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lottie150209 · 1 month

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John Price fingering you in front of the mirror, x afab fem reader, MDNI !!!

tags: John price smut, Price cod, John price, Captain john price x reader, Captain price, Price x reader, call of duty smut, cod smut, cod price, john price x reader, captain john price

cw: Mirror kink, “Good girl”, reader gets fingered

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m sorry I haven’t really uploaded much life’s been a bit busy!! I’m working on some things rn but the motivation to keep writing is really low but i’ll power through no doubt 👍👍 enjoy!!!! ps: I barley proof read it 😭

John Price was a mad man; a fucking machine. Built like a superhero, covered in dirt with that sexy beard of his but god damn you’d let him do the unspeakable to you.

He could fuck for hours, for nights- you swore if he had enough energy he could go on for days. But one thing he struggled to do was finger you.

You felt a bit embarrassed to ask why as you always assured him it felt good but the disgruntled expression and sigh he makes when he pulls out of you made you worry. You began to wonder if it was something wrong with you and that’s the reason why.

In your head it made sense, him making it plainly obvious he didn’t want to do it every-time it was over but your mind always made something up to contradict your theory.

If he hated it so much why did he enjoy eating you out? Why would he throw you in the bed, staring at your pussy hungry before attacking your clit fast and hard like the military captain he is? And if he hated fingering you so much why did he offer?

Why did he do that?

You stretched your legs out under your office chair before packing your bag and leaving work, on your way home. Tonight was the night you were going to ask him, embarrassing or not. You couldn’t let your dwelling and overthinking cluster up your head any longer, it was time.

You opened the gate to your rustic home and headed for the big door. The house you two had bought was quiet old and elegant and you’d loved it so much, decorating the decaying walls and overgrown garden and making it your own. You loved the style and it made you feel cozy, this was your dream house.

The door shut behind you and the farmilliar scent of vanilla candles and firewood cascaded through the walls as the fire cracked beside you. You hung up your coat and dumped your bag on the floor.

“Baby? Where are you?” You called and after hearing a couple strained grunts you heard Price yell back a ‘Here’ from upstairs. Curiosity flooded your mind and you jogged up the stairs and pushed open your bedroom door to see him crouched on the floor, tool kit sprawled behind him and a screw driver in his hand.

“What the fuck is that?” The laughter of your voice falling through as you store at the mirror nailed to the wall, it was huge. Something out of a ballet studio and you turned back to him, heavy breathing and whipping the sweat off of his pink face.

“Thought you’d like it, pretty big though.” Yeah, just a little. Head to toe taking all the room and right in-front of the bed, how amazing. Cant wait to wake up to my own reflection.

“Doesn’t exactly go with the rustic design of the house does it?” But all he did was laugh and pull you closer, giving you a sloppy but loving kiss on the lips as you tried to wriggle away. His hands clasped around you waist and you remembered what you were going to ask him. Your mouth fell ajar but before you could speak he was dragging along the wide wooden chair to sit on before placing it infront of the mirror and take a seat.

“Want to know what it’s for?” He asked, words laced with something you couldn’t put your tongue on but you hesitantly nodded, wondering why he bought this. It must’ve costed a lot, and it was rather beautiful, it was as clear as glass. Why did he get this.

Price smirked letting a deep chuckle through his tight lips before patting his laps for you to sit. You sat down hesitantly and glacéd in the mirror at you two, his hands around your waist, just above your black skirt and eyes locked onto you. His left hand trailed up towards your neck sending tingles down your body and dampening your panties again. His other creeping closer down and rubbed your thigh soothingly.

“When I finger you love, I struggle a lot. I know you notice and I want to let you know why I struggle.” His hand reached your neck just below your chin and he tilted your neck back so your head laid on his strong shoulder, still looking at yourself in the mirror, with him in control.

"I love to see my fingers inside you, your cum gushing out after i finger you, but i also love to see your little face. Your cute little scrunched eyes, mouth wide open out of pleasure.” You couldn’t fight back the small whimper you let out as his hands on your thigh slowly rose higher, slipping comfortably under your skirt.

“But darling i’m getting old now, aren’t I? It’s too hard to look up then down then up- I miss a few things and I don’t like missing.” His seductive grin send pools of lava to your stomach and your thighs tensed under his hands as his thick fingers grazed the soft fabric of your panties. Teasing you and loving every fucking second.

“But fuck, from this angle? I can see all of you, all of you at once. Your breathing, face, pussy, everything and I love it.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment and you felt your face burn while he slid your underwear down slowly and gently tapped against your precious sensitive skin.

Tracing slowly down your wet slit coating himself in your taste. He groaned at the feeling kissing your temple while his finger prodded into your entrance greedily. Next time he will take his time, next time he will have you begging for his fingers. Next time because god he couldn’t wait now.

The thickness of his finger stretched you out slightly as he thrusted it in and out of you, burning your hole slightly as he added another and another. Your moans and cries send sparks to his dick below you and you felt him harden more and more beneath you- he didn’t stop to fuck you though.

“Oh yeah darling look at you, fucking look at yourself.” His other hand stretched to your chin, tilting your face up and through tears you watched yourself be finger fucked by John. Tightening around his hand more and moaning louder as tears rolled down your cheek.

“Baby I’m going to-” You started but he shut you up shushing you quiet with a small kiss and rapid movements. His husky voice demanding you just to let yourself go.

“Come on, that’s it. Just let it all go, cum on my fingers. Good girl, oh my god you’re such a good girl.” As you came, cum squirting out of your abused hole and dripping down his sticky fingers. Your back arched and your legs started to shake and tremble against him and he just smiled. Pulling out of you and holding you for a moment, licking his fingers clean.

“Was that good darling? I loved it. So much better than usually fingering you.” You breathing calmed down slowly as you shakily nodded. John leant over giving you another loving kiss before chuckling.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down and then we’ll go again, yeah?”

#john price smut #price cod #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price #price x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #cod price #john price x reader #captain john price

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frannyzooey · 1 year

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Short Days, Long Nights: 1

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: none — I’ll change it to E when we get there (slow burn, forced proximity, age gap — no age actually mentioned but rather more implied, competence kink)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…..

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @mourningbirds1 for the incredible feedback, beta, and comments. As always, I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you also to @write-and-buried for her TLOU knowledge and constant support, and @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reading this one over and making me confront how much Joel Miller has rotted my brain 😉 Enjoy!

—

SPRING

The copse of trees surrounding you is dense, and from the overgrown path you’ve been following by groove alone, you almost miss it. A flash of muted, dingy blue in a sea of green.

“Hey,” you call to him. “What’s that?”

He turns, his features and body already taut with a practiced, ready tension and when he sees your face isn’t one of concern but rather curiosity, he relaxes. Walking over to you, he follows the line of your finger with his eyes.

At first, he sees nothing. Just a wall of clustered vegetation: sturdy trunks that hide behind branches heavily weighted with rain, the floor beneath them obscured by ferns that brush against your legs and growth that softens your footsteps. His eyes catch on something too angular for the setting and he frowns, focusing on it.

Barely visible in the distance and seen only through the filtered sunlight that catches the sharp edge: a moss covered roof. A structure, isolated like the two of you.

He glances over at you for a moment, reflexively reaching back for his rifle.

“Let’s take a look.”

Weapon out with his steps steady and slow, he approaches the cabin with a careful, defensive slink. As it slowly comes into view, you brace yourself for any type of movement. Second nature to now activate the constant thrum of self preservation inside you, you check for visible traps as you follow him, your eyes flitting between the building and the ground.

A specific sort of tension fills the air when something is close: you know that feeling now, have become so sensitive that it can wake you from dead sleep the second you feel it. Like a sixth sense forced to emerge due to evolution, you focus on it and feel none of that tension here: just the trilling sound of birds, the soft crunch of pine needles underfoot and the peaceful silence of total seclusion.

Joel catches your attention with the jerk of his head, motioning to stay close.

You approach the front of the cabin together. His hands white knuckle the gun, the butt tucked tight against the worn strap of his backpack where it curves around his shoulder and as his fingers flex in anticipation, you hold your breath.

There is a weighted beat as you wrap your hand around the knob and turn.

In the end, it’s all for nothing - the cabin you find, after roughly working the warped door open, is abandoned.

–

It’s like a time capsule in the middle of the woods.

A thick layer of dust covering everything, motes of it swirl lazily in the beam of Joel’s flashlight as you wander from room to room. His boots scrape against the floor with heavy footfalls, the two of you silently surveying the causally cozy and completely still disarray: a moth bitten handmade quilt thrown over the back of the couch, outdated magazines in a stack on the counter, cobwebbed toothbrushes by the bathroom sink. Bookshelves packed with faded spines, grime covered windows, dead plants in pretty pots lining sills.

Someone loved this cabin once.

Used to your partner through circumstance by now, you anticipate an order to scavenge for everything you can carry and then move on, so you’re surprised when he sets his pack down on the floor and lets himself fall back onto the couch. A cloud of dust bursts into the stagnant air, his hands coming up to wearily scrub his face. They rake through his damp, messy curls as he closes his eyes before laying his head back and letting out an exhausted sigh.

“This should do for the night,” he says. “Could stay until the rain lets up, at least. Be nice to sleep on something other than the ground for a change.”

You nod in agreement, rolling out the kink in your shoulder you woke up with. Your eyes drift over the exposed line of his tanned throat, lingering on the hollow just above his collar. You force yourself to look away. “Yea, the beds didn’t look too bad.”

There had been two of them, across the hall from each other and the idea of a mattress - no matter how old - had you yearning to climb into bed already. Nothing saying you can’t, you reason with yourself. Not when time is more of a concept than anything else these days but the gnawing hunger in your stomach immediately disagrees, knowing exactly how long it’s been since you’ve last eaten.

“I’m gonna go look for some food,” you tell him and he hums in acknowledgement, seemingly indifferent.

Not really expecting to find anything of substance, you feel a swoop of scarce felt joy when you discover a cache of canned goods in the pantry. A treasure trove.

“Hey Joel,” you call, wiping your thumb over a peeled, dried out label. “I think I found dinner.”

He doesn’t answer, most likely asleep given his ability to succumb whenever and wherever he can when he gets a moment and you take several, bringing them over to the counter. Brushing away the dust that sticks to the labels, you survey your choices: baked beans and peaches, two of each. Just what you would expect at a lake house.

Letting him rest and holding the beans in your hand and a spoon you find in another, you take bites straight from the can as you wander down the hallway of the cabin, looking at the pictures on the walls. Using the heel of your hand to wipe away the dust that covers the glass, smiling faces emerge from the fog. You study them one by one, slowly chewing.

They look like stock photos you used to see in stores: generically bland smiles, posed to perfection. An elderly couple with their children of various ages, a large family gathering photo, parents with children sitting between them. You try hard to picture those people here: sitting in the living room, sleeping in the bedrooms, playing outside. The concept seems too foreign to grasp, too far away to be real and you take another bite of food, pushing away the sudden unbidden reminder of similar photos you once had in your own home, now lost.

You hear the couch protest as Joel gets up, coming to pass you in the hallway. He stops for a moment behind you, looking to see what you’re staring at and when he sees what it is, he frowns. Letting a deep sigh escape him, he keeps moving down the narrow space and with his pack in his hand, disappears into a bedroom.

–

Wanting the safety of his nearness and given that it’s the only other bedroom, you set up across the hall when you’re done eating. Placing your own worn pack on the floor, you start to methodically strip the mattress, shaking out the bedding. Minimal creeping mold darkens the seamed edge of a mattress in otherwise good condition and you flip it, hoping for the best. Shaking out the pillow to make sure there is nothing hiding in it, you take the pillowcase with you, wanting to air it out on the deck now that the rain has stopped.

Wanting to do the same for him, you walk into the bedroom he’s claimed and even though he’s not in there, it already feels like an invasion of privacy to be standing in it. His pack slumped on the end of the bed a visual claim, you grab his pillow off the bed and start to tug off the case.

What does he look like, sleeping in a real bed? Does he bunch the pillow or tangle himself in the quilt? When he gets up, is there a rumpled form left behind, still warm with the heat of his body pressed into the sheets?

For all the time you’ve spent with him, the majority of Joel is a mystery to you. He gives away more than he knows, but that’s still not a lot. You knew of him back in the QZ: his broad frame a hard one to miss, his reputation even bigger and while your paths rarely crossed within the borders of those high walls, once you set out, it was hard to stay out of his orbit.

His handsomeness drew your eye initially, but it was his usefulness that made you stay in his shadow. His determination to fight for his own made you feel protected by proximity, even more so when he extended it to you.

Had to, once your group got picked off one by one.

You had been thankful, in a sick way, that he was the one that remained. The best one. The most ruthless one. A ruthlessness you admired, then revered, then thought about at night as you tried to drift off to sleep.

Without needing to sleep clothed to protect himself from the elements, does he still sleep in them, or will he be in less? If so, how much less?

Sharply snapping the pillowcase in the air, the sound brings you back to the present and you shake away the thoughts, leaving the room.

“Whatcha got there?” He’s sitting on the couch, a can of peaches in his hand and when you face him, you have to look away from the glistening juice on his lips.

“Oh, I was going to hang these outside, see if I can get some of the dust smell out.” Your nose crinkles and he smirks, taking another bite and shaking his head.

“Thought you’d be used to that by now.”

You shrug, taking a seat in a chair by the woodstove. Leaning forward to inspect it, your chair wobbles; the front leg rotted.

He nudges his chin in the direction of the stove when you open its door. “I thought about lighting it, but we better not. Don’t want the smoke showin’ people someone’s here.”

You nod, sitting back in the chair. “I can’t believe what a good find this is. There’s all sorts of stuff. I found some clothes in the closets, some more blankets too, if you need one.”

You watch him chew, his jaw flexing under the salt and pepper of his beard.

“There is more food where that came from, if you’re hungry. The pantry is pretty full.”

He acknowledges it with a nod, taking another bite and you glance towards the windows that run the length of the room. A miracle none of them are broken, thanks to the secured tarp that lined the outside.

“I think I’m gonna clean some of these and see if I can get a better view.”

“Cleanin’ the windows, doin’ the laundry. You lookin’ to move in?” His teasing tone is a dry one, and you smile, shrugging.

“Just so we can see what’s out there. In case someone comes.”

He looks at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he finishes the can, drinking the juice.

“Well don’t wear yourself out too much,” he says, standing with a soft grunt of pain. “We ain’t gonna be here that long. Not worth makin’ it all homey.”

He sets the can down on the counter, grabbing his bow and supplies off the surface. You watch him check his stock of arrows before reaching back to feel for the knife strapped to his belt.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find us something for dinner.” He gives you a look, his eyes quickly sliding down over your form and then back up. “Yell if you need me, okay? I’ll stay close.”

You nod, holding his eyes for a minute and when he goes, you use the pads of your fingers to wipe clean a clear circle on the window.

A creek lines the edge of the property, one that you didn’t even hear from the path with how thick the vegetation is and you watch him walk down along the edge of it for a moment, his head bowed. His hair is lighter in the sun, ruffling slightly in the wind and you keep watching until his form disappears behind the trees.

–

Searching the cabinets methodically for anything of use while he’s gone, you find them buried deep in a junk drawer, sealed inside a faded, dirty ziplock.

Seed packets. A lot of them.

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself, opening the plastic pouch. You handle each pack delicately, spreading them neatly and carefully out on the counter and marvel silently at the whole vegetable garden you’ve found in this tiny bag. The haul would be worth more than you can imagine back at the QZ, but the potential for it is even higher here, in this dim kitchen, with that patch of moist, fertile soil outside.

You pick them up one at a time, sorting them by recommended growth timelines and a thought takes root in your mind; the paper packets eventually gathered and put neatly back into the bag.

You let it stew the rest of the afternoon, into the evening. As the sky dims, then darkens, as he comes back with a skinned rabbit and cooks it, as you both sit in the living room after dinner, your dirty plates resting on the coffee table between you.

He’s sprawled on the couch, his arm behind his head with his thighs spread wide and the denim around his thighs is molded tight; his other hand resting limply against the inside of his thigh. When his eyes close, your eyes drop from his face to his hand, and then back up again.

“So I found something today,” you begin, and he answers with a slow drawl, content and full.

“Oh yea? Anything good?”

“Really good. Like, something really, really good.”

He opens his eyes then, looking over at you with a tilt of his head.

“Well? You gonna tell me what it is?”

You draw one of the packets from your pocket, holding it in your hand and he sits up immediately, leaning forward on his elbows to reach for it.

“Careful,” you warn, scared some will leak out of the thin, dried out paper.

“You found these here?”

“Yea, in a drawer. In the kitchen.”

You can tell by the way he is looking at them that he knows their value. His hands hold them more tenderly than you thought his hands capable of, and he flips the packet over, reading the front.

“I would kill for a fresh squash right now,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything, as he studies the front.

“Well…” you start, suddenly unsure of your idea when he brings his eyes back up to your face. It’s intimidating when he looks directly at you normally, but you feel it tenfold now. He’s always been the one to call the shots, his experience in this world outweighing yours and while you’re nervous to throw yours out there, thinking of the alternatives nudges you forward.

“I was sort of thinking this afternoon. About this place, and about these seeds.” You pause, looking away for a moment and then back at him. “About us, maybe staying here.”

He immediately frowns, scoffing to discourage the idea. “You can’t be serious. Stay here?”

Though you expected it, his immediate dismissive tone flares annoyance in you.

“Where else is there to go, Joel?” you ask, your voice gaining confidence. “Be serious. Every settlement has been a nightmare, every place we’ve tried —“

He shakes his head, cutting your argument off. “I said we could stay for a night, not stay forever goddamnit. We’re like sitting ducks out here, just waitin’ to get killed. In the middle of fuckin’ no where —“

“Exactly!” you say louder, before bringing your voice down. “Exactly. We didn’t even see this place from the road. Not even from the path off the road. Who is going to find us here? No one knows about this place, or else it would have been looted ages ago. The tarps hid it, the trees block it, the –”

“And then what, huh? The second we light that wood stove, it’s gonna give us away. Even so, what then when someone wandering down that path sees the same thing we saw, and they decide to come take a look for themselves? They are gonna see everything we have – everything you’re suggesting we start – and they are gonna kill us for it.”

He pauses, the next statement forcing you to look at the ground. “Just like we would have done if we found someone else here. Just like we do.”

You say nothing, letting the words hang in the air.

“Just —“ you pause, looking down at your hands. Flashes of the last few months play back in your mind: the hangings, the strict enforcement of rules for all made to benefit the few, the bleak apartment you live in. This mission, all the things you’ve seen along the way, all the fear and terror you’ve felt and how the only person who has ever made you feel safe since the Outbreak began is sitting right here in this room.

If ever this could work, it would only work with him.

You bring your eyes back to him, pleading. “Aren’t you tired of it? So restless, always fighting against everything. For everything you have. Aren’t you sick of it, Joel?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine.” His tone is clipped, but you can tell he’s thinking. He glances at his watch, the broken face staring back at him. It’s been broken for as long as you’ve known him, but he’s always treated it as carefully as his weapons, his supplies. You can see him illuminated by the moon profile in your mind, his fingers skating around the face as he kept watch, or brushing it with his thumb to delicately keep the dirt off. Seeing your opening, you take it.

“I’m not saying forever,” you press. “Hell, I’m not even saying a month. But let’s just stop for a second. Let’s… just stop. Nothing says we have to go back there. We could be dead, for all they know.”

He brings his attention back to you and placing his hands in his pockets, he straightens his spine. “Probably will be, sooner or later, if we stay here.” He looks you directly in the eye, holding your gaze. “It’s not just the supplies they’ll take. They’ll want way more than that.”

You raise your chin, ignoring the tightening of fear in your chest. He hasn’t let that happen yet, and even if it's foolish to believe, you know he won’t let it happen. When he sees you’re not going to answer, he sighs.

The lantern is bright between you, illuminating the room in a soft glow and his deep brown eyes study you. His expression is stern, like he wants to say no…but he doesn’t.

“It’s a dumb idea.” His statement is said with resignation, but with the authority of the last word and deciding not to push it any further tonight, you stand.

“Well, good thing it was just an idea.” Glancing over at the seed packet, you chew your bottom lip while he watches your face with a frown and your voice gets softer, quieter.

“I’m gonna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

—

He isn’t there when you wake up, and finding his bow gone, you know he’s out hunting again.

You wander over to the coffee table to pick up the packet of seeds you left there last night when you see a book facedown next to it. Like he was reading something he found on the shelves after you went to bed, and left it there.

Picking it up and turning it over in your hands, a smile unfurls at the edge of your mouth and you sit down on the couch, opening it to the first page:

The Basics of Gardening

#joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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simping-overload · 27 days

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ᴀ ᴛɪᴇꜰʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴀɪʟ - ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴꜱ

a/n: halsin with baby fever <3 make this man a daddy

tags: halsin, he wants kids so bad. gn reader, zevlor cameo, just fluff.

『read on ao3』

synopsis: Halsin watches as you interact with the children of the Grove.

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

The festival was bustling, children ran around and played whilst the adults drank the evening away. Bards sing their songs by the fire, occasionally starting sing-alongs.

Halsin sat separately, in a smaller, quieter corner, leaning against a wall as he watched over the party, making sure things won’t get too rowdy.

His gaze wonders over the crowd, looking for a familiar face before he lands on you. Sitting down on the ground and making flower crowns with the children. A child places one on top of your head, mindful of the horns.

The children braid and weave flowers along your tail and horns. Maybe at the right angle, you’d look like a statue wrapped in overgrown vines and plants.

Seeing you interact with the children stirs an all too familiar feeling in his chest, his desire for children of his own. Whether adopted or somehow biological, he wants ones of his own.

To see and hear the pitter patter of their tiny feet thumping against the wooden floor of your cozy home. Teaching them how to cook, clean, and maybe, if they wished, he can teach them the ways of the druids.

He’s already accustomed to the cries and screaming of children. Over the long years he has been alive, it’s safe to say he already knows how to handle it, especially when he took over as Arch druid of the Grove.

As much as he wants children, he doesn’t know if you wanted them. You never gave any indication if you did or didn’t.

Halsin tears his eyes away from you when he feels a nudge on his side. He turns his head, locking eyes with the person. It was Zevlor, a good friend of his.

“Something on your mind, Halsin?” The tiefling leader asks.

“Its—it’s not something to get into now, but how are you, friend?” Halsin tries to deflect the conversation away from him.

Zevlor raises a brow. “I’m well. The party is a bit more crowded than expected. Aside from that, don’t you dare try to change the topic. You’ve spent enough time of your life hiding your issues and feelings. Speak, my friend. I’m all ears.” Zevlor takes a sip of his wine.

“Do you think Tav and I would be good parents?” He suddenly blurts out, shoulders tensing at what he just said.

Zevlor grins. “I think you’d be one of the best parents in Faerûn.”

Halsin smiles at this, looking away from his friend and back at you.

“Though I would recommend waiting. Maybe a few years after the fame from your adventures, die down, and when you finally settle down. Did you ask them yet?”

Halsin chuckles nervously, “Well. No. I was waiting for a good time, but that moment never came.”

Zevlor huffed at this, smacking the druid’s calf with his tail. “Go ask.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Gods know you probably wouldn’t ask for another year! And look, they’re already on their way.. I’ll leave you to it.” Zevlor pats Halsin on the shoulder before slipping off.

Halsin watches as you approach, and by the Oak father, you look divine. The bear in him just wanted to ravish you more than and there. He pushes the feeling away as he pulls you into his warm embrace.

You wrap your arms around him, curling into him as you soak in his comforting warmth. Pulling back slightly, you look at your lover, adoration laced in your expression.

“Hi love.”

“Hello, my heart. I see you had quite the time for the children.” He brings a hand to the flower crown that lies on your head.

You chuckle, nodding, “Yeah, it got a little out of control.” You gesture to your tail. It had all kinds of flowers laced together covering it.

With a fond smile, he gently caresses your cheek with his hand. Pulling you forward, and presses a loving kiss to your lips. He faintly tastes like honeycomb and tobacco.

You shut your eyes, falling into the kiss. Getting lost in the sensation of his lips on yours.

He reluctantly pulls away when the need for air becomes too strong. He settles to rest his foreheads against yours, looking into your eyes with a longing your’re oh-so familiar with. You can see his eyes flicker with uncertainty. It seems he’s having an internal conflict with himself.

“What’s on your mind, Halsin?” You ask, cupping his face in your palms so he can’t turn away.

He sucks in a breath before letting the words flow from his lips. “I have something to ask of you.”

#bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate x reader #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 halsin #bg3 halsin x reader #halsin silverbough x reader #halsin x tav #bg3 halsin x tav #halsin x reader

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maximotts · 1 year

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𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚠𝚘; 𝙰 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝

a/n: Wanda, you sweet baby bean, I'm sorry people suck. That's all I've gotta say about this chapter uhm... please don't yell at me too much, I promise it's all going to be So Fine

✎— priest's daughter!Wanda x college student!reader

✎— confessions AU; a surprise over lunch leads you to spend a lot more time with Wanda. You like her and she does as well, but not everyone is happy about your new friend

✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; I've said before since turning this into a series we're going to have a slower, more subtle corruption kink so: mentions of handsiness/groping, Wanda being a shy yearning gay, R being a terrible student, bullying, jealousy, Wanda shedding a tear because my friends seem to think I need to make that a warning

✎— words: 5.5k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

Even with your lunch offer, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to let you do all the work; after picking up sandwiches from her favorite deli, she directed you down the block to her -and apparently, your- apartment building. When realization set in, the two of you had a laugh until you suggested going to your unit.

“You’re serious?”

“What, afraid I’m luring you into my apartment to have my way with you?” Wanda didn’t respond to that, just shook her head as you quickly discovered she did whenever she was talking herself out of a thought. Oh what you’d give to see what was running through that imagination. “Such a good girl, not trusting strangers, but I don’t bite, I promise. We can go to yours instead?”

She had to have told you her apartment number along the way because you’d gotten there with ease, guiding her down the hall with a hand on her back, but two simple words made her forget the whole walk. Wanda was a good kid, an amazing student, she’d heard words of encouragement so many times over the years— none of it affected her how it had earlier.

If you noticed her nerves, you were gracious enough not to point them out even as she carelessly dropped her bag to the floor and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door tight. Wanda calmed herself with a splash of water and a quick talking to, reminding to keep it together. This wasn’t a date, it wasn’t anything, it was lunch. All this meant was you were a decent enough human not to stoop to the level of an overgrown schoolyard bully and feeling bad doesn’t make them a friend. Certainly didn’t mean she had a chance with you.

That rationale didn’t stop her from talking out her nerves in the form of oversharing.

From that, you learned a lot about Wanda. She’s a twin, the younger one as her brother Pietro so often loved to remind her. They were close, but when it came time to choose colleges, he decided on another university in the next state over— mostly because of a very generous track scholarship he was offered. She nearly went with him, wanting to take advantage of their massive literature program, but their father said it’d break his heart if both of them left and Wanda, darling daughter that she is, caved and attended a more local school.

Part of her compromise was being allowed her apartment. Leaving home to live off-campus by herself was an instant no, but for once, Wanda pushed. It was around the same cost of any room and board fees and she had the freedom she insisted on having. Partially to live away from home, but mostly because the possibility of rooming with one of her childhood enemies was high and she’d rather go without college than deal with that stress.

“I raised such a fuss that night, Pietro thought I’d lost my mind. It’s worth it, I think. I like it here.” Here in what turned out to be your shared building, blaming different schedules on why you’d never run into the other. In the end, her dad could rarely hold firm against Wanda’s puppy dog eyes and constant pleas and she won the small space now filled with various plants and cozy furnishings.

“Well, I for one, am very happy to find out the cute girl I’ve been wanting to talk to only lives a few floors away.” You said it so casually, like it was easy as chewing your ham and cheese sandwich to call her cute. It wasn’t helping that she’s just being nice mantra Wanda had going in her head to keep her calm.

While you ate, Wanda searched for any other reason you’d be so flirtatious and came up empty. Still, she couldn’t discount her inexperience for how she perceived your wanting to have lunch, your compliments, even the comment about asking her to dinner could’ve just been a passing joke she hung on to too seriously. She’d never been allowed to date, not that it mattered with how she got treated like the plague, and she didn’t know the first thing about well, anything. Somehow Pietro fared much better in that sense, sneaking out and rebelling any chance he could.

Some nights when she couldn’t sleep, Wanda would catch him stumbling out of the woods that bordered their backyard and tired as she was, helped him climb through the window, questioning him all the while about his disheveled clothes and the glittery lip gloss smeared along his neck. “Stop being dad’s golden child and maybe you’ll find out one day.” Wanda never was bold enough to try nor did she like the options to try with. None of her classmates were interesting enough to be worth getting in trouble for.

The few times she did go out, the situation got the better of her and she had more anxiety than rowdiness. Wanda tried, really she did, there was just so much to remember: how to drink, who to drink with, the perfect things to say and no matter what, she always came up short. Then came that dreadful night after junior prom; her fatal mistake— distressed to the point of tears, Wanda called her father to pick her up, not thinking how not parent-approved the activities swirling around were. His appearance and the subsequent adult discourse at church the next morning solidified her status as Westview’s pious snitch. Ultimately, as much as she hated talking about it, even after Pietro took her side and offered to take matters into his own hands, she didn’t regret it for one day.

Opportunities to act out quickly dropped to zero after that incident. College was supposed to be better, new people and new surroundings, maybe a whole new her if she could figure out how to upgrade, but the proximity to her hometown made the past three years an extended high school. And then, there you were, shiny and brand new, straight out of her prayers— but they got to you first.

Wanda resigned herself to staring at you in class, watching you text under the table with Carol Danvers who’d given you her number almost as soon as you’d first sat in your chair. If you’d been in the front of the class, she’d have slipped you her number instead; that’s what she told herself at least. Everyone else was too fast and forward, and Wanda didn’t stand a chance when everyone’s classes overlapped as much as they did. Each time Wanda caught you looking back at her, she turned away so fast she missed your smile or the silent waves you tried sending her way, too afraid to see if you’d regard her with the same disdain your new acquaintances offered.

There weren’t a lot of people in class today; the middle of the semester meant burn out was creeping in, students skipped more now, but you were there in your usual spot, empty seats all around. If you weren’t always cutting your arrival so short, Wanda could’ve moved next to you, but class began and, not wanting to disrupt, she stayed put. Those next ninety minutes were the most distracted she’d been her entire college career, solidifying exactly how she’d introduce herself, act cool and collected while she gave you her handwritten phone number, written and rejected countless times over so Wanda could draw the little heart at the end just right. She’d been so close too, just feet away from your desk; Brock always had a way of ruining even her best laid plans.

“Earth to Wanda, where’d you go?”

“Huh?” The poor girl had been staring much too intently at her crumpled sandwich wrapper for the last few minutes, having decided she wasn’t listening when she didn’t react after your suggestion to run away and buy an RV. Wanda was adorable when she zoned off, playing with her rings absentmindedly and spinning them around her fingers, but you did wonder where she flew off to. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Clearly…” Gathering any lingering trash gave Wanda a task away from your watchful gaze, wiping off the table with another mumbled apology before skipping off to the kitchen. She took a deep breath, steadying herself against what to do now that she’d gotten this far. Her plan only went as far as exchanging phone numbers, maybe putting the digits in your phone if she was brave enough, but you’d skipped that stage and gotten straight to the apartment hangouts and she was… lost.

Luckily for Wanda, you had no problem taking charge. The moment she returned to the living room, you took hold of her arm and pulled her down until she was finally sitting right next to you instead of her far off spot. All of lunch she’d been far away and selfishly, you missed how close you’d been when you walked earlier. Now with Wanda’s thigh brushing against yours, you could see each one of her little reactions intimately. “What’s going on in that head?”

“I was thinking about earlier and got carried away, nothing important.” Wanda shook her head again, hoping to settle at least a fraction of the blush that’d overtaken her face, but when she tried to pull her hand away from yours, you held tight. As much as she loved the feeling of your warm, steady hand wrapped around her cold and shaky one, Wanda feared growing too used to it too fast and having to fight not seeking out your touch from then on.

“If it’s got you this frazzled, it’s gotta be some kind of important. You can tell me, I promise.” You almost wondered aloud who you’d tell, but she didn’t need to be reminded of who you talked to. Not that you’d ever say anything, no, mostly you just wanted to see Wanda all sweet and flustered, committing the sight to memory on the off chance she kept her distance after today.

She stared hard, judging your sincerity before deciding whether or not she’d lie or divulge the truth. Unpracticed as she was with this, Wanda wasn’t an idiot; this afternoon was nice, but she couldn’t blurt out her crush only a few hours after your first official meeting. She could tell half-truths, thoughts buzzing in her brain that ranked lower on the exposure scale to hopefully not scare you away. “Well.. you know how I tried talking to you in class?”

You nodded, politely letting her continue, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying painfully hard not to think about your thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. It was a small gesture, obviously, but it meant everything to Wanda who’d never been on the receiving end of such gentle reassurance. “I’d been waiting to do that since the first week of class.”

So you weren’t imagining her sneaking glances at each class; good to know you could still sense when someone was into you. Most girls tended to talk way before Wanda did and you started wondering if your attraction to her made her small acknowledgments into something a lot bigger than it actually was. “Why didn’t you?”

“Someone else always got there first.” The truth was embarrassing. As isolated as Wanda had been, she didn’t actively dislike most of her peers. It was that one particular group you hung out with that seemed to go out of their way to not only make Wanda’s life hell, but also warn anyone they possibly could away from ever giving her a chance. She grew up being taught hateful behavior only bred more hate, that it wasn’t polite or productive, but if there was anyone she hated, it was them.

When she saw you with Brock and Carol and the rest of their tiring friend group, she nearly cursed aloud, strangely mad that of all the transfers, they had to get you too— it wasn’t fair. In her defense, Wanda gave ignoring you a good, honest try, but every time she saw you wander through the door, she wanted to be the one who waved you over, who sat with you and leaned in close or put a flirtatious little kiss on your cheek. “You seemed..busy.”

Finally, once the jealousy threatened to consume her alive, she did change course, ignoring you wasn’t working so why not try talking? Worst case scenario, you tell her to shoo or get lost; painful, but nothing she hadn’t heard before. When she heard Brock talking about her, the brunette swore she felt her heart drop into her stomach, any hope she had of possibly getting close to you just… dashed in an instant. She had to pack her stuff quickly, not because she was afraid, but because she felt so embarrassed she knew she’d cry if she heard another word of that conversation.

“I’m not stupid, I know they talk about me. They don’t really try to hide how they feel.” Wanda’s laugh held a bitter edge, laced with the defeat of someone who knew what to expect when trying to make new friends. “I just- I didn’t want to interfere or get you involved with any of their weird… whatever and.. I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it’d go over well to talk to you when you’re already friends with them.”

At first you laughed, disbelieving Wanda could ever think you were off limits just because you’d spent a month or so interacting with people who, admittedly, weren’t the greatest, but one look at Wanda’s troubled face showed she was all too serious. “I can talk to more than one person, you know!”

You weren’t the type to blindly follow everything someone said, preferring to make your own judgements, and after a few hours with Wanda you could tell that, just as expected, she truly wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be. Shy and reserved, sure, but you couldn’t count those as bad qualities. Not when she was just as gentle, funny, and kind as you’d imagined she’d be.

“It’s always more than just one person talking or inviting you somewhere or shoving their phone in your face asking you to text them…” The last part was mumbled, but you caught it all the same. Her earlier confirmed watching combined with that last comment had the last piece sliding into place so perfectly in your head, you’re sure you heard a snap.

Wanda didn’t just want to say hi, she wanted what she saw; flirtatious texts, low-spoken promises of naughty after class activities— not that Wanda knew that’s what she was asking for. Sweet thing… you’d show her how it all worked.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You beckoned her closer with a finger and she leant in with innocent curiosity, shivering as you came to whisper in her ear. “I’d rather text you so I’d like your number, if you don’t mind.”

It was the truth; sure you messed around with one of two girls since being here, but none of them stopped you wanting the darling girl in front of you. The longer you sat with her, the more you wanted to know and not just to sleep with her. Not that Wanda would probably let you right away; she didn’t have to say it for you to know she was virginal as a little lamb.

Your lips brushed against her cheek, the barest hint of a kiss, but it stunned Wanda all the same. She pulled back, searching for her phone much more intently than needed to play off how affected she really was. “Does that mean you want to have lunch again?”

“I want to do a lot more than just have lunch with you but..” Eventually you gave Wanda your own phone to give the poor girl something to do where she was not so subtly scrambling. When she handed you hers, you punched your number in and as she took it back, you watched her sign your name off with a set of hearts. How precious. “Yes, if you want to?”

Wanda agreed perhaps a little too eagerly, but she couldn’t stop herself planning your next lunch date complete with food she made herself. She really hoped you liked homemade things. “Absolutely!”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

And so it went like that for the following weeks, walking around campus with Wanda and having lunch together when you were both free, going to her apartment multiple times a week to collaborate on school things or just to talk to her. Whatever you were doing, Wanda was a pleasure to be around and she never complained when you copied her answers on homework or came over just to lay on her couch and watch movies.

For Wanda’s part, she might as well have been in heaven; having someone to spend time with regularly was nicer than she remembered. Of course, growing up, she had Pietro, but this was different. You made her laugh just as much as he did, but you didn’t torment her nearly as much, and the big difference, obviously, was that she most certainly did not want to kiss her brother.

When she showed up to your apartment door with a box of heart-shaped sandwiches, she felt silly, but the moment your face lit up when you laid eyes on them… she wanted to drop the food and kiss you until you fell to the floor.

But she’d always wanted her first kiss to be special, memorable and at least pleasant; it couldn’t be over a stupid sandwich in a doorway. So Wanda waited until.. well, until she felt the time was right to politely ask.

You made her nervous, not in the frightened way others had, but with a giddy, butterflies in her stomach feeling that left Wanda always wanting more. If you’d asked Wanda a few months ago, she’d say her ideal romance was to be blissfully swept off her feet like she’d seen in movies, brought flowers, chocolates, and lovingly courted until she finally says yes— meeting you through all of that out her balcony window. For the first time in her life, Wanda wanted what she’d seen her peers get ever since hormones descended over her sixth grade class. She craved casually possessive hugs and touches, that anticipated first kiss… special private time she’d stumbled upon during late-night internet browsing.

The first one thankfully Wanda didn’t have to wait for.

Startling as it was the next day when you not only walked with Wanda to class, but traded your spot in the back of the class to coax her to sit off to the side, she didn’t complain. How could she when you insisted sitting next to her made class more bearable; whether it was true or not, Wanda couldn’t know, but she didn’t care, the compliment made her blush every time.

A chair next to the top student should’ve meant you paid more attention, but it was the opposite. Before you’d watched Wanda from afar, now with her close, you couldn’t help but stare longer, much more intrigued with how she bit her tongue whenever she concentrated than anything your professors taught.

Even more since you’d begun vying for her attention during class, Wanda liked to ask questions of them after lectures were done, getting clarification for anything she couldn’t pick up in the discussion. Jokingly, you called her a nerd, but you took her notes to study from all the same so you figured the least you could do was hang back and wait for her— the perfect opportunity for Carol to strike up a conversation.

“She wheeled you right on in, didn’t she?” The blonde also went to school with Wanda and while she wasn’t ever directly antagonistic towards your new friend, she’d never made an effort to include her either. To you Carol was nice enough; if you were being honest, you hadn’t given it much thought whenever you fell into bed with her.

Hanging out with Wanda meant abandoning your typical seat next to Carol in your Wednesday morning class and while you missed her sharp banter and the silly drawings she snuck in the corners of your notebooks, nothing beat sliding your arm around Wanda and toying with her skirt under the desk. She didn’t fully know what you were up to, grew squirmy as she felt the room’s chill on her thighs, but even when you pinched at her hips, Wanda didn’t want to cause a class disruption by protesting.

Not that you and Carol hadn’t done the same, but Wanda’s reactions were so pure and sweet, just like her. Carol was fun, but Wanda was something else entirely and you actually wanted to get to know her. The brunette was easy to be around in a way you couldn’t remember experiencing and where Wanda didn’t go out of her way to mention your first friend group, you didn’t miss the judgemental looks Carol shot Wanda’s way whether the brunette’s back was turned or not. “It’s easy when you’re not an asshole. Try it sometime.”

She brushed off your comment, sliding further in your line of sight until she blocked your view of Wanda at the podium. What you two shared might’ve not been serious, but losing your situationship to someone like Wanda was an ego hit Carol refused to believe was actually real. “I’m having a party on Saturday. You’re coming.”

“Guess I’ll cancel my plans…” The singular party of Carol’s you’d been to was a riot. Admittedly, you didn’t remember much besides large hits from shared pre-rolls and waking up in her bed the next morning with a pleasurable ache between your legs, but even after stumbling back to your apartment with a throbbing headache, you were more than excited at the prospect of going to another. Coincidentally, that particularly reckless night was days before you first talked to Wanda and now, only a few weeks later, you hesitated.

“Is anyone invited?” You searched over Carol’s shoulder to find Wanda still chatting away, dutifully scribbling down something your professor was referring to. You couldn’t imagine she’d be upset if you went at all; Wanda might even appreciate a Saturday night to herself after you’d wormed your way into her plans week after week. It was you who didn’t want to go to the party without her.

Both of you knew the singular ‘anyone’ you were referring to, and Carol’s expression soured. “I said I’m having a party, not bible study.”

Sam walked over then, the large guy you’d met at orientation having also made fast friends with the people who threw the best after hours get-togethers. He was nice enough, louder than his roommate Steve, but always a fun time. “Come on, Danvers, she can’t be that bad. Besides, isn’t her dad like, an hour away now?”

Word really did travel fast on this campus. Even new kids retained personal facts about the girl who didn’t know the first thing about them, but Sam was another one who hadn’t bought into the group verdict on Wanda and for that, you were grateful. If you did bring Wanda along, you thankfully wouldn’t be the only one looking out for her. Not that you planned on letting her out of your sight. “I doubt she’d call the police.”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d want to chance.” She wouldn’t get grounded like she had back in high school, but violating the lease on the house she and her friends rented wasn’t in the cards either. Catching sight of Wanda making her way back over to where the three of you gathered, she nudged your shoulder and you felt a heavy lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to be caught talking about her, much less make her believe you were plotting anything malicious.

Carol was well aware of your growing soft spot in the past few weeks, taking note how you instantly shifted focus away from Wanda whenever someone dared bring her up in your presence; it’d almost be sweet if she didn’t hate her. And so, instead of cutting the chat short, Carol waited until she was sure Wanda was within earshot, “If she ruins anything, it’s on you.”

Wanda, reticent as she was, strolled right up to you with a smile, but your stunned face made her brow furrow. She knew she’d been the topic of conversation, both having caught the tail end of Carol’s conditions and gauging the apprehension you regarded her with.

“Look who it is, missionary of the hour…” Carol mumbled, Sam only getting a fraction of his snicker out before you shut him up with a warning glare.

With a nervous breath, you tried playing it off, but the blonde’s icy temperament was impossible to mask, “We were just talking about this thing Carol’s got going on Saturday, but it’s a party so…”

Wanda nodded, ignoring the other woman completely, which only made her stew further. Honestly whatever was said wouldn’t be anything new; she did have a terrible reputation for disrupting parties and she was far past expecting to be wanted there. The hesitation didn’t bother her, but Carol did; if she could come out on top just once, she’d die happy.

So this time, instead of being forced to watch Carol flirt with you and exchange texts in class, Wanda was the one who’d spent hours getting to know you and the last lecture blushing through your teasing, pushing you away when you got too handsy, giggling into her hands when you told her something especially funny; she knew, on some undescribed level, you liked her better.

Maybe that’s where the confidence to link her arm with yours and press a chaste kiss into your temple stemmed from, “Well, I love parties! We have to go!”

If your eyes weren’t already wide enough to fall out of your head, they certainly were now. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, darting between the two of you while Sam, loud as ever, laughed at the clear and present tension between the two women on either side of you. “Last thing: Don’t let her wear anything like…” Carol gestured to Wanda, dressed in a light floral dress and one of her favorite cozy sweaters, “that. I’m not having a church social.”

Wanda’s grip loosened at the insult, brief confidence struck down as fast as it’d come, but you didn’t let her fall away completely, winding your arms around her midsection. “I told her she should wear this sweater today. But don’t worry, she’ll look even cuter than she normally does.” Scooting the stunned girl closer until she was snug between your legs, you kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze of reassurance.

When Wanda didn’t move a singular muscle, shoulders still slumped, you wished there was a hug tight enough to say I’m sorry I let them hurt you again. “See you Saturday!”

You never did thrive amidst conflict, preferring to sit back and let any drama go by far away from you, but it wasn’t fair staying silent when Wanda could barely stand up for herself. Whether it was your defense of Wanda’s outfit choice or your protective hold you kept, your defense was enough to get Carol to roll her eyes and back off for now, “Fine whatever, I’ll text you the details later.”

Sam left you with a pat on the back, shaking his head at the tension he happened to stumble in on and couldn’t wait to tell Steve and Bucky, “Way to stand up for your girl, kiddo, well done.”

“Don’t call me kiddo! You’re maybe six months older than me, and she’s not my— fuck, whatever.” He was jogging out the door before you could correct him, but you dropped your arms anyway and Wanda tried to ignore the loss she felt. She longed to admit she needed at minimum five more minutes of that hug to truly keep her tears at bay, but she couldn’t ask.

It was bad enough you had to lie about picking her sweater; Wanda threw it on not only because it kept her warm in the often chilly lecture halls, but Pietro bought it for her years ago for her birthday and the familiar fabric kept her calm. She wore the sweater and her current dress often enough for the outfit to be considered a wardrobe staple, Carol saw it constantly; there was no way she didn’t know how pointed her insult was. “Sorry about that…”

Wanda half expected you to run after Carol, trying to smooth things over with her for the sake of preserving whatever you two had that Wanda threatened. Instead she found her hand loosely caught in yours, thumb rubbing over it just as you had the first day she shared her anxieties, and when dim green eyes traveled from your touch to your face, she saw concern so genuine Wanda wanted to fall back into your arms and sob. Not only for herself, but for you and how much of a burden she feared she was already becoming. Her family always dubbed her the crybaby and she couldn’t deny it; of the three of them, Wanda was the first to let her eyes go watery. The only thing worse than dealing with what you’d just witnessed would be having to console the crying mess of your new friend.

But you wouldn’t have minded, not one bit. “Don’t apologize when you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s not fair,” You spotted her frown and longed to ask her what you could do to help, but as soon as you opened your mouth, Wanda pulled away.

She was quick to replace her sad expression with another smile, pushing your forgotten books into your now empty hands. If you didn’t watch her so much, the sudden change wouldn’t mean anything, but the smile she was trying so hard to pass off didn’t reach her eyes— it wasn’t real. “You’re going to be late for class again, get moving.”

“Well yeah, but…” Clearly, Wanda was deflecting again, you’d be a fool to miss the nervous way she hugged herself tight as if she could hide the knee length dress she’d walked out of her apartment in so happily just hours ago. Choosing the sweater wasn’t a lie, but what you thought about her look wasn’t; Wanda dressed in a comfortable yet sweet style you found wholly endearing. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean for all that to happen, I only wanted to ask if I could bring you along.”

The brunette scoffed loudly and in the interest of not making the situation any worse, you ignored how her voice cracked, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Right okay, I just- I’ll see you later then? If you’re up for it?” If Wanda didn’t want to talk about it now, maybe this afternoon she’d be up to discuss and unfortunately, she was right. You only had about ten minutes now to rush across the courtyard to your next lecture; no time to argue with her. It was too early in the semester to routinely skip all of your classes.

Wanda joined you to the door, hands tight around her backpack strap. The walk was short, too short; you hated leaving her to fend for herself when she was obviously still upset. You’d make it up to her later, maybe ask her favorite movie and bring over pizza to watch it with her. For now, resolved to be on time, you left her with a hurried wave and a clumsy sprint that admittedly did make her chuckle just a little, “You know where to find me!”

With you gone, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and Wanda wiped them away with the knit sleeve of the sweater she couldn’t stand wearing right now. It was too cold out to only have her shoulders exposed, but she tore it off anyways, bundling it as small as she could in her clammy palms.

She walked briskly, destination clear, but for once, she wasn’t going home. Any other time, Wanda would’ve been polite enough to text ahead and assure she was welcome, but the harder it got to hold back a full cry, the less she worried about etiquette. If anyone could tell her what to do, how to proceed, anything… it was them.

From the class schedules they’d shared with her at the beginning of the year, they should be in; Wanda hoped their ‘you’re welcome whenever you want some company, no questions asked’ sentiment held true just this once.

The route home seemed endless, late summer breezes stinging her blotched cheeks; she looked a mess and she knew it, her frazzled appearance driving her to practically run down her apartment floor hall. Wanda knocked on the door just a few doors down from her own, the one she hated to bother but loved being in all the same, “I know it’s the middle of the day, but I really need your help, please?”

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alaskaartz · 6 months

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Silk Song RAMBLE.

I have a really hard time containing my excitement so

SPOILERS FOR SILKSONG! do not read anymore of this if you want to go into silksong spoiler free!

OK BUT LIKE- The updated HK wiki was a thing today and I went and looked at the silksong part of it. and OH MY GOD- I know most of these things already but everything about silksong makes me just so excited- silksong has a lot of things that I love and adore already and team cherry really just picked up everything I love and put it into one game, which makes me literally wanna jump around my room cuz I'm so happy

Ok rambling about things now

Up first moss grotto:

THIS PLACE MAKES ME SO HAPPY. I love moss, and I love lily pads. I love EVERYTHING about this place! I love the atmosphere of it and the feeling it gives off. It feels very comforting in an odd way, with all the moss and plants mixed with what I assume to be bones makes a really comforting place. The enemies shown here are also really really cute, I just wanna hug them, they look like they'd be soft. Something about moss grotto makes it seem like the perfect place to come sit and stay if you needed some alone time, I know that sounds weird but it's the best way I can describe it- Random but in the nintendo treehouse live from forever ago you could see the shell shards ROLL on the ground! and when Hornet walks on the moss it actually looks like she's walking on it! I bring this up because of how cool but more, real feeling? It makes everything feel. The fact that the currency and the shell shards roll on the ground gives it more gravity and just- overall a very cool feel to what it would be like to, idk, hold it? Geo in Hollow Knight kinda bounces around so it's like, not as realistic idk man- Another thing is Hornet, she seems to have more gravity to her, she can't jump as high or walk/run as fast as the knight did making her almost feel, heavier. She seems like she's much heavier than Ghost was

Next up, Deep docks: (the second one is my PC's wallpaper lol)

Deep docks feels very, hot, for obvious reason. Something about deep docks aesthetic is just SO COOL. I'm writing this part from memory of the treehouse live so if I'm wrong about stuff, sorry I love the rocks and bones in Deep docks, actually I love the amount of bones in most of the screenshots and trailer things I've seen- so cool, but also in deep docks it's really cool to see the bones, rocks, magma, and machinery all mixed together I really love Lace's arena, if you look in the background you can see some moss vines (?) hanging down so that makes me think It's really close to moss grotto, but it also gives her arena a more of an overgrown feel, which is really nice ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT LACE'S CRAZY AIR ATTACK?? That attack is probably my favorite out of all her moves, the way she comes back down to the ground and shakes the whole place is SO COOL- she's definitely gonna be a hard boss for me to beat but DAMN she's gonna be a fun boss Also the fact that Hornet and Lace are just fighting above flowing magma like it's nothing is badass The Citadel:

HOLY SHIT?? THERE'S SO MUCH I CAN TALK ABOUT WITH THIS ONE SCREENSHOT. The way the floor is makes the room feel very omen and very big. The room also feels old, and dusty- What seems to be torn cloths and curtains around the place makes it seem like that place has been there for a very long time. I assume and guess the Citadel is doing to play a very big and important role in the story of this game, and in the lore of Pharloom. Idk who this warrior is but he seems cool, two swords and everything. There isn't much footage of the Citadel at all which makes me a little upset because this place seems just so, so grand, so big, so IMPORTANT. I also don't know why but the colors make it feel royal. This- Place:

I'd live here, saying that right now, I'd live here. I'd find a cozy little bell to live in and stay there forever. I know the guy to the right of Hornet is singing so maybe this is a safe space in Pharloom? I would think it to be like how dirtmouth is, shops but also a calm place to be after fighting for your life for the millionth time. It's really cool how bells have been turned into homes, It's a really cool touch to this place and it makes it feel really cozy. I think the bell homes would be hanging from the ceiling, cavern roof, whatever you wanna call it- And the bug either fly or climb ladders to get into the bell houses! This place just radiates safe, and homey- once again, I will find a bell and make it my home.

This:

Not much to say about it because I know so little about it, but the fact that Hornet is fighting what I assume is I giant robot bug? omg, Also it looks like it's rusting so is it not affected by the magma but affected by something else? Or is that just weird red plants, Idk

Coral Place:

THERE. ARE. FISH. This place feeds my internal love of pirates, and anything ocean. The coral looks so alive and this place seems like it's gonna have cool stuff in it

PLEASE TELL ME THIS GUYS IS A PIRATE OR SOMETHING- He looks like a pirate, I'm not the only one who think that right? Like, a knight pirate This arena feels very small and, humid. Probably because it is either underwater or close to water. it seems really misty in there. The fact that the lanterns are held with coral, vine, things is so cool- Also there's pipes in the background! Maybe those are connected to something? I'm not trying to theorize everything I just think the possibilities are cool- I'mma call this the swamp place:

This looks like a swamp, what kind? an eerie one. It almost looks like there's ash in the air! Also the vine things in the back? so cool, the more faded they get makes this area feel very misty or foggy, which gives it a feeling of, idk, eeriness? spooky? The guy here looks like he's using a fishing pole as a weapon- which makes sense given the amount of water. The grass and, I forgot what those are called. SWAMP REEDS- are really big so it makes this place feel WAY bigger, or hornet way smaller. Not sure but I can't wait to explore this place and Probably get lost along the way.

GEARS:

I don't know what this place is, what it's for, but it feels almost steampunk so that's an automatic love from me. Also love these little flying guys, they're really cute and yeah- The gears are also super cool! It almost looks like she's inside a clock :0 This place feels warm but not, dry or humid. Just warm, a comfy warm

This section is just stuff I wanna ramble about/add so:

Cutely going insane over the fact that this place is probably a Giant rib cage

THIS PLACE. IDK WHAT IT IS OR WHAT IT'LL DO BUT I LOVE IT. JUST LOOK AT THAT BACKGROUND- Like, the 'sky' looks blue. ARE WE OUTSIDE? omg- I also love all the building in the back I just OMGOMG- It also looks like there's giant pipes, maybe it's close to the Citadel? Idk but this place makes me feel so happy I just wanna stare at it, I WANNA EXPLORE-

If you've made it this far thanks- This was the only place I could actually let out my excitement over a game that's not even out yet so- yeah- If you have any questions about stuff I rambled about or said then feel free to put something in my inbox about it so, yeah-

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paperandsong · 2 years

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Is Ancient Magus Bride Gothic?

A story about a vulnerable orphan girl, abused and haunted, who is welcomed into the home of a mysterious older man - this could be the summary of Ancient Magus Bride or Jane Eyre. Rochester’s home is even called Thornfield Hall!

Author Kore Yamazaki set her story square in the ancestral homeland of Gothic literature, but it is not clear that she meant to write a Gothic romance. In several interviews she lists her influences as folk and fairy lore from the British Isles, but she does not make reference to any Gothic novels:

“I grew up reading a lot of fantasy books about fairies. A lot of them took place in England. It was a place that was very close to my heart.” 2017 Interview

“I usually read books on mythology and folklore, and I often have a stock of ideas that I can use in development. Perhaps it's because I don't think of fantasy as something that can't happen in reality, so I create a story where humans meet fantasy in an ordinary way. ” 2021 Interview

(If you know of any interviews in which she does make reference to Gothic literature please let me know!)

Is Ancient Magus Bride Gothic? Some people might say no, it’s not Gothic because it’s Fantasy. I usually see it described as “dark fantasy.” But there are enough traditional Gothic motifs that make the question worth asking.

I used professor John Bowen’s list of Gothic motifs as a guide. Let’s start with ways Ancient Magus Bride is not Gothic and work through Bowen’s list.

Strange Places - It’s not the House

Most lists of Gothic motifs will include a castle or a rotting mansion. Bowen’s list did not specify that the “strange place” motif must be an old house, but even so, Elias’ home does not qualify as Gothic. It is cozy, well lit, the garden is neither secret nor overgrown, and even though his housekeeper is a banshee and its master a mage, it is not a haunted house or even very creepy.

A World of Doubt

Bowen writes “Gothic is … a world of doubt, particularly doubt about the supernatural and the spiritual.” In Gothic novels like the Secret Garden, and the Phantom of the Opera, there is persistent doubt about what is causing the action, something supernatural or something human? But this is not the case in AMB. There is never any doubt that magic and spirits are real and that they do influence the human world. We know from the very beginning what is haunting Chise. Chise has a lot of doubt about Elias, but she knows he isn’t completely human and that doesn’t frighten her.

Crisis

Bowen states that the Gothic is a way “to try to master and understand enormous [political] changes.” Gothic literature written in the nineteenth century often addresses the moral rot stemming from colonialism and slavery. There could be no Thornfield Hall without first a Jamaican sugar plantation. But Elias doesn’t live in a manor house. He isn’t really even British. AMB reads as a love letter to England from Yamazaki. It is definitely not a critique of nineteenth century colonialism.

Those are a few ways Ancient Magus Bride doesn’t fit into the Gothic tradition. Let’s explore some ways that it does:

Power and Constraint/Eroticism

Bowen writes, “The Gothic world is fascinated by violent differences in power, and its stories are full of constraint, entrapment and forced actions.” The subversion of the power dynamic between Chise and Elias is central to AMB. Chise begins the story with no agency at all; Elias has every power over her. While that dynamic shifts with time, the story poses burning questions: What does it mean that he owns her? What does he mean when he says he wants to make her his bride? What is marriage, really?

Bowen writes that gothic plots are “often driven by the exploration of questions of sexual desire, pleasure, power and pain.” Chise is full of questions about how she feels about Elias. While not clearly sexual, the contrained physical relationship - full of face touching and hair stroking - at least presents the questions: What kind of marriage will it be? Can they even?

The obsessive nature of their love is perhaps the most Gothic element of the story. Elias’ jealousy drives him to literal, monstrous hunger for Chise. And it doesn’t even scare her. This is Wuthering Heights territory.

Chapter 31: Forgive and Forget

The Sublime

Bowen credits philosopher Edmund Burke with the concept of the Sublime: “When danger or pain press too nearly, they are incapable of giving any delight, and [yet] with certain modifications, they may be, and they are delightful, as we every day experience.” There are many moments when Chise is overwhelmed or astonished, either by the beauty or terror of the world Elias shows her. Think about the first time she rides a dragon, the first time she uses her wand to fly on her own, the moment she wakes up in the fairy kingdom. These are scenes of fantasy, but they evoke in Chise a sense of fear and wonder. There are darker scenes of the sublime too - when Elias holds her in his jealous jaws or when she holds Cartaphilus in her arms, covered in blood and surrounded by a mesh of thorns.

The Uncanny

Bowen credits Freud with the concept of the Uncanny as seen in Gothic literature, defined as “...that class of the frightening which leads back to what is known of old and long familiar.” The question hanging over Elias Ainsworth is: Just how human is he? Aside from the times he uses a glamor, Elias does not try to hide his skull head. But he does take on the pretense of a man. The way he dresses, the way he holds his tea cup, his talk of marriage, all so very human. But also so very fake. I wrote a little more about this in my comparison of Elias and Erik (Phantom of the Opera).

Oberon & Elias in Chapter 8: The Faerie Queen

The Macabre

Not on Bowen’s list, but on mine. Are Chise and Elias meant to reference the Death and the Maiden motif? Elias’ wolf-skull head does make me think about death and mortality, even if he isn’t meant to embody death. Depressed and suicidal, death is very much on Chise’s mind. She is not afraid of death just as she is not afraid of Elias. Elias does carry fatal power. While he saves Chise’s many times over, he is always ready to destroy anything that gets in his way.

#mahoutsukai no yome #ancient magus bride #gothic literature #gothic #elias x chise #kore yamazaki #john bowen #jane eyre #literature

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checkoutmybookshelf · 6 months

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...Someone Get Me Back on the Ice

Ok, for a lot of reasons, I was never a competetive athlete. That said...I am Canadian and I was probably 3 or 4 years old when my grandparents bought me my first pair of skates and my parents took me to the (manmade) kiddie rink in the park to teach me to skate. My middle sister and I had skating lessons for a few years, our parents took us skating pretty often growing up, and when we moved into the big house in Alaska, we had a pond out back that we skated (and burned christmas trees--yes, it was always awesome) on every winter until I left the state. And even when I moved back to Canada, I brought my skates with me and still use the arenas and outdoor town square rink in the winter. All this to say that while I'm never going to be an Olympian, I deeply love skating, so when there was a cozy college skating romance between a figure skater and a hockey team captain...it was not a hard sell. And then I was absolutely delighted by this cozy, fluffy, very skate-y book. Let's talk Icebreaker.

CONTENT WARNING: I'm not going to cover much of this here, but if anyone wants to pick up this book, please be aware that it does contain disordered eating, a super controlling/abusive relationship, and a near-death experience, so take care of you when choosing your books!

The very last thing Anastasia Allen wants to do right before sectionals is be forced to share her rink with a hockey team. Then she gets adopted by a bunch of overgrown man-children with hearts of gold who enjoy body-slamming other overgrown man-children into the boards over a puck. It is possibly the most adorable thing I have ever seen, and it is the best possible embodiment of the healthy, non-toxic version of "boys will be boys" insofar as the team just genuinely love and support each other and make space for Anastasia and Lola in that world with care, respect, and joy. I love it so, so much.

Of course, Anastasia is not here just to be adopted by a hockey team. She's also very much in danger of falling deeply in love with Nate Hawkins, captain of said hockey team. Nate and Anastasia are a genuinely darling, adorable couple, and watching them together was just FUN.

Particularly in contrast to Anastasia's relationship with her skating partner, Aaron. Who is--to put it mildly--the biggest most manipulative toxic douchebag I have ever seen. There's something about his and Anastasia's relationship that managed to embody everything that can go horribly toxic with athletic partnerships and how difficult it can be when your dream relies on someone who is actively trying to drag you down.

The super nice thing though, is that Aaron is absolutely the bad guy in this book. Neither Nate nor Ryan (the adorable himbo basketball player she begins the book in a friends-with-benefits arrangement with) descend to Aaron's level. They are there to support Anaastasia. That doesn't mean they don't get angry or jealous--they're human men in their late teens/early 20s, of COURSE they get angry and jealous--but they deal with those emotions pretty freaking healthily, and they don't descend into petty ego-based bullshit. Add that to Anastasia's therapy-honed communication skills, and the relationships in this book are just so well done. Sometimes relationships in romances can get weirdly toxic for drama, but that's not the case here, which made this cozy romance GENUINELY delightful to read.

The side characters are also super well-developed and full of personality, so everyone in this book feels well-rounded, real, and delightful. From Lola to Henry, Robbie, Russ, and JJ, you get to know an ensemble of strong secondary characters in the context of the main romantic relationship, and Anastasia and Henry's platonic love for each other might be the best platonic relationship I've seen in FOREVER. I would 100% read a spinoff novel about those two buddy-ing around.

Author Hannah Grace is a self-proclaimed "fluffy comfort book writer," and if Icebreaker is any example, then ACCURATE. And I cannot recommend this book enough, it was a delight to read from start to finish.

#hannah grace #icebreaker #stas and nate #cozy romance #sport romance #ice skating #college romance #books and reading #books & libraries #books and novels #books #book recommendations

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ghouljams · 5 months

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Friend.

Viking!Ghost with a huge wolf-dog.

Or, even better : shepherd!reader with a huge wolf-dog, or two ; big, ferocious babies who absolutely love the guy, smothering him in kisses and floof every time he visits his darling. Huge balls of fluff who are absolutely delighted when he picks both of them up as if they were still puppies. Reader falling a little bit more in love with him every time she catches him interact with them, gently talking to them as their tails wag and wag and wag. And Ghost who has to suck in a breath when he finds her asleep in the barn after she spent the night helping one of her sheep give birth, the two dogs acting as really big and warm blankets, along with all the other sheep ; just a huge pile of snuggles that won’t let any kind of cold wind through. Just utter cuteness, and the huge, powerful viking is smitten.

My period has been acting up since yesterday, and last night was a nightmare. I’m a little bit better, but I can’t eat otherwise it’s gonna start all over again. I am not hurt, I AM the hurt. I really wish I had a big doggo or one of my cats to snuggle with, or a partner to help with the panic attacks this shoot always comes with (or all of those, I need warmth and cuddles and love).

I wanna write, by I can’t, because brain not braining properly. So I’m imagining fluffy scenarios while listening to the rain outside.

The birds are singing in harmony with the rain. It’s a cozy melody.

Lots of love, Friend.

Mii, out (like a light, soon, probably).

You're getting used to the visits. The giant of a viking that hovers just at the edge of your fence, watching like he's got something to say only to turn away when you ask him to say it. The dogs like him, galloping over to the man every time his shadow crosses your fence. They wiggle and jump like puppies, pushing their big paws against his chest and stretching long with their heads back, the only man that hasn't been bowled over by them yet. You can't blame them for their affections.

Your guest scoops up one of them and cradles the overgrown mutt against his chest. Your dog, for all its ferocity, licks at his mask like the tamest pup in a litter. You get your flock settled before making your way over. It's a fair assumption the viking won't walk away with your dog, so you're guessing he's worked up the nerve for a conversation. You manage to get all the way to the fence, though he takes a step back when you lean against it. You switch your attention to the dog still on the ground and scratch under her chin. Her big eyes stare sadly up at you, as if you could pick her up like the viking.

"Ghost," he says, and you're struck by how rich his voice is, deep and smokey as a dwarves cavern, "you can call me Ghost," he explains, apparently having realized his attempted start at a conversation wasn't going to go anywhere.

"There another viking hidin' his face like you?" You ask him, the introduction is lovely (if a little awkward) but everyone in the village knows Ghost. Or, they know of him. Nobody really knows him. You figure that's what the mask is for.

"Suppose not," he replies, and there's a touch of humor in his voice you hadn't expected. It makes you think he's smiling. Somehow that makes your cheeks feel hot. Strange.

"What do you need Ghost?" You ask, leaning against the fence. He leans to put your dog down, and the other one goes to nose his hand. He scratches her head lightly before straightening up.

"Just came to pet the dogs," he tells you. You smile. "No show this time?" He asks.

"No wolves," you nod towards the pasture, your flock safe and sound as they graze. Your eyes land on the wolf fang sewn to his leather. It's familiar enough to make your heart squeeze. You wish he'd come for you.

You're not out in the pasture, or answering the door when he knocks. It's early but Ghost didn't think you'd be that sound a sleeper. Fucking hell it's early, he shouldn't even be here but he wanted to see you before he left and- and he couldn't stop himself. He was delaying leave for his own selfish desired, but he couldn't stop himself from coming out to your little pasture. He had no excuse for it, nothing he could tell you, but he didn't want to talk to you he wanted to see you.

These are two different things.

He wanders around the fence you've put up, sturdy, well maintained. He wonders if you fix it up yourself or ask someone else to do it. You could ask him, he'd fix it for you. He'd fix anything for you. As long as it was you asking, he could do anything.

He stops outside a little covered barn, the hay leading into it is fresh, the doors slightly ajar. It's a good bet if he's ever seen one. The hinges don't stick when he inches the door open to look inside.

One of your dogs lifts its head from your lap, and stares at him, it's fluffy tail wagging softly against the hay. You're asleep, of course you're asleep. Sprawled over the hay, your dogs cuddled around you, the rest of the sheep settled to huddle close to their shepherd as well. You're surrounded by thick wool and wirey dogs, hardly bothered by the animals and straw as you sleep through the wee hours of the morning. You don't even look cold.

Ghost unhooks his cloak, the black leather and wolf's fur feeling ominous in such a pastoral scene, and drapes it over you like a blanket. Your dogs sniff it inquisitively, nosing it until he pushes their heads away with gentle pats. He tucks the fur against your neck and strokes his knuckles against your cheek. You're so beautiful, soft and vulnerable even under your fangs. He would have taken you to bed last night if you'd let him. Stayed up to watch the ewe and her new lamb while you curled up under the pelt blankets to sleep. How safe must you feel? How safe would he feel?

His thumb strokes against the fur and he stands. You'll still be here when he gets back, maybe not in the barn but here. In the village, in your pasture, right where he knows he can find you.

And hopefully, you'll be wearing his cloak when he does.

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folightening · 2 months

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What if we ran away

Hetalia - Portswiss

It was his favorite place to run to: somewhere that didn't exist. A place where he wasn't Prince João. Where he and Vash could be together without having to hide.

"I thought this might have been where you ran off to."

João looked at Vash for a moment before turning his gaze back to the leaves dancing in the wind.

"Their Majesties weren't happy with you running off the way you did."

"I know."

Vash sat by him and comfortable silence reigned between them. For a minute he remained where he was, watching the clouds pass by as leaves danced in the wind. Then he got up and changed position so he was lying with his head in Vash's lap.

"We should run away."

"To where?"

"Away."

"Surely you have a more specific location in mind."

"Anywhere as long as you're with me."

Silence stretched on and João peered up at Vash to find him staring away, the color of his cheeks giving away how flustered he was. It was always so easy to fluster Vash.

"They would send the others after us," Vash finally said. "We would have to leave the kingdom, and even there we'd have to stay in hiding. It would be completely different from the life you've had."

"New and exciting."

"Until you tire of it." Vash pet his hair. "I don't think a life in hiding is for you."

"I could never tire of a life with you."

This time he got to watch as the lovely pink returned to Vash's cheeks.

"Okay. We run away. We avoid all the knights sent after us and make it to safety. What then?"

"You tell me. Where do you bring me?"

For a few long moments Vash was silent. João closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Vash's fingers in his hair.

"There's a cottage nestled in trees part way up the mountain."

"Describe it for me."

"An abundance of flowers surround the building, and the old path is faded and overgrown. Old, made of stone and wood. It's small and cozy but big enough for two. The opposite of your lavish castle."

The image João had was more than likely not what Vash was describing. But it was beautiful: a hideaway where they could ignore the rest of the world and be them. A fantasy to retreat to where he and Vash could live the life they wanted.

"Take me there."

Vash stroked his cheek.

"If only I could."

#hetalia #portswiss #aph portugal #aph switzerland #hws portugal #hws switzerland #portswiss prince & knight #fol stuff

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natewriteslol · 2 years

Text

The Wonders of Magic Pt.2

Warnings: fem reader, language?

Characters in this chapter: Riddle, Azul, Leech Twins

A/N: So ig Nate is making a comeback >:)

Summary: Trying to find the location of one of the energy emblems of your wand leads you right back to those rich kids...

The tour had went a lot more smoothly than you thought it would. You showed them around campus and came right back at 9 as requested so that Ms. Flint didn't chew your head off.

It was awkward at some points but, you managed to get through it. However, the calculating eyes of the white haired guy with glasses was unshakable. No matter how much you talked without looking back trying to distract yourself, you could feel the eyes of almost every single boy piercing your back with judgement, but his especially.

When you would check on them, looking back every so often, you could see that he felt disappointed that you didn't show the him the entirety of the campus, especially the forest. Almost looking like he was about to throw a temper tantrum with the angry blush that rose up to his cheeks.

If you could recall him muttering under his breath, "That's not nearly enough time" once Ms. Flint gave out the orders to be back by 9.

But once you finished the tour they all went home. You partied and ate your heart out, you deserved it after all. When the night was over you went to your dorm you faceplanted on your pillow in your lower portion of the bunk bed. Saying goodnight to Miete and Silva and immediately falling asleep.

It was Saturday morning, Miete was ecstatic wanting you to tell her every detail of the night with them, once you got to the cafeteria you gave a thorough storytime. Until she stopped you.

"And so I asked what their names were and-"

"You didn't know their names?!" Miete whisper yelled.

"No... so I asked," you said, you confused on what the big deal was.

"Y/N, how did you not know who they are? They're some of the most richest boys in the country!"

. . .

Well, how were you supposed to know that? You weren't exactly in the loop, especially the who's the richest and who isn't.

"O-oh my gosh this is hilarious" Silva cackled, clutching the oak lunch table with a ghastly pale hand. Miete brushed off Silva’s laughter continuing her worrying "W-What did they say?!"

"They were a little shocked but they were okay. The one who looked the most upset was ummm...Vil Schoenheit was his name?"

Miete looked like she was about to faint, her brown eyes going wide. Silva was having an excellent time reacting to your confusion, just laughing away.

"Being around you is never boring, Y/N, I'll tell you that. But, Vil Schoenheit is one of the most famous actors in the world. His ad for one of the movies he was in was on the TV last week," Silva explained, finally back to her usually relaxed mood.

"No wonder he looked familiar..."you said, finally connecting the dots.

Miette sighed, she loved you dearly but sometimes your ignorance about certain things was just too much to handle.

"It's okay, the tour is already over and I won't ever see their pretty boy faces again!" You joked, making a smile spread across the girl’s cheeks.

However, you spoke far too soon...

~~~

It was just your luck that you managed to have your wand not work in the middle of Charms class. You had no idea what happened, with it suddenly malfunctioning. But nothing seemed to repair it, with sparks flying in and out of the tip of the wand but none of the spells were casting.

Once you finished your classes, you took it to the repair shop by yourself, as they would know would know what to do.

Walking to the shopping center in town, you spotted the wand shop that had been there longer than you had been alive, an old and weathered yet cozy shop. A sign nailed above with faded red letters reading “Ronnie’s Magical Emporium”.

Getting inside you talked to the old man inside, a man with a plump belly, overgrown eyebrows and grey hair took it into his gloved hands.

"Sorry kid, this wand is missing pieces," the old man said, examining the wood with his weathered hands.

What?! How is this possible, the wand was working completely fine only two days ago?”

"There must be something I can do, please! I need this wand for school," you pleaded, your charms exam training was in two days which was absolutely unmissable, and you were low on money, there was no way you could by a replacement then and there.

The shop owner sighed, taking off his magnifying eye glass tool.

"Well, there is one thing you can do. Your wand is missing the Magna Pars, also known as the Great Piece of your wand. This often happens with antique wands and the Magna Pars escapes the binds of old wood," he explained "Since it's only been a couple of days it hasn't fully disappeared and you can find it’s location.”

"How do you do that?" you asked, finally a sliver of hope for your unlucky streak.

"The 'Inventor' part of the wand can be able to track where the Magna Pars went," the shopkeeper finishes.

With a flick of the wrist, white heavy sparks flew, it conjured up a map of the entire country. Seeing a bright golden light on the map, the old man zoomed in on it.

"Ah, it's located on the NRC campus," he said.

The named sounded familiar, but then again the academy wasn't too far from Calypso.

"Just go and ask em', I'm sure they'd understand and let you in," he said with a kind smile.

"Thank you so much for your help!"

With your situation solved, you decided to grab your things and make a field trip to Night Raven College in the morning.

~~~

You left a note for your roommates, them still sleeping soundly in their bunk beds and set off in foot, taking a bus to the campus.

Walking through the forest that acted as a natural barrier between both campuses, above the even the tallest of trees you could see the multiple black spires of what looks like a castle. Once you finally got to the end of the forest, you saw the campus in all of its glory. It was absolutely huge, far more significant than Calypso. The campus was beautiful, yet it felt NRC slightly cold to say the least. But you blamed your acuity on your nerves, and decided to head inside as there was no gate to the school after all.

The grand black door was left unlocked, sneaking through. Wanting to be as quiet as possible, and to your luck there was no one lurking the halls of school except the occasional security guard.

You pulled out the map again to remember where you had to go exactly. And just your luck, the Magna Pars was in one of the top towers of the school...great.

Turning a corner you looked on both sides, staying on the tips of your toes for your shoes not to squeak.

You had only made it once you saw him, a quip of red hair bouncing up and down as he went up the stairs.

It was the red head from a couple of days ago, carrying a thick stack of papers along with a stern look on his face.

That's why the name rang a bell, while they were there only for business, they just so happened to all attend Night Raven College.

'A little strange that they call it a college when almost all of them are too young to be attending a college. You're better off calling it an academy-'

Caught in your thoughts in an attempt to boost your mood, you neglected your steps. Your shoes let out a harsh squeak against the dark marble of the floor, catching the attention of the red haired boy from a hall over.

You scurried quickly to hide, Riddle not yet seeing you. But he could've sworn he heard footsteps! If there was a student evading class, he had to stop them.

So, he listened in extra closely on your footsteps, trying to find your location, yet the echo of the large halls made it incredibly difficult.

It took a long while until Riddle realized that this was childish, what would people think if they saw him like this? Especially his mother. Besides security would catch them anyways, but we all know that one can't depend on them to enforce the rules.

He'll drop off the papers, and then come back to get the rulebreaker.

~~~

To your advantage the short, fiery boy had left you alone. Making it easier for you to get across the halls. But you had a sneaking feeling that he would come back to find you.

'Be quiet as a mouse- wait... mouse! Just turn into a mouse!'

While your wand was out of commission to do many regular things, it could cast very simple spells such as rolling a pencil to yourself, or turning you into something small, like a mouse. However the wand most definitely had limits, so you couldn’t over use it.

Conjuring up the spell, you felt everything shrink and there you were, a brown mouse. Scampering through, you had a lot of energy to compensate for the lack of ground you were covering. Yet you heard the familiar click of heeled shoes.

Red haired guy.

And to your dismay, he saw you as a rat running on the floor.

“So you were the noise that I heard, you little vermin. Once I catch you it will be off with your head!"

You let out a scream, surprising you with his angry voice echoing off the walls. He was shocked at the sound of such a human-like scream, you certaintly weren't a regular mouse.

Your speed was quicker than his, and you made it to the outside, getting Riddle off your tail.

~~~

Riddle was out of breath, his hands on his knees. How idiotic of him! Spending time playing a game of cat and mouse with someone skipping class, only to then literally a game of cat and mouse.

He had to get the rest of these papers to Professor Crewel, he was only halfway done with his paper work for the dormitories after all. And regardless of the possible vermin that might be running around the school, your dorm comes first.

Yet he had a suspicion that this wasn't the end of the antics running around this school.

The mouse seemed too sentient... it got scared by his presence and the look in its eyes was too human.

The spout of light that he saw...

Being a part of the student body means that you have to enforce rules and the safety of your peers no matter what.

And what better enforcement then Azul Ashengrotto.

~~~

You already were in the second half of the campus, the tower was actually in sight! You clambered up the stairs, seeing the golden glimmer of the Magna Pars.

Just

One

Ste-

"I'm going to need you to stop right there, little witch~" a voice said, coming out from the shadows of the opposite side of the building. You look to see two six foot tall men, accompanying the red head, the glint of menace in their eyes was enough to send goosebumps down one’s.

"Wait please this is all a big understanding, I just need that thing over there!" You explained, pointing above at the sparkling piece near the statue. "It's a part of my wand-!"

"You break into our school, waste my time chasing you around school and now you want to steal one of the treasured artifacts from NRC?" Riddle scoffed "You witches are worse than I thought."

"I swear, I would never steal the statue but just check behind it!" You said, becoming more anxious as the cerulean hair inched away from Riddle and Azul and closer to you.

"Jade, Floyd... seize her."

But just as they took a step toward you, the tower ground began to rumble.

It was happening, the Magna Pars was close to rupturing. The ground began to shake and glow a golden light, the tower was far too elderly to withstand the shaking.

While they were distracted, you performed the spell you know best and turned yourself into a mouse. Scampering through the small bridge that connected to the top of the tower.

Gripping the Magna Pars in your teeth, you transformed back, placing the golden crystal in your wand. The old roots welcoming honey colored gem inside as if it were alive.

“Magnerius!” you yelled, mending the entire bridge back together, except your piece of the bridge.

The boys watched as you fell towards the ground in shock, everything happening was so quick. You were falling from an grand height of four stories, letting out a whistle, before yelling "Nisi terram!"

They looked down, only to not see...anything? You were no where to be found on the ground below. Only for them to hear a hey from the opposite side of the group of boys. Gripping onto the base of the broom in the middle of the air.

You looked Riddle right in the eye, "Not all witches are evil like you think. I hope you have a change of heart someday, and you can see that magic isn��t that bad."

Before they could blink you were already way ahead of them, unable to catch you, yelling being extremely useless as from where you were at it would just sound like gibberish to them. You were in a hurry after all, knowing that Miette and Silva would wonder where you were after three of being gone.

However, it was only when you were back at your dorm that you realized your good luck charm was gone. It was a phone charm of a magic wand that was given to you by your mother.

But you decided to let it go, you couldn't return to that school unless you wanted to be burned at the stake by the students. Maybe you could just ask her for a new one, it would still have the same significance in your heart of her wishing that you do your best in magic school no matter what anyone says.

~~~

'Not all witches are bad, I hope you have a change of heart.'

Riddle's heart panged with guilt, but why? Witches aren’t necessarily societally important. Maybe he wished he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him?

He typically remained neutral on the subject of witches, not caring about whether the tradition of magic died or lived on. But even then, Riddle knew it was rude to let that prejudice comment leave his mouth, regretting it. His pride was incredibly bruised as he stood on the stone bridge after you had saved him.

He apologized to the twins and Azul for wasting their time, and they all swore not to speak of this event to anyone. The twins left Azul on the bridge, the white haired boy saying that he would catch up with them later.

What a wonderful scene Azul just witnessed, how could anyone think that magic is a useless tool. When it's the most perfectly package opportunity. And that little witch could be the perfect gateway for his plan.

A gleam of light drew his attention to a little plastic charm. It was a pink sparkly wand, like something out of those magical girl cartoons Idia seemed to like.

You just couldn't seem to stay away and out of trouble.

How unfortunate for you! But oh so wonderful for him...

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