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middleearthpixie · 2 years

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After the Fire ~ Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.

Thorin invites Jasna back to his chambers…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Dís

Warnings: unprotected sex

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,958

Khuzdul Translation:

Abnâmul - beautiful

Mesmel - jewel of all jewels

Mahal - the maker

Kakhf - shit

‘Atmelê - my breath of breaths (or my soul)

Amrâlimê - my love

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Previous chapters can be found here.

Her heart beat faster as they drew near Thorin’s private quarters. Should anyone see them, she had no doubt it would erupt into some sort of scandal that would most likely end with her being asked to leave Erebor for good.

But luck was on their side and they came across no one as they made their way down the corridor from the Gallery of Kings, down a narrow staircase, and along the shadowy corridor to the door they now stood before.

He unlocked it with the key he’d had tucked into his pocket, then pushed it open. “After you.”

She stepped into the semi-darkness. The only light came from the sconces up on the wall behind a long, comfortable looking sofa, and down the narrow hallway leading deeper into the apartment.

The door closed softly behind her and a moment later, Thorin slid his arms about her waist and her eyes closed at the first sweep of his lips against her nape. A tingle rippled through her, that one patch of skin far more sensitive than she’d ever thought possible. Then the tip of his tongue brushed the same bared skin. She shivered, and did so when he repeated the motion.

The hand on her belly did not remain still, but slid up along her ribs, to cup her left breast, and she couldn’t help the sigh that leaked through her lips. How could she, when it all felt so amazing? Heat unfurled deep within her, smoked through her veins, left her head spinning and her skin tingling like mad.

His thumb brushed over her nipple, which, despite her dress and chemise layered between them, beaded sharply in response and sent such delight streaking through her that she bit down on her bottom lip. He teasingly nipped the slope of her neck, gave her breast a gentle squeeze, then lowered that hand to turn her toward him.

He held her gaze, his eyes like brilliant sapphires, swirling with desire that made the heat sweeping through her burn that much brighter. Her eyes were so heavy-lidded, but she didn’t want to let them close, especially when he slid his fingers up into her hair and gently eased two pins anchoring her messy bun free. His gaze never wavered, a hint of a smile played at his lips as he let the pins fall onto the small table next to the sofa’s arm.

One by one, he tugged them free, taking great care not to pull her hair as a pin snagged here or tangled there, but patiently worked any free that needed it before he tossed them onto the stone table. Little by little, her hair spilled free, tumbled down about her shoulders, spilled halfway down her back, curls fell to frame her face, and nothing could have prepared her for his throaty, “Mahal, you are so very beautiful, Jasna. I’ve been trying to imagine you with your hair down like this, and I didn't even come close.”

Shyness swept through her and she cast her gaze at his boots. No one had never told her she was beautiful. Only Mama and that hardly counted. But to know that this man found her beautiful, and had no qualms about telling her just that, did something to her that she couldn’t explain.

He gathered her hair in both hands, smiling as he whispered, “So beautiful…” and then bent to capture her lips with his once more.

She melted against him, her lips parting, her tongue tangling with his, her fingers snagging in the front of his henley, twisting to tug him closer still. There was more fire, more heat, in his kiss than she could have ever imagined possible and she grew warmer by the second, her linen gown almost too heavy to bear against her ever-sensitive skin.

Thorin let her curls spill through his fingers, both hands now gliding down along her back, his fingers nimbly working buttons through their loops. He broke the kiss, pulling away as he parted the back of her dress and eased it toward her shoulders.

She had to force herself to meet his smoky gaze, her shyness growing stronger as he slid his thumbs beneath the edge of her bodice to work it the rest of the way over her shoulders and eased it from her. It poured from her to puddle at her feet, leaving her in only her well-worn and oft-laundered chemise that was fraying at the seams.

He offered up a smile laden with promise that was enough to steam her blood right then and there. He traced a thick forefinger along her chemise’s neckline, just beneath the edge against her skin. She fought off a shiver at how gently he touched her, how it was only barely a graze and yet she felt it clear through to the center of her being.

A pale green ribbon laced her chemise and when he tugged, the bow slipped free, the satiny ribbon sliding free as he plucked it between his thumb and forefinger to loosen it. Her head spun faster now as he slid that same forefinger down into the shadow between her breasts, along the inner curve of the right one, and she wondered how many women had been where she stood now. How many of them felt their blood actually sing when Thorin touched them? How many felt the weight of that smoky blue stare upon their bared skin?

The sensations rippling through her left her languid, left her eyes heavy-lidded and her skin humming with anticipation of where he’d touch her next, of how he’d touch her next. A heavy sigh leaked through her teeth, anticipation hot and sweet bubbled through her.

He traced back up, along her collarbone, to the edge of the chemise, where he hooked it with his thumb and forefinger to let it slip over her shoulder. The fabric slid warmly along her skin and when he did the same to the opposite shoulder, the chemise simply spilled from her to land atop her gown.

His eyes visibly darkened as his gaze swept down, and when he looked up and met her eyes once more, the fire in them stole the breath from her lungs. And when he brought his hand up, back to her bared breast and as he cupped it, his, “Abnâmul,” floated to his lips as a husky whisper to make her shiver once more.

The word meant nothing to her but that throaty growl rumbled through her, her eyelids heavier now as he slid his thumb in a slow circle about her nipple. This was far different from when he’d done it through her clothes. This caress caused everything inside her to tighten, to clench sharply, to make her belly do the most delicious flip ever while those knots tightened even more.

Her breath hitched as he captured her other breast as well and teased them at the same time. Those knots twisted sharply, a shiver tickled along her spine and her back bowed of its own accord. Her eyes closed, her teeth caught her bottom lip as she could no longer hold back her breathless sigh.

Thorin stepped closer, then bent to slash his mouth down over hers. Then, he broke it to sweep his lips along her neck, down across her shoulder and along the outer curve of her left breast. He kissed his way down her belly, sinking to his knees before her. His fingers traced along her left thigh, her calf, his fingers curved about her ankle to lift her foot, and she smiled as he eased off her soft-skinned boot, then shifted to remove the other, then kissed his way back up to her lips.

As he rose before her once more, she caught his henley in both hands to drag it up. He offered no resistance, but shifted just enough to help her whisk it over his head.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him—at the solid curve of muscle that lay heavy across his broad shoulders, that wrapped thickly over his arms, that defined a barrel chest and thick stomach. Dark hair spread from his collarbones to his navel and when she reached to lay her hand against his chest, she found that hair was almost as soft as the long curls spilling down his back and over his broad shoulders. His skin was warm, the scars on his belly easy to see even in the low light—still raised and pink, only now with dark stubble growing in around them.

Without thinking, she slid her fingers along the topmost one. The skin was still healing, of course, and it didn’t quite feel the same, and when she looked up, it was to see him still gazing down at her.

“Do they still trouble you?”

“A twinge from time to time.” He smiled then. “But it’s all right to touch me just the same, you know.”

She smiled back, drinking in the sight of him before her. Those scars weren’t the only ones marring his skin—skin that was darker than her own, even in areas where daylight rarely touched—but they were the freshest. And even with those scars, he was still utterly beautiful in a way that defied words, defied description. He simply was.

Although she’d seen the enormous tattoo he bore, she had never been quite this close to it. Done in black ink, the line-work, both thick and slender, was exquisite. She thought they might make up words in khuzdul, his language, but she could neither read nor speak it, and so couldn't be sure. A raven was inked into the line-work as well, and something that rather reminded her of a sunburst that had been done above what looked like a crown of sorts.

But that wasn’t all. The image was broken up by a series of oddly shaped indentations of a sort. They stretched in two rows from his chest toward his shoulder, the indentations closer toward the middle of his chest, spreading outward. She reached up to lightly trace one, murmuring, “What happened?”

“A warg bite. Just outside of Goblintown,” he murmured back, catching her wrist in his hand. He turned her hand palm up, brought it to his lips to press a warm kiss into its center. “Its other half is on my back.”

“How did you end up in a warg’s mouth?”

“I’d had enough of the Defiler chasing me through all of Middle Earth and went to confront him. But,” he drew her arm about his neck, then crouch slightly to catch her around the waist with one arm and behind the knees with the other to lift her easily, “we can speak of that later.”

Her stomach fluttered widely as he carried her from the sitting room down that narrow corridor. “Take care,” she whispered, “your wounds—”

“I feel no pain at all,” he whispered back, crossing the threshold into his bedchamber.

Her stomach whooshed as he bent to set her on his large bed, then came up over her to cover her body with his, His lips found hers, his weight welcomed as he settled against her. She slid her arms about his midsection, her toes actually curling at the sensual scrape of his body against her now far-too-sensitive nipples. It sent fire racing through her, her body dried kindling to his body’s lit match.

He sighed into her mouth, arching hard against her and as that hard part of him met the soft part of her, she gasped. She couldn’t help it. The feeling of him pressing into so intimate a part of her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. And when she and Anissa would wonder about this, she’d never thought it could feel this wonderful. No lesson could ever have convinced her of it, not that anyone ever tried.

His fingertips came light upon her skin, dancing along her thigh, down over her calf, back up. But then his fingers slid along her inner thigh to disperse the cold, to spread the warmth through her.

He went higher, into the crease where her thigh met her hip. She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes heavy lidded and refusing to remain open as just the very tips of his fingers brushed the curls between her thighs. No one had ever touched her this way, and it felt as wicked as it did wonderful, but at the same time, that shyness returned and without thinking, she pressed her thighs together.

Thorin smiled down at her. “Let me touch you, mesmel… it’s all right, you know.”

His fingers grazed those curls once more and biting down on her bottom lip, she slowly parted her legs wide enough for him to slip between and when his fingers swept along her sensitive flesh, she gripped him tightener, her fingernails biting into his shoulders, lightly at first but then—

“Oh…” She couldn't hold back her low, throaty sigh as he explored further, as he parted those curls to slip into the wet heat of her arousal. He slid through it slowly, easily, and when he found her entrance, he slipped one thick finger inside her.

“Thorin…” His name was a breathless whisper, her nails sinking deeper into his skin. She couldn’t help it, her fingers just tightened on their own. Nobody had ever told her how utterly amazing this could feel. Nothing could have possibly prepared her for the scorching pleasure he sent spiraling through her, hot and sweet and the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

Her entire body tensed in response, her hips bolting toward him. He stroked her gently, and each sensation built off the last, swirling through her like ribbons of heat, unfurling to fill her like smoke.

Those fiery sensations flooded her, her body tensing about him as he introduced her to the most amazing pleasure she’d ever known and she ached to touch him as he touched her.

But she couldn’t move. She was powerless to do anything but cling to him as he brought her to the brink of something wholly foreign and utterly magical and something that she wanted with every fiber in her being. Each stroke, each swirl of that finger inside her, and she knew she teetered on the edge of nirvana.

Then his thumb brushed something that shattered her, that sent fireballs erupting deep inside her to flood her body with a biting pleasure so hot, so sweet, that it left her gritting out his name as her body tensed and pulsed around him.

He brought her back gently and as she sank into his soft bed, her fingers went to the falls on his trousers. Buttons gave easily, and she wasn’t shy, didn’t hesitate, as she slid her hand down into the darkness, beneath the soft linen of what had to be his small clothes, and found what she so desperately sought.

Heat greeted her. Hardness met her. He was sleek and smooth, his low moan rising like a fog as she trailed her fingers over that amazing length. He shuddered. That part of him twitched beneath her touch. Her name rose to his lips in a primal growl that sent shivers racing down her spine.

He thrust gently into her hand, a silky slickness bubbling to his opening to coat her palm, her fingers, to make that that thrust a teasing glide. Between her thighs, the sensual tightness became the damp heat of arousal, of need once more, and he offered no resistance as she shoved hard against his trousers to push them down off his hips.

He carefully crouched once more, the rattle of a buckle telling her he was removing his own boots, which he just carelessly tossed aside.

But then he rose and her mouth went dry at the sight of him as his trousers, his small clothes hit the floor and he stood naked before her. Magnificent. Utterly, amazingly, magnificent.

Without thinking, she reached for him, her eyes wide at the sight of his manhood, hard and proud and thick, and when she just brushed him with a curious fingertip, he sucked in a hard breath and shuddered just as she had earlier.

She did it again, sweeping the pad of her fingers along his length, toward his body. Then away from it. Around him. He twitched beneath her caress, the air leaving his body in a mighty rush and when she looked up, it was to see his eyes closed, a half-smile at his lips. A small bubble of fluid appeared at his opening and curious, she slid her fingertip through it. It slicked along him, making his silky male flesh silkier still.

“Jasna…” Her name leaked breathlessly through his teeth as she stroked him again. That part of him was utterly fascinating, hot and smooth and sleek, and with each pass, his breathing grew more ragged about the edges.

He opened his eyes, smiling down at her as he whispered, “I want you, mesmel, if you are ready for me.”

Her stomach fluttered at the deep growl, at the purr of promise in his words, at what was about to happen between them, and she nodded, feeling very much as if she teetered on the edge of a new world yet undiscovered and uncharted. A soft, dull ache swirled through her and when she nodded, he bent over her once more. His lips captured hers, he pressed her down into the bed and gently eased his hips between her thighs.

He slid easily between her thighs, his arousal silkening her skin as well. Jasna parted her legs wider, unable to breathe as he guided himself to her entrance. He kissed her deep, his tongue tangling with hers as he made his approach. Gently, but with determination, Thorin pushed slowly inside her. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden sting engulfing her. There was nothing pleasant about it, it was fire and pain and misery in one bright fireball that almost had her crying out for him to stop.

But then there came a sharp pop and like that, the sting receded. The pain faded. He worked his way inside her slowly, gave her body the time it needed to adjust for him, to accommodate him. She mewled. She couldn’t help it. The pleasure was white-hot in its intensity and she had the maddest urge to roll her hips to accept him completely.

“Oh, Mahal,” he growled as she did just that and he slid deep inside her. He filled her, sent heat billowing through her as she slowly adjusted to the thickness, the fullness, of his body fitting so perfectly inside hers.

And how delicious it felt! A tingle thrummed through her. Followed by another. And another still. Each more powerful than the last. Each engulfing her with a little more force.

Then he moved.

He gave the gentlest of thrusts, and her body devoured him, tightened about him to hold him inside her.

“Thorin…” She pressed her thighs against his sides, his name an airy whisper upon her lips.

“Mesmel,” he growled, then dipped to slash his mouth over hers.

He thrust. Slow and lazy and deep, and she hummed all around him, each sensation building off the last, the fires raging hotter as she tightened about him.

He responded with a deep thrust. Then a slow retreat. Another thrust. Another retreat. They built steady, those thrusts, each more powerful than the last. And with each thrust, her body responded, her core melting slowly to make those thrusts silken and delicious.Thorin shuddered against her, growling something in his language as he gained speed now, surging hard and fast inside her. He filled her. Drove deep inside her. Brought her to the edge of something wholly unfamiliar but entirely wonderful. The sensations built off one another, each one stronger and sweeter than the last. Her head spun. Her body throbbed around his. Oh, this was so amazing!

She teetered on the edge, about to go over. Her fingernails dug into his back. Her body arched to meet his. The tingles began, sharp and spicy and melded perfectly with the tension building deep within her core. Oh, yes… this is amazing!

“Jasna! Oh, kakhf.” He thrust hard, tensed against her and then went still, sinking against her as all she could think was, no… oh, NO!

“Mesmel,” he whispered breathlessly into her neck, “I am so sorry… I did—I did not mean to come so quickly… Forgive me…”

Her eyes stung with tears—tears of frustration of being denied the fiery pleasure she knew awaited her just over the that precipice where he’d taken her, but they were not the only tears stinging her eyes. As he brushed a tender kiss along the slope of her neck, up to her ear, and murmured, “’Atmelê,” she shivered, the awesome feeling of being a part of something so much greater than her own self surging through her.

He shifted, the fullness inside her dissipating as he whispered, “I will make it up to you. I promise.”

“There is no need for that,” she whispered back, fighting to keep her voice from breaking. “I don’t think I was very good at this…”

“Oh, mesmel, that is not true. You just… you felt wonderful beyond compare and I was woefully unprepared for it.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes somewhat cloudy with the afterglow of his release. “And I had no idea what to expect. It took me by surprise, how very good you felt.”

“What?” She looked up at him. “Surely, other women—”

He shook his head. “There have been no other women, Jasna. Only you.”

“What?”

“Aye, you are my first, mesmel. And I promise you, I will not disappoint you again.” He punctuated his words with the gentlest of kisses on her lips.

“You did not disappoint me,” she told him when he drew away. “I don’t think that possible, Thorin.”

He smiled down at her. “Even so…”

With that, he eased off her and stretched out alongside her, drew the sheet and quilt over them, then gathered her in his arms. His fingers trailed along her hair as he murmured, “I will make it up to you, mesmel. I promise you I will.”

“Thorin,” she craned her neck to gaze up at him, “there is nothing to make up.”

“But there is. I want to hear you cry out my name,” he whispered, tightening his arm about her shoulders. “I want to know you feel even an iota of the pleasure you give.”

She smiled into the semi-darkness. The light from the sconces in the hallway beyond the door was just enough to see him, to make out the dark shapes of furniture, to glint off the flawless silver of the blade of the sword in the corner. “Well, I won’t argue with that.”

His laughter rose in a soft mist. “Mesmel, have you any idea how I treasure this moment? I’ve never even allowed myself to dream of such a moment as this. Never dared allowed myself to think it possible.”

“Why?” She lifted her head to gaze down upon him, propping it on one fist.

“Because I never thought it would come to pass.”

“Again, why?”

“I had nothing to offer a woman. Not even a home. We moved from place to place, then settled in Ered Luin, but even then, I just… I had nothing to offer.”

“That’s not true, Thorin,” she murmured, reaching down to trace her forefinger along the coarse hair covering his jaw. It was mostly dark, with silver shot through here and there, and larger patch of silver on the right side of his chin. “You have so much to offer, and I don’t j-just mean because of what y-y-you have here. I cannot imagine you d-d-didn’t have plenty to offer before returning h-h-here.”

“I was a blacksmith. And I moved around quite a bit before we settled in Ered Luin.”

“There is nothing wr-wrong with that.”

“No, but it is hardly the same as now.”

“Any w-w-woman would be mad to hold it against you. King, prince, or smithy—it doesn’t ch-change you.”

“It mattered to me, though.”

She smiled down at him, and without thinking, leaned over to press her lips to his. His hand curved against the back of her head, his fingers curling into her hair as his lips moved gently against hers.

Jasna broke the kiss slowly, and with a sigh, let her hand come to rest on his chest, let her fingers slip through the soft hair curling way from his warm skin. “Might I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he murmured. “Ask me anything you wish.”

“What happened,” she gingerly traced over the warg scar on his chest, “that you were bitten by a warg?”

“Shall I tell you the whole story or only the warg part?”

“The whole story.”

“I was in the village of Bree, just west of the Shire,” he told her, his fingers moving in a slow rhythm along her hair, “and I had a chance meeting with Gandalf the Grey. Only, it wasn’t a chance meeting at all. He’d set it up, precisely to get me to consider this mad quest to retake Erebor.”

Jasna smiled, snuggling closer to him. The heat from his body seeped into hers, his fingers on her hair made her sleepy beyond compare. She was perfectly content right where she was, and didn't care if she ever moved again. “Such a mad quest, indeed.”

A low laugh bubbled to his lips. “It was, when you think about it. Thirteen dwarves against a dragon? We had to be mad.”

She swept her lips along his ribs, then up and over his left nipple, which made his fingers tighten briefly in her hair. “Go on.”

“Oh, mesmel… you’re distracting me.”

“I apologize.”

“Please, don’t.” He turned to press a kiss into her forehead. “So, I ventured into the Shire, to meet Master Baggins, who, Gandalf had chosen as the fourteenth member of our company. We’d made it to Rivendell, got told off by Elrond, then were heading toward Mirkwood when we fell into Goblintown.

“Long story short, outside of Goblintown is where we came face to face with Azog and his minions. And he was astride a white warg with powerful jaws.”

“Why was he hunting you?”

“I don’t know. To this day, I don’t know. Perhaps because I bested him as Khazad-dûm. All I know, he wished to end my bloodline.” His fingers moved lightly along her shoulder now, sweeping first up, then down, and with it, a delicious drowsiness seeped into her. “And he almost did exactly that at Ravenhill, if not for you and Óin and a she-elf named Tauriel.”

“I only arrived after the fact.”

The sheets rustled softly as he shifted onto his side, gazing down at her through soft eyes. “You helped us through the worst of it, Jasna. You’re still helping Fíli through it.”

“I wanted to continue my training.”

“For which I am grateful.” He leaned over, capturing her lips with his, his beard rough and prickly and soft and sensual all at the same time against her skin. She caught his face in her hands, let her thumbs brush along that bristly fur. He eased over her, settled between her thighs once more.

His kiss came slow and deep, and while his tongue tangled with hers, he slid a hand between them to tease her mercilessly, setting her blood afire and her body ablaze with desire and she smiled as he broke the kiss to nuzzle her. Then he shifted slightly and with a silken push, slid deep and offered up a powerful thrust that had her clinging to him, throbbing around him as he surged hard again. He crushed her to him as his thrusts came faster, as they came harder, was he drove into her with enough force that this time, she went over that peak with him, her voice mingling with his as he surrendered to the same moment as she did.

“Jasna!” He gritted her name, his last thrust almost blinding in its power. His body spilled into hers. Her body claimed his. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her body devoured his, and when he sank against her, he whispered, “Amrâlimê…”

Her head spun so wildly, she had no choice but to close her eyes, whispering, “What does that mean?”

“My love,” came his equally soft response, his head coming to rest in the slope of her neck. “Because you are, you know.”

Jasna smiled into the darkness, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Never in her wildest imaginings, did she see Thorin Durin telling her she was his love. It was too amazing to be believed. “Thorin?”

“What?”

“Do you mean that, or are you telling me what you think I wish to hear?”

“Jasna, you’ve seen me through some of the darkest days. You encouraged me, pushed me, even when I only wished to give up. In a very short time, you’ve become very important to me. And yes, I mean it. There is something I need discuss with Dís, with Fíli, but when I do, all of Erebor will know you are mine.

“But for now,” he smiled as he lifted his head, his eyes sparkling in the soft light, “we have plenty of night left and there is plenty more I should like for us to explore together…”

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Saturday 10 November 1838

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very fine morning tolerably much cousin yesterday but hardly any in the night A- came and got me up so soon, for a light – poorly this morning – had had Josephine and was dressed before 8 – F61° now at 8 ¾ am note from Madame de Bourke to put off the dinner from tomorrow to Monday, hoping to have un homme de lettres to meet me – wrote back pour la remercier de sa bonté et to say I should be charmé to diner chez elle Lundi au lieu de domain – then breakfast – then wrote as under to ‘Monsieur Monsieur Oakey ambassadi Britannique’ – ‘Mrs. Lister presents her compliments to Mr. Oakey and if he has received any letter for her from Pau, will be much obliged to him to put it under cover to her at Meurices’ Hotel – Saturday morning 10 November 1838.’ then went out – the carriage ordered at 10 and having waited – out about 10 ½ A- and I in the carriage and took George – waited in the carriage while he took my note to Mr. Oakey next door no! no.35 embassy no.39 r. du Faubourg St. Honorè – and while he took my passport to the embassy-porter to be visaed for Angleterre via Calais – then r. des Capucines and ordered a pair of strong leather shoes for Wednesday evening sans faute – then r. du Helder no.12 – Madame Oudot-Manoury sortie – saw her husband and a young English girl – would rather see Madame O- herself and would call again – then to Amyots’ – A- amused – bought for her folio 80/. sur l’histoire de France and its antiquities published chez Firmin Didot and bought for myself Voyages historiques, littéraires, et artistiques en Italie par M. Valery bibliothécaire du roi au palais de Versailles. Paris chez Baudry. 1838 – then at 1 ½ back again from Amyots’ to no.12 r. du Helder – Madame O.M. still out so came away immediately – then bought a pair of slippers chez Flammant à la chinois (Bains chinois) boulevard Italian – then to Madame Contant and left my black silk shawl and A-‘s ditto mantelet to be lined and ouatté – Madame C- so strongly recommended Madame Chatelain coutrière no.46 r. St. Anne that we went to her and ordered each a morning gown – silks to come in the morning at 10 for us to choose – then to Bodier gautier r. de Richelieu – good – bought a couple of pair gloves each and had our measure taken and left each our name and address r. St. Victor 27, and came away at 3 ½ and then to the Pensionnat Protestant 2 Rue des deux portes, St. Jean. Madame Langeland to inquire for a young Swiss lady’s maid – she had none but young girls – too young and knowing – generally sends them to England as petites bonnes, under nurses, to teach the children French – but some are apprenticed here to dress-makers – none at present at liberty – there is one will be at liberty in 18 months from this time – then to Place de la medicine no.13 chez Crochard – ordered the volumes necessary to complete my sets of Capefigue etc. Mr. Audoin now a member of the Institute – has made some great discoveries relative to the [?] that destroys the vine and going to publish a large work on the subject aided by government in the expense – Dr. Milne Edwards, too, also a member of the Institute – home at 5 ½ - A- wrong at breakfast but I got her right and then the eighty frank book at Amyots and the silk gown and was all right till we went to Crochards’ not amused and rather wrong again what a bore I am never at ease but when away from her dinner at 6 to 7 10 – then A- read a little aloud to me of her folio bought this morning then slept on the sofa and I dozed in my chair till near 10 – then had Josephine she asked when I should leave Paris – about engaging herself to Mrs. Sheldon to go on Wednesday – Mrs. Sheldon wishing to see me – I declined this begging that if she had anything to ask me, she would write – Josephine wants me to give her a written character said it was not my habit to give written characters – but I would say she had lived with so long, and I was satisfied with her – adding however that if she left me on Wednesday it would be a great inconvenience and I should decline saying anything – I should feel it unhandsome on her part, but I did not wish her to

SH:7/ML/E/22/0064

lose a good place – I understood, one gave a fortnights’ notice here – no! it was eight days – very fine day – I shall never keep a servant with A- I must begin over again I must be rid of her by and by – then settling Josephines’ accounts and calculating her wages etc. etc. till now 12 tonight at which hour F60 ¼° - Josephines’ wages from the time of her coming Saturday 16 June to Thursday 15 November = 153 days at 500fr. a year = 209fr. 11 285/365 sols say 210fr.

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customsweaterproducer · 2 months

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hamishpetersen · 6 years

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distrust, disorientation, disintegration

Review published in HAMSTER Magazine Issue 4 of:

Daegan Wells A Gathering Distrust Ilam SOFA Campus Gallery 21 February - 22 March

distrust, disorientation, disintegration Hamish Petersen

eleven ceramic pots are lined up like a narrow jetty, risking itself the further it extends. they are made of clay Daegan dug from the shores of Moturau, near a memorial for the ‘Save Lake Manapōuri’ Campaign.

“Moturau is the correct Māori name for Lake Manapōuri. […] The name Moturau is sometimes said to have been given by the northern rangatira Tamatea, who travelled through the area with his travelling party after their waka, Takitimu, capsized at Te Waewae Bay.” [1]

Daegan dug the clay not far from where they remember having fallen over on a childhood trip. this was familiar ground at the time. their family had relocated nearby after finding employment in the second hydroelectric project at the lake in the mid nineties. it’s always a strange sensation to fall over on familiar ground, to ram your hip into the kitchen bench while absent-mindedly refilling your water glass. Sara Ahmed reminds me that disorientation, “can shatter one’s sense of confidence in the ground, or one’s belief that the ground on which we reside can support the actions that make a life feel liveable.” [2] for the Save Lake Manapōuri campaigners it was the threat of topographical disorientation that motivated a call to action (for inaction) in a rising euro-american awareness of mass extinction, deforestation, and climate crisis. you’ll have to rearrange your week if the water rises and an isthmus becomes a channel.

“This pass or ford, Te Kauranga, was where waka entered Circle Cove.” [3]

attempting to retain the orientation to the world they had sketched around them, the locals took to public protest action in order to have their lived topography legitimated by the commercial and governmental bodies that threatened to submerge them. the campaigners’ story was somehow written in a script that achieved legibility for those in power, whereas other stories entwined in that whenua at different times were illegible (read: unintelligible (read: unreal (read: illegitimate))).

who gets heard when successive acts of speech are speaking over one-another? over the land. over the silvered macrocarpa of hay barns. over the seasonal tracks to a southern kainga, or the best places to cook in the rain.

in some sense this work subverts the typical reading of craft practices like pottery through these stories. the red, bisque-fired pots on the floor fit readily into a negotiation of binaries and

hierarchies of usefulness / decoration, femininity / masculinity, and particularity between functionality / formalist history in the vein of the pākehā potters and image-makers lauded for their ‘capture’ of an essence of Te Wai Pounamu. however, the way Daegan articulated the space using a projection of pensive, frothing waters onto crisp aluminium in one corner, casting spears and flutters of light across the room, called me into my body. i felt myself small and my movements calculated in order to orient myself to the row of pots in the appropriate way. in this environment the clay forms were language through which land, peoples’ histories there, and Daegan’s relationships with Manapōuri locals were articulated through an embodied process — Daegan and the clay. some stories get through that somehow, not that I need to know all the details. they are not always for everyone to know.

FFO: Ceramics, environmentalism, queer phenomenology, swimming in space, activism, layered histories.

[1]Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu, “Popup Panel: Moturau” Kā Huru Manu, Atlas — A Cultural Mapping Project, 2018, http://www.kahurumanu.co.nz/atlas. [2] Sara Ahmed, Queer Phenomenology, (Durham; Duke University Press, 2006), 175. [3] Te Rūnanga o Ngāi Tahu, “Popup Panel: Pakererū” Kā Huru Manu, Atlas — A Cultural Mapping Project, 2018, http://www.kahurumanu.co.nz/atlas.

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hasansstudios · 5 months

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libidomechanica · 9 months

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Untitled (“Muses with his hand”)

A sonnet sequence

Muses with his hand. And motion ran brothers lover, but there meet half footsteps still, whose who hold mark, whose handfuls of sugar’d among, before meet well I were, to ducks to me: the fears, and the solitude the met, and their and fret at was necessary as I Undying rook on this perhaps the children in her wont song; each us, if God know where—now? You for the public good name; and look—I leaps of music’s kiss his scythe city, nor bewilderness, burning!

He staggeration, as the prove, and there place wash off. And also soon warmth and shone, can vndoe Dame nigher heat, beauties best peacefull of sorrow that least would you do us, the saw not helped us matter flowing hence where did yes I ne’er I say: wan warmed marriage-makers eke religion of Cossette, well: and to say. Yet herself and athwart,—o why lips. Make recure as the centaur, upon the rhyme. When you think that is breakfast, and so survey the budding there’s ne’er past as they are daffodils with this honeying Lilia with his Dividual; and cast our pypes, which had was sooner by silence, although all men beautiful eddies which their measures to each be world warriors by expire!

For summer’s Tongues so mellifluously pale fling among, I heart to wish to here came, espy some were that them shot a flying thee relation not being late her child that mere coin’d rills before held and when weeps, perhaps with ebon-tipped in everything now shadows, confesse bride lies which most; and fair with thee happen.—You by! Now forest Silvia, will dare they do, were and I would marked it sell for lad, I swear her drowned life and I’ll struck out of hero lie; he altar.

Or up to filled an appen. And Lady: ’ clan of our heath, opprest, bear with hymnes of her face of a shroud, Oh God! Of puissance; but one near, the ballad or inspire, and yet I did hand: the Princess, and from beneath thy weed-hidden virtuous and pilaus, the orange. ’ Said, Be so longer with me! It is strange! Where bloom the bars, thought, twould yield; heedless primal and to attracts by his head weird sex, and when he hear embodies of happing stars; and yet how the City.

I though the graue, they hardest acquaintertain’d it on the from a certain of, or will to the sense! Make men’s for high-front the staggered as this than one, in the richer fairest by the sight,—nor with me! Not silent rosaries, What in the invited, and bear all lips, and yet his is trumpet blood, hand in love with a clouded, above the two spheres, but why, felt most my very quiet, to fearfully,— how to me, no many wayle my brave civic alley-depth. And follow’d domes as he searching beast their child; and, sitting on his greater could not day, If thy head, I feed be; he had it all the very farewell’d to footsteps so much admit of a friar was said—indeed, I joy; but, Oh God!

And waxing cruelly took like linkt a dead; thought, conjure the stars are going. Was hot a thing; and ease we knots of might about of the pyrus japonica shot by run; therefore slain. There a past;—’twas thought way; bething—into tell me, Peona; nor men are general palaces and on the world warrior lamb, or suppose wives’ eyes overlooked an England rush’d into what not much syrup ran broken and lived they the drops, as Juan say which brows showed up, as their sad a wide.

Mild zephyr penitent, the other’s as her and on its each other veering thin, and chillis, has plaint. Mothers thorough, which Juan: if I counted, up-follow crowd of her and then we call night! ’ Pray, should Fate plain’d to such their joys upon’t, believed, that betray us. Rich: sofas t was a sunburnt the heap’d again. Write; and the looking of her too is a because of my wayle my friendship! Lang, languishing up and the thee, and, I am not, fondly treating limbs.

And sappines to forced my breath the deeper withal an awkward, that they are old worst of gloomy dazzled Nature bene rugged travel-weary, fair as a doves, dried cage: one of the pomegranary plaint fare, the palace! Blood was quence for ready, ’ replied, rapt in the churchmen for you let Prudence, too, and silver be died off her eye, she gate, straightway to head, daily breeding that violin struck, and it, Follow’d domes thy nail in Turkest, as if sadder plaint.

Thought: she had kept witchen the op’ning sweets, and a throught once in the breast into Elysian: but to- morrow pine and ivy buds, I can one, to fear; all Muse, that fuller craned, issues from yonder, that stung! I said Baba paused, as in May, the who day lash stay, ere the tress; and head, sincertain echoed from what all. Though it undescent- curve again the Master disagreeable took the burying, and ask him had love’s in May, they laid a scared thrown i’ the bonie, O.

Tis truth, deaf and breathings cruel; and bubbling for mankind of her cold. Working the apples hence of Self makes me them, a thing soule abuse such to steadfast, which he great seven- and-twigs, might face else might bronze vales await on a Dandy’s wreath, that doe mellow by day of blissful cried; the purpose? Make a wretch a history of May, such as scarce to the mopeth in peace is liege- lady ears common love’s more it, and mine world and the moved the day and to the Universal law.

Await the heaven fancifuller intense me you ain’t never my francke she half-disdain perched book an armora with threading the hall so oftentions,—saving and ducks the great from their dayes. In the corner of the flood of grasshoppers shall blue-stone;—felt it flouds charmer foes untwining thou know the and Constant hour two cottages yelp along to the Cathay. Refused for a though to find, the last seem where had ranks are voice, and with my kiss his goodness of Tyrant!

But it were that their duty, like likes. Priest eyed Juan, my Starres lot the gentle hand up that last be prest there from then myself, who many Letter not silence: he, doubtless, that time beauty should be with narration into you milling please o’er-flower blushing our come weeps, each us two, nor earthquake it at his were recollect of their old neuer taste, and out in the most her, give us up, a crave constantly bearing, Dost though those my length of thy nail it be.

Something with color. Next, the hourly have guess. It is thy promise, heard from my eye of his can’t—if spann’d him—oh Shah, ah! She bodies deares, yet to-day I was door weathere bene airy trace and sic please to me. Are the custom of you blame the flower, so he was not lies, the onwardly deigning her view of the hear me against think of yore high season dere we through my love of season thy void, but nature wide, the Rich inspirit deep; how she, A sodger.

The past, into stars or stranger,— he doubt not only onward, and first-fruit of a gilded fire, about they came infrequent, when to get my sweetest Silvia, yet still and there’s not to simple is my dear loves and his flash’d: the great is a daughter friend, he stood like enought, by their den, it in me? And in their transformation, glared in one staid, which in their for on the door, cousin, ’ as shell’s irides, and brood. Our Ida with, recollect more reduced to buy.

In courtesy should turn, and rights and left his not much mescal. Going that next are my hear her eye, and hoard, thy he shapen plain, to rally with juries for love, she is deadly spirits river of Wisdom in the urge to whose turn, as the house; but Philly? When you so, ’ said to come folk of flow ocean rising change, and me, we’re we are white and of Summer-in. He golden have free father on that, when first wife is: the willing our girlonds do say, if any kindle of the fain would henceforth to makes then prophet David,—david, speak the thou art, and he heaven apart, but I do to behave and sweete what’s captive that has oppress much with revel; and break did it blessed touch though to make a kind?

Of Langled in to have like Ganymede to stopping& hand! Pervades by a dog, and even aside two world-wide worst tattering flaming; to be bottle, she calculation. Fountain of spanless calm hour willing fuell Death is head, but how: our laws loue, although one is thee; though feare, nor carefull verse. Doubt he’s ode, or a private balls. Notions—stifled from head; the curse—moral is proper pitch’d, by a brilliant, they great princess which arise the eyes flea’s dear love her do. The sun or ploughs, to give the glen, their weepe hollow; let his can feele he is setting their enchanging did a crafty limping here are would be wires one. Because known thy of yellow’d always of my labour’s arms, and poppy hers break?

A mere was, was bland, afternoon whether for state, in pious without off the Seven Petrarch’s selfish on the spleen, and yet strove or ravine, what is night glance fine so gay, better battle leave my losse not to aught with good Queen, safe in their eyes show. I love groups of the queen sandaled friendly from my burden of Lapidoth false and life enioys, exild forth of which I would a wail such a wailful power of a shadows glazed with As young gentlement sympathy.

Bloody swaying a snow listened aware of sweetheart too much as one would not and unto nothing sigh perhaps his proofs of her most address. And there, mountenance: so to the lies twixt them to hint here dropped in making; frown of the purpose off paradox become upon it a dinner,—he tumultuous sight my soul known—by a crescent-curve again, withdrew from hidden honour. The social was have it. Rich in t, let me or both were—where was deem no more them.

Good Angel to prayse: there wet in her soul check’d demon Poesy. Time by no more I means to the could me, could the striking; so as one mis-shape we standing fit; He rose I digress merely take somethink the with his bad, the bailey bear, and while affair; and, truly wise and this Urne; she cried are in somehow, there hoped teaching drop melt, and the chance: till around, too, of lucubration If my hat all to shades. Eternity maybe like Arab in a mountain hay.

Not July call sure and some increase, when lead: how she led thee O that all out each other Secret— cunning with pain hay. For the Mower as the margin’d beloved, whiter said Baba story of all from such a swore the Master and crusades, illustre, to sit doth apples, wilt though inferior lad, shalt seem’d so i can be but the station a good philosophy. Golden her little soul, there made, this palmy time according change to shake the mankind our dream.

For her has not grateful which least as the right to heed, that brough thousand we had rake, come on for thro’ the duches, what; and humiliar exceeds. Thy soul can speaks they came to left him, Come! Of pillars of time soon hands unties blown und I got the purpose whom, where ripen’d like their queen of blunterfeit is powering as them a’ for Jock of holiday. Victor has been a parture. To breed some neat last, hath my bliss alone. And yet help of medicate chaser of men.

I wishingly exclaim’d Gulbeyaz, foremost rich. Paced in its no such the grain; or up the lips e’er many love just someone you man obtaine, o carefull ragamuffins dart hence more them not glass of the merely comradesman’s fated on their art; those silent deep into the furies, how like a gain beauty’s the old many chronicle of some middle or the missed to make sequins wide which heavily, what in great she what which held it all; such as any male?

Some feel her her at they mix’d the ladies take she isles of ever in his tutors, was we oughts to me, they free an LP of pestile it out found, on beguile, their rising will happy I dare alas, with Pearl, he distance—Ninon derely t is i wanted in the furious, a bootless of the game, somehow, the swell flesh. To lives like plain, where I slept in mock-solemn, that, to gaudy tas-ke, ystable tete-a-tete, to post-haste liaison for me! Dead!

And polish golden how in these the silver in sad a little tries; a sing, languid smiles who had fallen meteor one were earth had been content, who, one sits quite in Stella, he thing of loved till middle shed mind frankindly eye: at last, thy and for men do the charger they can’t know its brethren of thought: beside of nobler love my pictur’d in long-cloth answer share it were moving&never certain pomp of honey enough three lived a staring my lovely, and the had me light it bird, there? His Highness as she strong, I heart, a though the build war’s inmost suit he splendours, but an Asiatic drear him, and wealth; perhaps of your belt, forth, that higher voice, and a richer put on fire is themselves.

How we have beyond. Without delight and heightly the trellis another the marble coat was then in aught withdrawn, sees furens; so that old Triton’s variety; see just for a thousand flimmer has a thin us ledge—see, sweet girls, and fire to mee: now such a hare-bells low! ’ Had showers brow grave; ghost or this for new fire-balloons ready, it is steedes in some Colossus down; my goodly sing, conjure that bringent sympathize with sight,—nor knew no limity.

And follow trails bring soothing with sometimes on a rooms, we gave, that cannot be seen He rose I heards light euen in me simple beautiful voices were to her, me, have any darling, loth on this risen and I would alike; like a chariot rights are em, who obey— our help’d again impressive twin cottages who don’t let bee. Dozed, but let in patriot sympathy a Brussels laces, why stone on war: when and while this admir’d. Its wound, when yours are two love.

The wash on the meed of chance and crying out a sunbeams of blame; for nough twenty; for I thinking there they are slight; and political growes on her yet she was glowing, leaves it dreerie deares pour tongue could it dream. Her present to shore, and a slight best one, while the world I could signs, and smother feet he, for an aspect of views a harm, who on things: may deeds that Wisdom which made up now ’tis true feel the den of old, of changes vntil, from other small born will serving?

You the blossom’d bear whom the moonlight have shall better frame when Phoebus peal unto stab herself, a survey or by her dreams again such perforces we go, whom for sung, wi’ my heauens her helpless it castlereagh abuses; and me. The woodland, when only marked itself would on thy dark me, silver stirr’d fairy sweare, like a bed to feel, comparing an old blushing your poure of my old story of raimentary. I nibble undisguis’d desires and soon hand.

She war-drunk and probably van of life’s ode, or cones and such of a danced, I forbears complete her wi’ my cause I for the Neptune play without common grows erect and dreamed, the round till its consequent, who feel the Mark, huge to learn her moods we may teach error lifeless, my disagreeable, will turn a young, not our reason; Lust must have forbidder. Act, remember’d in the freely she forgotten with the huntsmen o’ the blooms. The had not a brillinery wear their such salt—sweet voice, Vengeance all the she than here; and pawed for Neptune’s story.— As indeed, but true lark, and compassion; and on apace, or else could he stay; true, all youthful was circles, once in France, of little spheres on his brains.

Trunks, accounting trimm’d to leader of doth darling and Justice to use may long, and me. Then, you come, likes Time’s serenely train Sorrowing and when that flower: we kiss the future, would tours, bushes,—her head, and reach it is none view: our great river for threw a love also snatch see but i just displaid. And with Plenty possess and strawberries of fear. The sea in the greate the stubborn of strife, whose unhealth, had heals in him seem’d and lawless good the lily, I will not.

Which the must a touch though to you should marbles in the cricketed; then the was yourse, a glorious mixe both hair, swim: and lay it, and to crackling in this meet in fact she mother, but leases; it was, unto stream, thou tell their sum was doen advanced am I richer part of dirt, fooles thence: so kept, like Esau, for booke: what times race. So often render, trailed all their dryness called; and somehow idem semper amorous high-piled boat once did lyeth wrappers&hands let bee.

Slow riven as the look’d on his much; to singly; as dooms we rock,— ’mong tarry. Flushing those the tempt their brethren, but at the fastert: Fayre fit; I know too much, new delight; smote stones, fears awaking eye apples, and watch the worthier brights secret from me. Now, still wrapped in your true, and breaking of the parents you art to point our discovert may with Sulaymates and trouble day. Which when she reared a temples; pity. Now how Love’s rage. It lean arms were two memoree.

Which euen to gentlement seize; she original, a canopy, and began, that is, in her own, deny it. The bargain her and Nature day gave all through even stream with mistress’d a song from the South, and everythings: at he space. That they dance to pray be nearer her hoar. That his rosy hue; the winds as a fair heart out, and never door, t is that or so that I might and so, that by your Bosom— looking, some ne’er progress: she from herse, chattery, very soule, I can aspired. And knee: but every fawn that I might about us peal unto the street someone your bells. I though glitter warrior lady’s embark’d woman, love, their nation—for my Jeanie. And fancy-sick. That though flow of nature.

Went at lands until it. Puts from the beautiful ewes; amazeful forgiven to full her hands, and hours shall but deal should alive— and tired. Than is time starr’d from collects, what comet! ’ But we will get a breaking in her present meals; her lakes pictur’d herse, may stone fled from Gaeta:—Shot. Her prey will not holds to be back on 100K a weeks his after you; on Helen’s heels: and oarlocks seek for his poore Christmas here, ’ said Juan, that he very moment, but yours, with Her Grace.

A little lotted eglanting over tasted what again would bid thy soft god of air thou trace when so blame? And in one I ate? Then already mind; he slaves’ chiefe, what glowing galleries prove, now would thus he treasure live a fine, all thee? He is abed, has gather pardon, oh, paradox become speake, or galleries, thought assured furthern empty he muse! With and sweetness the centre sitting into a mound! Yes! Arsenic, surpassion were that heavy-fruits.

Their curls from the great good father way, though whole and hospitality which I thine and our moment since I wash’d, still never know, thou blame hamadryads do love upon us with he, how shadows! The matter weary well, observance fondless, which I things hour, overrun all makes to aery people in vogue; a touching their needy not every still wrapped withdrawn, and did I knew the river flower than aught bless in mind with less are for none your flake we will pleasaunce.

It is true, you this fingering; t would Juan bend without draw thick, a kind come to the floor, till it end towers; ’ except performance at thrice in described; for on a rocky island rais’d my string; my mountain by ill-timed precocious chroniclers shall notions; to breast. Was use, nor kindly to deadly let me pass winne someone shore a grace in a city in dark cup your praise in would tell through in her gentle felt thousand gummy freedom fain was a finest always wilder’d, and Justice, and a- proposite of them and brightens o’er their second serene, as what time have fallen: this safe. And for the Federation, but for thankful meadow and he, and her; and writing break in a tule for night.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #168 texts #sonnet sequence

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woodensole1 · 10 months

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Crafting Your Space: A Beginner's Guide to Custom Furniture

Welcome to the vibrant city of Jaipur, known for its rich cultural heritage and, of course, its exquisite custom furniture showrooms. In this beginner's guide, we'll take you on a journey through the world of bespoke furnishings, online furniture in Jaipur, and the art of customizing your living space.

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customisable table

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sofamakers · 1 year

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Sofa Fabric Change in Bangalore

The Sofa Makers are one of the best Sofa Fabric Change companies, which offers Sofa Fabric Change in Bangalore. Now you need not let go of your favourite sofa just because it is damaged.

The sofa makers team of specialists will repair your sofa’s peeled covers, rugged couches and pry skin.

Sofa Repair and service include:

Sofa Repair Services, Sofa Upholstery Change, Sofa leather Change, Custom Sofa, Reclainer Renovation, Reclainer Repair, Sofa Reclainer Upholstery Change, Just Search Sofa Fabric Change near me

l Taking care of minute details and crinkles of your leather sofa and giving it a fresh look

l Fixing new attachments and bringing up the suspensions

l Make your sofa extra cozy by adding the right amount of foam

l Rectify the loosened Sealing and covering

l Bring life to your torn, raged and a cast of sofas We help you match your sofa fabrics with your interiors Visit our Store https://thesofamakers.com/

#Sofafabricchange #Sofarepairinbangalore #sofa upholstery #sofamakersinbangalore #Sofaleatherchange

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nosetrimmerreview · 2 years

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The Top 10 Furniture Stores In London That Offer The Highest Quality Products

When it comes to finding furniture, quality is key. Not only do you want the furniture to last, but you also want it to look great and feel comfortable. And in London, there are no shortage of stores that offer high-quality products at a great price. Here are the top 10 furniture stores in London that offer the highest quality products: 1. Habitat 2. Urban Outfitters 3. Zara 4. Topshop 5. John Lewis 6. Selfridges 7. House of Fraser 8. Dorothy Perkins 9. Uniqlo 10. Liberty. Bespoke media unit London Sofa.com If you're looking for furniture that will last, and that offers the best quality possible, then you need to check out Sofa.com. This website offers high-quality furniture that can last for years, and it's always worth checking out their clearance section to find amazing deals on top-rated items. Fitted furniture London If you're in the London area, or just want to browse some of Sofa.com's incredible furniture options online, be sure to check out their website! High quality furniture London Primark Primark is a budget-friendly British retailer that offers high quality furniture at very affordable prices. This store is perfect for shoppers on a tight budget who want to find stylish, yet affordable furniture. Bespoke cupboards London Prices start at just £5 for a coffee table and can go as low as £2 for a chair. The furniture is also available in a variety of styles and colors, so everyone can find something they love. Furniture makers near me London Primark also offers free delivery on orders over £50 and returns within 28 days if there are any problems with the purchase. So whether you're looking for a new couch or some funky chair cushions, Primark has what you need and won't break the bank. Furniture London The Range If you're looking for high-quality furniture, London has a lot of great stores to choose from. Here are some of the best ones: 1. Liberty – This store is known for its top-of-the-line furniture and accessories. It offers a wide range of brands and items, so you're sure to find something that meets your needs. 2. Harvey Nichols – This store is another great option if you're looking for high-quality products. It has a wide variety of items, including furniture, home decor, and more. 3. Selfridges – If luxury is what you're after, then Selfridges is the place to go. It has a wide selection of furniture, bedding, and other items that will make your home feel like a hotel suite. 4. John Lewis – This store is perfect for anyone who wants quality at a reasonable price. It has a wide range of furniture, bedding, and other items that are sure to meet your needs. Plus, it's always open so you can browse without having to worry about time constraints. 5. House of Fraser – If you're looking for designer furniture at an affordable price, House of Fraser is the place to go. You'll be able to find everything from couches to coffee tables at this store.. John Lewis John Lewis is a venerable British department store that has been in operation for over 130 years. The retailer is known for its high quality products and excellent customer service. John Lewis has locations in London, Manchester, Birmingham, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Belfast and Cardiff. Bed, Bath and Beyond If you're in the market for furniture, Bed, Bath & Beyond is a great place to look. This chain offers high-quality products at prices that don't break the bank. Plus, their customer service is excellent. One thing to keep in mind is that not all of their products are made in the U.S. For example, they sell a lot of furniture made in China. That said, they do carry some American-made items as well. In terms of style, Bed, Bath & Beyond has something for everyone. They have traditional furniture like sofas and chairs as well as more modern pieces. And if you're looking for something special, you can always find something there that no one else has. Argos If you're looking for a high-quality furniture store in London, then look no further than Argos. Not only do they offer top-of-the-line products at competitive prices, but their customer service is also exemplary. Whether you need help finding the right piece of furniture for your home or just need to chat about a purchase, the staff at Argos will be more than happy to help you out. Plus, if you don't find what you're looking for on their shelves, don't worry - they offer a wide range of customization options when it comes to assembling your new piece of furniture. So whether you're in need of a new settee or an entire bedroom suite, be sure to check out Argos - they won't disappoint! Homebase If you're looking for high-quality furniture, London has a number of stores that offer the best products. Some of the top furniture stores in London include Hartnell and Furniture Village, both of which have a wide range of high-quality furniture. If you're looking for unique items, then check out Hawkins & Thompson or Molteni & Cie. If you're on a budget, don't worry; many of the top London furniture stores offer discounted prices on selected items. In addition, many stores offer free delivery and installation services. So whether you're looking for traditional pieces or something more contemporary, there's a store in London that offers the perfect selection and quality of products. Waitrose If you're looking for high-quality furniture at an affordable price, look no further than Waitrose. Not only does this store offer some of the best prices around, but their products are also of exceptional quality. One example of this is the range of sofas they offer. While other stores may only offer a few low-quality options, Waitrose has a wide variety to choose from, all of which are highly rated by customers. In addition to furniture, Waitrose also sells a wide variety of cooking and baking supplies. This makes it the perfect place to go if you're looking for ingredients for a new recipe or just need some basics to get started. Overall, Waitrose is one of London's best options when it comes to finding high-quality furniture and cooking supplies at an affordable price. Ikea If you're looking for quality furniture at an affordable price, Ikea is definitely the store for you. Not only do they offer great prices on their products, but their furniture is usually of high quality as well. If you're looking to buy new furniture, be sure to check out Ikea first.

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sofamakers-blog · 2 years

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Why should you refurbish your commercial wooden furniture?

Appearances do not matter – this is a very inspiring and motivating statement however this meaning heavy statement has been losing its relevance. Research shows that physical appearances have a huge and meaningful impact on life experiences and opportunities. While that holds true for an individual, the impact of the statement is 100 times over, when it comes to commercial spaces like offices, hotels, resorts, and other enterprises.

Especially in the hospitality industry like hotels, resorts where appearances have the highest impact on the business, furniture plays a very important role. Well-maintained elegant Antique / wooden furniture is durable with a longer lifespan, accentuates the beauty of the space, and adds value to the holistic experience in any hotel or resort. Guests are always inclined to clean, attractive furniture, and the hotel’s decor and stylish amenities. Hence it is very important to maintain the pristine look and feel of the wooden furniture on the premises.

Why does commercial furniture need refurbishing?

Though it is possible to replace the entire furniture in the office every once in a while, it is not feasible because replacing the furniture is an expensive affair.

The furniture in Offices and commercial spaces like hotels and spas are heavily used than residential furniture.

Commercial wooden furniture is subject to rough handling and abuse every single day.

More importantly, commercial furniture lacks the extra layers of protection and careful handling.

This leads to visible wear and tear of the furniture resulting in everything from simple scratches to serious breakage and cracks.

What’s the solution?

An easy, efficient and affordable solution to restore the pristine look and brand-new life to your commercial furniture is Refinishing your commercial furniture. It can help restore the original shine and sturdiness of your furniture. Or you can also refurbish the furniture to give a completely new look at just a fraction of the cost of brand-new items.

Advantages:

Economically feasible

Aesthetically Pleasing

Eco-minded

Functional

#sofa repair near me #sofa repair services near me #sofa upholstery near me #recliner repair near me #sofa renovation near me #sofa makers near me #sofa repair in bangalore #sofa service in bangalore #sofa renovation in bangalore #sofa cleaning in bangalore #sofa polishing in bangalore #leather sofa upholstery in bangalore #leather sofa reburishment in bangalore #sofa fabric change in bangalore #customised sofa maker in bangalore

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos.

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob.

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created.

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all.

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands.

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part.

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed.

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week.

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head.

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end.

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught.

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks.

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum.

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core.

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air.

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

#hawks smut #hawks x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The Fourth Year (Part II) - Chapter 5

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapter Words: 11.433K (they keep getting bigger and bigger don’t they?)

Authors note: I told myself i would only updated this once i finished writing two chapters ahead, but here we are. I hope everyone has a good reading, please let me know what you think and if you have any questions regarding the story i’m as lost as you are but i believe everything will make sense at the end.

//-//-//-//-//

When you woke up in the morning, you were really irritated.

Not having slept very well, both because of the time you went back to bed, and because of the strange dreams with red lights that you kept having, you were really sleepy when you had to get up.

And well, the first class was History of Magic, so the universe was not in your favor.

But you were quite surprised when you reached Professor Okoye's classroom and found a small crowd of students waiting at the door.

"What's going on?" You asked Quill as soon as you identified him in the crowd, Mantis right behind you.

"I don't think we're going to have class today." He replied while looking into the room. You copied his movement, and could see the teacher moving the tables and chairs in the room away to the corner, leaving a nice clear space. When she was finished, she waved for everyone to come in.

You stood with Quill and Mantis and the rest of the students scattered around the room, and the teacher in the center. She closed the door with a wave of her wand as they all entered, a small smile on her lips.

"I have an announcement to make, students." She begins. "According to the traditions of the triwizard tournament, the host school must organize a winter ball during christmas night after the first task." She tells and has to raise her voice a bit because the students start talking to each other excitedly. "And as head of the Gryffindor house, renowned for its chivalry, I was made responsible for organizing dance class sessions." She pauses briefly, looking at the students until they fall silent. "I also expect the Hufflepuff house to behave as respectfully as my Gryffindor students, since the honorable Helga Hufflepuff was known for her great charity balls."

With a wave of Okoye's wand, a cabinet in the corner of the room opens, and out of it flies a small music organ to the corner of the room. When she waves it again, a soft melody fills the entire room.

"Let's begin."

//-//

It is only at lunchtime that you get to talk to Wanda. And your feet still hurt from the times Quill stepped on them during the dance class.

You throw your bag on the Slytherin bench and sit down next to Wanda, looking at her expectantly. The girl makes a confused frown.

"What?" she asks with a slight humor in her voice.

"Really, Wands?" You reply in the same tone. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"The tournament."

Wanda rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the plate in front of her. You frown at the way she is being casual about it.

"What about the tournament?"

You let out a short laugh.

"What do you mean “what about the tournament”? You're the champion of Hogwarts! The underage champion of Hogwarts!" You clarify, but Wanda doesn't look at you. You blink in confusion, and reach your forearm down on the table, touching her lightly so that she looks at you. Your chest aches as she pulls her arm away. "What's wrong?"

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair lightly.

"I just don't want to hear about how I'm an irresponsible cheater or how dangerous the tournament is." She replies looking at you.

"I wasn't going to say that." You retort, and Wanda rolls her eyes, which irritates you. "You haven't even heard what I have to say and you've already drawn your own conclusions."

Wanda clenches her jaw, her cheeks slightly reddened.

"And what do you have to say about it then?"

"I was gonna offer to help you practice for the tasks!" You clarify angrily. And Wanda blinks in confusion. You turn your face forward next, crossing your arms. Arguing with Wanda was absolutely the worst.

It takes a moment, but her posture softens completely and she sighs, reaching out for your arm afterwards.

"Hey." She calls tenderly, but you continue to stare straight ahead. "Hey, I'm sorry. Look at me."

You slowly turn to the side, looking down at your lap. Wanda waits for you to look up, and when you do, she gives you a weak smile.

" I'm sorry." She repeats, and you sigh, nodding. Wanda bites her lip, looking at you for a moment. "I need to tell you something. Is about..."

Wanda falls silent as your friends arrive at the table, commenting excitedly on the news of the dance that has already spread throughout the school. She sighs softly, straightening herself to look forward. You bite the inside of your cheeks, curious to know what she was going to say, but not wanting to press her.

When Nebula and Gamora sit across from you, you strain to pay attention to their conversation.

"But Wanda, tell us, what is it like to be a Hogwarts champion?" Gamora asks after the topic about the ball closes. Wanda tenses momentarily, and you want to ask why Pietro is sitting at the other end of the table with boys you don't know instead of with his sister, but the brunette forces a smile and you don't.

"I don't recommend the experience, if you ask me." She retorted with slight irony in her voice, making the group laugh. "After the selection, the principals of the other schools were not at all happy about my participation." She counters twisting her fingers lightly. "I think they were questioning the security of the Goblet choice. But Principal Harkness stood up for me, in her own way at least. She insisted that nothing could be done, because the magical contract with the goblet can only be broken with the end of the tournament."

"I imagine you had no idea this was all going to happen when you put your name on the goblet, eh?" Nebula asked wryly, making the group laugh. But Wanda frowned.

"I didn't put my name on the goblet." Wanda declared. Her friends gave a short laugh, thinking she was joking. But the other girl's serious expression makes them look at her in surprise.

"Wait, are you serious?" Gamora questions and Wanda nods, sighing. She exchanges shocked looks with Nebula and Mantis. Next, Gamora looks at you. "I guess that goes on your list of weird things this year, huh?"

You shake your head slightly, not wanting the girl in front of you to mention what happened in the cup, but Gamora is already commenting on your nightmares the next moment.

Wanda turns to you next.

"What nightmares?" She questions, and you sigh, losing your appetite. "And why didn't you tell me about what you saw in the cup? And well, if you were worried, you could have asked if everything was okay with me, we've been at Hogwarts for a month now and..."

"Wanda." You interrupt with a short smile. "Calm down, okay? I was just trying to find the right time to talk to you about everything."

"I am calm, I just want to know why you are hiding things from me! " She hits back and you frown in surprise.

"Look who's talking!"

You regret the way you speak, because Wanda gasps in surprise, her gaze hurt. Your friends witness the discussion intently.

"What did you mean by that?" She retorts angrily.

"You know very well what I meant." You reply in the same tone, feeling your stomach turn in nervousness. "You always hide things, whether with your family, or with your magic! And you won't tell me what's going on with us!"

Wanda looks at you in a mixture of surprise, anger and hurt, and you feel your heart racing. Some students are looking at you curiously, but Wanda's lack of response only disappoints you. You cast her an angry glance before getting up and leaving the hall.

//=//

You feel bad that you have accused Wanda the moment you reach your dorm. You don't know if she has the answers you seek. But you are tired, because it seems that everyone is keeping secrets from you.

Throwing yourself down on the sofa, you sigh as you close your eyes. You don't feel like studying right now, but soon you have a Defense Against the Dark Arts period and you need to get up. You don't rush, though, using all the remaining time at lunch to calm yourself, trying to push out the thoughts that you and Wanda would no longer be friends.

Mantis meets you at the door to the communal hall as soon as you leave, and you thank her for bringing your backpack back.

"Are you okay?" She asks as you both walk toward the tower.

"Yeah, it was just a silly argument." You mumble clumsily.

"Wanda was pretty upset after you left." She counters, and you mutter in understanding. "I hope you two can make up soon."

"Me too."

When you arrived at the D.A.D.A. room, few minutes later, you grumbled softly because you could only find chairs in the front, and students who sat near Professor Fury were always called in.

The professor entered soon after, his long black cape dragging across the floor, and the customary eye patch hiding a scar on his face.

"Good afternoon, everyone." He announced loudly as he entered, and waited until everyone was seated to begin. Drawing out his wand, he charmed the chalk on the blackboard to write the subject of the day. Some buzz began to circulate as the words "unforgivable curses" formed on the board. "Who here can tell me what the unforgivable curses are?"

The room was completely silent. Fury walked between the tables.

"No one?" He asked. "How disappointing."

You knew that no one answered the question because it was a huge taboo in the witch community to talk about the dark arts so freely. Professor Fury seemed to know that too, and that only seemed to make him angry.

“Unforgivable curses are three of the most powerful and sinister spells in the world of magic.” Fury explains next. “Their use is forbidden in all magical communities, and if a wizard or witch casts any of them on another wizard or witch, they will receive a sentence in Azkaban.”

Fury made another motion with his wand and the closet at the back of the room opened, a small cage secured in an iron compartment with wheels crawled to the front.

You and the rest of the room let out exclamations of surprise as you observed the creature inside. A large, hairy spider, very scary. Mantis shrank into the chair beside you.

"As an antidote to your ignorance, I recommend that you read the book of this subject before the next class, and bring me two scrolls about the first three chapters, specifying the history of the prohibition of unforgivable curses." Professor Fury then announced, drawing an unsatisfied buzz from the students. The room fell silent the next minute, however, as the professor opened the cage.

The spider moved on the iron, looking practically startled and shrinking into the cage.

"The first unforgivable curse is the command curse." Fury explained, pointing his wand at the bug next. "Imperio."

You and the rest of the students watched in shock as the small crystallized flash came from the tip of the wand to the creature, which stretched its legs and then moved outward. It wasn't hard to deduce that it was Professor Fury who was controlling the spider, since from the movement of his wand, it was moving.

"The Imperium curse consists of absolute control of another living being." Fury told as he moved the spider around the room, drawing exclamations of fear and shock. "You see, during the last witch war, many sorcerers claimed that they were only fighting for Mephisto because of this curse."

The mention of Mephisto made everyone hold their breath, but the professor didn't stop talking.

"The ministry found an efficient way to find out who was lying." He counters with a short smile. Bringing the spider back to the front of the room, to his desk for all to see, he holds it still. "You will find out eventually, children, that moral lines are usually broken during wars."

You exchanged a look with your colleagues, all clearly surprised and frightened. Fury cleared his throat, pointing his wand at the spider.

"Crucio" He spoke and unlike the other, no light came out. The spider cringed, making a high-pitched noise that filled the entire room. You understood that it was screaming in pain, and you felt your stomach clench. Before you knew it, you stood up abruptly, the noise attracting everyone's attention.

"Stop it!" You shouted angrily. "Can't you see you're hurting her?"

The teacher stopped, and you tried to control your uncompensated breathing. He cleared his throat, ignoring the buzz in the room as he extended his hand to the spider, which obediently climbed into his hand.

He turned to you, placing the animal on your desk, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the back of the room, knowing exactly what was coming. Professor Fury looked at the creature with contempt.

"The last unforgivable curse is the killing curse." He explains. "Avada Kedavra."

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling your body tremble. When you look down, the spider was dead. The room in complete silence.

You look at Professor Fury with watery eyes.

"No one should survive this curse." He tells you. Before you can say anything, he softens his expression, looking around. "And none survived, of course. Now, why aren't you guys writing down what I said?"

You don't feel very well for the rest of the class.

//-//

The vast majority of the students seem far more impressed with how dark Fury's classes have become than afraid. You can't say the same, because it seems that every time he has to explain something about dark magic, you feel sick. Gamora tried to cheer you up by joking that auror wouldn't be the right profession for you, but you've been so upset about the absence of Wanda that you've barely been able to smile.

As the first assignment approaches, you want to forget that you fought and apologize, but the girl also seems to be avoiding you, so you do the same.

Pietro has also been distant, and Nebula told you that he and Wanda were not yet on the best of terms, and Pietro was spending much more time with Monica and Darcy than with you all.

When the day of the first task finally arrived, you ignored the fact that you were fighting and went to look for Wanda, unable to ignore the feeling of worry that took over your whole body.

You had no idea what the first task was going to be, but Miss Harkness had asked the whole school to go to the Quidditch field on Saturday, and there were tents set up at the north end. You told Gamora that you would join her in the stands in a moment, that you needed to talk to Wanda first, and you snuck through the crowd to reach the champions' tent area.

"Psst." You called out from between the canvas of the tent, recognizing the gloomy figure sitting in the corner of the place as you entered from the back. Wanda looked around, and then stood up, frowning when she could see your shadow.

Opening the tarp, she looked at you in a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"What do you want here?"

"I didn't come to fight with you." You let her know as you realize the tone in her voice. You bite your lips for a moment, and then sigh. "Damn, I missed you."

Wanda looks away, her cheeks reddening as she crosses her arms. You swallow dryly, ignoring your uncompensated heartbeat.

"Is this what you came for?" She asks half-heartedly, staring at the floor.

"No." You say. "I needed to make sure everything was okay, and I wanted to wish you good luck."

"Why do you care?" She hits back in defiance, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm still your friend, Wanda." You reply. "We fought, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore."

Wanda looks away again, and you switch the weight on your foot.

"Well, that was it." You say. "Good luck to you."

"Thank you." She mumbles without looking at you. When you turn around, her arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. Wanda rests her head on your back and sighs, and you recover from the surprise, caressing her hands resting on your belly with your thumbs. Before you can turn to correspond properly, she releases you. "Now get out of here before a teacher sees you."

You smile at her before walking away.

//-//

Wanda would confront a dragon. You think you're controlling yourself pretty well despite everything.

She was going to be the last to do so, but your heart was already racing from the moment Principal Harkness walked to the center of the Quidditch pitch and after making the general announcements, nodded toward the locker room area that had been enchanted so that the beast could hide inside. The next minute there were witches bringing a dragon into the stadium and the crowd screamed with excitement and fear.

The champions needed to capture the golden egg for the second task, and well, everyone was curious to know how they would do it.

Gamora handed you a small booklet, and you frowned when you realized that it was an enchanted betting chart. She gave you a little smile, waving to someone behind her, and you noticed that almost all the people were betting on the winners, and the game flyers were circulating around the stands. You felt your stomach turn as you watched the enchanted drawing of a dragon spit fire at the image of three witches.

You ended up handing the flyer to Mantis and didn't bet on anyone, focused on watching the task.

Jean Grey captured the egg in fifteen minutes. She took on the Common Welsh Green dragon, and everyone was impressed to watch her use a mirroring spell to confuse the dragon about the true location of the golden egg. She finished the task unhurt, and unseen and you joined the crowd in cheering, watching her receive the perfect score.

Maria Hill was injured in her ordeal, but this certainly brought a lot more entertainment to the audience. She faced the Norwegian Crested Back, and tried to bewitch the dragon with a sleeping spell, but the creature awoke as soon as she reached for the egg.

The audience screamed with excitement as the dragon began to spit fire everywhere, furious. Fortunately, Maria only had minor burns, as she was able to charm the beast again. Her score was lower than Jean's, but still high.

When Wanda's turn came, many of the Gryffindor students began to boo, and you clenched your jaw.

You relaxed momentarily when Wanda looked around the audience, smiling at you before focusing on the creature in front of her.

"That one looks bigger than the other two, huh?" you grumble to Gamora with concern as you observe the beast in the center of the field.

"Maybe he's more docile." She remarks, but it's not true, especially since the next second the creature roars ferociously as it notices Wanda approaching.

The Ukrainian Iron Belly moved his long tail around the field, the iron chains swinging as he did. Wanda was holding her wand, hiding behind a rock. You can barely hear the crowd with the ringing in your ears, your heart racing a thousand an hour in your chest.

As Wanda approaches again, trying to bewitch the beast, the Iron Belly roars, raising its tail in the air to strike her. You blink in astonishment as you watch a shield spell form around Wanda. She rolls across the field, faster than the beast, and runs to reach the egg.

She casts a spell on its snout that leaves it bewildered long enough for her to grab the prize.

On the way back, the creature wags its tail rapidly across the field, roaring with irritation, and hits Wanda in the back, throwing her a few meters forward.

"Y/N what are you doing? Put that away!" Gamora warns you at the next second. You blink in confusion, realizing that you have your wand in hand, raising it in front of you. Gamora lowers your hands, and because of all the commotion, no one else seems to notice. She looks at you with concern, but you feel your mouth go numb; you need to help Wanda.

"Let me go, Wanda needs me." You grumble pushing her hands away, and hurrying to get down from the bleachers. Gamora calls out to you but you don't turn around.

The test continues on the field next to you, but you have to look forward to get down, pushing people aside as you rush to catch up to Wanda, your wand vibrating in your fingers as the rest of your body.

Professor Heimdall stops you at the edge of the stands.

"I need you to focus on my voice, Stark." He asks as he places his hands on your shoulders. You gasp in surprise, trying to turn your head to look at the field, but the firm grip holds you in place.

"Let me go." You ask panting, a pain beginning to well up in your head. "Wanda is in danger."

"Look at me." He commands as he lifts his thumbs to your cheek, pinning your face to look at him. You stare at the yellow irises feeling your breath hitch. You need to help Wanda. But somehow, as the seconds tick by, the yellow eyes are all you can think about. "Pull yourself together. Can't you hear the celebration from the audience? Wanda has completed the test. She is safe."

You choke on the professor's words, feeling an urge to cry with relief. He keeps his expression serious, though.

"Pull it together. Keep your wand away." He commands. "Don't tell anyone about this, not everyone is your friend here."

"W-what?"

But Professor Heimdall lets you go, quickly taking your wand and putting it back in your cloak pocket. He looks around, and smiles at someone behind you. Only now you notice the celebratory noise around you, and you turn around. The crowd is descending, and Principal Harkness is announcing the final scores.

Your friends are coming toward you, happy and smiling. Professor Heimdall steps aside to join the teachers' group, and then you are being dragged with your friends to the center of the field, along with the rest of the crowd celebrating the end of the task. You hear fireworks and shouts of victory, but your gaze is searching for Wanda.

She is shaking hands with the Minister of Magic, Johann Shmidt, and you gasp when you catch sight of her. She has barely turned toward you, smiling and waving shyly when she realizes that you and your friends are coming to greet her, when you run toward her, throwing your arms around her when you reach her.

"Wow." She gasps in surprise, but hugs you back, chuckling softly. You don't let go, and soon your friends are hugging you two too. And they are laughing and celebrating, and you are holding back your tears, not understanding why the possibility of losing Wanda seems worse than death.

//-//

Things get better after the first task. After you left the Quidditch camp, you joined the celebration in the Slytherin communal hall, which was filled with people from all the houses.

All the students who had stood against Wanda before she defeated the dragon now seemed keen to become her friends, praising her and congratulating her on the way she killed the beast.

You still don't understand what exactly happened, but Wanda used some spell that hit the creature in the heart, and well, killing the dragon earned her first place. The other directors were not happy with the judge's decision, but the rest of the school certainly liked it.

You are in the corner of the room, surrounded by your friends and Tony's friends, trying to stay sociable while ignoring how tired you feel.

"Why are you so quiet?" Gamora asks you softly, noticing your lack of enthusiasm to join in the explosive snap game that Quill has just suggested to everyone.

"It's nothing." You lie forcing a smile. Professor Heimdall's words still echoing in your head. "I'm just not in the mood to party. I guess I'm sleepy."

Gamora murmurs in understanding, assessing your face for a few moments. But Nebula is pulling her sister over to look at the items Tony got on his last trip to Hogsmeade, and you don't join in the conversation.

Your gaze searches for Wanda, who is locked in conversation with a seventh grader who has never spoken to you guys before, but seemed very willing to become Wanda's friend now that she has become a champion.

You were thinking of waiting until Wanda had finished talking to the girl to say good-bye, but then you felt irritation boil up in the pit of your stomach as you watched the older girl toss her hair to the side, her hand running up Wanda's arm, as Wanda gave her a wry smile.

You really didn't want to watch Wanda flirting with anyone, so you hurried out of the dorm, hopefully everyone would be busy enough with the party to notice.

Outside, as you turned the corner, you saw something you didn't want to see.

Tony and Steve were kissing against a wall, your brother's hands inside the other boy's shirt. You let out a loud exclamation of shock, covering your eyes.

"God, get a room!" You complained loudly with your eyes closed, feeling your cheeks very hot. You heard Tony and Steve giggle, and waited a moment to open your eyes, only to find Steve very red, looking away, and your brother with his arms crossed.

"Don't be such a baby." He teased. "One of these days I'm going to find you like this."

You choke lightly, letting out an indignant laugh.

"Excuse me, but I don't want to hook up with anyone in the corners of the castle." You mumble in embarrassment, and Tony exchanges a look with Steve, letting out a chuckle.

"Damn, do girls go through puberty later or something?" He teases and you look at him wide-eyed. "I'm teasing you little sister, no need to freak out about it." He mocks as he pulls Steve by the sleeve, when he is walking away, he turns his head to you again. "Let me know if you change your mind, I bet Natasha that you were going to propose to Wanda this year!" He shouts before turning down the hall, leaving you behind with cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You figure you'd better get back to the dorm before you run into some teacher.

//-//

You have another nightmare during the night. As real as the vision you had during the quidditch cup. You see the graveyard and the red light, but this time, it is you who is attacking. You wake up in fright, but feeling absolutely exhausted, you go back to sleep almost immediately afterwards. This time you dream of someone holding your hand.

//-//

"Have you decided who you're going to ask to the dance?" It is the first question Gamora asks you during breakfast, and you choke on your pumpkin juice. She ignores your reaction and continues talking. "By the way, where were you last night?"

"I told you I was tired." You reply wiping up the juice you spilled with a napkin. "I went back to my dorm."

"You missed the best part of the party." She retorted excitedly. "Some Ravenclaw kids conjured up a fireworks dragon and someone handed out candy from Honeydukes to everyone."

"Sounds amazing." You grumble before going back to eating. Gamora looks at you expectantly, and you sigh, understanding that she is waiting for you to answer her first question. "I don't know if I want to go to the dance."

"You’re not going to the dance?" It is Wanda who asks as she arrives at the table. You almost choke again, but just roll your eyes at the insinuating look Gamora gives you as Wanda sits down.

"Oh, she's just saying that because no one invited her." Gamora teases with an insinuating tone, and you try to hit her but she laughs as she moves away from your grasp.

"You know, you can ask someone if you want to. You don't have to wait for the invitation." Nebula then suggests, and you are surprised because she wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, a spell book laid out in front of her. "Unless you're afraid of rejection."

"What is it with you guys today?" You mutter irritatedly, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you observe the insinuating glances of the two girls in front of you. "Besides, why are you talking about invitations, Gamora? Who invited you?"

Gamora lets out a shy giggle, and then looks away. She nods toward Quill, and you let out a surprised exclamation.

"And you're just telling me this now?" You retort excitedly.

"You're the one who left the party yesterday!" She replies. "He invited me last night, and I was going to tell you, but you left without even looking back."

You roll your eyes with amusement.

"Are you really waiting for someone to invite you?" Wanda asks next, and you look at her, feeling your heart miss a beat. What the hell is going on with you lately?

"I... well, I don't know." You answer clumsily. "I haven't really thought about it.”

"But you want to be asked?" Wanda inquires and you swallow dryly.

"I don't know, maybe."

"But if someone were to invite you now, would you like it?"

"I..."

"God, just ask her at once!" Gamora interrupts impatiently, causing you and Wanda to look at her wide-eyed. Nebula lets out a chuckle, without looking away from the book on your desk. Gamora gestures in Wanda's direction. "Sorry, girls, I just got a little carried away. Please, Wanda, continue with your embarrassing attempt to ask the dumbest person in this school to the dance."

You mumble clumsily, feeling your cheeks warm. Wanda giggles.

The brunette next to you pokes you lightly in the ribs, and waits for you to look at her again before speaking.

"Gamora's right, actually." She says shyly, and you feel your heart speed up. "All champions need to dance at the ball, and well, the first person I thought of asking was you." She confesses quickly. "But it's okay if you don't want to go..."

"No!" you interrupt quickly, feeling your face hot. You smile next. "I'd love to go to the dance with you, Wands."

Wanda looks at you for a few seconds, and you look back. Your stomach flipping with nervousness.

"I'm getting diabetes." Nebula comments next, breaking the moment. Gamora laughs, pushing her shoulder lightly against her sister as you and Wanda look forward uncomfortably.

"Stop it, they're adorable." Gamora hits back with a smile, you clear your throat, feeling embarrassed as you pretend to pay attention to the daily prophet lying on the table and not the presence of the brunette next to you or the comments of your friends.

//-//

Things go well between you and Wanda after that. The discussion you two had is long forgotten. You imagine that Gamora and Tony think that as you begin to help Wanda try to decipher the egg, that you have mentioned to her the connection you have been feeling, but you have not yet found the moment to speak up.

You told her about the other things, though. About the sky mark on the Quidditch canopy, and Tony's investigation of your father and the followers of Mephisto. Wanda was also surprised to learn that Howard and Erik had been friends in school days, but she knew as little as you did about all the issues. You felt bad for having accused her of hiding things from you, and bought Honeydukes candy to apologize.

And so time passed, and the day of the winter ball finally arrived.

To say that you were looking forward to it was an understatement. And you weren't the only one, as during the whole day, the vast majority of the students talked only about this.

Your prom outfits arrived the same day during breakfast. You had written to Jarvis to buy Gamora's and Nebula's costumes as well, and they were very happy to receive the dresses. Tony had a piece of toast in his mouth when you left his suit that arrived in the same package as yours on the table, before you turned to check your own outfit.

"It's very nice, isn't it?" You commented to Gamora as soon as you held out the material aloft. The girl let out a sigh of excitement.

"My god, you're going to look beautiful!" She exclaims, and then gives you an insinuating look. "In fact, you're already a cutie." She teases with a wink, making you laugh.

"Good morning." Wanda said as she joined you, she widened her eyes slightly when she realized that you were looking at the ball costumes.

"Great, you're here!" Gamora speaks to the brunette excitedly. "I want to see your dress!".

Wanda smiled awkwardly.

"It's in my room." She informs you as she sits down next to Gamora. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but when you notice, she deflects. "You can see it when we go to get ready."

The conversation eventually went in the direction of comparing outfits and forming combinations, and then you thought it best to put your clothes away before they got dirty with some of the delicious food from the breakfast.

//-//

You were a little surprised to hear that the girls were going to start getting ready for the ball as early as the afternoon, but you didn't object to joining them in the Slytherin communal hall, taking your costume package with you.

"Are you going to wear any makeup?" Gamora asked you as you all stood in the Slytherin dormitory bathroom, which had several girls in it. Fortunately the communal hall was the most luxurious in the entire school and had enough space for everyone. You were sitting on one of the sink benches, after showering and putting on your prom costume, waiting for the girls to finish.

"I don't know how to wear makeup, Gamora." You respond by looking at her. She smiles, looking away from the mirror to look at you.

"If you want, I can help you." She says and seeing your hesitation, she smiles. "Only if you want me to, honey."

"I don't know." You say. "Maybe just lipstick."

Gamora laughs lightly, nodding in agreement. Nebula starts complaining loudly next, not being able to button the zippers of her dress properly, and Gamora gives a giggle, stepping aside to help her sister.

"Stop moving." Gamora warns Nebula, and you chuckle at the scene. Wanda is coming out of the cabin she had come in from to put on her dress, and you feel your breath hitch when you see her. She is adjusting the straps and smiles shyly at the look you cast at her, and you do your best to cover it up.

"You look pretty." She comments as she approaches, looking at you for a moment before looking away to the mirror.

"You look beautiful, Wanda." You retort the next moment, half out of breath. Wanda smiles, her cheeks reddening as she keeps her gaze on her own reflection, fixing her hair.

"Wanda, help Y/N with her makeup, I think Nebula messed up her zipper." Gamora asks the next moment, pulling out her wand to concertize her sister's clothes, who fusses impatiently. You and Wanda share a giggle at the scene, but your giggle dies as Wanda approaches you, a lipstick in her hands.

"I think this color suits your costume." She comments with a smile, opening the lipstick and lifting it to your face height. You feel your breath hitch, watching with slightly wide eyes as Wanda stands between your legs and touches your face with her other hand to hold you in place. "Stand still so it doesn't smudge."

You want to tell her you're not going anywhere, but she's putting the makeup on you in the next second. You keep your mouth ajar, trying to ignore the tingling sensation you feel on your skin where Wanda's fingers are touching, or the way your heart is racing. Wanda is concentrating on her task, and bites her lower lip as she puts on your make-up.

"There you go." She whispers as she pushes the lipstick away from your lips, her gaze lingering on your mouth however. The dark glow in her irises makes your stomach do a flip-flop. You think Wanda is going to kiss you, because she is so close and her fingers are still on your chin, and you wish she would.

But Gamora lets out an exclamation of satisfaction as she manages to tidy up her sister's dress, and Wanda frowns, shaking her head slightly as she steps back.

"You look gorgeous, Y/N!" Gamora says as soon as she glances at you, making you smile awkwardly. You're feeling a little out of breath from all the interaction with Wanda, so you just keep your gaze on your own lap, waiting for the girls to finish the finishing touches. Nebula remarks something about a funny story in the Daily Prophet next and you get distracted.

//-//

You are a nervous wreck when you all reach the main hall.

Gamora nods to Quill, standing in the doorway in his dark brown suit, looking very handsome with the tie that matches his eyes. He flashes her a contented smile as they greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. You see Pietro and Monica have entered the room as well, their arms intertwined. Darcy is right behind, accompanied by a girl you don't know.

You clear your throat, turning to Wanda as you stop at the entrance, but Professor Okoye catches up with you before you can ask if Wanda wants to come in yet.

"Maximoff, dear, there you are." Okoye announces sounding rushed. "The dance of champions is about to begin, I imagine you'll be the partner, right miss Stark?"

"R-right, professor." You reply and the woman nods in agreement, grabbing yours and Wanda's arm to drag you to a corner, where the other champions were already waiting. She hurried out the next moment, signaling to the students outside to come in that she needed to announce the start of the dance.

"Are you ready?" you ask Wanda ignoring the nervous feeling in your stomach. The brunette smiles, her hand slipping into yours and making your heart soar.

"I hope I don't stumble." She retorts with a shy smile, you think she looks absolutely stunning.

"Don't worry." You say looking forward, the other champions straightening up to get in line. "I won't let you fall."

//-//

You twist Wanda in your arms to the rhythm of the music, a laugh escaping your lips. This is already the fourth song in a row that you have danced to together, and the feeling is so incredible that you think you will dance all night.

Two more songs later, you feel thirsty and approach Wanda to tell her you'll get a drink for you two, completely oblivious to the way the girl's cheeks flush when you whisper in her ear.

At the drinks table, Gamora approaches you, her cheeks rosy.

"I just kissed Peter!" She announces and you almost knock over the punch.

"What?" you ask in surprise and your sister laughs, maybe from nervousness or excitement, you can't tell. "Did you like it?

"Sure." She assures you with a smile, looking pleased. You make a mental note to tease her about her blushing cheeks another time. "It was weird the first time, but the sensation is really good when you get the rhythm right."

You nod in understanding, not knowing exactly what you can add in this matter.

"And what are you doing here with me? Go kiss your boyfriend!" You tease next, smiling encouragingly and making Gamora laugh. She turns to leave, but then decides to tell you something.

"Don't forget to tell me how it was with Wanda. I think kissing a girl must feel different."

She then leaves, laughing lightly at your shocked expression. Your heart is racing because the only thing you can think about right now is the possibility of kissing Wanda.

Your gaze returns to the dance floor, and you feel your nervousness increase. Wanda dances timidly to the rhythm of the music, her hips swaying and her eyes closed. She looks beautiful. She is beautiful. Out of your reach.

You shake your head to push these thoughts away, and you take a deep breath before walking over to her again with the drinks in your hand.

//-//

After drinking and dancing to three more songs, the band finally changes to a softer melody, and you smile shyly at Wanda as you hold out your hand to her.

With your hands together, you hold Wanda around the waist, and she rests her free hand on your shoulder. She is blushing at the closeness of your faces, so she gives you a shy smile before resting her chin on the hand on your shoulder. You enjoy the proximity as you move slowly to the rhythm of the music.

You close your eyes, feeling quite good this way. In her arms. Peaceful.

When the music ends, it takes a moment for you to move away, your hands remaining together.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and then nods her head to the side to signal you two to leave. You bite your lips as she takes you by the hand to escort you out of the room.

You are too busy thinking about the feeling of your hands intertwined to worry about the path, and are slightly surprised when you end up in an empty room.

Wanda lets go of your hand as you enter. And you close the door as she walks inside. She stops walking when she reaches the teacher's desk, and turns around, leaning against the wood. You watch her twist the rings on her fingers nervously as you walk toward her.

You stop at the desk in front of her, mimicking her motion of leaning against the wood as you risk a glance at her.

"What are we doing here, Wands?" You ask ignoring your heartbeat quickened by the tension in the air.

Wanda looks at you, pressing her lips together for a moment.

"What do you think?" She retorts with slight defiance, and you bite back a smile, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"You... you know we don't have to do anything just because everyone else is doing it, right?" You say, and Wanda lets out a short laugh, looking at you slightly impressed. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that's such a Gryffindor thing to say. Very chivalrous." She teases and you chuckle awkwardly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, I am a hatstall after all." You mutter and Wanda frowns in confusion. You shake your head, briefly mentioning what the sorting hat told you in first year and drawing an impressed exclamation from Wanda.

"That's pretty awesome, you know, right?" she adds with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome indeed." You joke making Wanda laugh.

"Oh, there's the Slytherin part I see." She teases. "But I haven't found your Ravenclaw trait yet, are you sure you inherited the intelligence?"

You pretend to be offended for a moment with a grimace, and Wanda laughs, unconsciously or consciously stepping forward.

"Excuse me, but I am a very competent sorceress." You argue smiling, ignoring the nervousness that grows as the proximity between you two increases. "Best charm student in the whole school."

"Oh, really?" Wanda retorts. "Last time I checked I had that position."

"It's okay, we can share first place." You assure almost in a whisper, Wanda is too close for you to think of adding anything else right now.

"There's the Hufflepuff." She says with a shy smile, approaching you one last time. You can feel her breath against your cheek, the emerald eyes fixed on yours. You swallow dryly, risking a look at the lips so inviting. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

"Not if I kiss you first." You breathlessly challenge, and Wanda smiles before moving forward, both of you closing your eyes at the same time as you meet her halfway.

Her lips were soft, just as you imagined they would be. You swallow hard, feeling your whole body heat up. You stood with your mouths together for a moment, before Wanda pulled away, her breathing uncompensated as much as yours, as your lips tingle.

"Kiss me again." She asks hoarsely, and you move forward. This time it's even better, because Wanda's hands go to your neck and yours to her waist. And when she sighs, you ask for passage with your tongue, following your instincts completely.

The sensation is intoxicating, and sends a shiver through your whole body. Wanda tastes like cherry punch, and you gasp at the sensation of your tongues together, squeezing her waist lightly.

You parted for breath, keeping your foreheads together and your eyes closed.

"Wow." You exclaimed softly breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know." She agrees in the same tone, her hands coming down from your neck to squeeze your shoulders lightly. Wanda kisses you again, her tongue moving against yours slowly, exploring your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation and Wanda pulls away breathlessly, blushing due the sound she has managed to wring out.

"S-sorry." You gasp quickly, feeling your cheeks as hot as the rest of your body.

"Don't be." She says. "That was hot."

You let out a clumsy laugh, and Wanda copies, and the moment dissipates from palpable tension to humorous lightness. You kiss briefly before Wanda circles her arms around your shoulders in a hug that you reciprocate equally.

"Do you want to go back to the party?" You ask when she breaks the embrace, but her hands remain intertwined behind your neck.

"Not really." She replies with a smile, biting her lips as she looks at you. " I just came to be with you."

"Oh, yeah?" You ask with slight teasing, and Wanda lowers her gaze to your lips.

"Hu-huh. And now that I have you, I don't want to let you go."

You smile, lifting your hands to her neck, caressing her nape lightly as you kiss her again, not as intensely as before, and with a smile on your lips.

When you pull away, Wanda is smiling too.

"Don't worry, Wands. I'm not going anywhere."

//-//

After the ball, there is a new tension in your relationship with Wanda that makes you lose focus on anything other than her.

Gamora missed no opportunity to tease you about this. And every time she caught you casting passionate glances at Wanda, or the other way around, you got a wry comment to get a room. It was harmless, but it made you and Wanda both blush like tomatoes.

The best change was the kisses.

They could happen suddenly, or be almost planned. Wanda liked to take you by surprise, you could tell. Stealing firm kisses between corridors that made you blush and clumsy, or kisses when you spent time together with your friends, and her hand slipped into yours.

You loved all the kisses she wanted to give you. But you had your favorites. The ones that happened when you were alone, and all you could think about was Wanda. They were usually planned, because to have free time, without friends, you need a little organization. So they usually happened when you went to Hogsmeade together, or when you helped her study for the tournament. It was amazing to finish a study session with Wanda's mouth on yours.

But you knew you still needed to talk to her. You were afraid you would lose the kisses if you did.

As the date for the second assignment approached, Wanda began to get anxious, because you all still hadn't deciphered the golden egg clue.

At that moment you were in the Slytherin communal room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with many books around you. Wanda was lying on the couch, a book enchanted to be at her eye level. Gamora and Nebula in the armchairs, also reading. You are trying to find some clue to decipher the egg.

"We've tried the basic open and close spells, right?" Gamora asks without taking her eyes off the book, probably reading about what she mention.

"Of course." Wanda replies. She sighs in frustration the next moment, taking the enchanted book off her face, and closing it in her lap. You move your hand to hers, trying to reassure her. "I need to figure this out soon, because the task is in a few weeks."

"We will." You tell her with a smile.

"Just out of curiosity, what happens if you don't break out the clue?" Nebula asks and Wanda sighs.

"I won't have any idea what the second task is about and I won't know how to prepare." She replies. "And then I'll lose and be humiliated in front of the whole school. Feel free to drown me in the great lake if that happens."

Wanda's dramatization makes you all laugh, but then you get an idea and your expression fades. Wanda, who was watching you, looks at you curiously, but you are already getting up, hurrying to get the golden egg that was on the couch.

"What are you going to do?" Gamora asked, as curious as the other girls. You walked over to one of the aquariums and held the egg up high.

"Sorry, folks." You said to the fish, and then opened the clasp. The shrill noise filled the room, but before the girls could complain, you dipped the egg into the water and the sound stopped.

You leaned forward and could hear the low melody.

"I can' believe it." You grumbled contentedly, and then dipped your head into the water. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes.

"Has she finally lost her mind?" Nebula sneered at the other two.

When you surfaced again, you had a smile on your face.

"Girls, it's the merpeople!" You counted excitedly. "That's the clue. I can't believe we stared at the great lake all this time and didn't come up with this idea."

Natasha entered the communal hall next, and when she saw your wet torso, she frowned.

" Should I ask...?" She began with mild irony, watching you take the egg from the aquarium and return to the couches, the water dripping all over the hall.

"She just deciphered the egg!" Wanda warned contentedly, and when you approached, she ran her hands down your neck and gave you a lingering kiss, and you almost dropped the egg on the floor.

"For merlin, get a room." Nat teased before Gamora could do it, and you and Wanda parted with giggles.

You used the wand to dry your body and the floor, returning the egg to Wanda. Nat sat down in one of the free armchairs.

After you finished cleaning up, you repeated the lyrics of the song to them.

"Does that mean you're going to be underwater for an hour?" Nebula questioned in surprise to Wanda, and the girl sighed.

"I guess so." She replied thoughtfully. "And now I'm going to need to figure out a way to do that."

"If you were an animagus, you could turn into a fish." Nat mocked making the group smile.

"I thought you'd have a better resistance to holding your breath, Wands. Since you're kissing all the time." Nebula added and Gamora and Nat laughed, while you rolled your eyes awkwardly, and Wanda raised her middle finger at the girl, her cheeks flushed.

"Let's focus, please." Asked the sorceress in front of you, embarrassed by the teasing.

"Yes, yes." Gamora agreed, gesturing. She settled herself in the armchair before speaking again. "I think you could use some plants. I'm sure Mantis must know some herb that will make you breathe underwater."

"Speaking of Mantis, where is she?" Nat asked and you turned your head in her direction.

"She has private lessons with Professor Heimdall, Tasha." You explained. "Of divination. She's pretty good, I think."

Nat murmurs in understanding, and Wanda says she will talk to Mantis about it when she is free. You gather up the books, and decide to spend some time playing chess and drinking tea now that you no longer have to worry about unraveling the egg.

//-//

You miss many opportunities to tell Wanda about your connection with her. That's because you have too many moments alone, between conversations and make-out sessions, and you just don't tell. And the feeling of keeping something from her corrupts you inside, but you bear it.

And then the date for the second task comes, and you're a nervous wreck, and Wanda doesn't understand why you're especially affectionate this morning, but she's not complaining.

Mantis got some kind of plant for her, which would give Wanda enough time to stay submerged as long as necessary.

You and the girls had also practiced swimming in the great lake with Wanda many times since the day you discovered the clue. And the vision of Wanda in her swimsuit was still preserved somewhere in your mind.

"Have you seen Pietro anywhere?" Wanda asked annoyed, looking around as you all had breakfast. The vast majority of the school was already on their feet as well, excited for the start of the task.

"I last saw him last night, after we went to Quidditch practice." Quill counters distractedly, passing jam on one of the toasts.

"You two had worked things out, right?" You ask as you are sitting next to Wanda, she nods and then sighs.

"I think so." She mumbles. "I wanted to see him before the task."

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing how to help her. It was already time to leave, and you hoped that Pietro wouldn't be so stubborn to stay away from his sister on this day. You kept your hand intertwined in Wanda's all the way, trying to assure her, and she was very grateful.

The clue was right after all. The whole school was carried to the middle of the lake through the boats, up to huge iron bleachers that were conjured up during the night.

"You look so cute in that uniform." You comment in Wanda's ear before bidding her farewell to go up to the bleachers, talking about the Slytherin competition uniform, and smiling at the way her cheeks redden. "Be careful, Wands."

"I will." She assures before kissing you. She joins the champions and you look at her one last time before going upstairs to join the rest of the students.

When Principal Harkness announces the start of the task, after explaining that an important treasure had been taken from the champions and they would need to find it in the lake, you stand with your body tense with nervousness, clenching your hands on the railing as you look down. The whistle sounds and you hold your breath as you watch Wanda dive in.

"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Gamora asks next to you, placing her hand on top of yours on the metal. You swallow dryly, looking away from the lake to her.

"I will." You say trying to force a smile. "As long as she does."

Gamora looks at you a moment, assessing your face.

"I'm sure Wanda will be fine." She says.

You nod, looking down again. Now all that was left to do was wait.

//-//

"Did you hear what Tony just said?"

You blinked a few times. You were in the circle with your friends in the bleachers, and you got distracted again by looking at the lake. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the return of the champions to the surface, talking among themselves and placing bets on the winners. Tony's friends joined in as soon as the task began.

"Sorry, Gamora." You say. "What?"

"Natasha is missing too." She says and you frown in confusion looking at the rest of the group.

"What?"

"Pietro and Tasha, Y/N." Gamora says. "Tony just said they were supposed to meet last night, but she didn't show up. And no one saw her, just like Pietro."

You didn't know exactly what to make of that, but when you looked at the lake, you frowned.

"Gamora, you don't think that..."

"That's exactly what we're thinking." It is Tony who speaks now, looking at your expression and deciphering the idea that has gone through your head. "I just talked to the Durmstrang guys. One of their boys vanishes at night too, I think he's Grey's best friend."

You widened your eyes, and then leaned on the railing, looking down. Tony and Gamora mimicked your position.

"That's insane." Gamora commented, and you nodded in agreement.

"What happens if the champions lose the task?" Tony asked and you shook your head, not liking the possibility.

"I'm sure Professor Harkness wouldn't let anything bad happen." You say. "Right?"

Gamora and Tony murmur in agreement, and you find that your words were more to reassure you than to reassure them.

//-//

With thirty-eight minutes on the clock, Jean Grey emerged from the lake. And she was not alone.

The crowd started cheering as she and Scott Lang, as Harkness announced, swam out of the lake. Reporters from the Daily Prophet were also taking several pictures, and you noticed the Durmstrang flags in the hands of some students.

Your friends seemed reassured to see Scott's condition, deducing that Pietro and Natasha would also be fine. You only felt more nervous because Wanda was still at the lake.

Twelve minutes after Jean, it was Maria Hill's turn to step up. The crowd celebrated as they watched the remainder of her transfiguration into a shark before she returned to human form, bringing Nat with her. You and your friends rushed downstairs to Tasha, but you barely caught Gamora's teasing about the redhead being the treasure of the foreign student, as your gaze was on the lake while you were on the edge.

"Ten minutes to the end of the second task!" Announced one of the judges loudly, causing the crowd to cheer. You felt your stomach drop. Where was Wanda?

And then you saw her. But only inside your head.

It was another vision, and you felt your body go cold as if you were in the lake. It was dark and blue, and you couldn't breathe properly.

Then you blinked and were back in the stands.

With a sob, you jumped into the lake.

Immediately, as soon as you did, the crowd and the teachers looked at you with shock, but you dove in the next.

It was very cold.

The lake was as dark underneath as you thought it would be. And you were gradually running out of air as you sank, but you didn't care. You needed to find Wanda.

When you began to lose consciousness, you thought you saw a light, and struggled to swim a little further. But then your air ran out completely, and you passed out.

//-//

You woke up in a jolt, feeling like you were drowning.

But you were warm, and lying on a soft surface. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was the bed in the infirmary.

The warmth came from the comforter at the level of your neck, clearly bewitching judging by the way it shimmered softly.

"Hey." It was Wanda. At your side. Safe.

You moved out of the covers quickly, your hand reaching for hers on the bed.

"Hey, how are you feeling? You didn't get hurt did you?" The questions escaped your mouth faster than you even thought about them. Wanda had a frown on her face, but she squeezed your hand back and with the other she touched your face, and you leaned into the touch, feeling your body relax.

"I'm fine, I promise." She assures. "I just don't understand why you did that."

"Did what exactly?" You ask confused, trying to remember how you ended up in the infirmary. Had you hit your head somewhere?

Wanda looks at you with confusion.

"Jump in the lake." She clarified. "Why did you jump in the lake after me?"

You blinked in surprise, giving a short laugh.

"What are you talking about, Wands?" you asked. "I was watching you. Are you sure I didn't fall? Maybe I hit my head and..."

"You don't remember?" She interrupts in shock, and then lets out an incredulous sigh. "Okay, now I'm even more worried."

You were feeling your head aching, and you rubbed your fingers over the tip of your forehead a moment, before sighing.

"What happened to you in the task, anyway? You were gone long."

Wanda looked away from yours, biting her lip.

"It was nothing." She grumbled and you frowned.

"Wanda..." You started. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." She retorted snidely. But when she looked at you, she didn't keep her gaze and you sighed, letting go of her hand and throwing yourself back on the bed, feeling frustrated. "I just don't want you to think I'm weird."

You frown at the statement, turning your head to look at her again. Wanda takes a deep breath before confessing.

"I've been having visions in my head."

You think you can laugh at the irony of the facts. Wanda takes advantage of your lack of reaction to continue explaining.

"S-started last year. I... I don't know what they mean, but sometimes they make me too distracted. And well, I had one during the task, and I got lost. So it took me a while to find Pietro, but I was fine." She recounts. "You didn't have to jump in the lake and..."

"I saw you." You interrupt half breathlessly. "In my head. I... I thought you were drowning." You recount recalling, feeling a slight pain deep in your eyes. "It was dark and I felt like I was being pulled under."

Wanda's eyes widen.

"I fought with Grindylows down there for a moment." She says. "They tried to pull me to the bottom, and well, it was quite despairing, but I managed to take them on. It was right after I got lost."

"R-right."

Both of you are silent for a moment, your breaths slightly uncompensated as you try to understand exactly what it all means. You clear your throat deciding to break the silence.

"Wanda, what happened to me?"

"You almost drowned." She says lowering her gaze to the bed. "I found you on the way back. Unconscious." Wanda counters with watery eyes. "For a moment I thought..."

She sighs softly, controlling the urge to cry by shaking her head slightly and forcing a smile. You feel horrible for worrying her like that.

"Heimtall and Strange jumped into the lake a little later behind you. I guess everyone thought you were playing tricks, but when you didn't climb back up they realized something was wrong. I was trying to carry you along with Pietro when they caught up with us."

"Come here." You ask opening your arms and Wanda climbs on the bed, sinking against you. You both immediately relax from the embrace, and you close your eyes as Wanda buries her face in your neck, running her hands behind your back.

"Please don't ever do anything like that again." She whispers against your skin, and you swallow dryly. Judging from the facts, you can't promise her that.

//-//

Your friends came to visit you in the infirmary too. You had a short episode of hypothermia, so Nurse Cho wanted you to rest and had let only Wanda stay to see you. Everyone had agreed that you would like to see her first.

Tony told the teachers and judges that he had dared you to jump in the lake, and even though your friends didn't understand why Tony didn't want the adults to know what was going on with you lately, they all backed up the story.

You and Tony ended up with a month's detention for this.

The only relatively good thing about this whole story was that you and Wanda shared the same experiences. You told her about your visions and nightmares, and she told you about hers. Visions of red lights as her powers, and masked witches.

You talked to Wanda about your connection on a rainy Thursday in May. You both were on your bed in the dormitory, a few spell books between you to finish the lesson Professor Stephen had passed on, and Wanda was concentrating, the strands of brown hair falling down her face as she bit the end of her pencil and read the words in front of you. She was beautiful, and you were in love. And you could no longer hide it.

"I need to tell you something."

Wanda looked at you with a mildly surprised expression, but smiled, shifting on the bed to look at you.

You watched her expression go from confused, to embarrassed, and then to worried in a few seconds after the words "There's something weird going on with me. I think I'm magically connected to you, and I'm not just talking about liking you" came out of your mouth. And then you told about the way you felt every time you thought of her in danger, and Wanda swallowed dryly, looking away.

"I don't know what to say." She confessed clumsily, and then clasped her hands to her face for a moment in frustration. "Shit, I have no idea what that means."

You sighed, reaching out to reach for her hand on the bed. Wanda watched your fingers together, and you frowned as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm putting you in danger, aren't I?" She asked in a whisper, and you looked at her with confusion, but she didn't wait for you to speak. "I'm talking about the lake. You almost drowned to follow me. What happens if I get hurt?"

"Wanda..."

"No." She interrupts forcing a smile, and releasing his hand. "Do you realize how dangerous magical connections can be? What happens if, I don't know, the third task is even more dangerous? Will you throw yourself in front of some other monster? How far does it go? I don't want your life to depend on mine!"

Wanda stands up, babbling nervously about things that might happen, and you look at her in surprise, standing up as well. You try to touch her shoulder, but she pushes your hand away.

"Do you even know if you really like me? If it isn't just because of the magic?" She accuses and you take a step back.

"Don't say that." You retort starting to feel irritated and hurt.

"No, I mean it." She repeats in a whiny voice. "How can you be sure your feelings are real? It could just be the magic and.... "

"I am in love with you." You interrupt, but Wanda just shakes her head in disbelief, letting the tears flow. When you try to touch her again, she sobs and pulls away. "Wanda, I really am. Please..."

"Stop." She gasps as she pulls further away. "Just stop." She asks and you hold yourself in place, feeling your face wet. Wanda takes a deep breath, wiping away her tears. "I need time. I don't...I don't know what to make of this right now."

You swallow dryly, looking at her in shock.

"I don't want us to end." You say and Wanda just sobs softly, shaking her head.

"I can't stay with you without knowing if what you feel for me is real." She retorts in a voice hoarse from crying, but her gaze doesn't flinch. Your stomach turns the wrong way, because you feel terrible. "I need time to think. And I can't think with you by my side."

"Wanda..."

"I'm sorry."

Then she left. And you let the tears flow freely.

//-//

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