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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months ago

Text

Punishment

Synopsis: Domestic hurt\comfort becomes domestic smut because Tiriel should have listened to her vampire and not risk her life.

Tags: hurt\comfort, smut, dom!Astarion, very long prelude to the smut, a lot of butt slapping + also some complications of having an active sex life when you have a child Based on this amazing art by @mutualcombat

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The fall was painful.

An enemy, a resurrected skeleton in heavy armor, easily pushed Tiriel from the cliff. Her armor and weapon left her no place for maneuver and the barbarian fell on the thin layer of ice that was covering the black waters of a lake.

Pain pierced her body. Tiriel gasped – every breath was agonizing as her ribs were broken. She coughed and immediately realized that a bone damaged the lungs.

Stupid, she thinks. So stupid.

The ice cracks and the waters take Tiriel.

“O’su, why are you angry?” Alethaine rubs her sleepy eyes.Whether her dhampirism is to blame or the quarter of human blood in her body, the girl sleeps like a cat, for much longer than human kids her age.

Astarion doesn’t mind this quirk of hers.

When she sleeps, she can’t run up to the ceiling and fall from there. And she won’t try to escape outside, especially at night following the call only vampires and dhampirs can hear.

“I am not!” Astarion huffs putting food onto a plate. The four-year-old elf yawns and grabs a spoon in a very clumsy manner. Then she sticks it into the oatmeal and Astarion suspects Alethaine is trying to find sweet pieces of berries there.

“You are angry,” Alethaine says. “I heard you and Mum fighting yesterday.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did!” Alethaine gets anoyed and hits the table with her small hand. “You were fighting!”

Astarion crosses his arms. Well, as a half undead Alethaine has extremely acute hearing. So acute that no matter how hard her parents try, she does hear noises from their bedroom she can’t yet comprehend.

And of course, she did hear her parents yelling at each other outside the house.

“Well, we had some… disagreements.”

Tiriel was offered a job. To help a bunch of adventurers retrieve a treasure from the dungeon deep in the High Wood. And his wife wanted to go so much that she couldn’t care less about what Astarion was saying.

That the job was dangerous.

That those morons who hired her had no idea what they were getting into.

That the weather was so shitty it made Icewind Dale look like Calimshan.

And Tiriel accused Astarion of controlling her. That he was possessive, that he didn’t want her to go without him – because he was fucking jealous!

Ridiculous.

“Why?” Alethaine demands answers.

“It was a bad idea to go alone, that’s all!” Astarion says. “Your mother will spend more gold on healing potions than she will earn!”

Alethaine’s ears twitch. She stops eating and pulls away.

“I don’t like when you fight,” she says.

“I don’t like either, princess. But it’s going to be alright! Your mother will come back and everything will be good!”

“O’si said she was bored,” Alethaine adds. “When she was reading me a story, she told me she was bored at home. Mum wanted to slay a monster like in that book.”

Astarion nods. Well, another thing he sometimes forgets. Whilst he feels comfortable and nice in their house, reading books, sewing clothes, and taking care of their child, Tiriel is a fighter. She is used to the roads, sleeping in the dirt, fighting, and drinking. Domestic life is exhausting – and she doesn't even know how to occupy herself when the blizzard howls in the woods.

When Alethaine was younger, she required all of Tiriel's attention, but now Alethaine is more or less independent – and the barbarian has started feeling…

…Bored…

“Still no excuse to risk herself!” Astarion protests. “Alethaine, your mum fights as if she was a vampire. And before, I used to be there to have her back or drag her to the healer. Those… morons…. Young idiots won’t do that for her!” Astarion quickly corrects himself.

“What does “moron” mean?”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“I did!”

“It means someone stupid. Just don’t repeat it anywhere, it’s a bad word.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Alethaine, eat your breakfast” Astarion bares his fangs as a threat.

The dhampir huffs and takes the spoon.

The next moment Astairon hears footsteps. Someone is coming to the front door.

“Vampire!” he hears the healer’s voice. “A quick word!”

Astarion opens the door. The female halfling doesn’t wear a winter jacket even though her house is many blocks away.

And there is an aura of…

Fear…

“What happened?”

And the Astarion catches a familiar scent. Way too familiar to ignore.

The healer’s sleeves are covered in Tiriel’s blood.

Tiriel feels like dying. She knows she is dying.

The dark waters dragged her under the ice trying to murder her. So stupid. Astarion warned her not to go and he was right. He has a better perception of danger than her. She should have listened.

She didn’t.

Was it some stupid pride preventing her from listening to her husband? Or just the exhausting boredom she endured at home?

Anyway, she is dying.

She is leaving her husband and daughter alone.

Alethaine will grow up barely knowing her.

Astarion … Can he survive without her? Twenty-four years is such a short time for him to heal…

Tiriel failed them both.

Then, she starts suffocating. Primal fear suppresses everything sentient about Tiriel – and it awakes the rage in her.

The ice wounds her hands as she crawls to the surface, bleeding and freezing.

And then the rage leaves her with only a fever.

Ttiriel barely remembers anything after that. She knows someone carried her somewhere.

Voices, insults.

A pair of red eyes staring at her in a dimly lit room.

A child crying.

“Is she dying?! Dad, is Mum going to die?!”

Tiriel wants to console her daughter, but she is too weak. The healing potion burns her throat, but it’s not enough to repair the damage.

“Astarion, she has frostbite. If the potions don’t help, I will have to cut her leg off.”

Tiriel is hit by a wave of panic. No, not cutting her limbs off! No, they can’t do this to her!

Pain. Fever. Thirst. Difficulty breathing. Tiriel wants to scream but she can’t. She can’t move, she can’t see anything.

Another cry. An angry voice forcing the child to go away.

Gentle hands. Cold skin.

Astarion.

Tiriel tries to open her eyes to see him but can’t. She needs to see him. She needs to make sure he’s not a hallucination. That he has come to save her.

But then, the darkness takes her and there is no pain anymore.

Astarion leans on the kitchen table. It’s over. Tiriel is getting better. She has made it. They didn't even have to cut her leg.

She is home.

It will take her months to fully heal, of course, but she isn’t dying. That's the most important thing.

Astarion takes his blood-stained shirt off, suppressing the desire to chew the soaked fabric.

“Daddy.”

He turns around and sees the dhampir. She’s been crying – damn, she is still crying – and stands in the kitchen hugging a plushie dragon.

“What is it, princess?”

“Is mum going to be alright?”

“Yes,” Astarion puts on the clean shirt, the one made of black fabric.

“Why did you yell at me?”

Astarion feels guilty. The last thing he was thinking about was how the whole situation was perceived by a four-year-old child – he just didn’t want her to be in the same room with her mutilated mother.

“I am sorry,” Astarion lifts the girl up. “Sorry for yelling”.

“Is mum really going to be all right or you just say so?” Alethaine insists.

“She is going to be all right… She just needs rest”

“Dad.”

“Hm?”

“We aren’t letting her go anywhere anymore,” Alethaine says.

Astarion chuckles. “Well, I don’t think we can prevent her from going outside, but you can express your concerns about her behavior”.

A week later Tiriel feels more or less capable of standing up. All these days, she was basically nursed by her little family – Astarion was spending all his time near her bed. Alethaine would come to check asking if she needed anything and was extremely proud of herself when Tiriel asked the girl to bring her a glass of water or medicine.

Tiriel gets up, puts on her trousers and a shirt, and goes looking for Astarion. Alethaine is fast asleep in her bed, barely visible among pillows and plushies.

Perks of not needing to breathe – Alethaine can bury herself in soft blankets and experience nothing but warmth and comfort.

And, if one day she is thrown into a frozen lake she won’t drown.

One less thing to worry about, Tiriel thinks.

Tiriel finds Astarion in the basement where they stash artifacts and gold.

“Hello, my sweet,” Astarion smiles, but Tiriel knows he is faking it. He is upset. Angry. And gods know what else.

“Hello,” Tiriel sits beside him. “I'm feeling much better.”

“Good.”

The silence is so heavy it causes discomfort. Tiriel touches his shoulder and suddenly he flinches as if this form of intimacy were out of the question.

“Are you angry?” Tiriel asks.

“Oh, thank you for asking,” Astarion closes the book and throws it at the wall. The heavy volume immediately becomes a pile of paper. “I am!”

Tiriel bites her lip. She is ashamed of herself. Of what she did.

“Why couldn't you listen to me?! Do my words mean nothing to you, Tiriel?!” Astarion's eyes glow red. “You could have died!”

“I am sorry!”

“I am very well aware of the fact I am going to overlive you. But could you not make it happen so soon?! Alethaine was crying her eyes out. Because she fucking saw you bleeding to death! She has nightmares! and I… I…” he sits on the floor grabbing the fistful of his hair. “Tiriel… I…”

The words are stuck in his mouth and Tiriel kneels in front of him. Then, she cups his cheeks and kisses the bridge of his nose. Then she proceeds to kiss his forehead and lips.

“I am sorry, Astarion. I will listen to you next time, I promise.”

“You can’t even understand how much I want to lock you somewhere,” he says.

“Astarion, we’ve been there. I know you are possessive. But love isn’t about control, unless it is a bedroom play.”

He nods and kisses her wrist.

Tiriel smiles. “How can I … pay for my disobedience?”

Astarion suspiciously looks at her. He is examining her, she realizes. Trying to understand if he can… make her pay.

Tiriel unfastens the claps of his shirt, baring his chest. Then she kisses his right nipple and teases it with her tongue.

Astarion lets out a moan but, instead of undressing Tiriel, pushes her away.

“Astarion?” she hesitates. How angry is he, actually?

“You told me you want to pay.” He sits on the bench. “Then you will.”

Tiriel giggles.

“As you wish, my lord, '' she says. “How will I do it?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“I obey,” Tiriel undresses and throws the clothes on the stone floor. Astarion studies her body – scars, fresh bruises. Tiriel nods, inviting him to continue their game.

What is he thinking about?

“Turn around,” he orders and she obeys. “Now, kneel!”

Tiril cringes feeling the harsh and cold surface with her knees. Astarion stands beside her and puts his arms on her shoulders. His grasp is strong and Tiriel admires how truly strong he is as a vampire.

Fangs pierce the nape of her neck. She gasps, but Astarion hardly takes any blood; he just licks some with his cold tongue.

“You were a terribly bad girl,” he murmurs. “Not listening to what I say!”

Tiriel smiles. Astarion is fully clothed, but she suspects he is already hard.

He pinches her nipples forcing her to moan.

“What are the odds she won't hear us?” Tiriel whispers and Astarion immediately shuts her mouth with his cold palm.

“We could have built torture chambers for people like your recent clients here and princess wouldn’t have suspected anything.”

“Hm, then we need to bring a bed here.”

“Then she will suspect. Now shut up and let me make you pay for your misdeeds!” Astarion clenches his hands around her neck and forces Tiriel to lie on the stone floor.

She feels his cold finger touching her pussy. He gently tracks along her labia, forcing her core to get wet.

Tiriel expects him to get inside, but it doesn’t happen as he keeps teasing her.

“Astarion…”

The next moment, the index finger of his left hand is in her mouth.

“Suck it!” He orders.

Tiriel wraps her lips around his finger and makes suckling movements trying to catch the same rhythm Astarion has teasing her pussy.

The heat between her legs became unbearable. She wants to beg him to at least fill her with his fingers, but instead, he abruptly lets her go.

She sits up in front of him as if she were enslaved and he was her captor and master deciding her fate. Tiriel waits, letting him savor the image.

Then he kneels in front of her. His smile is coy and his eyes are tender and Tiriel thinks the play is over – and that he is going to become his usual self in terms of sex. Maybe even much sweet and tender – compensation for all the years of rough fucking.

But then, he tugs her to his lap. His free hand tugs her half-elven ear.

And then he slaps her.

The sensation is so unexpected that Tiriel lets out a cry and then feels tears pricking her eyes. Another slap, stronger and rougher.

She elbows up a bit and feels the bump between his legs.

Then a pause. Astarion waits. Tiriel can leave. She can say she doesn't like it. That the stone floor hurts her elbows, that the whole thing is embarrassing. That she feels cold or not fully healed.

But she doesn’t say anything. Instead,she moves a bit, making it more comfortable for him to keep slapping her naked butt.

SLAP

His hand is cold and strong, and Tiriel knows it will be hard to sit.

SLAP

Tiriel concentrates on the painful pleasure, allowing herself to melt in it. Her whole world is narrowed down to the torture she inflicted upon herself.

SLAP

“Will you disobey me again?” Astarion demands.

“No, I never will! Aah!”

“What if I say it’s fucking dangerous to go alone next time?”

“I will listen!”

SLAP

“Good,” he stops. His fingers are placed on her pussy again as he gets distracted by her scent.

Tiriel squirms and moans in his arms as he keeps playing with the swell of her sex.

“Please…” Tiriel whimpers.

“What is it, bad girl?”

“I want you inside of me… please…”

But Astarion doesn't listen. His fingers play with her as if she was a musical instrument. Astarion knows all of her sensitive spots. He knows how to make her come, how to make her a mindless half-elf. He's learned her body thoroughly. In a both possessive and selfless way.

Tiriel feels her orgasm approaching. She clenches her fists and lets out a cry as she reaches her peak.

She doesn't feel cold anymore. Tiriel pants and mewls as Astarion finally lets her go.

He caresses her cheek in the most tender way possible and kisses her.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Tiriel puts her hands on the lace of his trousers, but instead of letting her continue, he gently pulls her away.

“No,” Astarion firmly says.

“Why?”

“Because you are still healing.”

“Astarion, are you fucking serious?! You’ve been slapping me!”

“Yes. I was slapping your butt not lying on top of you”.

“We can do it in a different way!”

“And it still involves some form of physical activity from you. Or me absolutely ravishing you. No. You will get better and only then we will fuck each other into oblivion.”

“And what are you going to do about this?” she pokes the bump to feel the delicious hardness below the fabric.

“I will use my hand.”

“Save it for the time when I am away,” Tiriel unlaces the trousers, freeing his cock.

“Hand or mouth?” she asks, tracing her finger along the shaft.

“Mouth… And keep…eye contact…please.”

“As you wish,'' Tiriel kisses the tip of his cock. Over the years they have been together, Tiriel learned how his body reacts to her touches.

In a moment she’s already swallowed it fully – tears flow down her cheeks. She moves her lips and tongue along the shaft, never breaking eye contact.

Astarion groans and grabs a fistful of her hair. His cock is cold and hard, but his sensitive, soft skin is quickly getting warmer in Tiriel’s mouth, and she wishes to prolong his pleasure.

But it’s so damn cold in the basement.

Suddenly, she feels being pulled away. Tiriel lets the cock go. Astarion grabs it with his free hand, makes a few stroking movements, and then the white liquid spills over her breasts.

Tiriel stands up shivering from the cold, and only now does she realize how truly intense the slapping was.

Astarion laces his trousers and quickly kisses Tiriel's lips and when she tries to put on her clothes back he wraps her shoulders in a blanket and lifts her in the air.

“Let's go to our normal bed,” he says.

“Only if you stay there with me,” Tiriel pouts.

“Of course, love, of course!”

Minutes later, Tiriel lies in Astarion’s arms – he’s insisted on wiping her breasts and pussy himself – and now she can just enjoy the comfort.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“I promise to listen to your advice next time.”

“Thank you, love.”

By the time spring starts, Tiriel finally feels well enough to wield her weapon and wear her armor. Astarion knows she longs for a fight and a good adventure, and it would be too ungrateful for him to try to lock her down and guilt-trip her into always staying by his side.

But someone needs to keep an eye on their daughter and Astarion slowly makes peace with the thought that Tiriel will indeed have to go away without him from time to time.

Astarion puts his old bedroll on the stone basement floor. There was a period when this imitation of a bed was the most comfortable thing he owned. Well, there was a period when he thought getting kisses from Tiriel was merely a reward for his services, not a genuine demonstration of affection.

“No, don't go!” he hears Alethaine’s voice. “Mum! Don’t go!”

“It’s all right, kitten. I will be back in a week. I will bring you a gift from Secomber.”

“No! I want you to stay! Dad!” Astarion hears small footsteps – Alethaine is forbidden from going to the basement due to all the dangerous artefacts stashed there, so she stops on the top step. “Dad, Mum is going somewhere! Again!”

Astarion goes up and sees an absolutely angry four-year-old dhampir pointing at her mother who is preparing for a trip.

“That’s all right, she promised not to fight anything stronger than her,” Astarion picks the girl up.

“She will find things that are stronger!”

Tiriel approaches them, hugs Astarion from behind, and caresses her daughter’s cheek. “Kitten, I will be back soon, you will see. And when you grow up, you will also have someone who won’t want you to go away – but you sometimes will have to.”

“When I am as big as you, I will have a little girl,” Alethaine says. “And when she asks me to stay, I will!”

Astarion chuckles – well, he hasn’t got used to the idea of having a daughter even though she is four and the very idea of having a grandchild eventually sounds even less realistic than him regaining his mortality.

“That will be your choice,” Tiriel kisses. “What do you want me to get you?”

“I want a book about elves,” Alethaine says.

“Ok, I will take a look for something interesting.”

Alethaine pulls away, showing that she wants to go. Astarion puts her back and the girl immediately disappears into her room.

“Are you leaving in the morning?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel nods. “Something on your mind?”

“Actually yes,” Astarion takes Tiriel's hand and makes her follow him downstairs. “Besides,” he playfully pushes Tiriel on the bedroll, “Our best nights were on the road in our old tent!”

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dreamyyesenia · 14 days ago

Text

Always Keep Simming - Secrets unveiled and the broken Spellcaster

Aileen arrived at the address the unknown number had sent her 2 nights later. It was very cold and a blizzard had started. Still, she was determined to get to her husband, wherever he was.

The secret sim with the initial „R.“ was no one other than Aileen‘s ex boyfriend from college, Raven Nirwada. She hadn’t known he‘d been a Spellcaster, all this time. It explained why he had spent so many nights elsewhere, never being able to tell her what he was doing… „Come, let’s go to our tavern, I‘ll tell you everything I know“, he said and led her through the heavy falling snow.

At the Glimmerbrook tavern, Raven introduced Aileen to a Spellcaster named Maddox. „Hi, I met your husband on his first night here. I‘m sorry I guided him to the portal to the Realm of Magic. We didn’t know Jenna Blackburn was as cruel and dangerous as she came out to be…“, he apologized. „You couldn’t have known. Let’s just talk about how we’re going to get to him and help him out of this mess!“, Aileen stated. They all ordered a few drinks to get warm. Colin was apparently held hostage in the Headquarters dungeon, forced to make the immortality potion for his grandmother. Raven said:“I think we could find him outside at night, he’s allowed to go out to gather ingredients for potions.“ Aileen stood up quickly. „Well, what are you waiting for then! Let’s go!!“

Raven put an invisibility spell on Aileen and they quickly traveled to the portal to the Realm of Magic.

Meanwhile in the Realm of Magic…

Colin was so tired. He couldn’t remember how much time had gone by, he didn’t remember sleeping or eating at all. He had been studying potions, trying to make the immortality potion for his grandmother. He was overcharged most of the time, dangerously so. He asked for permission to rest, but his grandmother ignored him. She clearly didn’t see or want to acknowledge how weak her grandson had gotten.

The sages of untamed and practical magic had found out that Colin was working for his grandmother and not against her and attacked him when he was outside looking for ingredients for a potion to brew. The sage of untamed magic challenged him to a heated duel, something Colin could not refuse to participate in. His grandmother was sure he would win, so she didn't interfere either. Colin was too tired to think of any spells to attack his opponent with. It was looking like a pretty easy duel for the sage of untamed magic...

#alwayskeepsimmingsave #ts4 #simblr #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 stories #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 gameplay #sims4 stories #ts4 story #ts4 legacy #sims4 #the sims 4 screenshots #sims legacy #sims story #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 gameplay

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koboldfactory · 2 months ago

Note

so i would like to ask about how magic is powered and works in your world.

like, how it works, how minds interact with magic, and what is the fundamental "mana" making magic up, if there is just one type?

Magic comes from 3 main sources in my world

1 - the ambient energy filling the atmosphere as a result of The Rift Star pouring out of the earth’s core (this is basically Mana)

2 - condensed elemental energy crystals that appeared suddenly thousands of years ago

3 - harnessing the power of one’s own soul

runes and spell circles can be used to harness and modify these energies into refined and complex magics. Runes in my setting resemble circuits to a degree combined with symbols that represent universal concepts, why these symbols function and who gave them meaning remain mysteries lost to time.

Also magic cannot be cast without a catalyst or runes. Forming complex spells out of thin air is considered the domain of the gods. You can like strike a magic crystal and make it explode but you’re not gonna cast “precise lightning strike blizzard attack III” doing that, nor can you “blows up pancakes with mind” either.

Potions can also be made with magic through the use of runes and mixing elemental crystals with the ingredients.

#koboldasks #koboldfactory lore

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warnersister · 1 year ago

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The Three Instances that Tom Riddle denied his love for you and The One Instance he didn’t.

Tom Riddle x Reader

The first instance - Not enough seating on a cold winter’s morn

Tom was allowing himself to indulge in a book while sipping on a butter beer in Hogsmeade, finding a source of comfort in the warm building - a rather oxymoronic atmosphere to the bismal blizzard beyond the doors. However, what wasn’t comforting was the rest of Hogwarts being practically packed into the building - others having a similar idea to Tom, however deciding against a silent narrative; and. Instead opting for a loud and irritating conversion across the building.

Something implored him to look up from the page he had been repeating in his mind for the last twenty minutes to glance towards the door. The bell had been a constant ring however for some reason only this one drew him to it. Your face was red and your teeth were chattering, frosted flakes forming on your lashes and lips plump as a reaction to the cold. Your mouth flashed into an excitable grin when you saw your friends, making an effort to remove the matching white earmuffs and gloves and shrugging off the similar coat. He noticed how despite the wind and snow, your hair managed to stay perfectly intact, finalised by a black ribbon pulled into a bow to hold the final pesky strands back into a more visually satisfactory position.

Tom wanted to tell himself that it was sickly how perfect you looked, but he was also knowledgable enough to know the way his heart started to palpitate and how beads of sweat emitted from his forehead despite his cold stature wasn’t by chance - his heart could not lie so he settled on confused. Never before had he felt such strong emotions but then again he welcomed the swarm of butterflies encircling his stomach. After all, your presence was keeping him warm.

His eyes darted back to his book when you began to approach him and a flurry of questions rose in his brain. Why were you coming towards him? Did he have something on his face? What did you want? Did you reserve this table? And why was he panicking? “Excuse me?” You say, voice small yet sweet giving a delightful contrast to the bustling environment surround you both. He silently cleared his voice. “Can I help you?” He replied, surprising himself as he mirrored your sweetening voice. “I’m terribly sorry to bother, but is this seat taken? I’m afraid we are void of some.” You say, sincerity in your tone and your face visualised your apologetic comment. “Oh no, not at all. Please” he motioned to the chair and you thank him with a grin, taking it and sitting beside your friends.

The butter beer you were handed gave you a frosted stash and you licked it away quickly with a giggle. Tom thought wall he was watching one of those wizard porno magazines he had found on his dorm-mates bedside table. You were too perfect and he hated it.

Yes. He hated it.

The second instance - Tom is late.

He needn’t have been late. Thomas Riddle was never late. On time is late and early is on time in his book. His watch was lying. But no, his swift entrance into the potions classroom proved futile as everyone was already seated and settled. “Welcome, Mr Riddle please find a seat.” His teacher said, lucky to be favourites and his eyes calmly darted for a chair.

“The seat beside me is free, if you would like.” I voice spoke quietly from beside him and he peered down to see your doe eyes peering back kindly at him. “Yes, thank you.” He sat and soon realised he was unsure of what a was going on.

Your elbow touched his side slightly, drawing him away from his thoughts and towards you. You lean in and whisper “I’m aware you like to write your own notes, but I hope these are good enough to help you catch up.” You hand him your own that are scrawled in a declare and sophisticated hand and smile, turning away. Your whisper made his hair stand on end and spine shiver. He didn’t understand why something as simple as your made him feel this way, blaming it on the temperature of the dungeons and not you.

Soon enough however, it was time for the practical work to commence and he was therefore stuck being your partner. Not that he minded, of course. He just told himself he did. You were each gathering ingredients, you had spit the list into two and appointed one another different roles of which he just complied and went along with, scuttling about to source what you needed.

Walking back towards the cauldron, you find yourself suddenly getting caught on another student’s protruded chair and lurching ever so ungracefully falling. Tom turns as you do so, and for some reason instinctively dripping his own supplies to catch you and break your fall, landing in some sort of forbidden classical dance finale. You look up at him, breath caught in your throat as he mirrors your expression. He eyes you, looking you over concerned that you had hurt yourself. “Are you alright?” He asks, small and you nod, allowing him to help you back to your feet. “Yes, just a little surprised that’s all. Thank you, Tom.” You give him a small smile and hold his arm then turn back to the task at hand.

The student who’s chair it was hurries over to apologise. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so lazy to not put the stool where it belongs she wouldn’t have been in this predicament.” Tom snaps at the student who silences his apology, turning away and handing his head.

Tom looks at you both surprised at himself for protecting you and for the look you were giving him. A mischievous smile. “Aren’t you a knight in shining armour?” You giggle and he chuckles with a smirk. “Shouldn’t have been so negligent.”

But Tom shouldn’t have protected you, Tom Riddle let’s damsels in distress fall. Tom Riddle does not do selflessness.

The Third Instance - Your Festive Nature Rubs Off On Him

Christmas - the muggle celebration - was fast approaching. Spirits were high in Hogwarts and students were busy awaiting excitable festivities and warming hot chocolate; schoolwork discarded and teachers uncaring as they too felt the jolly spirit. But not Tom.

Tom thought it was ridiculous that people so incredible and wise as wizards and witches would celebrate such a lowly muggle holiday. He was quite happy to tuck himself away in the darkest corner of the library until it was all over. Some much needed studying was to be done and he wouldn’t let this infuriating date ruin his exceptional record.

Tom was nose deep into a pile of books taller than himself, when he heard footsteps fast approaching. He peered up slightly to see who dared to disrupt him and had to double take as he noticed it was you. You were adorned in bright red despite being a devoted green, holding a box of sickly sweet decor between your hands, walking towards him with a strong and meaningful stride - you wanted something.

“May I interest you in a Christmas Biscuit or Father Christmas hat?” You ask, holding your treats towards him and he complies by peering into the box of goods. If it was anyone else he would’ve pushed the box out of their hands or use foul language to send them on their way. But for some reason he was yet to put his finger on, not you. “No thank you.” He says and you let out a dramatic sigh.

“A man as hard working as yourself surely needs some sugar to keep his energy up.” You wave a gingerbread man in front of him with a hopeful grin. He eyes you slightly and decided it would be simpler to take the sweet goodness from your hands than to argue, not because it was you - he was just hungry, his growling stomach of which he had been neglecting told him so. It wasn’t you at all.

Your lips form a gleeful smile as he accident lets out a satisfied hum at the taste. “I am a good baker when it comes to Christmas.” You tell him then wrestle through your box and put and odd shaped cylinder-like object, holding one side and encouraging him to pull at the other.

You raised a brow but you remain stubborn and shake the object and it rattles, dull. “It’s a cracker, please indulge and humour me on this one, Tom.” He nearly melts at your words and holds onto the other side, jumping slightly and feeling all gooey when he hears your giggle at his reaction. He holds the full side and does indeed humour you, curiosity killing the cat as he peers inside; pulling out a small muggle rubber duckling, a joke card, and a purple party hat.

He looks from his prize to you and you take the joke from his hands. “What do you sing at a snowman’s birthday party?” You asked, voice overflowing with a sense of humour. “What?” He allows himself to indulge. “Freeze a jolly good fellow.” You laugh and he smirks. “I know you found that funny, Thomas you are allowed to laugh.” You jokingly tell him, removing the party hat from its plastic confinements and reaching to put it on his head.

He should feel repulsed, horrified, disgusted, yet he allows you to put the purple hat on his head and stand between his legs to adjust it perfectly. Your tongue protruded from your lips slightly in concentration and he was enthralled by the sight, a warm bubbly feeling in his stomach when you look down at him. “Perfect.” You conclude and step back.

“Well I’ll allow you to get back to your studying, thank you for that, Tommy.” You say and make your leave. Tommy. What an awful nickname. You should call it him more often.

Tom thumbed the rubber duck and surveyed it for a few moments, before placing it into his breast pocket and tapping it securely as it began to thaw his cold chest, moving to adjust his oversized hat.

Tom enjoyed your unbearable love-ability.

The Instance When Tom Submitted - The Yule Ball.

Tom believed the Yule Ball to be a pointless annual ceremony. Drinks, facing, festivities, how pathetic. What infuriated him the most was how everyone was crowding in the common room to seek out their friends or nightly companions to accompany them to the great hall. How dare they interrupt his peaceful study period!

His breath caught abruptly in his throat when you descended the stairs of the girl’s dormitories. Your skin was glittery and radiating, reflecting from the contrasting black breaded gown tight on your body, corset forcing your breasts to sit in a forcibly plump and admirable position. You hair was in a tight up-do, a headband matching your dress, black lace gloves highlighting the dark and fluorescent green on your well-kept manicured nails, Vivian Westwood flats on your feet and a red lip to tie of the lip. Tom thought he had died and ascended to the holy land where he would reside after death.

You notice his stairs from beyond his book and give him a sweet, adorable tight-lipped smile before descending the final step and joining your friends who were each being complimented by their dates as yours interlocked your arms. Tom felt a horrible twang in his chest as the man touched you - how dare he? How dare he lay his eyes upon you? How dare he breathe your precious oxygen? How dare he - Tom shook his head, ignorantly ignoring his thoughts and forcing his brain to absorb another several paragraphs of perfection-worthy potions essays.

Tom had the common room all to himself. It was peaceful, it was relaxing, it was ideal. But his calm world came crashing around him when the sound of familiar sobs echoed from the entrance of the common room and drew closer. Looking up, he noticed the rivers of ruined mascara and smudged lipstick on your face and his face immediately dropped, discarding his book and standing to stride over to you. You lol up at him, slightly surprised at his response your entrance and allow him to survey you.

“What happened? Are you alright? What did he do?” He bombarded you with questions in an unfamiliar; caring tone. “He left me to go dance with some Ravenclaw who had her breasts practically hanging out. I was forced to sit by myself while I watched my friends dance with their partners and not once been offered a hand. I feel foolish.” You say and Tom’s knuckles go white at his sides from clenching them at your words.

Very much in his own control, he lifts his thumbs to wipe below your eyes and remove the remnants of sadness the residue of your tears had left behind. As much as he wanted to kill the foolish boy, to hex him, to torture him, to make him feel the pain you did currently, his heart told him that you needed him and his comfort more than he needed revenge on your behalf.

“He is the foolish one. He does not deserve you. He should be lucky he still has eyes look at you and a voice still to apologise with.” He says. “You should not have accompanied him, regardless.” He adds. “Who was I supposed to go with? Myself?” You laughs slightly. He shakes his head in response. “I’ll have you know I rejected a plentiful number of offerings and accompanied him as a last resort.” His eyebrow quirks in confusion. “And what did he have that the other bachelors lacked?” “Nothing. A small, foolish part of me ridiculously hoped that you would have asked, Tom.” You said in a small voice looking into his eyes.

His heart beats quick and his breathing stops. The moment in frozen as the world surrounding you both spins in a painful cycle. He looks down at you and forfeits. He surrenders. He raises his white flag. He admits the reason he loved you so much was because he simply did and it was an unavoidable conclusion.

“Perhaps I would have attended such a ridiculous event if you were by my side.” The sides of your mouth quirk into a small smile which quickly drops as you look above your head. Curious, Tom does the same and a small, white-berried bush becomes suddenly apparent. “Mistletoe. What a ridiculous muggle tradition.” He says quietly enough for you to hear it. He then looks down to you and notices the disappointment in your face. “It’s a good job your gingerbread was as delicious as it was, I may have to indulge once more - just this once.” He says and dips his head down and leans in.

Your soft lips touch his and a powerful firework erupts in his stomach in a euphoric manner, settling his inner dispute with a true loves kiss. You each pull away and you go to rest your head against his chest but get confused by the dull ache in your cheek. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the small duck. “Turns out I enjoy indulging.” He tells you, leaning back in to continue his euphoria.

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snarrybang · 3 months ago

Text

Backhanded Compliments

by Trueliarose on AO3, for @realfatesmistake, FatesMistake on AO3

Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall

Additional Tags: Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Teacher Harry Potter, Romance, Matchmaker Minerva McGonagall, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Veritaserum Potion (Harry Potter)

Words: 19,607

Summary: In hopes of keeping disputes between her colleagues to a minimum, Headmistress McGonagall has Severus and Harry sign a contract. What she didn't tell them is the consequences of breaking the new rules, or that there was only one way to stop the annoying punishment: set aside their differences and reconcile. What could go wrong?

SnarryBANG! 2024 Gift Exchange AO3 collection

Guessing game: who wrote what?

Gorgeous banner by @ac1d6urn! ID under the cut

Severus scrutinizes Harry, who is face to face with Severus' patronus, a silver doe with bright green eyes swooping in with the magic whirlwind resembling a winter blizzard. Both Harry and the doe are mesmerised with one another. The tip of Harry's index finger is over the tip of Severus' wand. Harry is holding up lily of the valley blossoms below the doe's chin. Harry's cravat is green with white decorations to match the flowers. Severus' expression is stern and attentive. Behind him, bats descend from the top of the drawing. A tree stretches its branches behind Harry. They are enveloped in sunrise pinks and blues of the sky. A full moon hovers between Severus and Harry's figures, with a solitary shadowed spec of a bat against its yellow glow.

#snarry #severus snape #harry x severus #snape #harry/severus #harry/snape #snarrybang #snarryBANG24 #harry james potter #fanfiction

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pigeonpeach · 2 years ago

Text

Yandere Genshin men

Content warning: kidnapping, drugging, lots and LOTS OF MANIPULATION, lots of mentions of murder including of reader in some cases. Also this is a yandere post ofc shits disturbing please proceed with caution

Characters included: Scaramouche, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Ayato

Kaeya: Manipuulator

Lets be honest Kaeya wouldn’t be the typical kidnapper and basement yandere unless it was REALLY the ONLY option. But any freedom he gives you is pretty much a illusion. He’s a charming man, he’ll find a way to sweep someone like you off your feet and wrapped around his finger. He’ll always try to come off as the most capable and smart between you two. He won’t demand you stop seeing a male friend he doesn’t like. He’ll find some way to get said friend to slip up or fall out of your good graces. Framing, blackmail, whatever. Last on the list is murder. Which of course he’d get away with. He’d plant seeds into your head that as a captain its his duty to protect, he knows this game so you could at least listen to him. Celestia could not save you if you were a anxious or shy type. He’d play into your fears to the point you would willingly stay home all day with no need for chains or shackles. He has no need to immediately dive into extreme actions but he has nothing really stopping him from doing so completely. If someone poses a threat to his charade, they will be cut down. They won’t get the chance to utter a word.

Scaramouche: Scared

He actually does love you. If he can love at all that is. He however has never experienced a healthy permanent love. He’s certain you’ll leave one day. He doesn’t like hurting you. He likes controlling you. Because surely then he could keep you from leaving right? If you ever do want to leave you’ll have to fake your death if you really want to. And even so could bear hearing his cries. He’s not that much of a crier but he had foolishly hoped he could keep you at least that. He was a fool to think love could give him the heart he seeked. Never let him find you again after this. Because he will probably just kill you. After the fake out he come to the conclusion his love was s waste of energy he will be more eager to rid himself of his obsession than he will be to keep you alive. So if you stay instead you’ll have to drag him to some therapy.

Childe: Hunter

Oh boy. Arguably the worst so far. He’ll drag you to a cabin in His wintery hell homeland and let you experience the cold with nothing to aid you. Only to swoop in to save the day before you can die. So you’ll know to leave his home is death guaranteed. He’ll put you through hell til it feels like heaven. You’ll learn to crave his affection doting side. The caring husband. You’ll learn to cling to him. You won’t have a choice. If he has to he’ll drug you. Some kind of love potion perhaps? Whatever it takes. He however does want to love you. He does want nothing more than to just let you be a stay at home partner waiting on him to visit. Guarded by fatui soldiers with hearts as cold as a blizzard. To come home to you and a couple kiddos. He’ll be a loving father to them and you. He just has to… break you in a little before he can safely believe in you.

Diluc: Protector

Well at least you won’t be totally alone. Or totally trapped. You’ll be watched by the maids and locked in the mansion you’ll be allowed to go outside only when he’s there. With his hand tight around your waist, having already cleared any camps of monsters or treasure hoarders miles away. He’ll do everything to make you feel more comfortable here. He can’t afford to lose you. And really he does have a point when he says the world isn’t safe for you now. You’re the lover of Diluc, enemy of the Abyss Order and the Fatui. There is no way they wouldn’t take advantage of you. There is no way they wouldn’t snatch you away within a instant. He could never live with himself if he let that be the case. You’ll never be bored if you’re good. He’ll get you art supplies if you wish, any books that you would like. Even pets if you would like. Perhaps if he was really really in a good mood he may just maybe take you into town. Probably on a more proper date. He’d be easy to trick at least. You need only to kiss him on the cheek or perk up whenever he enters the room, to curl yourself into his body at night, hold his face gently and lovingly and he’ll become pure putty in your grasp. Its really just Adeline you gotta watch for she’s not blinded by the desperation for affection that Diluc is. You will have to put on quite the show to convince her too. And even if you did find a way to escape, you might find Diluc was right when he said the world isn’t safe for you anymore. What organization wouldn’t be able to capture a mere mortal to use as a bargaining chip for their most hated enemy. So maybe, you really should stay.

Kamisato Ayato: Spoiled

Ayato is a prized bachelor of high society. He could have anyone with a mere point of his finger. No family would resist him. No parent would deny him. So why do you? Why do you insist on playing hard to get when he’s already got you by your ball and chain? Truly you must be blind or damaged if you think being with him is so bad. He no doubt has you observed 24/7. Eventually one day a masked man tries to attack you and who should come to your aid but the very man who holds you hostage. He’ll hold you while you tremble muttering nonsense as he whispers sweet reassurances into your ears. Every moment without him seems to be terrifying all of the sudden. You’re left alone most of the time as you refuse to be obedient and suddenly you find you’ve become insanely paranoid to the point you start begging and pleading for ayato to come. Anyone will do you just can’t be alone. You become so needy for his affection never noticing your daily drink of water in the morning is a tad bit salty. He’d definitely drug you but more or less to get you to associate him with comfort and safety so that you’ll come to love him. But if he has to keep drugging your water then that’s fine too. Whatever he wants he gets and he will have you.

#yandere childe x reader #mild yandere themes #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere scaramouche #yandere kaeya #yandere diluc #yandere ayato #yandere tartaglia #genshin imagines #kunikushi x reader #wanderer x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you #childe #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #kaeya x reader

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shithowdy · 9 months ago

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I miss old skool Death Knight rp so much. I know there are classic servers and people who are still dedicated but I’m so checked out of WoW now. I came back to tumblr recently and all my old WoW mutuals seem to have had the exact same experience since 2018~2019 of just completely checking out of the game. Most of us seem to have quit even before the big Blizzard scandals.

But idk, I just get so nostalgic for Acherus. I don’t think I’ll ever get over Death Knights 💀 I didn’t play on US servers but I always wished (I could have joined you all!)

It really was a flash-in-the-pan type of RP that can never truly be revisited, and I miss it terribly sometimes. With the scourge plotline basically concluded not once but twice-over for good measure, the whole premise of the class loses its identity and casts them adrift and without purpose-- something for which they were always sort of destined, but with Shadowlands even things like the crises of faith and redemption and what happens when they finally let go and properly join the dead are negated. The uncertainty and fear of it all is what made them so interesting!

When I left the game, it felt like 90% of the RP happening was very "domestic"-- family dynamics, shipping, people having bake sales, exploration/travel, picnics, parties. It can be occasionally fun to see how a living weapon tries to fit into that sort of dynamic, but I personally found it quickly tiresome and unfulfilling as the moral quandaries of existing at all fell to the wayside. It's very hard to continue to RP someone grappling with their identity when all the other RPers are basically going "oh yeah i just drink a potion to stop the endless hunger so i can run my fashion business :)", and rather than mire in my lore snobbery I just... left.

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 10 months ago

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The Warmth of Your Arms and Heart-Lambert

Little bit of swearing, but other then that, it's mostly fluff, and maybe some suggestive stuff that occurred in passing and flirtatious innuendo.

It was the middle of the day when you were stoking the fire. A snow storm was raging outside your cottage right now, and you had been huddled under some blankets while keeping the fire going. As the village's local herbalist, you lived outside of town on your own, but you didn't mind it as it was rather peaceful being out in nature, and you had the company of your goats and chickens if things got too lonely.

And people from the village or from out of town would come visit you on occasion for various salves, herbal potions, and remedies.

There had been less visitors as the weather started to turn cold, so you spent most of that time preparing for the upcoming winter from chopping firewood, gathering straw, and making sure the pens and coops would be warm enough for the animals' comfort once the snow started to fall.

And fall the snow has. This year, it seemed, has witnessed some of the most intense snow storms yet, and winter wasn't even half over yet. Luckily you've planned ahead, and had plenty of firewood to keep you going throughout the winter and then some. You even had some leftover that if anyone in the village was need of firewood, you would be more then willing to donate a few logs to keep their hearths going.

Today, with the rate the snow was falling, it was practically a blizzard outside. You did not anticipate anyone to pay any business or social calls, so you spent the day wrapped up in thick furs and keeping near the fire place, relishing in the warmth of the fire, stoking it every so often and placing more logs into the fire when needed. You sipped from a nice hot cup of tea and read an old book you recently purchased when you heard the door to your cottage barge wide open.

Your eyes widen a bit, ready to pull the poker out of the hearth in order to defend yourself when you heard the gruff, yet familiar voice, "Calm down, love, it's only me."

You sigh in relief and stand up, keeping a fur blanket wrapped around you as you go to greet your guest. Knowing exactly who it was, it seemed he also heard your heart rate rise in a panicked state from the assumption that this was possibly a home invasion. Lambert, who was covered head to toe in snow, closed the door and stomped the dusty snow into the welcome mat before he stepped further into the cottage. "Dammit, Lambert," you sigh, slightly annoyed "I wasn't expecting you to show up until the spring thaw. What are you even doing walking out in this storm?"

"I was on my way to Kaer Morhen," the witcher admits, "I uh, may have gotten a late start and I got caught up in this fucking storm." "But...this place is not even on the way to Kaer Morhen," you point out as Lambert took off his boots and set his gear down. "Needed to stock up on herbs first," he tells you, "yours is the only place I know has the supplies I need." "There aren't any other herbalists on your usual route that you needed to take such an extensive detour?" you raise an eyebrow. "Your inventory is better stocked," Lambert huffs.

He walks over to the hearth and places his hands over the fire to warm them up, "my usual if you please, (y/n), then I'll get out of your hair once this storm passes." "Well that's probably going to take some time for that to happen," you shake your head slightly, "come on, Lambert, be honest. What really brought you all the way out here?"

Lambert sighed a bit and turned his gaze over to you, "...just wanted to make sure you were well prepared for the winter," he mutters, "didn't want you turning into a fucking icicle with the intense weather we've had on the Continent this year."

"You are aware this is something I've been doing for years now?" you point out, small smile on your face as you start to figure out the witcher's true intentions, "long before the Path ever brought you to this part of the world. I'm fine, Lambert, you don't have to worry about me." "...I'll always worry about you, love," Lambert mutters silently to yourself while you decide to get some dried meat and barely in order to prepare a stew for the both of yours supper.

While you starting cooking, you started reminisce over the first time Lambert ever set foot in your cottage. You recalled the witcher had taken a contract that required a specific herb for a special oil he needed to brew in order to lure the monster that was terrorizing the village. Everywhere he looked, this special herb was no where to be found and no one in the village kept in stock. You, luckily, had some in your inventory; this particular herb had to be harvested at the precise time in order for it to be effective and it could only be stored for short amount of time before it started to wilt, even with the best preservative techniques. You remembered Lambert putting up a stink about the pricing, which you counter argue about the trouble you have to go through to make this herb life and how rare it was. But after some intense negotiations and some really intense haggling, Lambert had finally agreed to the set upon price, and by the time he slayed the monster, a snow storm had started to pass through the area.

It was at that time, you invited Lambert to stay in your home until the storm passed, seeing that people from the village wouldn't even provide shelter for the poor man even though he just did them a favor by ridding the village of the monster.

You recalled how the storm had lasted longer then you anticipated and that the fire wood was running low, which lead to you and Lambert really getting to know each other by staying warm under the furs and keeping close to exchange body heat. Since that time, Lambert had made frequent trips back to your place to restock on herbs and getting to know you better...which had slowly began to turn into something more, especially when he stopped by the next winter and reenacted you and him sharing the furs...only that time the two of you weren't any clothes.

*nudge, nudge* *wink wink*

In the present, while Lambert was warming himself by the fireside, now turning around to warm up his backside, he could the stew start to cook, and he could see the look on your face and the warm smile you had while you stirred the pot some more before letting the stew simmer.

"What's got you so happy, love?" he asks, frowning a bit. "Oh nothing really," you say, shaking your head a bit, "just thinking about the first time we met. How the circumstances were similar to what they are now, what their being a snow storm and you clearly needing a place to warm yourself since no one else in the nearby village would offer." "Fucking ingrates the lot of them," Lambert scoffs, "after what I did for them. Oh well, tis the life of a witcher...not that I ever had a say in the matter." It's worth noting Lambert's never really told you much about his past, either before or during his time spent in the School of the Wolf. He's made it clear on many occasions that it's not something he likes to talk about. You wouldn't press, not until he was ready. A man's past was his own business after all.

"Well, I suppose in a twisted way, if it weren't for those fucking ingrates, I wouldn't have gotten to know you better," you point out, "really it's a pity," you take a few steps forward and place a hand on Lambert's cheek, "they have no idea what they're even missing, getting to know someone as amazing as you." Lambert rolls his eyes at that compliment, clearly not used to receiving them that often. "Sometimes I think you're too kind for your own good, little dove." "It's got me this far," you say, "come on, stew's probably ready by now."

"I'm staying at this spot," Lambert insists, "I leave for even a second, my bollocks will start to freeze off." "Well, we certainly can't have that," you tease, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "maybe I'll just have to warm them up afterwards."

That seemed to give the witcher some motivation to leave the fireplace and join you at the dinner table for some sustenance.

And indeed, afterwards, you invite Lambert into your bed for a...rather intense warm up beneath the blankets, all the wind howled outside and the snow continued to fall.

"I've always loved winter," you say afterwards as rest your head on Lambert's chest, listening to his unnaturally slow heartbeat despite his workout session with you, "it's my favorite season." "Why?" Lambert frowns, giving you a confused look. "I just do," you shrug, "I love the snow, seeing my breath turn foggy, and just warming up by the fireside after being outside. It just feels...magical."

Lambert couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, "What, you think me silly for that?" you look up to him. "No...not at all," Lambert admits, "I've never like winter...I never liked being cold. I could never adjust to it, even after all those years spending my winters in Kaer Morhen. That place turns into one fucking ice box in the winter, don't understand what's the point of being there during that time." "I'm guessing you're in no hurry to return to the witcher's keep then," you say. "Hmmm," Lambert pretends like he has to think about it, "let's see, weather out this blizzard in a ruined, drafty castle with sweaty wolves whose snores can be heard throughout the mountain pass...or a nice warm cottage in the lowlands with the company of a kind, warm, pretty herbalist."

"I enjoy your company too, Lambert," you giggle, "you know you could...always spend the rest of winter here. I have more then enough fire wood to last until the spring thaw, and plenty of food too. And of course, I'll be sure to restock your herbs before you leave, free of charge." "I always appreciate that love," Lambert places a kiss on your head, "but despite the hardships of the keep, it's always nice to see my brothers again. It's always nice to exchange stories and get drunk on ale and just being together." "How sweet." "If you come across them, don't ever tell em I said any of those things," Lambert gives you a stern look, "don't want them thinking I'm a softy." "You're secret is safe with me," you assure.

You rest your head against the witcher once more, letting sleep take you for the evening, "Still," you hear Lambert as he strokes his hand down your back, "since you're offering, I wouldn't object to winter here for a change...especially if I get to end my days like this."

"I'd like that too, Lambert," you say sleepily with a smile on your face as you drift off which Lambert remains awake for a little while longer, admiring your peaceful state, and the peace he felt from just being here with you.

It's the most peaceful he's felt in years, he couldn't even remember if there was a time when he felt this way before. He wasn't sure how long this would even last.

But for now, he would enjoy it, enjoy this moment, relishing in the warmth of your arms, your body...and your heart.

Masterlist

#the witcher #witcher lambert #lambert #lambert x reader

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cuffmeinblack · 2 years ago

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Garreth x Reader x Seb triangle- Reader and Sebastian are the ones fighting for Garreth 😏

Love-drunk

Garreth Weasley x gn!reader

Tags: fluff | love rivalry | love potion | nonconsensual kissing

2.1k words

Summary: You have a crush on Garreth, but your pursuit is complicated by Sebastian-fucking-Sallow.

A/n: Not sure if you wanted angst, fluff or smut but here's some mostly stupid fluff and Sebastian being a dick.

You felt the spark between you and Garreth whenever you were together, which was increasingly often lately—what started off as running errands for his experiments became studying in the library and spending leisurely time together, the tension and lingering gazes becoming more and more frustrating as the days went by. You thought maybe Garreth would have asked you out by now, if it weren't for the complication of Sebastian-fucking-Sallow. Sebastian had been sniffing around Garreth since sixth year, to absolutely everyone's surprise, and the Slytherin was nothing if not an incessant flirt. The worst part was, Garreth didn't seem to mind Sebastian's progressively aggressive pursuit of his affections, though his bashful grins were laced with his signature awkwardness. Truthfully, Garreth didn't seem to know what to make of the situation, which escalated over the Christmas holidays as you were all stuck at Hogwarts together.

You awoke on the day before Christmas Eve to heavy snow, lazily making your way down to the Slytherin common room and out to the great hall for breakfast, wrapping yourself in your heavy travelling cloak to cross the bridge in the blizzard. The hall was almost empty, a smattering of students lining the house tables and only one lone Gryffindor, but it wasn't Garreth. You frowned, thinking perhaps he was running later than you, or decided not to brave the chilly winds, until you spotted the curly red mane sitting at your table. With Sebastian. Huffing, you marched over to the pair and threw your cloak onto the bench—swinging your leg over and settling next to Garreth, you flashed him a wide smile in greeting, which he returned, setting your heart racing. Sebastian had ceased his monologue on the other side of him and was staring you down with his intensely dark eyes.

"Good morning, Garreth. Sebastian."

"Morning, how are you? You have snow all over your hair," Garreth smiled, brushing the flakes from your head.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and continued eating his eggs as you gave Garreth your best smile and thanked him, touching his arm lightly, your hand lingering on his firm bicep.

"Garreth, I found a book in the restricted section you might like, if you want to have a look later," Sebastian said, dipping his head and giving him the look.

"We're actually going to play Wizard's chess later, aren't we, Garreth?" you replied.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure I can manage both, though," he said, looking nervously between you and Sebastian.

"Fine, we can go after dinner? The library will be completely empty, we can be sure of complete privacy," Sebastian said, his arm grazing Garreth who was blushing furiously.

You left breakfast a ball of nerves—you had plans with your fellow Slytherins for dinner, and you couldn't keep making excuses to sneak off with Garreth. Still, you hated the idea of Sebastian being anywhere alone with him, and your temper rose as you caught sight of his messy brown mane in the common room that morning.

"Back off, Sallow," you said, standing over him.

"Why should I?" he asked with a smirk, placing the book he'd been reading in his lap.

"Don't you have a thing for Gaunt?" you teased.

Sebastian frowned and pursed his lips. "Ominis? No, he's just a friend," he muttered.

"Or more likely he told you he wasn't interested and now you're sniffing around Garreth on some sort of rebound to make him jealous."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he retorted furiously.

"Whatever you say, Sebastian," you said, turning to leave.

"You're just afraid of some friendly competition," he shouted after you.

"If you want to make this a competition, fine. Prepare to lose."

Sebastian smirked and returned to his book with no further comment. The battle between the two Slytherins for Garreth's affections was on, and the poor Gryffindor had no idea what was about to hit him.

You spent the day with your housemates, milling around Hogsmeade in the snow until the winds picked up to unbearable levels and you trudged back to the castle with a raw face and numb hands. After a hurried shower, your skin tingling from the temperature difference, you dressed and made your way to dinner, casting a glance at the Gryffindor table where Sebastian sat with Garreth, looking unbearably smug. You caught Sebastian's eye and he dropped his smile and looked away, forking food into his mouth. His reaction made you suspicious—you'd expected a victorious grin or even a scowl, but the way he'd avoided your eyes made an uncomfortable sensation settle in your stomach as you sat at the Slytherin table with your friends.

You cast the pair glances during the meal, watching them chat and Sebastian attempting his shameless attempt at flattery until they rose from the table and left, walking out of the hall together, presumably to the library. You shook your head, trying to get the image of them together out of your mind, and ignore the anxiety in your gut, but your foot tapped nervously under the table and eventually Imelda pinched your arm in annoyance.

"What's wrong with you? Can you stop thinking about Weasley for one second?" she said.

"Sorry, I need to…I have to check something," you stammered, ignoring her frown and rushing from the table.

Your legs were leading you to the library, not entirely sure what were expecting, but as you turned the corner you were greeted by a sight which made your stomach lurch—Sebastian and Garreth were entangled in a fierce battle of tongues against the wall, Sebastian's hands wandering beneath Garreth's robes and both looking distinctly dishevelled.

"What in Merlin's name?" you shouted.

Sebastian pulled away with an annoyed look, panting heavily, when you noticed the glazed look on Garreth's face, his eyes slightly out of focus and a lazy smile across his lips. Your eyes widened in shocked realisation as you approached the pair under Sebastian's furious gaze. You knew Sebastian was competitive but this really was lower than you thought he'd stoop.

"Did you give him a love potion?" you asked accusingly.

"He just needed a little encouragement," Sebastian replied, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I'll report you for this, Sallow," you said, your hand hovering over your wand.

Sebastian looked at you uncomfortably as Garreth continued to run his hands over his torso, tugging at his shirt with his head buried against his neck. You walked forward and pulled on Garreth's robes, practically dragging the boy away from Sebastian who slumped against the wall with a look of guilty defeat.

"Hey, stop it, I was in the middle of something," Garreth whined, trying to tug his robes out of your grip.

"Garreth, for your own good, you need to come with me, else I'll have to stun you."

Garreth frowned with his love-drunk, dopey eyes still ogling Sebastian as he stumbled along beside you, eventually relenting with a whine and pleading look.

"But he's so lovely, do you think he'll want to be more than friends?"

You sighed, lacing your arm around his and guiding him towards the potions classroom. You imagined the potion would wear off eventually, luckily it didn't appear to be that potent, but Garreth would likely need a sleeping draught to stop him from getting into trouble in the meantime. You pushed the door open and pulled Garreth towards a stool, asking him to sit down whilst you rifled through the store room, eventually plucking a small bottle from the back of a shelf.

Garreth was sitting on the stool with a faraway look, kicking his feet and humming. You couldn't help but smile at him, his freckled face still blushing pink and his green eyes glittering with artificially-induced infatuation for your worst enemy.

"I'm going to take you somewhere where you can sleep now, then tomorrow you can see Sebastian bright and early, okay?"

Garreth grinned and nodded, jumping off the stool and taking your outstretched arm. You couldn't very well abandon him at Gryffindor tower and trust that he would go to bed without incident, so you decided to take him to the one place you knew you'd be able to watch over him as he slept. You stroked his arm over his robes as you walked to the seventh floor corridor, coming to a stop outside the blank wall as Garreth looked at you with a tilted head and questioning eyes. You closed your eyes and thought of what you needed, a place for Garreth to sleep, for him to stay safe and for you to keep an eye on him nearby—the ornate door appeared before you as soon as your eyelids opened and Garreth gasped in surprise.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," you said encouragingly, leading his arm through the door.

The room had provided just what you needed—a cosy bedroom, very similar to how you imagined the Gryffindor dormitories with deep red fabrics, luxurious tapestries and dark woods. It had conjured a comfy bed and a chaise longue with a stack of books nearby, apparently anticipating your lack of sleep.

"Where are we, what..."

"Garreth I know you have a lot of questions but I need you to take this, okay?" you said, producing the bottled potion from your robes.

Garreth picked it out of your palm, eyeing it suspiciously.

"It's just a sleeping draught, I know it'll be too hard to sleep from the excitement of seeing Sebastian tomorrow," you said with a warm smile.

Garreth returned the smile, making your heart flutter in your chest as he uncorked the bottle and swallowed the mixture in one.

"Come on, into bed with you," you said.

Garreth shed his shoes, robe and jacket and climbed into the bed under the thick duvet, sighing contentedly and was gone as soon as his head hit the pillow. You finally let out the deep breath you had been holding all the way here as you perched on the bed next to him, pulling the duvet to cover his shoulders and brushing his long copper hair out of his eyes. With a final glance at his peaceful features, you settled on the chaise longue and picked a book off the top of the teetering pile, and began to read by the dim light of the lamp above you.

You awoke with a jolt with the sound of groaning and rustling bedsheets, groggily sitting up as the book you'd been reading fell to the floor with a loud thump.

"Merlin, my head. Where are we? I don't…how did we get here?" Garreth's confused and panicked muttering came from the bed beside you.

You stood up shakily, clutching your back as you walked towards him—the seat definitely wasn't the most comfortable place to have slept, and you felt a pang of guilt at having dropped off to sleep so easily.

"Do you remember anything, Garreth?" you asked softly.

Garreth sat up in the bed, ceasing his surveying of the room as his eyes widened and his skin paled beneath his freckles as, doubtless recalling the previous day's events.

"Sebastian gave me something at dinner didn't he?"

"Unfortunately, yes," you said with a nod.

"I don't believe he would…thank you for taking care of me. You're a good friend," he mumbled, shuffling out of the duvet and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Of course, I'll always be your friend, Garreth," you replied, sitting next to him and flashing him a warm smile.

Garreth looked up at you, your eyes meeting as he searched yours in silence. You heart skipped a beat and a blush rise in your cheeks under his gaze, his emerald eyes so piercingly beautiful.

"But you want to be more?" he asked uncertainly.

Merlin, he was stupid sometimes, as if you hadn't made that abundantly clear.

"Well, yes, but I'm honestly fine with friends," you said truthfully.

Garreth seemed to consider this, but eventually, he swallowed thickly and muttered his reply.

"I'd like to explore more than friends if that's okay with you," he said, sliding his hand onto your knee.

You let out a small gasp at the unexpected contact, which was met with his lips meeting yours, your open mouth an invitation for his tongue to tease yours as your brain stuttered and tried to catch up. Eventually, your mouth seemed to take over, your head tilting slightly and deepening the kiss as you let out a small hum of approval. Your hands found his hair, your fingers running through the soft waves as Garreth stroked your thigh. You pulled apart, both smiling and your faces varying shades of red.

"I'd like that a lot," you smiled.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #anon ask #anon request

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felassan · 3 months ago

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Dragon Age: The Veilguard - site update - companion blurbs and abilities. [source] Some of this information is new, including each companion's Abilities list.

Text reads:

"LACE HARDING Inquisition This dwarven scout has a positive outlook and a ready bow – as well as unexpected magical powers. At her core, Harding is still a girl from Ferelden; she loves adventure, animals, and nature and is fiercely protective of her family and friends. Abilities: Seismic Shot; Heavy Draw; Shred; Adrenaline Rush; Soothing Potion Harding's skills with the bow are unmatched - her arrows can stagger enemies and shred armor. DAVRIN Grey Wardens Bold and charming, this Grey Warden has made a name for himself as a monster hunter. Though he was raised in a Dalish clan, he craved excitement and adventure. He’d rather make history than reflect on it. Now, he cares for Assan, a young griffon. Abilities: Battle Cry; Death from Above; Heroic Strike; Assan Strike; In War, Victory Fiercely loyal, Davrin brings his enemies down hard with a combination of mighty attacks, teaming with Assan to keep their companions out of danger. BELLARA LUTARE The Veil Jumpers Bellara is creative, romantic, and obsessed with uncovering the secrets of ancient Elvhenan. She has a strong sense of self – a clear idea of who she is and what she wants – and will push herself to her limits to find the answers she seeks. Abilities: Fade Bolts; Enfeebling Shot; Replenish; Time Slow; Galvanized Tear Bellara manipulates the Fade and uses electricity and control magic to support her Companions and diminish the powers of their foes. TAASH The Lords of Fortune A Qunari dragon hunter allied with the Lords of Fortune, Taash lives for adventure and doesn't mind taking risks. While her interests include sparkling treasures and hitting things with an axe, Taash is also deeply knowledgeable about many topics. Abilities: Fire Breath; Dragon's Roar; Dragonfire Strike; Spitfire; Fortune's Favor Blunt and straightforward, Taash is a mighty warrior, who wields dual-axes and breathes out flames, igniting enemies with draconic fury. LUCANIS DELLAMORTE The Antivan Crows Lucanis is an expert assassin for whom the Antivan Crows are a family business. He is poised & pragmatic, but he’d rather not be the center of attention. His focus is usually on his work. Lucanis specializes in executing powerful mages and has earned himself the title Demon of Vyrantium. Abilities: Eviscerate; Abominate; Soothing Potion; Debilitate; Adrenaline Rush Lucanis stylishly deals necrotic damage in battle with his dual-daggers, whilst supporting his companions with potions and buffs. EMMRICH VOLKARIN The Mourn Watch A necromancer of Nevarra's Mourn Watch, this well-meaning scholar comes complete with a skeletal assistant, Manfred. Emmrich is as serious about his duty to protect innocents from the occult as he is about his studies and his interest in the mysteries of the fade. Abilities: Final Rites; Replenish; Entangling Spirits; The Bell Tolls; Time Slow Emmrich summons forth spirits of the dead to both entangle and hinder his enemies and heal his companions. NEVE GALLUS The Shadow Dragons A cynic fighting for a better future, Neve is both a private detective and a member of Tevinter's rebellious Shadow Dragons. Born and raised in a working-class neighborhood of Minrathous, she does not believe in the superiority of mages. Abilities: Icebreaker; Blizzard; Glacial Pace; Time Slow; Replenish Neve uses her talents as an ice mage to freeze and slow enemies, stopping them in their tracks."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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barbieb0y · 3 months ago

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with a snap of the fingers.

day 6 already!! we're in the final stretch!!!!

for today, i went with a comfort unasked for yet welcomed ! and a wall of snow keeps us hidden kinda

this one is definitely more elaborate than my previous work ... bc this one's a fantasy au!! ive had this vivid image of paper cut and joe being a mage and a blacksmith respectively and them being kinda neighbors in a village. but it kinda extended to other characters too so you may see them here. also i used my actual name here bc paper cut doesnt sound like it'd fit in a fantasy setting 😭 and also his personality here is kinda inspired by a character named beryl from a game called sword of convallaria! here hes a really skilled mage whos kinda cocky but ultimately still a socially awkward dude who doesnt go out much. lol

if i have time, i'll expand on this au a little more! but for now, aside from what i said above, this au has sonetto as the "main character" or the hero who keeps coming back to the village from dungeon raiding (bc i cant see vertin doing it despite her technically being the protag in re99). kinda like dungeon meshi (<- read like 5 chapters of dunmeshi)

i love roguelikes so the idea of the hero reviving after dying in an always shuffling and changing dungeon appeals to me. so that happens to sonetto in this au

SORRY FOR THE WORD VOMIT i just enjoyed writing this a lot. anyways

Safar hates to admit it but he is very much snowed in.

Usually he wouldn’t mind the blizzard causing it - hell, sometimes he’d celebrate - but he needed to go out to get some potions from Sotheby across the village. It’s just misfortune after misfortune for him this winter season.

He can only mumble complaints under his breath as he instructs various (previously) inanimate objects to tidy up the place. It’s a rare occasion as he can be… quite the disorganized individual, despite having the convenience of magic literally at his fingertips. Though the process itself isn’t as magical, ironically enough.

Everything comes to a stop when he hears a banging on the door. His complaints double as he stomps over to the door. He quickly casts a translation spell, just to throw a warning to whatever monster threatens to break into his house.

“Get the hell out, you freaks! Do not piss me off!”

Instead of growling and howling, he is instead met with some coughs. Very humane coughs (or at least, humanoid). His temper subsides slightly at the possibility that annoying winter monsters finally got the hint after many, many years.

“I have no idea what you’re saying but it’s me, Joe! Y’know, the blacksmith next door?”

The big, tough guy next door? The sole source of all the sound pollution that made Safar soundproof his walls? Well, at least it’s a human. They’re supposed to be good at reasoning with other humans. At least, the mage hopes so.

Even then, it’s strange that the blacksmith is out there during a literal blizzard. Like it or not, the mage has to let the tough guy in, lest he dies out there. The snow-drenched blacksmith stumbles in, which helps with the mage’s attempt to open and close that front door as quickly as humanly possible.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The host spouts the moment he slams the front door. It’s a genuine question asked sort of out of concern but the mage has to admit he didn’t want any kind of visitor, monster or not. Thankfully, his little inanimate servants managed to clean up the place in time for the unexpected visitor.

“I was on my way home but then the snow got super heavy and well. Your place is nearer and my balls are freezing.”

Safar can’t argue with that. He can interrogate where he was from once they settle down. And so the mage surrenders to his fate with a sigh, making his way towards his shelves flowing with ingredients of many varieties. Making the blacksmith feel right at home will be a piece of cake.

“I do not want to hear about your freezing balls. Sit down over there, I’ll make some tea. Or are you more of a coffee guy?”

Out of habit, the mage starts throwing out everything he’s not looking for. Joe is oblivious to this despite all the noise he’s making and simply enjoys himself on the very comfortable couch, right beside a very cozy fire.

“I’m fine with anything.”

The blacksmith begins to lay down on the couch. Safar knows well that Joe has the luxury of being a guest and it’s common courtesy for him to treat the guest well but he can’t help but think for someone so big and tough-looking, he sure as hell seems content to not put those muscles to use.

Well, whatever! He’s a mage for Pete’s sake! He has the convenience of using supernatural powers to aid him in his daily activities! And moving things around with magic is child’s play for the best mage in this village!

He proves this point by snapping his fingers, which drops a whole tea set (with cookies on the side) on the coffee table in front of Joe. The guest jumps from the sudden movement, though the self-pouring kettle remains unfazed.

“And anything you will get.”

The host smugly proclaims as he struts towards his guest. With another snap of his fingers, lanterns illuminate the living room. He looks around the room, pondering if there’s anything else that needs some finger-snapping. Ultimately, his gaze lands on the fireplace. He sneaks a glance at Joe.

“Is the fire warm enough?”

Increasing the heat of the fireplace requires more effort than just finger-snapping but the extent of it just consists of the inconvenience of having to grab an extra ingredient from his stuffed shelves. Yet Joe only smiles at the host, as warm as the flames that lick the smooth stone.

“Yeah. The perfect temperature actually.”

Safar’s smug smile turns into a genuine one. He has to admit – the guy’s energy is contagious. Having his mood lifted up slightly prompts him to join his guest near the fireplace as he quite literally lifts himself up off the floor, hovering in midair in a cross-legged sitting position. Joe pretends to not be impressed but the mage can tell he’s stealing glances.

It’s easy for the mage to forget certain tricks up his robe’s sleeves are unthinkable for other people, especially for a regular human such as Joe. Some think the mage can be a little too boastful for his own good but Joe isn’t part of that crowd - he deserves to be boastful. He’s the most skilled mage in the village! That much can be seen with the huge certificate that’s pinned up right above the fireplace. The words “BEST MAGE IN CHARLESTON VILLAGE” in the mayor’s crude handwriting swell with pride.

“...Reminds me of my forge back home.”

The blacksmith comments on the warmth of the fireplace, but it also alludes to the fact that he has a certificate in his workshop too - except it says “BEST (AND ONLY) BLACKSMITH IN CHARLESTON VILLAGE”. He always chooses to ignore the words in the parentheses.

Joe lets his eyes wander around the small establishment. It’s a simple little house, the only doors there being the front door and the bathroom door. Everything else is open-ended and connected, with only some half-walls partitioning specific rooms. The place is both tidy and messy. He doesn’t even have to try to feel right at home. Maybe he already is.

…Or not, because Safar is basically a stranger to him.

“Oh yeah, where were you going before the storm hit anyway? I thought you didn't go out of your smithy?”

Right when he thought to start up a conversation, the mage had that handled. Even the blacksmith himself forgot he was out and about still when the storm hit. He racks his brain at the interrogation.

“Sonetto just finished another dungeon run and managed to bring back some good metals for me to mess with and uh… I got excited.”

Safar can never understand Sonetto’s insistence on making her way down that cursed dungeon. But he supposes that strong sense of justice is the reason why she’s The Hero. Bestowed with powers of reincarnation, she’s basically immortal. He can’t help but feel a bit bad for her though.

He never understood why so many yearn for eternal life. Initially he believed that those people merely have an innate desire to be remembered forever which then translates into desire for immortality. Yet he doubts Sonetto is one of these people, despite being The Hero. She’s… really just a good person at heart.

The mage tries to illustrate the image of both Sonetto and Joe in the same room. Hm. A little too full of sunshine for his liking. But no doubt it’d be a delightful room to be in all the same.

“Probably should’ve stayed put then, dude. There’s a reason why people say patience is a virtue.”

The mage comments as a cup of tea makes its way towards him. He downs all of it in one gulp.

“Don’t remind me. I’m impatient as hell.”

The host has to give it to him, he is self-aware at the very least. Safar laughs at his response, Joe pouting at the former’s reaction. The mage then offers a sincere smile. “I get it. Why do you think I use magic for everything?”

He has to admit it too. The mage can be a very prideful person in front of others but behind that closed door, he yearns for a lazy life just as any tired person does.

“Lucky. All I got are these awesome muscles.”

Joe flexes his left arm, bicep bulging boastfully. The mage finds himself entranced by the display. It’s a reminder of his preferences for people to stare at. His gaze is a little too shameless.

“Like what you see, don’tcha?”

Blood rushes to Safar’s face almost immediately at his comment. He would respond but he knows the words that’d leave his lips will stutter. So instead he turns towards the fireplace, attempting to be enchanted by the flames’ dance instead.

“...This is nice. We never really had the time to get to know each other.”

To his relief, Joe changes the topic just as quickly as he was to tease Safar. The latter says nothing for a while.

“Yeah.”

Joe was definitely an uninvited guest but Safar would be lying if he says that his presence is not comforting. And for the time being, the blizzard outside will keep them hidden from the outside world for a little while. More than enough time to forge a friendship.

And it’ll be easy as snapping your magical fingers.

#the internet angel writes ... ✎#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #re99 #re1999 #r99 #r1999 #joe reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 joe #reverse 1999 oc #r1999 oc #scrunkly week #SWWinterBlizzard #selfship: uppercut

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lady-paarthurnax · 3 months ago

Note

"Miss Paarthurnax, your wings seem to be dry. Would you care for a moisturizer? I am sure I can create one to your tastes and complexion."

"Zu'u los krosis... I apologize, but I do not think a moisturizing potion would be enough." She told the sword spirit as she spread her once glorious wings; the membrane used for flight had numerous holes and tears, mostly at the bottom edge of them. "The blizzards of this frigid peak, the thousands of years that have passed me by have worn my wings down. It is rahofan... A miracle that I can still fly with them like this..."

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ensnapemysenses · 2 years ago

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If Only for a Moment Longer

Pairing: Snape x Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

A/N: This idea came about from an ask I received from an anon with a list of holiday fic prompts! I combined two of them and came up with this! I also think it is very fitting with the prompts 'fireside' and 'snuggles' from week one of Snolidays 2022! Hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 888

Masterlist

Severus stands in the castle's entrance, shivering, his robes covered in the powder of freshly fallen snow and his sack of harvested herbs slung over his shoulder like Saint Nicholas. He shimmies off his snowshoes followed by his damp outer robes and gloves, scowling at the thought of a student seeing him in his current state but knowing he must remove the soiled clothing immediately or he will be facing a rather nasty bout of hypothermia.

As excellent an excuse that would be to miss teaching these dunderheads on their last class before winter break, he would rather eat his own crusty, decade-old shoes and do a funny dance in front of the whole school than allow another professor into his classroom to cover for him. He can’t stand the thought of someone going into his classroom, teaching the students wrong, and silently judging him for the things he keeps in there.

He drifts down to the dungeons, which are slightly warmer than the freezing temperatures outside the castle, and drops the herbs off in his potion storeroom to dry out for the night. These things are best stored completely dry in order for them to retain their freshness and quality longer.

Upon entering his chambers, Severus throws his damp clothing by the fireplace to dry, then he takes a scalding hot shower. The water effectively warms him up in no time but for safe measure he wraps himself tightly in his warmest robe and settles down on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate, propping his feet up by the fire. He’s soon finding himself lost in the catalog showcasing all the spring seeds that will be for sale at his favorite shop in Hogsmeade and making mental notes for what he will use his school allowance to buy for his classroom when the time comes.

His quiet time is cut short quickly by a rather loud knock on his door. He groans, not wanting to get up he yells across the room at the perpetrator.

“Whoever you are, go away! I have no business with anyone tonight.”

“You missed the feast tonight, Severus,” the voice says. “I brought you a plate. May I come in?”

He recognizes that voice and his ears perk up at the sound.

He calls out their name. “I am in no state for visitors tonight. I am recovering from a cold.”

A lie? Not really, he is recovering from the harsh icy blizzard he just went out in for hours to forage potion ingredients. It’s only a different meaning of the word, there’s no harm done in stretching the truth. Especially in circumstances that would lead to someone laying their eyes upon him in his current vulnerable state — only his bathrobe covering him.

“Severus, I saw you outside rummaging around in the snow for merlin knows what! I know you aren’t sick yet, but you will be if you don’t eat a warm meal and get your strength up!”

Snape sighs. If that idiotic professor wants to lay their eyes upon the scene of him relaxing in front of the fireplace half naked then so be it. He’s sure it will cause them to scurry away from embarrassment and get them out of his hair quicker.

“Fine, come in.”

Waving his wand, Severus unlocks the door and it slowly creaks open. The professor slips in and almost drops the plate of steaming food on the floor.

“Never seen a grown man lounging in his own chambers before? Pick your jaw up off the floor and have a seat.” Severus gestures toward the empty space on the couch next to him.

“I - I think I should go,” they blush.

“How absurd! After all, you said it yourself, I’m about to freeze to death. Be a dear and get over here. I could use a good snuggle.”

The thing that happens next surprises Severus. He fully expected to be left alone after a few muttered apologies and embarrassed glances, but before he knows it, he is not alone on the couch anymore and the space between the two of them is no more than mere centimeters.

The plate of food remains forgotten on the entryway table as their bodies move together subconsciously to melt into one seamlessly. Severus feels every cell in his body lighting up and sending tingles down his spine, warming him in a way that the fireplace cannot. It seeps through to his very soul, bringing a new feeling of contentment and belonging to his heart. How long has it been since he’s been in such close proximity to another human? He isn’t sure.

He sighs and snuggles down deeper, closing his eyes. His hand decides to take a bold step before his mind can stop him and it delicately traces circles on their thigh as they both sit in silence.

He could get used to this – comfortable silence spent in the presence of another with the warmth of their body next to his.

The only thing that warns him of the time passing is the crackling of the fireplace and their deep slowing breaths as they both become heavy with sleep.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbles, his eyes slowly opening.

“I could stay,” they hesitantly suggest.

“Please,” Severus whispers. “If only for a moment longer.”

#snolidays2022 #snapecelebration2022 #snapecelebration #severus snape x reader #snape #severus snape #severus snape fic #snape x reader #snape fluff #severus snape fluff #ensnapemysenses

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