes across his face. He looks genuinely interested so you decide to indulge him.

“The second one was definitely the worst.” You chuckle in memory.

“Colour me intrigued, gorgeous.”

You rolls your eyes at the pet name but continue, “This guy took me to dinner and made eye contact with my boobs the whole time, and when I say the whole time I mean like I couldn’t even tell you what colour his eyes are because we never made actual eye contact for long enough.”

Bradley laughs at your explanation and can’t help himself but glance down at your exposed cleavage, he shrugs appreciatively, making a little “ow!” sound when you smack his shoulder lightly.

“Anyways, he kept insinuating that I was going to sleep with him and when I told him I wasn’t interested he immediately asked for the waitresses number.”

Bradley splutters into his beer and mumbles something about your date “fumbling the bag.”

“I’ve gotta see a picture of this guy,” Bradley laughs, curious as to what type of man could have such audacity.

You smirk and reach for your phone on the coffee table and quickly swipe open instagram, clicking on his profile in your recently searched. You hand your phone over to Bradley and he places his beer down before swiping through the pictures. He outright cackles,

“This fuckin’ guy? He’s literally the size of one of my thighs.”

You look down at his muscular thighs where your legs are resting and suck in a deep breath. When you look back up Bradley’s showing you a post on his instagram where he’s awkwardly stood next to two beautiful girls clearly dressed in some type of festival outfits and clearly not friends with him. Bradley’s laughing so loudly you consider your neighbours complaining.

You pout at him, holding in your own laugh, “Don’t be mean! He’s kind of cute in his own right?”

“Sugar, how do you expect me to believe that when you don’t even believe it yourself?”

You hum at his explanation.

“Besides, I think I have a good grasp on what your type is.”

You raise you eyebrows at his statement, “Really? Enlighten me.”

Bradley quirks his upper lip, “Well first off you like big tall guys, maybe some would even describe them as hunky.”

You giggle as he continues.

“Brown hair, brown eyes, huge dick, killer moustache and absolutely hilarious. Am I missing anything?” He peers down at you, teasing smile on his face.

“What was that middle one again?” You cock your head to the side in faux innocence.

“Killer moustache?”

“Nope.”

“Brown eyes?”

“Not quite.”

“Ohhhh, huge dick?”

You giggle, “Yeah that was the one, I was wondering why you think that’s part of my specific type?”

Bradley grins, “Well, you seem to like every thing else about me.”

Your stomach burns with desire at his confidence and you have to quickly compose yourself to answer.

“Well since we don’t have any proof, I’m not sure I can hold you to that, handsome.”

You move your legs from his lap and tuck them under yourself, moving your front towards him until your breasts are pressed up against his bicep, lips hovering over his ear.

“Unless you’re willing to provide some?”

You meet Bradley’s lust filled gaze and he groans,

“Fuck.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, his strong hands threading through the hair at the back of your head. Bradley revels in the feeling of your soft lips against his, the taste of alcohol mixing between your mouths. You’re moaning into his mouth as his tongue licks into yours. His hand leaves the back of your head in favour of gripping at your waist and pulling you over onto his lap. Bradley’s thighs are firm beneath you, as you roll your crotch down into his you get evidence of his claim and whimper into his kiss. He pulls back to smile smugly at you,

“You okay there, gorgeous?”

His cocky tone only proves as fuel for the slick accumulating between your thighs and you whine as you grind down onto his hard cock, straining against his dark jeans.

“I’d be better if you fucked me.” You whimper out.

Bradley chuckles, playing with the hem of your dress,

“Is that what you want, sugar?”

You aid him in pulling of your dress, once it’s flung on the floor you speak up,

“Right now? More than anything.”

Bradley is biting his lip, eyes trained on your breasts as he reaches out to grab at them.

“Shit I can’t blame that guy, you’ve got great tits.”

Your roll your eyes at him and prepare a quip, but all thought are wiped from your mind as he reaches down and swipes his tongue across your pebbled nipple. Instead, you moan out his name breathily with another roll of your hips.

“Bradley, please.”

He pulls back and looks up at you, “What do you need, sugar?”

“You, Bradley.” You whine, nimble fingers already unbuttoning his shirt.

Once you’ve finished with his shirt, you help him slide it from his shoulders and where it sits tight around his biceps. As you suspected, he’s just as muscular under his shirt. You reach down to suck at the skin of his chest, marking his pecs.

“You’ve got great tits too, Brad.”

He grants you with a laugh which turns into a moan as your small hands begin to palm at his cock. Your touch is momentarily stopped as you help him remove his jeans and boxers. You’re sat before him staring with your mouth slightly agape at his sheer size.

“Jesus,” You murmur, hand reaching out to stroke him slowly.

Bradley wants to gloat but your touch feels so good that he doesn’t want to risk you leaving him high and dry. He watches in awe as you reach forward to spit on the tip of his cock, using your saliva as lubricant as you speed up your strokes. Once you begin to lightly circle his tip with your tongue he pulls you back up with a whimper,

“Sugar, if you carry on i’m going to cum.”

You smile coyly, “Isn’t that the whole point?”

Bradley reaches a hand down to pull at your lacy underwear. Once he’s removed it he cups your pussy, the feeling of his large, warm hand making you shiver in excitement.

“I was kind of hoping to be inside of you before doing that.”

You grind down into his hand as he speaks, finger tips grazing at your clit deliciously.

“Well don’t let me ruin your plans.”

Bradley’s eyes roll back slightly at your words and he pulls away his hand to lick at the juices you left. He hums down at you,

“Delicious.”

You whine and turn your back to him, lying into the couch and arching your back up so that your ass is pressing against his hard cock. You wiggle your ass back against him and feel some of his precum seep out onto you.

“You gonna fuck me now?” You simper at him, turning your head slightly and giving him your best doe eyes.

He reaches a hand out to stroke at your flushed cheek, “How could I say no to this pretty face?”

You keen under his praise and squeal as you feel him guiding his cock through your folds, collecting your wetness onto himself. Bradley groans at the feeling as he begins to push into your hole, the way your velvety walls are squeezing him is almost addictive.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he finally bottoms out after what feels like hours of him pushing his considerate length in. You feel so fucking full with him pushed all the way into you.

“You good, gorgeous?” Bradley asks, care in his voice evident.

You moan and push back against him, “Shit yeah, you feel so good, so deep.”

Bradley feels a whine catch in his throat at your words and tentatively thrusts into you. When he’s met with a high pitched moan he takes that as a sign to start moving.

Bradley’s thrusts are deep, making you whimper with each one. Managing to make you feel even more full than before. He has both hands placed at your waist, strong grip almost intoxicating.

The sound of slapping skin and your combined moans fill up the space of your apartment as Bradley keeps up his pace. You’re beginning to drool slightly onto your couch as Bradley lifts your body up so that your back is pressed against his chest. His strength is so attractive to you that you can’t help but let a strangled moan fall from your mouth. He smirks at the sound and reaches one of his hands on your waist down to toy with your clit. The action makes your jolt as your pleasure suddenly intensifies. You turn your head and whimper into his neck,

“Fuck, Brad please.”

Bradley’s starting to think your moans are the best thing he’s ever heard. He only increases his ministrations, spurred on by your whimpers, close to making the sound himself as your walls clench around him. Bradley increases the pace of his thrusts quickly, determined to push you over the edge. It’s working faster than you would have liked and you would have felt embarrassed was it not for the way he also increases the pressure on your clit, making you twitch and squeak out, “Bradley! Oh my God!”

You can feel him chuckle breathlessly into your shoulder, his breath on your hot skin making the coil growing in your stomach tight. With one last quick thrust the coil snaps and you’re moaning unabashedly as you spasm on his cock. Your moans are music to Bradley’s ears and the feeling of your pulsing walls pushes Bradley to his precipice.

He pulls out quickly and flips you over so he can look at your gorgeous blissed out face as he cums. It spurts out in thick ropes onto your belly and Bradley groans deeply at the sight, growling as you reach down with a few fingers to swirl it around and lift it back up to your lips.

He’s still heaving whilst looking down at you. The sight of his sweaty chest dropping up and down enough to make you squeeze your legs as another flood of arousal leaks from you. He catches sight of the action and smirks, but chooses not to taunt you any further.

He finally speaks up, “Was that good enough proof for you gorgeous?”

You giggle up at him, hair splayed around your head, reminding Bradley of and angel.

“Maybe I need some more?”

You widen your legs for him to look down at your pussy, arousal dripping from you. He whines albeit somewhat pathetically.

“Yeah I think so too.”

When Bradley wakes in the morning, his arm is draped around your naked waist. He smiles down at the sight and picks up his phone to text Phoenix a quick thanks for sending him on that date.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: sorry guys i’m on my big dick bradley agenda rn !!!

i love this so i hope everyone else does too HAHEJA

also apologies for the filth i literally cant help myself

pls comment, reblog or send me an ask and tell me what u think !!!

thank u for reading :))

- honey <333

[nectardaddy]

IMPORTANT!!!

monday, september 30, will be a day to remember. . . it will haunt everyone for the rest of their lives. should anyone have a vendetta against you. . .your days may be numbered.

RULE #1 :

remember to think of the life you had. don't go insane.

RULE #2

don't start fires without permission! if you burn the whole area we'll have nothing, dumbass!

RULE #3

don't go hunting alone. this is a strange place that makes people go insane if they're alone.

RULE #4

if you see a beast, kill it.

RULE #5

there are no polls, you may only send an ask. if others see the majority, it may swing their own free will. check your options carefully and read them again. ask a friend for assistance if you can't decide. pick what's best for the group, and not just for you. you can't be selfish on a deserted island.

RULE #6

votes must be submitted by the next upcoming friday. first vote will be taken count on saturday, october 4.

RULE #7

try to make the most of it. and watch your back.

-> series inspired by @eggyrocks ' summer slasher event

taglist (open, send an ask)

@wyrcan @causenessus @aozui @eggyrocks @sandwhitches

@phoenix-eclipses @soulfullystarry

[ofvixensandwolves]

[ coffee ]  -  your  muse  brings  mine  a  mug  of  fresh  coffee. + reverse – @mythsonly (Jodie)

Aurélia’s reputation as a hardcore sleeper precedes her. Everyone on the team now knows that she can fall asleep anywhere. And that’s probably not an exaggeration. Thank God for coffee, which everyone has also realized Aurélia has a fondness for. So much so, that coffee is now always ready when the team comes in for early morning practices. So, when the young woman walks into the locker room, it’s with a coffee cup in her hand. As she reaches her locker, she’s about to take a sip, but her eyes take note of her teammate nearby. Sympathy washes over her at the sight of her exhausted teammate. She reaches out with the cup. “You look like you need this more than me.” She can always get another coffee.

[mythologyofblue]

In order to rise

From its own ashes

A phoenix

First

Must

Burn.

-Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Talents, 1998

[arkhein-steorra]

@galactia​ asked ❝ you seemed troubled in your sleep, even for you. nightmares? ❞  (I imagined Kaeya and 'Luc both helping the Traveler with something, so they end up in the same space, but whatever strikes your fancy. From kaeya!)

god of war: ragnarok starters || Status: Accepting

He hadn’t gotten nightmares in a long time. Not since the first year after his father’s death, he wasn’t entirely sure what triggered it this time but he didn’t want to think to much about it because even after all this time his kind of vulnerability was something he which much rather process alone if he had to.

“Don’t worry yourself about it.” Diluc snorted back.

He peered towards the side to find the Traveler and Paimon still fast asleep. And since he was fully aware that they both fell asleep long before he did then it meant that it was only Kaeya that knew he had a nightmare in the first place.

Looking at the man he once called brother from across the fire he wanted to throw an insult Kaeya’s way but nothing felt worth the trouble that would come from insulting Kaeya so early into their journey.

“Since I’m wide awake I’ll finish your portion of the night watch. Go to sleep.”

[george-weasleys-girl]

Heyyy!

I love your writing so much! Can you please write something with the enemies to lovers trope with George? Like, set in the Order Of The Phoenix where George gets detention with Umbridge and the reader comforts him?

Thanks :)

Thank you so much, lovely! I hope you like it!

From Thorns to Flowers

George Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: a couple of curse words, mention of injury/blood

George stomped out of Umbridge's office and rolled his eyes. Just as he closed the door behind him, Y/N turned the corner and was headed straight in his direction.

Well, this is just fucking great. Of course, it would be his luck that he'd run into her after spending two hours having "I must not be rude" carved into the back of his hand.

He weighed his options. He could high-tail it in the opposite direction, but that would add an extra fifteen minutes through the pouring rain to his walk. Or he could keep going and hope she ignored him. A highly unlikely prospect given that Y/N never gave up a chance to gloat at his misfortune.

After a moment, he sighed and continued on. Sometimes, the only choices you have are shitty ones, but you still have to choose. Picking up his pace, George huddled close to the wall, hoping to blend in with the scenery.

"George?"

Dammit.

"Look, I don't have time to - " He began.

"You ok?" She interrupted, stepping closer.

George froze, staring first at her, then down at his wounded hand that still trickled blood.

Am I hallucinating from the pain?

"George? Are you ok?" She repeated.

"I - I, um, yeah," he sputtered and attempted to push past her.

"Can I see?" She asked, holding out her hand.

George whirled around. "No, you can't!" He snapped. "I'm not in the mood for your - "

"I just want to help!" she snapped back. "If I can..." Her voice grew soft, and she held up a jar of healing salve. "Julia told me what you did. Taking the fall for Thomas."

"Oh, um, that... yeah," George shuffled in place. "Yeah, I did that."

Thomas was a second year Hufflepuff who made the mistake of calling Umbridge a "stupid bitch" a little too loudly. So, rather than condemning poor kid to a torturous evening with the abominable pink toad, George took blame.

And now here he stood, in front of his arch enemy, as she held out her hand to him.

Y/N nodded. "That was really cool, you know."

The corner of George’s mouth quirked up briefly. "Uh, yeah, thanks." He placed his hand in Y/N's.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh geez, George, those cuts are really deep," she leaned forward to examine his wound closer. "Can I put some salve on it? It'll help with the pain."

"Yeah, ok," he nodded. "But can we do this somewhere else?" He inclined his head toward Umbridge's office.

"Oh, right! Of course. Silly me." George watched the rosy blush rise up in her cheeks and wondered how he never noticed how pretty she was before now.

~•~

You could've heard a pin drop the moment they walked into Gryffindor Tower together. George couldn't quite believe it himself. Not since the unfortunate pranking mishap five years ago had Y/N looked at George with anything less than pure loathing.

Not that he could blame her, really. The whole sordid incident set her cloak on fire, leaving her with several burns and a failing grade on an exam she would've otherwise aced.

George watched her carefully wrap the gauze around his hand. "You're the last person I would've expected to be bandaging up my hand."

Y/N shrugged. "Consider it a peace offering."

"Why?"

"Why?" She repeated, eyebrows creasing together. "What do you mean why?"

"I thought you hated me?"

"Hated you?" Y/N sat back. "No. I don't hate you. Not anymore anyway."

"Oh, ok. Well, um, not to sound like a three year old," George said. "But why not?"

"You were a stupid twelve year old when you blew up my cauldron. But you've grown up. You've changed. You actually think before you act... well, most of the time, anyway," Y/N paused and grinned. "And more importantly, you think about someone other than yourself and Fred."

"Like taking the blame for Thomas?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Among other things."

"So, you've been watching me, huh?" George teased.

"Of course," she crossed her arms. "I had to keep a close eye on you. Make sure you didn't set me on fire again."

"Um..." George rubbed the back of his neck, and a nervous laugh escaped his lips. "Yeah, um, sorry about that."

Y/N shrugged again. "I was more scared than hurt. And pissed. Really, really pissed. I'd studied for that stupid exam for weeks."

"Snape should've never failed you," George said. "It wasn't your fault."

"True. But you and I both know he doesn't give a shit. Tormenting students is his favorite pastime."

George chuckled. "Probably keeps a list of all his favorite child torturing moments and goes back through them to cheer himself up when he's depressed."

Y/N giggled at the thought, "That's peak Snape. Probably gets together with Umbridge - " she began, but stopped when she noticed Fred and Lee sitting in the far corner of the room staring at them. "I - uh - I should probably go."

"What? Why?" George turned briefly to see what caught her attention. "Oh, them? Pay no attention to them."

"It's kinda hard not to when they're boring holes into my brain."

The younger twin turned back around and mouthed something to Fred, bringing a smirk to his brother's face. George rolled his eyes and shifted to look at Y/N again, who was already rising to go.

"It's getting late anyway, and I've got an early morning. Guess I'll see you arou - "

"Would you like to go with me to Hogsmede on Saturday?" The words tumbled out of George’s mouth, freezing in the air between them. "I mean, as, you know, friends. I think we're friends now - "

"Ok."

"Ok? Like ok we're friends or ok we're going to Hogsmede?"

"Yes."

"Yes? T - to both? Or - "

Y/N grinned. "Yes to both."

"Yes, to both! Great!" George returned her grin. "Hogsmede on Saturday it is, then."

~•~

Y/N had barely slept the past three nights. She wasn't lying when she said she'd kept a close eye on George. She certainly had. But as the years passed, it shifted from an act of self-preservation to one of fascination as he slowly matured from the impetuous class clown into the thoughtful, compassionate person he was today. And somewhere along the way, she developed feelings for the freckled red-head. She wouldn't call it love. Admiration, perhaps. Or a kindly affection.

Whatever it was, in recent months, she found herself thinking of him more often and in a more positive light. It was also the reason she decided to lay down her arms and extend the olive branch.

But now, as she tossed and turned for the third night in a row, she began to wonder if something more might've been growing in the hidden corners of her heart.

~•~

"Why am I so nervous?" George muttered to himself as he changed his shirt for the fourth time. Ever since that evening three nights ago, Y/N had been running circles in his mind. He was tempted to ask her if she'd been exhausted the last couple of days but decided that might come off as a little weird.

And weird was the last thing he wanted to be.

Because for some strange reason he couldn't possibly fathom, he wanted to give her the best of himself. In just a few short hours, something had changed between them. And in changing, it changed the way he saw her. Beautiful in a way that went beyond the mere physical. It was as if her very presence lit up like a beacon, calling him to her.

It both terrified and exhilarated him. And he knew he couldn't fuck this up.

~•~

"This is galium ordoratum or sweet woodruff. Made into a tea, it's good for insomina. And the same with this one. Valeriana officinalis," Y/N pointed out another flower.

After a day weaving their way through the overcrowded shops at Hogsmede, they'd decided to make their way back to the castle through the neighboring fields and forest. Along the way, she began pointing out herbs and plants and what they were used for in the muggle world.

"How do you know all this?" George asked. "These aren't usually the sorts of plants Professor Sprout teaches in Herbology."

"My mom's an herbalist. A muggle one."

"Really? That's so cool!" George smiled. "I didn't know muggles used herbs and flowers for healing, too.

"Yeah, she thinks I could blend magical and muggle herbal knowledge and come up with some really amazing stuff."

"I agree," he smiled. "So you're going to become a Herbologist?"

"That's the plan," she grinned.

George nodded and noticed a cluster of flowers in the bright sunlight. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's Achillea millefolium. It's really good to help stop bleeding."

"And those?" He pointed at a small grouping of purple flowers.

"Digitalis purpurea. Foxglove. It's highly toxic, but in the right doses, it can help with some heart conditions."

"Oh wow... What about that one?"

"Hypericum perforatum."

"Hypericum perforatum," he repeated.

Something in George’s voice had changed. It'd grown softer and a little breathless, causing her to stumble over her words. "A - and this one is.... is... feverfew. I can't remember the scientific name. It's... um... it's good for fevers."

"Feverfew," he whispered. "Good for fevers."

She moved her hand to touch another flower. "Dead nettle. Lamium purpureum. It's ok to touch it. It won't sting."

"Lamium purpureum," he repeated, his voice almost a caress now.

"This little one is ....." Y/N breathed, reaching for another flower. Her hand brushed against his, and she realized why she was so nervous.

George wasn't looking at any of the flowers she was naming. He was looking at her.

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the world stopped turning. Neither of them would remember the seconds before they kissed, but that first kiss would be burned into their memories forever. It was soft and sweet and a little hesitant at first, then, growing bolder and deeper until the only thing they knew was each other.

"Does this mean we're officially not enemies anymore?" George asked after a few minutes.

"I think it means so much more than just that," Y/N smiled, reaching out to caress his cheek.

George smiled from ear to ear. "So, um, does that mean I can kiss you again?"

"Anytime. Anyplace," she mummered, pulling him back to her.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe

@drama-queen-fromthevault @smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw @moonatician @sierraluvzz @min-aaa @now-that-we-dontalk @LilliSummers

[the-bi-library]

Bisexual books coming out in 2024!

Let me know of the books I didn't include!

Here is the goodreads list link. You can add books to this too!

Books listed:

Dear Bi Men: A Black Man's Perspective on Power, Consent, Breaking Down Binaries, and Combating Erasure by J.R. Yussuf

Breaker of Fates by Vaela Denarr, Micah Iannandrea

Fake Dating a Witch: A Magical Summer Solstice Romance by Brigid Hunt

The End Crowns All by Bea Fitzgerald

Rupture in Total Eclipse by Sem Thornwood

The 7-10 Split by Karmen Lee

Every Time You Hear That Song by Jenna Voris

Not for the Faint of Heart by Lex Croucher

Better Left Buried by Mary E. Roach

Rani Choudhury Must Die by Adiba Jaigirdar

The Afterdark by E. Latimer

Truthfully, Yours by Caden Armstrong

The Only Light Left Burning by Erik J. Brown Don't Be a Drag by Skye Quinlan

Digging for Destiny by Jenna Jarvis

Exes & Foes by Amanda Woody

Under All the Lights by Maya Ameyaw

Off With Their Heads by Zoe Hana Mikuta

An Education in Malice by S.T. Gibson

The Pairing by Casey McQuiston

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

Lavash at First Sight by Taleen Voskuni

Court of Wanderers by Rin Chupeco

The Loudest Silence by Sydney Langford

Practical Rules for Cursed Witches by Kayla Cottingham

The Sins on Their Bones by Laura R. Samotin

Mewing by Chloe Spencer

London On My Mind by Clara Alves, Nina Perrotta

What Is Love? by Jen Comfort

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

Hearts Still Beating by Brooke Archer

The Phoenix Keeper by S.A. MacLean

Road to Ruin by Hana Lee

Rise by Freya Finch

The Dark We Know by Wen-yi Lee

Truly, Madly, Deeply by Alexandria Bellefleur

Honeybloods by I.S. Belle

The Girl in Question by Tess Sharpe

Saints of Storm and Sorrow by Gabriella Buba

The Phoenix Bride by Natasha Siegel

The Poisons We Drink by Bethany Baptiste

The Perfect Guy Doesn't Exist by Sophie Gonzales

One Killer Problem by Justine Pucella Winans

Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao

Lulu Sinagtala and the City of Noble Warriors by Gail D. Villanueva

Redsight by Meredith Mooring

Finally Fitz by Marisa Kanter

The Last Love Song by Kalie Holford

Trouble by Lex Croucher

Playing For Keeps by Jennifer Dugan

Something To Be Proud Of by Anna Zoe Quirke

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 10

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, ANGST, violence, nightmares, mentions of PTSD, mentions of child abuse, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, smutty (smut-ish?) (horny thoughts, idk), mentions of drinking, Rooster being ok for once. (Let me know if I missed any, there's just a lot going on in this one)

Word Count: 13.5k (IM SO SORRY)

Summary: You're facing the consequences after Phoenix's party, knowing what you want isn't fair to you or Bob. After a bit of a setback, you go back to work more than ready to prove to yourself you are part of the squad for a reason. And it doesn't take long for you and Bob to realize avoiding each other isn't the right way to go about things.

A/N: An extra long part, just for you lovely bunch. I just want to personally thank each and everyone of you for sticking around! I am so sorry this took literally two months to get out, but ya girl was going through it man. I wrote and re-wrote this part so many times and I hope you all like it. Again, I love to hear what y'all think!

I should also mention I was listening to TTPD on repeat while writing, so do with that what you will.

Masterlist

Despite the cool temperature seeping through the night air, your skin is unbelievably hot. From your head down to your toes you are burning up. Right as you think you have it under control and can go back inside to the party you’re reminded about what happened moments ago and the cycle starts from the beginning. Your tongue runs over your lips as you attempt to get your breathing under control again, but the taste of Bob lingers. What did you just do?

Bob is doing all he can right now. Which is simply sitting behind the steering wheel of his truck, staring at the dashboard with his heart in his throat. He just kissed you. Well technically, you kissed him first, but the second one… He started that one. Right after he told you what he promised himself he never would.

His forehead falls to the stitching of the leather wheel as he lets out a breath. It was like you appeared from his thoughts when you followed him out the back door. It took everything in him not to look at you because he knew if he did, he would have ended up telling you exactly what he did. And then you apologized. On behalf of some woman he wasn’t interested in, who was kinda mean to him. The embarrassment of his supposed “date” for the night making out with Rooster was shortly overthrown by your hands on his face, tugging him into what he would call the best part of his night, no- year- lifetime? Ugh. He takes his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You’ve got him all messed up. Either way, it wasn’t a dream this time, and you told him you wanted to kiss him. You’re the one that initiated it! That must mean something, right?

He keeps running over what happened, trying to figure out where to pick up from where you two were interrupted. Ok, first he confesses his feelings, two, you kiss him. YOU kissed HIM. And you told him you wanted to, which is why three: he kissed you. Oh god, he kissed you, held you, and everything about it was… perfect. Your lips were so soft against his, you smelled like flowers and tasted like his favorite soda. But then, before you could do or say anything else, the back door was opening, and now he finds himself behind his steering wheel. Oh god, did he really just leave you there?

Placing his glasses back on his face, Bob stares out the window of his truck at Phoenix’s house. You were probably still out in the backyard, or maybe you went back inside after he abandoned you. Either way, there’s no way he can walk back inside and act like everything is normal. Not now, maybe not ever. His hand falls to his key in the ignition, and as slow as he can, he turns it, roaring the truck to life. Before he gets too far down the street, Bob takes one last look in his rearview mirror, the glow from the house getting dimmer the farther he drives away.

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

It’s not long after you’re able to collect yourself to your utmost ability that you quietly creep back into the kitchen. The party is still in full swing in the living room, and Phoenix catches your eye as you head toward the front door without anyone else noticing. She slips away from Rachel for a quick second, heading in your direction.

“Are you heading out?”

“Yeah”, you reply apologetically. “Thanks for having me over.” Her eyes roam over your face, as yours dart toward your feet, hoping she won’t notice something’s off.

“Ok…”, she lets you go, “Thanks for coming over, it means a lot to us.” Her face gives you a shy smile, something you don’t see her sport a lot. It makes you forget about your own dealings for a moment and remember why you came over in the first place.

“I was happy to. Rachel’s a keeper.” 

“Oh don’t start getting all sappy with me”, she teases as she gently hits your shoulder. You’re halfway across the lawn when she calls out to you one last time. “And Mantis?”

“Yeah?”, you ask, turning toward her voice.

“If you see Bob will you just tell him I need to talk to him?” Your mouth goes dry, and you force a small smile to your face.

“Uh-huh”, it comes out a little more squeaky than you hoped, but she understands you nonetheless. She closes the door and you turn back to your car, face heating up once again.

Somehow you managed to drive home, AC on blast, trying to cool yourself down. Flashes of Bob’s rough hands being so gentle with you alight your senses, giving you butterflies. You can practically feel his lips on yours, the way he gripped your waist, ran his hand up your back, has you closing your eyes, somehow hoping you’d be able to feel it all again. You can’t help it as you walk to the front door, but the feeling of his lips chasing your own has your mouth shifting into the smallest smile. Everything is right with the world as you reminisce, but you know from experience that good things never last.

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

Your mind is hazy as Bob’s lips move in sync with your own. It’s comfortably warm as his hands trail down your sides, your own moving up into his hair. He stops, just for a second, and you’re able to look around at your surroundings. It’s your room, but it’s not yours. It’s the room in your mom’s house back in Ohio. It looks the same way it did the day you started packing. Like it’s been perfectly preserved in time. Only, Bob is here, and there’s a mysterious haze surrounding the two of you. That panicky feeling starts to rise as you notice each and every detail your mind had stored away long ago, you didn’t even remember how many picture frames you had on your dresser until this very moment. All four of them sit in their exact spots, each depicting a moment with your dad, Carole or Bradley.

Bob’s mouth makes its way back to your own, and you forget about where you are, allowing yourself to get lost in this dream. Each moment spent not focusing on Bob paints a clearer vision of the place you spent a majority of your life wishing you could escape. But right now, all you want to do is stay. Your feet lead the way to your twin bed, pushing Bob onto the pink covers as you straddle his lap. You so desperately need to know how it feels to have him in this position, but your mind, only knowing what it feels like to kiss him won’t allow you to fulfill your fantasy. You push harder, needing to feel him all over. He starts dragging his lips down your neck as you grip the back of his neck, trying as hard as you can to hold on to him in the only place you know you can. Where there isn’t an outside world telling you it’s against some rule to feel the way you do.

A car door slams shut, disrupting your flow. Your blood runs cold as you freeze in his hold. Your heart thrums in your chest as you sit quietly in his lap, waiting for the following sound of the front door. He continues to kiss up your neck, distracting you as you sit and wait. You flinch as the front door is forcefully closed. You’re vaguely aware of the ghosting of Bob’s hands, his lips, but you wince with each clack of a heel up the wood paneling of the stairs.

You know it’s not real. You know it deep down. But the sound is uncanny as the click of heels gets closer to your room, and now you can barely feel Bob anymore. As if this dream version of him can sense what you’re thinking, he turns your head as you collide your lips together. You can’t hear anything, feel anything other than Bob, and the recent memory of what it felt like to kiss him. The rest of the room is slowly wiped away as you and Bob part, choosing to just hold him instead. You can almost make out the beating of his own heart, as if he were real. The dresser, like a fog, slowly drifts away, the frames on it, the few posters on your wall, your desk. It’s as if you were never teleported back here in the first place.

Moving your head, you take a glance at Bob. You’re still perched in his lap as he gives you a gentle smile. A peaceness falls over you and this hazy version of him. You move to touch the freckle at the base of his hairline, only to feel nothing. That’s something you wish you could have done before now, so you could do it a million more times. You see his head move to kiss your wrist, but feel a breeze where his lips meet your skin. Leaning down, you softly connect your lips with his, at least you know what that feels like. But that only means you will torture yourself with the memory. It does its job now to soothe you into a calm state. For a few brief moments.

The doorknob twists as a large wind sweeps through the room, knocking the door into the wall. Your heart leaps out of your chest as your mother stands in the doorway, smoke practically fuming from her ears.

“YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!”, she screams. Your hands attempt to grasp on to Bob for dear life, but as you look down you’re only holding air. Bob is nowhere to be found. You squeeze your eyes as hard as you can, bringing your hands up to your face in an attempt to wake yourself. Rubbing as hard as you can so hopefully once you open them she’ll be gone. The all too familiar feeling of sharp nails and the pressure of your mother’s hands wrap around your wrists, forcing you to look into her borderline black eyes. You’re paralyzed in fear, shaking in her grasp as she squeezes tighter and tighter.

“DO YOU EVEN HEAR ME?”, she screams, tacking your name on at the end. First and middle, cursing a pang through your nervous system. A response you thought you had rid yourself of until this very moment. A hand moves to squeeze your cheeks together, stopping you if you even had the guts to say anything. It hurts. It hurts like it did when you were seven, when you were seventeen, and that’s what scares you the most. If this is still a dream, how can it hurt so much?

“YOU NEVER THINK!”, she screams in your face as you try to lean away. Her breath is the same, spearmint gum with an undertone of whatever wine she got into this time. You feel so weak in her hold as she pulls you closer. In a split second the pain from her grip is gone until her palm cracks against your cheek. Hard enough to have you falling off your bed. The palms of your hands tingle as you fall, and it feels like an eternity until your back hits the hardwood flooring.

You awake with a gasp, then a groan as you blink your eyes open. There’s the soft glow from the morning sun streaming through the blinds of your window. Your heart feels as if it’s about to beat out of your chest, it’s hitting your ribcage so hard. The glow falls on your dresser, the one from IKEA your dad insisted on getting you when he started renting the house. The house. The home your dad made in North Island. You look for the picture frames on top, there’s the ones of you and your dad, and Carole, but none of Bradley. You’re home, you’re safe.

Your head falls to the cool wood of your bedroom floor, the sweat oozing from your pores causing your skin to stick to the material. Your back and shoulder are a little sore, probably from falling off your bed, but your wrists and face feel fine. Even so, you lift a shaky hand, eyeing any possible bruising. Nothing. Just the faint green from the fading bruise on your knuckles. You kick the blanket twisted around your legs, rubbing your eyes to avoid tripping to the bathroom. There you turn the faucet on, running your hands under the cold water then splashing some on your face. An attempt to ground you in reality as you stare back in the mirror. Only, you can’t see yourself. You can only see every defining feature that reminds you and everyone else of the monster from your nightmare.

The blood rushes to your ears as your fear makes way for anger. It eats you up, taking over your senses the longer you stare. The face of a person who doesn’t care if you live or die stares back. Throwing down the towel you were using to dry your hands, and clad in your pajamas, you race down the stairs. You barely register your dad asking what that noise was, but you don’t stop, set on making it to the front door. You didn’t even bother putting on shoes, not like it matters, as you start walking. Where to, you don’t know. You just need to feel something real. Know there’s life outside of your head. Away from her.

“Where are you going?”, your dad asks from the front door, you’re a house down when from the lawn he yells your name. And even though it’s coming from your dad, you still flinch, making you all the more mad. He’s taken aback as you turn on your heel.

“I’m going for a fucking walk! Is that ok with you?”, you yell back. He stands there nothing short of aghast as you clench your fists at your side.

“Where the hell did that come from? Are you ok?”, he asks as he holds his hands up in surrender, trying not to set you off anymore than you already are.

“I’m fine”, you spit. The recoil on his face coupled with the worried look has you feeling the tiniest bit remorseful. “I’m sorry, I just- I need to be alone right now.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I just wanna know when you’re planning on being back.”

“I don’t know, just give me a minute.”

“You’re just gonna walk around barefoot then?”

“I don’t fucking know”, you huff. “I’ll be back. You don’t need to worry about me.” Without sparing him another glance you start walking. Your dad sighs and curses under his breath as he watches you storm off in one of his old t-shirts and your plaid pajama shorts.

You do as you say. Walk. That is until a flash from your dream causes a tremor in your hands you’re doing your very best to ignore. The image of her standing in front of you, in your mirror has you shaking in anger, and that’s when you start running. Where to, you don’t know. You just need to get away for one goddamn second. The slam of your bare feet against the cement hurts in the best way, letting you know this is real. It’s not some nightmare you can’t escape from. 

It’s not fair. The way she haunts you, ruins every good thing you get your hands on. You curse the fact that ever since you were little people were always telling you how much you looked like your mother. She lingers in the mirror every time you try to look at yourself. It makes you wonder if she sees you whenever she catches sight of herself. Then again, you always thought one of the reasons she despised you so much was because you reminded her of your father. A constant reminder of her biggest mistake in life.

The only real way you know time has passed is the way the sun rises slightly higher in the sky. You haven’t stopped running since you started, and it isn’t until the feel of sand beneath your bare feet slows you down. Your calves are burning as you trudge your way across the warm grains. It gets colder as you get closer to the water, and once the salty waves lap at your feet you stop.

Quickly realizing how out of breath you are, you back up and fall into the warmer sand. Your hyperventilating moves into gasping breaths as your chest heaves. You glance up to the light blue sky, then down to the deep blue of the Pacific. You’re reminded of Bob’s gentle eyes, and his kind smile. You allow yourself to get angry again. Just for a little bit. He left you last night. After saying those wonderful things about you, and then granting you a moment you won’t be able to forget in this lifetime. And again, in your dream. He left. Just like everyone does. Not that he had a choice. You can’t be selfish and expect him to stay when you know it’s a risk for the both of you. You hang your head, placing it in between your knees as you hug them closer to yourself. It’s just not fair.

You could ask yourself why. Why after almost 11 years of not seeing your mother, why she still haunts your nightmares. But you know. You were doing something you shouldn’t have. Every time you misstepped, misspoke, she was there to punish you. And even now that she’s not a part of your life, she will always exist in that little part of your brain that punishes yourself. Maybe the two of you aren’t as different as you like to think.

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

After a restless night, much to the chagrin of Sylvia, who ultimately decided to sleep on the floor rather than next to the twisting and turning of her dad, Bob checks his phone. There’s a couple texts from Phoenix asking him to call her, one from Fanboy confirming their movie night later in the week, but nothing from you. To be fair, he was the one who ran away in the first place, but every time he picked up his phone to draft a text to you, it seemed all wrong. What could he say through a text that could convey how he felt, or how much he wanted to talk to you again? Tossing his phone to the pillow next to his own, he huffs out a breath, running a hand over his face. Everything is just so confusing.

As he stares at the ceiling, his phone starts to buzz. He squints at the screen after reading the name, surely it can’t be. Grabbing his glasses and placing them on his face he double checks the caller I.D. So he had it right the first time, huh. Maverick’s contact name comes up as it continues to buzz, and Bob answers it with a shaky hand. There’s no way this was on purpose. The only reason he even had his number was so Maverick could coordinate everything for the initial beach day. And then he told everyone to keep his number for emergencies.

“Hello?”, Bob asks as he breaches the silence of his room.

“Bob, hey. It’s Maverick.” Ok, so he does know he called Bob.

“Hey, Mav. What’s up?”

“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s Mantis.” Bob swallows, trying to clear the frog in his throat at the mention of you.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. She ran out in a hurry this morning and she hasn’t been back since. I normally wouldn’t worry, but she left her phone and it’s already been a while. Listen- have you seen her at all?” Bob’s thoughts are running through his mind, wondering if you’re hurt somewhere.

“No sir”, not since you had your hands all over him last night. His face heats up at the thought, but immediately he refocuses his attention on worry, clearing his throat. “Not since last night. Have you checked with Phoenix?”

“Yeah, she hasn’t seen or heard from her either. I just thought that since the two of you are friends she might have said something. Did she seem ok last night? Or did anything happen?” Bob’s heart sinks as the thought that he might be the reason you’re gone moves to the forefront of his mind.

“Um- yeah she seemed fine last night.” Bob’s mind is reeling, you did seem ok. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, actually. But then again, maybe it’s not about him. “I can go out looking for her”, he rushes out.

“No, that’s ok. I think Phoenix is already doing that. Stay put, maybe she’ll show up at someone’s house”, he sighs. Bob can tell he sounds stressed. He can almost picture him standing on the front porch of your house, waiting for you to come back.

“Ok. Will you just uh- have someone let me know when you find her?”

“I will. Thanks Bob.”

“No problem, sir.”

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

The beach has gotten a little louder, a little hotter since you arrived. But all you’ve been doing is staring out at the waves. The cool breeze shifts loose hair around your face, the unruly locks that haven’t been taken care of after you woke up this morning. The weight of a hand on your shoulder takes you out of your trance as you quickly try to move out of the grasp.

“Get the fuck away from me!”, you yell. The hand retreats almost as fast as it landed, and squinting, you look up to identify the face.

“Whoa, easy there Hulk. It’s just me”, Natasha lets out as you readjust yourself in the sand to your previous position. Wordlessly she sits down next to you, making sure to keep a safe distance.

“Sorry”, you whisper so quietly you’re not even sure she heard it.

“It’s ok”, she responds softly. She lets the two of you sit in the silence, anticipating what you’re going to do next.

“How long have you been out here?” You shrug in a silent response. “What’s going on?”

Your mouth twitches as you stare at your feet. Shifting the sand in between your toes. “Nothing”, you lie. “I’m fine.” You hear her take a deep breath before she speaks again.

“Your dad called me, asked if I’d seen you at all.” Internally you scoff. You told him you’d be back, it’s like he won’t let you do anything now- “That was two hours ago”, she finishes her thought. Oh.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know.” You shake your head slightly. It had only felt like you’d been here for 10 minutes. How have you been here for longer than an hour? You don’t dare to look over, you know that the brown eyed gaze of your best friend is already looking you over in worry.

“It’s ok. Do you wanna head inside?” You squint at her words, confusion clouding your mind.

“Inside?”

“Yeah, just inside the-”, she stops mid sentence, redirecting her questioning, “Mantis, do you know where you are?” “I’m at the beach”, you respond flatly.

“Ok. Do you know which beach?” Swallowing, you look around for the first time since you arrived. There’s a lifeguard station with the number 6 on it just down to your right, and you can still hear the faint hum of cars from the road behind you. “That’s ok”, she lightly responds, deciding you do not actually know where you are. “Let’s go inside.”

She allows you to stand on your own, just knowing that you’d follow her. When you turn around, she directs the two of you to your right, and there it is. The Hard Deck. Somehow you had made it all the way from your home, down to the Hard Deck, without stopping. You fold your arms, keeping them close to you. Penny is already waiting at the back door, granting you a small smile as you walk up the couple steps to the bar. Phoenix stops you before you go in, placing a pair of sandals in front of you to step into. Huh, you didn’t even notice she was carrying those. It’s only after you step inside Penny’s sanctuary that you realize how bad your feet and legs hurt.

They sit you down at a table and slide you a glass of water. Neither moves to touch you, even as Penny sits down with you while Phoenix steps aside to call someone, presumably your father. You’re quiet as you stare at the grain of wood in the tabletop.

“Are you hungry, hun?”, she asks as you continue to stare at the table.“I can fix you something in the kitchen”, she offers as you glance up at her, giving a small shake of your head.

She sighs before starting again, “I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but when my dad started having flashbacks and nightmares, it really helped him to talk to someone. Got him an actual diagnosis which helped with treating it.” You furrow your brows as you cock your head slightly.

“Diagnosis for what?”

“PTSD”, she grimaces as she tries to cover it with a half smile. She probably thinks this is some work-related thing

“Oh- this isn’t, it’s not Navy-related”, you’re a little slow to correct. She sighs again and reaches her hand out for you before thinking better of it and placing it in her lap.

“Just because it doesn’t come from being in the Navy doesn’t mean it’s not real.” You clench your jaw and look away right as Phoenix finishes her phone call.

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

Nat drives you home in silence as you mull over Penny’s words. Was it really that obvious you had a nightmare? It just hadn’t happened in so long. You thought it wouldn’t come back. That she wouldn’t come back. She promised she wouldn’t be a part of your life, you guess that’s just her lingering charm that’s sticking around.

“What started it this time?”, she asks. You turn from staring out the passenger window and glance at her. The dream comes back to you in flashes, Bob’s hands on you, your lips over his, and then… You flinch slightly at the glimpse of her face in your head, the feeling of her grip.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, you respond lowly.

“OK”, she replies.

“How did you know where I was?”, you question as she spares you a look before turning back to the road.

“I was already out looking for you when your dad called and said Penny thought she saw you sitting on the beach. She wasn’t sure what you would do if she approached you, and I had to convince Mav not to book it down there himself.” You’re eternally grateful for Phoenix for knowing exactly what you needed in that moment.

“He’s just overreacting”, you try to shrug it off. She parks in front of your house, and you cringe at the blue Bronco in the driveway. So he really just called everyone, huh?

“Is he, Mantis?” She looks over to you, and you look down to your fingers for solace. Deciding you’re not up for a conversation you move on.

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I always will, you know that.” And you really do. Phoenix has been there more often than not to pick you up when you fall. She was the one person you could count on back at the Academy, and she’s been there for you ever since. Especially when you weren’t even sure you could trust your dad to let you stay in school. Even when she graduated two years before you and went on to flight school, she never kept out of touch.

She follows you up the steps to your door, and before you’re able to  step one foot into your house, your dad is pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. You’re a little uncomfortable, and you’re sure anyone can read it on your face.

“Dad”, you wheeze, “Dad I’m fine.” He moves as you push him away, only to hold onto your upper arms.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”, he raises his voice, causing you to flinch. “Do you know how worried I was?” You didn’t actually see him before now, but Rooster is grabbing his arm, urging him to let you go.

“I’m sorry. I just- I needed to get out for a second.”

“A second? A second- You were gone for hours. You didn’t have your phone with you, didn’t have any shoes, you’re still in your pajamas for Christ’s sake!” With every word he throws at you, your brow furrows and your lip trembles a little more.

“Mav”, Rooster starts as he grabs your dad’s attention, “Ease up, man. You’re scaring her.” And even though he might be a little bit right, just the sound of his voice irritates you to no end. Him and his stupid Hawaiian shirt. A switch is flipped and you’re back to being angry again.

“No one fucking asked you Rooster. Why the hell are you even here?” He blinks at your sudden change, and shakes his head, trying to find an answer.

“Hey!”, your dad exclaims as he turns back to you with wide eyes. “He came over here because I was worried. I didn’t know if you went to someone else’s house, or were kidnapped, or god forbid, were hit by a car or worse!”

“Well obviously I’m fine.”

“I know that now. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing for so long, or how you even ended up at the Hard Deck.”

“I told you I was going for a walk. And I don’t really think I need to explain myself to you.” You brush past the two of them without sparing a second glance, but you can hear your dad following after you.

“We are not done here!”, he yells up the stairs as you close the door to your room.

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

Bob is aimlessly walking around his kitchen as Sylvia stares on in confusion. They just got back from a run, and instead of resting like they usually do, he’s still pacing. He knows your dad told him to stay put, but if there was a chance that maybe he could find you while with Sylvia, he was gonna take it. He’s heard nothing from anyone since he first picked up the phone this morning, and that was hours ago. He’s starting to get really worried about you.

Deciding that walking around isn’t going to help anything, he decides to take a shower. He’s undressed, about to hop in when his phone starts ringing. He doesn’t even check who it is before he answers.

“Hello?”

“So you won’t answer my texts, but you’ll pick up a call? Good to know Floyd”, Phoenix’s voice echoes in his ear. He forgot all about them in the chaos of this morning.

“Is she ok?”, he immediately asks, ignoring her question. She sighs from the other end of the phone.

“She’s home and… she’s safe”, she utters as Bob takes a breath of relief.

“Is she ok though?”, he urges. She’s silent for a moment as he waits for an answer. “Phoenix?”

“It’s not that simple. She’s been through a lot.”

“She told me… about her mom.”

“She told you?”, Bob can tell by the shock in her voice you probably haven’t had the same kind of conversation with her. “She’s never actually said anything to me. Just that her mom wasn’t very nice. I kinda figured it out after we started rooming together and she’d wake up crying, just drenched in sweat. She wouldn’t let anyone touch her and- God I shouldn’t even be telling you this.” Bob hangs his head and nods as if she can see him. As much as he wants to know, he also knows that if you haven’t shared it with him yet it was probably for a reason.

“You’re probably right. Where- where did you find her though?”

“She made it all the way to the Hard Deck. Craziest thing is that she didn’t even know where she was.” Bob huffs out a breath and rubs his forehead. You seemed completely fine last night. And for some reason, he feels like he’s to blame. He didn’t stick around after to see if you were ok, or if you regretted any of it. God, he’s such a dick.

“Geez”, he breathes out.

“Yeah. Listen, just ignore my texts. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Bob’s grateful she’s thinking the same as him. What happened with Emily last night really doesn’t take precedent right now. He’s just so glad you’re home.

“Ok, see ya tomorrow.” And with that he ends the phone call. His shoulders slump as he turns the handle on the shower, the water runs as his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. Worried ones mostly.

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

The water is as hot as it can go as you wash the morning from you. Dirt from your feet makes the water murky as it swirls down the drain, the sweat from your nightmare and all the running is washed away as you clean yourself.

Stepping out, you quickly change into a clean set of clothes. Something comfortable, because you have a feeling you’re not going anywhere else today. Most likely back to bed to overthink your entire existence again. Taking your hair out of the towel, you move to wipe the fog off of the mirror, but you pause at the first swipe. Dark circles hang underneath your eyes, frame the face you wish didn’t belong to you

You’re tired. Your body, your mind, are all tired. You’re tired of trying to hold in your tears, of trying to be angry in order to cover up the fact that you are actually very scared of becoming the woman that you see in the mirror. Someone with the capability to ruin other people's lives. Falling to the floor with a thud, you allow yourself to cry. You barely hear the knock coming from your bathroom door, but you wipe your nose on your sleeve, and reach up to unlock the door. 

Your dad is immediately on his knees in front of you as you reach out to him. His arms wrap around you securely as you sob harder into his shoulder.

“It’s ok sweetheart. I’m here”, he reassures you. “You’re ok. Just let it out.” You start to cry even harder at his words. You were so mean to him earlier, and why? Because you were mad at your mom? At yourself?

“I’m sorry”, you manage to speak through broken cries.

“Shh, hey. It’s ok. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was just- so worried about you.” He rubs at the back of your head as you cry harder. He holds onto you a little tighter and you let him. It’s not suffocating or claustrophobic, it’s comforting. He’s somehow able to convey in his embrace that he’s not done fighting for you, that he’s sorry he ever let you down in the first place. “I got you”, he whispers as he kisses the top of your head.

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

You aren’t at work the next day. He should have expected it. After everything that happened he still hasn’t texted you. He wanted to reach out, but thought better of it. Knowing you, you might feel more embarrassed than anything if he brought attention to the fact that your dad called him. Even so, it feels… off. For the first time in weeks he doesn’t save a seat for you at lunch. And then out of the blue, as Phoenix sits down across from him, Rooster sets his lunch bag next to hers. He glances up with wide eyes as Rooster gives him a cordial smile

It’s quiet for a moment as the three of them dig into their food. As Bob reaches for a baby carrot, the table shakes. He moves to look up at Phoenix who is trying and failing to discreetly glare at Rooster. He can only assume the movement was her kicking him under the table. Rooster clears his throat, garnering Bob’s attention. He rubs his mouth before looking back at him.

“Listen, Bob, I’m really sorry about Saturday.” Oh this is where this is going.

“Oh, there’s no need to-”

“Yes”, Phoenix cuts in, “there is. Please continue, Rooster.” Rooster winces at her words, and ultimately turns back to Bob.

“Right. Um, turns out Emily thought she was being set up with me the entire time. Not you, which explains why- uh everything happened the way it did”, he chuckles awkwardly. “Anyway, so I’m sorry about that kind of wrecking your night.” Even though his glasses are sitting perfectly on his face, Bob pushes the bridge of his wire frames even further onto his nose as an excuse to distract himself from the awkwardness of this conversation.

“Listen, it’s fine. Really.”

“Bob”, Phoenix whines, “No it’s not. I’m sorry, too. Apparently I never even told her your name. Just that you were one of my friends, so she naturally assumed it was Rooster.” Emily was honestly the last thing on his mind since that night. It all seems so trivial since yesterday. He just wants to see you. Confirm with his own eyes that you’re alright. Right now it kind of feels like you fell off the face of the earth, even if he did see you two days ago. It was two days too long.

“Phoenix”, Bob levels, “It’s ok. I wasn’t putting too much pressure on anything working out anyway.” He starts to play with his food, kind of the same way you do whenever you’re uncomfortable. Just moving stuff around, never actually picking anything up to eat. He can’t help but have every thought wander back to you somehow. He wonders if you’ve maybe done the same thing about him, but he quickly rids himself of the thought. Why would you do that? Just because he overthinks and rethinks everything doesn’t mean you do, too.

Your hands are trembling as you open the car door and head into base. Not in a bad way. Not at all. You need to get in a jet. Need to feel some sort of control over anything in your life. In the air, that’s where you feel free. You have to be laser focused on what you are doing at all times, there is no voice in your head telling you to be better, or that you’re not good enough. If she had it her way you wouldn’t be there at all. The world of aviation is one where your mother’s voice is silent. She simply doesn’t exist. You’d like to keep it that way.

So yes, your hands are trembling. And you welcome it. It’s the incessant thumping of your heart against your rib cage as you get closer to the classroom that is bothering you. Bob. You haven’t seen or heard from him since Saturday. Since you kissed him. But this is a professional setting, one where under its rule you are not allowed to feel the way you do for him. Or him you, apparently. So, you’ll pretend for both your sakes that nothing happened. It’s the way it has to be. That way you can’t ruin his life. Can’t- won’t be like the one person you swear you would never end up like.

And then, right as you walk in the door, Bob’s eyes are on you. His cheeks pinken just the tiniest bit at the sight of you. But more than that, there’s a look of relief on his face. Before you can give him any kind of indication you notice him, his attention is being directed away by Fanboy. Deciding it’s best to let it slide, you walk past Nat on his other side, giving her a slight smile as she winks at you. And even though before the day even started you had decided to avoid looking at Bob, it is so damn hard as his profile sits right in front of you. Rooster’s still mandated to sit next to you, so his incessant breathing helps to distract you.

The rest of the day until lunch is entirely boring until you’re given your chance to get up in your jet. There’s the regular spiel from Maverick about which maneuvers you’re going to practice, and then there’s another storm warning. A so-called hurricane is supposed to sweep southern California over the weekend, so they’re trying to give everyone as much air-time as they can before it starts. Fine by you. You don’t even care that you’re paired with Hangman, that’s how badly you need to get back up there.

Settling into your seat, you take a deep breath in, and out. This is what you were made to do. There’s no other feeling quite like it in the world, and your hands tingle as you grab the yoke, just waiting for the all-go. The roar of the engine is so loud you can hardly hear your own thoughts. Just the way you like it. You twitch in anticipation before Hondo gives you the hand signal, waving you for take-off.

Before you know it, you’re back on the ground, and the next group is getting ready to go up. You stay close to your jet while Phoenix and Bob pass to get to theirs. You don’t notice his glance your way, but as you take a quick look he’s already climbing the ladder into his seat.

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

Bob isn’t exactly sure where the two of you stand at this moment. He knows that right now at work is not the best place to discuss any of it, but he also knows that he can’t go on pretending forever that Saturday night didn’t happen. And then there’s the fact that something happened on Sunday to set you off, so he decides he’ll just wait for you to approach him. He doesn’t want to add any more stress to your life, just glad you seem to be in better spirits. He still saves you a seat at lunch, but 10 minutes pass before he decides you’re not coming. Phoenix finally fills an empty seat across from him, and before he can ask where you are Fanboy takes the seat he is no longer saving for you.

“Ok”, Fanboy starts, “I’ve got all three Indiana Jones on blu-ray that I can bring over since those are the only ones that matter, you still ok to do it at your place?” Bob nods at the plans mindlessly, eyes staring down at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“You sure? Cause last time I was over your dog avoided me the whole time. She fucking hates, me dude.” Bob winces and holds back a small laugh.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just… shy.” He explains.

“It’s true”, Phoenix cuts in, “Although, the last time I saw her she finally let me pet her. It was amazing.” Bob smiles at her as he finally digs into his lunch. Sylvia had already taken a quicker liking to you than anyone else Bob has introduced her to. It’s kind of a shame she won’t be seeing you as often as he’d like anymore. And just as the thought of you pops into his head, he spots you walking over to another table. Damn it.

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

As much as you like talking to your dad, you absolutely despise having to go over what you missed yesterday. Which is why your lunch was cut approximately 15 minutes short today. He was nice enough to make lunches for the both of you today, so with your brown paper bag in hand, you make your way over to the mess-hall. You stop right after entering, trying to find an empty seat among the crowd. You spot Bob and your heart skips a beat. Fanboy is in your seat, and even though there’s an empty spot next to Phoenix, Payback sits down before you can move. It’s probably for the best. As much as it hurts, you need to stay as far away from Bob as possible. It’s the only way you know you can’t ruin his career. Or yours for that matter.

Taking in a deep breath, your eyes move to the corner of the room where the only empty seat remains. Great. Begrudgingly, you make your way over to the table and place your lunch before you as you sit. Rooster’s eyes widen as he slowly chews his bite of food at your action. He’s still staring at you as you open your bag. Rolling your eyes you finally decide to speak, “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”, he asks as he swallows his food. Exasperation crosses your face as you take a bite of your pb & j. You don’t even pay attention to him as you rip into your food, but you can still feel him watching you. “What?”, you ask with a mouth full of peanut butter.

“Nothing”, he shrugs as you raise your brow at him. He clears his throat before gingerly asking, “How are you feeling?” You squint your eyes and dust any crumbs from your hands before folding your arms across your chest.

“What is this? What are you doing?” He shrugs again.

“What? I can’t ask you how you are?”

“Why are you doing it though?”, you counter. He looks away as he mutters an explanation.

“I just- I want to see how you’re doing.”

“Really? Or do you just want to know if I’m going to blow up on you again? How about this: ask me how I’m feeling again and find out.” He guffaws at your cavalierness as you move back to eating. Although, he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Ok sheesh, Miss bossy”, he comments. He just really knows how to get on your nerves, first with Sunday, then with Emily, now this stupid nickname he used to call you when you were mad as a kid.

“Oh come on, with that little stunt you pulled with Emily you should be happy I haven’t ripped into you even more.”

“Listen, for your information I already apologized to Bob about that whole….”, he pauses to motion with his hands, “...ordeal. And Emily thought she was being set up with me so… I am not the one to blame here.”

“Oh yeah? And who is?”

“Ask Phoenix! The woman never even told her Bob’s name!”, he laughs as you give him a slight smile at the absurdness of the whole situation. It’s quiet for a beat as you ponder his explanation.

“She really didn’t tell her his name?”

“Not a damn letter. And the man only has three.” You breathe a small laugh at his comment as he shakes his head. And for a second the two of you sit there and smile, enjoying the playfulness you once shared as children. Which causes you to remember a nickname you haven’t heard in years that he uttered seconds ago.

“And by the way, it’s Lieutenant bossy now. Brad Brad.” He chuckles and shakes his head, the two of you coming to some sort of silent agreement. You feel like a kid again, in a good way this time. It almost makes you forget about the six foot WSO with the beaming blue eyes sitting tables behind you.

You somehow make it the whole day without a real interaction with Bob. You’ve caught fleeting glances of him, and he seems so… normal. Like nothing happened at all. It makes you nervous, even more so than usual. But, you keep telling yourself that it’s for the best. If the two of you ignore everything, life can go on. But there’s still the tiniest part of yourself that longs to know what he’s thinking. Wants to know him more than you do. Just another voice you have to try your best to shut off.

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

Bob can’t help but tap his foot as he waits for the day to start. If you weren’t going to say anything to him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring up anything to you. He checks the time on his watch. Five minutes before your usual start time, but you, Halo, and Phoenix aren’t here yet. He alternates looking at his watch, and glancing at the door as the room starts to fill in. It goes on for a couple more minutes until you finally enter. He’s nervous again. Overthinking every little thing, he averts his gaze before you get the chance to look at him. His boot is still hitting the floor even as you take your seat behind him.

“Floyd”, Hangman barks, “Leave the tapping to Fred Astaire, will ya?” Bob turns his head at his remark, giving him an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry”, he mutters before turning to your father at the front of the room. He spotted you out of the corner of his eye, about to say something to Hangman, but thinking better of it as Cyclone entered the room. You could almost hear everyone adjust in their seat to sit up straight as he made his way to the back of the room. After the dust settles and Maverick takes a second in between talking, Bob swears he can hear the quietest tapping of a pencil coming from your desk.

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

You’re not paired with Phoenix and Bob… again. Which you’re grateful for, you guess. But you also miss talking to your friends. Flying with them. It’s funny, really. You joined the Navy because you wanted to be like your dad, and you found aviation fascinating. And now, you’ve found your own community, your people. Even if it was one of the hardest things you’ve had to do, the first time you stepped foot in a jet you knew it was what you were meant to do.

You’re all back in the classroom after your first flights of the day, discussing once again what could have been done better. There’s all little tweaks Maverick suggests to everyone, not just you this time. And it feels good knowing you did a good job.

“All in all, great job everyone. Have a good lunch”, he excuses the group. You move to grab your stuff and head to the mess hall before your dad calls out for you. “Mantis, would you stay back for a second?” Nodding, you drop your stuff and take Phoenix’s seat in the front row as he rounds his podium.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing good”, you nod, “Feeling good.” He chews on your words for a second before double checking.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”, you laugh, kind of annoyed at the moment. But you understand where he’s coming from, “Flying’s been helping. A lot.”

“Good. That’s good.” He moves back behind his podium, shuffling a couple of pieces of paper before opening a file. “Cyclone”, he starts as you tense at the name, “has been talking to me. About you.”

“Am I in trouble?”, you ask out of reflex.

“No”, he reassures you. “Quite the opposite actually.” Hanging his head, he looks down at the papers before him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous. “He’s been keeping you in mind for something. Just wants to make sure you’re up for the challenge.”

“Another mission?”

“Looks like it”, his gaze is stern as he looks at the file, but as he looks back to you his eyes soften. “Are you going to be ok to do this?” With that look you know he’s not just asking as your Captain, he’s asking as your dad. Your eyes soften with his the slightest bit as you smirk.

“Always, old man.” He chuckles as you smile with him.

“Ok”, he shrugs, “Training for this one won’t start until this storm moves out. I’d expect an announcement from Cyclone sometime next week. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Will do, Captain.”

Your hands are trembling again as you navigate the halls to find a vending machine since you forgot to pack your own lunch this morning. It’s a good sort of nerves that make their way through your system. The training for the last mission was brutal, but good. It kept your mind off of anything of real importance. That’s just what you need right now. A distraction. Which is where your mind is at right now as your brain fills itself with incessant thoughts of what you need to do to prepare as well as a bag of chips, but you’re hitting something and falling to the floor before you can process what’s happening. The sound of a handful of what looks to be peanuts roll on the floor, but you can still hear an, “Oof”, through it all.

Your eyes widen as you look over to the man sitting on the floor in front of you. His eyes mirror your own as the two of you share the longest moment together since this past weekend. Shaking your head, you move to stand as he does.

“I’m so sorry Bob”, you start as he dusts himself off, “I didn’t see you.”

“That’s alright”, he rushes out as he looks over his almost empty bag of peanuts. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you either.” He’s trying his best not to look at you as he starts to pick each individual peanut off the floor. You rush to help him and he still doesn’t look your way.

“You don’t need to do that”, he tells you as the two of you clean the floor.

“I do, it’s my fault”, your hand is already full as you find the nearest trash can to throw the ruined peanuts away. You spot the vending machine he must have just bought them from, tucked in its own little hallway. Before he can stop you, you’re already checking to see if you have enough change before locating their spot in the case. There they are, B4.

“What are you doing?”, Bob complains as he throws his handful and the bag away. You continue to reach in your pocket, not bothering to answer him as he already knows exactly what you’re doing. “Mantis, c’mon. It’s ok. You don’t need to do that.” He watches you bite at your lip as you put in the first two quarters until all you’re left with is a penny. It’s obvious you were going to buy something for yourself. But he’s also pretty sure that the penny in your hand is the same one he slipped you in Phoenix’s kitchen, and the flick of your eyes to his as you clench your fist around it confirms his suspicions.

He swallows as you press the buttons on the machine. The spiral whirls as you give yourself the confidence to speak. Not look at him. Just speak.

“Bob, can we- can we talk?”. The bag drops to the bottom of the machine with a large thump, almost triggering the laughing of Hangman and Coyote as they walk through the hall behind him. He turns as they walk, his eyes wide as he looks back at you.

“Here?”, he whispers.

“No”, you whisper back as you glance over his shoulder. You bend to grab the bag, and grip it tightly before holding it before him, “Later.” You determine for the two of you. He reaches out to the clear bag of peanuts, accepting your offer as you walk around him and into the mess-hall.

Bob’s palms start to sweat as he watches your retreating form. He rounds the corner expecting to see you sitting with Rooster again, but there you are. Sitting at your usual seat next to his vacant one. He stops in his tracks, surprised at your actions, but quickly moves back to the table. Phoenix shoves her own bag of chips your way as you accept with a gracious smile. Your ability to switch mindsets so quickly baffles him as he sits next to you with a smile. The same kind of one you return to him, the ones that don’t quite reach your eyes. He’s not gonna make it through this conversation.

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

Bob’s house has never been this daunting to look at. The white shingles are practically taunting you as you sit in your car. You don’t even know how long you’ve been sitting there, just delaying the inevitable. You immediately changed into some regular clothes after getting home, but sat on your bed for a good 45 minutes working up the courage to drive over here. And even then your car took a few minutes to get started. The voice in the back of your head told you it was a sign that you shouldn’t even bother coming over, but you knew that was an even worse idea than talking about what happened. Getting up the nerve, you vacate your car, and make it halfway up his driveway before a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Oh finally.”

“Rich, don’t be rude. She can probably hear us.” Turning your head, you find two men, probably ten or so years older than your dad, sitting on the front porch just to the right of Bob’s home. One’s got a mug of what you assume to be coffee in his hands, while the other nurses a glass of what looks to be wine. They’re both taken aback as you squint at them in the setting sun. “I’m so sorry about him, I told him to go light on the chardonnay, but…”, shrugging, he rolls his eyes at the other man.

“Oh, it’s ok”, you brush them off. Moving to take another step, his voice stops you again.

“It’s just, we were wondering why you were sitting there for so long”, the one you assume to be Rich pipes up. You suppose you were warned he hasn’t a filter this evening, but your eyes still widen the tiniest bit at his remark.

“Leave the poor girl alone.” Rich waves the other man off, turning back to you.

“We hardly see anyone coming or leaving that boy’s house, but we saw you leaving in a rush the other weekend and were just wondering-”

“We were not wondering anything, because we are not Bob’s nosey neighbors. Those are the ones on the other side of him, the Terrance’s.” You try your hardest to stifle a laugh as they continue to gossip.

“Oh do not get me started on the Terrance’s. ‘Oh Richard’”, he mocks, “‘It is against HOA policy to have a flag hanging in your window.’” You take a look around the well manicured neighborhood, taking note of flag poles proudly displaying the American Flag.

“But you can have a flagpole?” You ask.

“It’s not where it was that was the problem”, Rich responds, “She just did not want to see our beautiful rainbow among the red, white, and blue. That same red, white, and blue we served under, for her information!” The more level-headed one of the two reaches a hand out to Rich in an attempt to calm him. It pushes him further into his seat, and he takes a swig from his glass.

“Easy now, Miss-”, he turns to you as you’re taken out of your spectator seat in the conversation.

“Mitchell”, you reply. He smiles, and turns back to Rich who’s brow is set in a furrow.

“Miss Mitchell here probably has more important things to attend to with Bob”, he emphasizes, catching Rich’s attention,”Than sitting here listening to our quarrels with the neighbors.” As he moves his hand to motion over to Bob’s house, you take notice of the class ring on his finger, the ring that looks all too familiar to the one collecting dust in your closet.

“Do you?”, Rich asks, distracting you from the ring on the other man’s finger.

“Rich!”, he chides.

“I do- actually”, you shy away, remembering why you came over here in the first place. “But it was really nice meeting you-?”

“Oh how rude of me, I’m Harry, and this is my husband Rich”, he motions as Rich nods at you.

“Well, it was very nice meeting you Harry, and Rich”, you smile as you turn back toward the house. Taking a deep breath you move toward the front door. Clenching your fist in your hand, you raise it hoping it will knock on the door of its own volition, but you’re not sure if you’re ready. Screw it, you’re already kinda mad at him. He’s the one who left you and then ignored you at work! You never should have kissed him, even if you long to do it again and again.

“Do you think she’s gonna take longer on the porch than in the car?”, Rich asks in a poor attempt to whisper.

“No”, Harry gives in, “I think her arm will get tired by then.” Turning your head, Harry gives you a sad attempt at trying to look apologetic.

“I’m starting to think you’re just as bad as your husband!”, you shout from across the porch.

“I’m sorry!”, Harry shouts back, “This is the most exciting thing to happen to this neighborhood since Patty down the street got divorced!” You laugh through your nose, only turning back to the task at hand when the sound of the lock alerts you to Bob opening the door. You stare up at his ocean eyes as he blinks at the sight of you. Those same eyes flash in your mind from Saturday night, blinking rapidly before he-

“Hi”, he whispers. The raspiness of his voice catching you off guard.

“Hi”, you whisper back. His gaze moves to your still raised fist, and ever so slowly it moves back to your side. Without meaning to, your eyes fall to his pink lips and the feeling of his body against yours has you shaking the memory out of your head. 

“Can I come in?”, you gently ask.

“Of course”, he responds, quickly moving out of the way to let you in. You’d usually slip your shoes off at the door, and as much as you want to spend longer with Bob, you’re pretty sure this is going to have to be a swift conversation. Just ripping the band-aid off.

Bob leads you further into the house, and soon enough you spot the fluffy black and white tail you’ve come to know and love. He must see you smile at the sight of her, because before you’re able to do anything about it, Bob is calling her over. “Syl, your best friend is here”, he taunts. Her head rises to rest on the cushion, and once she catches your eye she’s trotting over as you bend to pet her.

“Oh hey you sweet girl”, you praise her as she rolls on her back. Once her dad takes a seat on the couch, she’s up to grab his attention instead. You follow behind her, and for the first time, you are uncomfortable in Bob Floyd’s presence. It’s not even his fault, it’s your own. You watch him smile at her, scratching behind her ears until his hand stalls.

“Why are you ignoring me at work?”, you start. Taking in a deep breath, he sighs as he fidgets with his fingers. God damn those hands.

“ I could ask you the same thing”, he retorts, “But if I’m being honest I didn’t want to cause you any more stress than you were already dealing with. I thought that maybe if you wanted to talk you would come to me.” Stress? What stress- unless.

“Wait a second, what do you mean what I’m dealing with?” He hesitates before answering, still not looking at you.

“Your dad called me on Sunday.”

“Oh Jesus Christ”, you relent, “I had one bad day, I am fine now. I just wasn’t sure how to talk to you about”, you motion between the two of you with one hand, “this.” Bob’s staring up at you from beneath his glasses, that same look of pity everyone always looks at you with once they know. “See”, you point at him, “Right there. That is why I don’t tell anyone anything.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to pity me, or feel bad for me”, you huff.

“It’s not pity, Mantis. It’s worry. I worry about you”, he explains as your heart drops in your chest.

“If you really worry about me, then why did you leave me?”, you question. There’s the slightest tremble in your voice, one that most people wouldn’t pick up on. But Bob isn’t most people. He’s on his feet immediately at your words, slowly making his way over to you.

“I panicked. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get you in trouble, I guess. And I just ran.” You feel for him deep down, your own panic had taken hold of you. It just didn’t present itself until you fell asleep.

“I’m sorry, too. For waiting this long to talk to you. And for kissing you.” His brows crinkle as he cocks his head.

“You’re sorry for kissing me?”

“I didn’t- I shouldn’t have done it.” Bob is quick to interject. He knew it. He knew it all along that you only kissed him because you felt bad for him.

“No, I shouldn’t have said anything. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“Bob, I never said I didn’t want to do it. I just- I shouldn’t have acted on my feelings. I cannot stand to ruin your career, your life. I can’t.” His breathing just about stops, but he uses any oxygen he has left to swiftly correct you.

“How would you ruin it? I mean- you’ve already made it so much better.”

“Bob”, you sigh, “I will not let you give up your career. Or mine for that matter, over stupid feelings.”

“So my feelings are stupid?”, you glance back up at him as he furrows his brow at your insinuation.

“No! That’s not what I meant. Mine are.” You’re starting to wring your hands, it’s obvious you’re not getting your point across as eloquently as you would like.

“Well, what are your feelings? I told you how I felt, you never returned the favor.”

“Probably because you were already gone before I had the chance to say anything!” You argue. He frowns at your words, knowing it was a bad move on his part. “And it doesn’t even matter, Bob. It can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t ruin you! I can’t be selfish!”, you finally yell. He’s taken aback as you breathe heavily in front of him. It doesn’t even matter what he thinks, you look like you’re on the verge of another panic attack, so as slow as he can he walks up to your heaving form. He ever so slowly reaches out to your shoulders, and with a nod from you, he wraps you in his strong arms. You’re quick to wrap your own around him. His embrace is so warm, like finally being wrapped in a blanket after being out in the freezing cold for so long, only this time you know the cold is just waiting outside his front door to encase you once you leave. But you let yourself hug him, for the sake of getting to do it one last time.

“I can’t do that to you, Bob”, you whisper into his shoulder. He takes a step back and your arms fall from each other. He moves to push a piece of loose hair behind your ear absentmindedly as his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. “We can’t give each other what we want.”

“You haven’t even told me what you want”, his deep voice whispers as he gazes at your face, almost as if trying to memorize every inch and freckle.

“You already know”, his eyes flick back between yours at your whispered words. Your faces are already so close to each other. All it would take was a simple push from either one of you to be kissing again. You exhale a shaky breath, and before either of you can do anything, Bob’s jumping away from you again at the sound of the doorbell. Sylvia is retreating up the stairs at the noise, and Bob realizes who it is.

“Shit”, he curses under his breath.

“Who is it?” Bob stands there staring at you, wincing as Fanboy’s voice carries from the hall to the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind man, the door was open. And I brought pizza!”, lo and behold Fanboy is walking into the living room a little surprised to see you there as you give him the fakest smile you can muster. “Hey Mantis, are you here for movie night?”

“Of course! Why else would I be here?”, you grit through your teeth as you turn to Bob. He’s avoiding your gaze as he takes a dvd from Fanboy to get it all set up.

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

So here you are. Sitting on one end of Bob’s couch while he is on the other, Fanboy sitting in between the two of you. Completely clueless. He takes his third slice of pizza from its place on the coffee table, then leans back into the couch as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. You’ve been sitting watching Raiders of the Lost Ark long enough that Indy and Marion have made their initial escape, and are now sailing away, comfortable as she starts kissing him better. From the corner of your eye, you spot Bob shifting slightly in his seat as you do the same. Fanboy is perfectly content, sitting against the cushions as the two of you think about the other night. And what was about to happen before he showed up.

Your eyes are taken off the screen as a shrill ringing comes from Mickey’s pocket.

“Sorry”, he mutters as he takes it out. “Oh shit, it’s my mom.” He stands as he moves to the front door, yelling on his way out, “Pause it for me, will ya?” Bob does as he asks and the two of you don’t make any motion to move. He stares at the frozen screen, of Indy and Marion being so intimately close together before he speaks.

“Would you do it again?” You look over to him as he stares ahead, and then back to the screen.

“Bob”, you shake your head, “We can’t, you know the rules-”

“I didn’t ask if you could. I asked if you would. If you would want to.” You’re left staring at Bob with a blank face as he takes a deep breath in, anticipating your answer. His jaw clenches as you give the slightest nod of your head. You can’t lie to Bob. Along with the feeling of safety he encases you in every time you’re with him, the fact remains you can’t lie to him, and that scares the absolute hell out of you.

“Would you?”, you whisper, unconsciously glancing at his lips. His eyelids flutter at your movement and he swallows.

“Yes”, it comes out more as a breath than an actual response, but you understand it nonetheless. You look away from him, the weight of his gaze knowing you both want the same thing too much for you to handle. The hand that was fiddling with the rip in your jeans moves to settle where Fanboy once sat. You can see it out of the corner of your eye as Bob slowly moves to rest his hand next to yours, almost as if he’s scared you’ll move away if he gets any closer. His hand only rests next to yours until he reaches his pinkie out to sit right against yours, testing the waters. You ignore this altogether, reaching your hand to clasp over his, squeezing as he squeezes back just as softly. It has been too long since the two of you held hands, and you couldn’t go one more minute without the feeling of his large hand encasing yours.

Turning his head, the two of you watch your hands as he rubs his thumb over the back of yours. You look towards him completely and chew your lip as he brings his gaze back to your face. And like the two of you are magnets, completely attracting one to the other, you slowly move your faces closer and closer. You can feel his breath on your face, your hand still over his as he squeezes it tighter until-  the sound of Mickey slamming the front door closed jolts the two of you back to your ends of the couch. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you stare straight ahead at the tv, it’s gone black now from being paused for too long as you try to focus on the bouncing logo. Saved by the damn bell, you guess.

Mickey slumps back into the couch with a quick apology and the movie starts back up. Almost as soon as he sits down, you’re on your feet. Met with two pairs of wide eyes, you give a brief smile to Mickey.

“I have to go home”, you rush out with an apologetic smile.

“What?”, Mickey asks, “The movie’s not even over yet.”

“I know, but my dad’s waiting for me. You know how it is”, you attempt to excuse yourself.

“No I don’t actually, because I’m not in High School anymore and I don’t have a curfew”, he laughs. Your dad didn’t technically have a curfew for you, but after your little walk on Sunday, he did tell you he’d like to be in bed by a certain time. And he was most definitely going to wait up until you got home. Shrugging, you make your way around the back of the couch until Bob shoots up out of his seat.

“I’ll walk you to your car”, he urges. He follows you to the front porch, and softly closes the door behind you. The sun has long set by now and the only thing you can hear is crickets chirping. You can’t help but find the parallel to the last time you were outside on a night like this… with Bob. Only this time, you’re sure you are going to go home knowing that Bob can only be your friend, your teammate. He stops short of his lawn as you turn around.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”, you ask with a sad smile. He gives you the same one back, the good old courtesy ones you were so sure you were done seeing him give to you. He nods as you move to walk to your car, but the feeling of his large hand encasing your fingers and slightly tugging has you spinning back around and into his chest. While still holding your hand, his other moves up to your face, his calloused thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheek.

“Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll let you go and I won’t ever do this again.” His blue eyes bore into yours as your heart picks up speed. And you know you shouldn’t, but right now you just can’t care to give a damn.

“Don’t you dare”, you whisper. His lips are on yours immediately as your hands tingle, moving to touch him wherever you can. He hums in surprise as your hand moves up to run through his hair. With one hand still on your face, the other slides from your hand to your waist as he pulls you closer against him. Your lips are moving so fast against each other, it’s hard to discern who deepens it, but you don’t really care as his tongue slides against your own. He’s kissing you like a man starved, and you know you’re just as hungry for him as you pull him against yourself.

It’s almost a mirror of the other night as you start walking backward, hitting the passenger side door of his truck this time. You can’t help but whine into his mouth as his hand slides to the side of your neck, just the feeling of his hand on your bare skin is enough to have you seeing stars. With your free hand, you run your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him impossibly closer to you. With an “oomph”, he allows himself to press his body completely against your own. The pressure sends a tingle down your spine, and you’re quite positive that if he wasn’t holding you up, you’d be melting into a puddle at the feeling.

Reflexively, your hips move forwards to meet his as he sighs against your mouth. Allowing himself to take a miniscule break, resting his forehead against your own.

“Please”, he pleads as his lips graze yours. And even though the kiss is just about over, you know what he’s asking. “Just- just one more”, and who are you to not give into the pleadings of a man who wants exactly what you do? This is not what you came over here to do, but you kiss him with fervor anyway, as his spit-slicked lips meet your own once again. 

If you weren’t so distracted with the passion fueled meeting of your lips, you’d almost think his belt buckle was hitting your pelvis. But you know for a fact as your fingers tighten in his belt loops that he’s not wearing a belt. And that’s how you know this is affecting him just as much as it is you. Oh god.

Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, and just how turned on you are, he moves so his thigh is slotted in between your own. He must feel you clench your thighs around his muscled one. And the pressure just feels so good, causing you to whine one last time against his mouth before separating and resting your forehead against his chest. As much as you want to keep going, you know you need to end it before you go too far. Or before you get arrested for public indecency. Then again, you’ve already gone much farther than you should have with Bob.

“You ok?”, he breathes as he rubs at your neck, a hint of his southern twang peaking out with the ask. You’re still breathing heavily, but Bob feels you nod against him.

“Uh huh”, you muster before you look up at him. Clearing your throat, the two of you don’t break eye contact until you look to his pink lips, swollen thanks to you. You rub any remainder of yourself off of his mouth with your thumb before looking back into his wide-eyed blues. Your hand lingering on his face. “I’ll um- see you at work tomorrow?”

Bob can only nod, knowing full well that this was a goodbye of some sorts. Not as friends, not as teammates, but as whatever could have been. You would be remiss if you didn’t take advantage of this opportunity, so you do. With the gentlest touch of your lips against his, a stark contrast to what you were doing seconds ago, you drop your hand from the slight stubble of his jaw.

“I’ll see you tomorrow”, he whispers. You nod at him this time, deciding to not give him a smile you both know is fake. Slipping out of his arms, his hand lingers on your arm as you walk toward your car, until your fingers fall from his. He watches as you go, and takes a moment to stare up at the night sky with his hands on his hips.

That was a little more hot and heavy than he thought it was going to be, so he takes a moment to collect himself before walking back inside and pretending absolutely nothing happened. Taking his glasses off with one hand, he runs a hand over his face with the other. He forces himself to think of anything but you, baseball stats, mowing the lawn, picking up after Sylvia. That seems to help cool him down as he darts back up to the front door.

“What I wouldn’t give to be kissed like that.” Bob’s head whips over to his right, and takes note of Harry sitting on his front porch, taking a sip from his cup of coffee, sudoku puzzle to his side.

“Oh God”, Bob mumbles as he turns back to his house, not bothering to say anything else to the man.

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