wingedhallows

[wingedhallows]

hi guys!

i’m going back home from vacation tomorrow so i’ll be able to continue writing this weekend (i also have another week of leave) so stay tuned :)

love, hallow 🦋

[wingedhallows]

hi guys! i’m sorry for vanishing but i was at a festival this week & i’ll be going on vacation tomorrow - so i’ll be posting sometime after next week

love, hallow 💓

[wingedhallows]

i’m so excited for my vacation, i’m not even joking 😭

[wingedhallows]

𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 sirius black / 0.8k words 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 smut - MDNI (bdsm, rope play) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi babes !! hope u like this. I've never written bdsm but i tried my best - describing rope play was an experience let me tell you :) (divider cred. goes to @strangergraphics )

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The dorm room’s quiet, save for the charmed candles floating above his bed, gently illuminating your face. Sirius is busy with the black cotton rope which he’s binding with fascinating concentration around your legs. The position he’s prepping you in is truly filthy, obscene even. Knees bent and bound, arms connected to your knees, unable to move.

He finishes his administration with a soft satisfied hum, brushing his hands over your legs once as he admires his work.

“So pretty, darling.” He mumbles as his gaze swims over your form. To see you so compromised and pliant in the best way does something to him and he’s already hard, his cock strains against the soft fabric of his boxers.

“You okay?” His eyes find yours, hands braced on your knees, all you manage is a weak nod. He squeezes your knees once.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” The tone, the gentle firmness makes your cunt throb.

“I’m okay.” The words come out shaky and strangely unfamiliar but that doesn’t matter right now, all that matters is that he’s got you bound like a japanese bondage artwork and he’s soiling his boxers with precum.

“What’s the safeword?” You swallow once and rack your brain - right, he insisted on picking a safeword, an out if you ever need it. “Broomstick.” He nods once and pats your knees before he gets to his feet, he slips his boxers off.

You watch helplessly and probably drooling as his dick springs free, slapping once against his lower belly, hard as a rock.

“You use it if you need to - no hesitation.” He instructs once more but you’re already soft brained. “Darling - talk to me.” Sirius gives your thigh a gentle slap, your gaze snaps back to his face.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

He closes his eyes briefly, palming his cock once.

“Fuck, baby - keep calling me that and I’ll come just like that.” Without much fanfare he positions himself before you, lining himself up.

“You ready for me, baby?” He mumbles, eyes hopping between your face and your glistening cunt. “Yeah.” You breathe, helpless and dying for him to wreck you.

Sirius hums satisfied and pushes in, cock sliding past your folds and into you pussy - a moan slips past your lips, involuntarily but he swallows it up with a kiss which is all teeth, spit and grunts.

He drives into you slowly, letting you adjust to his size before his hand slips to your breast, he gives your nipple a gentle squeeze which leaves you whimpering, mouth slightly agape with the amount of pleasure.

“Still doing okay, my love?” His voice reaches you dulled, muffled as if it were coming through thick smoke. Sirius doesn’t stop his movements though his hand gently pats your cheek to pull you back to earth.

“Talk to me, baby - you alright?” A high pitched mewl leaves your lips as his thumb starts to draw circles over your clit.

“Yes, fuck - don’t you stop, pads.” You mumble, hands straining against the restraints.

“Not planning on it.” Sirius huffs a laugh, driving into you, skin slapping against skin in a way that can only be described as sinful.

“You like this, don’t you?” He grunts, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. “Me having you tied up, splitting you open like this.”

And fuck, yes you do.

Moans, the sound of damp skin meeting each other repeatedly and heavy breathing fills the room, vulgar and sinful.

“Gonna cum like this, baby - buried inside your tight little cunt.” He mumbles, breathless and absolutely drunk in the sensation of fucking you senseless. You lay there, tied up like a bretzel and spilling moans and gasps like it’s all you’ve ever known.

“Gonna fill ya’ up, baby - get you all full of me.” He grunts and you know - he’s just as close as you are. The white hot coil tightens in your lower belly and judging by how frantic his thrusts are growing, he’s not far behind.

With a grunt so guttural and downright animalistic he spills into you, hands gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure it’s gonna bruise. You’re not far behind, a moment later your body locks up, shakes, limbs tugging against the ropes as babbles and moans tumble from your lips, your climax crashing through you relentlessly.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers, slumped against you, still very much stuck inside you. Your brain’s soup, your limbs jelly.

“Shut up.”

[wingedhallows]

its okay take your time !! have fun in italy

— 🎸

thank u, 🎸 anon 💗

[wingedhallows]

heyy i love your work soso much, idk how i didnt find you sooner you're so talented 😭 i have a couple requests for sirius black x reader, one with smut and one without so you can decide which you're more comfortable with/which sparks your creativity more 🫶🫶

first one is a fwb smut with either bondage or toys [or both?] , even though he can be careless sometimes i honestly believe he'd be so respectful during sex, definitely researches stuff, knows all the rules of bdsm and checks up on you constantly and I'd love to see that side of him portrayed more in fics!!

second one is such a cliche but id love to read your take on sirius & reader being bffs and very obviously liking each other and everyone knows it, but they're not ready to fully be in a relationship so meanwhile they cuddle/flirt/have lots of physical touch casually. and one day they both can't sleep [classic] and they have a moment by the fireplace which leads to something idk you decide what's next loll

anyway would love to see your interpretation of either of these if you can!!

hi hi ! thank you so much for requesting! I'm adding this to my request pile 💫

[wingedhallows]

hi hi! sorry for being inactive the last few days 🙇‍♀️ I’m currently preparing for a festival with a few friends and my upcoming vacation to italy so i’m quite busy. 🌱

though i will work over ur requests soon and hopefully 🤞 post some new fics in the next few days 💗

love always,

hallow 🦋

[wingedhallows]

should i continue the new ellie series “relic of the broken throne”? I feel like it’s not really the vibe for u guys or u just kinda don’t like it, since it’s doing so bad.

i’m leaning more towards discontinuing it.

[wingedhallows]

so my new ellie series is doing pretty bad - i don’t know if I’ll continue it 🙁

[wingedhallows]

𝖉𝖗𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 knight!ellie williams x witch!reader / 3.1k words 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘 In a fractured kingdom built on secrets and silence, Ellie—an orphan raised within castle walls—sets out on a quest to recover an ancient relic lost to time and legend. Chosen by a queen who never hid her disdain, Ellie knows this journey might be her last. But beyond the borderlands, the truth bleeds through lies. Creatures stir in the shadows. And a witch with wildfire in her veins stands in Ellie’s path—one who may hold the key to more than just magic. Together, they'll brave cursed lands, forgotten cities, and the ashes of what once was. Loyalties will be tested. Hearts will falter. And the crown may not be the only thing destined to break.

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

The royal hall is quiet, save for the faint creaking of the old wood which the two opulent thrones consist of. Sunlight fleets through the stained glass windows and heats Ellie’s cheek relentlessly, though she doesn’t move - doesn’t dare to.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Her voice carries through the stuffy air, Queen Eloise is perched on her throne, nose held high.

She eyes the poor messenger like he himself is the reason for her confusion. The man, knelt before the royal couple, lowers his gaze in respect - though Ellie knows it’s fear which has him cowering before the Queen.

“Talks of Pyra’s Breath resurfacing round the lands, My Queen. The relic has returned.” The man sputters, head bowed. Ellie’s head tilts, words of childhood stories reemerge in her mind.

The story of Pyra is a bedtime story, a piece of literature to fill children with comfort in their sleep. The dragon wielder, a witch, used to walk the lands of Virethos - a wasteland now but it used to be forbidden for mere commoners, blessed by the relic of Pyra’s Breath .

It was a land so grand, ineffable for outsiders. She reigned over the lands of Virethos, to the borders of Solmere - the king’s land.

Though the witch didn’t have enough - she commanded the beasts, an army of dragons to erase Solmere’s might off the map, costing the loss of thousands. King Joel’s grandfather, late King Antoine killed the witch and destroyed the relic in the great war - or so is told.

“That’s nonsense! Pyra’s Breath was destroyed moons ago!” Queen Eloise chuckles, brushing off the man’s words with a wave of her hand.

The man is pulled to his feet, dragged across the marble floor like a sack of flour, bellowing that his words carry the truth. King Joel stays quiet, as always. His eyes are unfocused, legs crossed but his mind is somewhere else - it’s been like this for a long time, how long - Ellie’s unsure.

“Ellie. Come here.” Queen Eloise beckons her forward, her smile too saccharine to be real. Ellie has learned not to trust the queen’s expressions, she knows how to manipulate people, no matter the age.

Ellie does follow the order, she always does. She steps closer, hands clasped behind her back and head bowed.

“My Queen.” Ellie addresses her, just how she was taught. She’s made the mistake of calling Eloise mother once and the slap has left her six year old self bruised for days, so formality it is - always.

“What do you think of this…nuisance?” Eloise tilts her head, sharp eyes watching Ellie’s every move, unrelenting. Ellie keeps her eyes on the ground, voice steady.

“Pyra’s Breath was destroyed, My Queen.” It’s the truth, it’s what everyone knows and believes but even Ellie has her doubts now and Eloise knows, it’s like she can smell it in Ellie’s stillness.

“That’s what is said, yes.” The queen pauses to fix her skirt, manicured nails brush over the silk fabric meaninglessly. “But what if it’s true?” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow involuntarily - she hadn’t expected that the queen harbored suspicions after sending the messenger away.

“I’d like you to search for it and bring it to Solmere.” Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes flickering to Queen Eloise. She can feel the panic simmering in her gut.

“You’re sending me away.” The queen gives her solemn smile, a pitying little thing. “Oh don’t be dramatic - you’re the king’s most skilled knight. It’s only fitting for you to return the relic of Pyra’s Breath to its rightful owner.”

Ellie’s gaze flickers to Joel who’s still perched in his throne beside Eloise unmoving, unresponsive. She wishes that Joel would protest, that he would shield her from the queen’s tyranny but to no avail - he stays in his seat like a ghost.

Ellie’s head lowers a fraction, realization of what’s to come slowly creeps up her spine and makes a home in the base of her neck like a leash.

“You’ll be heading out by first light.” She takes a shaky breath and wills her heartbeat to slow, though like everything in her life - it just keeps going inside her chest like a wardrum.

Ellie’s things are easily packed, one woolen bag is enough to carry her possessions. Her chambers feel colder now, no longer sits the small portrait of her mother, Duchess Anna on her bedside table.

Ellie never met her mother, she was too young when her parents perished a gruesome death. Though Joel made it his mission that even at a young age Ellie would understand who her real parents were. 

Duchess Anna Williams, a beautiful young woman, not much older than Ellie is now, was a strong woman. A woman driven by her own opinions and beliefs, which eventually cost her her life.

Duke Edgar Williams was a man of high standard, a close consultant and friend of King Joel. He loved his wife and daughter, supported his wife’s wishes and intentions but his thoughtlessness and will to believe in the good of people, caused his death and that of his beloved wife, leaving little Ellie behind.

King Joel couldn’t fathom seeing his friend’s orphaned daughter grow up in an orphanage for commoners. Since neither Anna nor Edgar had any close family, Joel took little Ellie in and raised her like his own.

When Ellie was six years old, Joel married the beautiful princess Eloise of Eldoria, he was in need of a Queen afterall.

Eloise was the prettiest woman Ellie had ever seen and her sole goal as a little girl was to get Eloise to smile at her as she did at Joel but those hopes and dreams were quickly crushed. Joel’s new wife was anything but kind to Ellie, she tolerated her, nothing more.

Weeks away from Ellie’s seventh birthday, the little girl had made a painting for Eloise, a peace offering so to say. On the parchment depicted were a horse, a King, a little girl, a castle and a Queen.

Ellie, with her big brown eyes and crooked baby teeth, had looked up at the lavishly dressed woman and asked if she was allowed to call her mother. Eloise wasn’t delighted by the little girl’s requests and disciplined her with a slap to her puffy cheek.

Ellie had never cried as hard ever again as that night at six years old with a tear soaked painting depicting a wishful dream of a child.

She banishes the memory into the back of her mind, the place where all happy memories reside as of lately and stuffs another piece of clothing into the bag. With three slow strides, Ellie crosses the wooden floor to the milky stained mirror.

She looks at herself, sees the scars from battles she never wanted to fight but all of it doesn’t matter anymore - she’s to go on a quest most dangerous and it might be her last.

Late at night when Ellie’s unable to sleep, like most - her feet carry her through the dimly lit halls of the castle and to the outside grounds. The training field is quiet, save for the chirping provided by the insects attacking the oil lamp she’s brought.

This is where Ellie has spent most of her younger years, training to be useful - to whom, she’s not sure. She draws her sword from the scabbard and positions herself in front of the wooden dummy, shoulders squared, breathing leveled - just how she was taught.

“Another midnight training?” The voice doesn’t catch her off guard, his voice glides through the air like a raspy whisper. Ellie lowers her sword and catches sight of Tommy, Joel’s brother. He approaches down the stone built stairs, steps slow and cloak swishing behind him. He gives her a half smile, something comforting.

“I have to be prepared.” Tommy hums in understanding, or amusement - Ellie’s never been good at deciphering his mood correctly. He sits himself down on an overturned milk carton and pats the one beside him, she doesn’t have the heart to refuse, not when Tommy’s been the only one showing her any form of kindness the last few years.

So Ellie joins him on the other milk carton, sword already sheathed and hands clasped in her lap. “She’s sending me away.” Ellie murmurs, almost embarrassed to talk about her misfortune. Tommy nods slowly, crosses his legs in thought.

“So I heard.” Ellie takes a deep shaky breath, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. This talk, such honesty, it feels as if she were a child again.

“I wish he’d say something.” She hates how small her voice sounds, how much the little girl, desperate for Joel’s attention, still resides inside her chest. Tommy sighs softly, lays one hand upon Ellie’s shoulder in understanding.

“My brother’s sick.” Ellie knows that, everyone knows that but knowing doesn’t hurt less. Her gaze sweeps over the quiet training court in an effort to reign in her emotions, though the tightness behind her ribs doesn’t leave right away.

Tommy slips his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a dagger. The object is black as obsidian, the blade cut in ridges and the hilt is adorned with worn leather and tight seams.

“This belonged to your father, Edgar.” He starts but his voice is softer now. Ellie glances between the dagger and her uncle, adoptive uncle, though he never made her feel like anything less than family.

“He had it on him when he died. You were too young to be given such an heirloom, but not anymore.” He gently places the dagger in Ellie’s palm. Her fingers close around the leather bound hilt, gaze fixed on it. Ellie never had an heirloom, everything that belonged to her family was lost when her parents perished, not this though.

“You’re a grown woman now, Ellie. It’s time to prove that you’re more than Eloise’s stepping stool.”

Ellie takes a shaky breath and pockets the dagger, keeping it close now.

“Thank you, Tommy.” She whispers, giving him a shaky smile and she’s sure - Tommy sees her exactly for how she feels. Scared, overwhelmed and somehow stronger because at least one person in this godforsaken castle believes she’ll be able to fulfill this quest and make it out alive.

The next morning is painted orange, the sky is free of clouds and the castle is quiet. As Ellie descends the stone steps on the east side of the castle, she catches herself harboring a sour feeling.

She didn’t expect trumpets or the King’s guards seeing her off, she didn’t dare to hope but somewhere, deep inside - she did hope that apart from Tommy, someone would like to see her off - to wish her luck or even just watch her leave. She adjusts the straps of her bag and sighs softly, the disappointment sits deep, deeper than she likes.

With heavy steps and her mind swimming in negative, she approaches the stables. The wooden doors are slightly ajar and she quietly slips inside.

The stable’s air is stuffy, filled with the smell of hay and horse urine but Ellie’s grown used to it - her horse resides there after all. Some days Ellie’s sure that Shimmer is her only true friend on this planet. 

Her footsteps carry softly across the hay covered gravel, one hand blindly reaching for the woolen rope which is hung on the wooden pillar by the door. Shimmer’s head is already leant out of his stable, soft breaths emitting from his nostrils.

A small smile forms on Ellie’s face upon seeing her horse waiting for her. She reaches one hand and brushes it over his muzzle. “Hey there, buddy.” She whispers, careful not to disturb the other mare’s.

“We’re going on a little adventure.” Shimmer neighs softly, nudging Ellie’s elbow as she fastens the holster around his head.

Ellie unfastens the latch and slowly guides Shimmer out of his stable, the steed follows her without protest, rather with trust. They make it out of the stable and onto the gravel road leading back to the main road and outside the castle. Birds chirp above, a soft breeze tussles both Shimmer’s mane and Ellie’s short hair.

With a soft sigh, feeling more like finality, Ellie hooks one leg into the stirrup and pulls herself up into the saddle. Just as she adjusts the reigns, the sound of footsteps from behind catches her attention. She twists in the saddle, lowers her hood and catches sight of someone she didn’t expect, not in a million years.

Joel.

Ellie stays still, frozen even as she watches the man who raised and forgotten her, approach down the gravel road. He’s dressed in maroon sleeping robes, satin slippers and flanked by two guards who stare ahead stoically.

“Child.” His voice is raspy and makes something behind Ellie’s ribs ache, something she’s tried to bury a long time ago. She watches him unmovingly as he gets closer, Shimmer shifts slightly, his head lowering in recognition.

“I’m wishing you luck.” Ellie’s head is spinning, chest achy and fingers white with how tightly she’s holding the reins.

“Wishing me luck in not dying?” Joel doesn’t flinch, though the lack of emotions doesn’t anger her as much as it did years ago. He lifts his gaze as Shimmer shifts his behind away from him, probably to get a good look at the usually silent King.

“You’re honoring the kingdom, Eloise said so.” The calm in his voice makes Ellie’s blood boil but she swallows it down. She knows there’s no use in exploding right now - he’d probably not react.

“Is that all?” Her voice comes clipped and a little too harsh but he deserves it, he deserves the same coldness that he sent her way since Ellie was a child.

“May you free us, Ellie.” Those words make her brows furrow, her brain rack on high speed.

“Of what?” Joel averts his gaze, almost as if those words slipped without his permission.

“Of Pyra’s Breath, of course.” But Ellie catches the edge - he’s not just talking of the relic or the ancient threat to human kind.

“Goodbye, My King.” Ellie murmurs the words but Joel stays calm, always so damn calm.

“Goodbye, Els.”

The nickname makes her head snap back, breath stuttering for a moment but he’s already turned around. She watches Joel retreat back to the castle, his maroon robes catching the morning sun, making it look awfully close to the color of fresh blood.

The journey through the wasteland between Solmere and the approaching town of Thornmere seems to stretch endlessly. Shimmer’s keeping his pace, slow but moving and Ellie doesn’t pressure her mare to move faster. She wants Shimmer by her side as long as possible, after all.

Shimmer’s hooves clack softly along the dirt road, fields of dead grass surround them as they proceed further. Ellie keeps her gaze sharp but the ache in her bottoms and the strain of waking up so early finally catch up to her.

She catches herself yawning and Shimmer neighs softly in response, as if to say that he’s equally as tired.

A few miles later Ellie catches sight of a stream up ahead, a small spot of shade from a half dead tree and decides that a break won’t hurt, not if she’s to fulfill this quest awake. So she stirs Shimmer closer to the stream and barely gets off his back before he’s already plunged his muzzle into the cool water.

“Dummy, I was about to fall.” She mumbles, the horse doesn’t seem to care.

With a sigh she stretches, brushes a hand through her windswept hair and plops down by the base of the tree. Shimmer’s found a patch of green grass by the stream’s bank and munches contently. Ellie’s asleep before she’s able to get a good look at their surroundings, half slumped against the tree.

“Goodness, you’re alright?” A voice so soft Ellie thinks she’s still dreaming slowly pulls her to the edge of consciousness again. Her eyes slowly flutter open, mouth dry and brain battling with the grip on reality for a moment.

Before Ellie crouches a woman, not much older than her, hair windswept. She’s dressed in purple ropes and - there’s a crow perched on her shoulder like a pet.

The woman doesn’t look threatening, judging by the confused little smile on her lips, she probably isn’t but Ellie knows better to be trusting of a stranger.

She’s up in one leap, dagger drawn without warning. “Who the hell are you?” Ellie points the weapon towards the woman, whose hands are now raised in an effort to not look threatening.

“My apologies - I’m Y/N of Astralis.” The crow upon her shoulder croaks once, flares its wings as if to tell Ellie to back off. Astralis - witch’s lands. Ellie’s heard of the small communities of people calling themselves witches, people of magic.

Eloise has told her that those people are thiefs, crooks and overall bad people. This woman though, this ‘witch’ doesn’t look as threatening as the Queen has made them out to be.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The witch insists, hands still raised and Ellie cocks her head, her gaze sweeps over the woman once again. Definitely not a crook.

“Then what were you doin’ here?” Ellie retaliates, dagger still raised, just in case. “I saw you slumped by the tree - I thought you might need help but Saphi wanted to just leave you here. I gave her a good talking to.” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow, utterly confused.

“Who the hell is Saphi?” The woman gives Ellie a soft laugh, more like a breath and gestures to the crow on her shoulder. The crow croaks again, wings fluttering as if to say - yes, that’s me.

Ellie’s quiet for a moment, trying to process what the hell’s happening right now.

This woman, this witch is talking to her pet crow and the bird’s name apparently is Saphi.

So either she’s losing her mind or the people outside of Solmere are particularly strange. Shimmer’s not reacting to all of this, he’s basking in the batch of green grass by the water, soaking in the sun.

So Ellie decides one thing - maybe this woman could be of help to fulfill her quest, witches are allegedly welcomed in the lands of Virethos, since dragons are like kin to them or she’ll kill her.

Either Way, Ellie’s sure that this quest has barely started and it’s already costing her her sanity.

જ⁀➴ 𝖙𝖆𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖙

let me know down below or send me a message if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

(@poobugs ; @snoopyinspace ; @vxsellie ; @sanriocutie03 ; @hitmehardmommy ; @n3bula-cats ; @teags-writers ; @paradisekiss2012 ; @ssshhh-imreading ; @crying-wolves ; @ilahrawr ; @krilara )

[wingedhallows]

𝖉𝖗𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 knight!ellie williams x witch!reader / 3.1k words 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘 In a fractured kingdom built on secrets and silence, Ellie—an orphan raised within castle walls—sets out on a quest to recover an ancient relic lost to time and legend. Chosen by a queen who never hid her disdain, Ellie knows this journey might be her last. But beyond the borderlands, the truth bleeds through lies. Creatures stir in the shadows. And a witch with wildfire in her veins stands in Ellie’s path—one who may hold the key to more than just magic. Together, they'll brave cursed lands, forgotten cities, and the ashes of what once was. Loyalties will be tested. Hearts will falter. And the crown may not be the only thing destined to break.

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

The royal hall is quiet, save for the faint creaking of the old wood which the two opulent thrones consist of. Sunlight fleets through the stained glass windows and heats Ellie’s cheek relentlessly, though she doesn’t move - doesn’t dare to.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Her voice carries through the stuffy air, Queen Eloise is perched on her throne, nose held high.

She eyes the poor messenger like he himself is the reason for her confusion. The man, knelt before the royal couple, lowers his gaze in respect - though Ellie knows it’s fear which has him cowering before the Queen.

“Talks of Pyra’s Breath resurfacing round the lands, My Queen. The relic has returned.” The man sputters, head bowed. Ellie’s head tilts, words of childhood stories reemerge in her mind.

The story of Pyra is a bedtime story, a piece of literature to fill children with comfort in their sleep. The dragon wielder, a witch, used to walk the lands of Virethos - a wasteland now but it used to be forbidden for mere commoners, blessed by the relic of Pyra’s Breath .

It was a land so grand, ineffable for outsiders. She reigned over the lands of Virethos, to the borders of Solmere - the king’s land.

Though the witch didn’t have enough - she commanded the beasts, an army of dragons to erase Solmere’s might off the map, costing the loss of thousands. King Joel’s grandfather, late King Antoine killed the witch and destroyed the relic in the great war - or so is told.

“That’s nonsense! Pyra’s Breath was destroyed moons ago!” Queen Eloise chuckles, brushing off the man’s words with a wave of her hand.

The man is pulled to his feet, dragged across the marble floor like a sack of flour, bellowing that his words carry the truth. King Joel stays quiet, as always. His eyes are unfocused, legs crossed but his mind is somewhere else - it’s been like this for a long time, how long - Ellie’s unsure.

“Ellie. Come here.” Queen Eloise beckons her forward, her smile too saccharine to be real. Ellie has learned not to trust the queen’s expressions, she knows how to manipulate people, no matter the age.

Ellie does follow the order, she always does. She steps closer, hands clasped behind her back and head bowed.

“My Queen.” Ellie addresses her, just how she was taught. She’s made the mistake of calling Eloise mother once and the slap has left her six year old self bruised for days, so formality it is - always.

“What do you think of this…nuisance?” Eloise tilts her head, sharp eyes watching Ellie’s every move, unrelenting. Ellie keeps her eyes on the ground, voice steady.

“Pyra’s Breath was destroyed, My Queen.” It’s the truth, it’s what everyone knows and believes but even Ellie has her doubts now and Eloise knows, it’s like she can smell it in Ellie’s stillness.

“That’s what is said, yes.” The queen pauses to fix her skirt, manicured nails brush over the silk fabric meaninglessly. “But what if it’s true?” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow involuntarily - she hadn’t expected that the queen harbored suspicions after sending the messenger away.

“I’d like you to search for it and bring it to Solmere.” Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes flickering to Queen Eloise. She can feel the panic simmering in her gut.

“You’re sending me away.” The queen gives her solemn smile, a pitying little thing. “Oh don’t be dramatic - you’re the king’s most skilled knight. It’s only fitting for you to return the relic of Pyra’s Breath to its rightful owner.”

Ellie’s gaze flickers to Joel who’s still perched in his throne beside Eloise unmoving, unresponsive. She wishes that Joel would protest, that he would shield her from the queen’s tyranny but to no avail - he stays in his seat like a ghost.

Ellie’s head lowers a fraction, realization of what’s to come slowly creeps up her spine and makes a home in the base of her neck like a leash.

“You’ll be heading out by first light.” She takes a shaky breath and wills her heartbeat to slow, though like everything in her life - it just keeps going inside her chest like a wardrum.

Ellie’s things are easily packed, one woolen bag is enough to carry her possessions. Her chambers feel colder now, no longer sits the small portrait of her mother, Duchess Anna on her bedside table.

Ellie never met her mother, she was too young when her parents perished a gruesome death. Though Joel made it his mission that even at a young age Ellie would understand who her real parents were. 

Duchess Anna Williams, a beautiful young woman, not much older than Ellie is now, was a strong woman. A woman driven by her own opinions and beliefs, which eventually cost her her life.

Duke Edgar Williams was a man of high standard, a close consultant and friend of King Joel. He loved his wife and daughter, supported his wife’s wishes and intentions but his thoughtlessness and will to believe in the good of people, caused his death and that of his beloved wife, leaving little Ellie behind.

King Joel couldn’t fathom seeing his friend’s orphaned daughter grow up in an orphanage for commoners. Since neither Anna nor Edgar had any close family, Joel took little Ellie in and raised her like his own.

When Ellie was six years old, Joel married the beautiful princess Eloise of Eldoria, he was in need of a Queen afterall.

Eloise was the prettiest woman Ellie had ever seen and her sole goal as a little girl was to get Eloise to smile at her as she did at Joel but those hopes and dreams were quickly crushed. Joel’s new wife was anything but kind to Ellie, she tolerated her, nothing more.

Weeks away from Ellie’s seventh birthday, the little girl had made a painting for Eloise, a peace offering so to say. On the parchment depicted were a horse, a King, a little girl, a castle and a Queen.

Ellie, with her big brown eyes and crooked baby teeth, had looked up at the lavishly dressed woman and asked if she was allowed to call her mother. Eloise wasn’t delighted by the little girl’s requests and disciplined her with a slap to her puffy cheek.

Ellie had never cried as hard ever again as that night at six years old with a tear soaked painting depicting a wishful dream of a child.

She banishes the memory into the back of her mind, the place where all happy memories reside as of lately and stuffs another piece of clothing into the bag. With three slow strides, Ellie crosses the wooden floor to the milky stained mirror.

She looks at herself, sees the scars from battles she never wanted to fight but all of it doesn’t matter anymore - she’s to go on a quest most dangerous and it might be her last.

Late at night when Ellie’s unable to sleep, like most - her feet carry her through the dimly lit halls of the castle and to the outside grounds. The training field is quiet, save for the chirping provided by the insects attacking the oil lamp she’s brought.

This is where Ellie has spent most of her younger years, training to be useful - to whom, she’s not sure. She draws her sword from the scabbard and positions herself in front of the wooden dummy, shoulders squared, breathing leveled - just how she was taught.

“Another midnight training?” The voice doesn’t catch her off guard, his voice glides through the air like a raspy whisper. Ellie lowers her sword and catches sight of Tommy, Joel’s brother. He approaches down the stone built stairs, steps slow and cloak swishing behind him. He gives her a half smile, something comforting.

“I have to be prepared.” Tommy hums in understanding, or amusement - Ellie’s never been good at deciphering his mood correctly. He sits himself down on an overturned milk carton and pats the one beside him, she doesn’t have the heart to refuse, not when Tommy’s been the only one showing her any form of kindness the last few years.

So Ellie joins him on the other milk carton, sword already sheathed and hands clasped in her lap. “She’s sending me away.” Ellie murmurs, almost embarrassed to talk about her misfortune. Tommy nods slowly, crosses his legs in thought.

“So I heard.” Ellie takes a deep shaky breath, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. This talk, such honesty, it feels as if she were a child again.

“I wish he’d say something.” She hates how small her voice sounds, how much the little girl, desperate for Joel’s attention, still resides inside her chest. Tommy sighs softly, lays one hand upon Ellie’s shoulder in understanding.

“My brother’s sick.” Ellie knows that, everyone knows that but knowing doesn’t hurt less. Her gaze sweeps over the quiet training court in an effort to reign in her emotions, though the tightness behind her ribs doesn’t leave right away.

Tommy slips his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a dagger. The object is black as obsidian, the blade cut in ridges and the hilt is adorned with worn leather and tight seams.

“This belonged to your father, Edgar.” He starts but his voice is softer now. Ellie glances between the dagger and her uncle, adoptive uncle, though he never made her feel like anything less than family.

“He had it on him when he died. You were too young to be given such an heirloom, but not anymore.” He gently places the dagger in Ellie’s palm. Her fingers close around the leather bound hilt, gaze fixed on it. Ellie never had an heirloom, everything that belonged to her family was lost when her parents perished, not this though.

“You’re a grown woman now, Ellie. It’s time to prove that you’re more than Eloise’s stepping stool.”

Ellie takes a shaky breath and pockets the dagger, keeping it close now.

“Thank you, Tommy.” She whispers, giving him a shaky smile and she’s sure - Tommy sees her exactly for how she feels. Scared, overwhelmed and somehow stronger because at least one person in this godforsaken castle believes she’ll be able to fulfill this quest and make it out alive.

The next morning is painted orange, the sky is free of clouds and the castle is quiet. As Ellie descends the stone steps on the east side of the castle, she catches herself harboring a sour feeling.

She didn’t expect trumpets or the King’s guards seeing her off, she didn’t dare to hope but somewhere, deep inside - she did hope that apart from Tommy, someone would like to see her off - to wish her luck or even just watch her leave. She adjusts the straps of her bag and sighs softly, the disappointment sits deep, deeper than she likes.

With heavy steps and her mind swimming in negative, she approaches the stables. The wooden doors are slightly ajar and she quietly slips inside.

The stable’s air is stuffy, filled with the smell of hay and horse urine but Ellie’s grown used to it - her horse resides there after all. Some days Ellie’s sure that Shimmer is her only true friend on this planet. 

Her footsteps carry softly across the hay covered gravel, one hand blindly reaching for the woolen rope which is hung on the wooden pillar by the door. Shimmer’s head is already leant out of his stable, soft breaths emitting from his nostrils.

A small smile forms on Ellie’s face upon seeing her horse waiting for her. She reaches one hand and brushes it over his muzzle. “Hey there, buddy.” She whispers, careful not to disturb the other mare’s.

“We’re going on a little adventure.” Shimmer neighs softly, nudging Ellie’s elbow as she fastens the holster around his head.

Ellie unfastens the latch and slowly guides Shimmer out of his stable, the steed follows her without protest, rather with trust. They make it out of the stable and onto the gravel road leading back to the main road and outside the castle. Birds chirp above, a soft breeze tussles both Shimmer’s mane and Ellie’s short hair.

With a soft sigh, feeling more like finality, Ellie hooks one leg into the stirrup and pulls herself up into the saddle. Just as she adjusts the reigns, the sound of footsteps from behind catches her attention. She twists in the saddle, lowers her hood and catches sight of someone she didn’t expect, not in a million years.

Joel.

Ellie stays still, frozen even as she watches the man who raised and forgotten her, approach down the gravel road. He’s dressed in maroon sleeping robes, satin slippers and flanked by two guards who stare ahead stoically.

“Child.” His voice is raspy and makes something behind Ellie’s ribs ache, something she’s tried to bury a long time ago. She watches him unmovingly as he gets closer, Shimmer shifts slightly, his head lowering in recognition.

“I’m wishing you luck.” Ellie’s head is spinning, chest achy and fingers white with how tightly she’s holding the reins.

“Wishing me luck in not dying?” Joel doesn’t flinch, though the lack of emotions doesn’t anger her as much as it did years ago. He lifts his gaze as Shimmer shifts his behind away from him, probably to get a good look at the usually silent King.

“You’re honoring the kingdom, Eloise said so.” The calm in his voice makes Ellie’s blood boil but she swallows it down. She knows there’s no use in exploding right now - he’d probably not react.

“Is that all?” Her voice comes clipped and a little too harsh but he deserves it, he deserves the same coldness that he sent her way since Ellie was a child.

“May you free us, Ellie.” Those words make her brows furrow, her brain rack on high speed.

“Of what?” Joel averts his gaze, almost as if those words slipped without his permission.

“Of Pyra’s Breath, of course.” But Ellie catches the edge - he’s not just talking of the relic or the ancient threat to human kind.

“Goodbye, My King.” Ellie murmurs the words but Joel stays calm, always so damn calm.

“Goodbye, Els.”

The nickname makes her head snap back, breath stuttering for a moment but he’s already turned around. She watches Joel retreat back to the castle, his maroon robes catching the morning sun, making it look awfully close to the color of fresh blood.

The journey through the wasteland between Solmere and the approaching town of Thornmere seems to stretch endlessly. Shimmer’s keeping his pace, slow but moving and Ellie doesn’t pressure her mare to move faster. She wants Shimmer by her side as long as possible, after all.

Shimmer’s hooves clack softly along the dirt road, fields of dead grass surround them as they proceed further. Ellie keeps her gaze sharp but the ache in her bottoms and the strain of waking up so early finally catch up to her.

She catches herself yawning and Shimmer neighs softly in response, as if to say that he’s equally as tired.

A few miles later Ellie catches sight of a stream up ahead, a small spot of shade from a half dead tree and decides that a break won’t hurt, not if she’s to fulfill this quest awake. So she stirs Shimmer closer to the stream and barely gets off his back before he’s already plunged his muzzle into the cool water.

“Dummy, I was about to fall.” She mumbles, the horse doesn’t seem to care.

With a sigh she stretches, brushes a hand through her windswept hair and plops down by the base of the tree. Shimmer’s found a patch of green grass by the stream’s bank and munches contently. Ellie’s asleep before she’s able to get a good look at their surroundings, half slumped against the tree.

“Goodness, you’re alright?” A voice so soft Ellie thinks she’s still dreaming slowly pulls her to the edge of consciousness again. Her eyes slowly flutter open, mouth dry and brain battling with the grip on reality for a moment.

Before Ellie crouches a woman, not much older than her, hair windswept. She’s dressed in purple ropes and - there’s a crow perched on her shoulder like a pet.

The woman doesn’t look threatening, judging by the confused little smile on her lips, she probably isn’t but Ellie knows better to be trusting of a stranger.

She’s up in one leap, dagger drawn without warning. “Who the hell are you?” Ellie points the weapon towards the woman, whose hands are now raised in an effort to not look threatening.

“My apologies - I’m Y/N of Astralis.” The crow upon her shoulder croaks once, flares its wings as if to tell Ellie to back off. Astralis - witch’s lands. Ellie’s heard of the small communities of people calling themselves witches, people of magic.

Eloise has told her that those people are thiefs, crooks and overall bad people. This woman though, this ‘witch’ doesn’t look as threatening as the Queen has made them out to be.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The witch insists, hands still raised and Ellie cocks her head, her gaze sweeps over the woman once again. Definitely not a crook.

“Then what were you doin’ here?” Ellie retaliates, dagger still raised, just in case. “I saw you slumped by the tree - I thought you might need help but Saphi wanted to just leave you here. I gave her a good talking to.” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow, utterly confused.

“Who the hell is Saphi?” The woman gives Ellie a soft laugh, more like a breath and gestures to the crow on her shoulder. The crow croaks again, wings fluttering as if to say - yes, that’s me.

Ellie’s quiet for a moment, trying to process what the hell’s happening right now.

This woman, this witch is talking to her pet crow and the bird’s name apparently is Saphi.

So either she’s losing her mind or the people outside of Solmere are particularly strange. Shimmer’s not reacting to all of this, he’s basking in the batch of green grass by the water, soaking in the sun.

So Ellie decides one thing - maybe this woman could be of help to fulfill her quest, witches are allegedly welcomed in the lands of Virethos, since dragons are like kin to them or she’ll kill her.

Either Way, Ellie’s sure that this quest has barely started and it’s already costing her her sanity.

જ⁀➴ 𝖙𝖆𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖙

let me know down below or send me a message if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

(@poobugs ; @snoopyinspace ; @vxsellie ; @sanriocutie03 ; @hitmehardmommy ; @n3bula-cats ; @teags-writers ; @paradisekiss2012 ; @ssshhh-imreading ; @crying-wolves ; @ilahrawr ; @krilara )

[wingedhallows]

guys - i’m getting back to writing today !! 💗

[wingedhallows]

starting an hour early to cover shifts should be illegal - just saying 🥴

[wingedhallows]

Could you do please Abby Anderson with her tiny butch gf ? talking like 5’0) whos so chivalrous and (surprisingly) strong shes just like ‘your my favorite leprechaun, and a very hot one’ 

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 abby anderson x butch!reader / 0.5k words 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 fluff (butch girlfriend builds abby a closet) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi hey! thank you for requesting! i hope u like it (divider cred. @saradika-graphics)

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

If ikea’s a hellscape, than building its furniture is the torture you endure down there. The gigantic box is half open, a box cutter in your hand and Abby, the love of your life, is perched on the stool by the window watching the whole ordeal. 

You love her, you really do but she’s not participating in this and you being the idiot that you are had told her not to worry - you’d handle it.

Big fat lie, the screws are somewhere, the wood looks nothing like the show room item and the manual was apparently made by someone with dementia.

Though you power through - you lift the wooden blanks out of the box, the screws in a little plastic baggy which has seen better days and open up the manual next to it all as if it’ll actually help anything.

Abby watches, phone in one hand and a can of coke in the other, perched on the stool.

She bites her lip, tries her best not to drool but honestly - it’s damn hard. It’s torture watching the shirt cling to your back, to watch how your hair clings to your forehead with all the effort and don’t get her started on how your biceps flex when you lift the door to fix it onto the hinges.

Despite your size, you manage to lift and move and build things, and it does things to Abby.

Despite feels a bit degrading, you’re smaller than her, yes but nonetheless Abby manages to feel like a schoolgirl every time she sees you work manually, when she sees you lift heavy things and watches sweat build on the nape of your neck which she isn’t even the cause of. 

“What’re you starin’ for?” Your voice snaps her out of her daydreaming, though her eyes snap right back to your biceps like she can’t help it.

“Just admiring my favorite little leprechaun.” She grins, phone already lifting to snap a picture she’ll look at when she’s feeling down, like a little pick me up.

”Leprechaun? Take that back!” Your outburst makes Abby chuckle and the pose - hands on your hips, doesn’t really help your case. She tilts her head, gaze shamelessly skimming over your body.

“I said what I said.” She watches you shake your head, lips in the cutest pout and get back to building the wooden closet.

”You’re lucky you’re cute.” You mutter as you line up the drill. Abby licks her lips at the flexing muscles and hums satisfied.

“I love you too, short king.” That earns her an eye roll and a scoff

“Dumbass” but Abby wouldn’t have it any other way.

[wingedhallows]

not the intro scene to relic of a broken throne being over 1 k words 🥴

[wingedhallows]

𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 james potter x reader / 0.5k words 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 smut - MDNI (quickie in a supply shack, public sex, almost getting caught) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hey, babes - so this is the last drabble from my smut special! i'm almost sad that it's over but i hope u enjoy this anyways. (divider cred. @bbyg4rlhelps )

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓-𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

Your back connects to the wooden wall behind you with a soft thunk, his lips on your throat and hands already hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited all day for this.” James mumbles against skin, one hand already working to open his fly. You hang there helplessly, arms wrapped around his neck and your heart trying to escape your ribcage.

Fucking in the quidditch supply shack might be the most risky and equally stupid thing you two’ve ever done, yet - it’s got your heart racing like nothing before.

His hand finally frees his dick, pumps it once, twice before his fingers slip your already drenched panties. The shadow of a smirk forms on his face at the find, at the knowledge that you’re just as desperate for a good fuck as he is.

Then, without much fanfare, he pushes into you - slow and steady. He swallows your moan with his mouth, lips connecting in a wet, hot kiss. Teeth and tongues clashing in a desperate dance. Your hands fist his hair as he pumps into you, his hips connecting with yours. Skin slaps and moans fill from your lips, obscenity fills the little wooden shack.

Then, like a shot of clarity, the supply closet opens, a stream of light falls over the shelves. You two are hidden behind a row of shelves, at the very back but the threat of being exposed sits heavy in your chest.

James halts his movements, dick still deeply buried inside your cunt and the proximity forces a whimper from your lips. There’s movement, someone complaining about practice in this heat but all you focus on is James hand now tightly clasped over your mouth, his eyes searching yours.

Then, like this torture, him being buried inside of you while there are actively other students rummaging through the hut, he starts moving again.

His cock pumps slowly and cruelly in and out of your pussy. Your eyebrows furrow, hands fisting his cloak. He doesn’t stop, no, he keeps going. The two students rummage through a huge trunk, absolutely unaware of what’s happening two shelves over.

You can feel it though, the coil in your lower belly slowly but surely tightening. James is close too, you can tell. His lower lip’s caught between his lips in an attempt not to make a sound.

He picks his pace up a little, just enough for skin not to slap against skin. His hand stays over your mouth, one hand of yours is clasping his wrist desperately as your orgasm approaches at a rapid speed. 

Then, without warning, it crashes over you - hot and fast and for a moment all you feel is his cock still pumping into your cunt, rapid movement. A weak whimper escapes you as the pleasure washes over you, James follows a moment later, eyes shut tightly and throat bobbing with the effort.

“What was that?” One of the students by the trunk mutters to the other. “Don’t know - animal, probably.”

[wingedhallows]

trying to write in this heat is hell 🥴