#willow; the fiery

[the-valianter-valkyriest]

🗡️ [@sillywillow] TEEHEE

"Careful, Willöw-!"

Perhaps Wigfrid should have been a little more careful herself with exactly where she left her things... Though it wasn't as though she got visitors all too often. With that in mind, who could blame her for placing her spear in a place she assumed to be safe. It wasn't as if she would have walked right into it.

... Or, at least, that's what she assumed, before she turned around, turned back, and nearly walked directly into the spear Willow had now been holding and pointing.

That would have been embarrassing.

[slitheringghost]

Hermione As Teacher And Connections To Lily

An interesting narrative thread is how often Hermione's magic and teaching influences other characters' and how often it goes unrecognized, and particularly how it parallels a lot of Lily's own magic saving Harry from Voldemort. (Read on Ao3)

1. Triwizard Tournament

Summoning Charm

he did so badly at Summoning Charms in Professor Flitwick’s class that he was given extra homework — the only person to get any, apart from Neville. “It’s really not that difficult, Harry,” Hermione tried to reassure him [...] — she had been making objects zoom across the room to her all lesson, as though she were some sort of weird magnet [...] “You just weren’t concentrating properly —” (Ch 18, GoF)

Harry still hadn’t mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes (Ch 19, GoF)

“Hermione, I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon.” And so they practiced. They didn’t have lunch, but headed for a free classroom [...] At two o’clock in the morning, Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects [...] Only in the last hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm. “That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased. (Ch 20, GoF)

Flitwick then spends most of a lesson "talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the First Task".

1.2 Shield Charm

(Full analysis of the Shield Charm and how it's textually linked to Lily is in my meta When Lily Cast Her Life As A Shield)

He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses [...] “You’re still doing really well, though,” Hermione said encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells they had already learned. “Some of these are bound to come in handy.” [...] Come on, Harry,” she added briskly [...] “let’s try that Shield Charm again.” (Ch 31, GoF)

Which Harry then teaches the DA:

He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, [...] only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville. (Ch 25, OoTP)

Then, what Fred and George say makes the real money in the joke shop:

“We’ve just developed this more serious line,” said Fred. “Funny how it happened...” “You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield Charm,” said George. “’Course, they didn’t have you teaching them, Harry.” “That’s right... Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we’re still getting massive orders!” “So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves...” “...I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes...” (Ch 6, HBP) Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued [...] Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville’s muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word (Ch 9, HBP)

I love that Harry is then the one to teach Hermione the Patronus Charm - which Remus tells Harry is "a kind of anti-dementor - a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor".

1.3 Four-Point Spell

and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione’s that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. (Ch 31, GoF)

“Point Me,” he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his palm. The wand spun around once and pointed toward his right, into solid hedge. (Ch 31, GoF)

It's reasonable to extrapolate that the spell is Hermione's invention, given that it's the only spell with an English incantation, and inventions are referred to as "discoveries" several times - Remus wrt the Wolfsbane Potion in PoA, Dumbledore's work ("the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood", "does Skeeter deny the brilliance that led to Dumbledore’s many magical discoveries?"), Harry has to "memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions" and mentions books titled "Important Modern Magical Discoveries and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry", Fred says they "spent six months developing" the Ton-Tongue Toffees, etc.

Hermione inventing this is particularly compelling given that it's similar to what Harry's wand does in DH (related to Lily's spellwork deflecting the Killing Curse), and Harry's conflict with her after she breaks his wand.

[...] his wand acted of its own accord. He felt it drag his hand around like some great magnet, saw a spurt of golden fire through his half-closed eyelids, heard a crack and a scream of fury. (Ch 4, DH) He knew exactly what Hermione would say if he expressed any of this: The wand is only as good as the wizard. But she was wrong, his case was different. She had not felt the wand spin like the needle of a compass and shoot golden flames at his enemy. (Ch 18, DH)

Also notable is Hermione solving Snape's Potions riddle, and Harry echoing this with solving the Sphinx riddle during the Third Task (Harry thinking “it was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him” and then “amazed at his own brilliance” when he solves it).

2. Other examples

2.1 Impervius Charm

“I’ve got no chance with these on,” Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses. At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. “I’ve had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!” He handed them to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, “Impervius!” “There!” she said [...] “They’ll repel water!” Wood looked as though he could have kissed her. “Brilliant!” he called hoarsely after her [...] Hermione’s spell had done the trick. (Ch 9, PoA) "Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?” “Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!” “I think we all ought to try that,” said Angelina. “[...] all together, come on — Impervius!" (Ch 18, OoTP)

Additionally, when Padfoot comes to watch during that PoA match and dementors swarm the field, making Harry hear Lily's murder for the first time, Harry falls from his broom, his Nimbus crashes into the Whomping Willow, others say they thought he was dead and "Lucky the ground was so soft" - of course, it wasn't luck, it was Dumbledore; Hermione then repeats these actions in DH - during the waterfall in the Thief's Downfall (evokes the drowning feeling from dementors; and Hermione additionally uses the Shield Charm there) and immediately after they escape LV in Godric’s Hollow and Harry finally gets the full memory of Lily's death (Hermione’s eyes being emphasized):

“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione said in a quaking voice. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away [...]" “Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” said Ron. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were...” (Ch 9, PoA) “Yes,” said Hermione. “I had to use a Hover Charm to get you into your bunk, I couldn't lift you [...]" There were purple shadows under her brown eyes and he noticed a small sponge in her hand: She had been wiping his face. (Ch 17, DH) Water filled Harry’s eyes and mouth: He could not see or breathe: [...] Harry heard the cart smash into pieces against the passage wall, heard Hermione shriek something, and felt himself glide back toward the ground as though weightless, landing painlessly on the rocky passage floor. “C-Cushioning Charm,” Hermione spluttered (Ch 26, DH)

2.2 Murtlap Essence

During that PoA practice, Fred and George were debating using Fever Fudge to get out of flying:

“— but you get these massive pus-filled boils too,” said George, “and we haven’t worked out how to get rid of them yet.” “I can’t see any boils,” said Ron, staring at the twins. “No, well, you wouldn’t,” said Fred darkly, “they’re not in a place we generally display to the public —” “— but they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the —” (Ch 18, OoTP)

The knowledge Hermione uses to heal the I must not tell lies scar on Harry's hand helps the twins finish the Snackboxes:

“Here,” she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward him, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.” Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. (Ch 15, OoTP) When Harry next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly. Harry recommended essence of murtlap. (Ch 25, OoTP) Hermione cast him a stern look. “You’ve got exams coming!” “Told you already, we’re not fussed about N.E.W.T.s,” said Fred. “The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of murtlap essence sorts them, Lee put us onto it...” (Ch 26, OoTP)

2.3 Magical Eavesdropping Methods

Harry frankly marveled at the fact that Hermione could research magical methods of eavesdropping as well as everything else they had to do. (Ch 28, GoF)

People have theorized that Hermione’s research while she was taking revenge against Rita Skeeter may have aided Fred and George develop the Extendable Ears, esp. since she was staying at 12GP that summer.

2.4 DA Galleons

Hermione's inspired by Voldemort's magic to invent the DA's communication method; Draco then gets the idea from that to carry out his Death Eater mission, enchanting his own coins to secretly communicate with Rosmerta, and also gets the idea to poison the mead from Hermione, having "heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions".

“You know what these remind me of?” “No, what’s that?” “The Death Eaters’ scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they’ve got to join him.” “Well... yes,” said Hermione quietly. “That is where I got the idea... but you’ll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin...” “Yeah... I prefer your way,” said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. (Ch 19, OoTP)

Notably, Lily's blood magic - unlike Hermione's and very like Voldemort's - does burn Voldemort's skin.

Similarly significant is Hermione's invention of the SNEAK curse - where the DA members all sign the binding contract in the Hog's Head, the same establishment where Trelawney gave the prophecy, and the binding contract incorporated in Lily's magic. Hermione enchants ~28 coins for the whole DA and creates the curse within the span of ~a month.

2.5 O.W.L. exam

Three rows to his right and four seats ahead, Hermione was already scribbling… He lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation, and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly... Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... Smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write

On the whole Harry thought it went rather well; his Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy’s had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Color-Change and Growth Charms (Ch 31, OoTP) the exam to which Harry was looking forward least and which he was sure would be the one that would be the downfall of his ambitions to become an Auror. Sure enough, he found the written exam difficult, though he thought he might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion: He could describe its effects extremely accurately, having taken it illegally in his second year. (Ch 31, OoTP)

Hermione is linked to Harry's Charms and Potions exams, the subjects most directly tied to Lily. Important to note that Professor Marchbanks praises Dumbledore for having “done things with a wand I’d never seen before” during his Charms and Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s - which Hermione didn't get to take 'cause of the war; and Harry and Neville are acknowledged as doing better in Potions without Snape's presence - clearly true of Hermione's potential too as her best accomplishment was brewing a N.E.W.T. level potion second year, outside Snape's supervision (which took a month, and then she spent 2 months in the hospital due to petrification/Polyjuice turning her into a cat).

2.6 Body Bind Curse

Harry turned to Hermione. “Do something,” he said desperately. [...] “Neville,” she said, “I’m really, really sorry about this.” “Petrificus Totalus!” she cried [...] Neville’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board. [...] “What’ve you done to him?” Harry whispered. “It’s the full Body-Bind,” said Hermione miserably. (PS)

Interestingly, Harry instinctively copies what he saw of Sirius in SWM during the DoM sequence, using the full Body Bind for the first time (at least, that we see on screen). Hermione compliments Harry on it, calling back to her being the first one to show him first year - and her being cursed right after echoes the description of Sirius falling through the veil: "the second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest", his eyes widening in shock and the "look of mingled fear and surprise".

Sirius said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and Snape keeled over again at once, rigid as a board. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily. (Ch 28, OoTP) “Petrificus Totalus!” shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand [...] “Well done, Ha —” But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione’s chest; she gave a tiny “oh!” as though of surprise and then crumpled onto the floor (Ch 35, OoTP) Harry seized his chance: “PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” The spell hit Dolohov before he could block it, and he toppled forward across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch. (Ch 35, OoTP) Springing up, Harry yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” Once again, Dolohov’s arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backward, landing with a crash on his back. “Nice one!” shouted Sirius, forcing Harry’s head down [...] (Ch 35, OoTP)

2.7 Unbreakable Charm

Not something Hermione specifically taught, but also interesting is Hermione mirroring Barty Crouch Jr. during his Unforgivables lesson (and saying Harry gave her the idea when he mentioned "bugging").

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. (Ch 14, GoF)

“Oh not electronic bugs [...] Rita Skeeter [...] is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —” Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. “— into a beetle.” [...] Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle [...] Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass. [...] “I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.” (Ch 37, GoF)

Hermione imprisoning Rita Skeeter in a jar vaguely references Lily and Harry's actions in 1981 leading to an "imprisoned" LV in Albania; this also happens a few chapters after Priori Incantatem, and Harry and LV under the web of light evokes insects trapped underneath glass:

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now... “Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light [...] and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” (Ch 34, GoF)

Then the phoenix song comes from "every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort", and a voice saying Don't break the connection (elaborated here).

3.0 Blasting Curse

All this comes full circle in the Godric's Hollow graveyard in DH (a deeper analysis also for another post), where Hermione mirrors what Harry did because of Lily as a baby (and also Harry's actions at the start of DH while flying during the Battle of the Seven Potters): blows up the house (“Confringo") and enrages Voldemort as she and Harry fly out the window - fly from death - together.

[fieriframes]

[Mysterious willows. I hear their melancholy. I wither with them. Each step in this land is sentimental. Silent and heartbreaking. A path to nothingness. I see it approaching.]

[digital-roots]

Playing dont starve and spent a whole day trying to get a fire staff from a fire hound trap

Basically, there was a herd of beefalos nearby and so whenever I hit one of the hounds, I run away far enough so that it'll try to bite the beefalo instead, and then itll get killed. This plan actually worked, I ended up getting the fire staff.

Unfortunately, It started to become nighttime, and a fool I was because i couldn't make a fire at all.

So, knowing that I'll probably die anyway, I had the idea to use the fire staff to set fire to the beefalos and run around them till sunrise. It was really funny actually doing that, repeating when the fire was put out. I almost made it to the next day too, before a beefalo killed me.

[baldwillow]

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fall Into the Dark With Me✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

A/N: I have had this idea for the longest time to mix the two things I love the most together. I hope you love it as much as I do! Hogwarts AU with Joel Miller was the best idea I’ve had in a while. He is an absolute menace in this, and I love him very much 🥰 Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading!

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.9k

Tags: Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, relentless teasing, flirting, pining, Joel is a menace, no use y/n, Hogwarts AU, Joel has a dirty mouth, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, porn with plot, Harry Potter spells and references, no outbreak au, Dark Arts! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  August blew in as fast as the hot summer breeze slipped out of reach. No more cozy afternoons curled up on your plush couch with your cat. You were back to big green open lands, back to the scents of willow trees and butterbeer, back to Hogwarts. Home for the next school year. 

   The thing was, you weren’t prepared for what awaited you behind those grand castle walls this semester, not even a little bit. You weren’t prepared for him. 

   Joel Miller, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the absolute bane of your existence. Ever since you locked eyes with him that first time in the Great Hall, you couldn’t get those gorgeous brown irises out of your head. 

   He was a menace; you could just tell. You knew the moment you saw that smug smirk on his face, those tousled grey flecked curls you could lace your fingers through, that patchy salt-and-pepper beard that you imagined might feel so good trailing down the skin of your neck with plush lips teasing across your body. 

   It was the way he carried himself. Like he owned every single damn room he walked into. Button-up silky shirts that he rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long, corded veins that skated down his tanned forearms. But let’s not forget the emerald snake tattoo that slithered its way around his forearm, accentuating the tanned skin that glowed almost golden under the warm, sunlit skies. Marking his Slytherin blood with ink. And those hands. Big, thick fingers that he’d wrap around his dark brown dragon heartstring wand as he chanted spells inside his classroom. And the way his eyes always seemed to shift toward yours in a crowded room. Those dark brown coffee-colored eyes that seemed to put you under a hypnotic spell. 

   He was trouble. You knew it, too. 

   It all started that first day, after that first heated stare at the sorting ceremony. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you for the entire night. He didn’t hide it either. And then it was the casual grazing of hands in crowded halls, the flirtatious smiles and winks across the dining hall, the small conversations in the outside gardens as he’d slip a green apple from his pocket and slowly take a bite out of it. His eyes never leaving yours as they devoured you. Just like you’d wish he’d do to your skin, your lips, your flustered core. 

   He knew what he was doing, he knew damn well. 

   It was just a flirtatious banter between a tall, handsome Slytherin and a shy, gentle Hufflepuff. One a Dark Arts professor, the other a Herbology professor. It was only casual conversations and the occasional grazing of hands. Until it wasn’t. 

   No. Then he started taunting you, playing petty games. The hard-to-get kind of games. 

   One of the assistant professors, Priscilla Wilson, would always try to get attention from Professor Miller. Finding any reason to reach over and brush her fingers over his broad shoulders. Flip her long, fiery red hair, bat her long eyelashes, giggle every time he gives in to her flirting and winks over at her, making her nearly fall out of her seat. And every single time he’d entertain her, he’d look your way and fucking smirk at you. 

   Fucking smirk.

   Smug bastard. You just want to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but you also just really want to fucking kiss it off. 

   You’re so royally fucked.

   He loves to tease you. Loves to put you right on the edge where you’ll either lash out and call him on his bluff, or just scoff and brush it off your shoulder like a Cornish Pixie. 

   He knows damn well it gets you all flustered. Cheeks red, hot breath blowing from your mouth, pursed lips as he smirks your way while other women fawn over him. Drool practically hanging from their gawking mouths. You can practically feel the pride he wears inside that broad chest of his. Brown eyes narrowed while he dares you to do anything about it. He knows you won’t. Knows you’re better than to give in to his little tricks. So you just take it and stomp out of the room. Every single time while his devious chuckle floats through the room, right into your ears. 

   Well, he’d gotten into your head long ago. You gave in to the temptation of his smoldering brown eyes, the playful smirks that curl across his plush lips, that fucking Southern accent that drives you up the walls when you’re in your bed late at night. 

   He’s poisoned you. Enchanted you with his cunning Slytherin ways. Handsome, ambitious, prideful, strong, mischievous, smoldering. That’s exactly why you slip your hand under the cool sheets night after night. Fingers curling up inside you, thumb stroking light circles over your needy clit, moaning his name, pretending that it’s him under your sheets taking you over the edge. 

   His hands, his fingers, his filthy words, his mouth, his cock, his everything giving you orgasm after orgasm. And when you’re finished, sweat coating every inch of your skin, you feel breathless and dirty. 

   This is what he wants. You all hot and bothered for him. Well, he won because you’re already completely smitten for the Slytherin man. 

   And one day, he’ll give in to you, too. 

   The cool air whips past your hair as students shuffle by in the busy hall, rushing so they won’t be late to their classes. Large, cascading open windows filter sunlight through the massive hallway, historical paintings fill the stone walls, towering archways pave every corner, wafts of autumn leaves and pumpkins marinate through the air. 

   Hogwarts is peaceful, and this place is magical.

   As the last of the students disappear down corridors and hurry into classrooms, you’re suddenly alone in the hallway. No noise except for the classroom in front of you. But it’s not just any classroom. 

   It’s the Dark Arts classroom. Joel’s classroom. 

   You lean against the stony wall, wait until all the students quiet down. Eventually, Joel shuts them up and then there’s nothing but his deep, Southern drawl filling the room, filtering out just enough in the hall for you to sit and listen. 

   You do this often. More like every other day. Sitting outside his classroom, listening to his melodic voice teaching about his passion. He’s always had a love for the Dark Arts and now, so do you. 

   As you lean against the edge of the doorway, back against the stone-covered wall, you seem to get lost in the deep drawl of his voice like an enchanted siren. You could listen to him for hours on end. He’s good at what he does. Smart, cunning, brilliant. 

   And by brilliant, you mean he’s wiser than some of the ghosts that lurk these castle corridors. Some people even whisper that he can speak Parseltongue. And you don’t doubt it for one second. The man would open the Chamber of Secrets if someone would let him. 

   But Joel doesn’t need permission from anyone. He does what he wants, when he wants, and who he wants. You just wish that someone was you. 

   You sigh as you lean against the wall, panting every time he starts lecturing on different subjects about the Dark Arts. Today, he’s teaching about werewolves. And that is a subject you happen to find quite fascinating. 

   “Miss Flora, can you tell me how—.”

   You shift your weight and lose your balance, almost tumbling to the polished floor until you grab ahold of the silver-edged door and stop yourself. 

   The classroom grows silent and so does Joel’s bravado voice. 

   Shit. You just got caught red handed. 

   “Think we’ve got a straggler out in the hall. Think they should come in. Don’t you, students?” You hear the smirk in his voice. Like he knows it’s you. But how would he know…

   Oh, right. Because he’s the smartest fucking professor at this school. 

   When he clears his throat, you know you won’t be able to weasel your way out of this one. So, you take a hesitant step into the entrance of his classroom, and there he is. Big brown eyes narrowed just slightly and a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

   God, he’s so good looking.

   “Ahh. Professor. Care to join us?” he asks, stepping around his mahogany desk, tapping the tip of his dragon heartstring wand against the top of his thigh.

   That’s all it takes to have you weak in the knees. Because the way he’s looking at you tells you everything you need to know. He wants to pull your strings, make you shiver, make you pliable. And now’s the perfect opportunity where he can fluster you up without even fucking touching you. 

   Shit.

   “Take a seat,” he says, nodding to an open seat at the back of the room.

   You shake your head and take a step back, careful not to look straight into his brown eyes. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t interrupt. I was just—.” 

   “Sit. Down.” It’s not a question but a demand.

   You purse your lips and take the empty seat while several of the students snicker and whisper to each other. 

   Great. Now you’re really blushing. 

   You take a look around the classroom while Joel continues his lesson, flicking his wand to turn to the next slide overhead. The room is dim, curtains drawn so only the floating candles and twinkling lights from hanging lamps fill the room. A dragon’s skeleton is displayed in the back of the room, his mahogany desk covered in neat papers, dark artifacts, and ink quills. Banners of the forbidden forest and creatures of the black lake are spread high across the elegant stone walls. A dusty chandelier with glittering crystals tops off the room, painting golden sparkles on the ceiling. 

   The room is very him. Dark, divine, mysterious, gorgeous. It even fucking smells like him. Cedar wood, mahogany, green apples, whiskey. The room has his trademark all over it.

   You sit back against the wooden chair and watch the way he commands a room. The slight flick of his wand every time he paces back and forth, his rapt attention each time a student answers or asks a question, the way his thick fingers glide through his tousled curls, the way his gaze always seems to come back to you. 

   Werewolf facts slip from his tongue. Their history, their patterns, their targets. One of your favorite creatures to learn about. Especially when it’s coming from him and his deep, magnetic voice.

   It’s like the room turns ten degrees hotter with every minute that passes. Sweat pricks behind the back of your neck, your thighs warm as you cross a leg over your knee, your black skirt of your dress hiking up a little too high, your heart thundering against your chest. 

   You’re a fucking mess because you’re watching him. Twitching, jittering, and shifting every other minute in your seat. He fucking loves to watch you squirm, too. You can see him smirking from the front of the classroom, and it’s all for you.

   “Can anyone tell me what’s the cure for a werewolf bite?” he asks, pacing the room back and forth, eyeing each student with a patient glance.

   His footsteps echo around the cascading room, his hands behind his back, a slight tick in his jaw when no one answers.

   “There’s a cure?” one of the students questions, heads whipping around to face the baffled third year with confusion written all over her innocent face.

   “Yes,” Joel says with a clipped tone. “C’mon. Think. What two things can cure a werewolf bite?”

   Nothing. Not even a peep comes from the copious amount of students in the room. Just eyes to the ground and awkward shifting in their seats. None of them know.

   “Collin?” Joel asks, standing in front of the blonde boy’s chair. His scared blue eyes give away that he’s intimidated and doesn’t know the answer.

   “Umm. I—ugh. Gillyweed?” he guesses, lifting his hopeful eyes when he thinks he may be right.

   “No,” Joel snaps. “Gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater. It does not cure a werewolf bite. Maybe read the text next time before class and then you’d know.” Joel narrows his eyes at Collin, and the scared third year looks down in shame. 

   God. He really intimidates everyone. Doesn’t he?

   “Think. What. Cures. The. Bite.” He accentuates every syllable, draws it out with a deep growl, narrows his eyes into thin slits when nobody can answer. He looks like he’s about to snap with how tight he’s holding his wand. But before he does, you decide to answer.

   “Silver and dittany,” you respond, and then the students turn with wide eyes. Right in your direction. You slide down in your chair just a little to alleviate the embarrassment of all eyes on you. 

   Joel turns to you and smirks, his eyes turning darker with every second that ticks by. It’s like he’s staring right through your soul, sucking it out until every single bit belongs to him. 

   “Clever girl,” he whispers. Just loud enough for you to hear because it was meant directly for you, not the class. His eyes flash onyx as he stares your way, heat rising in your cheeks. But in the next second, his eyes are elsewhere. 

   “Could learn a thing or two if you paid attention to your professor in Herbology,” he growls, the closed windows rumbling as his deep voice booms through the large corridor. It’s enough to make goosebumps prickle down the length of your arms.

   The students shake and quiver in their seats, eyes casted down to the dark material of the floor. And in the next five minutes, Joel’s dismissing them.

   “Remember, read chapters ten through twelve before the end of the week. And for the love of Salazar, pay attention in your classes. All of them. Class dismissed,” he clips, teeth bared and jaw clenched.

   The students hurry and filter out of the classroom, black robes flying as they scurry off out of the wrath of Professor Miller. 

   As you get up to make your way out to the hall, he stops you. “Not you.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

   You freeze, just a few feet from the doorway. And then he takes his wand and shuts the heavy doors with a bang that makes you jump from the sound.

   Alone. You’re alone with him. In his classroom, on his free hour. And suddenly, the room is stifling.

   “So. You like to listen in on my lessons now, don’t ya?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, large biceps clinging to the white button-up shirt, his green striped tie loose around his neck.

   “I—uhh.” You’re all of a sudden completely speechless as he stands in front of you, his woodsy scent making you dizzy with need.

   “You don’t gotta play coy, sweetheart. Know you sit out there listenin’ all the time,” he smiles, flashing his white teeth and making you blush at the name sweetheart.

   His Southern drawl always made you a little worked up.

   “Why didn’t you say anything then if you knew?” you ask, eyebrows threaded together, lips pursed tight. 

   “Figured I’d jus’ let ya indulge. If you know what I mean,” he smirks, giving you a seductive wink that sends heat to your cheeks.

   He’s always so fucking cunning. Quick comebacks that could send you down to your knees. Maybe that’s what he wants.

   “You’re unbelievable. You know that?” you spit, hands on your hips, waiting for him to say something smart back.

   “Am I?” He quirks a brow, steps closer where you can practically taste his strong cologne. And that’s it. You’re so done for.

   “Yes.” You stand your ground firm. Eyes icy as you look at his fiery ones.

   Jesus. The man could burn this entire castle down with one stare.

   “How so?” he asks curiously, eyeing you with heightened interest.

   “Why don’t you ask Priscilla? You know, since she’s always hanging around you.” You roll your eyes, shake your head, and throw your hair behind your shoulders with a glare. Like that’ll show him you mean business.

   “Don’t do that,” he says quietly, brown eyes trained on you. 

   “Don’t do what?” you ask, anger boiling on the back of your tongue. 

   “Stop bein’ fuckin’ jealous,” he growls, his large hands hovering over yours, heat simmering between the small space between the two of you. Just like a sweltering sauna. You can practically feel the flames licking at your skin. All over you.

   “Then stop flirting with her right in front of me,” you glower, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He just laughs at you like you just said the funniest joke in the world. He can’t be fucking serious.

   “You know I only do it to get a rise out of you,” he smiles, painting your cheeks crimson at how smitten you feel when you see that deep dimple appear in the corner of his left cheek when he’s smiling. But nevertheless, he’s not getting off that easy. Not today, at least.

   “Oh, don’t I fucking know,” you scoff, your heel digging into the hard surface of the floor. Showing just how much he’s getting under your skin. 

   “You know, you’re pretty adorable when you’re all flustered. You know that?” He brushes the back of his palm against your jawline, barely touching you but setting you completely on fire.

   You bat his hand away, fix him with a tight-lipped scowl. “Flustered? That’s why you torture me day after day?”

   He nods his head and smirks, letting his big ego fly around the room like a barn owl. “Mhm. Like you all worked up. Probably makes you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Bet you touch yourself at night jus’ thinkin’ of me.” And there’s that damn smirk. The one that’s got your stomach all tied in knots.

   “You’re such an asshole,” you scoff as you push at his broad chest, but he barely moves an inch. He’s like a thick brick wall that you just can’t seem to penetrate. No matter what you do. 

   “You fuckin’ love it, though,” he challenges, brown eyes turning into dreamy bedroom eyes.

   No, you’re not doing this. You’re not playing his game.

   “No. And I’m leaving.” You turn with the flip of your hair, stomping your way up the row of empty desks. And when your hand wraps around the gold-threaded doorknob, you feel the faint buzz of power permeate around your body.

   “The hell you are,” he growls. “Accio!” 

   It feels like an invisible string wraps around your entire body, and suddenly you’re being pulled back by a sharp tug. Your body whisks through the air, and you have no power to stop the force.

   He snakes his arms around your waist, tugging you against his broad chest, catching you before you go flying into his lavish desk. You gasp, the air knocked from your lungs as his warm breath fans over your lips. Green apples and whiskey serenade your senses, and suddenly you’re a ragdoll in his arms. There at his beck and call, whatever he needs. You’re done for.

   “That’s cheating,” you whisper, voice barely audibly as your throat closes up the closer he brings you against his large body.

   “It ain’t cheatin’. It’s called magic, sweetheart,” he winks, making an exaggerated groan pull from your lips. 

   He’s always so smooth. Like a cold glass of neat whiskey that runs straight to your stomach, ending in your core. 

   “What are you doing, Joel?” you sigh, giving up the fight. You stop shoving against him and relax, your body still against his.

   “Givin’ in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, one hand hovering against your lower back. Right at the end of the zipper of your dress.

   “Like you gave into Priscilla?” you spit out, narrowed eyes trained right on him. You’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine one of these days. Drive him crazy like he drives you mad every single fucking day.

   “Now hold on there,” he says with a pause, sliding one of his hands up to your wrist, holding it tight against his chest. “I never even laid a finger on Priscilla.”

   Your jaw drops, and you wag a finger at him. “You sure about that? Because she has a pretty loud mouth.”

   “She ain’t the one I want, sweetheart. And you should know that.” He fixes you with a deep stare. His eyes look like glowing, syrupy orbs. You’re pretty sure you want to get lost in them. Let them drag you down into their dark depths where you’ll never see daylight again.

   “Oh? And who is it that you want?” you whisper, voice suddenly shaky and nervous. 

   When he nods down toward you, you nearly crumble at his feet. “The only woman I wanna be touchin’ is the pretty Hufflepuff that’s all flustered in my arms.” His smile makes you lose your balance, but he just holds you tighter. Fingers curling against the soft cotton of your dress, burning your skin even from the layers that cover you. 

   He might as well cast Incendio on you. You’re already burning.

   “You’re such a tease,” you giggle, pushing him playfully in the chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt cling to your skin.

   “That I am,” he chuckles, making you nearly hyperventilate at his cocky demeanor. He knows he’s slick; you’ll give him that.

   “I need to get to class,” you sigh, trying to break free of his grip, but he only holds you tighter. No escaping him.

   “No, you don’t. You don’t have class for another hour. And neither do I.”

   The sudden realization hits you like an oncoming train. He’s got you trapped in his web, ready to sink his teeth in you at any second.

   The dim lights seem to darken even more as the thick tension blows through the classroom. Silence takes over, and you’re left with nothing but your racing heartbeat and his shallow breath. Warmth pools through your core as you watch those smoldering brown eyes light your skin on fire.

   You’re wrecked.

   “Well, I just—.” You try to take a step back, but then his hands run down your arms slowly, goosebumps taking hold in every single place he leaves his mark. 

   “Why don’t you jus’ relax here for a bit? Can think of somethin’ to unwind that pretty mind of yours.”

   He starts slowly circling you. Calloused fingers running over your back. Warm breath blowing down the base of your neck. Lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp at the contact. 

   “I don’t think so, Joel. I—.” You stop talking the moment he moves your hair across your right shoulder. His lips drag down the side of your neck, barely grazing but enough to make warmth flood through your lace.

   “C’mon now. Know you want this. Know you want my touch.” He takes a hand and moves it around the front of your waist. “My fingers.” He brushes his hand lightly down your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. “My lips.” He molds his mouth around your collarbone and sucks, eliciting a moan from your lips.

   “Oh. That’s… oh.” He nips at your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down just enough to make contact with your skin. And fuck, it feels good.

   You want to run, say no, give him hell for the hell he’s given you. But you’re a moth drawn to the flame. And you have no will to say no to him. 

   “Give in, sweetheart. Give in to the dark side. Know you want to,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as the sweet incantations put a spell on you.

   “I uhh—yes…” you lull as he turns you around and pushes you back into the front of his desk. His large stature towering over you. Hands on either side of the desk, caging you into him.

   “Say it. Say you want this. That you want me.” His mouth hovers over yours, blows hot air where you can basically taste the whiskey that encompasses his tongue. And you feel it then. That thick bulge against your thigh. Letting you know just how hard he is for you. And fuck, you think you might pass out from how stifling the room is now.

   “I—.” He slowly cups the back of your thighs and lifts you up, right on the edge of his mahogany desk, legs dangling from the position. He takes his wand and starts spreading your legs until he’s standing between them, one hand skimming over the top of your shaking thigh. Then he throws his wand to the side of the desk, uses his hands to undress you. Starting with your skirt. He lifts it slowly over your hips, leaving you with your white lace panties exposed to the cool air, completely soaked through.

   He rakes a hand heavily down his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the mess you’ve made. “Look at you. Fuckin’ soakin’ for me, sweetheart. This all for me?” he asks, his thumb brushing over your wet center, pressing against your slick-clothed folds.

   “Yes,” you whine as he slowly unzips the back, pushing the dress down until it’s a messy pile on the floor. He unclasps the matching lace bra, throwing that to the side, leaving your perky breasts on full display for him to indulge in.

   He licks his bottom lip seductively slow, practically drooling as he takes in the sight of you all sprawled out and bare for him. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the vision of you open and ready for him.

   His mouth drags down your throat, down your chest until his lips suctions to your breasts, tongue flicking the pebbled nipples, eliciting more slick in your lace panties.

   “Say you want this, sweetheart. Say you want me,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees like he’s worshiping a goddess, hands roaming up your inner thighs, teasing you relentlessly. He slips under your lace, one finger brushing over your clit. You’re a writhing mess beneath him at this point.

   “Oh, fuck. Yes. Want you. Need you, Professor Miller,” you mewl, bucking your hips up to get the friction you so desperately need.

   “Good girl,” he praises, slowly dragging your ruined lace to the floor, leaving you open and bare and dripping for him.

   “Fuck,” he curses, raking a hand down his scruff, eyes lust-blown as he takes you in nice and slow. He’s mesmerized by the beauty before him, and he’s memorizing every single detail about your glistening body. He thinks you’re a fucking angel. All pliant and ready for him. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

   From the carnal, possessive way he’s looking at you, you’re pretty sure he’ll save this memory for another time. Bottle it up so he can go back and watch it over and over again, until he sees nothing but you with every waking breath he breathes.

   He materializes in front of you, casting dark shadows all over the silhouette of the walls, tongue dragging up your inner thigh, his thumb teasing the outer edge of your drenched folds.

   “Fuck, Joel,” you mewl, bucking your hips up in the hopes of his lips landing on your mound.

   “Patience, baby. And call me Professor Miller. Love how it sounds falling off your pretty lips,” he chuckles, tongue barely scraping over your needy clit.

   You suck in a breath and grab the crown of his head, locking your fingers in his soft hair. Tousled sandy locks and glittering greys catching the light of the twinkling lamps floating in the room. He looks like a masterpiece.

   “Please, Professor Miller. Need you,” you beg, his hot breath fanning across your aching core. You’re burning for him. 

   “Yeah ya do. Dirty little Hufflepuff,” he chuckles, blowing a puff of warmth over your mound. Slick runs down your inner thighs, and his eyes blow into deep pools of black lust. “Think you might have a little Slytherin in you after all,” he smirks, gliding his thumb through your slick folds and eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth.

   “Slyther—ohhh,” you groan as he licks a thick stripe up the entirety of your core. 

   Suddenly, the room is spinning, and you can’t find your balance. You’ll just fall off the edge as long as Joel catches you. You think he will.

   “That’s right. Take it. Let the temptation consume you. Let me slither in and make you come undone,” he drawls out in a husky breath, making you moan at the sound of his deep timbre.

   It’s like you’re cast under a deep spell. Pulling you under, consuming you in copious amounts of pleasure, starlight flashing as your eyes roll back with every flick of his tongue to your puffy clit.

   He tugs you to the very edge of the smooth desk and wraps his arms tightly around your thighs, stretching you open as he ravishes and drowns in the slick of your core. His experienced tongue lapping at your folds. His lips suction around your mound as he pulls you into his warm mouth, sucking and groaning with every taste of you. 

   You drag your nails over the wooden desk, throwing your head back with every lick, every taste he gives you. And God, you feel like you’re flying. His mouth, his tongue, his dirty words, his whole entire aura make you want to lose control. He’s everything all at once, and you don’t know how you’ll ever get enough of him now. 

   He coaxes you on, filling your ears with delicious praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like that. Don’t you, filthy Hufflepuff?”

   “Yeah…” you choke out, voice raspy as you delve into the feeling of his smooth tongue igniting a wildfire in your core.

   “Don’t be shy then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” he demands as he lets go of your puffy clit with a pop, his tongue generously lapping at your drenched folds.

   “The door—we can’t…” you whine.

   He lifts off his knees, hovers his body against yours, and starts to work you as he slides his middle and ring finger inside your dripping hole. 

   Oh, fuck.

   “Door’s locked tight, sweetheart,” he smirks, lust-blown eyes locked on you, his lips brushing over yours.

   “They’ll—ohh. They’ll hear us.” His free hand slides up your waist as his body leans against the desk, his mouth roaming up the crook of your neck.

   “Nah, they won’t. Not when I placed a silencing charm on the room,” he chuckles as his tongue traces the slope of your ear, sending more slick down your thighs.

   Of course he fucking did. You didn’t even hear him cast one. He’s just… that good. 

   “C’mon, messy Hufflepuff. Want you to come for me,” he drawls, his fingers tantalizing and penetrating as he works them nice and slow inside you, knuckles deep in your slick. 

   Fuck.

   Squelching noises fill the room each time he works you over, searching for that one spot that’ll send you over the edge. But God, he found it. And now, he won’t fucking stop hitting that spongy wall that makes your legs shake and voice cry out in orgasmic pleasure.

   “Joel, I’m…”

   “Professor,” he whispers in your ear, his enchanting voice floating through your mind, pulling you over the edge. 

   “Professor—” you hum, your fingers pushing through the sandy hair at the base of his neck, mouth dropped as pleasure starts to rock through you uncontrollably.

   “Yes?” he asks with a bite to his deep voice.

   “I—I’m…”

   His plush lips caress the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. “Come for me, pretty girl. Say my name. Tell me who makes you feel good,” he whispers deliciously slow, his melodic voice making you fall apart. “Let go. C’mon, baby. Do it for me.”

   One more curl of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You clench around his thick fingers and let yourself spill for him, covering his knuckles in your slick while you moan his name. “Professor Miller!” It falls off your tongue and rings around the room, echoing back as you lose all control.

   “That’s my good girl,” he praises as he takes you over the edge, slowly working his fingers up and down, letting you ride out your orgasm as tidal waves collide in your body. 

   When the room stops spinning and your vision isn’t blurry anymore, you sit back and stare at him in awe. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, obviously proud he made you just cum on his fingers. He’s waited so long to do it. All while teasing and tormenting you so he could make it that much better for you. 

   You should hate him, but you don’t. Oh no. You think you’re addicted to him now. 

   “That feel good?” he asks. His palm sliding over your thigh, thumb massaging slow circles into the crease of your skin. It feels… good — calming.

   He feels good.

   “Yeah. That was—nice,” you finish, eyes peeking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are nearly dazzling under the dim lights. Almost like there’s stars soaring through those gold-flecked irises. 

   You stare at each other for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. And in the next moment, without thinking, you’re grabbing his emerald tie and pulling it toward you. Heat rises in the air as your fingertips scratch down his patchy scruff, indulging in his woodsy cologne. Your lips graze just slightly against his, and flames erupt in his eyes. 

   “Haven’t had enough?” he teases as he pulls your hair softly, lifting your face up to his. His lips brush softly against yours, and it’s like everything seems right in the world. 

   Your breath comes out hot and uneven as you stir beneath him, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. You haven’t tasted him yet, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this chance. 

   You lift your chin just a smidge higher until you’re practically magnetized to him. “No, Professor Miller. Haven’t had enough yet,” you mewl out, your head dizzy and disoriented.

   He cups the back of your head and smiles, that devilish smirk curling against his mouth. “Then let me show you jus’ how good a Slytherin can make a Hufflepuff feel.”

   He pulls your lips to his and kisses you fiercely, passion consuming you whole. You kiss him back just as desperate, needing to be as close to him as possible. When you open your mouth and invite him in, whiskey and green apples envelop your tastebuds. And you swear you’ve never tasted a better combination. 

   As he pushes you down against his desk, papers fly off in scatters, glass crashes to the ground. Never mind that, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered. Right now, all he’s focused on is you. 

   He crawls over you, crowding you with his broad body, his hands roaming up and down your bare skin as if he wants to crawl inside himself, claim you as his own. 

   You frantically pull at his buttons while he helps you unfasten them, quickly throwing his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Dark hair splatters his tanned chest, his happy trail disappearing beneath his black slacks. And God, he’s as hard as a rock underneath. You can see the massive outline of him. 

   He rocks his hips against yours, tongues tangling together as you drink each other down. You could get drunk on the sweet taste of him. You’re pretty sure he’s better than any butter beer you’ve ever tasted. 

   Your body hums with desire, tension coiling in your stomach. You want him, need him like you need air to breathe. You want to feel him inside you. Grinding and thrusting until you combust around him. Until you feel his seed drip down your thighs. You’ve never wanted it this bad with anyone. But with Joel? You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

   “Professor Miller, please,” you beg as you palm him through his slacks, an audible groan getting lost in between kisses. 

   “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Wanna hear it,” he slurs as he nips at your lower lip.

   You find his top button and snap it open, finding his zipper next as you drag it down slowly. “Want you inside me, Professor,” you whisper provocatively, leaving your shyness behind just for the moment. 

   He winces as you reach in and start to work his massive cock up and down, spreading precum down his shaft. A quiet groan slips out of his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. “Fuck me. This little filthy Hufflepuff wants it bad, don’t she?” he grins, eyes dancing like moonlit stars. 

   He’s so fucking pretty. 

   “Mmm. Yes. Please. I need it. Need you,” you beg. 

   He shoves your hand out of the way and pins it above your head, shoving his slacks and boxers down until he’s completely naked above you. 

   You gawk at how massive he is. Thick, beautiful, long. Precum beads his swollen red tip. Large veins spiral like vines on the underside of his cock. He’s so big; you don’t know how he’ll fit. But you know he’ll make it fit. Stretch you until you can’t take anymore. 

   He’s going to absolutely ruin you, and you’ll let him. You want him to destroy you. 

   He lines the angry tip up with your sex, stroking it up and down along your folds, gathering your slick on his cock as you purr at the feeling. If this feels good then being inside you might end you.

   “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take real good care of this pretty Hufflepuff pussy,” he smirks darkly, eyes as black as coal. 

   He teases you slowly, dragging the tip through your folds. And when you’re about to beg for more, he thrusts deep inside with a low growl. 

   Your mouth drops open in awe as he stretches you to the max, working his thick length inside you over and over again until you start seeing stars in your vision. He’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in two; his pleasure driving yours to the finish line. 

   “Professor,” you moan as he thrusts deeper, kissing the back of your cervix. His large hands push your legs back against the wood of the desk, in a twisted pretzel shape. And when he snaps his hips again, you let out a guttural moan that doesn’t even sound like your lilty voice. 

   “That’s it. Let me hear you. Look so pretty with my cock deep inside you,” he chuckles as he drills into you as deep as he can, digging his way to your release. 

   “I—I…” Your voice fades off into a garbled mess as he fucks you relentlessly, speeding up his thrusts until the desk is shaking beneath you. 

   The squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your slick and the deep, gruff groans coming out of his mouth are almost barbaric. He’s completely wrecked just as you are. Two souls enchanted to run away in the darkness. Get lost in the indescribable pleasure of each other.

   You feel yourself nearing another climax as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours in a dance you can’t stop. He swallows your moans with each snap of his hips, his fingers toying with your overstimulated clit until you’re gasping for breath underneath him. 

   He disconnects from your lips and stares at you with pitch black eyes, ready to consume all of you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock. Let me feel you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. And the sound of that deep, melodic tone makes you want to spill right then. 

   “I—Professor Miller. I’m gonna…”

   He drags his tongue along the edge of your ear and leans in close, his voice like silk. “C’mon, beautiful. Let go. Trust me. Feel me. Squeeze me. Show me how much I make you feel good. My pretty little Hufflepuff. My girl…”

   That right there sends you over. One more press of his thumb to your clit and you’re falling off the edge. It’s like a choir of angels surrounds the dark ceiling, your ears ringing as you cry his name at the top of your lungs. You can’t think, can’t speak. You can only writhe beneath him as you come back down to earth while he calls you a good girl over and over again. He could say it a hundred times, and you’d never tire of it. 

   “Fuck. That’s my good girl,” he praises, fucking into you harder. His breath ragged and untame. His curls stick to his sweat-coated forehead, his black eyes widen, and you feel him start to fall apart. 

   “I’m not gonna fuckin’ last much longer, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” he asks breathlessly. 

   “Inside me, Professor Miller,” you beg. At the sound of his name, he throws his head back and groans loudly as he spills his warm seed inside you. Painting your walls white with the Slytherin essence of him. Claiming you as his own. 

   He falls on his back against the side of the desk and pulls you tight against his chest. And then the two of you just breathe each other’s air until one of you is strong enough to push up from the dark mahogany desk. You’re the first one to move. 

   You quickly throw on your dress and cast a charm to freshen up. You don’t need your students knowing what you and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor have been up to.

   Just as you start to smooth your hair out, you feel Joel brushing up against your back. His woodsy scent slithering its way down your spine, encapsulating your entire being as you start to fall into a deep trance again. You lean back and let him wrap his strong arms around your waist, his tempting lips kissing their way down the column of your neck. 

   “What are you doin’ later tonight?” he whispers smoothly, lingering his lips over your smooth skin. You feel his smoldering brown eyes piercing right through you, starting a fire deep in your core.

   If he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up right back where you were just seconds ago. On your back with Joel fucking Miller hovering over your body. Pulling you apart thread by thread. And you’d let him. God, you’d burn down this entire room and let him fuck you through the flames that licked at your skin. You’d burn for him.

   “Was going to lesson plan and maybe read a book,” you gulp as he spins you around, your speech suddenly slurring as he tempts you with dark eyes. Eyes that’ll swallow you whole.

   “Well, how ‘bout you lesson plan from my bed?” He quirks up a thick brow and plants a smug grin on his plush lips. Lips that taste like firewhisky. 

   “I don’t think I could get anything done there,” you laugh, a crimson blush staining your cheeks.

   “Not lesson plannin’, no. Maybe we could open the Chamber of Secrets. Get you moanin’ and speakin’ in tongues before the night is through,” he smirks devilishly, licking his bottom lip enticingly slow.

   God, he’s such a tease. 

   “You’re a bad, wicked man, Professor Miller.” You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest, taking a step back until he wraps a big hand around your wrist and pulls you back into his broad chest.

   “Don’t you forget it, baby,” he chuckles, fanning his hot breath over your lips. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

   “You’re going to make me late for my next class,” you sigh, letting him gather you in his arms as his warmth consumes you. 

   “Then be late…” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. Damn him and his plush, tempting lips. He tastes better than any sweet treat you’ve had in Hogsmeade.

   “You’re a bad influence on me,” you tsk, throwing your arms around his neck. Screw it. You’re already hooked on him. Might as well just give in to his lustful temptations.

   “Tryin’ to be,” he chuckles as he brushes a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, lingering the back of his hand against your jawline. The tension suddenly thick around the dimly lit room once again. But really, it never left in the first place.

   You graze your lips against his and give him a lasting kiss, fingers tangled in the messy curls you so desperately love to lace your fingers through. It feels like velvet as the silvery strands comb through your fingers.

   You disconnect from his mouth and smile sweetly up at him, pushing off his strong chest. “Okay, handsome. I gotta go.”

   “See you tonight, pretty Hufflepuff.” He lingers his calloused fingers around your wrist and holds you there, just so he can memorize what you look like under the moonlit lamps of his classroom. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

   “Pretty, huh?” You give him a shy smile and feel your cheeks growing bright red.

   He nods, brown eyes alight with wonder. “Baby, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

   Oh.

   “You’re not so bad looking yourself, handsome,” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a swift kiss to the top of your knuckles. And there you go blushing again like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

   “Careful now. Start talkin’ like that, and I’ll jus’ have to make you mine,” he warns with a smirk, the crow’s feet making his eyes sparkle like onyx crystals as starlight dances across his pretty eyes. 

   “So make me yours…” you whisper, hand dropping to your side. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head, back of his hand skimming down your blush-coated cheek. “You’re already mine, beautiful girl.”

   “Yours…” you repeat in awe.

   “Mmm. Mine.” He lets you backup a couple steps, reluctant to let you go just yet. “See ya tonight, baby.”

   As you pace back to the door and hover your hand over the golden handle, you turn back to him and smile. “Try not to think about me too much until then, Professor Miller.” 

   He rakes a hand slowly through his tousled curls, adjusting his loose tie around his neck. “Oh, babygirl. That’s the only thing that’s gonna be on my mind till I see you.”

   His brown flecked eyes hold yours for just a few seconds and then you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the troublemaker that’s got your heart racing a million miles an hour. 

   You’re thoroughly, completely enraptured with Professor Miller. And you fear you won’t be able to get enough of him. 

   As you walk down the now stirring hallway, dodging chatty students, you think of those captivating dark eyes. Those smoldering, beautiful eyes. Just a few more hours until you’re in his arms again, until he’s making you come undone all over again. 

   You’d let him unravel you. Make you his with every touch, every kiss, every breath. You never expected to fall for a Slytherin but here you were. Tripping and stumbling to get one more taste of him. 

   You’d never get enough. This Hufflepuff belonged to a Slytherin now. Professor Miller. The bad boy who got the good girl. 

   He was your Amortentia, and you were his.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

50 Dark Academia Names For Your Female Characters + Meanings & Origins

Alecto - unceasing in anger (Greek mythology)

Ariadne - most holy (Greek mythology)

Cassiopeia - she who entangles (Greek mythology)

Circe - hawk (Greek mythology)

Drusilla - dewy-eyed (Roman)

Eris - strife (Greek mythology)

Fionnuala - fair shouldered (Irish)

Galatea - she who is milk-white (Greek mythology)

Hekate - will (Greek mythology)

Idony - ancient wisdom (Scandinavian)

Isolde - ice battle (Arthurian)

Kore - maiden (Greek mythology)

Lenore - light (Spanish/French)

Lilitu - monstrous woman (Mesopotamian mythology)

Maeve - she who intoxicates (Irish)

Nyx - night (Greek mythology)

Orion - rising (Greek mythology)

Pandora - all-gifted (Greek mythology)

Queenie - noble queen (English)

Rhaenyra - dark reign (Game of Thrones)

Selene - moon goddess (Greek mythology)

Themis - justice (Greek mythology)

Ursula - little female bear (German)

Valeria - strength (Roman)

Willow - willow tree (English)

Xanthe - golden flower (Greek)

Yseult - ice battle (Arthurian)

Zelda - dark battle (Germanic)

Zephyrine - from the west wind (Greek)

Aella - whirlwind (Greek mythology)

Brynhild - armored battle maiden (Norse mythology)

Catriona - pure (Scottish Gaelic)

Deirdre - sorrowful (Irish)

Elspeth - God's promise (Scottish)

Felicity - good fortune (Latin)

Gwendolyn - white ring/circle (Welsh)

Harlow - rock clearing (English)

Idalia - from Idalium (Greek mythology)

Jericho - scent of beauty (Hebrew)

Kalliope - beautiful voice (Greek mythology)

Lumen - light (Latin)

Morana - death (Slavic mythology)

Nerissa - mermaid (Greek mythology)

Octavia - eighth (Roman)

Persephone - bringer of death (Greek mythology)

Quintessa - fifth (Latin)

Seraphina - fiery serpent (Hebrew)

Theda - goddess (Greek)

Umbriel - shade (Roman mythology)

Xenia - hospitality (Greek)

[inamindfarfaraway]

Wow, King’s first glyph is so cool. I wonder how he came up with that design. It kind of looks like a very simplistic Titan, or even…

Oh. It’s the light glyph. Of course.

And the circle is right in the middle of the figure’s ‘chest’, because Luz’s own true inner light is her metaphorical heart!

Are all his glyphs going to be like this? Maybe the fire glyph could reference Eda, because of red and gold and her general personality and role as a firebrand. Her hair already has a fiery shape and it used to be orange. Would Lilith be ice, then? For the plant glyph… Willow, because she’s the most Plant person he knows? Or a vine or flower stem symbol that could be Hooty with a few leaves on it, to keep it in the Owl House?

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Five

Summary - After an intense meeting at the boarder, Eris and Lucien return home tight lipped and unwilling to ruin the night, and you discover something you thought was impossible.

Warnings - angst, fluff, Rhys being a grade A prick, our favourite found family back at it again, drinking, mentions of sex, some Eris background, Lucien being a meddler, a little trip down memory lane

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

HAPPY 600! 🥳

Be careful.

Eris would ensure he was. For you, he would contain his fiery rage, he would conform himself to the mask he had to wear around those from the Night Court. He would do anything to make sure he returned home to you.

Part of him was glad that Lucien had coaxed him away the moment he had secured you inside Fir Manor in the arms of Nesta and Elain, if he saw those rounded eyes of worry, he was sure that he may not have been able to walk away from you.

Sweat coated his brow as his weight crunched at the leaves and fallen branches beneath his feet. Of course Rhys had chosen to meet where Autumn met Winter, Kallias cared little when the High Lord of the Night Court would prowl onto his lands, and Rhys wouldn't dare to stand in Summer or Spring after what he and his Inner Circle had done to both of those courts.

The air had turned cold and the ground frozen a few miles back, the cold shrill of Winter swarmed around Eris and Lucien, and they were glad that they had made the smart decision to shroud themselves in their fur lined coats for what was sure to be a frosty meeting indeed. Though, Eris was glad that he had chosen the Winter boarder to say his piece, it meant that he was as far as possible away from you.

They had winnowed most of the way, hounds in tow bar Willow who had refused him to stay with you, coiling up on the porch and watching her master disappear into the forest. Lucien had groaned when they had landed at the foot of a rather large hill lined with an array of snow-kissed trees, Eris had smirked at the sound but willed his brother onward.

"Promise me that you won't let him get under your skin." There was still an ocean full of unspoken words between the two brothers, ones that voiced Eris’ regret and longing, that voiced all of guilt and desire to make things right.

In a way, it was easier for him to convince Lucien of his true nature now that they had something in common bar their looks, it was the shared need to protect you, to let you grow into your own person and watch on as you drove down your own path.

Eris frowned softly, he couldn't exactly blame Lucien for thinking that such a thing was possible, he hadn't exactly played the role of a loving brother or male in general. "I won't, Lucien. There is nothing he could say or offer to make me even consider it." That being handing you back over to the Night Court.

It wasn't something that he needed to say, neither of them wanted to even think about it as they continued upward.

"I know that you have no reason to trust anything I say after everything I've done to you," Lucien fell to Eris' side and glanced sidelong at him, not knowing what was coming next, "But I hope you can believe me when I say that I won't let any harm come to her. I have abided by every decision she has made, all I wish for is her happiness. I want her to grow and build her own life. All I can do is gently nudge her in the direction she is hesitant to follow, but I would never make her do anything she didn't wish to."

There was a pause, a comfortable silence as Lucien came to a certain realisation and grinned, "You feel something for her, don't you?" Eris felt the heat rise to his cheeks, the cold of the air making the redness more prominent on them, Lucien laughed, "I knew it from the moment you fought me to sit next to her at that dinner," his smile faltered and he stopped walking, he examined his brother, the one whose entire façade faltered the moment he noticed that you were around, "After everything that's happened, y/n deserves a chance to find her own passions away from the influence of anyone."

"I know that-"

"I wasn't finished," Lucien rolled his eyes and continued the ascent, passing Eris who trailed him by a step, "Despite everything, I do believe that she's better off here, with you. It's like you see her like how Nesta, Elain and I do but in a slightly different way, you see her in the way she deserves to be seen, in the most candid and gentle way possible," Lucien looked to Eris with understanding, "She deserves that, to be seen and understood and listened to, to be involved in every conversation, to be able to show everyone who she really is.”

The conversation died at the exact moment when the Vanserra brothers reached the apex of the mound, spotting the three Illyrians through the break in the trees that coiled around their figures, as if in warning to stay far far away.

The mask.

Right.

Rolling his shoulders, Eris was ashamed to drown his soul in the brutal essence which he often forced himself into, and he never wanted you to see just how bad it could be. Whisps of his breath floated from his lips, curling upward and freezing in the air.

"Thank you for waiting. Lucien couldn't keep up," the namesake scoffed in response as the pair approached the boarder, thanking the Mother of that intact shimmer which told them that the wards very much still up, and very strong. Eris folded his arms over his chest, finding the nearest tree and leaning on its rough bark before drawling, "You got me here, Rhys. Better start talking."

It was clear that Rhys was on the brink of losing his sanity, his eyes were cold and distant, more onyx than their usual violet hue, his wings were furled around his sides, and Lucien nor Eris could tell if he meant them to be intimidating. He appeared to them dishevelled, messy black hair, a certain paleness to his skin, an unhinged glare in his eye.

"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he motioned to Azriel and Cassian, the latter of which looked more broken than Lucien had ever seen him, no doubt reeling in the loss of his mate, "I hope we don't keep you for long."

"Tell me what you want, Rhys. I don't have time for pleasantries," Eris plucked an invisible thread from the stitching of his coat and looked toward the High Lord.

The fake politeness was doing little to convince Eris of anything other than that Rhys surely was the most manipulative male he had ever come across, he stole that crown right from Beron's decaying corpse.

Resisting a snarl, Rhys exhaled deeply, unclenching his fists as he began a perfectly practiced speech, "My sister is not quite herself at the moment, I fear that she has made the wrong decision in residing in your court, her mental state has always been rather brittle," he took a step toward the boarder, his toes kissing the edge of that shimmering glare, "Give her back to us so that I can ensure that she receives the proper care."

"If y/n desires to return to the Night Court then she can, I'm not stopping her from doing whatever she wishes," Eris replied flatly, completely unphased to the words that were making his blood boil in his veins, did Rhys really have the gall to suggest that you were insane?

Azriel spoke then, realising that there was no realm of possibility where Eris would willingly give you back, "You stole her from the Day Court. Some would call it war-inducing."

There it was, the threat, Eris smiled, "Is that what you want? Another war?"

"I will do whatever is necessary to ensure her safe return to her home court."

Lucien moved to Eris' side, his muscles contracting with anger, "The Night Court is no longer her home," his voice was stoic and unnerving, his gaze daggered between the three Illyrians, "Eris did not steal her, she decided with her own strength to walk away from you, and she is already better for it."

Then, Rhys grinned, his power rattling against the wards around the Autumn Court, "I think you'll find, Lucien, that y/n belongs to me, she is property of the Night Court, her blood is a powerful tool that we can use to solidify our line. Since she is unmated, with no claim to her hand, it does mean that as long as she breathes, she is mine."

The words were a statement, and Rhys' voice did not falter. It was an old tradition, one marred in hatred and sadness. You were the daughter of a High Lord, and when he died, the archaic responsibility of marrying you into a suitable line fell to Rhys.

"I do suggest that you hand her over, I would hate to decimate your court, Eris. Especially when you've been working so hard to rectify the tyranny of your father," Rhys' hand drifted over his heart in mock sympathy.

There was no way in Hel that Eris would ever do such a thing, and he knew that there was no easy way for Rhys to willingly wage war on another court after what Prythian had only begun fully recovering from.

It was risky, but he couldn't let Rhys think he had him pinned to the frozen dirt like a snow fox to a bunny, "Rally your armies then, Rhysand, because there's no reality that exists where I would ever hand her over to you," then a feline smirk consumed his face, he ran his hand through his hair of fire and struck hard, "It seems to me that you only wish for her return so that no one learns what she is capable of. I intend to let her find out, and perhaps when the others realise too, of her story and what you've done, we may have High Queen on our hands."

Darkness exploded from him, his arms elongated into talons, his wings grew and creaked at the stretch like leather, he roared, an inhuman sound that sent shivers prickling down Eris and Lucien's spines; and even Azriel and Cassian had to step back with wide eyes at the sight of it.

Bingo.

With a graceful bow, Eris turned on his heels, beckoning his growling hounds whose hackles had raised to the skies, "I wish you a safe journey home, Rhysand. Send Feyre our collective regards," he called over his shoulder, not even flinching at the roar that flew threw the air.

They had what they wanted, the reason for Rhys' insistence, he knew that you had the power within you to be granted the highest honour of their world, and he had worked his entire existence to stop that from happening.

If Rhys wanted a war, then that's what he would get. Eris would rain hellfire over Prythian, and he knew for a fact that you would stand beside him smiling the entire time.

Eris and Lucien couldn't have been more relieved to be back at Fir Manor, the warmth of the estate shook their frozen bones back to life and they bristled off the jagged edges left by the words exchanged with Rhys.

Stones clunked together under their feet, but a hand on his arm stopped Eris moving to the house that was glowing with the essence of you. Golden light emitted from the windows and kissed the cobbled path before it, and girlish laughter drifted from the open windows along with the most divine smell.

"Before we go back in, I have to ask you something," Eris tensed and turned to his brother, his hair was unbound down the back of his fur coat, his mechanical eye surveyed him inquisitively, "Did you mean what you said back there? You'd go to war for her?"

Eris could had scoffed at the question, he removed his arm from his brothers grip and turned to the manor, smiling at the sight of you, Nesta, and Elain all dancing before the window, the neck of a wine bottle in your fingers and a sweet melody falling from your lips. Elain was cradling Willow in her arms who looked thrilled to be involved whilst Nesta had her own arms wound around your waist.

"Would you go to war for Elain?"

"Without question."

The sound of Eris' message being received was enough, but he spoke, "I have a feeling it won't come to that though. Call it a hunch."

Lucien hummed, not quite sure of what Eris meant, but followed after him as he paced down the path and up the porch steps, flinging the door open and grinning at your startled state as you fumbled to hide the wine bottle behind your back, "You're back," you whispered to him, the strap of your form fitting green dress falling over your shoulder which you didn't move to lift as you gazed at him.

His face was prickled with cold, his cheeks flush from walking into the heated manor from the wild winter winds; Eris shrugged off his coat and lay the garment over the arm of one of the armchairs of the seating area, pulling his sleeves up to expose his forearms, "I'm back."

"I'm here too, just in case anyone wanted to know," Lucien all but rolled his eyes at you as he passed, pressing his lips to Elain's forehead who fell into his embrace with Willow still firmly swaddled to her body, "Who's been cooking? I could smell it from outside," he delved deeper into the house despite Elain's scolding telling him that dinner wasn't ready yet.

Nesta followed the pair with a groan, taking the bottle of wine from behind your back and muttering something about saving the meal from Lucien's paws, leaving you and Eris alone.

Fiddling with your fingers, you took a step toward him, noticing a strand of his hair fall over his face and watching as his fingers moved to rake it back, such a thigh-clenching thing to witness. "How was it?"

"It was fine," his eyes still held a cold glare to them, one that was waning the longer it was fixated upon you, "We got what we needed."

"Which was?”

The nerves radiating from you were making even Eris feel nervous, he tiled his head to the side and took a step closer to you, his hands at his sides, "Not worthy enough to talk of now. Let's have tonight as a newly formed found family, and tomorrow, we can talk. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Another step forward was taken by you, the hem of your dress swaying at the motion. You were so close to him that he could feel your warmth seep into his bones, so close that his cold breath made your own cheeks flush red.

It felt natural, to close the gap and fling your arms around him, to bury your face into his chest and deeply inhale his scent like you needed that to know that he had come back to you. There was a single beat where Eris just stood there frozen to the ground, but he slowly ran his fingers up your sides until one of them rested around your waist and the other cradled the back of your head, his nose rested atop of you, his lips ghosting at your hairline.

"I was worried," you admitted, squeezing him closer, thinking that if you didn't tell him that then he would think you weren't appreciative of the position he was now in.

Eris chuckled, it was low and rough, swirls of fire danced around your figures and his thumb rubbed small circles into the back of your neck, "You can't be rid of me that easily, Fawn."

The scampering of steps made you pull back from him, and he yearned to hold you again without a care about who would see and what they would say. Lucien entered the room once more holding a beautifully decorated cupcake in his hand, a raised brow on his face and fighting a smirk once he noted your closeness, "These cakes are amazing, y/n."

"Thank you, Lucien," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, your eyes drowsy with drunkenness.

"I sent for dinner for your three, why are you cooking?" Eris asked, confused, only a fool would turn down food from the Autumn Court chefs.

Nesta shrugged, plopping herself down on one of the deep rooted chairs, licking her fingers free from icing, "Elain sent them away, says she can do better."

"Which you're now all ruining thanks to her cakes," Elain's hands were on her hips and she pointed to you, her apron was coated in flour, her hair was strewn up and messy, and it was clear that she was busy cooking before you and Nesta had pulled her from the kitchen to dance, "They are rather lovely, y/n. You should be thrilled."

Eris' heart fluttered as you turned to him, a hopeful glint in your eye, "Would you like to try one? I think you'd like them," he couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words really.

The firelight made you look ethereal, the golden flames danced in the glistening pools in your eyes, so pristine that he could see himself in them, "I'm afraid that I don't have much of a sweet tooth," your smile faltered, "I'm sorry."

The gaze he felt on his face was enough to make him warm the blood in warning to its owner, Lucien coughed, red faced and watering eyes and you turned to him with worry before he strained the words, "Sorry, crumb," a lie.

"Okay," you whistled, not at all noticing the silent daggers drifting between the two Vanserra brothers, which was odd considering how observant you usually were, perhaps it was the wine floating to your head.

Maybe you were letting your guard down and didn't feel the need to be watching everyone anymore.

Eris watched you retreat into the kitchen with Elain, waiting until you were out of view before he readied himself for Lucien, "I cannot remember a time when you denied yourself a dessert."

"Things change."

"Not with you they don't," Lucien stared after his mate, his eyes full of love and desire, full of possibility and thoughts of the future.

When the news had spread of Lucien and Elain's mating, Eris was truly happy for them, out of everyone he knew his brother was the one most deserving of that happiness, of that type of love. Eris couldn't say the same for himself, he didn't think he deserved any light after the things he had done, after the atrocities he had inflicted over the course of his existence. Having a mate was something he could never allow himself to dream of, everything he touched turned to ask, his fire and mask too cold to allow anyone close enough.

Eris had depleted his worth, he never let anyone touch him, he would cower from it like a wounded animal. Even when he laid with the courtesans, their time together was restricted to just sex, no kissing, no holding one another, just unsatisfying sex that made him bathe in self-loathing whilst his partner relished in the feeling of being fucked by fire.

There was always a part of him that felt unworthy, his father had gone as far to tell him so, multiple times. Every touch sent him spiralling into memories, ones of mutilation and marring, but when you had touched him, when you had wrapped your arms around him and held him close, he didn't feel the need to shrink away or unwind you from his body. All he wanted to do was keep you there forever, and that, that was something remarkable on its own.

You may have been Prythian's darkest secret, but he found you to be the only thing worth fighting for.

His salvation.

It wasn't long after dinner that you had disappeared from view.

It didn't take Eris long to embark on his search from you, excusing himself from the table that had long since gone quiet without your teasing stories of your upbringing and playdates with the High Lord beside you.

Eris didn't think that you would remember your visits to Autumn when you were a child, thinking that you were too young to retain the memories that he had held onto tightly. You were such an innocent little thing back then, and he remembered his wonderment when you had seen the orange ring in your eyes, displaying his own fire to compare the two and enjoying the sound of your giggles far too much.

He was sure that there was talk of a union between the two of you, he remembered the hushed whispers and beaming smiles of pride as both sets of parents gazed at the two of you playing in the corner with Lucien and Rhys adjacent. Though, neither of your brothers could steal your attention away from the other.

It was what he had held onto all of those years apart, in the moment when the light began to dim and the abuse began to accelerate, in the times when he wondered where you had gone. There were gaps in his mind, like memories had been stolen and locked elsewhere because he couldn't truly remember the last time he had seen you before the time he had caught a glimpse of your wingless figure wandering the halls Under The Mountain.

Eris wandered down the halls of the manor, following your scent that clung to the walls, absentmindedly pondering where exactly he would place a portrait of you in the vast home.

The sound of gentle whimpers entered his earshot and he stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side to listen harder. He knew that the whimpers were coming from you, they weren't scared ones, but ones of pain, and his heart raced in his chest at the mere thought of you being in any form of pain under his roof.

Knocking softly on the door to your room, his old room, the grandest chamber in the entire manor, he waited patiently and listened to the shuffle of your feet and the soft padding of your companion before the door opened to reveal your strained features and a certain hound peeking around the wood, "You left."

Turning from him, you winced, leaving the door open enough for him to let himself inside, "I get these knots under my scars, it feels like I'm being stabbed, and I just need a minute when it starts."

Eris had heard of it, of the pain residing in the bones and muscles of clipped Illyrian females, sometimes so severe that they believe a new pair are pushing their way through the marred crescent moon scars, and breaking a little when they realised that it wasn't the case.

"It's been happening more recently, I think it might be stress related," you huffed out a laugh. It wouldn't be surprising, you had gone through enough to have permanent knots twisting at your shoulders, "Mor or Azriel usually tend to them," your voice was full of longing as you perched on the edge of the chaise lounge before the roaring fireplace. Willow had hopped up onto the plush piece of furniture, spinning in three circles before settling her head into your lap. Eris made a note to scold her for that later.

The tattoo on your arm shone in the golden embers, swirls of shadow and fire intertwining and dancing around your bicep, "I can help."

"Eris," you winced softly as you turned your head to him, "I couldn't ask you to do that, you've done so much already."

"You're not asking," he moved behind you, his fingers hovering over the sheer fabric of your dress that was transparent enough for him to see the muscle contorting under your skin, "If all I can give you is some relief, then I will."

A moment passed as you thought about it, but you nodded, giving him permission to unlace the strings holding the back of your dress together and pull the straps over your shoulders.

Eris' fingers were warm against your skin, you sucked in a breath at the contact, you felt fire spread across your surface as his gently wound his fingers into your flesh, "I want to try something." When you said nothing, he took it as a sign of agreement, he allowed his fire to flow into his fingertips, the heat of them unwinding the knot in your muscles instantly, withering the demon under your skin into the abyss, "Better?"

"Much," you glanced over your shoulder, "Thank you," your eyes were dazed and you smiled at him, your own fingers running down the space between Willow's eyes and down her long nose.

A question had been poking at him the moment he had seen it, the tattoo that glowed in the light, the one that when you looked at it for a moment too long seemed to dance, "That tattoo. It was a bargain?"

A solemn nod, "Yes," you confirmed, "Between Azriel and I," you gazed into the fire and sighed, but you didn't move away from Eris when he took the seat beside you, "We promised that we would always look after one another, that we would never feel harm at the other's hand."

You smiled sadly, "Azriel and I weren't so different, we were both raised by people who didn't particularly want us, burdened with a power we didn't understand. I think we understood one another in a way no one else could, we knew what we needed and when, we basically knew each other better than we knew ourselves," your voice trailed off, "At least, I thought we did," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you blinked hard to rid your vision of their blurry infliction.

Eris watched you shudder, the loneliness and betrayal worming its way into your soul like you had realised the gravity of it all.

Shuffling closer, Eris' thigh brushed against your own, his fingers millimetres away from yours and he gave into his desire to touch you as his index finger curled around your little one. A simple action to show that he understood, and more a singular moment, you let your guard down, the walls tumbled and you felt his power wash over you, kissing your own and sewing together the brittle remnants of your essence.

The room shifted, the world tilted, and you felt a sensation you had never felt before. Looking down, you found black flames licking up your fingers, they danced up your arms and across your connected digits to curl around Eris.

Neither of you moved, you both simply gazed at it, his fire and your darkness moulding together to create a wonderous crackle of flame that didn't burn either of you. It was softly calling out, and you raised your entwined fingers to inspect it carefully.

It was meant to be terrifying, but the personification of your darkness felt more childlike than anything, it was excited and new, and it nestled itself onto both of your limbs.

"I've never seen anything like this before," Eris held your palm atop of his own, his fingers smoothing over your pulse as his eyes found you, examining your face, namely your eyes where the fire in them burnt brightly.

Eris should have cowered away from you, but he loved your touch more than anything, and no matter how fleeting it may be, he would bathe in it for as long as he possibly could. "Neither have I," you tilted your head, realisation was littered on you, "But I've read about it. It's called Carranam, I think." The look in your enlightened eyes told him of the rarity of such a thing.

"You really are a clever little thing, aren't you?"

A sidelong glance and smirk later, you drawled, "You don't even know the half of it, High Lord."

Author's Note

Here she is!!!

Hope you love this and are going just as feral as me right now 🫶🏻

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[withonly-sweetheart]

Runoff

Right after your most recent breakup, you finally notice the guy that you know better than you know yourself.

a/n: for the anon who requested this one <333 hope u like my lovely!! the description doesn't do it justice but i hope i went along the same idea you were thinking <3 spellchecking and grammar died :))

tw: just fluff and best friend leon

wc: 2k

The sun warms your faces as you wander down the grassy path, a woven blanket and wicker basket in hand. Both of your timed footsteps are light, minds drifting on the breeze that carries faint haunts of fresh blooms through the air.

"The water looks beautiful," you say with a gesture toward the distant lake, its surface shimmering under the clear blue sky.

"It calls to the soul, this place." Leon replies, stopping to take in the quiet beauty surrounding you.

"It’s peaceful," you offer with a soft smile.

"Come on." He meets your eyes with a sly grin. "The perfect spot awaits."

You stroll a little further before coming to a strip of shore beneath an old willow's swaying branches. Laying out your blanket upon the grass, Leon begins unpacking your meal as you stretch out and relax, admiring the tranquility of the area.

“Much better than the neighborhood,” you comment, drawing a genuine laugh from him.

“That’s for sure. Aren’t you glad you came?” His voice, his question is uncharacteristically nervous, causing you to draw your wandering thoughts back in one place and look up at him.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just…” Leon sighs, dropping his hands into his lap, fidgeting with them. “Last time I asked, you said no.”

“And I told you I was out with my boyfriend,” you say gently. He doesn’t move. His fingers still and he slowly drags his gaze across your body, meeting your eyes as if for the first time. They look almost golden, slanted in the dying rays of the sun.

“How are you both, by the way?” he mumbles, not really sounding like he cares.

“We broke up a week ago.”

Even though you shouldn’t, you remember when your first boyfriend broke up with you in middle school, and Leon was there, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering consolations in your ear.

You suppose you’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known yourself. Finding yourself was something you couldn’t have done if it weren’t for his influence, pushing you away from what would’ve corrupted you and towards the angelic halo he wanted sitting on your head.

He protects you, and you protect him. That’s one part of your relationship.

"I always thought he cared for me, you know?" you say with a sigh. "I guess some things are just too good to be true."

Leon turns to face you, his dark eyes catching the fiery hues of the setting sun. "Don't say that. Any guy would be lucky to have your heart."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," you tease, nudging his ankle with your bare toes.

"I'm far from perfect," he says softly. A soft breeze ruffles his wavy locks, and for a moment you’re captured by the play of sunlight through his hair. How had you never noticed how beautiful he looked as the sunset lit up his features?

Shaking loose from your thoughts, you quip, "Could've fooled me. While I'm wallowing in self pity you sit there as calm as ever. Isn’t that stupid?" You nudge him again, hoping to evoke a smile - but his expression remains tender.

Leon tilts his head curiously. “No. Why would you say that?”

“I guess some part of me knew that if I didn’t have him, no one else would ever love me.”

Leon picks at the blanket, coaxing strands to peel away from the tightly woven fabric. “That part’s stupid. You’ll find the one.”

“Don’t get philosophical on me,” you tease. “I need someone to jar back to reality.”

“I’m not!” He protests, flushing. He turns back to the lake, to the ripples steadily running towards us. “He didn’t… like… after prom?”

“Leon!” You nudge him with your foot, exasperated. “He’s not that bad.”

“I know,” he replies, but he doesn’t sound like he’s convinced. “Watch the food for me?”

“Why?” The corner of your lip twitches. “Are you swimming?”

“Maybe.” Leon leans back on his palms, as if only considering this idea now, even when you know he only came here with the idea of a quick dip. 

Nothing got him relaxed like floating, weightless, drifting along in dense water, consuming his thoughts as if absorbing his troubled mind, disappearing into the abyss below. You knew that from the absurd amount of times you’d seen him at the pool.

“I know you want to.” 

His neck turns a light shade of pink. “That obvious?” 

You nudge him forward. “Just go already. It’s already getting dark.”

Leon glances toward the setting sun, gauging how much time remains in the long summer dusk. Then, with a playful grin, he rises and pulls his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. 

You watch, fascinated, as lithe muscles shift beneath golden skin. His shirt lands in a warm heap next to you as he stretches his arms upward, arching his back like a cat awakening. Shadows accentuate his slender form while soft rays limn each contour, making poetry of lean lines that tell of wiry strength.   

Gazing out over the waiting water, Leon takes a deep breath of anticipation. You see the subtle relaxation steal through taut limbs and tense shoulders. Then he turns, catching you looking, and laughter glints in rapt eyes before he shifts his stance back to the lake.

You settle back on your palms to watch Leon glide into the waiting water. His form cuts smoothly through the glassy surface, barely a disturbance in his wake. 

Under the fading rose glow of sunset, Leon's pale skin takes on a luminous sheen you never quite noticed before. Ripples kiss the shore as he submerges fully, rolling beneath the water, only to emerge seconds later, shaking droplets from his disheveled hair. 

You trace each bead's downward path, longing to feel their chill evaporate under searing fingers. But you stay put, watching from afar as Leon floats languidly, gazing up at the colors fading fast across the sky.

A sigh escapes you, matching the gentle swaying of reeds along the bank. You envy the placid waters bearing him, lapping coolness across his skin and easing all tensions. To have someone sink into such a soothing embrace - but your place is here, drinking in the poetry of his fluid motions beneath the dying glow of dusk.

<><><><>

“You’re not getting in my car dripping like that,” you deadpan. Leon kicks the gravel of the parking lot, outlined by the fierce sun, looking just like a guilty little boy.

“I didn’t bring a towel,” he mumbles. “Just this once?”

“I just- no!” 

“Then how do I get home?” he asks softly. 

You watch his eyes, blinking down at you, guilt steadily spreading across your expression as you switch your gaze between the boy standing in front of you and your car. 

Equally steady is the childlike grin that Leon sports while he soaks  the poor, newly refurbished passenger seat. You manage to at least throw down your picnic blanket before he sits back down, eyes narrowed at you. 

“Either this or I stuff you in my trunk,” you reply smugly. 

“No, no, it’s not that…” he says, trailing off. He shakes his head and twists to look out the window, holding his face in the middle of his palm. His shoulders are drawn back, as if protecting something.

After a few minutes of silence, you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“That won’t work on me.”

A quiet huff. “It’s nothing.”

You pull up in your driveway but you don’t move to unlock the car. Leon's fingers freeze on the handle, terror flashing across his face. In an instant, you see all the emotions he'd kept bottled inside leak out like spilled ink. 

Your questioning gaze pins him as surely as if you'd seen through flesh to the secrets of his heart beneath. For a long moment, the only sounds are crickets replacing daylight's song outside. 

Then Leon snatches his hand back as if burned, stammering, "S-sorry, I didn't mean to–the door got stuck, that's all." 

“That might be because I locked it.” You smile and cross your arms, waiting.

After several long moments, his shoulders slump in defeat. You look at Leon steadily, at his hands still resting on the locked door. His panicked gaze darts everywhere but at you.

"Leon," you say softly. "Talk to me. Why did you grab the handle like that?" 

He swallowed hard, fingers twisting together in his lap. When he speaks, his voice is barely a murmur, like a preschooler admitting something wrong he did. "I just… wanted to get out, I guess."

You tilt your head, waiting for more. But you don’t expect a tear to slip from his eyes as he takes a wavering breath.

"Please don't make me say it," he whispers. More confused than intrigued, you rest a hand on his trembling arm, trying to ease his discomfort. When he flinches, you recoil, tilting your head as a sign for him to continue.

If it were anyone else, they would’ve missed the growing expectation spread plainly on your face. And it’s for that reason that Leon doesn’t persist. He knows there’s no use. He had to get to this point at some point.

He collapses against the seat, face crumpling. "I'm sorry, I-I have feelings for you, okay? I've tried so hard not to but I can't help it. And now you'll hate me and I've ruined everything-"

Gently, you lay a hand on his knee. "Leon. Look at me." 

Reluctantly he meets your gaze, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You give him a reassuring smile. "You don’t have to be nervous with me. You needed that, didn’t you?"

Leon shakes his head vigorously, tears escaping down his cheeks. "No, y-you don't understand. You were with him, you...you loved him." 

His voice breaks on the last word. You take his face gently between your hands, gazing intently into his watery eyes. 

"Leon, listen to me. We weren’t real. Nothing between us was real, hm?” He tries to look away but you hold him fast. "Why do you think we broke up, huh?” Your voice sounds dry with amusement but you can’t seem to make it sound any other way right now. “Because every time I was with him, all I could think about was you. Your smile, your laugh, how you make me feel."

Leon lets out a soft sob, pressing his eyes closed, spindly, dew-dropped eyelashes brushing against his raised cheekbones. You press your forehead to his, wiping away a falling tear with your thumb, feeling like you’ll never need anything else. Just him.

"It's always been you, dumbass. I'm in love with you." 

Before he can protest further, you kiss him intensely, and under your lips, you feel him melt, molding into your hands. Gently, you caress his cheek again, your thumb gliding soft as a veil of rain across his trembling lips. 

His eyes flicker shut at the ghost of your fingertips on his skin. Beneath your hands' worshipful mapping, Leon's trembling fades, body loosening like the reeds sinking into the peace of the lake. 

His lips, yet tingling from your kiss's imprint, curl softly at their edges - the whisper of a private smile meant for you alone. He pulls away from you, sniffling, running a hand under his nose, chuckling softly. 

“So…” Leon’s fingers lace with yours, breathing life back into the twilight air. “Guess we’re finally figuring things out, huh?”

“Took us long enough.” You brush your hair back behind your ear, eyes glinting mischievously up at him. “Who would’ve thought all it’d take was trapping you in a car?”

Leon groans and buries his flushed face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me. I still look insane, don’t I?”

You tap his chin until his shy eyes meet your gaze. “You could never look anything but beautiful to me.”

“Such a charmer. No wonder I never stood a chance.” Leon’s blush deepens, crimson against the pale hues of his skin, teeth clicking together softly. He’s shivering, you realize.

“I think you’re the only one who ever stands a chance, love.” You drum his nose before grinning. “You’re cold. Come inside, I’ll get a bath started.”

And on the way inside, fingers intertwined with his, you make a promise to yourself.

Never let him go.

[the-valianter-valkyriest]

☠️ [@sillywillow] blink blink

"Öh Göds-"

It wasn't entirely out of disgust the way she reacted this time around... Willow was... Well, if there was anyone she'd assume would fight dirty, it would be her.

Aside from Maxwell... and most likely WX. Charlie, of course. Wortox. And Walter, to a degree- with that sling of his...

... She was digressing.

"An impössible feat, but... I wöuld need tö remöve her fröm her fires... ör anything that cöuld be used tö make öne. Nöt many cöunters tö a raging förest fire, nöw are they. But beyönd that, she is... less adept than the rest at wielding actual weapönry. A... a bit töö reliant ön her blazes, I've nöticed... It shöuld nöt be hard tö end things after that... quickly, I wöuld höpe."

... Unless she squirmed. Willow... Willow wasn't exactly known for going down without a fight...

[azsazz]

Whispers in the Wind

Azriel x Reader

Summary: The Split-Fic is here!! @writingsbychlo and I are so excited for this! Featuring Tamlin's sister!reader as she navigates life after losing her family.

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 823

_________________________________________

The vast gardens surrounding the Willow manor are always beautiful in the peak of summer. Vibrant lilacs and blush flowers bloom far and wide not only across the Spring Court but live perfectly contained in the lavish garden of your brother’s estate; preened and watered daily by the house staff.

Just like you.

You sigh, pushing away from the bench by your window. Your linen skirts whisper against the floor as you stride across your room, flinging yourself onto your bed. It feels much too big for only yourself, but yet you were all you had, with your brothers and parents gone, save for Tamlin. Your heart yearns in your chest—to bask beneath the summer sun that reminds you so much of them, Neo and Wells chasing you around with teasing grins and flowers for your hair.

You miss them, even if they did fight a lot, both in training and out. Neo was the oldest of the four of you, fiercely protective and you thought him more intelligent than even the Surial sometimes. And Wells was a master of the sword, always willing and more than ready to answer with his fists. Both of your brothers showed exemplary traits that could crown them High Lord of Spring someday, but now…

Tamlin hadn’t ever wanted that life. He wanted to travel and said that he’d show you the white sands of Summer or the Mountains of Night someday because you weren’t allowed to tag along with your father while on official business. No, that was a male’s journey, one for only your brothers.

And now he’s the High Lord, because Neo and Wells are gone, killed in the night by the hand of Night itself, Rafe. 

He and his son Rhysand had moved as the shadows within the manor, silent killers that made straight for your family in the dead of night. You had hardly heard more than your mother’s plea before she was silenced, and you burst from your bed chambers only to find Tamlin kneeling in a pool of Rafe’s blood, eyes hopeless as his body thrummed with newfound power.

You don’t feel like eating, hadn’t felt much of anything in the months the rest of your family had been killed. It had been a relief to your remaining brother that you hadn’t been murdered, and he’d left the next night with such a fiery vengeance that he’d nearly set fire to the wisps of long grass in the fields behind the manor.

It has been days since he’s been gone. 

The sun dips low behind the rolling hills as night approaches, smothering the light like a snuffed-out flame. It’s both utterly intriguing and disturbing now that you know what it’s capable of. 

Tamlin had said you’d be fine when you begged him to allow you to join on his travels. Bron and Hart were here to protect you and would lay down their lives for you if you asked.

As the stars awaken, you shiver, your stomach curling in betrayal. They call to you, just as the shadows do, just as the moon does. She cries silver tears into your favorite spot in the Spring Court, aptly named Moonlight Lake. 

You shouldn’t go, shouldn’t wander through the fields like that. Nasty creatures still roam the night, you’ve heard the wolves howling at the full moon high in the sky, and the whispers of creatures that scared the deer into hiding.

Yet you can’t seem to stay away. Your fingers twitch against the soft sheets and it’s hard to keep yourself from getting up and following the moon. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a steadying breath. Maybe Bron will play the pianoforte to distract you or perhaps Hart will teach you that card game that he loses every week.

Sneaking out of the Willow manor is as easy as it was when you were fourteen and Wells had shown you how. Bron and Hart won’t bother you, of that you know. A mourning daughter of Spring that shan't be bothered, Tamlin instructed.

The grass is cool beneath your bare feet and you follow the brightest star in the sky though you don’t need to. You know the way by heart.

Silver glows, the lake beckoning you with each step. Its mercury waters are dazzling, a mirror that reflects the night sky it wishes to return to. 

A voice across the clearing stops you just before you’re about to dip a toe into the star-filled waters. 

Squinting, you can’t make out the figure more than a silhouette of darkness. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. He stands directly across from you, the lake the only thing separating him from you, and you can easily tell how tall he is. 

His voice is a caress of darkness itself, sliding down your spine like a drop of moonlight escaping into the pool below. “Hello, petal.”

[fieriframes]

[SO ONCE WE GET THIS WOK ON, FIRE UP, WE'VE GOT IT RIPPIN' HOT, AND RIGHT WHERE THE WILLOWS ARE A LITTLE THICKER. JUST TO GET IT WHERE IT'S SMOKING? THAT'S RIGHT. THEN WE'RE GONNA OUR BEEF.]

[nyxshadowhawk]

Hellenic Gods Fact Sheets and Hymns: Hecate

Other Names: Trivia, Brimo

Epithets: Anassa eneroi  (queen of those below), Aidonaia (lady of the Underworld), Amibousa (she who changes), Atalus (tender, delicate), Borborophorba (she who feeds on filth), Brimo (angry, terrifying), Despoina (mistress), Eileithyia (of childbirth), Enodia (of the roads), Epaine (dread), Euplokamos (bright-tressed), Khthonia (of the Underworld), Kleidouchos (keeper of the keys), Kourotrophos (protector of children), Krokopelos (saffron-robed), Liparokredemnos (bright-coiffed), Nycteria (nocturnal; of the night), Nyctipolos (night-wandering), Perseis (destroyer/ daughter of Perses), Phosphoros (light bearer), Propolos (guide), Propylaia (the one before the gate), Scylacagetis (leader of dogs), Soteira (savior), Trikephalos (three-headed/of the crossroads), Trimorphos (three-formed), Trioditis (of the three ways), Trivia (of the three ways).

Domains: Witchcraft, magic, necromancy, ghosts, nightmares, death, initiation, the crossroads, gateways, passage between worlds, and the night.

Appearance: [My UPG] A tall (over 6’) woman, neither young nor old, with waist-length black hair, pale skin, prominent cheekbones, a heavy jaw, and intense green eyes. She is usually dressed in black folds molded into a simple dress or robes. She has a severe expression and an intimidating presence. She speaks with a low voice.

Sacred Days and Festivals: Eleusinia (22 Metageitnion). Nemoralia (August 13th-15th). Deipnon, last day of each (lunar) month.

Symbols/Attributes: Torches, keys, daggers, strophalos (iynx wheel)

Sacred Animals: Dog, polecat, serpent, horse, frog.

Sacred Plants: Yew, cypress, garlic, willow, hazel, black poplar, aconite, belladonna, dittany, mandrake, hemlock, asphodel

Elemental Affinity: Darkness, light, fire

Planet: Moon

Colors: Black, saffron, silver.

Crystals: Black onyx, hematite, obsidian, black tourmaline, moonstone, smoky quartz, agate, amethyst.

Incense: Myrrh, almond, cypress, camphor, saffron, mugwort, pomegranate.

Tarot Cards: The High Priestess, The Moon, Death

Retinue: Empousai, ghosts of the dead, dogs, Lampades (torch-bearing underworld nymphs)

Associated People: Witches (and other magic-users), the dead

Offerings: Bread, eggs, honey, garlic, menstrual blood, graveyard dirt.

Syncretized With: Artemis, Diana, Persephone, Eileithyia, Selene, Nephthys, Ereshkigal, Nicnevin, Heqet

Hymns to Hecate

Orphic Hymn to Hecate

Hekate Enodia, Trivia, lovely dame, Of earthly, watery, and celestial frame, Sepulchral, in a saffron veil arrayed, Pleased with dark ghosts that wander through the shade; Daughter of Perses, solitary goddess, hail! The world’s key-bearer, never doomed to fail; In stags rejoicing, huntress, nightly seen, And drawn by bulls, unconquerable, monstrous queen; Leader, Nymphe, nurse, on mountains wandering, Hear the suppliants who with holy rites thy power revere, And to the herdsman with a favoring mind draw near.

Hecate’s Hymn to Herself

I come, a virgin of varied forms, wandering through the heavens, bull-faced, three-headed, ruthless, with golden arrows; chaste Phoebe bringing light to mortals, Eileithyia; bearing the three synthemata [sacred signs] of a triple nature.  In the Aether I appear in fiery forms and in the air I sit in a silver chariot, Earth reins in my black brood of puppies.

(From Porphyry’s lost commentary on the Chaldean Oracles, preserved by Eusebius of Caesaria in Praeparatio Evangelica. According to Porphyry, this hymn was composed by Hecate herself.)

Magical Invocation to Hecate

Approach, you of the netherworld, of earth, of heaven, Bombo! You by the wayside, at the crossroads, light-bearer, night-wanderer, Enemy of light, friend and companion of night, Rejoicing in the howl of dogs and in crimson gore, Lurking among the corpses and the tombs of lifeless dust, Lusting for blood, bringing terror to mortals, Grim one, Ogress [Mormo], Moon – you of many forms, May you come gracious to our sacrificial rites!

(Preserved in Refutation to All Heresies by Hippolytus)

Invocation to Hecate from PGM IV 2708-84

Come, giant Hecate, Dione’s guard, O Persia [daughter of Perses], Baubo Phroune, dart-shooter, Unconquered Lydian, the one untamed, Sired nobly, torch-bearing, guide, who bends down Proud necks, Kore, hear, you who’ve parted / gates Of steel unbreakable. O Artemis, Who, too, were once protectress, mighty one, Mistress, who burst forth from the earth, dog-leader, All-tamer, crossroad goddess, triple-headed, Bringer of light, august / virgin, I call you Fawn-slayer, crafty, O infernal one, And many-formed. Come, Hekate, goddess Of three ways, who with your fire-breathing phantoms Have been allotted dreaded roads and harsh / Enchantments, Hekate I call you

[…]

O Hekate of many names, O Virgin, Kore, Goddess, come, I ask, O guard and shelter of the threshing floor Persephone, O triple-headed goddess, Who walk on fire, cow-eyed BOUORPHORBE PANPHORBA PHORBARA AKITOPHI ERESHKIGAL / NEBOUTOSOUALETH Beside the doors, PYPYLEDEDEZO And gate-breaker; Come Hekate, of firey Counsel, I call you to my sacred chants.

[dark-corner-cunning]

The Virtues of Sacred Woods: Embracing the Magick of Trees

Note To Reader: As we find ourselves in the heart of summer, journeying along the southern road of the crossroads here in Appalachia, we embrace the virtue of earth and the magick of Old Mother Green Cap. This post is woven from the threads of traditional witchcraft, physical witchcraft, and my own path. As always, take what resonates and leave the rest. Feel free to make up or create your own correspondences and virtues as you see fit.

What is a virtue? In our witchy world, a virtue is a beneficial quality or power of something, a word whispered from the metaphysical lips of existence. It's the hidden essence, the subtle energy, the magick that pulses through the veins of the natural world. When we speak of virtues, we're invoking the spirit and energy that dwells within every tree, every branch, every tool crafted from nature's gifts.

Among the myriad stick-formed tools in the Traditional Craft of Cunning, two stand as pillars in our practice: the Wand and the Stang (or Staff). While their virtues are distinct, their roots intertwine deeply with the ancient woods from which they were born. Let us briefly explore these sacred tools, for within their grain lies the power to shape our craft and connect us to the hidden currents of the world.

-The Wand: Conduit of Power-

The wand, slender and elegant, is a faithful companion to the cunning practitioner. Its primary virtue lies in its ability to direct power and energy, much like a conductor's baton orchestrating the unseen forces around us. Wands are used to banish unwanted influences and spirits, sweep away negativity, and conjure helpful entities from the ether. When we cast a working circle, the wand traces the boundary, marking a sacred space or container where magick can unfold.

Each wand, depending on the wood it is crafted from, carries its own unique virtue. A wand of oak might offer a fiery virtue of strength, wisdom, power, protection, or aid to solar rites and magick… while one of willow could provide a watery virtue of emotional healing, strengthening love, divination, enchantment, enlightenment, or aid to rites and workings of the Moon. The wood whispers its secrets to us, guiding our hand and amplifying our intent. Thus, the wand becomes an extension of our will, a bridge between the mundane and the magickal.

My "Red Serpent" Wand: This wand is directly linked to the serpent energy of the land. It is made from Oak and has a Dragon Blood Stone, Snake rib, and Blood embedded into it. I use it as an extension of my own willpower and life force. I usually bury it under a Full moon to charge when "Sprowl" is at its peak.

-The Stang: Pillar of the Worlds-

The stang, often fashioned from a forked staff, holds a different yet equally potent virtue. It can stand as a representation of the Horned One, the dualities of nature, and the power that flows from earth to sky. In its form, we see the concept of the World Tree, a sacred axis that grants access to the virtues of both the upper and lower worlds and those that lie at the crossroads.

In ritual workings, the stang is a steadfast companion. Its presence anchors us, grounding our energy and connecting us to the land. When we walk the paths of the wild, the stang serves as a tool to gather and store land energy, the elusive "sprowl" that breathes life into our craft. It becomes a beacon, drawing the virtues of the earth and sky into our rites and rituals, where they can be harnessed and directed.

My Stang that I have been slowly working on for a few years now. It is made from Oak and the forked ends have Clear Quartz in each end. It has the Web of Wyrd Rune on the front and the symbols for each element on the back. I mainly use my Stang during laying and conjuring the crossroads for rituals.

-The Dance of Wood and Witch-

In the dance of wood and witch, we find our path illuminated by the virtues of our tools. The wand and the stang, though different in form and function, both serve as conduits of the ancient energies that flow through the natural world. They are not mere objects, but living entities that resonate with the heartbeat of the land.

Some practitioners favor keeping several wands, each made from different kinds of wood to suit various purposes. Yet, many find solace in the singular presence of one main stang or staff, a trusty ally that carries their spirit and intention.

As we continue to explore the virtues of the different woods, let us remember that our connection to these tools is a sacred bond. Through them, we touch the spirit of the trees, the whispers of the wind, and the silent strength of the earth. They are our guides, our protectors, and our allies in the timeless craft of cunning.

-The Virtues of Woods-

Note: This list is but a glimpse, for the world is rich with countless species of trees. Here, I focus on trees that dwell in my own corner of the world and the ones I know. These are mainly just the virtues of the wood and bark (not the leaves, flowers, seeds, or fruit). I highly recommend you embark on a journey to discover and list the trees within your local area, letting their virtues reveal themselves to you. Also, please take caution of any poisonous trees.

Alder: Defensive Magick, Strength, Leadership, Bravery, Divination, Healing, and Wind & Weather Magick

Apple: Love, Healing, Friendship, Divination, Garden Magick, and Harmony

Ash: Healing & Regeneration Magick, Sea Magick, Communication, Knowledge, Wisdom, Travel, Aids workings of Spirit, Passage Between Worlds, and is often the wood chosen for a Stang.

Beech: Wisdom, Knowledge, Focus, Meditation, Wishes

Birch: Purification, Creativity, Willpower, Initiation of Inception, Birth & Fertility.

Blackthorn: Baneful, Associated with Bucca Dhu/The Devil, Blasting, Defensive Magick, Setting Boundaries, Toad Magick, and Rites of The Dark Moon.

Cedar: Cleansing, Protection, Wards, Divination, Summoning, Consecration, Prosperity

Chestnut: Clarity, Focus, Justice, Encourage Longevity

Crepe Myrtle: Glamour Magick, Fertility, Youth, Peace, Money

Dogwood: Wishes, Protection, Health, Wisdom

Elder: Protection, Exorcising Illness, Spirit Conjuration, Blessing

Elm: Protection, Divine Feminine, Healing, Fae Magick

Gorse: Purification, Conjuration of Fair Weather, Discovering, Protection, Fertility & Love

Hawthorn: Associated with Bucca Gwidder/The Green Man, Dealings with Spirit Folk, Fertility, Enchantment, Wards, Charm, Spirituality, and Fishing Magick. Folklore suggests not using Hawthorn as a staff as it may employ ill luck upon walking journeys.

Hazel: Wisdom, Luck, Fertility, Wishes, Divination, Dowsing Wands, Inspiration & Visions

Hickory: Legal Matters, Protection, Protection, Wisdom, Leadership, Acquisition, Power, Wholeness

Holly: Aids Rites of Death/Rebirth, Exorcism, Defensive Magick, Potency, Logic, Power Transfer, Protection

Linden: Creativity, Enchantment, Enlightenment, Truth, Healing

Locust: Enforcing Boundaries, Binding, Defensive Magick, Enchantments, Wood and Thorns used to make pins for Baneful Magick, Appalachian Association with European Blackthorn Virtues.

Magnolia: Fidelity, Love, Hair Growth Magick, Marital Happiness

Maple: Love, Luck, Longevity, Money, Travel, Cleansing, Communication

Oak: Strength, Power, Protection, Wisdom, Longevity, Endurance, Doorways between Realms, Solar Magick, Potency, Associated with The Red Serpent.

Palm: Fertility, Focus, Potency, Divination, Purification, Protection

Pine: Strength, Protection, Healing, Prosperity, Exorcism, Wisdom, Increase of Power

Poplar: Spirituality, Change, Rebirth, Summoning, Wealth, Willpower, Witch Flight

Rowan: Protection, Guarding, Defensive Magick, Warding, Necromancy, Quickening, Conjuring Visions, Lifting Curses, A staff of Rowan protects while journeying.

Sumac: Cleansing, Healing, Creativity, Focus

Sweet Gum: Healing, Spirituality, Enchantment, Leadership

Sycamore: Ancestral Wisdom, Divination, Prosperity, Strength, Endurance

Walnut: Cleansing, Healing, Focus, Insight

Willow: Moon Rites & Workings, Emotion Healing, Love, Fertility, Divination, Change, Wishes, Enchantment, Spirituality, Wards

Witch Hazel: Chastity, Protection, Emotional Healing

Yew: Death Mysteries, Ancestral Wisdom, Transformation, Change, Renewal, Baneful, Necromancy

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• Aisha — fairy of the Ocean.

• Layla got Enchantix first. She was faced with a choice: to regain her eyesight with the help of a magical coral or to save the mermaid queen Ligeia, who suffered from the attack of the kraken. By choosing to save Ligeia and thereby sacrificing herself, Leila received Enchantix.

The main quality that helped Leila in getting the transformation is generosity.

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• Stella — fairy of the Shining Sun.

• Stella got Enchantix two when she used all her powers to protect her father, the king Radius, from the attack of a terrible huge dragon. Stella's transformation began when she fell to the ground without showing any signs of life.

As the main quality of Stella, manifested during the feat, one can note the love for her father.

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• Musa — fairy of the Music.

• Muse got Enchantix third. During the attack on Alphea by the witches of the Cloud Tower, the Trix secretly sneaked into Alphea's library to steal valuable spells. Princess Galatea noticed them and warned Winx, but she was trapped. During the battle, the Trix set fire to the library, and Galatea decided to return to the burning hall to save at least some books. The muse followed her, saying that she would never leave her friend, and received Enchantix.

Such a quality as altruism helped the Museum to get a transformation.

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• Flora — fairy of the Nature.

• Flora got Enchantix fourth. The Winx arrived on Linthea to remove Valtor's spell from Faragonda with the help of Black Willow's magical tears. The Trix received a task from the magician to prevent the fairies and, arriving at the cave where the Black Willow grew, attacked the Winx. When they attacked Flora, her younger sister Miely protected the girl, but she herself fell into a poisoned Water ladder. Flora dived after her and lifted her sister to the surface with the help of a magic bubble, but she stayed at the bottom and received Enchantix.

The main quality of Flora, manifested before the acquisition of Enchantix, is love for her sister.

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• Tecna — fairy of the Technology.

• Tecna got Enchantix fifth. Portal The Omegas on Andros have destabilized, and the Winx have gone there to shut it down. It turned out that the only way to do this was to enter the portal and close it from the inside, which is what Tekna decided to do. After entering the portal, she received Enchantix and closed it with the help of magic pollen, but was imprisoned in Omega, from where she was later returned Bloom and Sky with the help of Timmy. 

Its main quality, which is necessary to achieve transformation, is self—denial.

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• Bloom — fairy of the Dragon flame.

• Bloom received Enchantix sixth and last. Since Bloom's planet, Domino, was destroyed many years ago, Faragonda sent Bloom to Dragon Island Piros hopes that self-improvement and a lot of dangers will help the girl increase her magical abilities. Arriving on the fiery planet, Bloom met a hermit there Maya, who helped her develop her talents and gave Bloom the opportunity to merge her energy with the energy of Piros. At that moment, Trix appeared on Piros, and in a fight with them, Bloom finally believed in herself, thanks to which she received Enchantix — however, due to the unconventional receipt, the transformation was incomplete.

In order to transform into Enchantix, Bloom needed faith in herself and her powers.

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