#lake worth roofing

[flpowerclean-blog]

Power Clean Pressure Cleaning is your premiere pressure washing and  roof cleaning company in South Florida. Contact us today for more  information.

[comradeadams]

How the Roofer Cleaned My Roof: A Comprehensive Guide

Like most homeowners, you probably don't think about roof cleaning until there's a problem. And even then, it's often not until the roof starts leaking that you start to worry. While roof cleaning should be left to professionals, it's good to have a basic understanding of what goes into the process. This blog post will take a comprehensive look at how roofers clean roofs and what homeowners can expect from the process.

What to do when roofers do their job

When roofers come to do their job, the first thing they will do is inspect the roof. They will look for any signs of damage or wear and tear. Once they have a good idea of the roof's condition, they will start cleaning it.

The cleaning process can vary depending on the type of roof and the severity of the dirt and grime. For most roof types, roofers use a pressure washer to remove loose debris. They will then apply a cleaning solution to the roof and let it sit for a few minutes. After the solution has had time to work, they will rinse it off with the pressure washer.

In some cases, roofers may need a brush to scrub the roof if the dirt and grime are stubborn. This is usually only necessary for very dirty roofs or roofs that have not been cleaned in a long time.

After the roof has been thoroughly cleaned, roofers will inspect it again to make sure they didn't miss any spots. They will also look for any potential problem areas that need to be repaired. Once satisfied with the roof, they will apply a sealant to help protect it from future dirt and grime.

How do roofers clean up nails?

One of the most common questions homeowners have about roof cleaning is how roofers deal with nails. Over time, nails can work their way out of the roof and fall to the ground. If these nails are not picked up, they can become a tripping hazard or puncture tires.

Most roofers will use a magnet to pick up fallen nails. They will also inspect the roof for any loose nails and secure them before they start cleaning.

It's important to note that roofers will not be able to pick up every nail. If you find a nail after the roofers have left, it's best to pick it up yourself or call the roofing company to come back and pick it up.

What to expect from the process

Homeowners can expect roofers to take around two to four hours to clean their roofs. The time will vary depending on the size of the roof and the severity of the dirt and grime.

Are you looking for a roofer in Boca Raton, FL?

If you are looking for a roofer in Boca Raton, FL, we encourage you to visit Complete Roofing Solution Inc. We are a roofing company that specializes in roof cleaning and repair. We have years of experience and knowledge in the roofing industry and are dedicated to providing our customers with the best possible service. Contact us today to schedule a free roof inspection.

We look forward to serving you!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Sadly, the lady who was building her dream hobbit house right on Lake Michigan in Rapid City, Michigan, died suddenly and the house needs a buyer who will finish it. She spared no expense using the finest materials and the home is for sale for $5M. 3bds, 3.5ba. Take a look.

This is how it's supposed to look finished- stone facade, round door, elliptical windows and copper edging to make the roof stand out.

Look at the shapes on the back, facing the lake.

The rolls of copper are already here for the roof and waiting to be installed.

Look at the swoops in the roof.

Hope a new owner comes along and finishes it.

Look at how beautifully the interior architectural features curve.

Not liking the rail, maybe it's just temporary.

Closeup of the rounded front entrance.

I bet this home will be worth a lot when it's done. It's going to be unique and right on the lake.

Nice big patio right on the beach. The property measures .75 acre.

[spiderwcd]

siren lake c.b.

pairing: colby brock x mermaid/siren ! f ! reader

summary: they come to explore the haunted lake, but maybe it wasn't just haunted.

warning(s): mentions of deaths, near drowning, profanity, near-death experiences mystical creatures, etc.

w.c.: 3.3k

a/n: guys, please don't hate me!! i've been away so long, ive been having writer's block and then i've been so busy with my life and having the worst luck ever (they weren't wrong about that fanfic writer curse) but trust me! i have a lot of works saved, slowly plowing through them.

images from pinterest !

“Dude,” Sam abruptly jumped from his seat on the couch, carrying his laptop over to Colby. “Look at this.” He pointed the screen towards him, revealing his discovery.

Colby curiously averted his gaze over to the screen, reading the article that was pulled up. “W-What am I looking at here, Sam?” he inquired, raising a brow towards him.

“Well, someone sent me this article about this supposedly haunted lake,” Sam began, plopping himself next to Colby on the couch. “They say that these entities are haunting it, causing a bunch of disappearances.” He finally added.

Taking a moment, Colby glanced at the article, contemplating. “I mean, it’s worth a shot,” Colby muttered, facing towards his best friend.

In due time, they arrived in Michigan, the Land of the Lakes. Colby had been studying about this mysterious lake, finding holes in different stories. It was something unknown to him, unable to find an obvious answer here.

“Okay, so as we know,” Sam began, looking over at Colby from the driver’s seat. “This lake is in the middle of the forest, near some campsites.” Sam clarified.

Colby nodded, understanding his statement, “Don’t forget to mention the disappearances, also about the spirit that drowns first in the 80s.” He pointed out.

Sam nodded in return, pursing his lips as he attempted to dig further into his thoughts. “Oh, what about the mermaid theory?” Sam suddenly blurted out.

Colby scoffed, looking over at Sam with a slight grimace. “Seriously? Mermaids?” Colby murmured, flipping through his notebook. “I mean, sure, it’s a fun idea to entertain, but we both know that’s not real.”

“Oh hey, come on,” Sam nudged Colby, still steering the wheel of the car. “It’s nice to have an imagination here, Colby.” Sam chuckled, patting him on the shoulder before placing both hands on the wheel.

Colby shook his head, smiling as he studied the pages of research. He examined the illustration on the page, deep into toying with the idea. He shook his head once more, closing the page as he thought about the ridiculous idea.

The car came to a halt, prompting Colby to face upward to the scene. His jaw flew open in amazement, admiring the large forest surrounding them. The middle showcased a lake larger than he had envisioned.

“Woah,” Colby muttered, exiting the car to get a better view. “Did not expect it to be so gorgeous out here.”

“Even if this comes to a dead end, at least we’ll have a good time in the middle of the forest.” Sam joked.

“You must be Sam and Colby,” they had suddenly heard, causing them to avert their gaze over to the voice. “Hi, I’m Ben.” The man waved over towards the two.

The duo made their way towards their host, introducing each other.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ben had asked them.

“Oh yes,” Sam nodded, glancing around once again. “Very nice, exceeded our expectations.”

“That’s great,” Ben chuckled, leading the two towards the cabin that peered over the ominous lake. “Cause the two of you will be staying here, so get used to it.”

Sam and Colby glance at each other for a moment, following Ben towards the door. As they entered, they studied the room. It wasn’t one of their Airbnbs, but it was still nice, grateful for a roof and not a tent. 

Colby’s eyes slowly averted towards the window, as if an irresistible force was pulling him towards the lake. But swiftly pulled away at the pat on his shoulder, facing towards the grasp.

“Isn’t that right, Colby?” Sam asked him, confusing Colby. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, for sure.” Colby randomly replied, going along with Sam’s story. 

“Alright, I’ll let ya get to it then,” Ben sighed, making his way toward the entrance. “I’ll come back in the morning to check on y’all. Remember to check the list I left every night.” He pointed out. 

Once Ben had exited the campground, leaving the duo alone in the woods. Colby let out a breath as he planted himself onto one bed, rubbing his eyes slightly. 

“Well, what did you want to start with?” Sam asked, plopping next to him. “Did you want to do the intro or do more research?” 

Colby peaked from his hands, looking towards Sam. “Uh, let’s just figure out our intro and record that, followed by more research,” he answered. 

They didn’t waste any time, every minute counted for them. Considering the way the sun crept through the blinds and curtains, the time was very limited. Colby’s fingers started to cramp from the various writing and typing, along with the migraine sneaking in.

“That’s it,” Colby blurted, tossing the pencil down. “I think it’s time to throw the towel. I need a break.”

“Me too,” Sam sighed. “If I have to write one more thing, my head might explode.”

Colby dryly chuckled, planting himself onto his feet. “I’m just gonna go out onto the pier. I need some time alone.” 

He opened the door, letting the cool wind hit his face. He quickly closed the door, walking towards the wooden structure. Colby let out a groan as he crossed his legs, overlooking the large body of water. He ran his hand through his hair, attempting to relax as he listened to the soft music of the forest. 

But he lost his train of thought, a splash ringing out. Colby curiously raised his brow, searching for the source of the ripple of water. He focused in on one area, unable to take his eyes off. 

Colby soon got interrupted by a ringing from his pocket, pulling his eyes away from the lake. He picked himself off the wobbling planks, retrieving his phone. 

“Hello?” he answered, still glancing over towards the ominous lake. 

“Colby, get in here,” Sam waved over from the window, still on the line. “I found something.” 

Colby hung up the phone call, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. As he entered the cabin, Sam quickly dashed his way and shoved his laptop into Colby’s face. 

“Look.” Sam smugly grinned. 

Colby looked at his best friend before looking back towards the screen. 

‘Sirens in Michigan?’ 

“Sam,” Colby tried to protest, but Sam was persistent. 

“Listen, we hunt ghosts. How much different can this be?” Sam scoffed, attempting to change Colby’s mind. “Can you at least be open to the idea?” 

Colby looked at Sam with a blank look, crossing his arms. “Fine, we can be open to the idea, but I’m still skeptical about it all.”

The next day arrived, prompting the boys to prepare their video at last. Colby stood at the edge of the lake, awaiting Sam to finish setting up the camera. Sam gave Colby a thumbs up, signaling everything was ready. 

“Hey, what’s up guys!” Sam greeted. “It’s Sam and Colby, and we’re here at the Siren Lake in Michigan!” he panned the camera towards the lake and treeline. 

“We’re here to investigate the various spirits that might be roaming the lake,” Colby began explaining. “But also, as the name suggests, there might be more than just spirits here.” 

“That’s right guys,” Sam chimed in. “There are supposedly sirens, aka mermaids, in this very lake.” 

“If you ask me, I don’t think there’s such a thing,” Colby raised his hands in defense, causing Sam to shake his head. “Listen, ghosts and demons have a lot of proof and we’ve seen them, but mermaids?” Colby scoffed. 

“I think you’ll say differently later,” Sam smirked. “Cause one of us is gonna have to go onto the pier and talk to the said spirits or whatever roams that lake.” 

The two continued to talk, making their way around the lake for a bit. 

“Okay, so the history of this lake begins with a family, as most do,” Sam began. “The Bradson family had owned this lake from generations ago until the 80s.” 

“The only reason they had sold it off is because they used to run a camp here until odd drownings had appeared,” Colby added. “And all of them were all men.” 

“That doesn’t give us a lot of comfort, does it now?” Sam joked, nervously laughing into the camera. 

“Our guide and the owner of the campgrounds will be here in a moment to explain more in-depth,” Colby explained. “He knows more than we do.”

Just in time, a car pulled back onto the dirt road. Ben exited his car, greeting the boys once more. 

“Perfect timing,” Sam laughed. “We just began introducing you.” 

Ben chuckled, making his way towards the two, “Almost as if I was summoned here.” He joked. 

Sam turned on his camera, recording once more, “So actually, as we closed our camera, our guide just pulled in.” He chuckled, pointing it towards Ben. “Say hello to Ben.” He introduced

“Alright, Ben, we just want to know what you know,” Colby started, crossing his arms slightly. “Tell us your secrets.” 

“As you must already know, this used to be a campground until the 80s,” Ben began. “Do you know why they call it Siren Lake?” He asked the two.

Sam glanced over to Colby with a grin, causing Colby to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, we might have an idea,” Sam answered. 

“Well, people started talking about how the victims were all men,” Ben pointed out. “A rumor started that they were ‘seduced’ over to the water and murdered by a siren.” 

“Really? Sirens?” Colby scoffed, laughing a bit. 

“Yep, since the lake connects to a river that leads to the ocean, they assumed that something supernatural might cause of this.” Ben chuckled at Colby’s reaction. 

“Can you tell Colby is a skeptic about mermaids?” Sam teased. 

“Oh, that’s alright, he won’t be by the end of the trip,” Ben replied. 

While heading to the pier, Ben entertained the group with tales of the profound history and personal experiences of different individuals.

“So tell us, have you seen the siren?” Sam asked curiously. 

Ben thought about it for a moment. “You know, I have,” he nodded. “I was letting a group of guys stay here for the night. I went to check on them and they were freaking out about their friend seeing something. So I went to check out the lake because I figured they saw something and freaked out. But when I stopped at the edge of the pier, I saw something peeking at me through the water.” 

“Woah, that’s so weird,” Sam muttered. “What did you do?” 

“Well, I thought it was someone playing some joke, so I yelled at them to get out of the water and it was private property.” Ben shrugged. “But they just stared at me for a second so I pointed my flashlight over, which made them go underwater and splash away, and I saw bluish silver scales on the biggest fish's tail I’ve ever seen.” 

Sam looked over to Colby, a smug look on his face as if he was saying ‘told you so’. 

“I’d be careful, boys,” Ben warned. “Even you, Colby, sirens are no joke. They will lure you and drown you. Just be careful.” 

“Thank you, Ben.” Sam thanked him, shaking his hand before letting him return to his daily work. 

Sam turned over to Colby, “I told you, what happened to having an open mind?” 

“I’m trying, but mermaids? It’s hard to wrap my head around.” Colby responded. “I already have enough of ghosts and demons.” 

Sam rolled his eyes at his best friend. “Okay, let’s just talk about the spirits. Surely you’ll keep an open mind about that.” He patted Colby on the back, pulling out the various equipment. 

Sam turned on the rem pod, placing it down onto the pier, followed by the Alice box.

“Alright guys, so we’re now gonna talk about the spirits,” Sam sighed. “There were about 3 guys that drowned. They weren’t even able to recover any of their bodies because of how deep this lake is.” 

“Yeah, so their bodies could still be down there,” Colby added, shivering at the thought of it. 

“There’ are a lot of theories about how these guys died, most of them saying they were drunk or under the influence. There’s also speculation that they died from how cold the water was, causing hypothermia, but of course, there’s the siren theory,” Sam stated. “Sirens, though, tend to just kill to kill. It’s said that it killed them because they were terrible guys.” 

“They were awful, apparently having a reputation of being sleazy and gross,” Colby added, having a grimace grow on his face at the idea. “But we’ll try to find out through the spirit box and maybe the Estes method.” 

“I think since I’m more open-minded, unlike my colleague,” Sam teased, pointing the camera towards Colby who shook his head. “I’m gonna be doing the Estes method.” 

They quickly turned on the devices in hand, thinking of questions. 

“Alright, Uh, is there anyone here?” Sam asked to the open, listening carefully as the crickets chirped and the night wind blew past them. 

“...you…”

“Who are you referring to?” Sam responded. 

“...water…” 

“Yep, there’s water here. Is this where you passed away?” Colby nodded, shifting his weight. 

“...rocks… drown…” 

Sam snapped his head towards Colby, a confused look painted on his face. “Woah,” he muttered. Colby agreed, looking back at the Alice box.

“Who are you? Are you one of three men that drowned here?” Sam added, biting his lip as he rubbed his chin with his finger. 

“...Mike…” 

Colby’s jaw dropped, facing the camera. "They're not gonna believe that, but one of the men who passed away was named Micheal Anderson," Colby said, his jaw dropping as he faced the camera.

“...unknown…cold…” 

Sam’s face contorted to one of confusion, looking at Colby for answers. “Maybe they’re saying they don’t remember how they died? I mean, the water gets freezing.”

Colby nodded, attempting to decipher the various words and their meanings. “Can you tell us what happened? Did you guys just die from the cold water or drown from drinking too much?”

“...none…strange…” 

“Huh, maybe the siren theory was right?” Sam nudged Colby. 

“Yeah right,” Colby sneered. “Maybe they died from something else.” 

“...careful…” 

“Look, it’s even trying to warn us,” Sam pointed out, but soon the familiar red light and blaring sound appeared from the rem pod, alerting the two. “Oh my god, that scared the fuck out of me,” Sam murmured, pointing the camera towards the flashing device. 

“Is that you Micheal? Or is someone else making that flash?” Colby asked, stepping away from the rem pod as the light continued to circle. 

“...pussy…” 

Colby blurted out in laughter, followed by Sam. “Wow, maybe they were jerks.” 

“I think maybe the Estes Method will give us a simple answer then,” Sam said, calming down from the fit of laughter. 

Colby turned off the spirit box, handing Sam the bandana followed by the headphones. Once he had put them on, Colby showed the camera that Sam couldn’t respond.

“Okay, so let’s begin,” Colby sighed. “Okay, can you give us a straightforward answer to what happened here? You guys are being very hush-hush about the answer.” 

“Pier,” Sam blurted out. “Something dangerous.” 

“Yeah, some can say drinking and swimming are dangerous,” Colby joked. “Can you clarify more?” 

“Beware of the woman,” Sam answered. 

Colby felt his heart drop, unable to comprehend what that could mean. “Uh, what woman?” 

“She calls for you,” Sam responded, confusion in his voice. “Watching you.” 

A shiver ran down Colby’s spine, goosebumps covering his skin. “W-Wha… Watching me?” Colby repeated, hearing the familiar splashing near the pier. 

Colby snapped his head up, his eyes attempting to adjust to the dark as the moonlight hit the ripples. Colby pointed his flashlight over to the deep gray water, searching for the source, just as he had done earlier in the day. 

Sam continued to speak, unknowing of his best friend’s search. Colby’s feet stopped at the edge of the pier, ignoring all the sounds in the background. He let out a sigh of relief, unable to find any evidence of anything going on. 

But as soon as Colby put down his flashlight, he felt large hands pressed up against his back. Colby, unable to retain his balance, fell into the deep cold waters, which had created a large splash that traveled to Sam. 

Sam tore the headphones and blindfold off his head, turning around to look at Colby as he floated to the top. 

“Woah, you alright, man?” Sam hurried to the edge, squatting down as he offered a hand to him. 

Colby let out a laugh, swimming towards the pier. “Someone fucking pushed me in.” He muttered, reaching for Sam’s grasp. 

He was about to grab Sam’s palm, but felt a tug at the end of his legs. “What the fuck, something grabbed-” 

Colby’s sentence soon cut off as he got pulled under the water. He kicked the unknown entity, gasping for air as he heard Sam’s voice muffle as he called out for him. 

Colby thrashed, adrenaline kicking in as he attempted to free himself. Colby looked down at the void of the lake, unable to find the source. Water filled his mouth, oxygen slowly escaping his body. His body sank, and the energy to fight slowed. 

Colby had accepted there wasn’t a way out of this doom, looking up as he slowly descended into the seemingly never-ending waters. His vision slowly distorted as he examined the murky waters above him. 

“Wow, I never realized it was a full moon tonight,” was all he could think about 

Just as he thought it was the end, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. A figure slowly circled him as it made its way past the moonlit waters, a glow of bluish silver reflecting as its hair sprawled around it. 

Well, it wasn’t rather it; it was a woman. Colby wanted to react, but his body slowly shut down as his vision darkened. She was beautiful, her skin flawless and her long hair engulfing them as she touched his face as if she examined his features. 

Colby’s vision became dark, becoming unconscious. She doesn’t remember men being this flawless, gliding her fingers across his skin. His tattoos caught her eye, something odd about painting skin to her. A frown grew on her face, looking back up at the land above as blue and red lights danced around the surface of the water. 

She looked back at Colby, knowing the minutes were passing by. She quickly grabbed his arm, carrying his limp body up. Peeking over the water, she glanced around at the various people walking around. She bit her lip, brainstorming ideas. 

The mermaid decided it was best to leave him by the shore, where Sam was pacing and freaking out. She knows if she does this, who knows if her identity will be safe? But something against her nature knew this one thing: she did not want the beautiful man to perish. 

She drew him above the water, grunting as she pulled his seemingly lifeless body towards the wet rocks. She looked back at him, her brows furrowing as she fought within herself whether she did the right thing. Under the water once more, she dove, splashing as she vanished, making her way under the pier to observe the scene. 

It wasn’t long until many flashlights lit up the shore, revealing Colby’s drenched and pale body. Sam let out a cry, watching as his best friend coughed and gasped for air as the water exited his lungs. Sam embraced him, relief washing over him as he recovered from his accident. 

Colby sat at the edge of the patient compartment of the ambulance, wrapped in a towel, drowning out as the EMTs and various cops talked to Sam as he stared towards the lake. Something inside him was fighting whether he had made up the mysterious creature or, by some miracle, it was all true. 

Colby jumped as Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Dude, what the hell happened? I thought you were gone. The cops said you were lucky to even make it out of that lake.” 

Colby looked up at Sam before glancing back at the body of water. “I think a mermaid just saved me.”

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

thank you guys for reading!

I'm sorry if it's short, Its just something I put together in one day. I do value your opinion, so please do tell me what you think!!

expect more stories soon!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

what ifffff you showed us more of what steve + hawkins got up to during eddie’s summer? :) <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A WHAT IF? - SHE DRIVES ME CRAZY/I WANT YOU TO WANT ME 🌲

“This feels wrong.” You scrunched your nose as you admitted it, eyes still closed, skin warmed by the sun above.

Beside you, your boyfriend snorted, his bare leg pressed against your own, his old lifeguard shorts cut high on his thighs and cherry red against his tanned skin.

“Wrong?” Steve questioned, his shoulder bumping your own before he rolled over, the roof of the gym creaking a little under your shared weight. He groaned at the effort, shifting onto his stomach until he could lean in and press a kiss to your shoulder, nosing at the skin along your chest that was left bare between your bikini straps. “You’re making this seem way more scandalous than it is, babe.”

You laughed, eyes opening to view the green canopy above, the trees swaying slightly in the breeze so that pieces of blue peeked through. The sky was cloudless, the camp almost quiet. The kids were by the lake, supervised by the other councillors on shift and on the rare occasion you had a day off that matched with Steve’s, the two of you had ensured you wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone.

The clumsy climb onto the gym roof was almost comical and it was always borderline dangerous the way you had to stand on Steve’s shoulders to reach the hidden spot but it was worth it. T-shirts shed and skin bared to the sun and each other’s lips, it was easy to take a nap and curl in on each other.

“You know what I mean,” you mumbled sleepily, face tilted up for Steve to dote on. You smiled at kisses he dropped there, nose smushed to your cheek, the smell of sunscreen you made him wear clinging to his skin. “The kids are probably trying to drown each other and your best friend is going through a crisis somewhere.”

Steve’s hand skated over the soft of your stomach, fingers catching on the open button of your shorts, the smooth fabric of your bikini bottoms that peeked out from the zipper. He was curling in on you, elbows braced on the blanket you’d laid down, hovering over your lazy frame as he nosed at your neck.

“Eddie’s not my best friend,” he muttered, sulking.

“He’ll be heartbroken,” you told him, smiling at the sky, at the feeling of Steve’s lips on your jaw. “Who’s your best friend?”

“You are,” Steve told you in a tone that made you think it was supposed to be a very obvious answer. “Dummy.”

You snorted, wriggling until you could face Steve and love on him too, meeting his lips in a kiss that you broke away from before it could turn heated. You could feel Steve’s pout against your cheek.

“Has he said anything? Y’know, about the whole situation?”

“Hmm?” Steve was barely listening, his fingers toying with the straps of your bikini instead. “Who?”

You huffed, toes digging into the meat of his calf in annoyance. “Eddie, duh. Has he spoken to her? Have they talked about what happened the other night? I really think she likes him, you know, she’s just struggling to admit it right now.”

Steve grunted, nodding without really listening and he dropped another kiss on your shoulder, working his way back to your jawline.

You paused, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “Steve, are you even listening to me?”

The boy huffed and pulled you into him by the waist, his fingers tucked into your belt loops and his brow furrowed as he leaned in for another kiss. He kept his pout long after you relented to his affection, your smile keeping him from licking into you the way he wanted to.

“Can’t lie to you babe, Eddie and his womanly troubles are the last thing on my mind right now.”

You rolled your eyes but let Steve work his thigh between yours regardless, the stubble of his jaw scratching nicely on the sensitive skin of your neck as he sucked a hickey there. Tilting your head back so he had more room to work, you pretended to sigh, long suffering and tired.

“What’s on your mind if you’re not even considering helping your best friend?”

“He’s not my best friend.”

“Whatever.”

Steve blocked the trees and the sky as he pulled back, grinning down at you with summer flushed cheeks and freckles on his nose. He looked too pretty, hair mussed from air drying after swimming in the lake, his bare chest more tanned than it had been at the beginning of the month.

“If you let me get you out of this bikini,” Steve bartered, “we can go play matchmaker later, alright?”

[steveshairychest]

"Don't fall in love with me." Steve laughed in a self-deprecating way. His eyes were unfocused and glassy as he stared out at the darkness of lovers lake, his hands fiddled with the nearly empty beer he'd been sipping for the past hour.

Eddie furrowed his brow, mind a little slow from the alcohol as he leaned in closer to the other boy and said, "What if I already have?" They were sitting on the roof of Steve's car, their thighs pressed close and shoulders bumping as they simply just existed together. "It's a little hard for me not to do something I've already done."

Steve exhaled shakily and tipped his head up to the stars. His hands now gripped the glass bottle tightly. "You'll only get hurt. I have a reputation for being a pretty shitty boyfriend." He said it so softly, so weakly, that Eddie had to lean further into his space to hear.

Eddie scoffed once the words registered in his alcohol riddled mind. "That's bullshit." He didn't see Steve flinch. "I think I'd like to decide for myself whether or not you're a shit boyfriend." They've never explicitly talked about their feelings for one another, but it's been implied multiple times. For example, Eddie didn't think they made out as friends in the car before climbing out onto the hood.

He was thankful for the added confidence from the alcohol because he didn't think he'd have the bravery to be this straightforward about how he felt without it.

"Steve, go out with me. Be my boyfriend."

Steve blinked, looked him up and down, and laughed. "You're drunk. You don't want that."

Eddie shoved him lightly. "Fuck you. You don't know what I want. What I want is to call you my boyfriend. Hell, I'll even double that and propose to you right now! That's how serious I am!" He was so fucking scared. He didn't know how far this little game between them went. Was he crossing a line? He'd thought he'd read the signals right but the shock on Steve's face was telling him that maybe he didn't. Maybe he needed to start walking home right now.

"You're serious?" Steve whispered. "You actually want to date me?" Eddie wanted to strangle everyone that had made Steve hate and doubt his own self worth this much. He looked so vulnerable in that moment. His eyes were so wide, so bright under the stars, and his lips were parted ever so slightly in shock as he tried to find any sort of indication that Eddie was lying. He wasn't. He's never wanted anything more than this.

"I'm serious. I think I've wanted to date you since like 8th grade." They both laughed at that. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve's smile, it was a shy thing that he tried to hide with a sip from his beer.

When the laughter died down, Eddie twirled a piece of hair in front of his face and, without looking at Steve, said, "You can say no. I promise not to cry."

"You're a pretty crier, I wouldn't mind too much." He said it so nonchalantly, his eyes crinkled in a smile as he glanced over at a scared shitless Eddie. "Can I give you my answer tomorrow? I...need time to think when my head isn't all fuzzy with booze."

Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Of course. I understand." They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night, both of them caught up in their own heads as they watched the lake lap at the shore.

Eddie hoped the sun stayed away for a little longer. He wasn't ready for the morning light to wash away this moment, he wasn't ready for Steve's answer.

But he knew that no matter what Steve decided, he'd love Steve regardless.

Steve Harrington was so hard not to love.

[r-f-m-writes]

Pretty, Dead Animals Chapter Two

The backs of Linette’s thighs stuck flush to the linoleum floor of her apartment as she twisted left and right, razor in hand, carefully shaving away a week worth of hair on her legs and arms.

Her aircon was still broken, its absence magnifying the stifling heat that rose slow and smothering through the space. No amount of persistent hinting would compel Mrs. Weller to have it mended.

Linette knew it was negligence on her landlord’s part, that she would be within her rights to lodge a formal complaint, make threats of breaking lease - but she wouldn’t.

Linette didn’t like making a nuisance of herself. She knew full well that she couldn’t afford rent anywhere else in town, and she didn’t have anyone to stay with if Mrs. Weller gave her the boot for being a pest over broken appliances.

Working up a lather on her skin with cheap moisturizing body wash, the girl sighed through her nose.

The weekend was running long, the sun seeming to drag its feet as it crawled slow and cumbersome through the bright blue, cloudless sky.

Rinsing her razor off in the bowl of soapy water, Linette started on the backs of her knees while she glanced around the apartment, thinking of what else there was to do.

The floors were spotless from her sweeping and mopping them yesterday. The kitchenette was tidy as could be. All her clothes were washed, folded and put away - not as much of a feat as it seemed when Lin liked to keep her wardrobe small. The only thing she hadn’t done was make her bed.

Passing a wet washcloth over her legs, Linette wrung it out over the second, smaller bowl of dirty water before hanging it on the handle of the stove, knowing it would dry out in minutes flat thanks to the heat.

Pumping the last of her unscented moisturizer into her palm, Linette layered the soothing balm over her legs quickly before she stood.

A slow, hot wind pushed through her apartment window, making cream checkered curtains billow inward and fluster around Linette as she stepped forward, feeling the soft touch of the heady breeze dust over her skin, cooling and warming all at the same time.

Outside stretched miles and miles and miles of red sand. Shrubs scattered over the scorched earth like round green dice thrown by the hand of a giant. Far away, almost further than Lin could see, there were trees. Tall, swaying, hardy. No lakes stretched far enough inland to supply the flora with water, so their salvation came as rain.

She could feel the promise of a downpour in the air. It sat heavy on the roof of her mouth, soothing and clean on the wind. There would be a cool change before the world was bathed. Linette would leave her windows open, let the glory of the storm roll through her apartment until the air held a pleasant snap of its chill and all her pillows smelled of rain.

Pushing away from where she had been leaned against the painted sill, she folded back the dressing screen that stood like a makeshift wall between her bed and the rest of the apartment, careful not to scratch the floor as she moved the wooden legs. Linette was getting her security deposit back if it was the last thing she did.

A disarray of pillows and sheets kicked around on top of her mattress greeted her with the screen pushed back.

Bun Bun lay on the ground looking up at her soulfully with his scratched glass eyes.

Linette’s stomach dropped. She swept him into her arms in a second, hugging him against her in apology as her throat went tight.

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you fell.”

It was stupid. Embarrassin. Her attachment to the stuffed toy as an adult, as someone who should have grown up and then grown out of ‘childish’ things, but she couldn’t help it.

Bun Bun was all she had that was really hers as a child. Hers to keep. Hers to love. Hers to depend on as she was pedaled from one group home to the next, passed on like a burden no one wanted.

He wasn’t even given to her by her real parents. Some of the other kids had things like that. Baby blankets. Quilts made for them by mothers who were too young or too deststue to shoulder the responsibility. Little, hopeless gifts given in lue of real love, real apologies, real accountability.

Linette was abandoned with nothing.

Bun Bun was given to her by Mrs. Lee, the nicest foster mother she ever loved and lost. Her house had been big and clean and safe. There was always food in the fridge, and Lin was always allowed to eat when she was hungry. Mrs. Lee gave her hugs and didn’t punish her for anything, ever.

Linette didn’t realize she was crying until her tears began to wet the top of Bun Bun’s head, his floppy brown ears draped over her wrists as she held him up to her face, chest constricted and empty and horrible.

Wind picked up at her back. Curtains whipped, clicking on their rod.

The smell of rain rolled over her with a familiarity that was as soothing and unconditional as one of Mrs. Lee’s hugs.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 48

You, Joel and Ellie make a home for yourselves in Jackson. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-47 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 4.2K

Summer, 2024 

“You swear I’m not going to sink,” Ellie looked skeptical, waist deep in the lake. 

“I promise you’re not gonna sink,” Joel said, smiling a little. “I’ll be right here, not gonna let you drown, Kiddo.” 

“So I just, what, fall and the water catches me or what?” She asked. “Because that sounds like bullshit.” 

“Come out a little deeper,” Joel stepped back a bit and Ellie hesitated before she obeyed. He arranged himself beside her, one arm behind her back and the other low in the water to help bring her legs up. “Alright, stick one leg straight out and lean back….” She winced as she did it. “Right, now the other one, too. Don’t worry, not gonna let you drown.” 

You watched as she rose to floating on her back, her face scrunched tight for a moment before she smiled, eyes opening. 

“I’m doing it!” She yelled. “Doc, look!” 

“I’m looking!” You shaded your eyes with the book you’d been reading, watching from the shore. “You’re doing great!” 

“See?” Joel smiled, standing up straight again, hands on his hips. “Don’t need me out here at all.” 

You watched as he showed her how to move her arms and legs while on her back, then helped her move to her front, sweeping her arms forward and pulling herself through the water. 

“I can swim!” She called to you. “I can fucking swim!” 

You smiled at Joel and he smiled back at you, both of you loving the chance to have Ellie be a child for a change. 

Jackson had been good for her. You were all still settling into it in a way. It was strange to think that, a year ago, Ellie hadn’t met Joel and you and Joel were avoiding each other like the plague. Now, you all lived under one roof, together as a family.  

You’d overhauled Ellie’s room first. It was girlie, far too girlie for a girl like Ellie. She thought about what she wanted and sheepishly came into the living room one afternoon with a notebook in her hands when you were reading, your head on Joel’s lap. 

“Is this dumb?” She asked, holding the notebook out. 

“Almost definitely not but let me look,” you said, setting your book on your stomach and taking the notebook from her. It was a mural of the stars, an astronaut floating in space with the Earth a swirl behind them and the long neck of a giraffe reaching into the stars. “In what universe is this dumb? This is awesome!” 

“Yeah?” She smiled, leaning over the notebook. “See, I did the astronaut with the kind of space suit that Sally Ride used…” 

“Brilliant,” you said. “Let’s do it!” 

“Fuck yeah,” she smiled. 

Joel made it a point to look for paint when out on patrol and it didn’t take long before you had everything you needed to make it happen. You showed Ellie how to work with the larger space, sketching out the mural in quadrants at first and then starting to paint. It took a few days to finish, the two of you working together on it. She painted the last star, you holding the step stool so she could reach high enough. She came back down and looked up at it, proud, before yelling through the house. 

“Joel!” She called. “It’s done! You gotta come see!” 

He came in, a dish towel over his shoulder, soap suds still on his wrists. 

“Well this is damn impressive,” he said. 

“Right?” Ellie said. “It’s like I’m a real artist!” 

“You are a real artist,” you smiled at her. “You made something. It’s art. You’re an artist, kid.” 

“Hell yeah I am,” she smiled up at the mural. Joel pressed a kiss into your forehead and smiled. When your eyes met his, you knew you were thinking the same thing: Any sacrifice was worth this. 

She was a little prickly about school at first. You waited more than a week to start her there, spending most of the time with the three of you piled together on the couch, either watching movies on the TV and VCR in the living room that - miraculously - still worked or playing board games. The family who lived in this house before had a decent stash in the basement - Clue, Monopoly, Scrabble, even something called Settlers of Catan that neither you or Joel had ever heard of but quickly became Ellie’s favorite. 

The three of you seemed to do best when you were close together. It reminded you, again, of what it was like coming to the QZ with Andrew. You’d thought you were better prepared for it this time - and maybe you were - but it did little to ease the worry that rose in you when Joel left the house to pick up food or Ellie went to shower and was out of your sight for more than a few minutes. The nauseating, hot ball of anxiety seemed constantly primed and ready to fill your stomach. You saw it in them, too. In the tension of Ellie’s jaw when Joel left the house, the relief on both of their faces when you came back into the room after taking a shower. 

But you needed to integrate yourselves into life here. Your leg was already doing better, Joel’s side was healing well. The two of you needed to start contributing and Ellie needed to start school again. The teacher in you was vaguely horrified at the kind of learning loss she must have had over the past few months on the road. And she needed to spend time with kids her own age, not the two middle-aged adults who had been her only real human contact for months. 

“But you’re a teacher!” Ellie protested when you sat her down to talk about it. “If I really need to learn shit that bad, why can’t you just teach me?” 

“Because I’m not the person who should teach you things like English or history,” you replied. “And you need to spend time with kids your own age.” 

“Fuck kids my own age!” She crossed her arms and flopped herself back in her chair at the kitchen table, staring daggers out the window panes in the back door. 

“Ellie,” Joel scolded lightly. “C’mon. You know she’s right. You need to have a life…” 

“I do,” she said. “There’s plenty of shit to do in the house and if I run out of shit in here, I can go in the yard.” 

“We can ease into it,” you ignored her protests. “Tomorrow, we can go to the mess hall for meals, talk a bit with some other people…” 

“I don’t trust other people,” Ellie’s eyes darted to you and Joel before looking back outside. 

“Baby girl,” Joel said gently, leaning onto the table. “You really think we’d send you somewhere that was bad for you? Somewhere you’d get hurt?” 

She glared at you both for a second before she sighed. 

“No.” 

“We’re here for a reason,” he said. “You can have a normal life here. School here ain’t like what it is in the QZ. Give it a shot.” 

“Besides,” you said when she was quiet for a moment. “We’re going to start working soon and you’ll just be in here, by yourself all day. That’s not good for you.” 

She looked at both of you for a moment, her jaw set firm. 

“Fine,” she muttered eventually. “But if it’s stupid as fuck I’m blaming you.” 

It only took her a week and a half to admit she liked school. She’d made friends, including a girl named Dina she seemed particularly excited about. She liked her teachers (“Way better than in the fuckin’ QZ - no offense, Doc.”) and seemed to be excited about what she was learning. 

“Thank fuck we got a kid who’s excited about school,” Joel sighed one morning after Ellie all but ran out the front door with barely a “good morning” on the way past. “Really wasn’t lookin’ forward to her fightin’ us on it every step of the way.” 

“She’ll find something else to fight us on, I’m sure,” you smiled at him over your cup of tea. He smiled a little back and kissed your temple before going to get dressed for the day. You savored it for a moment, the small signs of a quiet, domestic life. You hadn’t realized just how badly you wanted that life. It was like you’d been afraid of wishing for anything quite that much because, in the QZ, when you thought Joel hated you, it was so far out of reach it would only bring you pain to want it. 

You had it here. 

After a few weeks of working at the clinic, your leg was healed but you were feeling restless. You’d never been able to get a call out to Andrew to tell him that you made it here. Every little kid you saw in town reminded you of Elizabeth and Jonah and how much you wished they could grow up in a place like this. There wasn’t a day that went by in the clinic where you almost talked to Andrew out of sheer force of habit. You were providing medical care, Andrew should be there. That’s how it worked. 

“I need to make a trip to the radio tower.” 

You said it simply one evening, when Tommy and Maria were over for dinner. 

“Absolutely not,” Joel said immediately. 

“For a change, I agree with Joel,” Maria said. “We have a strict policy here for a reason…” 

“Why d’you need to go?” Tommy frowned. You smiled a little at him. Of course he’d be the only one here who was maybe on your side. 

“I just need to make one call,” you said. “To Andrew, let him know we made it OK.” 

“It’s too dangerous,” Maria shook her head. “We can’t afford giving away our location…” 

“I won’t say anything about where we are,” you said. “He knew we were heading out west, anyway. And it’s Andrew, he’d never say anything to anybody about where we were. He’s completely trustworthy, ask Tommy.” 

Maria looked to her husband. He shrugged. 

“She’s right,” he said. “Knew the guy for years, I’d trust him with my life. And I know damn well he wouldn’t do a damn thing to hurt her.” 

Maria sighed. 

“Just the one call,” she said. “That’s all?” 

“That’s all,” you said. “I swear.” 

“Fine,” she said. “But that’s it. You can’t share where we are, nothing like that.” 

“Of course,” you said. 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Joel snapped. 

“Nope,” you smiled. “It’s cute that you think you do, though.” 

He quirked his jaw and glared at you but was quiet until the two of you went to bed that night. 

“I ain’t takin’ you out there,” his accent was thick. He was pissed. “After everythin’ we did to get this far and you wanna risk it to call back to fuckin’ Boston…” 

“I’m not asking you to take me,” you shrugged as you climbed into bed. “You need to stay here  with Ellie, we can’t both leave her and we’re not taking her back outside right now.” 

He stared at you for a moment. 

“Who the fuck is takin’ you then?” He demanded. “I know you ain’t stupid enough try to go out there on your own…” 

“Tommy will,” you said. “He already said he would…” 

He got into bed next to you. 

“Am I supposed to be happy ‘bout that?” He asked. 

“No,” you said. “But you should feel good about Tommy taking me since you know he’ll get us there and back in one piece.” 

“Can’t say I’m thrilled about the prospect of you traipsin’ through the wilderness with your ex-boyfriend,” he muttered. 

“So you don’t trust me because I was fucking him eight years ago?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Course I trust you…” He frowned. “Wait, eight years ago?” 

“Yeah?” You said. “That’s when he left, right? So, eight years.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you split up…” 

“Well yeah,” you laughed a little. “But then we kept… well, you know. Did you really not know about this?” 

He was deathly silent for a moment. You could practically feel the rage building in him.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.” 

Joel threw back the blankets and started getting dressed. 

“You can’t be serious!” You got up, too, putting yourself between him and the bedroom door. “You are not going to pick a fight with your brother over ancient history…” 

“It ain’t ancient history if he was fuckin’ my goddamn wife for four years longer’n I thought,” he was seething. “Fuckin’ hid it from me for years!” 

“OK let’s take a breath,” you said, putting your hands gently on his bare chest. “One, you’re going to freak out Ellie. Two, if you go storming over there, you’re going to get us kicked out of town. I had to convince Maria that I wasn’t a succubus who had come to town to steal her husband, she actually likes me now, please don’t ruin that because you’re pissed off over something that happened almost a decade ago.” 

“He lied to me,” Joel snapped. “For years. Goddamn years because he knew, he fuckin’ knew he was doin’ something shitty…” 

“Joel,” you cut him off. “You hated me then…” 

“No,” he shook his head. “Never hated you…” 

“You were acting like you hated me which, for anyone watching, is the same damn thing,” you said, crossing your arms. “Did you expect me to sit at home, never sleeping with anyone, waiting for you to come around?” 

“No,” his jaw tensed. “I expect my brother to keep his hands off my girl, especially if he’s just gonna be fucking her and not treatin’ her right…” 

“We broke up because I couldn’t get over you, you idiot!” You had to try to keep your voice down, which was rare for you. You weren’t much of a yeller. “Not that I’m some kind of prize but you’d already won that one! So no, you’re not going to beat up your damn brother because he was sleeping with me when you wanted nothing to do with me. That’s bullshit. You know that’s bullshit.” 

He looked at you, his brown eyes a bit softer. 

“You really break up because of me?” He asked, hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“See, I guess Tommy didn’t tell you that either,” you rolled your eyes. “But yeah. I warned him when we got together that I didn’t think I could love anyone who wasn’t you. And I was right. So we split up.” 

“Well…” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “That… makes it a bit better…” 

You rolled your eyes. Men.

“So can we go to bed instead of having you mess up our entire life because you’re trying to be an asshole?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed.” 

“Let’s go to bed,” he sighed, pulling you against his broad chest and kissing your forehead.

The two of you got back under the covers and you burrowed into him once he turned out the lights. 

“Feeling better?” You asked, your nose buried in his throat. 

“Still pissed my brother thought he could get away with fuckin’ my wife for years,” he muttered. 

“I’m not your wife,” you said, teasing a little. 

“Hm?” He pulled back to look at what he could see of you in the dark. 

“I’m not your wife,” you said again. “You keep calling me that but, last time I checked, we weren’t married.” 

“Right,” he pulled you back against him. “Just… feel like my wife…” 

“Well you feel like my husband,” you yawned into him and pressed closer. “But ball’s in your court on that one, Miller.” 

It took him less than two weeks. You’d just finished getting Ellie out the door for school, Joel coming in from an overnight patrol at the same time she was leaving. 

“Hey Hon,” you called out to him, taking a sip of tea before starting to wash the pan you’d made hashbrowns in. “I can make you eggs or something if you want, I’m not due at the clinic for another two hours…” 

You turned around and there he was, down on one knee. It surprised you so much you jumped. He smiled a little at that. 

“I had different plans for this 20 years ago,” he said. “Something involving you’n me at that coffee shop where I first saw you and you ordered one of those lavender lattes you like so much. Then I’d take you to a hotel room with a real big tub we could take full advantage of.”

You had to lean back against the counter to keep from falling over, happy tears already catching on your lashes. 

“This ain’t that,” he said. “But it is what you’n me have made and you make it everything, Baby. You do. Wouldn’t be here without you - wouldn’t want to be here without you. Seems like everything good I’ve got I can trace back to you, you’re the best of all of it.” 

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a necklace, a purple gemstone with a small diamond above it where the pendant met the delicate gold chain. 

“It ain’t a ring,” he said. “But I figure a ring’d be in the way at the clinic, anyway…” 

You damn near tackled him, almost falling over in your rush to throw your arms around his neck. 

“Didn’t even ask you yet,” you could hear him smiling as you buried your face in his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” you said voice thick, still holding onto him. “Ask, I’m listening!” 

He laughed. 

“Baby, I love you more than I knew it was possible to love another person,” his breath was warm against your neck as he spoke. “Will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” You were still clinging to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and let himself fall backwards so he was sitting on the kitchen floor instead of kneeling. He pulled back from you enough to kiss you. 

“Good,” he smiled a little. “Because I’m too old to be on my knees that damn long…” 

You got married a few weeks later. It was a small affair, just you and Joel with Ellie and Tommy. Maria officiated and you exchanged matching rings Joel made out of scrap metal that he’d polished to shining. You’d never been happier. 

You toyed with the pendant, watching your husband and daughter swim, smiling a little. This was all you wanted in Jackson. All you’d ever wanted, really. A life with Joel, one that was quiet and happy, one where there was no specter of death and pain. You sometimes couldn’t believe that you’d found it, in the face of everything, you’d finally gotten here. 

“Y’all headin’ back soon?” You turned to see Tommy on horseback, heading back toward Jackson. 

“Time is it?” Joel yelled. 

“Pushin’ four.” 

“Oh shit,” Ellie clumsily maneuvered herself to standing. “I’m supposed to be going to the mess hall with my friends at like 5:30…” 

“Mind taking Ellie back?” You asked. 

“Course not,” he said, waiting patiently as Ellie dried off and pulled on her sneakers. 

“I’ll probably be home late!” She called over her shoulder as she climbed on the back of Tommy’s horse. 

“Have fun!” You watched the two of them ride off back toward town, so distracted you didn’t even notice your husband coming out of the lake until he dripped water on your bare leg. 

“Should put that book down, Baby,” he said, a look that almost dared you disobey. 

“No,” you shook your head, trying not to smile. “Absolutely not, that water has got to be fucking freezing…” 

“I’ll keep you warm,” he said, scooping you up off the blanket you were laying on. You shrieked and dropped your book before it got wet, Joel carrying you into the cold water. 

“See?” You said, teeth nearly chattering as you wrapped your arms around your waist. “Fucking freezing!” 

He tugged you against him and you could feel his hard length through his swim trunks. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his went around your waist. 

“I’ll keep you warm,” he said again, voice low and wanting this time. You smiled a little at that. 

“Oh will you, Mr. Miller?” You asked, the teasing edge to your voice picking up the the needy ache that was rapidly building in you. 

“I will, Mrs. Miller,” he traced his fingers along your arm before he kissed you, his wet curls dripping on your wrists. 

His kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth, curving around your own. He moved his hands lower until they were cupping your ass and he lifted you so you could wrap your legs around him. Once you were secure, he brought a hand around to your front, running his fingers over your aching slit through your swimsuit, pressing the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. 

You moaned and he reached down, freeing his cock and nudging your suit to the side, his thick head against your entrance. He pressed into you and you clung to him as he stretched you open, the feel of him easing the painful neediness that burned inside you. 

“Fuck Baby,” he kissed the top of your shoulder. “Somethin’ about havin’ you in the water…” 

You dug your nails into his skin, not able to help yourself, your breasts pressed flush against him. 

“Probably because that’s how you first had me,” you panted, holding him deep inside yourself. “Really wasn’t fair, you making me lose my virginity to the best sex I’d ever have… Ruined me for anyone else, never had a shot.” 

“Good,” he said, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your ass and leveraging you up his cock before bringing you back down on him with a satisfied grunt. “Like you ruined for me…” 

He moved you up and down his thick length, starting easy and shifting to hard and fast, each thrust forcing your aching walls apart as he made room for himself inside you, his head meeting the place inside you he’d marked as his own that day in the pool almost 25 years before. Your body was clinging to him, your core so tight that it was bordering on pain and you couldn’t stand to have him pull away from you again. You tightened your legs around his waist when he thrust into you, forcing him to stay deep inside as you started to cum around him. 

“Shit, Baby…” he moved his hands from your ass to your lower back, pressing your hips closer so he could push somehow deeper inside you. “Going to…” 

You were too lost in your own orgasm to fully understand the implications of what he said. You’d run out of your birth control stash about two months earlier. The two of you had been practicing the pull out method and keeping your fingers crossed. Now, he was emptying himself into you, his cock throbbing as he filled you with his thick, hot spend. 

You groaned, savoring the feeling of him coming apart inside you. You’d missed it, missed how close to him you felt when he lost control while part of him was a part of you. It took until both of your orgasms had faded for you to realize what just happened. 

“Shit,” you breathed, pulling back from him enough to see his face, his cock still sheathed within you. “Joel, you didn’t pull out…” 

“I know,” he was still catching his breath. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about it…” 

You pressed your forehead to his, acutely aware of where your bodies were joined. You could feel his spend inside of you, his head right at the mouth of your womb when he came. 

“I guess we just keep our fingers crossed,” you sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have held onto you like that…” 

“Never apologize for doin’ that,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “Felt fuckin’ amazing.” 

You laughed once. He was quiet for a minute. 

“But would it be that bad if I got you pregnant?” He asked softly. 

“Joel,” you almost laughed before you realized he wasn’t joking. 

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted to have kids with,” he said. “Life is good here, people have babies here and they’re happy’n healthy. They have a life. It’d be worth it, here.” 

“I’m turning 46 in a few months,” you said. “You’re going to be sixty in a few years…” 

“Yeah,” he said. “But our kid - your kid - would be worth it.” 

You kissed him, soft and gentle, your heart full. 

“Yeah,” you said, your lips brushing his. “Yeah, they would be…” 

He trailed his mouth along your jaw as he brought a hand back around to your front, pressing two fingers to your sensitive clit, his softening cock still inside you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted. “What…” 

“Tryin’ to make you cum again,” he said, voice thick. “Think it takes better if you cum after I leave myself inside you…” 

You moaned and pressed your face into his neck, rocking your hips against him, falling apart in the water at your husband’s touch. 

A/N: One chapter left to tie up a few more loose ends. I hope everyone is enjoying some lovely Miller family time!

Thank you all so much for being here. I truly can't believe this fic is almost done. It's going to kill me a little to end it (I'm still going to, I don't think I can keep writing without a story to serve) and it feels like I just started writing it a few days ago.

For anyone who enjoys my work in general and not just the characters of Joel and Doc, I did start a new TLOU fic today. It's called Yearling and can be found here. I hope you can find something about it to love!

Thank you for spending your time with me and with Doc and Joel. I can't imagine sharing this story without you all. Love you, truly!

Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae@fifia-writes@fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff@encephalitiskat @ashleymsnodgrass @karlinspace

[themerrywhumpofmay]

Merry Whump of May

Spring 2023 Prompt List!

It's May, everyone!! Due to personal and technical difficulties, we're getting the list to you DAY ONE. WOW!

So sorry for the delay, but we have every confidence that despite this short notice, you'll all be able to put out some amazing work this year!

Without further ado, welcome to The Merry Whump of May!

Text ID:

Merry Whump of May

Spring 2023

A month-long whump writing event by @wormwriting and @painsandconfusion.

Extemporaneous style this year-!!

Write, draw, or otherwise create content based on the daily prompts! Participants and completionists will receive badges of honor for their work at the end of the month.

Create original content or fanfiction, all is welcome!

Rules

Tag each day's post with #themerrywhumpofmay, any necessary content warning (eg: #knife), and the day in the following format: #mwmday1)

Adult topics are allowed, but must be well tagged. Send a message to @themerrywhumpofmay if you'd like a second opinion.

Be kind, have fun!

Prompts:

Day One - “No pain, no gain.”

Compass

Haphephobia

Kitchen

Day Two - “Need a ride?

Wrench          

Paranoia         

Club   

Day Three - “You're not looking so hot.”

Lightbulb

Tension

Alleyway

Day Four - “Two birds, one bullet.”

Chess Pieces

Stubborn

Tower 

Day Five - “Do unto others as you would bla bla bla...”

Bow and Arrow

Stalking

Cavern

Day Six - “It's a long story.”

Knife Handle

Gagged

Under the table

Day Seven - “Write what you know.”

Box

Magic

Cell

Day Eight - “Did you read the fine print?”

Circle 

Blinded

Field

Day Nine - “We'll burn that bridge when we get there.”

Collar

Lost

Roof

Day Ten - “Hit the hay.”

Key

Forgetting

Warehouse     

Day Eleven - “Ready set go!”

Plastic bag

Overheating

Restaurant

Day Twelve - “Tabled for Later.”

Thumbtack

Panic attack

Ballroom        

Day Thirteen - “You've made your bed, now bleed in it.”

Sander

Found

Safe Place

Day Fourteen - “Well, well, well...”

Barbed Wire   

Starvation

Drain

Day Fifteen - “The power of god and anime”

Hammer

Over-Exhaustion

Hammer

Day Sixteen - “Take a break.”

Branding Iron

Moonlight

Cemetery       

Day Seventeen - “Going down in flames.”

Pole

Regret

Fireplace

Day Eighteen - “No use crying over spilled blood.”

Cage

Claustrophobia

Ship

Day Nineteen - “Apples and oranges.”

Chainsaw

Surprise

Home Base

Day Twenty - “A taste of your own medicine.”

Zip ties           

Bleeding out  

Office

Day Twenty-one - “Devil's advocate.”

Tome

Desperation

Hiking trail.

Day Twenty-two - “You can lead a bitch to water, but you can't make them drink.”

Origami

Amnesia

Attic   

Day Twenty-three - “Good things come to those who wait.”

Nine-inch-nails

Isolation

Creepy basement

Day Twenty-four - “Bent out of shape.”

Tent Spike

Dragged

Wrong place, wrong time

Day Twenty-five - “It takes two to tango.”

Hot coffee

Doubt

In line

Day Twenty-six - “Hammer time.”

Pocket watch  

Itchy

Waiting room

Day Twenty-seven - “Second mouse get the cheese.”

Knife

Rug burn

Skyscraper

Day Twenty-eight - “A picture's worth a thousand words.”

Chair

Paranoia

Backseat         

Day Twenty-nine - “Lost and Found

Blowtortch

Frostbite

Lake

Day Thirty - “Rain check.”

High heels

Strained

The backroom

Day Thirty-one - “Thin ice.”

Lighter

Chronic pain

Dead end

Alternative Prompt List

Titles  

“Questions? Comments? Concerns? Complaints?”

“Time dies when you're having fun.”

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

“Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.”

Items                                      

Wine Glass

Hydrochloric acid

Magnet

Teacup

Wire

Conditions

Sensory deprivation

Blindfolded

Acrophobia

Failed escape

Distress

Locations

The Middle of Nowhere

Forest

Void

Sidewalk

Shortcut

[new-tella-us]

Shard wrong Mika does to surprise each of the boys? How do they react to the surprise?

Not sure what "shard wrong" means but if Mika were to surprise the boys, it would be dependent on the reason for the surprise. So lets say a birthday surprise. Demons don't really have birthday but they do seem to know the season that they were born in so Mika would ask them to choose a random day from their season and not tell them that it's gunna function as their "birthday".

First off the general surprise for any of the boys would have presents, balloons, food (a lot of food honestly), and just a LOT. The more custom responses would come from the place that Mika would take each boy to.

For James- Since it would be some time in Fall, I can see Mika taking James out for a nice walk, away from all of their responsibilities. The autumn leaves and cool air would bring a nice atmosphere. Then maybe they can get a hotel in a different town, dinner, exploring the town. Yknow a mini vacation. James wouldn't really know how to process all this attention and consideration, he's used to being the person that would plan this sort of event. Though after he gets over the initial shock, he would really appreciate the effort and genuinely have fun.

For Erik- His is in winter so ice skating! The lake that Mika mentions in a Seduce Me Episode would be frozen over so it could be perfect for skating. Then some shopping for some fabric to supply Erik's budding interest in fashion (assuming this is Pre-Demon War) and then finally they go to the skyscraper I talked about from my dream. That could be the day Erik revealed what happened to his eye. Erik would be really happy over this gesture. It's not every day he gets spoiled so rotten. He'll return the favor for her birthday.

For Sam- His is also winter so snowball fight! They go to the park, now covered in a blanket of snow and Mika gets the devious idea to launch a snowball at Sam, unaware of the war she would start in that park. Then they could go to the roof of the Anderson estate like they did in game and watch the sunset. Sam would be too busy having fun to question why Mika would spend time to make him happy... at least until the end of the day, then that's all he can think about. Maybe his mother's teachings about kindness had truth to them.

For Matthew- Our only spring birthday is enjoying his birthday in the butterfly garden! Full of flowers and of course, butterflies of different kinds. Maybe they can even go to the zoo for more animal research. Of course Simon Tabby will cause some mischief to make the day harder but they'll find a way to enjoy it and it ends with some karaoke. Matthew would be elated all day, the garden would remind him of his mother, a little bittersweet but it's pleasant memories. He's got a big smile on his face while also planning his counterattack one day. In his eyes, someone willing to do so much for really no reason is a person worth protecting.

For Damien- He's another fall baby and it would be hard to keep this a surprise from him because mind reading so which Mika concedes to the knowledge that Damien will know about the birthday party, where she puts her focus is in making sure he doesn't find out the big surprise. The day would be walking around the city, window shopping, simple stuff that Damien would like to do just to feed his curiosity about the world. And then, at the end of the day, Mika takes Damien into the woods nearby the house and reveals an overgrown grotto. The lush greenery and the sunset light make it look almost otherworldly. And this place is just for them, the others don't know about it. Damien would be very close to crying. The kindness shown by this girl who has no real reason to be so nice is overwhelming. Plus he's being included in an exclusively human event so it makes him feel more human. Mika is getting a big bear hug after this!

[townofcrosshollow]

This project is currently unnamed and very early, so I'm not sure about sharing it anywhere more official until I've written more and gotten a better handle on it. But I'm happy with it so far. Synopsis: A suicidally depressed man discovers a dying fallen angel in the woods. In nursing it back to health, he not only finds a reason to keep living, but discovers a darkness in his heart he'd never even imagined. Massive CW for suicide, depression, alcoholism, religious imagery, and a little gore.

Every day when the early morning sun was hovering just below the horizon (on the days he wasn't blackout drunk), Samson would put the noose around his neck. He'd originally tied it what, a month ago? It could have been two or three by now, as a cocktail of SSRIs and vodka had started to turn time into a haze of half-remembered days. The calendar on the wall was two years out of date, the clock on the stove blinked all zeroes after a power outage (he didn't have the manual to figure out how to reset it), and his cell phone was at the bottom of the lake out front.

Samson learned how to tie a noose in Scouts. Or more accurately, he figured it out himself fucking around with ropes while the other kids were following instructions. It had been a poor approximation of the real thing as used for generations of cruelty, but he'd tied it secure and gotten it to tighten around another boy's neck. It was a joke, obviously, but they didn't see it that way. That was the last time he went to Scouts, but only the first of many nooses he'd tie over two decades. This one felt nice and strong, secured to a beam in the roof of the old cottage's attic with a stiff hitch knot. It was an old polypropylene rope his daddy used to use to keep the boat in place by the docks. Maybe the reason he hadn't kicked out that stepladder yet was the image of this stupid fucking blue-and-yellow striped rope around his rotting corpse-neck when they found him, bloated and maggot-ridden and leaking fluids all over the attic floorboards. "What a pathetic bastard," they'd say, and they'd be spot on. But the walk to the hardware store was long, and he sold the truck to stock up on liquor, so he was caught between laziness and his last remaining shreds of dignity.

Today that shred went out the window. Samson found her number on the side of the fridge where daddy used to keep all his contacts (daddy always had a shit memory even before he got old, and he passed it on). He tried dialing it into the old landline and only realized he was still paying for that shit when the call connected and her voice came through loud and clear. "This is Cynthia Dawn, I'm not at the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." Her voice was soft like downy feathers and blindingly bright. The voicemail Samson left was probably worth a restraining order. So that noose was looking nicer than ever, and that stepladder was looking flimsier than ever.

Samson would never find out if he was really gonna do it that day, cause in that split second before, as he stared out at the sun rising over the lake, the room went ablaze with a light more effulgent than any he'd seen. In an instant his vision went white, only pierced by soft little pins of red and green and blue, like when you press down on your eyelids with your fingertips. No matter how tight he squeezed his lids closed, hoping to banish the flash, it was like he was staring straight into the sun. Tears started streaming down his cheeks and drenching his beard.

And then it was over. The light retreated out through the attic window, leaving Samson's world dancing with colours like an impressionist painting. He stood there a long moment, heart heating in his neck, mouth dry, wondering if he'd just seen God or if a stun grenade had been silently lobbed through his window. With shaking hands, he slipped the noose off his neck and climbed down off the ladder. He took a few tentative steps towards the window, pressed his hands against the glass, craned his neck to look out. The lake was so placid it was like time stood still, stained golden by the sun's rays spilling out over the horizon. Out to the left side of the cottage, the shed where daddy kept all his fishing shit back in the day. It was untouched, both by him and by whatever caused that light. But off to the right, where the woods sprung up around the old slipway, there was a dying remnant of that glow that bleached the leaves and filled the sky with an odd haze.

He grabbed one of daddy's rifles from the safe and slipped a hunting knife in his jeans pocket before setting off out the back door. The lawn that spread out from the cottage to the road was overgrown, dotted with those little white wildflowers. It would've looked picturesque, if it weren't for the rusting lawnmower, the dying garden twisted with weeds, the dilapidated guest house that hadn't been used in a decade. Actually, come to think of it, this might have been Samson's first outing beyond the cottage walls in weeks- he'd been subsisting on canned food, liquor, and over-prescribed Zoloft for god knows how long.

So for the first time in weeks, he walked down that old paved road until the sign for Fire Route 41 came up on his left, just past the slipway. The gravel road seemed to wind on for eternity through those woods, dotted with the occasional cabin that lay vacant- it was just coming up to the end of the off-season, and soon eager tourists would swarm the lake looking for a fantasy of the life Samson grew up hating. For now, though, the woods sat still apart from the glow that beckoned him.

The light faded as the determined man grew ever closer, threatening to be extinguished any moment and leave him at a loss. A few times, he wondered what he was hoping to find at the source of that divine glimmer. The face of God? Salvation? Some kind of science-fiction portal that could whisk him away from this existence into a more prosperous one? He clutched the rifle against his chest as he stood there on the edge of the woods, the epicenter of the glow just a few dozen feet away. It was waning dangerously low now, no longer capable of blinding Samson, leaving the spot looking like a sun-bleached photograph. Whatever he was looking for, he trudged ever closer to his prize.

And through the trees, in the underbrush, a thing unlike any that Samson had seen revealed itself. At first he wondered if an egret had been shot down, as a layer of downy white feathers was scattered about the trees like berries in spring. Just past the treeline, a pair of massive white wings spread across the ground, broken and twitching like a thing about to die. They glittered like fresh snow as he got closer, rifle raised to put the poor thing out of its misery. And then the wing shifted like a bolt of pain had rushed through it, and he heard a cry of anguish unlike anything bird or beast could produce. Something soft and melodic, like a piano screaming in pain but trapped by the beautiful temperament of its keys. And when those feathers moved away, beneath them, Samson saw a writhing, contorted body of nude flesh punctuated by cuts and scrapes that oozed a thick golden fluid. The bird-thing turned, craning its neck, looking up at the man that towered over it. Its lips were parted as if in prayer, its eyes staring down the barrel of daddy's gun.

Samson lowered the rifle as he looked into the face of God.

Next part

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 9: "Déshonorez-moi, M. Bridgerton"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: In spite of the inconveniences, you joined the Sharmas, Lady Danbury and the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall for the ball, but not without setting a date with Benedict Bridgerton at midnight.

(this chapter contains adult content: smut, virginity loss, unprotected sex, consent is hot, minors dni)

Word count: 6.2K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

"Mr. Bridgerton, welcome!" Lord Carrington exclaimed. "Lady Y/N is finishing getting ready."

"Of course, Lord Carrington, I will wait for her."

He nodded. "I hope everything goes very well on your ball. We, unfortunately, might not be able to attend as my wife has fallen sick."

"Oh, that's a shame," Benedict empathized. "I wish for her to recover very soon, and as for the ball, do not worry. I will tell my Mother."

"Thank you, son."

Benedict smiled at Lord Carrington's words.

"Antoinette, dépêche-toi !" your yells could be heard from the sitting room, making Benedict smile fondly. "We will be late!"

"My Lady, this dress is not very easy to put on!"

Lord Carrington laughed. "One could never fathom a lady and her maid treating each other like sisters, but Y/N certainly treats Antoinette like one."

"She proves to us every day that she is another kind of lady," Benedict noted. "That is probably why she and my sister Eloise tally as well as they do. These two were cut from the same cloth."

"It would be unbearable to have two of those under the same roof," He smiled. "Thankfully, my wife is not the defiant kind, she would be similar enough to Y/N otherwise."

"I am certain Lady Y/N is not that bad."

"Not at all," Lord Carrington rushed. "You will never have one boring day beside that woman. She is quite the artist, any would be surprised by her talents; and her particular ability to spend an entire day at the modiste. She returns with at least a dress each time she goes, and is argumentative enough to contradict the jeweler," he added. "I promise you will have the perfect wife by your side if you keep her."

"Well, I intend to."

He curved his lips. "My wife and I have known her since before she was born… She holds a very special place in our hearts, and we wish for nothing but the best for her. Louisa and I, we are glad it is you."

"Thank you, Lord Carrington."

"You know, Mr. Bridgerton?" He began, looking at Benedict right in the eye. "The environment that she grew up in made her the woman she is today. It took her father a while to… take a look at her, he wanted a son but ended up with the living image of his wife. When he realized that she was going to be the one to take care of everything when he passed, that's when he decided to be the father she needed... And he used to spend hours teaching her how to ride a horse and then he would talk about their home while she painted the sunset. They traveled the world together and were everything to one another, so… take care of her."

Benedict frowned at certain words of his but nodded nevertheless.

"I am here!" you exclaimed running downstairs. "Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton!"

"Good morning, Lady Y/N," Benedict grinned at the use of names while in front of Lord Carrington. "Shall we?"

"Yes, we shall," You accepted his arm. "I am starving and excited for this trip."

He laughed. "Goodbye, Lord Carrington."

"Bye, my Lord!" You smiled. "Take good care of Lady Carrington for me, will you?"

Lord Carrington laughed. "I will."

Once you were finally inside your carriage, you looked at Antoinette.

"Did you tell Théo and Laurent that we will have a long trip today?" you asked and Antoinette nodded. "So, are they rested and are the horses alright?"

"They are, my Lady. There is nothing for you to worry about."

You smiled and looked at Benedict in front of you.

"You look most ravishing in that teal blue dress." he commented.

"I believed my color was apricot orange."

"In all honesty, apricot was the same color you wore the day we met," he reminded you. "Therefore, it holds a very special spot in my brain."

"I didn't remember that," you confessed, feeling warmth rushed into your cheeks. "Thank you for saying that, I am glad that both teal and apricot are my colors."

Benedict grinned. "To be fair, every color is your color. You look equally dazzling in all of them."

"That is, perhaps, because you have not seen me in red just yet. That would be your favorite."

"Very well, you have me looking forward to it."

"Your wishes will be satisfied during the ball." you replied with a suggestive smile.

"I cannot wait, then."

Soon, you arrived at the Bridgerton House, being received by all the siblings and Lady Bridgerton.

"Y/N!" Eloise called you before you joined the rest of the family for breakfast. "I need to talk to you about something."

You frowned. "Of course, Eloise. Can it wait until we are in Aubrey Hall or at least until after breaking the fast?"

She sighed. "Yes. Okay."

You and Eloise went to the dining room and sat next to each other.

"Uh, I hear you are to return to France soon, are you not?" Anthony questioned.

"Yes, I must go back. There are issues at home only I can resolve," you replied. "There is also a visit from the Americas waiting for me."

Anthony looked at Benedict. "You are coming back to London, I assume."

"I am not sure," you said, catching his telepathic conversation with Benedict that was surely about you. "Unless I am given a reason to, I will not. At least, not anytime soon."

"That is unfortunate," Anthony added. "Just know you will always be welcomed by us."

"Thank you," you replied. "Likewise."

Lady Bridgerton sighed. "And this visit from the Americas… Can we know who it is?"

"Oh, my Grandfather," you answered. "He was shocked by my absence and wishes to see me."

"He should come here," Lady Bridgerton proposed. "I have never met him before, I would be delighted to."

"I know, but he just survived a weeks-long trip, so I do not think it is proper for him to travel more," You wrinkled your nose. "You could always join me and spend a few weeks in Versailles until I leave for the Americas with him."

Benedict almost choked on his food. "Are you traveling overseas?!"

You hummed. "I will unless I have a reason not to. Or a companion, too, would be very appreciated."

Eloise looked at you with her eyes wide open, while Daphne and Francesca looked at each other hiding a smirk at your suggestion. Gregory and Hyacinth pretended not to be aware of the conversation but gave each other funny glances. Lady Bridgerton hid her laugh as Benedict, Anthony, and Colin shared surprised stares.

The eldest Bridgerton was well aware that his brother was flirting with you. It seemed very innocent and even encouraged by him at the beginning, but once he heard his Mother talk so highly of you and after having met you, Anthony knew it was time for a serious conversation: Benedict had only met you a couple of weeks previous and already decided to court you? What were his intentions? Did he not think it was an awful idea to marry someone he did not know well enough? Was he aware of the responsibility that would fall on his shoulders once he married you?

The answer to his question was found in that glint of doubt that shone in Benedict's blue eyes, and Anthony knew he had to make his brother give up on marrying you.

Since, of course, Anthony believed it was his responsibility to dictate the future of each of his siblings.

What he did not know was that the reason behind Benedict's doubt was way worse than whatever his fate marrying you and destroying an entire region would be. The remedy was worse than the illness in this case because it involved his brother having some sort of relationship with another man. Particularly his future fiancée's —fictional— brother. And Benedict, clearly, did not want Anthony or anybody else to ever know about it.

"I could always go with you! An adventure would be quite enriching." Eloise intervened.

"I think that is a wond-" Lady Bridgerton began but was interrupted by her eldest son.

"Do not even mention it, Sister," Anthony threatened. "You cannot travel abroad with a stranger."

The dining room fell silent, and Lady Bridgerton was about to interfere and scold his son for treating you that way when you replied.

You raised your eyebrow. "Did I miss something, Lord Bridgerton? Or what have I done to cause the sudden change of attitude toward me?"

"Brother…" Benedict gave him a pointed look.

"Not at all, I just cannot help but realize that you are very insistent on marrying my brother."

"Anthony, stop."

"Mr. Bridgerton, I do not need you to defend me," you told Benedict, then looking at Anthony in an attempt to hide how offended you were. "I have never, not even once, approached your brother myself, Lord Bridgerton. As you should be aware, a woman is not allowed to. I am not desperate, it is just that I must return to France, I do not need anything from you. In case you haven't considered the possibility of me loving your brother, I could easily point it out for you: marriages based on a love match do exist and I was hoping to have one of those for myself. I believe I could find that with Benedict, I did not know you were the one to make decisions for him," You stood up, dedicating him the deadliest glance your eyes could make. "Bon appétit."

You did not hesitate nor looked back, and made your way out of the dining room with the purpose of returning to the Carrington Mansion.

However, Benedict stopped you in the middle of your way to the front door.

"Y/N, wait!"

You stopped with a sigh, trying to regain composure. "What can I do for you, Mr. Bridgerton?"

"Don't call me that, please," he pleaded, taking you by your arm and leading the way to the bureau. "And pay my brother no mind, I beg you, he… Marriage is a very sensitive topic of conversation lately, especially for him. He did not mean to say any of that or to offend you."

"You do not have to apologize in the name of your brother and I do not care for him or his personal issues, Benedict," you answered. "I love you, alright? I do. And I can think of at least ten respectable gentlemen in London, forty more across Europe, and a hundred all around the world who wish to marry me and about whom I couldn't care less when you are the one that I want. I do not want to settle for any of them, I do not care if it is a prince, a king, a duke, a count, a viscount, a lord, whatever, I only want you. If you love me, too, tell me at once or I will go back to France with no reason to return to London."

"I love you, too."

"Think it through, then," you demanded. "If you marry me, you must live in France with me, Benedict. You will have to leave your life here behind for me and while I love you so, I cannot ask you that."

"Y/N, I would follow you to the ends of the Earth, you hear me? I love you like I never thought possible," he whispered. "Don't leave, come to Aubrey Hall with us. Anthony will make it up to you, of that I am sure."

You looked around, noticing you were alone.

His eyes met yours so passionately that it hurt to even break the contact, so you just cupped his face, caressing his features fondly.

And you kissed him as if the world was crumbling down around you.

"I do not care about Anthony, Benedict," you muttered. "He could disown you and still you would have four palaces at your disposal if you stand by me, you would lack nothing, nor would our children or the children of our children or their great-grandchildren. I will be by your side until my very last breath and I will love you through Heaven and Hell. This is your choice."

He kissed you again, this time more urgently and lovingly.

You observed him as he pulled away, looking perfect as ever in his Prussian blue suit with a steel and burgundy waistcoat and a matching cravat of the latter color.

"You are the most enchanting man I have met in my life," you confessed. "And I have met many princes."

Benedict laughed. "You mean to tell me that I am more enchanting than a prince?"

You clicked your tongue. "I meant that you are more enchanting than all those rich, handsome princes and the nobles and the explorers and every man I have known altogether."

He kissed you again, smiling throughout the dance of your yearning lips.

"You are the most endearing, interesting, and ravishing woman I have ever encountered," he complimented you. "You are the only woman who has called him out in front of a crowd apart from Miss Sharma."

"Ah, he must hate me now," you noted. "I will get over it."

"But he will be my best man!"

You shook your head. "No ring, no wedding innuendos."

"Well, no wedding, no kissing," Benedict added. "Two can play that game."

"That is actually very sensible from you, Mr. Bridgerton. Can you imagine what would happen if someone was to catch us with our hands in the bag?!"

He chortled. "What does that even mean?"

"It means if someone sees us in this compromising situation: with rouge all over our faces, hair a mess, and… your cheeks are turning the color of the wine!"

"Then, meet me tonight in the garden, my Lady," he proposed. "When everyone is fast asleep."

"I never said I would still go to Aubrey Hall."

"My dear Mother would be devastated if you rejected her invitation. Not to mention Eloise, who was arguing with me about how I should not keep you to myself the whole time as she needed her friend."

"Meet me at midnight, then, Mr. Bridgerton."

You did not exchange a single word with Anthony for the rest of the day. Not when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, not when you declined their invitation to play Pall Mall, and the siblings —minus Anthony— and Miss Sharma, insisted on you to. Not during tea or dinner. Not ever.

It was now an hour until midnight, and you were on your way to Eloise's room.

"Finally!" she exclaimed in a whisper when you were in front of her door. "I thought you had forgotten."

You shook your head and entered her room. "No, I just had to wait for Antoinette to fall asleep so I could come."

"Alright, that does not matter," she replied, making space for you to sit on her bed. "I have a problem I do not know how to solve."

"If there is any way I can help you, do not doubt I will."

"I know," she muttered. "That is why I am asking you this, I cannot appeal to anybody else."

"Of course, Eloise, tell me."

"The Queen believes I am Lady Whistledown."

You gasped. "What?!"

"I know!"

"Are you?"

Eloise shook her head with a frown. "No!"

"Alright," you replied. "What should we do?"

"She threatened me. My family. I do not know what to do."

"We must find out who Lady Whistledown is and expose her."

"How?! That is what I have tried to do for so long, and-"

"Shh… It is alright, everything will be alright, Eloise," you tried to calm her down. "What if you tell her who Lady Whistledown is, except that it is someone who does not exist?"

"She will find out and it will be worse!"

You nodded. "Tomorrow night, at the ball, we will spread different rumors to every possible Lady Whistledown and see which got printed and tell the Queen it was her."

"The rumors will be spread, how will we even know?"

"Because she would want to spread the one no one else told her about in order to have one novelty! We will find out who it is, then, and tell the Queen."

Eloise sighed. "And what will happen to the real Lady Whistledown?"

"That is not your problem, Eloise… The Queen threatened your family, and they are the ones you must worry about."

"Y/N, could you… not tell anyone?"

Your expression softened. "It will be our secret, El."

"Thank you."

"Always," You smiled and stood up to look at the window. "You know? You should ignore Anthony and come to France with me and Benedict, I hope. It will help you clear your mind… we could tell your Mama that you will find a French husband there; instead, I could take you everywhere!"

"Benedict, you said?" she mocked you.

"Yes. All proofs lead me to believe he will propose before I leave," you answered. "He said that I should not be indifferent to Anthony's hate because he would be his best man. That should be enough."

She made an annoyed grin. "You will marry my brother?"

"A lady can only hope," you said, noticing how Benedict was already waiting for you in the garden. "I should head back to my room, Eloise… We can talk specifics tomorrow."

"Of course. Good night."

"Sleep well."

You practically ran to the garden until you met him standing there, waiting for you with that grin of his. "Ready, my Lady?"

"For what?" you asked, taking the hand he was offering.

"Ready to be mine for a night?"

"Always."

Benedict took your hand in his and drove you to the backyard. "Would you like to fence? I could teach you."

"Oh, Benedict, darling… I have been fencing since I was seven!"

"Yes, of course," he said sarcastically. "Me as well, and allow me to remind you that I am way more experienced than you since I am older."

"Moi, j'adore un rêveur !" you exclaimed.

He gasped, faking offense. "Are you calling me dreamy?!"

"I am indeed, dearest."

"Tu es la femme de mes rêves," Benedict said with a grin. "See? It is not that difficult to compliment others!"

"Ooh, la la, Monsieur Bridgerton… si romantique !" you teased him, getting closer to him. "I will destroy you."

"That sounds most tempting…" he whispered, turning around to get the pair of fencing swords he had left there earlier that day. "This one is for you."

You took it and gave him a look. "The dress might make it difficult for me to unleash my prime level."

He laughed. "I will go easy on you."

"No, do it as if I were one of your brothers."

"Are you sure about that? We are very competitive."

You clicked your tongue, taking a defensive position. "En garde, dearest."

"I will destroy you!" Benedict exclaimed and you chuckled as he hit his sword against yours.

And you started fencing.

You could admit you were having the time of your life, all laughter and you winning more than half of the rounds.

"It is because I have been going easy on you."

You scoffed. "I told you not to!"

"One more, all or nothing at all."

"Only if you wish to lose."

"Confident much?" he questioned. "Alright, how about… a bet?"

"A bet?" You frowned. "What could you possibly bet?"

"I win… you dance with the man of my choice at the ball," Benedict stated. "And I shall not be gentle."

You hummed, then. "Very well, Benedict. I win, you come to France with me despite Anthony's objections"

"Oh, you are serious."

"I always am, dearest," you replied. "En garde !"

You began the final round, and it was, probably, the most competitive you have been a part of.

Benedict started running as he saw you close to winning, and you had no choice but to raise your skirt and chase him down. "That is against the rules!"

"We never said anything about rules!"

"You said fencing, so we must follow the rules of fencing!"

"Once you catch me we can begin to talk about rules!"

You got closer to him, taking advantage of how Benedict lowered his speed to give you a much more fair chance to reach him. "You run too fastly and this dress is making it impossible for me to-"

Benedict, who had turned around to see you complain, felt you fall harshly on top of him as you stumbled.

Both laughed at the situation, the fencing swords long forgotten.

"You look precious under the moonlight," he noted, seeing how the light illuminated your face slightly, and how your short hair fell messy, covering both your faces like a curtain with how close you were to one another. "You certainly do."

You could feel the way your stomach fluttered at his compliments and how flushed your face was. "Shall we call this a tie?"

His hands put your hair behind your ear and then fell on your neck, driving you impossibly closer until your lips met.

"I believe you mentioned something about no kisses, Mr. Bridgerton," you mentioned once your lips parted. "Not that I am complaining."

Benedict kissed you again, this time more urgently. You could taste the craving in his lips and feel the need in his touch.

"You will not believe half the things I see inside my head," he confessed, standing up and helping you stand up, too. "Your lips are my addiction, Lady Y/N, and I long for you every second that we are apart."

"I wish to never be apart from you," you whispered, taking his hand in yours. "I wish to grow older with your hand holding mine and to watch you sleep every night."

He smiled and kissed you once more. "I love you."

The next kiss was better. Benedict pushed you against the nearest tree and you felt as if your soul would leave your body any second at how… unearthly the experience was.

An unfamiliar warmth took over your entire being, and the need for more would not leave you breathing in peace. More, more, more… your body chanted, but more of what?

"I feel…" you breathed out when he left your mouth and went to your neck, his hands holding your waist tightly against him. "What is this that I am feeling?"

He grinned. "Have you never been taught about this?"

"About what?" you asked with a whimper.

"My, my, Lady Y/N, anyone would think that with that know-it-all attitude of yours, you were aware of all the ways two people can make the other feel when they are alone." Benedict smirked.

"What does that mean?" You sighed, feeling his hand go to the bare part of your back and caress you there.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded eagerly. "I do."

"Alright," He kissed you tenderly on your cheek. "This is something important, so you must be sure about it before we proceed."

"How so?"

"Because it is something that a lady like you only does once she marries."

You made a confused grin. "Like kissing?"

He chuckled. "It is… more than that. However, it is related to kissing. You kiss the other person when you do it."

"So it is like… advanced kissing?"

"Yes, you could say that," Benedict laughed. "It requires us both to be nude."

Your heart started beating faster and you felt your cheeks warm. "Nude? Like in the paintings?"

"Just like that," he replied. "And we would touch each other. I promise you that I will make it the most enjoyable experience if you allow me."

"Would you enjoy it as well?"

"You have no idea," Benedict smiled, kissing your forehead. "But this is not something you should take lightly, so you must be certain you want to do it."

"Why do people do this?"

Benedict pursed his lips. "Two reasons, actually."

"Two?" you questioned.

"Firstly, and that is why ladies like you only do it after they are married, so the woman can be with child."

Your eyes widened. "I do not want to be with child yet!"

"I know," he conceded. "That is why we will be careful..."

"Could there- could there be consequences?"

He nodded, stroking your hair. "Only if someone sees us."

"Then we must hide somewhere to make sure we are not to be seen." you answered surely.

"Are you completely sure you want to do this, then?"

"I am. I want to do it."

"Shall we go to my bedchambers?"

"Yes."

You kissed again, this time shortly. "You cannot tell a soul about this."

"You know I will never tell." you said, taking his hand.

Benedict drove you silently through the hallways of Aubrey Hall until you arrived at his bedchambers.

He opened the door and invited you in. "Are you completely sure, then, my dear?"

"I am," you answered. "Could you call me something other than dear? Everyone calls me dear: the Carringtons, your Mother…"

"Mmm… does my heart sound good?" he wondered between laughter.

"It is perfect, mon cœur." you confirmed, taking a look around his room.

[My heart]

"Shall we?"

You nodded in front of him and waited for him to do the first move.

So Benedict kissed you softly on the lips and then pulled apart. He spun you so your back was facing his front, and started kissing your neck while playing with the buttons of your dress. "May I?"

"Yes…"

He unbuttoned the dress and soon it was discarded on the cold floor. Your bare skin got goosebumps under his burning, delicate touch. Then, he undid your corset and put it away, driving his hands to your now-uncovered breasts.

You shook under his touch, resting your head on his chest as his hands did wonders on your breasts. "It is cold, why do I feel so warm… there?"

"Do you like this?"

You nodded.

"That is why, my heart… Now, do you like what we are doing?"

"I do," you answered truthfully. More, more, more… you heard again the chants of your body and decided to indulge. "Is there any way you could give me more?"

"More of what?"

"I do not know, I just… I want more." you hurried to say.

"Anything you please," Benedict left your breasts unattended to put his hands on the sides of your undergarments. "May I?"

You nodded, and he complied.

The cold air meeting your warmth was the first feeling you met with, and the way you shuddered wasn't familiar in the slightest.

"Is this normal?" you wondered while raising each leg from the floor so he could take off your undergarments while kissing your bare back.

"Is what normal, my heart?"

"It is too hot and I feel something… Can I touch it there?"

He breathed out with eagerness. "Yes, you can. Come here, spin around, my love."

You did as he told you and with the most flushed expression, you put your right hand between your thighs, meeting with an unusual, heated moisture there. A loud sigh left your lips. "Why is it wet?" you asked, feeling embarrassed without knowing why.

"It is normal, you mustn't worry," he answered, taking your hand in his and sliding your wet fingers into his mouth. He released them, kissing your knuckles before letting go, fighting the ache that hardened between his thighs. "That means that you are enjoying yourself, just like I am."

You cleared your throat. The sight, though unfamiliar, awakened many inexplicable feelings of intimacy you couldn't quite decipher. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much." Benedict said, kissing your cleavage.

"But I have not touched you yet and you are still clothed."

"But I am seeing you, touching you, and kissing you," he lowered his kisses to the valley between your breasts. "I enjoy that. I enjoy sharing this with you."

A shaky breath escaped from your lips as your hands went to his shoulders for support. "Really?"

Benedict hummed. "It is most pleasant, as I have been told, when you do it with someone you love."

You let out a soft chuckle at his words. Looking down, you met with his blue eyes and sweet smile, and when you saw his burgundy tie, you were more conscious of the fact that he was still fully clothed.

"I wish to see you." you demanded, untying his cravat delicately.

He shuddered at your command. "Anything."

He stood up now and started unbuttoning his waistcoat. His white linen blouse, with the sleeves already rolled up, came next; his black trousers followed, and soon, it was the two of you wearing as much as you did when you were brought to this tempting world.

Your finger went to his torso, focusing on his beauty marks and connecting them like constellations. Benedict exhaled with difficulty, long gone the ease one must have for having breathed their whole life, his hands resting restlessly on your hips.

"I have never seen a man quite like you," You left a soft kiss on his chest. His forehead met yours and his eyes remained closed. "Dishonor me, Mr. Bridgerton."

That seemed to be his cue, a trigger for his wildest desires because when you least expected it, he pushed you against the wall and kissed you as if he fed off of it.

Lust, just like time, turned the daylight heavens in his eyes into the dark midnight sky you loved under.

He carried you, making your legs wrap around his body and your skin merge with his, never not kissing you, not even for the briefest second.

"I am desperately in need, Benedict. Please, do something!" you begged, holding onto his arms, feeling his smirk against your neck like a kiss. "Something, anything."

Suddenly, the tip of his fingers met your core. You flinched at the intrusion but did nothing other than moan his name. "Something like this?"

He started drawing circular shapes on you: slow like torture, steady like a heartbeat, sweet like honey.

"Oh," you moaned. "What are you doing to me? Why do I… feel like this? Oh, God…"

Benedict grinned. "Are you enjoying it, my heart?"

"Yes." you replied, breathing quickly and closing your eyes. Instinctively, you spread your legs further to give him better access.

"Look at me," he told you. "Every second, you shall be looking at me."

You nodded, opening your eyes, squirming under his touch. He explored you, he loved you, he made you feel so good.

"Benedict, what is…" you whined, moving your hips at the same rhythm as his fingers. "I need more."

He kissed your forehead and increased the speed of his movements, putting one of his fingers inside you.

It was a sensation you could have never imagined, it was better than what you expected when Benedict promised you would enjoy this. You felt the need to scream his name, but knowing Colin's bedchambers were just next door, you decided to cover your mouth with your hands.

His forehead was pressed to yours and your eyes locked to each other's while your body exploded in a wave of delight, his hands didn't leave you unattended until he was certain you were done.

"What was that?" you asked him, tone a little tired.

Benedict kissed you. "That was a little bit of me dishonoring you."

"Clearly," You laughed. "Does it feel similar for you?"

"Well, it works a little differently for men."

"How come?" You frowned, getting closer to him and feeling something hard pressed against your thigh. "Wait, is that you?"

Benedict shuddered. "Can I show you?"

"Yes, please."

He nodded. "Alright, this might hurt a little, so I will need you to say no if you are not certain. You must be comfortable at all times and should not feel obliged to do something you do not want to, alright?"

"Will it hurt for long?"

"Only at the beginning, my heart, though I promise I will do my best to make sure it does not hurt," he promised. "Then, it will feel good."

"I would like to try."

"Remember to stop me if you wish to stop."

"I will," You kissed him gently. "I want you to feel good. Please, teach me how."

Benedict smiled. "You could touch me like I touched you."

"Okay," you agreed. You kissed him, and your body got closer to his. Your hands traveled his arms softly, then his chest, then going lower. Once your fingertips reached under his belly button, he flinched. "Did I hurt you?"

"On the contrary," you whispered. "Continue if you wish."

Your fingers went lower until you stumbled upon his cock, and Benedict's breath hitched. "Can I… touch you there?"

"Only if you are comfortable."

You looked down and focused on him. Under the dim moonlight, you could not see much, but you could distinguish its length, so you traced his silhouette. He moaned loudly at your touch, and you smiled proudly. "Guide me, please."

Benedict covered your hand with his and made your hand hug him, then guided you up and down slowly. Some moisture joined your movements, making it easier for you.

"Come here," He stopped you, then making you straddle him but not getting your bodies to meet yet. "I shall get inside you now. Are you still sure you want to do this?"

"Is this the part that hurts?"

"Yes."

You nodded. "Alright, I am ready."

He looked you right in the eyes and used his right hand to drive you closer to him until you were kissing softly. Then, Benedict put his hands on your hips and lowered you until your bodies met.

The pained sigh was muffled by the kiss you and Benedict shared, the ache was tarnished by the growing bliss, and you couldn't contain the voices imploring for more.

"More," you begged. "I need-"

"Let me know if you want me to stop." he said, switching positions.

"I will." You nodded, looking at him in the eyes.

And then, it began.

If you thought nothing could be better than what you had just experienced, you were definitely wrong.

It was all soft at the beginning, but then it grew desperate and needy for the both of you. Your hands were intertwined and your eyes locked as he fulfilled his promise of making you feel good.

The kiss was never-ending, and it got to the point in which you did not know where you were, you just knew you were together and nothing else mattered.

Suddenly, Benedict pulled away, but you were in such a state of bliss after you felt your body shattering and coming back you were not all that aware as to why. Not that you cared with the way you felt right now.

"I will be back in a second." he promised as he stood up, kissing your forehead before leaving the bed. You looked at the window from the bed, admiring the night sky.

Benedict returned and started cleaning you up delicately, not saying a word. You didn't need to as the silence was peaceful and comforting.

Before he could lie next to you again, you wrapped a blanket around yourself and went to the window sill, where you sat and Benedict soon joined you. He was supported on the wall and you on his chest, both admiring the stars and the moon.

"I love summer nights," you commented. "And the good company makes it even better."

He chuckled. "Am I a good company, my Lady?"

"There is no one I would rather be with right now."

"I sure hope so," He smiled, giving you a short kiss on your temple. "I do not think Lord Weber would have done any of this."

"He wouldn't have dishonored me, you are correct," you joked. "I am glad it was you who dishonored me."

Benedict chortled, caressing your arm with his fingertips. "I cannot just dishonor you and get away with it, can I?"

"You cannot! What would happen to us if someone opened that door and saw us in a position as compromising as this one?"

"We would be forced to marry!"

"What a tragedy, Mr. Bridgerton!" You dramatized, turning around to kiss him on the lips.

"Marry me." he asked, an enamored sigh leaving his lips.

You looked at him with a small smile. "That sounds incredibly impersonal and not worthy of a yes from a lady like me."

Benedict trapped your lips into a last kiss for the night, doing nothing to hide that huge and adoring smile of his. "You have absolutely captivated me, my heart, and I am afraid I am irredeemably in love with you. For you, I would run from London to Versailles, swim from France to the Americas and back; I would give away everything that I have and renounce all that I am. You are my inspiration, my muse, and I am here to swear to you that I will love you, cherish you, and honor you until my very last breath. I have been trapped under your spell since the first time my eyes met yours, and I shall remain bewitched until I am on my deathbed. Will you marry me, my heart, my Lady, my love?"

"I will marry you, Benedict Bridgerton," you answered with an ecstatic smile. "And you better put a ring on my finger before you dare tell a soul."

"Cross my heart."

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Climate neglect is destroying entire cities in Brazil

The bleak scenario in a state devastated by extreme rains brings a reminder to the world: acting now will be much easier and cheaper than when the worst impacts of the climate crisis arrive

May was a month of sadness and dismay in Brazil. Extreme rainfall left two-thirds of the state of Rio Grande do Sul, which has a territory larger than that of the United Kingdom, underwater.

To date, 161 people have died and 81 are missing due to flooding caused by the unprecedented flooding of rivers and lakes in this state in southern Brazil, bordering Argentina and Uruguay. Almost 600,000 people lost their homes and more than 80,000 had to be rescued from rooftops, on boats or in security force helicopters.

Besides, more than 12,000 pets had to be saved from death by rescue teams, including a horse that was left stranded on a roof and became a symbol of the surreal impact that a tragedy like this represents.

The images and testimonies of those affected are heartbreaking. At 350.org, we also had employees and partners personally affected by the disasters. An indigenous leader who, two years ago, played a fundamental role in the fight to end a coal mine project in the region and thus helped prevent the environmental degradation of a huge area, lost her home and saw her neighborhood destroyed. A freelance colleague in the Communications area had to hurriedly leave her apartment, on the first floor of a building in the state capital, because the water level accumulated in the street rose so quickly that it reached the height of her doors and windows. Fortunately, both of our friends are safe, but the scare and damage caused to them – and the hundreds of thousands of people affected – will last a long time.

The individual effects of the tragedy are also reflected on a collective scale, and the economic impacts will be felt not just at the state level but nationally. One of the country’s main financial analysis companies, MB Associados, estimates that the disaster will reduce Brazilian GDP growth by up to 0.5 percentage points in 2024, due to the massive destruction of infrastructure and the loss of goods and services in Rio Grande do Sul. Company analysts say a climate event has never caused so much economic damage in Brazil.

And it is worth remembering that, as often happens in times of great collective loss, poor communities and families made up of black and indigenous people were disproportionately harmed. Environmental racism and climate injustice have once again become clear.

Continue reading.

[14dayswithyou]

hi. /homosexually 🥺❤️ i couldnt pick one so just do your favourite !! ♡♡ also lowkey half of these are angst fuel LMFAO?

for Leon.

"feelings change, but mine about you wont" / "i am so exhausted, but i'd sleep so much better with your arms around me"

for Jae

"I'm always going to support you. without even a second thought, I'll be there when you need me. I want what's best for you." / "let's sleep together under the stars."

for You <3

"hey, guess what? i love you" ♡♡♡♡

Soft spot prompts | No longer accepting !!

Omgggg Puppy hiiiii >:3 <- with homosexual rizz <3 I did them all because you are my favourite + I love being Silly teehee

Under a "read more" because it got long!!

001.

"Just like old times, yeah?"

It was probably illegal to camp out in the woods near the lake you used to frequent as kids, but Leon was adamant on holding onto your childhood tradition ever since he returned from overseas. The Davis family always enjoyed camping with you — even as kids — but the fact that Leon had you all to himself this time made the moment even better.

This time, his dad wasn't around to ask if you wanted to go fishing. This time, his mum wasn't popping in every 10 minutes to see if you wanted any snacks. It was just you and Leon; with your limbs tangled together inside of a swag that felt far too big for just two people.

A beat passes as you both stare at each other, before the soft pitter patter of rain bounces off the the tent roof and breaks the silence. And just like how the sky opened up, Leon finds himself wanting to speak what's on his mind as well.

"My feelings for you never changed either. Even when I was back in Australia, all I ever thought about was you." He shuffles closer, "But we're reunited again, aren't we? This time, I'm not going anywhere. I belong by your side."

Your matching bracelets intertwine once Leon reaches out for your hand — much like your feelings for each other.

002.

"Haha! That one kinda looks like Teo and his pointy nose!"

It was certainly uncomfortable laying in the back of Jae's beat-up truck, but his company made it all worth it. He'd thrown in a couple of pillows and a wooly blanket over the both of you earlier, but it was only now that you started to feel the biting sting of Colrand Bay's Autumn breeze.

But the stars were pretty and the cityscape view made it all better.

"Y'know, we are sooo going to get kidnapped later..." Jae cracks a joke from beside you, "But I'll have you to support me, right? I'll offer our kidnapper my left kidney and you'll offer to pay ransom?"

Support. That's all he's ever wanted from his friends. Someone who'd be there to love and accept him for all that he was — flaws and all. Jae didn't know if he truly felt like himself yet, but he was grateful to have you by his side for every step of the way. And he was determined to do the same for you.

"Thank you, Nate. I mean it."

003.

"Omgggg wait, really? That's sooooo crazy!!"

Deciding that your words were truthful, Saint puts the unused bone saw away and unchains your arms from the table. You finally get a moment to stretch out your tired limbs, as she casually skips her way to the mod cell door to unlock it and let the light in.

The rest of the mods are waiting for you upstairs, obviously used to seeing this kind of behaviour already.

"It only took like, two days for the Stockholm syndrome to kick in! That cute doctor said it'd take at least five..." You can hear her ponder from the staircase, "But aaaa it doesn't matter!! I love you too!! ^^ Wanna go to the beach to celebrate? Maybe Jae and Leon will be there!!"

Firstly, how the fuck did they say "^^" out loud... And secondly, why is Emile in her basement as well.......

[philliam-writes]

on that tree i'll carve our names (01)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem! Hufflepuff Reader; Sebastian Sallow x Male MC

Synopsis: You have never believed or trusted in Prophecy, not with the way you were brought up. Paying attention to Prophecy is like tossing real diamonds in the air mixed with shards of broken glass. The grab is rarely worth the injury. But when the new fifth year arrives, so do trouble and mischief, and you're inadvertently thrust into adventures and secrets too grand to deal with by yourself. Yet with hardships come friendships, and while you learn to trust the new student with your life, you're less keen on trusting the cunning Sallow boy or the quiet Gaunt heir. Still waters run deep, as they say, and you can't shake off the feeling something dark hides at the bottom of those white-veiled unseeing eyes.

content: canon divergence, fighting prophecy, enemies to friends, reluctant soulmates, platonic soulmates, slow burn, basically HL but Reader isn't MC, angst, hurt and comfort, Sebastian and Reader can't stand each other (until much later), they're all mean, because they're starving for love, will love and kill for each other, dark(ish) ominis, satisfying female rage, also Quidditch because screw Black

notes: [02]

words: 5.9k

a/n: this is so self-indulgent, i don't even know if i'll keep this up. but right now i need to get this out of my system, so here is tragic platonic soulmates with delicious slow burn for borth of them and my favourite slytherin boys. hope you enjoy!

01: hawthorn makes the heart burn

The new student has been at Hogwarts for only a week, and already you cannot stand him.

It’s got nothing to do with the fact that he is a Slytherin. You have never been a fan of the sorting system, because even if it is partly at fault for sticking kids into boxes and teaching them to think in categories, the students surely don’t make it better living by these stereotypes. Not all Slytherins are bad people, just like not all Gryffindors are brave; not every Ravenclaw is a genius, and not every Hufflepuff is a saint, e.g.: You.

“You’re joking! Three Sickles and fifteen Knuts for a Pocket Sneakscope? That’s way too expensive!”

Lifting your eyes from the list of gadgets you need to buy on your next trip to Hogsmeade, you raise an eyebrow at the second-year Ravenclaw boy. He’s taller than most of his fellow housemates, shows signs of a long, hawkish nose and has pimples scattered on his cheeks like a Leaping Toadstool Cap. You can’t really remember his name. Freddy or Fred or August, maybe.

This early in the morning before classes start, the air is especially thick with the smell of late-summer: sweet buddleia in full bloom, the rich green leaves of trees as they sway gently in the wind. Mist hangs low in the valley and over the Great Lake, a milky curtain hiding its resident gently poking long tentacles into the warm sun. The castle is only slowly waking up after a short night—the last grace of long summer days approaching their end as October draws closer.

A beautiful landscape you can hardly enjoy with the second-year’s whiny voice buzzing around your head like an annoying mosquito.

“Look, you wanted a Pocket Sneakscope, I got it for you,” you say and unhitch yourself from the cool stone pillar, one of many holding up the roof of the Viaduct Courtyard’s passageway. “It’s not my fault the underground path is infested with spiders.”

Damned Weasley could have warned you though. You have been using the secret passage under the humpbacked, one-eyed witch leading to the cellar of Honeydukes since your second year when you spied Garreth Weasley sneak through it, and since then you both agreed on staying out of each other’s way as long as nobody rats out the secret passageway to the faculty. He gets to obtain whatever he needs for his weird concoctions, and you get to continue your little business of providing first and second years whatever they want from Hogsmeade since they can’t go themselves yet—all for a certain price. It makes trips to Hogsmeade easier when you can’t use your broom, though the occasional acid spit launched your way is less favourable than the breathtaking view of Hogwarts towering majestically as the sun sets, throwing the whole castle in stark, black contrast against the warm, orange sky.

“Unless you want someone else to get you stuff from Hogsmeade,” you continue with a shrug. “Good luck finding them though.” You move to put the Sneakscope back into your pocket, barely managing to keep on a neutral expression when Freddy or Fred or August, maybe, gasps as though you have reached into the Ravenclaw’s house point hourglass, grabbed a handful sapphires and chucked them at the Headmaster.

“It’s just—it’s just a whole Sickle more than I can spend this month!” he protests, but judging by the quiver of his voice he’ll eat out of your hand in no time.

You give your brightest smile. “Not my problem.”

The Ravenclaw-boy fumes, but when you hold out your hand, he slaps the coins into your open palm, his pale face blotched red with fury.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” You hand over his Pocket Sneakscope and watch him stamp off towards the double doors leading inside the entrance hall. He stops with a small, pale hand on the bronze doorknob, turns around as by his touch alone the doors squeal open with the magic that recognises students entering. “You are the worst Hufflepuff at this school!” he shouts and quickly dashes inside.

You don’t know why he felt the need to point it out. It’s not as though people don’t know who you are: the Hufflepuff who burnt down the left greenhouse in her second year when trying Incendio after agreeing to a bet; the Hufflepuff who broke a Ravenclaw’s nose because said Ravenclaw accused her of cheating in Defence Against the Dark Arts; the Hufflepuff who smoked Silverweed in a corner under the Great Staircase in her third year to see if it would yield any relaxing effects; the Hufflepuff who actually cheated on her very first exam in History of Magic—all in all the Hufflepuff who really should have been sorted into Slytherin on her first day, according to everybody else. Except the Slytherins have no love left for you because you wear yellow.

It is a wonder you have not been expelled yet, surely to do with the fact that despite it all, one student outshines your delinquent record. Your grades are passable, neither at the very top nor bottom, though you do have a knack for quickly learning spells and charms. What keeps you in somewhat good grace is being the Beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team—and what a Beater you are: ruthless and quick with strong arms. Maybe not as fast as Slytherin’s Captain on a broom, but you feel comfortable enough up in the air. All your problems seem so much smaller when you soar through the sky. Speaking of Quidditch, a Gryffindor second-year asked you to get a fake Snitch to practice for the team’s try-outs. Hopefully the Spintwitches Sporting Needs opens within in the next week; you’re in need of a new broomstick servicing kit, preferably before practice starts.

You move towards the Great Hall before they clear out breakfast. You did ask Javi to save up some Pumpkin Pastries for you, but he’s been in a foul mood since yesterday because Peeves destroyed a bust in the Astronomy Tower and he had to take the brunt of it. But while you’re crossing the courtyard, you notice a shadow standing under a wide archway, tall and sinewy, though body shapes are usually hard to guess under the loose, floaty school robes. Yet you know that despite looking lanky, this boy is nimble and quick, and his presence is utterly unappreciated—that is how the circle closes; the reason why you can’t stand him.

Even from this distance, you can make out Callum St. Jude’s pale grey eyes—they stand stark against his unruly map of ink-black hair. Paired with skin pale as moonlight, he looks like one of Hogwarts’s residual ghosts.

You feel your face turn into a scowl. It seems that no matter where you are these days, he is lurking nearby. At first you thought he was spying on you to check out the competition for tonight’s Crossing Wands duel. It is the finale after all. But when you had confronted him about it, catching him on his way down to the Slytherin dungeons in the Grand Staircase after your shared Charms class, he had considered you with a blank expression. “Who are you?” he’d asked, looking down at you from a few steps above.

Behind him, trailing him like a shadow since day one, Sebastian Sallow had sniggered. “Seems like you already have admirers,” he’d said with his insufferable haughty voice. “Though that Hufflepuff is more trouble than she’s worth.”

You were about to show him trouble, face hot with shame, when Javi hauled you up, hands under your armpits, and carried you away as if you were a sack of potatoes. “You can’t get detention now, it’s still the first week,” Javi had said mildly.

At least it would have been worth it. It would have been so satisfying to blast that cocky grin off Sallow’s face, to silence St. Jude’s little mocking huff. You firmly believe St. Jude is suffering from the worst ailment to date: Main Character Syndrome.

The symptoms have been evident since his first day: joining Hogwarts as a fifth-year, arriving late to the Sorting Ceremony due to a dragon attack, besting Sallow on his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson (though you can hardly criticise him knocking Sallow down a peg) and mastering every new spell and charm as though it is as easy as breathing. Just last week, he fought off a grown troll and defended Hogsmeade, and now the whole school doesn’t shut up about it.

It is with eager anticipation that you await tonight’s Crossed Wands’s finale. Your fingers practically itch to draw your wand and Flipendo him just to juggle him around a little and wipe that blank expression off his face. He is beautiful, you hate to admit, feeling a sour taste in the back of your throat, but he’s using that face in all the wrong ways. He has the sort of face they’d probably frame in a museum, the kind that’s unbelievably pretty, but unattainable.

“Preying upon second years this early?” St. Jude tuts. “It seems there really is no rest for the wicked.”

“Looks as though I am already punished for it,” you grumble. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

St. Jude cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “Interesting way to talk to someone you fancy.”

“I do not,” you press out between gritted teeth, shouldering past him as he steps into the entrance hall first, “fancy you.” You hope the Thunderbrew potion will be the first you’ll learn in Potions class. Watching St. Jude getting struck by lightning would lighten your mood considerably.

“For someone who pretends not to be interested in me,” he continues, ignoring you, “I see you around an awful lot.”

You consider tripping him as you two ascend the stairs. “Yes, that seems to be the very problem.”

“Won’t make me take it easy on you tonight though.” Since he is nowhere near a gentleman, he doesn’t hold the door open for you and it almost slams in your face. “I always duel to win.”

“I hope you don’t mind spending the next couple of days in the hospital wing.” You bump into his shoulder, hard, when you finally enter the Great Hall and immediately aim for the Hufflepuff table to the far right of the hall without another glance at him.

The hall is buzzing with students, the air filled with the tasty smell of crispy bacon, grilled leak, slightly burnt toast with melting butter on top. It isn’t as crowded as at lunch or dinner time—most students tend to skip breakfast to either sleep in after a long study night or use the hour before classes to finish assignments and homework.

The ceiling shows a clear blue sky with thin clouds drifting past lazily. You slide in the free seat next to your fellow Beater near the front of the table. Javier García is shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth, his bright brown eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet. In your first year, you didn’t pay much attention to him. If you look up Hufflepuff Student in any dictionary, it will show Javi’s face—a hard-working, loyal individual that always reminds you of a golden retriever until he steps on the field and turns into a pit bull from a fighting ring. Every summer he returns to his muggle family where he helps tending to the crops and fields, evident in his arms the size of tree trunks used to heavy lifting. Perfect for hitting Bludgers at opponents and slamming them off their brooms.

You pour yourself coffee and begin spooning slabs of apple-cinnamon-oatmeal into a bowl.

“Ranrok’s Loyalists have put up more camps around the Hogwarts highlands,” Javi says, mouth half-full. “It looks like they’re moving closer towards Hogwarts.”

“Why would they come to Hogwarts? There’s nothing here.”

“The castle has tons of secrets still uncovered. Why wouldn’t they try and get inside?”

“As if they’d manage to get through the defences. Hogwarts is impenetrable.” You take a long sip from your cup, hoping the caffeine kicks in fast. “No one’s going to get inside. Forget about the goblins. Did you see the Quidditch board? Our first game this season is against Gryffindor.”

Javi groans. “I hate their Seeker. Too small to hit with a Bludger, too quick to slam off the broom. We might as well throw in the towel.”

“Don’t let Captain hear that or she’ll turn you into a fox and wear you as a collar.” The Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain, Mary J. Lockwood, is sweet in pretty much every aspect except when it comes to Quidditch, and she never hesitates making you take the brunt of it. You’ve stopped counting how often she’d condemned you to run laps around the field as punishment for talking back or disrupting practice.

You finish breakfast and quickly drop by the common room to get your parchments and books for Divination class, hoping it will let time pass quickly until evening. But while staring for roughly an hour into the lazily swirling fog inside a crystal ball without an answer to how this year’s Quidditch season will end, time seemed to move slower than a snail. After dozing off twice and woken up by Adeleide Oakes’s pointy elbow to your ribs before Professor Onai could notice, the class finally ends.

Next up is Herbology and after that you’ve got two free periods until lunch and then end the day with double Potions. It’s a slow day for a Wednesday, and you can’t wait until practice starts in October to give you some change from sitting for hours in the library and going through dusty old tomes or watch the first and second-years getting roped up into playing Gobstones in the common room by the older students, filling it with the putrid smell of its foul liquid. You just enjoy being outdoors more. Which is why Herbology is somewhat fun, even if you and Javi prefer to pass time by betting on who can stick their finger closest to a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, earning a scornful side glance from Leander Prewett.

You promised Samantha Dale and Nellie Oggspire to work on the assigned group project for the essay on Ghouls for DADA during your free period, but when you’re about to set out to the Great Hall to grab a few snacks before going through the list of books you’ll need from the library, Professor Garlick appears before you suddenly as though sprouting from the ground like a flower.

“Oh, delightful, my dear, there you are!” she beams. Small brown parcels flutter around her head like butterflies. “Here is the delivery for Mr. Ollivander, if you’d be so kind and bring them to him now.”

Just in case, you look behind you. Nobody there on the stairs leading up to the central hall. Even Javi has made himself scarce already. She really is talking to you.

“Why me, Professor?” Someone must have hit you with Obliviate. You can’t remember having agreed to any favour for her.

“Oh? Frederick Gustave told me you would offer! Quite an attentive, nice boy! He will grow into a splendid Ravenclaw student one day!” Frederick Gustave? In Ravenclaw? You don’t know anyone called Frederick or Gustave or—the thought strikes you like lightning. Freddy, Fred or August. “All you need to do is bring these little parcels to Mr. Ollivander in Hogsmeade. These are magically nourished woods he has requested, and I am quite eager to see the results for myself.”

With a flick of her wand the parcels change course and begin to circle around your head before you can even begin to explain that this is a huge misunderstanding. She pats your cheek affectionately and twirls around, descending the stairs back to her flowery domain.

Javi is waiting for you at the top of the stairs, ignoring your scowl as he whistles the tune of The School of Jolly Dogs. His face lights up. “Since you’re heading to Hogsmeade, can you bring me some white Chocolate Frogs? Mine hopped out of the window last night because Arty forgot to close it.”

You answer with a rude hand gesture and stomp out of the hall, heading for where you keep your brooms stashed in the Hufflepuff locker room.

~ ⋆｡°✩ ~

The flight to Hogsmeade takes longer than usual. Every time you move too fast, the parcels begin to cry and whine like little abandoned ducklings until they catch up to you. Other than that, it is a beautiful morning as the sun keeps dipping in and out between wispy smears of clouds on the wide blue canvas. The tiny, homey town is alive with witches and wizards scurrying around to get their errands done. The novelty and excitement from visiting Hogsmeade in your third-year has worn off after two years, but it’s still a nice change from the dark school corridors and unending spiralling stair cases.

You leave your broom leaning next to the entrance of Mr. Ollivander’s shop. This shouldn’t take more than five minutes, darting in and out; you’re pretty sure you’ll be quicker than a Niffler digging through a pile of Galleons.

The door swings open easily. It has been five years since you last set foot into the small, cramped shop, yet nothing has changed and suddenly you feel as though you’re eleven again, entering for the first time. It smells of polished wood and something burnt underneath like a misplaced Incendio. Nearly every wall is stacked high with countless wands up to the ceiling, waiting to choose their witch or wizard. Back then you felt very small as a first year, anxious and excited to finally attend Hogwarts and get your own wand—the very first object that truly belonged to you and was not one of your older sisters’ hand-me-downs.

From the back of the shop you hear heavy knocks and a shrill screeching sound that makes you want to put your hands to your ears. Just like five years ago, you reach for the bronze bell on the counter but before your fingers can touch it, it lifts on its own and jingles beautifully. The knocking immediately stops, followed by a last dull clatter and then Mr. Ollivander emerges from the back room, dusting himself off.

He looks at you over the rim of his golden glasses, and a small smile spreads on his face as recognition dawns. The wide counter flap squeaks open when he swishes his wand to step through.

“Ah, the Hawthorn girl,” he says in greeting, quickly closing the space between you and taking your hands in his; you feel every wrinkle against your palm, every patch of rough skin from decades of work as he squeezes your hands. “I have hoped that I would see you soon.”

The question mark must be evident on your face, for Mr. Ollivander explains, “I remember every student and wand I paired, and you my dear, I remember the day five years ago when you came to my shop and your wand found you. Spiral, twelve inches, and a phoenix feather core. Unyielding. But what makes your wand so special is the wood it is made of. Hawthorn makes such a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.” He chuckles to himself, blinking as if lost in a memory; not noticing how tense you are and the way your uneasy smile curls downward. As though you could forget what the hawthorn means. But instead of allowing your mother’s voice inside your head and poisoning your heart, you square your shoulders and pull your hands away from Mr. Ollivander’s grasp.

“Delivery from Professor Garlick,” you say with a faux cheery voice. It seems only then does Mr. Ollivander notice the parcels still fluttering around your head.

“Ah, yes, yes! Allow me.” He points his wand at the parcels, then to his back room and they float through the shop in rank and file, all in proper order. “And here of course, the payment.” Mr. Ollivander hurries behind the counter, and produces a heavy pouch that he hands over to you. It jangles handsomely when you take it from him.

“Well then, I wish you a nice da—”

“Tell me, dear, have you met him?”

Feet already pointed towards the entrance, you turn your body halfway back. “Met who, sir?”

Mr. Ollivander looks up from the account books he’s been writing in. Something glints in his eyes, but maybe it’s just the reflection on his glasses. “Why, the Blackthorn boy of course.”

You rack your brain for anyone you know who’s called Blackthorn but come up empty. “I’m afraid I have not made any acquaintance like that, sir.”

The wandmaker’s eyes are calm, a sparkling blue of sunlight lancing off a stream. “I see,” he says. “Well, my part of this was fulfilled when I matched your wants with you. Everything else is up to you.” He gives you a little secret smile, then goes back to his ledger, the conversation clearly over even though you have dozens of questions swirling in your head.

Back out on Lower High Street, you have been released of the fluttering parcels and instead Mr. Ollivander’s words torment your mind. You can feel a memory hiding behind a thick fog, blurry and barely visible but its presence heavy and lurking like a ghost.

Wasn’t there something he had told you five years ago? When he had presented your wand to you, still resting in its narrow satin casket. You were too excited to pay him any mind—it had sounded too much like one of your mother’s stories; like an augury or worse even, a prophecy—when he had told you about a cursed kingdom, two brothers, and a hawthorn and blackthorn tree. Why listen to old fairy tales when the real adventure—Hogwarts—was waiting for you?

Besides, if by ‘Blackthorn boy’ he meant someone with a blackthorn wand, finding that person would be nearly impossible. And why would you look for him in the first place? Superstitions and divinations have no place in your life. Not after how it had dictated your childhood with a cold iron fist.

The trip back to Hogwarts is significantly faster without having to look after enchanted parcels behaving like newborn Fwoopers. With what happened at Mr. Ollivander’s, you completely forgot to drop by Honeydukes for Javi, which makes him look like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day.

You manage to start your essay for the group project, although you don’t get nowhere near where you wanted to be before the match. Lunch is a blur of tasty shepherd’s pie and grilled mushroom skewers with a small handful of students passing where you sit to wish you good luck, pattung your shoulder hard enough you almost choke on your pumpkin juice. Others send you little notes with crude drawings showing St. Jude zapping you with a spell and losing tonight’s duel. The messages are charmed to head dive into your cup and plate, splattering mashed potatoes on your uniform.

Adeleide plucks a nervously flapping piece of paper out of your meal and unfolds it. “At least they’re creative,” she notices mildly.

You throw a wary glance at the note. “That doesn’t even look like me.”

“I don’t know.” Javi slurps loudly from his cup. “They got your scowl right.”

Double Potions after lunch flies by for a change. Your Wiggenweld Potion tends to be a tad bluer than Professor Sharp’s apple green concoction bubbling at the front table for reference, but you have a hard time focusing when your mind is already occupied with how tonight’s duel might go.

You have a handful favourite spells that you’ve practised long enough they come as easy to you as breathing. But from what you have seen during the last Crossed Wands duels where St. Jude has participated, he seems to have a natural gift for duelling. You’ve heard he competed alongside Sallow in his first duel, but every after he’s been on his own and you’ve seen the battered and bruised leftover competitors limping out of the Clock Tower. You don’t plan to follow in their footsteps.

When evening falls on the castle and the long, narrow corridors awake with dim candlelight, you follow the throng of hooded students hurrying towards the Clock Tower after dinner. The excitement ripples through the lines of people like a physical force, alive and rearing when the first students file into the Clock Tower and find a seat close to the walls and away from accidental stray spells.

You spot Lucan Brattleby surrounded by a handful Hufflepuff and Slytherin students. Javi is among them, and when you draw closer you notice the ledger in Lucan’s hand and the Sickles being passed between him and Javi.

Javi startles when you step next to him like a Mooncalf facing an oncoming card. “Hiya,” he says in the very familiar voice that sounds a lot like him hoping you won’t be mad.

You raise an eyebrow. “Placing bets?” Your eyes linger on the page as you scan the names on the chart on your side. Only a few names—Leander, who’s been especially snappy since he lost against St. Jude in the semifinals, a handful other Gryffindors, one or two Ravenclaws and the rest are students from your house. On St. Jude’s column, Lucan has started to write the names as tiny as possible to fit them all on the page. Javi’s is amongst them. He ducks away from your scrutinising gaze. “He slew a fully-grown troll last week!” he pleads his case. So much for the infamous Hufflepuff loyalty. “I’ll invite you to Honyedukes after and pay whatever you want from the win.”

“Whatever.” You turn away to get ready, walking into a hard, solid body.

Callum St. Jude steadies you before you can stumble. “Easy there.” His smile slices white. “Am I already sweeping you off your feet? We haven’t even started yet.”

You shrug his hand off your arm. “The only sweeping happening today is when I wipe the floor with you, St. Jude.”

He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

You stare daggers at his back as he retreats to his side of the hall, welcomed by other Slytherin students who pat his back and ruffle his unruly jet-black hair as though he is the fifth year’s Champion already. He doesn’t linger around them for too long, and instead retreats to a far corner where Sallow is already waiting for him. What an annoying duo.

Tugging your black robe off, you begin to stretch your limbs. For today’s occasions you’ve chosen to wear a simple shirt with ribbon uniform tucked into your plaid trousers. More mobility, less fabric flapping around. A tie or a blazer would allow too much surface for a nasty Accio. From the last duels you’ve watched, you know St. Jude is as sharp as a whip, and he uses everything in his so far meagre arsenal of spells to win.

You’ll need to keep all your wits about you. If he, and the majority assembled under the giant swinging pendulum today, underestimate you, it will be your pleasure to remind them what vicious creatures badgers are. And that they devour snakes.

When you turn, St. Jude is already standing ready, his wand raised. He’s shrugged out of his robes as well and pulled off his tie, following your example. Gone is the hint of the cocky smile he always wears, so infuriating and inviting to punch. Now he is serious, his face an impassive mask that betrays nothing but you have seen it change within a heartbeat before knocking an opponent out with a savage blast of his wand. Like a snake, waiting and watching, until it strikes viciously and sinks its venomous fangs into your skin.

“Attention!” Lucan Brattleby hops in the centre, his arms raised. “Wizards and witches! Welcome to the fifth year’s Crossed Wands Championship Round!” He lets the audience get the whistling and bellowing out of their system before he introduces both parties. “Competitors, let’s get started!”

He quickly dashes out of the way—rightly so, for St. Jude’s opening move is always a lightning-quick Levioso, just like Professor Hecat taught him. You dodge the spell and hear it disperse against the wall behind you, feeling the sparks nip your skin.

“Accio!” You whip your wand towards you, only able to catch St. Jude by the cuff of his white sleeve as he evades with a side-step. But it’s enough to unbalance him as his arm is pulled in your direction and he retaliates by using the moment to blast a few Basic Casts your way which you block by well-timed Protegos.

The crowd’s cheers disappears into background noise as you and St. Jude continue your tense dance of attack and parry; a step forward, another step back, his Incendio is answered by your Glacius; since he prefers fire you do him the pleasure of casting Confringo which forces him to dive to the side. Your spell blasts the wooden weapon rack behind him into splinters and pieces, showering the Slytherins sitting beside it with glowing embers.

“Come on, new guy, give her a proper Slytherin treatment!” one of them yells. St. Jude doesn’t let himself get distracted, not even by the instructions of his fellow housemates or the quips from your side of the room. His eyes are pinning you like a butterfly on a corkboard, following your every step. They are frighteningly bright, you have the feeling that no move will go past him.

From behind you, you pull a large crate from under the buttocks of two Gryffindors with Accio, ignoring their protests when in the last second you fling it bodily towards St. Jude with Depulso. You’ve been working on the right timing for this for a long time—people usually don’t expect to be thrown at with things instead of spells. It hurls through the hall, and to your utter astonishment St. Jude blocks it in the last second with a flying object of his own—a practice dummy.

But where was the spell? You didn’t see him cast one when he hurled that dummy through the air.

At your puzzled expression, St. Jude grins at you, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. You narrow your eyes. There’s something growing in the pit of your stomach, rearing its ugly head and snapping sharp, volatile teeth. Basic Casts don’t feel enough, and every vicious Diffindo St. Jude parries or dodges in the last moment. His retaliation is a fiery Incendio after Incendio—you’d think after this time one of you would grow weaker, lose focus, but the heat flaring your way and the flames licking up your uniform feel anything but harmless or tame.

Sweat runs down your temples, along your cheeks, down your neck. Your wand feels hot in your hand, but you grip it tighter, knuckles white. Your lungs feel tight in your chest, but you breathe in stronger, eyes wide. That rage that always lives inside you rears. It is an almost physical pain, like nails against flesh; like teeth against bars. That unwanted animal is starving, it wants nothing more than to get out and you’re surprised nobody else can hear it howling.

“Not as quick or cunning as that Sallow boy, but her spells pack a mean punch,” they say about you. You couldn’t best Sallow, and now there is this new contender and you refuse, refuse to slide down to number three; always coming in last, always pushed aside. You snarl at St. Jude as though trying to wrap your teeth around the world.

The air crackles with magic. Faintly, you hear an echo of a familiar voice. “Do not be surprised at your wand’s ability to perceive your intentions—particularly in a moment of need.”

It seems your wand shares your taste for violence—you can feel that this is the best Expulso you have executed since you taught yourself the spell in year four. You swing your arm, wand scorching hot in your hand—vibrating even—and hurl the Blasting Spell at St. Jude.

You can see his mouth move as he speaks a spell, blue sparks fly from the tip of his wand and then crackling lightning intercepts your attack. Through the sparks and bolts you see St. Jude’s puzzled expression—now is the chance to strike. A surprised opponent is a weak opponent; you swing your arm back—your arm is stuck.

From the tip of your wand a wiry crimson light crackles across the room, connected to St. Jude’s wand. When you try pulling back again, an invisible force lurches you forward, forcing your arm up until the thin light grows stronger, redder like spilt blood. Your arm shakes with the feeling of wrongness crawling up your arm, a kernel of god-awful flavour that has you biting your bottom lip. You feel an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It is recognition.

The point of your wand, shining a blazing white, shakes with the effort of you trying to pull back; shakes from whatever magic is transpiring between you two. On the other side, St. Jude has his free hand around his other wrist, trying to lower his wand, his face as white as a wall. To no avail.

The magic spreading from your wand through your body is like curious, warm fingers touching up along your arm, curling around your shoulder, settling against your cheek. They wander lower and splay across your chest, then sink through your ribs. Close around your heart. Squeeze.

The world explodes.

The magical blast sends you flying. Your teeth clang together as you slam on your back. Pain radiates through your body. Black dots dance before your eyes and blur your vision as you’re struggling for air.

A hushed silence has settled inside the Clock Tower. You shake your head, your free hand rising to your chest where you still feel a sharp twinge. Gingerly, you pick yourself up, carefully feeling for injuries. The whole room is a mess as though a wild Graphorn has ravaged inside and destroyed most of the furnishings. When your eyes lock with St. Jude’s across the room, your heart beats in your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Mirroring you, one hand is pressed against his chest, the other holds his wand in a vice-grip as though his life depends on it. You see him shudder helplessly, as if it were winter and he has gone outside without gloves and caught a terrible chill. His eyes meet yours, then drop to your wand. His lips mouth a single word, and you stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of dread spreading slowly through your limbs.

And all of a sudden, you remember very clearly one thing Mr. Ollivander had told you all those years ago.

Once your paths cross, your fates will be irrevocably connected, growing together like the roots of old trees. Your wands have come from the same seed. There is no doubt that you fill find him.

Your Blackthorn boy.

A/N: If anyone is interested in this story, I can make a taglist :) Would also appreciate any sort of feedback, or just hitting the little heart so show me you enjoyed it

[bruiscdmouth]

Theo's got his girl under his arm and he presses a kiss to her head but his gaze is on the other across the room. She's a great girl but her family connections are even better. Theo doesn't mind putting in a little bit of work for the pay off. He gets along with her dad pretty well. Access to their big ass summer house is worth all the bitching. Even if there's someone else. Even if he's not sure. It's easy to get away with because no one would suspect them. They're both guys, they're both pretty good with a little "no homo" joke too. Theo likes it a little too much but he's busy with his hands on her hips now as he dances with her. This house party is loud, he can hardly think and all he wants it to get up on the roof and rip his vape. He wants to chill instead of listening to Leanna bitch about her friend Lindsay. He doesn't even remember this girls face. "I gotta piss." Theo says right into Leanna's ear before he's pulling away and crossing the room. He doesn't care who the other's talking to, probably a nobody, before he's grabbing onto their arm and tugs them towards the backyard. The huge sprawling piece of land on the lake. "You don't mind me stealing you." Theo says it like a fact, "Who the fuck were you talking to?" @littlcfreaks