#those blasted fireplaces!!!

[thebramblewood]

The Great Vatore Manor Fire

[amongemeraldclouds]

Dancing in the rain with the Slytherin boys

Ft. Matteo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 2.2k words

Lorenzo Berkshire (established relationship, modern au)

The walk home should have been simple and straightforward. But as you stepped out the bustling restaurant, you traded the warmth for the unexpected downpour. Yet it could not dampen your good mood; the alcohol buzzing in your veins made sure of that.

“You sure?” Enzo asked as you opened the door and faced the rain.

“We’ll be fine, it’s just a short walk,” you suggested and he simply shrugged in agreement.

The song blasting from the restaurant stayed with you and you found yourself singing the lyrics. You wondered how a space cow found its way in a song about summer romance, but it seemed to match the beat of the song. It was good enough for you.

“Are those even the right words?” Enzo asked, a small laugh accompanying his question. It was not.

“Space cows can be wherever they want to be!” You declared.

“Yeah space cows!” He cheered you on as he started singing with you, ever the supportive boyfriend.

“You know since we’re singing,” you said, a glint in your eye, “we might as well dance. It’s just us here.”

Enzo stopped abruptly in front of you and surprised you with a bow. “My lady,” he said, courteously reaching out his hand. You held a corner of your dress in each hand and curtsied.

You took his hand and found yourself dancing on the empty sidewalk with Lorenzo Berkshire. You hummed the song as you moved, feeling his body move in sync with yours.

When you arrived home, you’d shower and warm up with a cup of tea. You’d spend the rest of the day cuddled beneath cozy sheets, wood crackling in the fireplace. But for now, the rain drowned out everyone and everything else. In that moment, it was just you and him dancing with your silly smiles.

Mattheo Riddle (enemies)

You exited the hall and stepped into the evening air, eager to get away from the music and merriment. You were the furthest thing from feeling festive. Not after your date had ditched you for another pretty girl.

Your cheeks burned with rage and embarrassment and you tried taking deep breaths to steady your nerves.

Just when you thought an already bad evening couldn’t get worse, you saw lightning flash through the sky followed by a crack of thunder. Before you could safely make your way back the castle, you found yourself drenched in the sudden downpour.

With no other outlet for the intense emotions, you released a frustrated scream and your tears soon joined in the rain. You jolted when a warm hand touched your shoulder.

You inhaled the telltale scent of cigarette smoke. Through the blur of tears, you saw Mattheo Riddle. Of all people, it really had to be your enemy. He must have been smoking outside and got caught in the rain.

“What happened to your dashing date?” He spat.

“Come to laugh at me, have you?” You said bitterly. “He’s off with a prettier girl,” you said, not sure why you were even talking to him.

“Why, I’ll break his face” he started and it was your turn to put his hand on your shoulder.

“But why? Don’t you hate me?” You asked, confusion mixing with your cocktail of rage, disappointment, and weariness.

“Obviously,” he said quickly then added, “but only I can be horrible to you.”

“You can’t be possessive over your enemy, that’s not how it works,” you shot back.

“I can be possessive over who I want to be,” he moved closer, arguing.

You sighed. It had been a long day. “Fine, just let me wallow here in peace.” You muttered, “didn’t even get to bloody dance.”

He studied you closely, it was unfair how gorgeous you managed to look despite the tears and soaking rain. The look in your eyes broke something in him.

You were stunned when you found yourself in his arms. “I’m only doing this so I don’t have to look at your crying face. This is for my benefit,” he explained, trying to sound annoyed.

Then he really was annoyed when he realized how nice it felt. To distract himself, he started to move, swaying you both to the beat of a song only he could hear. It soothed the storm raging within you.

“For the record, this never happened,” Mattheo stated, quick to deny everything.

“As if I want everyone to know I danced with you,” you said even as you matched his rhythm, “no thank you.”

“Good,” he stated.

“Good,” you replied, not wanting him to have the last word.

There was an odd comfort dancing with Mattheo. You could overanalyse it later. For now, you savoured how secure you felt in his arms, his body warm against you. Electric sparks lit within you as if lightning coursed through you.

Hidden by the onslaught of rain, you could pretend you’re not enemies even if it’s only for a moment.

Draco Malfoy (established relationship, modern au, Yule Ball)

The regal melody of classical music greeted you as the footman opened the limousine door and the cold wind caressed your hair. Draco waited near the door in his crisp tailored suit, his hair neatly gelled back. You took his outstretched hand and smoothed your hand over your dress when you exited the car. You were fashionably late and ready to make a grand entrance at the Yule Ball.

“Ready to party?” He asked. Salazar, you were gorgeous. He was eager to show you off to everyone.

“You mean get drunk and dance the night away? Count me in!” You leaned in, inhaling his expensive cologne. 

You had just taken two steps away from the car when thunder clapped and the sky rumbled ominously. Draco put a protective arm around you as if he could save you from the elements.

“Let’s get inside quickly, yeah?” You nodded wordlessly, trying to walk as fast as you could in heels. Despite his rush, he was patient enough to match your pace, placing you as his first priority even when the first drops of rain fell on your heads.

“Bloody storm,” he muttered. Before you knew it, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour, soaking you from head to toe. You gasped. Hours of hair and makeup was smeared off by Mother Nature in a matter of seconds.

You could sense the thoughts in Draco’s head: “how much would this cost me at the dry cleaners,” “this suit was made for balls and dinner parties, not mud and rain,” and “how dare the elements!”

Instead he looked at you, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the disappointment in your eyes and the set of your jaw. You were doing your best to hold it together.

“Not the kind of ball I expected” he said, turning to face you, “but we’re here and there’s music around us. May I have this dance?”

You laughed at him, but when he didn’t join you, you blinked. He shrugged as if to say ‘why not?’

For the second time this evening, you took his hand and he spun you around. Water droplets traced your movements and he watched you in slow motion. It’s ridiculous how you still looked perfect despite everything. He was relieved to hear a small laugh escape you.

He wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you in, his other hand still firmly holding yours. You leaned in his shoulder, “sorry this didn’t work out the way you expected.”

He shook his head. “Whatever do you mean? I’m dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world. I’m still the luckiest man here tonight.”

Tom Riddle (established relationship, spicy but not smut)

Tom Riddle did not do parties. Yet he somehow found himself walking alongside you, accompanying you to one.

“I want to dance!” You declared.

“I’d rather die,” he muttered.

You laughed and took his hand, leading him outside the castle grounds.

“This isn’t the way to the party,” he observed.

“It’s a compromise, we’ll bring the party to us,” you grinned. He sighed in surrender.

“Hear that?” You asked, the faint party music audible from where you stood. You took his hand and started moving. “I’ll look less silly if you joined me?” You offered hopefully.

“Then we’ll both look silly,” he stated.

As if Mother Nature was on his side, rain fell from the sky unceremoniously. You were instantly soaked.

“Come on,” you insisted, still asking him to dance.

“You know I love you all wet and needy doll, but not like this,” he said, not budging from where he was.

“How about this?” You offered, lowering your voice. “After this, we’ll enjoy a nice hot bath together and then I can be wet and needy for you the way you like it.”

He closed his eyes and groaned, already picturing all the sinful things he would do to you. “Fine,” he growled, “you’ll be punished for this doll. I’ll make you regret it.”

You casually shrugged and smiled, “worth it. Now come on, the sooner we dance, the sooner you’ll have me just where you want me.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours, his other arm snaked around your waist as he drew you in. Bodies flush together, you felt his hard length against you and you moaned against his lips.

He started moving you both slowly, the upbeat party music long forgotten. You let him lead, glad to have him dance with you in the rain.  

Despite everything he brought his lips to your ear and said in a low voice, moving his hands around your body. “I already have you where I need you.” That hot shower would have to wait.

Theodore Nott  (established relationship)

“As much as I’d love to get away from the party with you amore, it’s storming outside,” Theo said, stopping as you both neared the exit. 

“A little rain wouldn’t hurt,” you grinned and stepped outside, getting drenched within seconds. You welcomed the cold and lifted your head to the sky, raising your arms and spinning. You looked so carefree and it tugged something in Theo’s heart.

“Come back here, we can stay warm indoors,” he offered.

“Too late, join me!” You asked, running towards him. Instead your shoe slipped on the wet grass and you lost your balance. Theo’s eyes widened as he held his arms out as if he could catch you.

He saw you on the floor, shoulders shaking and he rushed towards you. When he neared you, he put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, your laughter piercing through his concern and he breathed a sigh of relief. “If it brought you out here, it’s worth it,” you thought aloud as he helped you back up your feet again.

“Come on, someone’s got to keep me upright. Dance with me, caro,” you said, wrapping your arms around him.

“With no music?” He asked skeptically. He was not making this easy.

You looked at him, listening closely to the rumbling in the clouds. Any second now. Lightning struck and you raised your finger. On cue, you heard the crack of thunder. “There,” you said, taking a step back to hold his hands. You started spinning around again, taking him with you this time as you raised your head up the sky again.

You were so full of life, your energy so infectious, that Theo let the rain wash away his protests. He mirrored you and lifted his head up the sky, feeling the raindrops on his face. The things he did for love, he sighed inwardly as he smiled.

Blaise Zabini (established relationship, modern au)

You laughed as the first drops of rain fell. It was sweet relief after a sweltering afternoon at the festival. You raised your head up, welcoming the rain, and bopped your head side to side to the beat of the music. 

You looked to the side and saw your boyfriend, Blaise, already watching you. He was a man of few words, but his expressions and actions told you all you needed to know. It took forever to convince him to join you at a festival where it would be crowded, loud, and now muddy. But here he was, grinning at you.

Blaise held out his hand to take your phone and he tucked it safely in your tiny waterproof bag that he carried for you. You pecked a kiss on his cheek to thank him. He didn’t seem to mind the rain though you could tell he was trying hard not to be bothered by the cold and mud.

You grabbed his hand, waiting for the DJ to drop the beat. You mirrored his grin in anticipation, the bass building up slowly as the rain fell down heavily. Your heart thumped along the music’s beat, your body dancing along the rhythm, the crowd electric as the music built up to its crescendo.

You counted down with other festival-goers, breaths held: 3, 2, 1.

The beat dropped. You launched yourself in the air, bringing Blaise with you, chanting along with the crowd. Everyone else blurred as you kept your eyes on him, watching his eyes glow with excitement.

It may have been dark and stormy around you, but right in front of you, his smile was all the sunshine you needed.

A/N: Based on a super cute request I received! Original ask will not be published for a bit as there are multiple ideas in there I’d like to play around with.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

[peachyfnaf]

Hello chatters. currently 8:30 in the morning, and I've been seeing a lot of Sun love going around (based btw) which reminded me that even though I don't yap about him nearly as much as I do Nexus, Sun was also given such a short end of the stick when it came to this arc.

I don't care for Monty, but I do love Puppet, but the way they both pressured Sun into choosing what to do with Nexus (New Moon at the time)??? that shit is so fucked. and yeah, because I am who I am (a Nexus apologist lol), I was mad and hurt when Sun was unable to tell them to not kill him. but unfortunately that tracks for him.

Sun's trauma response is, most of the time, to freeze. he's done it before when confronted by past Eclipse's, Bloodmoon's- if you're willing to use other dimensions as examples, Servant Sun quite literally froze and surrendered with his hands in the air out of fear when Old Moon first met him.

So, he did it again. he was put in a terrifying situation, and he froze. which led to Nexus freezing in space too amiright ahahahahhhhh

So, shit was already fucked for him at this point. because not only did he lose a close family friend (Solar), tried to help the other 3 through their grief and prioritizing their feelings over his own because he was- objectively- the least close with Solar, lose his brother to madness (which we now know there was like 10x more to that then just 'grief' makin' him act as he did. y'know. glares at Dark Sun and NSP), could basically do NOTHING as Earth was kidnapped by Ruin/Bloodmoon, and Nexus was blasted into space by Puppet.

And even though that was the end of that main arc, dude CONTINUED TO BE HANDED L'S AFTERWARDS. Old Moon being brought back by Monty (Monty.. >:[) without Sun even being asked about it first, Sun not being given the chance to properly heal from/mourn Nexus because O.M was now there, he filled his role, and O.M does not like Nexus. (chatters, I'm gonna warn you, ever since he came back, I've been an Old Moon hater. do not like that guy.) anD THEN EVERYTHING WITH DAZZLE/EVELYN??? july 16th of this year was like a very high peak in what's, to me, a very low-on-the-chart arc, but THAT DOESN'T MEAN SUN WAS OKAY DURING IT JFCCC. the TRAUMA he was reliving during that time HURTED

And even where he is now- he got his magic back, yuippee yayyy!!!

Because of it it seems like he's now intrinsically intertwined with NSP, and multiple people want to use him as a goddamn radar to find Wither Shards now. one of those people literally being The Creator, yaknow, like the stories Biggest Bad???

And another, "oooh, yaknow, that happeneddd, ahahahahhh.." was The Creator psychologically torturing him in one of the darkest SAMS eps' to date because of it.

AND. And, finally, the most recent episode that was Yapped to me about that well. 1, just made me hate O.M more, and 2, made me want to just wrap Sun in a blanket in front of a fireplace. The "Invaded By CRINGY FNAF in Vrchat" one. the way O.M spoke to Sun in that ep, the use of the gravely K.C voice that O.M only uses when making threats, I- I'll fuckin-

LEAVE THAT LITTLE GUY ALONE. I HOPE WHEN YOU AND NEXUS INEVITABLY FIGHT YOU GET CLOCKED IN THE JAW FOR THAT ONE. GOOD LORD.

...I've been typing this for like 50 minutes, apparently I had a lot more to say when it came to Sun than I first thought DGAIEPHDWGWLAH

Canon. canon, please, let Sun do something. let him be the one to free Nexus from NSP corruption, because of how much he's been shown to be resilient to it. let Sun be the one to stop The Creator's next big scheme instead of Moon. let him do things as important as all the others instead of just cleaning. the pieces for him to do so are right there. now put them in place.

[keiko-cornetto]

Contrary to what “catphiles” think, for most people cats are bad, egocentric, individualistic and completely insensitive animals. In fact, the film industry has been saying this for years, as the world is the world and Disney is Disney. However, there are some approaches, like the film The Aristocats, in which the good guys are (incredibly) THE CATS! OOOOOOH! And this is actually the only exception, because in all other cases felines are the cruel ones in the movies.

While dogs participate in films filled with love, cats in cinema are generally associated with villains.

Disney

Dogs are by far the population's favorite animals. Due to the ease of acquiring and maintaining at home, they have become ideal partners for anyone who has a pet at home. Cats come next in this dispute and associating a “rivalry” between animals (very associated with films), created this duel between pets and naturally those who have fewer fans end up being the “villains” of the story, in this case the cats

I can mention here several cartoons, books and films with the figure of the cat associated with the villain. Obviously, it's not just the same ones that tend to be associated with the villain, just look at the wolves that are also widely used. The thing is that it has even become a culture to create a production and place the cat as the villain because it is easier to associate and less complicated, even in several cartoons, such as Sylvester being less of a villain than

Sincerely? I have NOTHING against dogs, they are all beautiful, intelligent animals and deserve respect for their feelings, but the whole world has a wrong view about the personality of cats, aaaah yes they do!

So, let's get to the point: Another photo gallery, featuring the best-known feline villains in the history of cinema and television.

You've seen her in every Sylvester and Tweety cartoon you've watched. In them, Sylvester is always shown as a malevolent and stupid cat, whose only objective in life, to eat Tweety, is frustrated at every attempt by the canary's supposed superior intelligence. Sylvester and Tweety, who already existed separately in cinema, were coupled in 1949 by a Warner Bros. designer, Friz Freleng. In other words, for 51 years, children all over the world

Jerry the mouse, from Tom and Jerry, is perhaps even worse. Alone or with his minion, the mouse Spit, Jerry tortured the honest, sincere and gullible cat Tom in no less than 160 cartoons for the cinema, from 1940 to 1967. The creators of the duo were Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera (in fact, also responsible due to the impoverishment of cartoons with the "simplified animation" technique, which they invented when they started producing for television in the 60s). The latest designs were already delegated by Hanna and Barbera to bagrinhos, but the initial concept of the series never changed; While trying to protect his home from the presence of the parasitic and disgusting Jerry, Tom is electrocuted at the socket, set on fire in the fireplace, drowned in the sink, crushed by pianos and blasted through the ceiling. Insensitive and perverse boys watch this laughing in front of the TV - and probably repeat such violence with their cats.

There are no cat heroes in these powerful opinion makers that are cartoons. The heroes are always dogs, rabbits, ducks and, incredibly, especially a muddy mouse who hasn't made a film in 47 years and, even so, remains a symbol of a cartoon empire – have you ever heard the sound of Mickey Mouse? Walt Disney himself, although always careful that his studio did not offend anyone) was unable to hide his prejudice: in his films, the dog is the noble animal (see Lady and the Tramp and 101 Dalmatians, not to mention the 44 drawings of Pluto and 42 of Goofy made between 1940 and 1965). Nothing against that and Walt could like whatever animals he wanted. It turns out that almost all of his most famous drawings are also Anti-Cat

In Pinocchio, one of the villains is a weak and filthy cat who helps the fox deceive the doll. In Cinderella, the fat and treacherous cat Lucifer is a frightening threat to the mice Gus and Jaq. (clean rats that do not transmit any danger to humanity) In Alice in Wonderland, the Cheshire cat is far from being a sympathetic character – he knows that Alice could get into trouble and does nothing to stop it.

(I particularly love this cat)

In Lady and the Tramp, Si and Am are the two Siamese who destroy the curtains, attack the canary and the goldfish and attack the family's baby, causing the chaos that will send Lady to the cart.

And even in The Aristocats, which is supposed to be a pro-cat film, there are a handful of nasty stray cats on the scene, and the hero turns out to be, in fact, a mouse named Roquefort. And it's worth remembering that, in Mickey's very first cartoon, Steamboat Willie, from 1926, he tortures and executes a cat by turning it by its tail and throwing it into the sea. Come to think of it, Disney couldn't really like cats - he got rich building human mousetraps like Disneyland and Disney World.

It is normal that cinema has never done for cats what it has done for countless dogs, since Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin; cats refuse to be actors and it is impossible to train them to do things that dogs, seals and even elephants accept naturally, such as climbing stools, doing somersaults or balancing balls on their noses - the intelligence, dignity and independence of cats does not allow them to play these humiliating roles. It is only possible to make a film like Stuart Little, in which the cats seem to "do" things, by filming them naturally and adapting the scenes to the script, when not altering them electronically

but remember that all cinema portrays cats like this

as a cartoon that really disappointed me because it was one of my favorites, it's Shaun the sheepwhere the cat is shown as a villain and is evil in every episode

There are people who say that cats in cartoons like Lady and Tramp are villains because the story is portrayed through the eyes of dogs where cats will always be the villainsbut because when the cartoon is about cats, dogs are never villains, since dogs don't like cats, cats are afraid of dogs and in cat cartoons their friends are dogs

For those who love cats, don't be sad as there are many, many animes that don't portray the cat as a villain

In fact, cats have more space in anime than dogs, there are hero cats, there are villain cats, there are all types of catsCats are everywhere, it doesn't matter if the cat isn't there there will always be something that reminds you of the cat like clothes or cat ears in anime

44 cats and superkitties and they're really good

another very good film coraline:

and as always, those who don't like cats have theories that the cat was the biggest villain in the film

but I disagree since the cat always helped Coraline, even at the end when she wanted to open the door the cat went ahead because he knew she was in danger

This was the post about the poor cats, this post is not originally mine, I just added some things and I also didn't make this post with the intention of offending anyone.bye Bye

EDIT:

and the Oscar for most disturbed people goes to: Lim Yirang & Heo Sunhaeng two soulless South Korean directors

these two together directed a ridiculous and disturbing crap animated short film is a colorful and lively animation that takes place in a garden, it seems to be a type of children's and educational cartoon for children, where there are several cute stuffed animals and elves and even a princess everyone spends the seasons happily every day, until one day a huge evil CAT comes into action and kills everyone in the garden except the ''poor defenseless girl (the protagonist)'' what was supposed to be a beautiful and enchanted cartoon turned into a horror film, that's the kind of thing they want children to watch a scary CAT Everyone knows that most people who have a phobia of cats are because they only see them in films as villains or hear people who hate cats saying how dangerous they are. And the worst part is that this stupid cartoon actually takes place in a potted plant and they are all stuffed animals and die because the evil cat killed them, and the biggest destroyer of stuffed animals is man's dear best friend, that is, the puppy. but how these two Koreans probably fuel this rivalry between dogs and cats so something bad that the dog does they go and make a cat do it instead because the only villains in this world are cats Just like Mr Walt Disney (Koreans also show their huge preference for puppies) this animation should be remade and the big planes being two giant South Korean men with enormous evil in their hearts, children watching this later become afraid of cats and this even contributes to animal abuse these two men should be arrested

This animation could be beautiful but with a very low budget and stupid ideas the big villain should be a human since the biggest destroyer of nature is humans themselves, an animal would never destroy nature These two and Disney have a lot to learn from the great studio Ghibli, there are only good films for people of any age to watch

the biggest villains are humans and not cats

[rip-regulus]

random things I associate with the marauders + reg

james - the sun, cooking in an apartment with warm lighting, summer road trips specifically in a beaten up truck, red converse, the beach, wired ear buds, laying in a flower field, climbing trees, lighting mcqueen, the laurie love confession, a cd collection, pasta bakes, crying in the shower, treehouses, shotgunning a beer, forgetting to wear your glasses, singing on top of a table, large houses that are still really cozy, smiling really wide, frat parties, your mom jokes, slushy machines, doodles in the margin, polaroids

sirius - the stars, electric guitar, messy black sparkly eyeshadow, making snow angels, rings, having a bonfire, black chipped nail polish, a back pack covered in pin badges, drawing on a car window, smoking after sex, the arctic monkeys, motorbikes, david bowie vinyl, leaning out of a window, hickeys, zippo lighters, men walking the runway, bootcut jeans, setting off fireworks, mummy issues, blasting the radio, talking to the sky, leather jackets

remus - the moon, reading by a fireplace, black coffee, gatekeeping music artists, messily stacked books, really loud booing, grandpa sweaters, smoking in public, mars bars, scars, bed head, a swear jar, mismatched socks, playing chess, crisp autumn air, covering things in stickers, falling asleep in random places, writing a letter, anger issues, listening to records, studying for a test, leather book satchels, high alcohol tolerance

peter - the earth, telephone booths, potted plants, cobblestone streets, knowing secrets, tripping, crossword puzzles, not strong enough by boygenius, digital camera photos, gaming, decorating with picture frames, the end credits of movies, barbed wire fences, sleeping on a mattress on the floor, being exasperated, breaking your arm, big ears, fish eye lens, not being the first choice, welly boots, gambling, hardwood flooring, crayons

regulus - the ocean, paintings with a blurred face, smashed ceramic/glass, winged eyeliner, black cats, the story of icarus, reading poetry and classic literature, graveyards with overgrown grass, piano, religious trauma, bloody knuckles, freshly fallen snow, abandoned churches, nihilism, the movie coraline, gothic architecture, ballet, art museums, being at a crossroads, those windy staircases, the smell of rain, driving gloves, daggers

[stormywanderer]

Tricks of an Ex-rogue

Summary: Balor decides to use his old skills with rope for more explicit purposes. This is smut. Rated: Mature Author Notes: Y/N reader, p in v sex, bondage, over stimulation. This is just a oneshot, not really edited. Above art is official concept art from the game. Art and characters property of Fields of Mistria developer group. Plot/writing my own.

Falling for Balor had been easy. Like slipping fine satin silk over one’s hand. All it took was a sudden rainstorm and you were done for. Running like chickens past the drop box he intended to stop at, right to the house. An offer of mulled wine, some left over tart, a fully stocked fireplace, and soon he had your thighs pressed all the way back as he fucked you slow and sweetly in the fire light. Neither of you were sure when the storm had passed. Only that he had a sudden appreciation for a sweaty body splayed out next to a hearth.

Ever since, you both had been at it like rabbits. Every trip of his to your farm to pick up goods is another excuse to have you alone. Neither of you could trust being caught at the inn, not after the kids had walked into his room for that prank. Instead, the soft double bed, or your couch, or the fireplace hearth, or any other surface in your house had become his preferred place to see you.

Today wasn’t much different, only it was especially different.

“What’s that? I’m not sure I understood.”

Balor damn well understood, you know he did. With the blasted vibrating stone pressed unforgivably against your clit, he knew what he was doing.

You jolted at the electric sensation the flashed through you from your clit. The vibrating stone was relentless and being hung from the ceiling while tied up like wild game in a snare meant there was nothing you could do about it. Except for whine and beg while your thighs begin to shake.

“I-I can’t take any more-“you gasped. Every muscle tensed against the ropes; sensation long gone in your toes though you’re sure they’re curled too. It was all you could do to keep breathing, panting heavily as your chest heaved against the rope that was strapped both under and over your breasts.

He had your legs bent, calves folded behind you and tied to your thighs. The rope made a suitable enough harness, but being suspended meant that you couldn’t close your legs in retaliation if you tried. Arms? Those were also useless now. Folded behind your back and restrained at your forearms, all you could do was clench your fists to manage the onslaught of pleasure.

The only thing free, really, was your head. Which was currently tilted back as the wave of pleasure crested higher, and higher, and-

“Oh- OH - I can’t- I can’t-”

“You can,” Balor promised, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You can, and you will.”

With that, the intensity skyrocketed. The magic stone in his hand pressed firmly to your wet pussy far too much for you to handle. Your thighs shake and hips jolt against the restraints, as another electric flash of pure mind blowing ecstasy shoots right up your center to your chest. Your mind shorts, a shrill shriek breaking through you as your vision flashes white.

And it doesn’t stop at that, pussy clenching around nothing as your orgasm releases on to Balor’s nimble fingers.

“That’s it pretty girl. Look at you doing so well for me.”

Balor slows the intensity to near nothing, a small mercy, as he rubs small soothing circles with it against your clit. It’s several moments before your muscles can relax, aftershocks convulsing through you as you pant. When you do finally fall limp, head rolling forward to rest of Balor’s shoulder, he uses his free hand to stroke your hair.

“I’m so proud of you, you know? That was impressive.” The merchant coos soft praises against your ear. “Such a good girl for me.”

Balor pulls away then, gently cradling your head in his hand still as he looks down between you. Soft, plush, peaks of skin bubble between each cross section of rope. Your breasts are heavy as they bulge out in the makeshift harness. His eyes roam the landscape of skin created by his own hands till his gaze lands on your pussy. Between your thighs, everything is absolutely drenched. The sight is mesmerizing as he plays with you by massaging the still stone between your thighs still. Watching the way it slips between your plump lips.

His distraction is short lived, the sight reminding him of how painfully hard he’s been and that he wants nothing more than to have it be his cock slipping through those perfect lips.

Balor takes your chin in hand, nudging your mouth open.

“Here, hold this for me?” Balor says as he takes the dripping stone, still faintly glowing where a rune etches across one side, and places in your tongue before pressing your mouth shut. Its fills your mouth, completely stuffed. Unfortunately, the act of having skin contact on both sides of the magic item reactivates it and it starts to buzz back to life in your mouth.

Balor pretends to not notice the muffled moan that escapes you. At how readily you take in your own essence as it dripped off his fingers over your lips. Instead, he leans forward to whisper in your ear again.

“Before I continue, are you still okay?”

You nod twice, remembering the explicit instructions he had asked you to follow to be sure you were okay. Two nods to continue.

“Perfect-“ Balor said as he trailed down to kiss your neck.

His kisses become sloppier as he lowers himself to lave over one of your nipples before sucking the pert peak into his mouth. He’s as unrelenting at this. Suckling and mouthing over your nipple till the skin blotches purple, before switching to the other side. His patience comes in spades, still having yet to pleasure himself as you squirm till your breasts bounce against his mouth. Its only when he’s suitably fished with the second, slowly pulling his mouth back with your tit bouncing back with an soft ‘pop’, that he finally pulls away to grip squeeze your hips in his hands. You’re ready too, have been more than ready, dripping slowly on to the rug below you in anticipation.

“You look so good like this-“ Balor hums.

Balor wraps one arm around your waist to support you as his other deals with the knot behind you quickly. You tilt forward, weight no longer supported by the rope as he holds you up. Despite his slim stature Balor is more than able to carry you to the bed. He lowers your gently, before using the rope to turn you around so that your face down on the bed and ass up.

His skilled hands leave your body briefly to relieve himself of his own clothing. First his white shirt, tossed aside, then to his blue pants where his bulge visibly strains for release. He makes quick work of his belt. Without breaking his ministrations across your chest, he whips the belt out and shoves his pants down allowing his aching cock to spring free. You can only hear the shuffling of fabric and the clank of his belt as it drops to the floor.  Next thing you know, he grabs the rope at your hips and yanks you back to the edge of the bed where his cock slips up against your ass as your thighs slip over the edge to frame his own.

There is a brief separation from him as he pulls back. His slips the tip through your folds twice before pressing forward, followed by the slow ache of him filling you to the brim. Practically over spilling from your metaphorical cup as your breath escapes you. You can help the way your muscles flutter around the length of him at his pulls back once again. Only this time, he leans forward to take a fist full of your hair before slamming himself back home.

“Bmmmff!” Or Balor, if your mouth was gagged on the blasted stone.

He chuckles behind you and pulls your hair back more, lifting your front off the bed and arching your head back. “You’ll need to be a little clearer darling, I'm not sure I understood you.”

He sets a purposeful pace. Precise as always as he take’s his time thrusting at just the right angle. Its deepened by your position, your tied bad legs pulling muscles in just the right way for him.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathes out.

It’s barely audible over the slap of your skin against his. Each thrust punctuated by how he pulls you back to meet them.

You’re babbling around the stone, eyes tearing as you feel your body turn to molten lead. Hot in your lower belly as he hits the perfect spot over and over. As his pace slowly increases, so does your panting resulting in the stone slipping from your mouth and landing wetly on the bedding.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Comes your subsequent response to having your mouth free again. Babbling every time he fills the void only he can. “I’m so close, please~

It’s a small plea, a beg for mercy, He chuckles behind you as the pace quickens, his free handle snaking around your middle to massage firm circles into your clit. Its still far too sensitive, earning a cry from you as you clench around him. Its not long before your gushing around him again, the sound of each wet thrust growing louder and the molten lead of your belly flushes forward to seize you. Your eyes roll back, mouth open sluttily as you welcome each thrust that grows sloppier than the last.

“Need you to fill me, please fill me Balor.”

“Mmmph~ what-whatever my darling wishes~” Is all he can manage now, his skin slapping yours so loudly your happy you don’t have closer neighbors. Your muscles are still fluttering around his cock when he finally reaches his own climax with a soft groan before driving himself home and rutting in small movements inside your plush walls. He slumps over then, releasing your hair as his heads falls to rest on the back of your shoulder.

In the minutes afterwards,  still stuffed and catching your breathes, its like coming down from the sky. Your racing heart flutters back down to a normal pace, breath still a bit shaky put slowing as well. He rubs soothing circles in your hips with his thumbs before slowly leaning back up to appreciate the mess he made of your pussy. His seed spills form between your lips as he retreats

“Beautiful.” He murmurs softly, undoing the knot at your thighs and bringing circulation back to your lower extremities. Then your arms, helping you to bring them forward again despite the ache and massaging the blood flow back into them. Once satisfied that you could lay more comfortably, he gently pulls the red cord from the many twists around your body till your freed from its constraints. The moment he does so, he climbs back onto the bed to wrap you back into his arms where you melt into a relaxed puddle within them. A soft little nest made of your favorite ex-rogue.

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate. 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,317

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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

Part 1: Hopeless

It was a frigid, cold winter day in Velaris. Growing up in the beautiful town of night and stars, you were accustomed to the changing seasons but hated winter the most. As you stood in the back of the clinic, warming your hands by the fireplace, you heard the front door swing open; the bells hung on the back of the door knocking against each other violently. “Madja, please, I need your help,” a deep, rich voice echoed throughout the clinic. A voice you had never heard before, but laced with concern and panic, you couldn’t help but creep behind one of the bookshelves and pretend to stay busy as you eavesdropped on the conversation.

“She won’t be able to pass him naturally. I’ve spent every single day over the past few weeks trying to find a solution, but I can’t find a way out of this. Please, Madja. I need something. I need some kind of hope or some answer. There has to be some option.” Grabbing a few books to reshelve, you turned a corner, and your knees almost buckled on themselves.

Standing at the front of the clinic with his hands on Madja’s shoulders was none other than Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. You immediately recognized his blazing purple eyes, the power thrumming from him and into your very bones. You weren’t one to be easily intimidated, so you kept your focus on the books in your hands and began reshelving. Madja looked over her shoulder, trying to get your attention, but you ignored her. She knew you didn’t like people knowing about your powers, even if it was the High Lord. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I am out of ideas and don’t know what else to do. Y/N and I will do some more research tonight, but I can’t promise anything. We’ve already looked through all our books, but we will look once more. I will try my best, but the High Lady needs you now more than ever; please, go attend to her, and we will try to figure something out.” Rhysand held his stare but finally nodded, disappointment and sadness apparent in those beautiful violet eyes. He stalked out of the clinic, and Madja quickly locked the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” you asked, trying to sound as uninterested and nonchalant as possible, like it was anyone other than the High Lord who just blasted through the front door.

“The High Lady is pregnant. She was in her Illyrian form when her child was formed, and I went to see her a few weeks ago to check on the child. He has wings.”

You didn’t need more information to determine how dangerous the High Lady’s pregnancy was.

“I know you don’t want anyone to know about your gift, but you saw how distraught Rhysand was. I’ve been taking care of him and his brothers for centuries. It would mean a lot to me if you would just consider helping him and Feyre. They would be eternally grateful.” Madja’s words hung in the silent air, and her pleading gaze meant she wanted an answer sooner rather than later.

“I’ll think about it tonight. I can’t promise anything, but… he did seem really worried. I can’t imagine what he must be going through. I’ll have an answer for you by the morning.”

Madja left, and you stayed back to finish cleaning up. Again the front door swung wide open. You jumped and let out a scream, shaken out of your thoughts of the High Lord and Lady. Turning around with the broom in your hand, you took a defensive stance, only to face Rhysand. His raven black hair was ruffled, wings spread out, and violet eyes burning into your own. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, so you decided to break the silence.

“I was just--” he started. “Madja isn’t here; she left a while ago,” you sputtered out at the same time as him.

Rhys walked over to you, keeping a few paces in between the both of you. “My apologies. I’m Rhysand,” he said, offering a gentle smile and his hand.

“Lord Rhysand, I’m Y/N.”

“Please, call me Rhys. Are you a friend of Madja’s? I’ve never seen you around before.” Appreciating his calm demeanor, you replied, “Yes, I’ve known of Madja for quite some time. I was born and raised in Velaris, actually. I’ve been interested in healing and her knowledge of medicine, so I started as an apprentice here last summer and have been working with her since then. I overheard your conversation earlier; I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is the High Lady doing alright?”

His smile quickly vanished, replaced with a frown and furrowed brows. “Feyre is…I’m scared.” The concern and fear in his eyes returned. “She doesn’t know, but she won’t be able to pass the baby naturally with its wings. Madja says there’s nothing she can do for her. Shifting into her Illyrian form is too risky, and Madja doesn’t know how to cut into her belly without risking either of their lives. I’m hopeless,” he finished, unknowingly pacing around the room. Madja’s request from earlier still rang in your ears. You had said that you would have an answer for her by the morning, but Rhysand’s words tore at your heart. You didn’t want anyone to know about your surgical knowledge or healing powers, but you empathized with his feeling of helplessness.

Half human and half fae, you had spent years studying in the human realms before even approaching Madja, learning about surgical techniques and spending countless hours operating on cadavers that people had offered once they passed. You were forever grateful for their sacrifice long after they were gone; without them, you wouldn’t have mastered the skills you were now equipped with. You had never performed an actual surgery, let alone on a fae. Another reason you didn’t want Madja telling people of your skills-- you weren’t confident enough yet to go through with them. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” Rhys’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, sorry. Everything is okay; I think maybe more than okay.” A grin slowly etched your face, and Rhys’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I want to be honest, but I don’t want to get your hopes up, Rhys. Nobody knows this except Madja, so I would appreciate your discretion. I studied surgical techniques for years in the human realms. My mother was human and passed away years ago after an accident. She needed a surgeon, but there were none easily accessible to us. After she passed, I promised to learn as much as I could. I’ve worked on cadavers before and am very familiar with pregnant females, but I’ve never performed surgery before, and I’m not 100% confident in my abilities. If you and Feyre want to take the chance, I would be more than willing to perform Feyre’s surgery. I know this is a big decision and not something to take lightly, but Madja told me there are not many options. Please take all the time you need and talk it over with her.”

A tear slipped out of Rhys’s eyes, and he rushed over to grab your shoulders, just like he had with Madja. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me with this information. Let me talk to Feyre and see what she says. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning to let you know, but I think this will be our best bet. Thank you.”  

Rhys rushed out of the clinic. You didn’t realize how tightly you had been gripping the broom this entire time, and your jaw was clenched so tight that an ache seared through your teeth. What did I just get myself into, you thought to yourself as you locked the clinic door behind you and walked back home.

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

[alastor-simp-page]

The Deal/Chains Prompt Charlastor - A little peek

I feel so bad. I wasn't able to finish it in time but I gotta put something out. I'm scrambling to finish it. Yippee! It's definitely interesting...I'm trying out a new writing style.

They're a bit OOC but I was inspired. And well, you all voted for Charlie owning Alastor's soul so that's what I'm trying to craft. This is for sure steering into dubious territory.

You walked into the room as anyone does. With such a simple action as that, I can glean enough information to know what I’m walking into. Gait, pace, smile or lack of, the way your chest rises and falls. Your eyes looked everywhere but me. Curious. You were the one to ask for me after all. And here you were, rubbing your bare arm and practically stumbling over your feet. 

Wearing a dress shirt with suspenders? Quite a curious thing for a lady of your stature. The way your hair falls over your shoulder tells me you had your nails digging into your scalp not even seconds ago. 

I suppose being the Princess of Hell was no small feat. And meeting the Radio Demon? No wonder you’re a wreck. A beautiful mess if that’s what I could call you? 

I stand, as it's the gentlemanly thing to do and put my arm out for you. I grin, “Why, hello there, darling. You must be Princess Charlotte! Correct?” You simply smile up at me, that sort of nervous one where the smile doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

“Yep, yep!” You say and quickly take my hand. Your hand is soft and warm, something that would melt in my grip if I grasped it too long. You let go far too soon, letting my hand fall back to my side. “But I go by Charlie. Just Charlie now,” You insist. I arch a brow. A name either meant to deny her parents wishes or to establish some sort of dominance in the hierarchy with a male name. I don’t pry, it's rude, after all! 

The fire in the fireplace roars in agony, tinting your blonde waves in a crimson glow, the same hue of those naive eyes. “So…um,” You kick your feet, something to distract you from your words. I understand, darling. My finger swirls around the sphere of my radio cane. An unfortunate habit I’ve contracted. “My Dad set up this meeting and well, I’m sure you know what it's about, right?”

Not simply your Dad…the King of Hell, the Little Guy downstairs as those upstairs liked to call him. Of course, I knew what it was about. It didn’t take a genius to ask around with that ever so charming (and sinister) smile of mine. Your little passion project: that ridiculous hotel. Redeeming the damned! There’s a reason why Purgatory was disbanded. 

I decided not to tell you that. See if you slip up or leave a few details out. I’m sure you will or you may blabber on for an eternity. “No, I have not, Charlie” is what I answered. 

You let out a little squeal and start pawing through your bag. Oh dear, this may have been a mistake. My ears perk up at that sound unwillingly, those blasted things. However that little squeal, that little sound, it's so enticing. I wonder how many sounds I can entice out of you by the time I’m done with you? Don’t you think so, dear Charlie? Make you scream? Cry? Moan my name? 

No, no, no. I’m getting quite too far ahead of myself. I haven’t even seen what you want. What our relationship pans out to be! Hah! Not that it isn’t hard to guess: help. Something a darling little damsel in distress needs I suppose?

You started to ramble on, “So…the Happy Hotel is all about redeeming sinners and I really…” I’m half listening to you. The rest of my senses devoted to the way you practically danced as you talked. The way you swirled and twirled, gripping the papers in your grasp, pictures drawn from the likes of a 4 year old high on Coca-Cola. It was your drawings, I knew, crudely crafted and having the right to be hung in a modern art museum. Still adorable nonetheless. 

However I’m sure no drawings, no art pieces, and no paintings could ever fully illustrate you. The artist would never pick the right color for the rose of your cheeks nor capture the flow of your hair. And certainly never capture that bubble of happiness you became. 

You cared. Care, love, cherish, what alien words in a world such as Hell. And no more, the daughter of Sin itself. Spawn of the Devil and of the treacherous first woman: Lilith. You wanted to help sinners. The worst of the worst. It was almost laughable, downright absurd. You? Daughter of the deviled goat man who offered the apple. Leading to sin taking a hold of the world? Guilt must be gnawing at your soul, the weight of your father’s actions falling onto your shoulders, the burden of family. Or simply because you cared? Because you wanted to help the worst of the worst have a chance to knock on the pearly gates? You’re a strange one, dear.

“So! What do you think, Alastor,” You ask. My name rolls off your tongue like it's etched there, like it belongs there. I rather like it.

I roll back my shoulders, hands twisting my bowtie into place. “It doesn’t matter what I think, dear.” It truly doesn’t. “Your father asked me to offer my services to you. So…do you require them?” Please say you do. 

That bubbly demeanor of yours drops and flips your smile into a frown. “Well, I need to know if you believe in me or not.” You say. Fair enough.

I stand and cross around the coffee table. Your crimson eyes widen at the movement. I aim to surprise, I suppose. I plop myself down beside you and you simply stare at me, shifting an inch. There’s no need to be afraid of me, darling. Well, I suppose it's fair.  

“Darling, what I’ve seen so far is a woman who deeply believes in her dream.” I mince my words, cutting them up in tasty pieces for you to devour. “There’s nothing more powerful than a person who cares. Truly cares about their cause. About their passion. And you seem to do just that.” I tap you on the shoulder. A small touch, nothing too much from stranger to stranger. I can see you’re listening, intently. Oh, you poor dear. Your eyes are wide, surprised. Has no one believed in you before? “Of course, I believe in you, Charlie!” I land it home, driving the stake in deep.

Oh, I can just see it through your glass porcelain face. You want someone to believe in you, don’t you? The way your rosy cheeks deepen in color tells me all I need. Hah, you’re desperate, aren’t you? Letting the Radio Demon of all people to encourage you?

“Thanks…” you say sheepishly. You’re bursting with joy. I know you are. You’re simply too ashamed to admit it. I can see it in the way you shift, look away, and how your chest heaves. You’re excited. Someone! Finally someone! You must think. 

“Again, I’ll offer my services again. Your father wanted you to meet with me for…well, my popularity with my radio station, correct? Get the word out to folks?” I tell you. It is what your father had told me quite stiffly. I guess it must have been your idea, no doubt. 

You rub your neck. You’re…unsure? I tilt my head. What are you about to do, dear? “Well, I said that at first but meeting you…I have a different idea.” I grin. You’re an interesting gal, aren’t you? Changing things up? Perhaps you’re less predictable than I previously thought.

“And what is that?” I lean in close and you lean away. My, my, my, you’re still a skittery little thing, aren’t you, darling? 

“I think you’re a nice guy but my Dad doesn’t really like you at all. And well, he only trusts someone if they're on a leash,” You say. Oh dear. This is going in a direction that I would not go in. A leash? That only meant one thing and it wasn’t something I was willing to bargain for today.

“You are aware there’s little trust if one must be put on a leash for there to be trust,” I say. It’s true. A leash is a walking prison. Move from place to place, try as you will to stretch it and it will still yank you back.

You murmur to yourself, “I know…” However your eyes sparkle. “But I think you’re going to like my offer! A deal if you will!”

Deal? Now that’s what I wanted to hear! My specialty! My hands weave together, cracking a knuckle one by one. You stare. You’re unsure. That seems to be a theme which always etches your face. The way your eyes crinkle and how your lips twitch. 

I have you just where I want you. I stab my cane into the floor, you flinch, and I rub my digit on the sphere where my good old mic blinks idly. “So, what are your terms, dear?” Words I plan to switch into: what are my terms. 

Something flashes within your crimson eyes. Something beyond that naive little princess you are. I couldn’t catch it in time, it slipped just as quickly from my grasp. What was that? Perhaps nothing. I hope nothing.

You stare back. I can feel the pressure of your gaze seemingly pressing into the space between my eyes like the cold barrel of a rifle. You’re getting bolder by the minute aren’t you? You clear your throat and fold your hands neatly in your lap. How princess-y of you.

“My terms are that…” Your eyes dart away. Good. You’re nervous again. Just how I like you. “...you can assist me on a much more personal level if…” Well, go on! I’m listening, darling! We may have all eternity but all this stalling is getting rather out of hand. “...my Dad said I can only make you my hotelier if I own your soul,” You say.

(Subject to change)

[nocasdatsgay]

From the Shadows the Beast Will Rise Chapter 3

Word Count: 3006 | Rating: E🌶️ | Warnings: Sex, Gay Enemy Panic

Fic Summary: Months after that one encounter, Eris receives demand for a response to his summons to visit the Night Court. He ends up with warning for the future and a certain shadowsinger back under his skin.

Ch. Summary: Eris is angry so the shadows intervene. Alternatively: Azriel finally has enough and fucks Eris.

Read here on AO3 | Previous Chapter| Masterlist

A/N: POV breaks at the ***

- Two Weeks Later-

After a visit to the Human Lands, instead of returning home, Eris went to his cabin. He tossed the sealed letter on his sitting room table and immediately started blasting fire into the fireplace until all the contents within were ash. Then he started to pace, tossing fire balls when his anger would well up inside him and need an escape. 

Helion figured it out. 

He knew this would happen. He knew Lucien would cave if he was asked. And Rhysand and Feyre admitting they knew as well? If Eris had the means he would start a war with the Night Court right then. He was even tempted to burn the letter. A letter from Helion to their mother, pressed with a Day Court seal. Eris couldn’t risk bringing that letter anywhere near the Forest House. If Beron knew Helion had been told, their mother would die. 

Eris was so angry he didn’t even notice the shadows swirling around his ankles as he paced. Nor did he notice them slip off and away. He did notice the wards trip and the smell of winter evergreen started to fill the air. 

He let out an undignified growl. “For once can you knock? Send a letter? Some kind of warning.” 

Darkness manifested in his sitting room. Azriel stood there scowling and his shadows slipped away. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It took all of Eris’s will to not let his magic run wild on his arms. “You showing up unannounced is what is wrong.”

“I meant with you.” Azriel crossed his arms but let his wings stay relaxed and open. 

Eris narrowed his gaze and balled his fists. He cut to glare at his shadows. “What did they tell you? Don't you have actual enemies to spy on?” 

“That you were blasting fire balls into the fireplace and stomping in circles.”

“Better than blasting them at someone else.” 

He watched a shadow swirl around Azriel’s ear. Azriel’s gaze dropped to the letter on the table. 

“Lucien is capable of taking care of himself.” 

“He is still my brother.” Fire welled inside Eris but he tampered it down. 

“I didn’t think you cared.” 

“I care when it puts our mother’s life at risk.” Eris clamped his jaw shut. He said too much already. He shot another glare at Azriel. “How did you get past these wards?” 

His hazel eyes scanned the room and he tucked his wings in tight. As if he realized he didn’t recognize where he was. Eris allowed himself to run his own eyes over Azriel’s body. He could curse the Mother herself for making him so attractive. Also for making Eris like males, but it was easier to take offense of Azriel’s beauty than with his own feelings. When Azriel looked back to him, Eris brought back his own gaze. Another shadow was swirling around his ear. 

“I wasn’t aware you had your own cabin.”

Eris scoffed. “Some spymaster you are.” 

“Why is it spelled?” Azriel tilted his head. “You bring lovers here and when they leave, they don’t remember this place.”

“Why do I bother doing half of what I do?” Of course those pesky shadows told him that as well. He needed to look in the archives and see if there was a way to keep shadows from telling his secrets. “I cannot afford my means of stress relief to hold it against me.” 

“Is that all they are to you?” 

Eris raised a brow. “Why would they be anything else? Now, can you leave me in peace?”

Az stood there, frowning as the shadows swirled around him. Like they were agitated. Eris tilted his head slightly, waiting. Finally Azriel’s wings slumped slightly. 

“They won’t let me leave.” 

Eris, for the first time in a long time, laughed. “They won’t let you leave?” He’d never heard something so absurd. 

Az crossed his arms and he scowled at his shadows as he followed them with his gaze. “They won’t let me leave until you’ve calmed down.” 

Eris froze where he stood, a cold wave washing over him. That was the second time Azriel had told him his shadows were more sentient than Eris thought they could be. It unnerved him. He eyed the shadows around Azriel. 

“Can you not control them?” He asked. “You’re a shadowsinger.”

“I’m not singing in front of you.” Azriel looked away. 

Eris could kick him out. Force him with magic. Something told him those pesky shadows would just bring him back. Eris relaxed a little bit and decided to give Azriel some pity. 

“Come, have a drink with me.” 

Eris walked past him into the kitchen. He pulled out fire whiskey out of the icebox and two glasses from the cabinet. He heard Az’s boots on the hardwood floor as he walked up behind him. 

Az cleared his throat. “How often do you come here?” 

“Not as often as I used to,” he replied honestly as he poured their drinks. “It's difficult to find time for myself when there are two wars back to back.”

“No one has gone to war yet.” 

“Yet.” He turned and handed Az his glass. “War is coming. We both know it. Don't your shadows tell you everything?”

“Not everything,” he muttered and took a swing. Eris watched him with slight amusement as he coughed. “What hell is this shit?” 

“Fire whiskey,” Eris grinned and took a sip of his own drink. “You drink it slowly. Lessens the burn.” 

Az coughed again. “You could have fucking warned me.” 

“Now you know how I feel.” 

He took another sip, savoring the smokey flavor while Azriel got his wits together. To his surprise, once Azriel stopped coughing, he stared at Eris and downed the whole drink. Eris could only stare back at him while he reigned in his sudden arousal. Of course the brute would have the nerve to down a whole shot like it was nothing. He watched Az’s wings splay open, crowding Eris where he leaned against the counter top. 

He downed the rest of his own drink, wincing and sat the glass behind him. Azriel stepped closer; Eris held his breath as he too sat his glass down, reaching around Eris and crowding him further. 

“Tell me,” Azriel’s voice was low and it shot a jolt through Eris’s body. “Do you take your lovers?” Azriel’s eyes dropped down to Eris’s shirt opening, where a rough finger traced his along his neck. “Or do they take you?” 

“I do not let males fuck me like a lowly bitch.”

He was so close, smothering him with his scent. Azriel leaned into his ear. 

“My shadows say you lie.” 

Eris’s traitorous body; his pants were too tight and he knew his smell was getting away from him. The only thing that calmed him was it seemed Azriel too, was feeling it. Az pulled back and Eris stared into those hazel eyes. He couldn’t tell if Azriel leaned in first or if Eris himself did. 

He had always wondered what it meant, when those stupid romance novels the females gossiped over talked about “tongues fighting for dominance”. In this moment, with teeth clashing and lips quickly bruising, he understood it. One of them would lose this fight. He knew deep down it would probably be himself. 

He’d been fucked by males but never a lesser fae. As if the difference made it any better. He could blame the alcohol. Az’s mouth dragged down to his neck and all his reservations were gone- he wanted Azriel and he wanted him now . He winnowed them to the bedchamber. Azriel didn’t even flinch, shoving Eris onto the bed. They both kicked off their shoes and Eris moved back to the middle and Azriel followed him. 

“Tell me you want this.” Az said, wings on full display. Eris wondered if Az would let him touch them. 

“I didn’t think Illyrians cared this much about consent.” Azriel crowded him and Eris felt his mouth water. 

“It’s more about hearing you admit you want a lesser fae. Consent is a perk. Again; tell me you want this.” 

Eris felt himself flush. “I want it.” 

“What exactly do you want?”

Eris growled deep. He felt something cold wrap around his wrists- shadows. They pulled his hands and arms up, pinning them down above his head. 

“So you do use them during sex. Nasty little things.” 

“They’re an extension of me. They know what I like.”  

Eris filed that thought away to process later. “I want you to fuck me, Azriel. I don’t care how you do it.” 

“You’ll regret that,” Azriel grinned.

***

“Don’t be afraid,” a shadow whispered in Azriel’s ear. 

But Azriel was afraid. The things he wanted to do to this male laying under him held no logic in his brain. But he could visit all the pleasure houses in Prythian and still not scratch the current itch under his skin. Watching him in the kitchen, something about that smug bastard flipped something in his mind. Now they were in his bed and Azriel was freezing up. 

Shadows swirled around his own hands, nudging them down. It was just sex; and if anything he could hold this over Eris’s head for the rest of their lives. Az ignored the part of him that whispered he wouldn’t do that. Instead he came back to himself and undid Eris’s trousers. The shadows on his hands left and Az pulled out Eris’s cock, stroking it. 

“Fuck,” Eris gasped. 

Az wanted to hear that again. He pulled those trousers fully off and tossed them off the bed. He ran his hands up Eris’s thighs. The last time, Az didn’t notice the light dusting of auburn hair on his legs and the trail that led down from under his shirt to his cock. He kept his comments to himself. 

Az slipped and settled down between Eris’s legs. If he had questions about what Azriel was planning, he didn’t voice them. Az licked up Eris’s length and he swore he could see the heir’s eyes flutter even from his current angle. Shadows wrapped around Eris’s legs to hold him and Az took him in one swallow down his throat. 

“By the gods ,” Eris hissed above him. 

He blamed the whiskey for the warmth that spread in his chest as he slowly pulled back. He kept the head in his mouth and swirled his tongue. Eris let out the softest whine and Az wanted to flip him over right then and take him. Prep or not. 

Do not hurt him. 

A shadow nudged him slightly. He pulled back, letting his mouth pop as he looked for the shadow that said that. Instead his eyes landed on the small corked vial laying on the duvet. 

This is just sex. He told himself more than his shadows. Stop making me think. 

We do not harm what is ours.  

Az tried not to roll his eyes. Instead he looked at Eris. “How do you want it?” 

Blown amber eyes trailed over to the vial in Az’s hand. “I heard Illriyans fuck their whores from behind.” 

He tilted his head, his hair falling over his eyes. “Calling yourself a whore, Eris?”

Before he could respond, shadows wrapped themselves over his mouth. His eyes widened and panic laced his scent. Even Azriel was shocked. 

Tell him to not be rude and we will let him speak. 

What did he plan to say ? 

Something vulgar about lesser females. 

“I have no issue leaving you here, Vanserra. Be nice.” 

Eris rolled his eyes but he must have taken the hint, as the shadows left his mouth. Az tilted his head again, raising his brows. He still needed an answer. 

“I don’t care how you fuck me, you brute. I don’t want to think.” 

Az squinted down at him. “I think I’ll keep you like this. So you can’t deny that it was me.” 

That’s what he wants . 

Good because that’s what he’s getting. 

He didn’t question where his shadows got the vial. He knew it was oil; he popped the cork off of it and poured it on his fingers. Eris watched him silently; Az didn’t think his eyes could get anymore blown but the amber in them was nearly gone. 

“You want it that bad, Vanserra?” 

Eris blinked. “Don’t call me that when you’ve had your mouth on my cock and I am bound in your shadows.” 

“Do you want it that bad, Eris?” Azriel repeated condescendingly. 

“Yes.” 

Eris said it so softly Azriel almost didn’t hear him. He ignored the way it tugged something deep inside him. Instead he brought an oiled finger down between Eris’s legs. He searched for a sign- a hesitation that maybe this was not what he wanted. Instead Eris sighed, relaxing below him as his finger traced around his hole, smearing the oil. After a few moments, Eris shifted on the bed. 

“Don’t make me beg,” Eris whispered. “Not this time.” 

It was surreal seeing Eris like this. Vulnerable was what Az would call it if he believed Eris could be such a thing. He pushed in a finger and all Eris gave him was a sigh. They fell silent while Az worked him open, pushing in more fingers. The shadows undid Eris’s shirt for him, before they came and snapped off Az’s own leathers. 

Eris snapped suddenly at him. “Do you know what you’re doing or are you stalling?” 

“If you’re about to come from just my fingers, you could just say that.” He replied back. 

Az pulled his hand back and Eris had the audacity to whine. He sat back and pushed off his pants. It was easier to ignore his own cock when it was confined. Having his leathers roll off of it had him biting back his own noises. He took a deep breath once he kicked off the pants and stroked himself with his oiled hand.  

“Last chance.” 

Eris rolled his eyes but didn’t reply. Azriel pretended to consider if he actually wanted to go through with this. 

Take him, he is ours, a shadow whispered. 

Last time I checked, I was in charge . 

Az ignored the other shadows and crawled back over Eris. He decided Eris didn’t need a warning. He pushed into him quicker than he probably should have but Eris wasn’t protesting it. The moment he was fully sheathed in him, his shadows left Eris’s wrists. Hands grabbed at Azriel, pulling him down. Their lips crashed into each other. 

Just like earlier, their kissing was rough and by the cauldron did it fuel Azriel’s desire to fuck Eris into the mattress. He swore it was going to be over before it really started, the way Eris groaned into his mouth and Az couldn’t stop chasing how perfect he felt around him. One of Eris’s hands gripped into Azriel’s hair and pulled.

Az growled, pulled back and thrusted his hips harder. He braced himself with one hand on the bed and put the other around Eris’s neck. Az would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like how his hand looked wrapped around Eris’s neck. Azriel squeezed and Eris cursed under him. 

It was hard to tell which one of them came first. Azriel’s release barreled through him, his wings flaring out and head bowing as he groaned. Eris didn’t make a noise; his was more of a gasp and sigh Az felt under the grip of his hand. Despite his sensitivity quickly rising, Azriel kept going until he felt Eris stop pulsing around him. 

While they both caught their breath, the reality of what just happened sank in. Azriel had fucked Eris. Again . Properly this time. The haze he was under before quickly dissipated and he was off (and out) of Eris in a flash. Thankfully his shadows had nothing to say to him about it. Eris however did. 

“Not one for cuddles, shadowsinger?” Eris sat up. The red marks on his neck were quickly fading. He waved his hand and magic washed over Azriel; he’d rid them both of their mess. “Get dressed and get out of my face. That was the worst sex I’ve ever had.”

“You still came,” Azriel grumbled, pulling on his leathers. “On the cock of a lesser male.” 

“Because I wanted it to be over.” Eris said and made a rude gesture at him. 

Az half expected when Eris got off the bed, that he was going to physically fight him. Instead he snatched up his own trousers and yanked them up. Shadows flurried around him and he shooed them away. 

“How do you stand them? Always fluttering about.” 

Azriel didn’t answer him. 

He called his shadows and stepped out of Eris’s cabin and into his room at the River House. He smelled like Autumn and Eris and he wanted to bath and scrub every inch of himself raw until it was gone. His shadows knew he was in a foul mood. 

He was not angry at us . He was angry with himself.

“I don’t care,” Azriel muttered. 

Even with the knot in his stomach roaring at him to go back and fix it. Whatever it was. Azriel spent the next hour in the bath, hoping that by scrubbing the scent off him would scrub out the ache in his chest. 

***

When Azriel disappeared, Eris sat back on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing. He made an irreversible mistake letting that brute bed him. Azriel seemed to feel the same. Bruising a male’s ego was easy and Eris was not immune to it. So when Azriel responded with what looked like regret, Eris responded with his sharp tongue to chase him off and make him think what happened was nothing to him. 

Sighing, Eris got up and went to the bathing chamber. There was no way in the deep realms of hel he could leave smelling like the Night Court and its shadowsinger. He would bathe then he would figure out what to do with that letter haunting him from the sitting room. 

Next Chapter

[hard-boiled-criminal]

A Witch Adrift

Chapter 4 - There Should be a Word for the Specific Feeling of Uneasiness Caused by the Uncanny Valley Phenomenon

< Ch 3 | Ch 5 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

The next morning you’re woken up to the sound of Grim screaming. “The ghosts are back! Hey, (y/n), up and at ‘em!”

You slowly sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes to see Grim at the edge of the bed with his fur all puffed out, facing off against the same three ghosts from last night. ‘I swear to god if I’m gonna be woken up by a battle with these ghosts everyday, I’m gonna exorcise them myself.’ Not bothering to get out of bed, you simply pick Grim up once again and aim him at the, ironically, bone-thin ghost. “Grim, just use flamethrower.” 

A torrent of blue flames left Grim’s mouth, blasting the ghost dead-on. He didn’t even bother complaining about being commanded this time. Perhaps the ghosts were still worn out from the battle the previous night because it only took a few hits from Grim’s magic fire before they conceded. This time however, after defeating the ghosts, they stuck around. 

‘Of course you can’t exorcise ghosts with fire. Then again, this world doesn’t go by pokemon rules; at least, I don’t think it does… Maybe you need a psychic or something? If magic exists, then psychics should also exist, right?’ You sighed. Of course nothing was ever simple.

“So, I hear you’ll be living here from now on?” One of the ghosts spoke to you. “Hope you like pranks as much as we do! Hya ha ha!” With a laugh, the three ghosts faded out of sight, leaving only you and Grim in the room, wide awake.

“We gotta get rid of those things for good!” Grim complained, clearly unhappy with being scared awake, as would anyone.

You mumbled an agreement as you slid out of bed and set Grim down on the ground. You winced as you stood up, a horrible pain shooting through your feet and legs. You took a moment to take in your appearance staring back at you from the mirror above the fireplace. You looked just as bad as you felt. For the first time you were actually taking in just how disheveled you were. You had soot and dirt smeared across your face and clothes, the odd leaf or blade of grass in various places. You were still wearing the ceremonial clothes from yesterday; the hem of the robe was torn, frayed, and singed, speckled with small holes where the fire had completely burned through. Your pants, on the other hand, were much worse off, thoroughly burnt, with most of the cloth below the knee completely gone, the remaining parts stuck to your shins. Now, you could see the extent of your injuries.

Physically, you felt so much worse this morning than last night, probably since  the adrenaline was temporarily numbing the pain yesterday. You grimaced upon seeing the ugly sight of your abused legs, the skin of your shins not covered in stuck fabric were littered with first and second degree burns. Luckily, you weren’t standing in Grim’s fire long enough to get any third-degree burns. It seems that magically produced fire doesn’t need to reach extremely high temperatures to turn blue–probably the only reason you weren’t practically burned alive. Your hands didn’t make it out scott-free either. Your palms were rubbed raw in places from when you made the poor choice to try out parkour, not to mention the prevalent ache in both your shoulders. Perhaps you should have asked Crowley for some bandages.

You reach down to peel the pants away from your shins, the texture of the burnt fabric irritating your skin. You grab at the burnt end of a piece and begin to pull but flinch back at the sharp pain. You stared at the cloth, eyes wide and perturbed. The pants were synthetic or semi-synthetic. The fire had made patches of the fabric melt and fuse with your skin. There was no way you were going to be able to remove all the fabric without severely hurting yourself and permanently scarring your legs. Luckily, it wasn’t the entirety of that pants that melted, only coin-sized chunks scattered around the circumference of your lower left leg. You stand up, close your eyes, and take a breath. Lips pursed, you slightly open your eyes, head tilted back to face the ceiling. 

“Congratulations, me, for doing such a good job at taking care of ourselves… We really should’ve paid more attention to ourselves and asked Crowley for immediate medical attention last night.”

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Speak of the devil, Crowley just walked into your room. You don’t know how he figured out which room you were in, but you were going to assume it was because of magic. “Did you sleep well?”

Seeing as you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, you’d say you slept reasonably well, all things considered, but now wasn’t the time for that. About to say as such and bring up your need for medical attention, Grim answered before you could  speak, “Not at all! When I sprawled out on the bed, the mattress fell right through the frame!” Grim was bristling. “Exactly how ramshackle is this dorm? And worse yet, we got woken up by ghosts!”

Crowley looked from Grim to you, seemingly to ask if this cat was simply being dramatic. You shrugged, “I mean, he’s not wrong, but also–”

“Well, I suppose this dorm is a little run down, but nothing a little elbow grease cannot fix, I’m sure!” Crowley didn’t allow you time to say anything as he promptly walked out the door. “Come along now, I’ve brought you breakfast and such.”

“A-ah, wait–” You quickly put your shoes back on, lest you risk stepping on the stray nail to add to your list of injuries, before you and Grim followed Crowley downstairs to the lounge, a single take-out box and can of tuna waiting on the coffee table. Grim’s eyes lit up, almost as bright as his ear flames, when he saw the tuna waiting for him. You tried to keep the grimace off your face with each step down the stairs you took, a spike of pain shooting through your legs with each one.

“Thank you, Mr. Crowley, but–”

“Tunaaa!!!” Grim leapt down half the flight of stairs in one jump, rushing to grab the tuna.

It was times like these that made him seem like a regular cat. A magical talking cat, yes, but still a cat nonetheless. Shaking your head in mirth, you continue, “Thank you, Mr. Crowley.”

“Think nothing of it, (y/n)-san,” Crowley said with what seemed like pride. “My, I truly am too kind.” You were sure that if he actually had feathers, they would all be puffed up.

Your eyes were honed in on the food on the table, your stomach rumbling at the thought of eating. Maybe it’d be fine to eat first. You slowly sat down on the striped couch, wincing at the short moment of increased stress on your legs. You relaxed again once all your weight was off your legs, a long breath of relief leaving your lungs, having not realized you had been holding your breath for a little while from the pain. Whether Crowley noticed or not, he kept silent as you began to eat your breakfast of a few simple pancakes and some syrup on the side if you so wished to have it. 

About halfway through, Crowley cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. He sat in a rocking chair that you hadn’t noticed before, placed on the opposite side of the coffee table. He held a decently sized cloth bag in his hands and set it down next to him.

“I have brought you a few sets of clothes, as well as other basic necessities, as you have requested.”

“Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Crowley,” you said after quickly swallowing your mouthful of food. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course. Now, about the contract. Seeing as classes won’t start for a few more days, how about we go to my office and meet with a few other teachers to draft up your contract? Or, perhaps we should visit the infirmary first,” Crowley glanced down at your legs.*

“Oh, okay,” You weren’t expecting him to take action so quickly, especially not bring up your abysmal state before you did; he seemed the type to put things off and push them onto other people for them to do instead. “Can I finish breakfast first?”

“Of course.”

Grim had already long finished his tuna before you polished off your own breakfast. Quietly thanking Crowley again with a nod, you picked up the bag and went back upstairs to the room you claimed. You placed the bag on your bed and carefully removed its contents. Crowley had provided you with three sets of clothes, which looked to be two school uniforms and a basic white t-shirt and track pants, complete with a set of coveralls. ‘I suppose it would make sense for the only clothes he had on hand to be school uniforms.’ Besides those, you found basic toiletries, a toothbrush and toothpaste, multiple pairs of socks, towels, and the like. You grabbed one of the uniforms, a towel, and the toiletries and walked down the hall to the dorm bathroom you had stumbled across last night when looking for a place to sleep. You placed your things down on the long bench across from the row of showers before heading over to start the water, hoping to give it a little time to warm up. Standing to the side to not get wet, you twisted the shower knob… Nothing. In case this one might have simply been a fluke, you tried the other showers, one by one, but to no avail. It seemed the dorm had no running water.

“Well, shit.”

You grabbed your things and went back to your room. Hoping that Crowley could take you to someplace else to shower (you didn’t expect him to know how to turn the water back on, so that option was out for now), you packed your items back into the now empty bag and headed back downstairs.

“Um, Mr. Crowley?” You quietly spoke from atop the stairs, drawing Crowley’s attention from the thick book he was flipping through.

“(Y/n)-san, why are you back so soon, and still not cleaned up?”

“Um, well, about that; it seems there’s no running water. There wouldn’t happen to be anywhere else I could shower, would there?” You asked sheepishly.

“Oh, I suppose that does make sense,” Crowley put his hand up to his chin and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, well, I suppose there is the gymnasium locker room. It’s a bit of a walk from here, but it will do. Now,” he stood up and magicked his book away to who knows where, “let us be off!”

You didn’t get the chance to look around last night, but now, in the daylight you could take in the campus as you followed Crowley. First you passed by what looked to be a botanical garden, enclosed within a giant glass dome. If you had time (and were injury-free), you’d love to walk around in it. Passing what you assumed was the tool and storage shed for the garden, you crossed a bridge across a small ravine with a river running through the bottom. You walked by a tall, curved wall; the only thing you could see past it was a small point, probably the top of whatever building the wall was protecting. Going up a steep flight of stairs, which wasn’t kind on your legs at all, you saw a clocktower, but turned left at a hairpin turn before reaching it. Going up one more flight of stairs, you passed one more building on your left before making it to Main Street, which was more than twice as wide as the paths you had been walking down up to this point. At the end of the street to the left was a large, elaborate metal gate, the main entrance to the campus, no doubt. To the right, you couldn’t see much, as the path curved and whatever was beyond was obscured by trees. Across from you, where Crowley was headed towards, was a fairly large building.

“This is the gymnasium,” Crowley spoke over his shoulder to you. “The locker rooms are only accessible from the inside, so do follow me.” He led you through the open interior of the gymnasium, showing you to a door on the right towards the back of the building. “Here we are. I shall be waiting out here for you, so do be quick,” he said as he ushered you towards the door.

“Okay, um, thank you. I’ll try to be quick,” you wasted no time and headed in, looking for the showers. Luckily, this locker room had separate shower stalls, all with walls and doors as opposed to just curtains, along with a decent amount of space. 

You hung your bag on one of the hooks against the wall by the door, far enough away from the showerhead to keep from being wet. You placed your toiletries atop the small bench on the wall to your right. Now you had only to undress yourself. You slowly and carefully peeled off your clothes, starting with the robe, which slid off your shoulders quite easily. You placed it on the bench next to your soaps; it would probably get wet, but it was ruined anyway, so there wasn’t much point in trying to keep it safe. Plus, you weren’t about to stuff it in the bag with your clean clothes. You then carefully removed your upper garments, of which the only problem you had was the slight pain in your shoulders. You could now see your stomach, where a dark bruise spanning the width of your midriff had formed. Your shoes and socks were next: you wrapped the shirt and socks with the robe on the bench, but the shoes were placed against the wall under your bag. 

And now the part you were dreading the most. You hadn’t checked if your burned pants had fused with your thighs earlier, whether by blood or by heat, and you wouldn’t know until you removed them. You were in the clear until you reached the end of the pant legs, the parts that had been burned the most, as you had noticed earlier that morning. Unfortunately, if you didn’t want to hurt yourself more, you’d have to rip the cloth apart, leaving the parts fused to your skin alone. You undressed yourself as much as you could, leaving only the left pant leg on before you sat on the bench and began your work, carefully ripping around your injuries as best as possible. It took a good few minutes, but you were now left with a few scraps of cloth stuck to your leg.

“Now, that that’s taken care of,” you stood up, heading towards the shower knob, “let’s see… I’m pretty sure that in the case of burns you’re supposed to only use cool water…great.”

You turned the knob and, unlike at your dorm, the water came rushing out from the head right away. Staying out of the stream, you held your hand under the water and adjusted the temperature to be a bit cooler than room temperature. Reluctantly, you stepped under the water, hissing through clenched teeth in both shock from the temperature and from the discomfort of it no-quite-gently pelting against your wounds. Going through a basic shower routine, the first thing to actually give you a sense of familiarity in this place, you made sure to gently and carefully wash your burns, not exactly sure how to treat them. Even with how light you kept your touch, each brush of your fingers against the burns and blisters hurt, making you clench your jaw tightly every time.

Keeping the shower quick, you hurried to dry off, save for your legs (you didn’t want to touch your worst burns any more than necessary), you dressed in the fresh uniform, rolling the pant legs up to above your knees. The only part of your previous clothes that you wore were the shoes, everything else now being placed in the bag alongside your towel and soaps.

Hefting your bag onto your non-dominant shoulder, you headed out of the showers, glancing at your reflection in one of the mirrors on the way out. You still looked exhausted and a bit gaunt, but all the soot and grime was gone now. Deeming your appearance good enough, you exited the locker room and saw Crowley sitting on a chair–you don’t know where he got that from as it certainly wasn’t there before–and reading the same book he had at the dorm. Upon hearing the door open he looked up at you, his gaze lingering on your legs.

“Hmm, yes, a trip to the infirmary is most definitely in order,” he nodded to himself and stood up, the book disappearing once again and the chair floating across the gym, presumably to wherever he got it from. “Let us not delay any longer.”

Silent, you followed him back out to mainstreet, this time going up the path towards the huge castle that you were most likely in yesterday. As you walked you made note of a seemingly unnecessary archway standing above a branching path to the left that looked like it led to a tower and a coliseum.

 And then you saw them: Seven statues, all on pedestals. From a distance, you couldn’t make out the figures, and you weren’t expecting to recognize them once closer. 

But you did.

“Oh, you must be wondering about these statues, yes?” Crowley asked you, having caught you looking at them with wide eyes. “These are the Great Seven, the most influential and powerful figures throughout history. How about I regale you with their stories as we walk? Hmm?”

“Oh, no need,” you dismissed. “I think I already have a pretty good idea of who they are.” ‘I can’t believe Disney managed to branch their franchise across time and space. How does one even attempt to do that?’

“Shall we start with–wait, what do you mean ‘you already have a good idea?’” Crowley was about to start a story but quickly doubled back in disbelief at your response. “How could you already know? Did you not say that you are not from this world?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know how this is possible, but these figures are all characters from a movie franchise back in my world,” you explained. ‘Wait, should I have said that? Well, I hope this information doesn’t snowball into something with dire consequences, like breaking the time-space continuum, but it’s too late now…  I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

“Well, that is quite interesting, even if unexpected. Perhaps their stories were transported into your world, just as you were to ours,” Crowley’s thoughts slipped out from his mouth; perhaps this man had little more going on in his brain than you initially thought.

“I do have one question though.”

“Yes? And what would that be?”

“Why do the plaques say their titles, but not their names?”

A moment of silence passes. Afraid you said something wrong or offensive, you opened your mouth to apologize, but Crowley broke the silence first.

“Come again?” Crowley looked shocked, or at least as shocked as he could with his mask on.

Now feeling perturbed yourself, you hesitantly repeat your question. A quiet uneasiness spreads through your body at the silence that follows once more.

 “Did I…did I say something wrong?” you meekly asked.

“Hmm, what? Oh, oh no, not at all,” Crowley assuaged your concern. “To answer your question though, we use their titles out of respect for them and their deeds and accomplishments, “Crowley explained quickly. “Now, no more time for dilly-dallying; we must be off.” With a swish of his coat, Crowley started back on the path towards the castle. “Hmm, yes, I’ll have to discuss this with…” Crowley mumbled, his voice getting too quiet to make out his words at the end.

The feeling of a specific kind of uneasiness, almost the same kind you get from things with an uncanny valley feeling, welled up inside you. The feeling that something isn’t quite right. Whatever you said affected Crowley for reasons unknown to you. At that moment, you felt as if you had made an irreversible decision, one that would forever change the course of your life here.

A/N: Heyyyy, so, long time no see. As of 9/22/23, I’ve edited the previous chapters and changed some very minor details and such, so it’ll hopefully read better now. If you began reading this fic after said date, then ignore that; you’ve already read the edited version. For the people who have continued to comment on my work, I wanna say thank you. Your kind words motivate me much more than you can imagine. I’ve written out the outlines for the next chapter or two or three, depending on if I decide to merge them or not, so hopefully I’ll get those done soon. 

*I’m changing the timeline a wee bit to make room because with all the extra stuff I put in, cramming it all into one day was just unreasonable. Also, what kind of school has orientation and move-in day the night before the first day of class? Especially if the students don’t even know what dorm they’re going into before orientation? Yes, there’s magic and stuff, but still.

Next Chapter >

[ithebookhoarder]

🎄 Spending Christmas at Wayne manor (The Bat!Fam x Reader)

A/N: I said I'd be back with more Christmas content. What can I say? It's a Christmas miracle ✨ Well, more like the fact that the Christmas holidays are the first chance I've had to really sit and force myself to finish the things I've had sitting in my drafts for MONTHS... Who knew being an adult could be so time consuming 😅

Masterlist

First of all, Christmas would be a big deal at Wayne Manor. 

Like, if you don’t think Bruce is making up for all those Christmases spent alone with Alfred as a child then you have got another thing coming. 

No matter what villain decides to try and ruin the holiday with another crazy scheme, he WILL be back in time to enjoy the holidays come hell or high water. 

It has led to some great shots on TV of the Joker sitting outside the GCPD come Christmas morning, wrapped ornately in a bow. 

Each of you would have a stocking over the fireplace in the main hall, even if you don’t celebrate the holiday. It’s more of a commemorative event in the Wayne family anyway, offering everyone a rare chance to act like a normal-ish family for once and having your name up amongst everyone else’s makes you feel oddly gooey and warm inside. 

As does the sight of the MASSIVE tree sitting in the main Hall, absolutely smothered in decorations.

It’s a weird tradition, but Bruce insists that the tree is gathered from the extensive grounds surrounding the house, as it was when he was a kid. 

He enjoys watching everyone pulling decorations from the box, allowing them each to buy a new one of their own to add to the collection. 

How Alfred manages to get the star on top astounds you, but you suspect Damian (the sneaky demon) had something to do with it. 

Which is odd, as Damian hates the holidays - or so he says. 

He even threatens to try and stab Jason when he tries to put him in an ugly Christmas sweater for the family Christmas card photo.   

Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love getting gifts. In fact, he tries to act aloof but you notice him smiling to himself later on, after he opens the gift you bought for him. 

“See Todd - my gift is the best. I told you they like me most!”

He’s also very proud to give you his gift in return, having prided himself on getting the one thing you most wanted after you briefly mentioned it months ago. 

“Unlike the others, I actually pay attention and remember things.” 

Like how he also remembers to avoid all the places Jason sneakily hid mistletoe in the hopes of catching people out at the holiday party. 

You are not so lucky. 

Speaking of, Jason would be banned from making drinks after his first round of egg-nog almost blinds you all.

“I’m simply putting the merry in merry Christmas!” He’d argue, but Bruce would simply glare and swipe the key to the liquor cabinet, grumbling about why he ever thought adopting annoying teenagers was a good idea. 

Alfred patiently tolerating carnage as you all try to help with baking holiday goods. Flying flour and slipping over egg yolks is practically a tradition by this point

However, you are all banned from the kitchen when it’s time for him to prepare Christmas dinner. It’s a military operation for this one man army, and you best believe he has everything broken down on a perfectly calculated schedule. 

Not even Bruce is brave enough to get in the butler’s way.

Meanwhile, Tim would be busting the festive tunes out, knowing which songs people really hate and making sure to blast them on repeat. 

He’s also the one trying to get you all to play a game or something, even if he full well knows Monopoly has been banned in this house for a reason. 

Dick ends up trying to be the peacemaker after world war three nearly breaks out after a rather heated round of charades. 

Thankfully, dinner would interrupt you all and peace would reign long enough for you all to devour the feast Alfred has put together.

You even hold it together long enough for Bruce to attempt his usual holiday toast, before he eventually gives up after being heckled one too many times. 

You then follow dinner with a movie marathon together, whilst Alfred insists on cleaning up after everyone. You have a usual list of movies that you all can agree on watching, cued up and ready to go. 

To be honest, it’s probably the best part of the day as everyone sits there, drowsy from a full belly, and laughing at some cheesy movie playing on the screen. 

It’s never a surprise that you all end up passing out later in the evening. In fact, Bruce and Alfred think it’s the most magical moment, watching you all asleep on one another (they have taken many a picture to treasure the rare moment)

They also tuck you all under blankets with a fond smile, before wishing you a very merry Christmas. 

[willtheweaver]

Echoing voice tag

Thanks for the tag @agirlandherquill this looks like a fun one

Rules: count the number of main characters in your WIP, then use a random number generator to find a page, pick a number, and rewrite it from the voice of one of your other characters-repeat this for the number of characters you have.

Let’s see… I have 7 named characters that I would consider the ‘main cast’ of A Feather in the Forest. So be it.

Randomly generated page: 60

Line: The youngsters were sitting close to the fireplace. Fen stepped close and tapped Ivy on the shoulder.

“Hey, I need to tell you all something.”

Rewrite: The fire felt good. The last few nights were each progressively colder. Ivy sat closest to the hearth. She suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Fen, looking all serious.

“Hey, I need to tell you all something.” His voice sounded serious.

Randomly generated page: 1

Line: The two made a thorough sweep, searching for any sign of what happened… Volt was poking at still smoldering piles of debris with his bow. He had finished searching the eastern side when Sorrel called out from the opposite end.

Rewrite: The two decided to split up and search opposite ends of the camp. Volt rushed to the eastern end. Sorrel the west. Most of what she could find were ash and unrecognizable heaps of rubble. But one lean-to was mostly intact, even though it had collapsed. Sorrel lifted a beam, and found something underneath. Something out of the ordinary. She needed to get Volt’s attention.

Randomly generated page: 36

Line- Fen excused himself and went away from the camp…He was so deep in thought that he almost didn’t hear Ivy’s footsteps.

“Ah! Wait a moment—I don’t have anything on!”

Rewrite- Fen had gone off to get some fresh air. It had been a while since he left, so Ivy decided to go looking for him. She tread lightly, but apparently she made enough noise to be heard for Fen’s voice came suddenly from one of the bushes.

Randomly generated page: 10

Line- “Now that’s a low blow!” Playa objected. She was sensitive on the matter, but she had known Fen long enough to know that he was only trading and would go no further.

Rewrite- Coming from anyone else, those words would have really stung. But she [Playa] knew Fen for almost all her life. It was only a playful tease. And so she replied simply with “Now that’s a low blow!”

Randomly generated page: 43

Line- The two were so deep in conversation that it took them a moment to realize that there was someone else beside the oxbow.

Rewrite- Reed laughed. He was enjoying the conversation with Dirge. They were so engrossed in it that when they arrived at the oxbow that it took them a moment to realize that an unfamiliar bird was standing next to it.

Randomly generated page: 60

Line- As they marched along the road, Leif let out a blast from his horn. The foxes on the wall heard it and replied. As soon as they saw the returning party, they opened the southern gate.

Rewrite- The sound of a horn caught the guards by surprise. A patrol was not scheduled to return to the village. And yet it was as clear as day.

“Hunting party returning!” Came the cry from one of the towers. The guard on the gate then reached for his horn and blew a reply. He and his companion then went and raised the gate.

Randomly generated page: 23

Line: All the while, his [Fen] thoughts turned to Playa back at the village. Fen couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at the moment.

Probably still sleeping, he thought. It’s still early.

Rewrite: Playa was up unusually early. Her thoughts right now were the same one she had all evening: Fen.

He’s more than likely awake right about now, she thought. Leif always insists on the new hunters getting an early start. Don’t know how well that is working out for Fen. Hope he hasn’t become too sleep deprived.

Tagging @katenewmanwrites @winglesswriter @bookish-karina @eccaiia @fortunatetragedy

@the-letterbox-archives @revenantlore @mysticstarlightduck @literarynecromancy @sentfromwolves

@aintgonnatakethis @bloodmoonloveletter and open tag

[myveryownfanfiction]

Sharpuary day 12: Bad Day

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing

I walked into the room and slammed the door, stomping around the small space and throwing my jacket onto the back of a chair. I tossed my wand onto the small end table so I wasn't tempted to blast something to smithereens. Not noticing the other person in the room, I went to the bedroom and proceeded to take off my shoes.

"Bad day?" I looked up at the voice and frowned when I saw Aesop get up from his chair in front of the fireplace, closing the book in his hands and putting it down next to my wand. When I didn't respond, he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "Based off your reactions, I'd say it was." We stared at each other for a minute before he made his way into the room, taking a seat next to me as I tossed my shoes into a corner of the room. "Black?"

"Black." I muttered. Aesop sighed and wrapped his arm around me. I shrugged it off and got up to pace. “I swear I’m going to hex him one of these days. Dinah couldn’t stop me. Hell you couldn’t even stop me.” I ran my hands down my face and paused, digging the heel of my hands into my eyes. Aesop chuckled as he squeezed my shoulder.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” I gave him a look out of the corner of my eye. “I for one happen to know that your hexes are not up to snuff. They never were for forte.” Groaning, I dropped my head onto his shoulder.

“Aesop now is not the time for jokes.” I breathed out as he rubbed my back.

“Isn’t it?” He asked. “I for one think it’s exactly what you need.” I rolled my eyes and pulled back. “Besides, the last one I saw you cast was a bat bogey hex and if I remember correctly you conjured an actual bat instead.”

“Yeah.” I muttered as I chuckled, running a hand through my hair in embarrassment. “The intent just wasn’t quite there.”

“Exactly.” Aesop said, pulling me back into him. “But for the right price, I could slip him some veritaserum or giggle water.” I laughed and leaned against him.

“And what would this price be?” I asked, looking at him with shining eyes. Aesop gave me a mischievous grin.

“a kiss.” He said simply. Laughing, I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“there’s your payment.” I said. Aesop gave me a scandalous look. “You never specified where it had to be.” I pointed out. Aesop rolled his eyes.

“alright. Giggle water it is then.” He said. I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the lips, letting Aesop deepen it as he cupped my cheek. “Better. I’ll put both into his cup tomorrow morning at breakfast. Everyone can have a little fun.” I smiled at him and leaned into him more.

“thank you.” I whispered. Aesop nodded as he kissed my head.

“anything to turn your bad day good.” He promised.

[promptthebear]

I'm really sorry to hear about your mum, and your headcold! I hope you start feeling better soon, drink lots of tea! Would it be possible if I could please make a request for #25 “I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.” with Tryion? (also sorry I dont have emojis to send the bunny haha)

Thank you sweet anon! I mentioned a little about this in another post, but we ended up being able to do "Easter" dinner at the end of April so that was nice! I'm starting to get sick again though, so I will take your advice and have lots and lots of tea!

Easter Askbox Event- Tyrion x Reader

CW- Swearing, bc it's Tyrion. F!Reader, Reader is also implied to be a former Bolton or related to them. 2nd person, so reader is referred to as "you". Reader has long hair, but hair colour, eye colour, skin colour and body type are not mentioned.

The song Tyrion sings is this one, it's another old folk song from my choir days even though this is a more modern cover. Enjoy!

Tyrion was in deep shit, and he knew it.

He hadn’t meant to miss dinner again. He’d had every intention of leaving the hand’s office at a reasonable hour, but as always one thing lead to another and suddenly he was sitting in a dark office with the moon peeping through his window and his candles burnt down to stubs.

It wasn’t his fault that Joffery ruled the kingdom with all the skill and tact of a blind, inbred pig that had fallen into a barrel of ale. It also wasn’t his fault that the Small Council expected him to pull miracles out of his shapely arse on a daily basis, but he also knew that after dining alone for what was to be the fifteenth night in a row, you weren’t going to be in a forgiving mood.

When he arrived at your shared chambers,the only thing that greeted Tyrion was a cold fireplace and an eerie, oppressive silence. The dining table had long since been cleared, without even a plate of cold meats or bread waiting for him. He knew this meant you were mere moments away from giving into your Bolton roots and flaying off every bit of his sorry hide to make yourself a dwarven hearth rug.

With all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows, Tyrion approached the door to your bedroom. It was shut fast, the carved lions seeming to judge him from their wooden faces. As much as he wanted to turn tail and make for the farthest inn at the edge of the city, he knew prolonging things would only make matters worse. Taking a deep breath, Tyrion gently knocked on the door and prayed to whatever gods were listening that you’d at least make his demise a quick one.

When no answer came, he knocked again, a little louder this time. He knew you were there, and that you were listening. He could see a shadow cutting through the candlelight that shone out from beneath the door.

“Darling?”

Again, he was met with a bitter silence. Somehow, that stung worse than a biting word or scolding ever could. With a sigh, Tyrion reached for the door handle and was surprised to find it stayed stiff in his grasp. Not only were you refusing to speak to him, you’d locked him out.

“Dearest? Please, open the door. I know I’m horribly late, but how am I meant to make it up to you if you’re hiding from me?”

You didn’t want Tyrion to make it up to you. In fact, the only thing you seemed to want was for Tyrion to starve to death in front of this bastard door, as a reminder to your next idiot husband about what would happen if he crossed you.

All too quickly, Tyrion’s guilt gave way to frustration. He was tired. He was hungry, he’d walked up all those fucking stairs on his stunted legs and damn your stubborn hide, this was his tower! He had paid for the bed you were keeping him from and gave you the key for the door you’d shut in his face. If the blasted thing didn’t lock from the inside, he would’ve long since gone in there and made you see sense.

But that wasn’t going to happen, not anymore than the likelihood of Tyrion growing to the size of the Hound and putting his foot through the wood like it was wet paper. No, he was going to remain stuck out here until you had a change of heart or until the Seven Hells froze over, and at this moment the odds certainly seemed better on that second thing.

Cursing, Tyrion struck the door as hard as he could with his fist. It felt good, so he did it again. And again, punctuating each strike with “shit!” or “bugger!” or “fuck” in increasingly creative combinations. If you weren’t going to forgive him, at the very least he could annoy you into submission.

“Tyrion Lannister, you stop that this instant!”

“Let me in and I will!” Gods, did he ever sound petulant, no better than a child throwing a fit. Couldn’t you see what you’d reduced him to?

“Absolutely not. Your sorry arse can sleep in the stables for all I care.”

“If you don’t open this fucking door-” his voice had taken on a shrill whine that was a little too alike to Joffery for his tastes, but he didn’t give a shit. This was your fault.

“What? What exactly are you going to do from out there? Make some more dents? Wonderful, the woodcarvers guild will be so pleased”

“Fuck!”

In a fit of passion, he took off his boot and threw it against the nearest wall. It hit with a hollow thud, before sliding down and landing uselessly on the floor. Tyrion stood, shoulders squared and breathing hard. Then he heard it. A soft sound from behind the door, one that nearly shattered his sorry, shrivelled heart into a thousand pieces.

You were crying.

Immediately, the fight left him. He hobbled over, collected his boot and resumed his post at the door with his head hanging in shame. He had really done it this time, and if the first thing you did tomorrow morning was chuck him off the castle walls, he wouldn’t blame you. A simple apology wasn’t going to be enough tonight. If he had a prayer in Hell of getting back into your good graces, there was only one thing that he could try.

He always felt that his voice wasn’t much when it came to songs, but you loved it. He’d sung to you, the first time you’d met just after your betrothal. It was a song that made you love him then, so perhaps if he was lucky, it would work again.

“The water is wide. I cannot cross o’er. And neither do I have wings to fly. Give me a boat, that will carry two, and both shall row, my love and I”

His voice was shaking slightly, and he knew he was off key, but a poor offering was better than none at all.

“There is a ship and it sails on the sea. Loaded deep as deep can be But not as deep as the love I'm in. I know not if I sink or swim.”

No sooner had he stopped singing the last note, than he heard the sound of tumblers clicking in the lock. He all but sobbed with relief when you opened the door, falling to his knees and ready to beg for all he was worth.

Much to his surprise, you joined him on the floor, throwing your arms about his neck and burying your face into his shoulder. He held you tight, with a hand around your waist and one in your hair. You were crying still, but you were with him now, and that was all that mattered.

When your tears subsided, he pulled back slightly, trying to see your face. You ducked your head to the side, refusing to meet his eye.

“Beloved, look at me, please?”

“No.” your hair was loose and hung around your cheeks like a curtain. Your voice sounded thick and tight from tears, but with none of the anger from before.

“Why?”

“Because if I look at you, I’ll smile. I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.”

Tyrion chuckled softly and shook his head. He was by no means out of trouble yet, but hearing you jest meant he’d be married to you and alive for at least one more day.

“Well, how about this. We can talk about what an idiot I am, and once you’ve had your fill of that, I’ll write a thousand page sonnet about what a wonderful wife you are, and then if you find you’re still upset with me, I’ll kiss you until you’re happy again.”

“…what if it takes a lot of kisses for that to happen?”

Tyrion placed a quick kiss against your temple, then nuzzled his face against your own. Your familiar scent made him feel like he’d finally been let back into paradise.

“Then we better get started, shouldn’t we?”

[jamesunderwater]

Limited Vocabulary

based on the @jilymicrofics prompt, urge. word count: 2,625. NSFW.

They’d been lucky to make it out in one piece—though one could argue that James was hardly in one piece, exactly, with a deep gash through his forearm and cuts from debris peppering his face. Lily had been on the other side of the pub, battling with two masked death eaters simultaneously, heart pounding, desperately trying not to think about James on the other side of the building. Last she’d seen, he was fighting off an attack from both sides, but was managing very well considering. If he hadn’t been such a talented spellcaster Lily would have been more worried, but she’d been in enough battles with him to know that James could hold his own against two opponents with fairly little effort. She, on the other hand, gifted as she was, didn’t excel nearly as well at dueling, and needed to keep her mind on the present moment in order to not be blasted across the room…or worse. Every time they were in a battle it was clear that their adversaries were much more interested in ending her life than they were anyone else’s, especially if her partner was a pureblood. This fact had resulted in many fights between her and her friends, especially James, Sirius, and Marlene, all of whom felt it was their responsibility to focus on defending her in a fight. She’d finally convinced them to focus on their own battles by emphasizing that if they died for her benefit, she’d never forgive them. And they were all much more likely to make it out alive if they kept focused on their own fight.

Which is why she’d been being a hypocrite as she worried over James in the middle of sending a hex toward one of her assailants, meanwhile ducking a spell from the other. She’d just begun to gain some focus back when a loud crash echoed across the room, and in the moment she turned to see what had happened, a spell from one of her opponents flew past her head, missing her by inches. She didn’t care—across the room from her lay James, crumpled just beyond a large pile of rubble. She darted to him, ducking spells while throwing her own, aware that it was now four against one, aware that she was probably moments away from both of their deaths. When she made it to James’s side, a brief thought crossed her mind that the fates must have some stake in keeping them alive. In the next breath, she was apparating them to the safe house they’d been assigned in case of emergency, which had already been protected by wards to keep them from being followed. 

James was still unconscious when they appeared on the floor of the dark living room. Lily felt his chest for a heartbeat, the rise and fall of it assuring her enough to take a breath. She lit the sconces in the room with a flick of her wand, ignited the fireplace beside them with another, and then got to work. She’d been apprenticing as a healer for nearly a year when the war took a turn for the worse, and it was no longer safe for her to be out in public. But in that time she’d learned enough to be one of the most useful members of the Order, at least when it came to tending the wounded. By the time James awoke, she’d fully healed the cuts on his face, and his arm was tightly wrapped. It would be sore for a day or two, but would mend fine. 

“What…?” He looked around, groggy, until his eyes landed on hers in the firelight. “Are you alright?” His voice pitched up in worry, and James sat up against the cushions of the couch, placing an arm on hers. 

She laughed at him, her throat suddenly tight. “I’m fine, obviously—I’m the one sitting up, aren’t I?”

He didn’t seem to find this funny, only breathing out a sigh of relief. He looked around the room, taking in that they were safe now. “You got us out?”

She nodded, and swallowed hard as he stared at her. She’d never gotten used to the way he looked at her, with such admiration, with such love and tenderness. They’d been through so much together now, and yet nothing had happened beyond those looks. She never fully understood why, except that the war kept everyone so scared that the idea of letting oneself feel anything hopeful and good felt unnatural, or somehow unkind to those who they’d lost. Marlene had told her that she deserved happiness even in the darkness, that they all did, but somehow reaching for it felt impossible, scarier than being in battle against multiple death eaters. She could hardly stand to lose the love she already had—the idea of having anymore, and risking losing it too…it didn’t feel like a bridge she was ready to cross.

Read the rest on AO3.

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

Some Christmas Ironqrow headcanons for you!

1. I always headcanon that Ironwood's relationship with his parents was rocky at best and he was an only child, so I feel like he didn't really celebrate Christmas before he and Qrow started getting closer, he'd always just work through it because why not. Meanwhile ever since Qrow went to Beacon, Summer and Tai had introduced Qrow (and Raven) to Christmas, and he loved it and always tried to make sure to be home for Christmas while Yang and Ruby grew up. So I think it'd be important for Qrow to bring Ironwood into his Christmas traditions. 2. I think that the Rose-Xiao Long-Branwen household always wear Christmas sweaters and do stockings and unwrapping presents under the tree, and Qrow wouldn't want Ironwood to be excluded from it and would buy James a sweater and presents and a stocking and try to fill it with sweets. And James would be so touched and love the sweater so much he'd wear it around the house all the time whether or not it's Christmas. 3. I headcanon that James is just a really good cook, and he'd be so grateful to Qrow and his family for involving him in their family Christmas that he'd want to do something for them too and decides to make Christmas cocoa without realizing that Qrow and Ruby both love chocolate. So then they'd be really happy about the cocoa and James would be all proud of himself. 4. Because of Qrow's semblance, I feel like every single Christmas there's usually some kind of disaster, like the tree catching on fire or a Christmas present getting broken or something. But when James is there, he just kind of notices things that might go wrong and casually fixes them. And he realizes Qrow is anxious about 'ruining Christmas,' and assures him that if anything does happen, it can be fixed. And so Qrow actually relaxes for once and stops worrying. 5. Yang and Ruby definitely try to get the two of them under the mistletoe together. XD Qrow tries to avoid it because he doesn't want to make James uncomfortable, but near the end of the day, they do wind up under it all alone and James kisses him on the cheek and Qrow thinks it's the sweetest thing. 6. The two of them would definitely curl up by the fireplace listening to Christmas carols while James read some book Qrow had gotten him for Christmas, and Qrow would fall asleep on his shoulder. 7. James would want to involve Penny in the traditions the next year and Ruby would be super down for that, and I feel like Ruby would try to get them all to snowball fight with her with Penny on her team. Tai and Yang would team up, and Ironwood and Qrow would team up, and they'd have like an all out (good natured) war with it. XD But James would let Ruby and Penny win. XD

So yeah, those are just some thoughts about Ironqrow Christmas I have. XD

Oh my gosh I love these all so much and they line up with a lot of my headcannons!!!!

I also headcannon James and his parents did not get along and so the holidays for him are really rough until he meets Qrow and he finds joy in the holidays again.

I just love the idea of Qrows semblance acting up more when he’s super nervous but when he’s calm he can control it better and love the idea of James helps him stay calm and relax so his semblance doesn’t act out as much.

Ohh I love the mistletoe thing especially if they haven’t gotten together yet and they’re trying to help them get together! Even better if James sneaks a kiss on the cheek when no one is looking.

I know this isn’t necessarily that kind of Au but give me papa James to Penny any day and I’ll eat it up lolZ XD. Penny would excitedly drag James into the fight and he’d surprisingly get really into it. He and Qrow would get into a heated fight and have a blast with it.

And then after a long and cold day in the snow they’d curl up by the fire and get just a little too cozy and both fall asleep on the sofa and comfy and cozy.

I love them all so much for these thank you for that. I know you know but this Christmas season has been really rough and weighing me down so these headcannons where so nice to see I’ve really needed a pick me up.