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thecharacterchronicler · 1 year ago

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Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

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juleswritesstuff · 1 year ago

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Relax

Poly!JegulusxFem!Reader

warning: smut

Hi ! This is the first smut fic that I'm more than satisfied with, so I really hope you will enjoy it 💗

English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You were stressed.

You were so fucking stressed, that you either weren't even able to function properly due to sleep deprivation, or you were a nightmare to be around, snapping about every little thing.

James and Regulus noticed, obviously.

They always noticed when there was something wrong with you.

Regulus was too observant for his own good, and James had such empathy that he could sense the slightest changes in your mood from a mile away.

And, maybe, the fact that you had literally screamed at an owl for interrupting your studying when the poor bird was just trying to deliver some mail to its owner in the middle of the Great Hall could've been an indicator as well, you weren't sure, really.

So when they basically cornered you in your dorm room, locking the door with a charm and sporting twin expressions of concern, you knew it was probably worse than you had noticed.

“I know, I know. I just need to finish this essay and then I'll be all yours, ok ?” you say as you retrieve the book you need for your paper. You try to walk past them to reach the door but, predictably, they stop you.

“Where do you think you're going ?” James questions, raising an eyebrow.

“To the library James, where else would I be fucking going ?” you snarl.

Regulus gives you a pointed look, and your shoulders sag in response.

You knew you were being a bit difficult to deal with, and hurting the two boys you loved the most in the world was the last thing you wanted. But all the pressure you had been under the past few weeks was catching up to you and you were a ticking bomb ready to explode.

“Sorry. I'm sorry Jamie, but I really need to finish this essay” you say with a pleading look, begging him with your eyes to let you go.

“You've been in the library all day everyday for the past week, Y/n. Don't you think it's time for a break ?” Regulus asks. His voice is so gentle and so delicate that you really just want to curl into a ball and cry.

“I can't” you say sighing “the essay is due Thursday. I only have two days to work on it, I can't afford to waste time” you say as your hands run through your hair in frustration.

“So spending time with us would be time wasted ?” the Gryffindor asks, lifting his eyebrows as a flash of disbelief passes through his eyes.

“Yes !” You scream in anger, and only then you realize the gravity of your words. It takes one look at James’ hurt expression, and Regulus’ cold stare.

“I mean, no ! That's not-” You let out a shaky breath as you sit on the bed, your throat tight. “That is not what I meant, I swear. You know it, you know I didn't mean that”

Your head is hung low and you can't even look at them in the face.

You were feeling like shit, but that didn't mean that you had to make them feel awful too.

You felt guilt crawling up to every fiber of your body.

“I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch” you say, and you feel your eyes start to water, gaze still glued to the floor of your room.

Your eyes fix on Regulus as he kneels down in front of you, searching your gaze until it locks in his, and you're not able to pull away from the stormy gray of his eyes.

“You're not being a bitch, my love. You're just stressed. You need to relax” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, letting the pads of his fingers dance on the skin of your cheek.

“I'm not stressed, I promise I can manage until-”

“Baby, you told a second year to fuck off because he tripped in front of you, and made you late for class” James says with an humorless chuckle as he sits down on the bed next to you.

Your eyes snap to his, incredulous.

“I- No that's-” you look at him, horrified “Did I ?”

He doesn't answer, but the look of pity and worry on his face tells you everything.

You didn't even remember. And a second year ? They were basically a child. You cussed out a bloody child.

You needed to get a grip, and apologize. Oh, you needed to apologize so much.

“I'm so sorry, I-”

“It's ok, Y/n. Really. You're under a lot of pressure and no one blames you for being a bit snappy, but you need a break” Regulus says, coming up to sit on the bed too, together with you and James.

“But-”

“Let me rectify. You need a break now” he says, and all the protests that were ready to come out of your mouth die in your throat.

“You're right” you say beyond exhausted “and, trust me, I know you are but the essay-”

“Remus will handle it” James says nonchalantly, not even batting an eye.

“What ?” you ask confused, blinking rapidly.

“You two have Divination together, don't you ? He will be more than happy to help you with your paper” he states, grinning slightly.

“But James-” you try to protest. You don't want Remus to do extra work just because you couldn't handle a bit of stress.

“No ‘buts’, darling. He's already on it” he says. His arm lifts up to move your hair from your shoulder, exposing your neck.

“What do you mean he's already on it ?” You ask confused as you try not to shudder at the contact of his fingers with the sensitive skin of your throat. And then your eyes go wide as it clicks on your brain.

Oh, these two.

“You planned this, didn't you ?” you ask, bewildered, as you turn to Regulus.

You would expect something like this from James, sure, he was the king of interventions when something was wrong.

But Regulus ?

Damn, you must've been a real nightmare to be around.

“I told you” he says, inching closer and closer, until your lips are a breath away “you need to relax” he breathes, and then he is kissing you so deeply that the air gets knocked out of your lungs.

His lips are soft, so soft, and needy, and hungry and everything you needed in that moment.

You part your lips and his tongue slips in, caressing yours as he deepens the kiss even more and a soft moan leaves your mouth, because, fucking hell, you missed this, and you missed him and his relentless mouth as it works against yours, and the way his teeth graze your bottom lip, softly, sucking right after in a soothing manner.

And you missed James and his mouth on your neck, where he knew exactly where to kiss, to lick, to gently suck and taste your skin, as more delightful sounds leave your lips, making your head spin, as his wonderful hands travel all over your body and make you squirm and shiver in the best way.

“So this is your idea of relaxation ?” you ask breathlessly as you part from Regulus’ lips only to feel them trace a path from the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, then your jaw, and ending on your neck, on the exact place opposite to James, and he starts licking too. You could swear you were in heaven as breathless whimpers escaped from your kiss bruised lips.

“I'd say it's a pretty good idea, don't you think baby ?” James asks, lifting his head from your neck to inch closer to your mouth.

“Absolutely” you and Regulus answer in a chorus. And you would've laughed in any other situation, really, but then James' lips collided with yours and every thought in your brain just ceased to exist.

It was just him, and his fantastic, amazing, wonderful lips as they chased yours hungrily.

“Shit, I- missed this” you say in between kisses, as soft needy sounds echo through the room.

“Tell us about it” Regulus says with a chuckle, lifting his head from your neck.

His eyes are hazy, as are yours and James’, and his lips are swollen, and red, and plump and-

“Don't be mean Reggie” James says, leaving your lips alone to focus on your jaw. His tone doesn't have any bark, he's just teasing.

“Oh, but you like it when I'm mean, don't you ?” The Slytherin teases further, and in a heartbeat they're kissing, devouring each other’s mouths like they were starved.

It's a lot of tongue, and a lot of teeth, and a lot of lust and fire, and you were left speechless in front of such a sight.

Salazar only knows how much you had missed this, missed them.

How could you give so much of your time to essays and papers, and neglect the amazing boys you hand in front of you ?

You must’ve been crazy, really.

“Enjoying the show, love ?” James asks with a smirk as he trails kisses down Regulus' neck.

“You know I always do” you say, backing up a bit farther on the bed and taking off your uniform, because there were definitely too many fucking clothes in the way of your 'relaxation'.

“James, baby, your mouth is a gift sent from heaven, trust me” Regulus says, voice shaking from pleasure as he pushes James away gently “but you do remember who this is about, right ?”

“As if I could ever forget” James says with a grin and they both turn to you and notice that you're halfway undressed, the first buttons of your shirt undone and your legs pressed together so embarrassingly tight.

Your cheeks are flushed and your lips are plump and bruised and you're on cloud nine, because after a horrible week full of no Regulus and no James they're now both in front of you, taking each other’s clothes off.

Oh, to be graced by this sight every minute of every day for the rest of your life.

And Merlin, you really need to thank whoever invented Quidditch, because-

“Bloody hell, you both look like you were sculpted by the Gods” you say as your mouth waters. Their bodies are a work of art, two of the seven wonders of the earth. All those lean muscles, slender waists and their backs.

Oh God, their backs.

You wanted to swallow them whole.

Both of them, preferably at the same time.

They grin at your comment, and then they're both on the bed by your side, James on your right and Regulus on your left.

“Speaking of being sculpted by Gods��” James says as his hands go to your shirt to unbutton the remaining buttons, and then Regulus helps you take it off completely, leaving a few open mouthed kisses on your neck as he does.

“Lay back baby, would you ?” the Slytherin asks gently, but his voice is so low and so full of lust and desire that a shiver ripples through your whole body.

You don't even notice James unclasping your bra before your back makes contact with the bed beneath you.

“Oh, look at you. So perfect, so fucking perfect” the Gryffindor whispers on your lips before kissing you and taking you to a whole other world.

You can feel Regulus’ mouth tracing your neck, leaving marks you were sure would be every shade of red and purple by the following day.

He gives attention to every inch of your skin as James makes sure to leave you breathless, and senseless, just by swiping his tongue against yours.

Then you feel Regulus lips on your breast and your head starts spinning, the breath is knocked out of your lungs and moans of pure bliss fill the room.

“Fuck- Reggie-” you whimper on James’ mouth.

Your hand goes to Regulus’ hair, cradling your fingers through it as he delicately sucks on the sensitive skin of your nipple, leaving tiny kitten licks, soft kisses, light grazes of his teeth, and then the gentle suction begins again and you could literally melt.

“Merlin, baby, the sounds you make” James whispers on your lips and then proceeds to make his way down, hovering over your other breast and then diving in, with Regulus’ same gentleness.

The warmth of their mouths on your sensitive skin, the feeling of their back muscles under your hands as you let them roam on their bodies, feeling every curve, every chiseled corner, it was a feeling you missed for a week.

And now it's here, they're here, in front of you, and you could literally die on the spot and be happy.

But they seem to disagree as they both lift their heads up, sharing a languid kiss that makes you even wetter than you already are.

Because, fucking hell, you were drenched since the first time they put their lips on you today.

You went on for so long without feeling their touch that as soon as their skin came in contact with yours your body started burning, finally alive again.

They break apart, slowly, and without saying a word they start going down, and down, and down, leaving open mouthed kisses on your stomach, on your hips, on your thighs.

“You don't have to” you tell them, because really they don't. Up until that moment everything had been about you. You wanted them to feel good too. You wanted to make them feel good.

“But we want to” Regulus says as he leaves kisses on your inner thigh. Soft, gentle, delicate kisses. James does the same on your other thigh.

“Do you want to ?” the Gryffindor asks, slightly lifting his head from your thighs to see your answer.

“I really fucking do” you admit, your hands in their hair, fingers cradling softly through their locks.

“Perfect” says Regulus, inching closer and closer to where you need him, need them, the most “now be a good girl, and keep your legs spread for us, ok ? Don't think about anything. Let loose baby, you deserve it”

And then he dives in, licking a long strip along your folds as your world shakes with the power of ten thousand earthquakes.

The moan you let out could probably be heard from a mile away, but you couldn't give less than a shit, because Regulus is eating you out like it's his last meal. He's ravenous, and eager, and gentle at the same time, and so so good, and-

“Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck” your curses mix with whimpers and moans and you never want it to stop, ever. You wish you could remain in this bliss for eternity.

And then Regulus opens his mouth.

“James, James, Jamie, come here love” he says breathlessly. Mouth covered in your essence and eyes hazy and a fucked out expression on his face.

You swear you could come on the spot.

James, who had been busy worshiping your thighs, doesn't let Regulus tell him twice.

At the feeling of James’ tongue right on your little bundle of nerves they're so familiar with, you see stars, you see whole new universes.

“Fuck- you taste so good, baby” he moans.

“So sweet”

“So fucking sweet”

You arch your back as moans keep tumbling out of your lips.

You're breathless, a mass of choked out sounds and incoherent words. You're burning alive, the fire in your veins so strong and powerful that you feel like you could melt.

And then you make the mistake of looking down at them, right between your thighs, as they feast on your pussy like they were born for it.

“Oh, fuck- I'm-” you don't even have the time to finish your sentence because both their tongues are on that sweet sweet spot that makes you see stars, sucking gently, and in a heartbeat the coil in your tummy snaps and you not only see stars, you see an entire galaxy.

Finally, after a week of pure torture, you find yourself in heaven with the two most beautiful angels right between your thighs.

Your breath is ragged, you're breathing heavily, and you're the most relaxed and content you had ever been in the past few days.

Your body feels like jelly, your legs shaking slightly.

You must've zoned out a bit after the most earth-shattering orgasm you've had in a while, because James and Regulus were now laying next to you, gently caressing your hair in a soothing manner.

“Welcome back” James says with the most beautiful smile ever.

“Was I out for long ?” you ask, blinking slowly.

The three of you are under the covers now, still very naked, and still very happy.

“Ten seconds max” Regulus tells you, his eyes soft, a fond expression on his face.

Merlin, he's so beautiful.

They're both so beautiful.

“You can sleep, love, it's okay” the Gryffindor says, as he softly strokes your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“But-”

“Everything is clean, we took care of it, as always” Regulus interrupts you sweetly.

You really had the best boyfriends in the world.

“God, I love you so much” you say sincerely.

“Oh, really ? Wouldn't have guessed that. What do you say, Reg ? Did you notice ?” James says teasingly as a grin grows on his lips.

“Would've never been able to guess, honestly” says the Slytherin, equally as teasing James.

“You twats, I was being serious” you say and then you realize your mistake.

“Don't you even try to make that joke right now” you warn them, especially James, who makes the gesture of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, but he has the stupidest most adorable smile on his face.

“We love you too, darling” says Regulus “but I think you should sleep now. It's getting late”

“Will you stay here ?” you ask, hopeful.

“Of course, love” James assures you.

And that's how you fall asleep that night.

In a tangle of limbs and bodies, between your two very personal angels.

Divination essay long forgotten.

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himegureisu · 1 year ago

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The Gift

Summary: Out of nowhere, your husband receives a gift from you.

A/N: This came to me last night after thinking of what type of mail people receive. Here's one I hope you enjoy.

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

The Owl Postal Service in Hogwarts was, if not, consistent in their delivery time.

This time being, the hour after breakfast started for everyone to ensure that no disruptions, except important missives, were to be received during class hours.

Your tawny barn owl sailed through the Great Hall, over the heads of students and staff, and landed on the High Table in front of its’ intended recipient, your husband, their dark and grumpy Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

It was uncommon for the Potions’ Professor to receive anything but Potions’ ingredients, his usual Potions’ Journal subscription, or official mail either from the Ministry or the Order so the package, a neatly wrapped gift in royal green paper, silver ribbon, and a tag attached, accompanied by a letter in your distinct handwriting was bound to attract attention.

“Is there a special occasion?” the Headmaster’s eyes twinkled upon the sight of the young Potions’ Master quite confused,

“No,” Severus answered, “Not that I know of,”

His thoughts a mile a minute through his brain, slowly, internally panicking. His eyes locked at the present in front of him. Did he forget YOUR birthday? God no, you’d thoroughly celebrated every time the day came around. Did he forget his birthday? Did he forget an anniversary? Did he forget a muggle holiday that you loved to celebrate? No, so what was this doing here?

“It’s wrapped beautifully,” Minerva remarked, from across Dumbledore, “Will you open it?”

He does. First, the letter.

“Sev,” your voice echoed through his brain, “I know you’re probably trying to think of any reason why I would send a gift to you on a normal day.”

You know him far too well.

“Just stop. Do I need a reason to send a gift to the one I love when I feel like it?” a soft smile slowly formed on his lips as he read that line, his colleagues’ interest piqued at the change, “It’s from our holiday and other events, I hope you like it. I know I did. I love you, I’ll see you when I get home,”

Your letter was swiftly tucked in his robes after then taking the package from your owl. Severus proffered a treat for them, and they happily ate before it perched itself on his shoulder. His hands gently tugged on the silver to unwrap the gift.

His initials and yours, on the cover of a leather-bound enchanted photo album.

On the first page of your story, the title page, if the album was a muggle document, was a candid photo from your most recent vacation. Your arms wrapped around his. His figure was behind yours in a hug. Your faces were engulfed in laughter after a guide failed to land a joke against him.

“Oh,” Severus whispered, Your gift was amazing. How did he get so lucky to deserve you?

“That’s a rare sight,” Filius said, by his right, “Severus smiling and speechless,”

“She’s beautiful, Severus,” Albus complimented,

“We look forward to meeting her,” Minerva said,

Their words fell on deaf ears.

Beneath the photo album, in a frame, there was another photo of the both of you from afar. This moment was captured by a charmed camera that you didn’t even know was there until after it happened. In the wilds of Wizarding Britain, on your first date, underneath the stars, he’d kissed the back of your hand, admitted his affections, and asked if he could kiss you. To which you shyly agreed, and received the sweetest kiss you’d ever experienced.

This he could place on his desk. The others were not up for public consumption.

“If you’ll excuse me, Professors, I must send a response,”

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #hp #harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #snape #professor snape #hogwarts #fanfiction #snape x you #severus snape x you

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corkinavoid · 6 months ago

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DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 6]

Hi!

I don’t really know how to write letters because I'm usually just talking to people in person. But Jazz said we can't visit, because we are not invited. I think it doesn't make sense because Sam never invites me, and her parents never do, but it's okay when I come.

Did you like the broom? It's Jack's, he's my Dad. Jazz says it's not very nice to give people used things as gifts, but I didn't have anything else to give you that I think you'd like.

I thought I can send you one of the posh potions I did, but Vlad said I can't, so I sent a broom. Sam won't tell me what she sent you, can you tell me? I really want to know.

Can you invite me so I can visit? We can fly together, and I can show you the twist I learned yesterday. It's not hard, but it makes it so you can fly upside down and it's really awesome, Jazz was screaming when I showed her!

● `Hį • <- sorry for this, Dani found my letter and she is not very good when she writes yet.

I don't know what else to write. Happy Birthday again! Mom wrote the card that we sent you before, so I didn't write it myself that time.

Send me a letter back,

Danny ☆

(p.S. do you like that star ☆ ? I think I want to draw stars on all my letters now, Jazz taught me how to make them pretty)

Hi,

You didn't answer my letter, so I'm sending another one. Jazz says maybe you don't want to answer, but I think she is wrong. Maybe the last letter got lost? If it was, then just know that I wrote you a letter before, and I want to be friends and I hope you liked the broom.

If you don't want to be friends, it's okay, you don't have to. Jazz says I can't make people be my friends. But if you do, can you send me a letter back, please?

I asked if you need to know the address, but Father says Polaris (he is the owl) will know where to take it if you give it to him. If you didn't like the broom, I can send you something else. Just tell me what you like.

Danny ☆

Timothy,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

I apologize if my previous attempts to reach you have been unsafia unsatisfactory.

Please inform me if exchanging correspondence with me is something you would be interested in.

Kind regards,

Daniel.

—☆—☆—☆—

Pics for v i b e s

—☆—☆—☆—

Notes on random irrelevant (and a little relevant) things:

There's about a month or so between the first and the second letter Danny sent, and about two and a half between the second and the third. He had Vlad's help with the last one, and he used Masters family wax stamp on it instead of whatever he's found and liked himself. He never received an answer and has not sent another one.

Polaris is one of the two owls that Fenton family has. He is a very nice barn owl, and he is the one considered the family owl, carrying most of their correspondence. Yes, Danny named him. The other owl is Jenkins, Jazz's tawny owl that she takes to Hogwarts.

Vlad has his own snowy owl named Sol. He did not name her after the Sun, even though he doesn't correct people when they assume. Instead, her name comes from 'Соль' [Soĺ] - 'Salt' in Russian due to her feathers being not completely white but kind of looking like sprinkled with salt. It turned out to be a very accurate name since Sol has a rather salty attitude.

The reason why Tim never answered any of Danny's letters is because he never received them. They were addressed to Drake manor, but the house elves there are not permitted to handle mail. Instead, Janet and Jack sort through it every time they visit their estate. It's kind of like a spam filter for them - everyone who really needs to reach them would address the letters to their names personally, and everything addressed simply 'to Drake manor' is probably not that urgent or important.

As to why they haven't been around for long enough that Danny's letters got entirely lost, I'll get to that in the next part. Prepare for a time skip!

[<- part 5 | part 7 ->]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #tim drake #hp #hogwarts au #cork prompts #letters #yeah i know i said im on hiatus #and i am #this just kinda happened

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sloanesallow · 28 days ago

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man vs. owl

An excerpt from the latest chapter of "The Call of the Void", in which Papa Sloane makes a new enemy in Sebastian's owl, Ophelia 🦉 genuinely one of my favorite scenes I've written lately... If it helps, I picture Papa Sloane to be a strange combo of Ron Swanson and Conan O'Brian 🤣 Chapter 16 ➡️ [Ao3] | [Wattpad]

Siobhan wakes up on Christmas Day to her father loudly cursing in the foyer.

Frightened, she scrambles from her room and down the stairs to find him arguing with a large, squaking owl, perched on the fireplace mantle. She immediately recognizes the tawny feathers, which do nothing to settle her rapidly beating heart.

“Get the bloody hell out of here, you hear me?!”

“Papa!”

“Don’t Papa me! There’s an owl in our home!”

“It’s Ophelia,” she says, trying to hold her father back from grabbing at the bird, who smacks his hand with an outstretched talon. “Careful, she—”

“Owe you shitehawk!” he yelps as Ophelia dips her head down to bite his fingers. “Go bhfaighir bás gan an sagart!”

Siobhan gasps. “Papa!”

Ophelia swoops away from them, landing on the back of her father’s old armchair.

“Ohhh, now you’re lookin’ for a fight, aren’t you, you little—”

Still frazzled, Siobhan goes to the kitchen and returns a moment later with a cup filled with brandy and two slices of bread, remembering what pacified the owl last time. Rowan watches in horror as she offers it to Ophelia, who happily glugs the alcohol before swallowing the bread whole.

“She’s just an owl, Papa. You have to be patient with them,” she explains, softly smiling when Ophelia allows her exactly one stroke. Since her arrival in Nottingham, she’d received mail from other carrier owls, but they’d all been politely left in the porch collection box.

“This isn’t an owl,” he scoffs. “It’s a demon.”

Siobhan looks around for whatever Ophelia came to deliver, picking up a small wrapped parcel from the floor. The unmarked box fits in the palm of her hand, and her already frazzled thoughts spiral with the possibilities of what it contains.

“Are you going to tell me who’s responsible for this hellspawn?”

She hesitates, glancing between her father and the package. “Sebastian.”

Rowan’s eyebrows twitch. “A boy?”

“Yes, Papa, a boy,” Siobhan sighs.

“And who is this…Sebastian fellow, exactly?”

“He’s…” she trails off, immediately worsening his suspicion. There are several ways to finish the thought. A friend? A kindred spirit? One of the first people who showed a genuine interest in her? Siobhan purses her lips, genuinely concerned by what would make her father more upset—that Sebastian had cursed her, or that he’d kissed her.

“He’s just…Sebastian,” she finally answers.

Rowan scrutinizes her. “You’re blushing.”

“Papa, please,” she doesn’t mean to whine, but Sebastian is absolutely the last person she wants to be discussing with her father. “Leave it be.”

At any other time, he might’ve pushed the issue or teased her until she told the truth, but there’s something in the desperate way she pleads that causes him to relax. Siobhan looks back at Ophelia, who is tapping the bottom of the now-empty glass with her beak.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asks. Ophelia turns her head sideways and narrows her yellow eyes as if she’s offended by the question.

“Right,” Siobhan murmurs.

Rowan flicks his gaze between her and the owl. “You can talk to animals now?”

“No, Papa,” she shakes her head. “Only Animagi can do that.”

“Aniwhatnow?”

“Witches or wizards who can turn into animals.”

Her father squints at Ophelia. “She’s not going to turn into a woman, is she?”

“I don’t…think so,” Siobhan responds, sure that Sebastian would’ve mentioned if his owl was actually a crazed witch in disguise.

Ophelia suddenly screeches, startling Rowan enough that he nearly topples to the ground. Siobhan swears the owl chuckles.

“What did I say?!” her father shouts. “Is ceann de’s na h-óinseacha diabhail thú!”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x f!mc #siobhan sloane #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hufflepuff oc #I am seriously considering getting a commission of Papa Sloane fighting Ophelia 🤣🤣🤣

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sirdolraan · 5 months ago

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Blessings

((DWC Feb 2025, Day 2, Cage/Power, @daily-writing-challenge CW: None ))

Shortly after the battle of Cinderbrew Meadery

Lorellai grunted and stretched after removing her mail hauberk, sore and ready for rest after the battle. The Nerubian advance had finally be stopped, their general slain, thanks to the sacrifice of Baelgrim. Dolraan had told everyone to get some rest while the Earthen advanced their plans to restore coreway access; tomorrow would probably be just as busy.

Lorellai flopped down on the surprisingly comfortable bed provided by the inn, thankful to whatever strange travelers had come to Dornagal before to necessitate their construction. Earthen beds didn't look particularly comfortable to dwarves made of flesh and blood like her. She closed her eyes, and sighed, before a flash of light got her attention.

Opening one eye in irritation, and then both in surprise, Lorellai stared into the unblinking, and somewhat judgmental gaze, of a sentinel owl.

The owl stared at her for a few moments, then with its talons, pulled at the silver moon pendant that was atop the dresser. It clinked as the owl dragged it across the stone, and the owl's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hey, I'm not a thief, I'm going to find the owners now that things are calmer, it's just been a whole war going on that was taking priority. I should be able to track that priestess down tomorrow," Lorellai said, stubbornly putting her head back down on the pillow.

The owl tilted its head to the right, and the inner radiance of it intensified, filling the room with moonlight. Lorellai scrunched her eyes closed, but it was no good. "You aren't going to let me sleep first, are you?" she asked of the owl, who just dragged the pendant across the stone again. "Alright, -fine-, sleep is for the weak I guess," Lorellai grumbled, throwing on a fresh shirt and vest before lacing her boots back up and heading out into Dornagal, pendant in hand and owl flitting ahead.

The sentinel silently flapped from building to sign to tree, leading her on. Irritated, she called out to it. "If you know where they are, why don't you just bring it back to them yourself?" she demanded, earning her another cocked head before it flew to another building across the way. It led her into the middle tier, where several empty homes had been converted to house the refugees of Dalaran, before landing in front of one specific door, and waiting for Lorellai to catch up. "I take it this is the place?" she asked, as the owl hooted, then disappeared in a flash. Sighing, Lorellai knocked on the door. Moments later, it opened, revealing a bandaged and healing Kaldorei man, who looked down at her and smiled.

"Oh, I recognize you! Elune Adore, champion Lorellai, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Lorellai scratched the back of her head awkwardly. She still wasn't used to being referred to as one of the champions, no matter what she'd achieved in the Dragon Isles. "Uh, hi, sorry t' bother yeh, but remember when I pulled yer partner and yeh from th' wreckage? I found this pendant after you cleared out, and figured it should be returned."

"Ah, where are my manners, I am Nylas, please come inside, my beloved will be most happy to see her pendant, and I would be honored to prepare you some tea." the man responded, gently steering her inside the earthen home.

"Well, I can't stay long, but some tea might be nice to help me get some sleep once this errand is done."

"Of course, we have been hearing tales of what you and your fellows have accomplished thus far. I will make sure the tea will help you find your rest when the time comes." Nylas answered. "Beloved! We have company!" he called, as Lorellai stepped down into the common space and saw the priestess, laying comfortably on an earthen couch that had been covered in cushions, her face beautiful despite the bruising from her experience. Her right arm sat in a sling, and it was clear she had much more to recover from than her husband. Still though, she smiled at Lorellai.

"Ishnu-alah, my friend. I am glad of this opportunity to thank you in person for saving my husband and I from our peril. I am Jira'rel, servant of Elune. Please, take your ease," she said, motioning to a nearby chair, before adjusting herself to sit up a bit more.

"Oh, yer most welcome ma'am, and don't push yourself on my behalf, I just came by to return something of yours." Lorellai said, laying the pendant in the woman's hands, before taking her seat. "I was planning to seek you out tomorrow, but I had a very insistent visitor."

"Oh, did you now? Nuri'thor, did you harass this young woman into returning you to me?" she asked, as the pendant glowed and the sentinel appeared, perched on her knee and hooting. The woman turned her gaze back to Lorellai. "I apologize for my companion, he has ever been headstrong, for as long as we have been bonded."

"Well, at least he's back where he belongs. I didn't know they were bound to items?" Lorellai asked as Nylas entered the room with a tray holding a teapot and three cups, setting them on the table and pouring the drinks.

Jira'rel gently stroked the glowing owl's head and smiled. "Not always, but there was a time when those of us who were not as magically talented as our sisters were given relics to aid in the bonding with our sentinels." Her look took on a pensive tone as she accepted the tea from her husband. "As it so happens... miss Lorellai, Nylas and I owe you more than we can say. Thanks to you, we are alive and together. I would like to repay you for that."

Lorellai started to protest, but was cut off by Jira'rel's gaze, now bearing an almost otherworldly strength. "It would be a boon to us as well as you, champion. My husband has ever been a gentle soul; my service among the priesthood and the sentinels is a burden we have carried together, but in the wake of this tragedy, and the extent of my injuries, I feel my best path forward is to focus on my healing, and my beloved, and how we may best help others as civilians. That said, Nuri'thor is not built for a quiet life; his path is ever to stand against darkness. A path, I feel, that you are destined to take as well. Would you take my dear friend into your care, and let him stand with you? At least for a time."

Lorellai blinked. "I... I don't know what to say, uh, I'm not exactly a worshipper of Elune..."

"Be that as it may, you fought on the front lines in defense of our new home, alongside my sisters at Bel'ameth. You need not kneel in Her temples to serve Her designs, my young friend. And Nori'thur seems to have taken a liking to you." Jira'rel smiled as the owl flitted over to land on Lorellai's head, before bending over to hoot in her face. "I am sure we will be reunited in time, but for now, I would be most pleased to know he is at your side. Tell me you'll accept him?"

"I suppose if you put it that way, I can't rightly refuse. I guess we're buddies now, Nori, as long as you can understand that I prefer to sleep when it's dark out." Lorellai said, eliciting a laugh from the kaldorei couple.

Lorellai emerged into the cool air of nighttime Dornagal, the moonlight shining down and glinting off the silver pendant now hanging down from her neck, the silvery owl hooting softly as it guided her back to her bed. And inside the home behind her, Jira'rel and Nylas prayed to Elune to watch over the young woman as she journeyed into the darkness below.

#Drogar writes #daily writing challenge #Lorellai #All this to explain to my satisfaction why I main sentinel spec as a dwarf

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marigold-hills · 7 months ago

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Precious Things (Part 1)

a Remus Lupin Yuletide Miracle

Day One: Party | @wolfstarmicrofic

575 words

PART 2

*🎄🎄🎄*

“It’s a fad,” Remus tells his frantic boss, raising his voice over the screeching of owls. Even here, in the management room deep in the bowels of the post office, they can be clearly heard. Some nights, Remus hears them in his sleep.

“It’s not a fad!” Aberforth responds, hand banging on the wooden desk. “It's a dismantling of our way of living, our traditions, not to mention a threat to yours and mine livelihood.”

Remus looks to the ceiling for patience. It’s a sort of off-grey, off-beige colour that happens in rooms where smoking used to be allowed. “It’s an enchanted quill,” he says to one of the more interesting stains.

“Precisely!” Aberforth grows, somehow, impossibly, even more agitated. “It’s so simple we didn’t see it coming and yet here it is, and in just a month we’re already down by almost half the letters. And it’s December!”

That much, Remus has to admit, is true. In the ten years he’d spent working at the post office, he’s never seen it so quiet. The approach to Yule has always been their busiest time - holiday cards and party invites and people suddenly remembering to write to their estranged relatives - but this year?

Remus is doing a lot of standing around, this year. There are no letters getting lost for him to find if there aren’t that many letters in the first place.

“You’ll do it, then?” Aberforth pushes.

“Let me reiterate,” Remus answers slowly, like it could bring some sanity back into the conversation. “You want me to purchase one of those instant quills-“

“They’re called iQuill,” Aberforth interrupts.

“Ridiculous name. Very well. You want me to purchase an iQuill and what… use it?”

“Precisely,” Aberforth flashes what Remus has learnt is meant to be a persuasive smile. It looks vaguely threatening. “Figure out what makes them so popular. How we could implement it to bring people back to sending proper letters.”

“Aberforth,” Remus pushes the pads of his palms over his eyes until he sees twinkly lines in the blackness. A little festive touch in a run-up to a migraine. “I suspect that the answer is in the name. They’re instant. And unless you’re going to teach owls to Apparate, I don’t think you’ll be able to compete.”

Aberforth huffs out something under his breath - sounds like words which shouldn’t be uttered in polite company - and leaves the management room the same way he entered it: no hello, no goodbye. No pleasantries at all.

Remus is used to it. Aberforth has been his boss for a long, long time. With his strange quirks and even stranger brother and a penchant for having a couple pints at lunchtime, there isn’t much he can do that’s surprising.

It’s the two of them at the Wizarding Mail London Headquarters, no 37 Diagon Alley: the two of them, a stray ginger cat Remus feeds cans of tuna, and an ever changing rotation of part-timers: kids right out of Hogwarts who didn’t quite meet the requirements for what they wanted to do and are bumming off time while waiting to retake their NEWTS. From November they would usually have two, but this year there was no need so they stuck to the one they already had, a stocky boy whose name Remus didn’t bother learning.

They come and go all the time, is the thing. And Remus stays.

He hadn’t bothered to learn their names for a few years.

*🎄🎄🎄*

PART 2

Notes:

hi! Hello! After the false start I’m having a bit of a blast writing something Christmassy because well it’s the season and I might not have snow here but I can make up for it by writing about our favourite idiots. this whole work is dedicated to @magicbeings because it only exists thanks to that weird Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movie fics brainstorm day we had ❤️

I’m only going to tag in this first part because I’m posting a bunch at once and don’t want to spam!

if you’d like to be tagged in future updates let me know ❤️

@tealeavesandtrash

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@wannabelilybriscoe

@quiethauntings

@veganbutterchicken

#Wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #sirius x lupin #dead gay wizards #dead gay wizards from the 70s

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box-of-paperclips · 2 days ago

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you literally summoned me back from my hiatus with frog choir reg and barty. i need a four page long essay on their friendship immediately

(also!! hi!! i miss you!!)

HAHAHA WELCOME BACK, I WILL DELIVER, I have MANY thoughts about these two because my current WIP is Barty centric, so I’ve got… a LOT more where this came from. And yes, this was unironically 4 pages… (i missed you too!! how was the break?)

Their whole friendship is based around the fact that they’re both variations of the “☝️🤓 um actually” kid and would annoy anyone else to death.

At first, Regulus is the more unhinged one. But by seventh year, Regulus is looking back at second year Barty like “what did i DO to you???” and the answer to that is introducing him to Bellatrix.

Barty's toad is named something really stupid, like Croaker. Croaker often sits on windowsills. He’s nearly been killed by owls several times.

Regulus named his toad after his favourite aunt (Lucretia), and he insists Lucretia the toad is part of the family. Walburga finds this amusing, although she refuses to put the toad on the family tree, no matter how many times Regulus asks. Sirius threatens Lucretia's life on a weekly basis (He’s joking. Probably).

Regulus has no friends. He tells people that he doesn’t ‘make friends,’ he does networking. In reality, the pureblood kids think he’s full of himself (he is) and he doesn’t have any other friends because he refuses to associate with anyone who can’t trace their family tree back at least three generations of wizards.

Barty is in Ravenclaw. He's family friends with the Rosier twins, who are in sixth year, so he just follows Pandora and her friends around like a lost puppy all year instead of actually speaking to people in his year group. She doesn’t mind. Pandora's friends are Alice and Emmeline. Alice is in the frog choir!!

Evan is a different story. There was visible relief on Evan’s face when Barty went to Ravenclaw and not in Slytherin.

Regulus joins the frog choir in first year, Barty doesn’t join until second year, when Alice drags him along because Pandora thinks he needs to make friends in his own year group, no matter how much Barty insists that they’re all idiots.

Barty can sing. Regulus thinks he can sing.

They definitely went through a phase in second year where they tried to breed their toads for months. It did not work.

Barty is Flitwick’s favourite choir member because he’s in Ravenclaw and he’s good at charms. Regulus is fuming, because Regulus isn’t even Slughorn’s favourite student.

Regulus has a stupid amount of photographs of them in Frog Choir, because Walburga is the kind of mother who takes hundreds of pictures every time she sees them, so that she can mail them off to every relative and brag about how many extracurriculars her son does. Barty likes Walburga.

Regulus likes Quidditch and is just as much of a stuck-up intellectual as Barty, so they get along. Barty probably showed up to choir, saw Regulus pull out a sixth-year transfiguration textbook, and decided that was that, he’s just found his new best friend.

Regulus is honestly just glad that someone finally wants to be around him, because he’s been very lonely (he would rather die than tell anyone this). They’re immediately friends. They follow each other around, they eat all their meals together, they sneak each other into their common rooms, they’re at each other's houses all the time during the holidays.

If you see them in the library, there’s a 90% chance that Barty is locked in, and a 70% chance that Regulus is working on his ongoing fanfiction, where everyone who has ever annoyed him is put through terrible misfortunes until they finally emerge admitting that Regulus was right all along. “Cissy and the Feral Peacock,” a riveting tale of violent birds and ruined engagements, written after Narcissa told Walburga that Regulus was stealing her expensive peacock quills. “Professor McGonagall and the Fury of Alecto Carrow,” a gripping murder-mystery written after McGonagall docked him ten points for talking in class (Alecto Carrow laughed - the final scene is her reluctantly admitting that Regulus is better at Transfiguration as she’s being dragged screaming out of the Great Hall to a life sentence in Azkaban).

Regulus does dramatic readings of these when he finishes them. Barty is sitting there, eyes glued to the page, popcorn in hand. Their other pastimes include hating on all of their classmates, talking about Quidditch, and studying magical theory, including some… less pleasant magic.

In the summer holidays immediately after second year, Barty’s toad dies very suddenly, which is devastating for him. I like the idea of them having a poorly planned little burial in Barty’s garden (shameless plug for my own fic here… https://archiveofourown.org/works/66188731)

Flitwick lets him stay in the choir anyway, but Barty either gets a new toad, or the wonkiest, most scraggly, most broken, bony little owl to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. It looks ill. Regulus thinks it looks like a heap of scrap metal disguised as a bird. Or potentially a burnt marshmallow.

Regulus is very organised, very perfectionist. He’s got a really bad resting face because he’s perpetually annoyed at everyone by default, but his thoughts are practically written across his face. Barty is also perfectionist, but he’s generally louder, more emotional, more impulsive. There is absolutely no way to tell what’s going on inside his head from his face.

Regulus would prefer alphabetical order, Barty would prefer the Dewey Decimal System. Regulus’ methods of organising stuff are rigid and immediately clear to everyone, Barty’s methods are less definite and they make sense to him, but without knowing how his brain works, good luck finding anything.

Regulus holds the biggest grudges, but he doesn’t do anything about them, he just fumes. Someone will give Regulus a weird look in the corridor and he’ll spend the next three hours telling Barty every detail of their parents’ messy divorce, but if they asked to borrow a quill an hour after that, he’d shove one across the table just to be polite. Barty, on the other hand… if he forms a grudge, he’ll be taking vengeance rapidly.

They both take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Barty takes every elective because one, he likes learning, two, his father is actually impressed by school results (he would never admit this). Third year isn’t fun for Barty, because his mother is on the brink of death because someone tried to poison his father and got her by mistake. This cements his hatred of his father. There’s a lot of anger going on there, which Voldemort is going to capitalise on!

A teacher will ask a question in class and they’ll practically be clawing each others’ eyes out trying to get their hand in the air first.

Barty is beefing with the puffskeins in Care of Magical Creatures (they keep attaching themselves to his head). Regulus says it’s his fault for picking such a useless subject, but he does quietly lodge a formal complaint to the school board (he would be SUCH a “I want to speak to the manager” Karen).

Barty supports Ravenclaw over Slytherin in Quidditch. Regulus pretends to be mad about this, and will fake more dramatic injuries than usual. A Ravenclaw player brushes the air next to his shoulder? Regulus is falling to the ground clutching his arm, pale in the face, sweaty, screaming, rolling around in extremely real pain. Do not hit a Bludger anywhere near him, you’ll regret giving him actual material to work with. Very occasionally, it helps to get them penalties. Barty finds this hilarious only if Regulus is not playing Ravenclaw.

Regulus is a pureblood fanatic. This transfers onto Barty eventually - Regulus is in the camp of “all purebloods are superior to all muggle-borns, all muggles are stupid and wizards are overall superior.”

I don’t think Barty would be all that attracted to that part of it, but I do think he’d be VERY into “the Ministry are cowards for restricting Dark Magic, muggles shouldn’t have the world revolve around them when we have this much power,” which combines with the respect and power he can get with the Death Eaters, Voldemort as a person, and the aspect of rebelling against his father’s beliefs to make him more of a fanatic than Regulus by the time they hit sixth/seventh year.

I think whereas Regulus would’ve joined up and gotten the dark mark basically right away because of his relationship with Bellatrix, Barty has to work for it a little more. Barty’s probably just running errands for the Death Eaters at first. I imagine the Lestranges run some sort of semi-legal market on Dark Magic and Dark artefacts in their basement, and he spends a lot of time around this in the holidays of sixth and seventh year.

Once, he’s running errands with Evan, Aurors show up, and Barty lies his head off and gets them off without any trouble. After years of treating him like he’s just a snotty child he’s being forced to watch, Evan finally starts treating Barty with respect. Pandora has, by this point, gotten married and quietly eased her way out of pureblood society, so Barty’s entire social circle is just Death Eaters. I also like the idea that Bellatrix immediately treats him like another younger cousin. Combined with Voldemort paying him personal attention, there’s no way Barty is leaving this.

This definitely starts driving a wedge between them, because Barty is getting more and more obsessed with Death Eater stuff. While Regulus is obsessed with it at first, by the time Bellatrix starts teaching them the Unforgivables and making them practice on live animals, he’s getting a bit squeamish, and he kind of wants it all to stop. Barty is having none of it. He loves dark magic, he loves Voldemort, he’s going all in.

Barty is supposed to be trying to help the Death Eaters get access to his father so that they can put him under the Imperius. This is not going very well. When Voldemort asks for a house elf, both Barty and Regulus see the opportunity to get into Voldemort’s good graces.

Regulus volunteers first. Barty is ENRAGED because Regulus isn’t in any trouble with Voldemort, he’s completely average, and in Barty’s eyes, he’s just wasted Barty’s chance to buy himself more time. They have their first really massive, serious argument. Everything shifts after that. Barty gets much closer to Evan and Bellatrix, and more distant from Regulus.

Barty betrays Dorcas’ location to the Death Eaters. Voldemort brutally kills her in the street. It’s violent. Regulus feels sick afterwards. He’s still got pureblood ideals, but he doesn’t like that Voldemort is willing to kill so many important, powerful witches and wizards to achieve those goals, and is beginning to think that maybe the Death Eaters just enjoy violence for the sake of violence. He feels like he doesn’t even know who Barty is anymore.

Dorcas’ death effectively locks Barty into staying with the Death Eaters. He gets the Dark Mark for his contributions to murdering Dorcas. He starts to view Dorcas as a coward who wouldn’t use the influence she had to push against the Ministry, who was “too scared” to make a world where wizards are literally just ruling over muggles, in complete control, complete power, and therefore, she deserved to die.

Regulus finds out what’s been going on with the cave when Kreacher comes back to him. Voldemort has been bragging a lot about immortality to his inner circle, and this just proves that he’s actually gone and made a Horcrux. To Regulus, this is proof that Voldemort’s main aim is ruling as a tyrant forever, not the pureblood ideals that Regulus cared about. Also, the mistreatment of Kreacher, and leaving him for dead, is making him angry. He’s conflicted over what to do with this information, and he’s not even sure he believes in the pureblood cause all that much anymore. He does try to confront Barty with this information, but it backfires terribly and only makes Barty more intense about the Death Eaters. This is Regulus’ final attempt to get Barty out.

Regulus goes off to the cave and dies. It’s probably the first time he’s actually done something with any of his anger, instead of just stewing in it. Outwardly, Barty pretends not to care, because they’re all told that Regulus defected, betrayed the Death Eaters and died in the process. He tries to tell himself that he hates Regulus for being disloyal, that Regulus is a coward who was too squeamish to do what needed to be done. Inwardly, he blames himself for it. But if he buries the guilt, he can control the situation. “Voldemort sees what I’m truly capable of, Voldemort thinks I can do great things.” Any attention is good attention, so he does worse and worse stuff. He eventually starts believing Voldemort actually cares about him (delusional…)

Without Regulus, Barty continues to spiral further down the Death Eater life.

And on that cheerful note, you’ve reached the end of this post, congratulations!!! if you read all of this, go drink some water (like regulus in the cave)

#frog choir truthers!!!#why work on my wip when i can come here and yap #regulus black #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders fandom #my post #paperclips marauders

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imactuallyacartooncharacter · 2 months ago

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Updated intro post :)

Hello, I'm Nico (it/its/they/them). I'm Brazilian and my first language is Brazilian Portuguese; I learned English mostly by myself and I can speak it and understand it just fine ^^. I'm 21 years old and I'm also queer and neurodivergent in multiple ways ehxkwnjs

This blog is mostly dedicated to my art :) I mostly draw "Adventure Time"/"Fionna & Cake" but that could change if I get hyperfixated on something else (I don't choose the hyperfixation, my unconscious choses it for me :p). Some other media I like:

- "Steven Universe"

- "The Owl House"

- "Avatar" (ATLA and LOK; I've also read most of the comics and the Kyoshi novels)

- "Bee & Puppycat"

- "Dead End: Paranormal Park"

- "A Kind Of Spark"

- "Dungeon Meshi" (anime and manga)

- "Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba" (manga and anime but mostly I just like Nezuko)

I have a side blog that I mostly use to reblog stuff (@nico-saurus). I'm also on instagram and ao3 under the same user as here and on bluesky under @cartoon-nico.bsky.social.

Feel free to dm or send asks if you want to chat! As long as you're nice I'd love to make friends ^^

I accept drawing requests as long as they're under the guidelines I've put in place. I'm also open to art trades!

I'm also a crocheter and I take commissions for amigurumi patterns! I really want to be able to take commissions for the actual dolls as well but I still don't know how international shipping works (however, if you're also Brazilian I can totally mail them to you!).

I'm not a fan of DNI's but I will not talk to you in private if you're a lot younger than me or if you're not a mutual and you're replying to personal posts (I don't make a lot of those but I occasionally vent in here). I will block you if you're intentionally hateful or if you try to start pointelss arguments (fandoms are supposed to be fun, it's not that serious).

I have an AT au that I'm always working on (sometimes I take breaks from it but I always come back), which is the "Dragon Bonnie AU"; the premise of this au is that Princess Bubblegum was supposed to be a candy dragon just like Neddy, but she hides her true form from everyone until she can't do it anymore. It's also on ao3 but not complete yet. I also have some more au's that I intend to expand whenever the inspiration hits snxkanz (they'll all be tagged in this post ^^).

Please, do not repost my art. However, if you like my au's and want to take inspiration from them that's totally fine (most of the ideas aren't 100% mine anyway sbxjabsj). If you want to know more about them I'll gladly talk about them with you as well and answer questions if you have any!

#my au #dragon bonnie au #marceline the ice queen au #post apocalypse au #not so tragic au #amigurumi #begginer artist #queer artist #disabled artist #neurodivergent artist #fiber artist #digital artist #fanartist #artists on tumblr #crocheters on tumblr #crocheter

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victusinveritas · 2 months ago

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🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as you make them smile. Please feel free to respond to this ask by listing some of your happiest memories, favorite qualities about yourself, or discussing something you are super passionate about. You may send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile (but no pressure).🦉

Also I need funding for my tesla graveyard in Narragansett Bay

This is a Rhode Island specific memory. I agree that a Tesla Graveyard would be a great reef and possible shoal (because fuck those ships that can't be bothered with harbor pilots and updated charts) for the Bay. One of my happiest memories was sitting on the steps of the side yard of my grandfather's house with Geno (said grandfather) shucking ears of Rhode Island sweetcorn picked out off the truck from Belmont in Wakefield (pre-remodel and fancification, which is lovely but also killed the little friendly grocery store vibe once and for all). I was on corn silk removal duty along with chucking the husks in the back. There was a tape-player playing "Sittin' by the dock of the bay" (Clapton, a terrible racist, yeah, yeah, but it was the early 1990s and he still had a mythic status among white people who did not pay as much attention as they should have) and my grandfather sang along with what my mom always called an "Irish tenor." I still have no idea how that differs from a non-Hibernian tenor, though I just Googled it and apparently it's a John McCormack-esque thing, which tracks for my grandfather. He was one of the few people who could call me John John and ruffle my hair, and he did so any chance he got. I would have been about seven or maybe eight. It was before my grandfather broke his hip on the ice while getting the mail and his health (mental and physical) declined rapidly. His hip was fragile because of the shrapnel in it from D-Day (different from the shrapnel from the Bulge). The doctor apparently apologized to my grandmother for not being able to get "the metal out," assuming I guess that there had been some sort of car accident or something. According to the story she just kinda looked at him and said, "Sweetie, it's been there since the Woore." (she had a Cranston accent, though not as strong as some, it came out when she was stressed). Something I am supremely passionate about is the Spanish Civil War. I can talk about it for hours, both political and military dimensions. I had a second cousin who served in the International Brigades (Connolly Column), so my support falls entirely to the Republican cause and further with the POUM/FAI--doesn't matter because they're all dead and pretending otherwise is just a particular sort of historical cosplay--a cute pin referencing the IB is fine, maybe a POUM propaganda poster on a T-shirt, but fight the struggle you are in currently, not the one from 90 years ago, however tempting it might be to slip back into old habits and patterns (that the foe in these conflicts, Fascism, hasn't changed, can make this difficult, and I'm not going into more depth here because I have 'shit to do' today). Another happy memory, this one reoccurring and more of an experience than a memory, though owl related, is being in bed, snug with my comrade-lover, on a cold winter's night, like single digit cold, with the snow deep on the ground and a dog snuggled up either between us or on my leg under a blanket, and an owl hoots out into the chill air. Another owl will hoot back from somewhere else, and the tin roof somehow conducts this all into the bedroom and it is like the owls are right on top of us (they're not, I've seen them hanging out in a particular tree in the back yard, which is about 100 feet away from the house). Any folks who want to answer this, anonymous or otherwise, I'll be happy to share your moments of joy here. Good weekend, comrades.

#antifascist #memories #happy memories #owls #Spanish Civil War

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himegureisu · 1 year ago

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The Howler

Summary: Your husband, Severus, receives a Howler from you.

A/N: This prompt randomly passed through my brain. I thought it would be nice. It did take a day or two to write but here it is! I hope you like it, this is the first time I'm writing for Severus x Reader.

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

In the Great Hall, the breakfast banquet was served. Their students eagerly chattered among friends over good food and drink before classes. On the other hand at the High Table, small talk and occasional personal questions were exchanged.

That’s until the owls, in turn, the mail, came for the day.

Their tiny but sturdy claws carried various packages from letters, gifts, newspapers, and journal subscriptions. Among them, one particular barn owl was heading straight toward the High Table holding a distinct red letter.

From afar, Severus could see the owl, ignoring the House Tables, and coming straight for him. It wasn’t his owl. No, it was your owl. If it was your owl then…

“Oh dear,” Severus said,

By his side, Minerva, who was perusing her copy of the Wizarding World News stopped, to glance at him as the owl dropped the angry red letter above his plate.

“Severus,” she asked, the attention of other professors turned to him, “Is that a Howler?”

“Who would send our dear Severus a Howler?” Filius asked after,

You. His wife. Would send a Howler. You, who were undeniably cross after being forgotten.

Your owl chirped, Severus presented to her a treat, which she happily accepted before flying off. He stared at the Howler mentally preparing for the reprimand about to happen when Dumbledore said.

“Well go on, Severus, open it,” he urged, “I heard it is unwise to leave Howlers unanswered,”

So, he did.

“Severus Tobias Snape!” your voice echoed throughout the Hall, the student's attention on him, “You forgot about the move! I reminded you a thousand times when it was, and you still didn’t come.”

This time the Great Hall was quiet. Their attention focused on the tirade given to their most hated professor.

Let’s just say he wanted to die then and there.

“I know you hate handing your classes off to someone else, but I at least thought you’d make an exception for me!” you shouted at him in mind, “I moved across the continent for god sake! Do you know how much stuff I had? No! Do you know hard it was to transport all my boxes into the Manor? No! It was hard and that was with magic already. The only good thing you did was leaving the portkey because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the damned Manor and would be standing outside of it looking like a fool!”

The Howler paused.

“I love you but if you don’t come home tonight to help me unpack, you’re going to find yourself locked out of your own house.”

The Howler combusted thereafter.

His colleagues were in shock at the message conveyed. His students stared in a mix of horror, amusement, and curiosity. On the other hand, he was so screwed. His composure slowly faltered upon deliberating what to do and quickly decided on the appropriate course of action.

To go home to you.

“If you’d excuse me for the day, Professor,” Severus addressed Dumbledore, standing up from his seat, “I need to make it up to someone,”

“You can take the rest of the week off, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in wonder, “It seems you have some groveling to do,”

“That I do, Professor,” he answered, walking away then sighing, “That I do,”

Part 2 is up 💖

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #hp #harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #snape #professor snape #hogwarts #fanfiction #snape x you #severus snape x you

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stay-prideful · 3 months ago

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Helluva Boss x Reader (S2)

Stolas Part 2: Alone and Waiting

This gets kind of sad. IDK if it needs a warning or not?

The worst part was that he kept his word.

Stolas stopped leaving messages on the receptionist phone, and you suddenly missed them, their being the only communication you had with the prince. You tried calling him at work, given his number was in the records, but it always went to voicemail. He even stopped texting and calling Blitzø, who was a bit confused, but bragged about it for the next few days. Nobody else seemed to notice the change, and Stolas had thankfully delivered the grimoire back to I.M.P. It came in the mail, delivered as a package, rather than in-person. It was wrapped in parchment, and there was a small note. The only thing it read was “For the Blunt One.”

Blitzø thought it referred to him, and cursed him absentmindedly, complaining about how slow mail was, and how it impeded his business. However, you knew the truth. You had said you were going to be blunt with Stolas, and that was how he remembered you. Forget the lively conversations about the mortal world and stars, and forget the friendship you had garnered so quickly. You were now just the one who had treated him coldly, and it stung.

The warmth you had for him in your heart turned to an icy ache. You didn’t long for him; you were sorry that you had made the gentle, polite, happy owl hide himself away. He had made you happy for the briefest of moments, being the only friend you had outside of I.M.P., and you had pushed him away, just as Blitzø did. You cursed yourself. You had loathed Blitzø in your moments at the mansion, for treating Stolas the way he had, after you had seen what the prince was really like. Yet you had done the same, and now you loathed your own actions.

In a small moment of desperation, when nobody was around, you changed the voice mail message for the office phone.

“You have reached I.M.P. If you are a client, please hang up or try again. Our hours are…”

You didn’t change that. What you did was add a long pause, so that most clients would hang up before hearing the next part.

“If you are Prince Stolas Goetia, please do not hesitate to reach me at…”

You gave your own personal phone number, and hoped clients wouldn’t try to message you. You had invoked his title and family name, so you also hoped that would deter the particularly nosy.

Business continued, and life went on. You didn’t handle the phone with disgust anymore, but with a certain sadness. You shivered a little every time you heard it ring, the icy ache running through you in every instance. Loona, your best friend, noticed something was wrong with you after only a day or two. She cornered you after work, demanding to know what was up. She tried to put you in one of her playful headlocks to cheer you up, but you just went limp. She had to release you in surprise. She couldn’t stand how cold you were being, quiet as you were, even to her.

“Hey, you’ve been acting weird ever since you went over to… “his place.” What happened over there?” she asked you. You were up against a wall, and you were trying to avoid her gaze. You didn’t want to talk about what you had done, so you didn’t answer.

Loona grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you a little.

“Hey! I need my friend back! What did he do to you?!” she growled, as if already plotting revenge on your behalf. You internally sighed, knowing that she was the steadfast type who wouldn’t leave you alone, and would probably do something reckless if you didn’t talk to her. To be honest, it’s why you loved her as a friend. You spoke, only to tell her Stolas wasn’t the one to blame.

“It’s my fault he doesn’t call anymore,” you said. Loona gave a confused expression.

“Yeah, no shit. That was the whole reason you went over there,” she commented.

“No, I’m the reason he doesn’t even text Blitzø anymore. I fucked up.”

You took a deep breath.

“Stolas confessed to me the real reason he lets Blitzø take advantage of him for the grimoire, after I asked. He confessed this, this, this fantasy he had, where Blitzø was his knight in shining armor, and I told him that Blitzø didn’t love him. I told him that he was fooling himself. He gave me this dark look…just full of despair, and I saw that he was lonely. He asked me to leave, and I tried to comfort him, but he kicked me out. I'm an idiot. I risked everything, this whole business, because I stupidly convinced myself that I cared about him. That he was my friend, after only a single conversation. I’m The Blunt One.”

Loona blinked in surprise. She took a moment, processing what you had just said, before groaning. “UGH. This is why I don’t get wrapped up in Blitzø’s bullshit. I’m sorry you got caught up in it.” She looked away, uncomfortable. “You are an idiot, though. You almost got rid of our meal ticket.” Then she turned back, a fake smile, more for you than for her, plastered across her face. She playfully rubbed the fur on the top of your head, in a “big sister” kind of fashion. “What do you mean Blunt One?”

It was your turn to be surprised. You realized you had paid more attention to that little note than anyone else; you were the only one who knew what it actually meant. And of course, Loona never cared about that stuff. The coldness inside your chest thawed a little, because Loona was showing you her rare, affectionate side. Even if she wasn’t very good at it, with that fake smile she was wearing. So you told her about the note too.

“When Stolas gave the book back to us, it was wrapped in parchment. Which is strange, given he’s a prince. You’d think it would have some kind of protection, or be decorated. There was a note attached, if you remember. It read: ‘For the Blunt One.’ I know he was talking about me, because I’ve replayed those moments over and over in my head for the past few weeks. Before I…confronted his lie, I told him that I couldn’t find a way to say it gently, so I would say it bluntly.”

Loona looked at you, red eyes penetrating your deep into your soul. Then she pulled you into a hug, which was strange. Loona didn’t like to get physical, unless it was wrestling, or she had murderous intent. She squeezed you tightly. You thought about hugging her back, but thought better of it. She would probably push you away if you acknowledged what she was doing. So you relaxed, letting her comfort you.

“You really are an idiot. Look, I don’t want to get involved, so don’t rope me into your little mess, but it’s obvious you do care about him, even though you’re a major kind of stupid to. He gave us the book back, and we don’t have to hear Blitzø complain about him anymore. You’re better off just forgetting about it,” she said, still hugging you. “Try calling him once, and if he doesn’t answer, leave it alone.”

You had already tried to call Stolas. Multiple times. So you did your best to forget about him over the next few months, though his dark and lonely expression drifted into your mind occasionally. You managed, returning back to your work with the efficiency of a machine, which you had possessed before you properly met the prince. You were mostly back to normal. That is, until Stolas almost died.

You were at work when it happened, and was waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive at the office. Blitzø was taking Loona to get an “S.H.O.T.” (yes, it had to be spelt out, otherwise Loona would go crazy. She had a major phobia of needles) M&M were with him, carpooling. You had expected to work alone at the desk for about an hour before M&M arrived, but it turned into 2, and you refused to let it get to the third hour before you called Millie. Where were they?! I.M.P. doesn’t function without its assassins! Your job was to get the jobs, theirs was to go out and complete them!

“Hey hon! What’s up?” Millie said, her southern accent reminding you of the rural USA.

“Millie! Where are you and Moxxie?! I’ve been here for hours, and—”

“Ohhh, shit. We totally forgot to tell you! Stolas called. Said he was being kidnapped. Me and Moxxie are in Wrath right now, trying to hunt Striker down.”

You had to pause, to take in what she said. You hadn’t thought about Stolas in months. Now he was being kidnapped—was kidnapped, by Striker? You hadn’t been around for I.M.P.’s first encounter with the bounty hunter, but you knew how dangerous he was from the way Moxxie spoke about him. Why had Stolas called them, and not your desk? You were the receptionist. Did he still care about Blitzø? Was he avoiding you specifically? The icy ache that you had long forgotten slowly crept back into you, seeping into your bones as you worried for the prince.

“Are you going to be okay? How can I help? Where’s Blitzø?” you asked, raining questions upon Millie, unfairly. You wanted to talk to Stolas again, but you needed to know that he was going to be okay, and that M&M could handle the situation.

“Woah, woah! Relax, (Y/N). Moxxie and I got it covered. You wouldn’t be much help, given that you don’t have any experience huntin’ or killin’. Not to mention you’re stuck up in your Ring. Blitzø is with Loona, getting her hellbies shot. You know that. Hey—I just realized, since you’re basically a hellhound—"

“I’m not a hellhound,” you replied coldly, momentarily forgetting about Stolas.

“Right. I’m not familiar with the upper ring’s medicine, but if on paper you’re a hell—I mean, a you-know-what, shouldn’t that mean you need them too?”

You rubbed your temples, hating your current existence.

“Millie, I don’t want to think about that right now. Can you tell me when you get Stolas back? I’m worri—I mean, I’m worried about the jobs we’ve booked today.”

“Sorry, (Y/N). Stolas is a priority. I know you don’t like him, but we’ve gotta get this done.”

You tried not to correct her about disliking him. You agreed, Stolas was a priority for you, even if it didn’t make sense for the company, or for your attitude before you had met him. Millie was never told about what you did, so she didn’t know that…

You tried to push away the thoughts of exactly how you felt about the owl demon.

“I understand, Millie. Just…keep me updated.”

“No problem, (Y/N)! Alright, we gotta go now, Moxxie just killed a gang of cowboys—”

She hung up. You sat there, taking in the news. You soon became restless, shifting uncomfortably from your spot at the desk, icy feeling growing around your heart. You hated it. You hated that you were trapped in the pride ring. You hated that you couldn’t help. You hated that you had hurt Stolas, and that he probably hated you. You clutched your chest, trying to remember Loona’s advice about forgetting about him. He didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you.

You managed to get through the work day, but received no updates from M&M. You were worried sick. First for Stolas, now for them. What if Striker had killed them? Where was Blitzø? How long did getting Loona her shot need to be? What if she and Blitzø had gone after them, and—

You needed to call Millie back. You dialed her number, pushing the buttons as fast as you could without fucking it up.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up, PICK UP—Hey, Millie! Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick. I didn’t get any updates, and—”

“So sorry, (Y/N)! Forgot to call you back. A lot’s happened. Moxxie and I…we uh, we managed to get Stolas, but Striker got away. Stolas though, he…he got hurt. I know you don’t care, but—”

“Is he going to be okay?” you asked, sounding more panicked than you had meant to. Millie was quiet, probably surprised by your reaction.

“He’s…uh, he’s in the hospital at Sloth, he should be fine,” Millie reassured you. “He’s royalty, so they’ve gotta…have the...best doctors.” Millie’s words had come out slow, and you knew she wasn’t telling you everything. “He’ll be fine.”

The conversation didn’t really go anywhere after that. Millie dodged your questions, perhaps in an attempt to prevent you from getting even more worried, and eventually she had to hang up. You had to go home. Nobody was coming back to the office.

You made the trek back to your apartment, and the icy ache in your chest grew more painful, and you worried it might become real, stopping your heart by freezing it solid.

Your apartment was basically empty, and it was small. It was a one-bedroom apartment with a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a small open area that you had put a table and 2 chairs in, but not much else. You hadn’t decorated it with any other furniture besides your mattress, and every sheet, towel, and piece of clothing you had was hanging or folded in your closet or their areas of use, not contained in a dresser. You had no personal items, except for maybe in your kitchen.

Because of your low income, it had been worth it to invest in how to cook here in Hell. It was much cheaper than eating out, so whatever you saved went back into making good food, like purchasing better quality ingredients and utensils. It was practical. You also didn’t have money to afford hobbies, and the rest of hell still treated you like shit because you looked like a hellhound, and was violent 24/7, so you never really did anything outside. Your time went into perfecting your craft in this small kitchen.

You eyed a calendar that was stuck to the fridge, then opened the fridge to see dozens of pre-made meals. They looked delicious; you had made sure they were.

You took one out, and prepared it. You reheated some ingredients, while preparing and cooking other raw ingredients. Despite the meals being pre-made, you still hadn’t prepared them fully, the joy of cooking filling up swaths of empty time, even if separating the ingredients for safety was a little extra effort. The apartment was eerily quiet, filled only with the sounds of what you made. You sat down at your small table, and your eyes lingered on the chair across from you while you ate. You were never sure why you had bought it. You never had anybody over. You chewed slowly, the taste...bland. The food, despite being good in reality, lacked something, and you knew what it was: somebody to eat it with.

The icy feeling had gone away when you had been in the zone, performing your craft in the kitchen. Now it came back in full force, and you wondered if Stolas was still in the hospital, recovering from his injuries. Would anybody visit him? Surely his daughter, Octavia. Though you had only met her once, and it had been when she was running away to L.A. You shivered, despite the warm food in your belly. Somebody would visit him. Surely.

The next few days came and went. Millie and Loona checked on you to see how you were doing, and you gave them a warm response, despite the frost eating away at your insides. Loona saw through you, but said nothing in front of Millie. Like the day previous, you were unsettled, restless, and constantly shifting. Though, when it came time to go home, that was almost worse. You would be away from the others, and no one would update you if Stolas said anything. You knew it was stupid, to care for the owl, but you couldn’t break free of the ice, and it was destroying you.

You went home, prepared you meal, and ate alone. You eyed the chair again, knowing that it would only bring you more pain. You tried to imagine Stolas sitting there, but the mirage quickly became a shadow, his face full of despair, holding disdain for you, despite the loneliness that lay at the edges of every feature on his face. You still remembered it clearly, after all these months. You had been fine, forgetting him. But this Striker incident…

Your phone rang. You nearly spit out your food, surprised. It was probably Loona. Nobody else called you this late at night, but she usually did when she wanted to vent about Blitzø even more than she did in the office. You would always lend an ear to your friend. You quickly finished the food that was in your mouth, then answered it, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hey, Loona. How’s Blitzø?”

There was quiet on the other end. A long quiet. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Loona would usually just start spewing whatever was on her mind. You almost pulled the phone away to see if you had accidentally hung up with your ear, but stopped when you heard a familiar voice.

“Blitzø…You were right, (Y/N). I’m sorry I wasn’t who you were expecting. Forgive me, I tried calling the desk, and I nearly gave up, but you left a message…just for me.”

You nearly cried. It was Stolas, calling you from who knew where, at this time of night. Why? What had you done to deserve his attention? After all this time? The icy feeling that you had been drowning in began to thaw, but was replaced by an even colder feeling from deeper within, as you heard the tone he was speaking in. You knew he was alone.

“St-Stolas?” you stuttered, trying to talk without letting your voice crack from emotion. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there—are you okay?”

“I’m alone, (Y/N). You were right. Blitzø doesn’t care about me. I’ve been giving him opportunities to get out of our meetings, for the past few months, and he took full advantage of them. I tried to meet him outside of the contract, but he said he was always busy. The way he texts…(Y/N), it’s always just enough to answer. Most of them are just one word responses. I…”

You let him ramble on, listening. Being friends with Loona had you prepared somewhat for this. You almost laughed, eyes getting wet. The way they both spoke about how Blitzø fucked with their lives, it was so similar. Blitzø was a good boss, and a good person at heart, but he never seemed to get relationships right. Neither as a father, nor as a partner. You heard Stolas begin to sob, and you started to get choked up yourself. You were being empathetic, but you really felt for the bird.

“He left me alone in the hospital. He ghosted me. He wasn’t there when that hunter nearly killed me. I was being brave, because I thought he would come rescue me. I was so stupid!”

You heard small thumps, and realized Stolas was hitting his fist against his forehead. His sobbing continued.

“At Asmodeus’s, he didn’t want to…I think he was just using me to get inside, to spy on that imp couple. It was humiliating. I was made a joke there, for sleeping with an imp. I lost my reputation, my daughter, by giving into this delusion that I had. Stupid, stupid!”

You heard more thumps of Stolas hitting his forehead, and you quickly asked him to stop. You thought about what Stolas had said, how he had been made a laughing stock for sleeping with an imp. You tried not to think about the fact that, not only were you a measly sinner, but you also looked like a hellhound, the lowest race on the metaphorical totem pole that was Hell’s hierarchy. It would be terrible for him to be seen with you. As a friend, of course. Being in a relationship with him had never crossed your mind before. Did you want that? You chided yourself for being selfish, thinking about how Stolas was hurting, and that this wasn’t about you. You started thumping your fist to your own head.

Stolas was too busy sobbing to hear you, and for that you had a modicum of gratefulness. The rest of you, the majority, ached with the pain that you felt for him. You heard it, the agony of loneliness in his voice as he spoke, and you blinked tears away. They started running down the fur of your cheeks despite your best efforts, and soon you were crying with him.

Stolas’s sobs lessened, but he still wept.

“Wh-Why are you crying?” he asked, voice destroyed by raw emotion. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea,” he sniffled, before hanging up quickly.

Your face filled with shock as he was just gone, just as suddenly as he appeared. Tears ran down your cheeks, and the icy feeling came back, harder than ever before, and your heart physically hurt, to the point that you clutched your chest, bracing yourself against the table.

You fumbled with your phone, trying to call him back. You needed to apologize to him. This was probably your only chance to: he might never talk to you again. You thumbed to your call history, quickly finding it at the top of the list. It rang once or twice, before you heard the sound of someone ending the call before they answered. It didn’t go to voicemail.

It killed you that Loona was right; you shouldn’t have gotten involved.

Still, you tried again, desperate. Maybe you could show him that you cared, by not giving up. He hung up again. You didn’t cave, calling for a third time. Again, cut off. You stopped, thinking that this was stupid. He didn’t want to talk to you before, and he didn’t want to talk to you now. But the icy ache threatened to consume you, and so you called for a fourth time, though it took you several minutes to work up the courage.

This time the call connected, and it rang, giving you hope. The second ring came, then the third. Your hope dwindled, and you dreaded it would go to voicemail. He might never listen to it. Then the fourth ring, and you were thrown into a pit of despair, thinking it was over, until, just before the final ring, Stolas answered.

It was quiet, like before, but you could hear his shaky breaths. You didn’t speak, fearful that if you did, he would hang up and silence his phone, before blocking you for good.

It remained quiet. The call continued, until you heard his breathing relax. Then, you became aware of your own. You were also taking shaky breaths, and tried to take deep ones to calm yourself down. Soon, you were both calm, breathing in tandem with one another. You still chose not to speak. Stolas did.

“I’m…I’m in a hospital in Sloth, if you wanted to come visit,” Stolas said, quietly.

You gave a pause.

“I’m not allowed down there,” you said, simply. Guilt flowed through your veins.

“Oh.”

Stolas was embarrassed, and disappointed. You could hear it in his voice. You knew that he knew you were a sinner; he had cradled your face when he had looked into your eyes, seeing you for what you really were. He had just forgotten you couldn’t leave Pride.

“Once you get out, I would like to talk with you again!” you said quickly, not wanting to leave the matter at that. “I could call you. After work, I mean. To keep you company.” You waited, feeling ice growing in your chest again when you didn’t hear a response after a while.

“I would like that.”

Quiet again. You could feel a twinge of warmth.

“I wanted to apologize,” you breathed, eager, now that he was speaking to you again. “For all those months ago. What I said wasn’t fair to you. It was stupid, and I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I was being an idiot.”

Stolas was silent only for a moment, before speaking again. “I accept your apology,” he said, a certain air of grace in his voice. You could almost see him in the chair across from you, being polite by closing his eyes and nodding his head. But he wasn’t there, not really. He spoke again.

“But I do want to thank you for it; what you said. I might’ve never found peace otherwise.”

With that, he hung up. You only panicked for a moment, before slowing your breathing and processing his words. You would talk with him again. He said he would like that. He had forgiven you. And then he had thanked you.

Your heart pounded hotly in your chest, and you could no longer feel your frozen insides.

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