#dobby imagines

[milkybonya]

crush ☆ doyoung

order 069, anon: large taro milk tea with strawberry popping boba for treasure Doyoung

! : suggestive (kissing), explicit language (swear words)

# : bad boy!doyoung (but he's really just tsundere) x gn reader, ft. best friend!Jaehyuk

[💌: since hello era... doyoung and junghwan be hitting differently like THESE BOYS ARE ALL GROWN MY BBYS :( also anon i hope u like this one i'm sorry its so late T_T and on Haruto day?? not me posting a Dobby fic on Haruto day hehe HAPPY RUTO DAY]

there's no bad boy that makes you as weak in the knees as Doyoung. you have the fattest crush on him but no one will ever know. not even him. well, no one except for your best friend, Jaehyuk.

you keep your eyes straight ahead as Doyoung loudly enters the classroom, slamming the door accidentally (?) behind him and loudly pulling out his chair in the back to sit down.

you watch Jaehyuk wriggle his eyebrows as you from two rows ahead. then, you steal a glance back at Doyoung. he's leaning back in his head, facing the ceiling, revealing his attractive neck--

okay, seriously. you've gotta stop. how can a neck be attractive? well, his can.

you gulp as you face the front, trying to focus on the lesson. but... the teacher doesn't show up. so, as always, the kids start causing a ruckus. Doyoung keeps his head down in the back and you sigh as you sift through your homework, trying to find something non-violent to do.

just as Jaehyuk approaches you to have a conversation, he gets pushed aside by one of your class's rude idiots. he falls to the ground.

"y/n, is that the homework? can i borrow it?" they ask, leaning way too close.

"fuck off," you mutter, annoyed.

"huh? did you say something?" they ask, leaning even closer.

you sigh, trying to decide if you should fight back or just give them your homework--when you hear the legs of a chair scraping against the floor from behind you.

"just piss off! leave them alone," Doyoung yells at the rude idiot. "if you care about homework that bad, why don't you actually do it, hm?"

"yeah, he's right," Jaehyuk pipes up, finally getting up from the floor.

"and what if i don't leave them alone?" they challenge Doyoung, who makes some kind of quiet snarling sound before he bounds over to you.

"fuck. off," he says, shoving the person with each word.

they fall backwards onto a desk and Jaehyuk cheers.

your heart is racing, both because of the adrenaline the situation is making you feel, and because Doyoung is so... damn attractive while he's shutting these idiots down. his jaw is clenched and the outline of it is sharp. his lips glisten under the ceiling lights from when he licked them moments ago, trying to hold back his anger.

Doyoung turns to you, his ears red and his hands in his pockets. his dress shirt uniform is unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt underneath.

he doesn't say anything, just scans your face with slightly furrowed brows before walking to his spot in the back. once he's gone, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. then, you race to Jaehyuk, making sure he's okay.

"i'm fine! are you, though? your knight in shining armour totally just saved you--" Jaehyuk starts, wiggling his eyebrows.

"shut up!" you whine, slapping his arm.

you can't help but smile, though. as you look back to glance at Doyoung, you watch his head immediately jerk away from you.. as if his eyes had been on you before you looked at him.

you shrug it off as the teacher finally walks in.

-

Doyoung watches you for the entire lesson. he's never paid much attention to you until today, when those idiots were harassing you. usually, he doesn't get involved in class drama. but for some reason, he got so angry this time. he wonders why. he needs to know why.

the whole day you feel someone's eyes on you. every time you turn around, you see nothing. there's always so many students everywhere, so you don't pay it much mind. that is, until you notice something.

Doyoung is always there, in your line of vision, when you turn around to see if someone is watching you... but it's probably just a coincidence. it isn't until he joins you and Jaehyuk at the cafeteria to eat that you think maybe it wasn't a coincidence.

you're both stuffing your faces with food when he smoothly slides his tray in next to yours, sitting down and poking at his food.

"can we help you?" Jaehyuk asks, seeing how you're too stunned to speak.

"no. keep eating," Doyoung says somewhat coldly.

he watches you from the corners of his eyes.

"well, anyways, i think it's so dumb that we all have to do an outdoor activity this weekend and write a story about it. that's what little kids get assigned to do!" Jaehyuk complains, ignoring Doyoung.

"whyyy? i think it sounds so fun and cute! we could go on a picnic and both write about it--"

"i'm coming, too," Doyoung blurts out. he's shocked by his own words.

"why would you come?" Jaehyuk questions, maintaining (or trying to) a friendly tone.

"because... i don't know what else to do for the project either," Doyoung grumbles.

you stare at his lips, stained with the strawbery milk he just took a sip of.

"stop drooling, y/n," Jaehyuk says.

"shut up!" you screech, slapping your friend.

Doyoung chuckles and catches himself in the act. why was he so amused by you? he's never cared about a single living soul at this school before.

-

all three of you show up to the park with hands full of goodies... except, Doyoung's 'goodies' are just his skateboard... that's it.

Jaehyuk shakes his head, sighing as he lays down the blanket and one side of it folds in because of the wind. you're too busy staring at Doyoung as he sets his skateboard down to notice your own friend struggling.

"hello? a little help here?" Jaehyuk whines, but you still can't hear him.

the wind blowing through Doyoung's hair and rustling his clothes makes him look incredibly attractive. your knees feel weak and you decide to help Jaehyuk to distract yourself.

before you know it, you're being stopped by Doyoung himself.

"no, let me," he says in a deep voice, taking over and helping Jaehyuk with the blanket.

eventually, everything is set up and the three of you are sat surrounded by snacks and your notebooks.

"well.. we can't just write that all we did was sit here and eat. what should we do?" Jaehyuk points out.

"how about a game?" you ask excitedly.

you peek at Doyoung to see his reaction, but he's staring off into space. you pout and Jaehyuk notices.

"hey, Doyoung! what do you think?" Jaehyuk asks.

"yeah, sure. if y/n wants to, let's do it."

you feel butterflies within you as you grin as Doyoung.

"how about truth or dare?! Jaehyuk first! truth or dare?" you say.

"truth!"

"boring," you and Doyoung say at the same time. you both look at each other and you watch the boy's lips curve slightly upwards.

"i pick truth. now ask me something."

"have you ever liked y/n?" Doyoung asks, lazily.

your heart races at the question, even though you already know the answer.

"i did before, actually. i confessed but.. it didn't work out.

"how long ago was that?" Doyoung asks, brows furrowed.

"Doyoung, your turn! it's one question only," you say.

he presses his lips together before choosing 'dare'.

"i dare you to eat all those strawberries in one minute," Jaehyuk says.

you slap his arm, telling him that's too much, but Doyoung goes for it. you watch as his cheeks fill with the red berries, his face puffy as he chews. he starts laughing when you both laugh at how funny he looks, and he isn't able to eat them all because he laughs so hard he has to spit everything out!

"y/n, your turn," Doyoung says softly.

"mmm.. okay what will my truth be and what will my dare be?" you ask.

"dare is you kiss Doyoung and truth is do you like Doyoung," Jaehyuk asks.

your jaw drops and Doyoung smirks, amused.

"you--"

"pick!" Jaehyuk urges.

you sigh and choose dare, thinking that'll be the safer option.

Doyoung's face is slightly red as you turn to him.

"kiss! kiss! kiss!" Jaehyuk chants like a kid.

"shut up!" you say before turning to Doyoung, gently cupping and squeezing his cheeks so his lips are puffy, and pressing your own lips to his.

the kiss is soft, his lips are plump and his mouth tastes like strawberries. as if instictually, Doyoung's arm wraps around your waist, but Jaehyuk's giggles make you pull away.

"well, won't i have quite the situation to write about!"

"shut up, Jae," you say, nervously.

you still feel butterflies and you can feel Doyoung looking at you. every time you look at him, he looks away.

a few moments later, Jaehyuk gets up in search of a washroom. you and Doyoung are left on your own.

"i'm sorry if you didn't want to do that kiss--" you start.

"no. i wanted to," Doyoung replies sweetly.

"oh?"

"did you want to?"

"yes," you reply.

"do you want to do it again?" he asks while leaning back his weight rested on his arms.

"y-yeah."

and that's how Doyoung kisses you so hard that you fall onto the picnic blanket, Doyoung's arm also catching you as you fall. you place a hand to his chest to keep yourself grounded as butterflies rage inside you, but feeling his heartbeat makes you melt even more.

"hey, i leave for one second and come back to this?!" Jaehyuk says in disgust.

quickly, the two of you pull away.

Doyoung's face is red and he clears his throat.

"well... to avoid this from getting awkward, i say we end the picnic here," Jaehyuk announces.

after cleaning up everything, Doyoung pulls you aside to ask if you want to hang out with just him some time.

"i like you, y/n. something about you just keeps drawing me to you," he says, caressing your cheek.

"i-i-yes.. let's meet! this weekend! wait, it is the weekend... maybe some time this week after school?"

Doyoung laughs, a rare sight. "sure. let's meet after school."

you and Jaehyuk walk home together and the whole time he's teasing you, but you couldn't be happier.

[octavianacidicbreastmilk]

babbo is such an underrated daddy kink word. babbo, per piacere, chiavatemi

[mchsm07]

I love seeing Doyoung enthusiasts on this app😩 makes me so happy bcs they’re so rare👀 could I request some dom doyoung smut like maybe he gets turned on seeing you in his clothes like his shirt or hoodie or smth and fucks you in it😩

Soaking wet

Pairing: Doyoung × fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1 k

Warnings: cursing words, fingering, oral (f.receiving), unprotected sex,

Summary: After a rough day of course, your umbrella broke on the way home in the biggest storm. You went to your closest friend until the storm passed. You and Doyoung have been close friends for a long time. Sometimes too close. You always liked him, but nothing more than an innocent kiss happened between two of you, until now.

"Whoa. The wet hair is sexy but this is already scary"

"Haha. will you let me in or continue to wonder at me?"

After he letting you in with a sneaky smile under his nose he gave you a towel, a hair dryer and said 'feel free to take some clothes out of my closet' while he wiped up the puddle of water what you left behind. Your hand automatically reached for his favorite shirt which you put on, satisfied that it would be enough, since it reached almost to your knees.

"Would you like some hot ... tea?" Doyoung's jawline almost dropped to the floor when he saw you in his shirt. He thinks your little perfect shaped body in that oversized shirt is the most beautiful view. "Yea, i would appreciate it." Your face went up in flames as you felt his gaze scans you from head to toe.

He could hardly tear himself away from the sight, he couldn't deny seeing you in his clothes turned him on. He made your tea silently, during which he played countless options in his head in which position he would fuck you with his shirt on. As you drank the warm tea, while his lustfully eyes on you almost scorched your skin, you only more flooded with heat. "You are hot in my shirt no doubt but do you know how would you be even hotter? " You almost chocked on your tea. You don't often hear dirty minded pickup line from him. "Hm?"

"With me between your thighs" Saying the last word without even waiting for your reaction he pressed his lips against yours starting right into a wet make out session. His hands was all over your body, traveled all the way from your waist to your ass. Kneading your booty and held you close so you felt his bulge in his pants. Doyoung despite being known as a paper doll, will easily lift you up and placed you on the kitchen counter. Without his tongue stopping for a moment his hand slid straight between your uncovered folds. "Already wet and i havent even touched you"

He lightly rubs against your pussy lips, spreading your slick before inserting his middle finger as deep as he could. A soft moan left your mouth however he took it out with that movement and then licked your wetness off his finger. "Hm tastes too good, But I’m not going to touch you until you beg it” His voice reeked with authority.

"Please.?" You muttered with some uncertainty in your voice. His lips turned into a sneaky smirk to your word while he unbuttoned the upper 3 buttons of the shirt. "Not enough princess. You know better than that" He took your nipple between his two fingers. "Please, Doyoung! Touch me, please." Whimpered out finally while he was busily playing with your breasts. With a look of satisfaction on his face he leaned down. Then pulled up the shirt he licked between to your folds without any preparation. Your body shuddered at the sudden sensation. His lips latching onto your clit, sucking and licking your sensitive area continously. Your moan grew louder as the movements of his tongue became more decisive. "You taste like the heaven" He murmurred on your pussy. His thick finger prods at your slit, gathering your wetness and the saliva in order to slip it in easily and curls up into you, making you want more. You buried your fingers in his hair start to loosen up around him, but your pussy keeps clenching around his fingers in order to keep them there. His tongue swirls around your clit while his middle finger fucks your pussy. You whimper, moan, and your toes curl. You wanted him so bad. "Doyoung, pleaseee" You whined impatiently. He tore his tongue away from your clit and straightened up to you as he pumped his fingers non-stop.

"Please what?"

"I want.."

"What you want princess?" In the absence of an answer, he also viciously deprived you of his fingers, which made you whimp reluctantly "You want my dick, huh? "

"Yesss. Want your dick please. I can't wait more" Hearing your words he pulled his mouth into a satisfied grin, as if he had been waiting for just that.

"So needy" he pushed his pants down enough to get his erection out of his boxers. Holding your hand with your palm placed on his hard cock and stroke on it "This pretty pussy needs my dick?"

" Fuck, yes. I want your dick inside me so bad" You didn't have to say more. He adjusted his hardness to your soft entrance than slowly pushed himself into you.

“Fuck!” You both groaned at the same time. He started moving gradually. Surrendering to the pleasure you closed your eyes and leaned back on your elbows.

“God you so thight” He muttered staring down at the way his cock disappeared in your folds only to come back out and push more slick. He grasped your one leg and placed on his shoulder then pushing the shirt up with his other hand, he gripped your waist. Dictating a steady pace he pushed both of you to the edge of orgasm.

" Cum for me my princess. Cum on my dick" He pulled out before thrusting deeper inside of you. Your cunt tightening around him as he repeated a few more times and reached your sweet spot. "Don't stop it please, im so close" You whined with heavy breathing as you felt your body falling to pieces from the pleasure within seconds.

“ Ah god ” You manage to breathe out as soon as the orgasm reached you. "Shit" He pace starts to get sloppy as he’s close to finishing too thanks to your pulsing pussy. He filled you up completely within a few seconds with a deep groan.

"I think i found my new fetish. You in my clothes."

_____________________________________________

I liked this idea 🔥 Also this was my first one shot after a long time. Thank you for you patient. Hope you like it ♡

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 16: Fingertips

Words: 645 | Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

You’ve seen muggles addicted to things like money, cars, even alcohol, After all, everyone in the world has something they are addicted to, but you always found yourself back in the same place when it came to your own, plastered against the cool hallway wall in The Malfoy Manor with a bated breath.

Draco Malfoy is about six feet of the male version of sex on legs. His signature platinum blonde hair and piercing silver eyes had caught the eyes of many girls at school. It really drove everyone mad when he’d started growing scruff around his jawline, but none could handle the roughness around the edges like you could. Surprisingly, even being from different houses, Draco’s invited you here many times over breaks and his father never complained. Usually you’d just study together or complain about things neither of you have control over, but couldn’t discuss within the walls of the school. However, it never mattered which came first because it always ended the same.

Today, the mansion has been completely empty aside from you and Draco. The family elf, Dobby had been dismissed thanks to Harry himself just months ago and Lucius’ frequent business for the Ministry had kept him too occupied to bother finding a replacement. Draco’s mother, Narcissa has been keeping herself busy too lately, running alongside her sister, Bellatrix, doing who knows what. And in that same manner, you’ve been running around doing who knows what with Draco all week long.

It always started in the dining room. The long ebony table took up most of the room, but the family had hardly sat here for a proper meal. When you were alone in the comfort of your parent’s home, you’d think of Draco eating here alone, only served by an elf that would quickly be dismissed, and now, he doesn’t even get that.

The curtains don’t help much either. Heavy black, pure velvet clinging over the floor to ceiling windows and it sickened you. You could hardly see the sun through them, not a single plant would ever survive here, but they were a perfect accent in comparison to the emerald green chairs. At least his father thought so.

You’d sat closer to Draco today, side by side actually. You’d decided to open the curtains to let in some of the natural light. Draco protested, even going as far as rushing over to take your hands off. His father would be upset, of course, but you could handle it. Lucius didn’t scare you.

And with the sun peering through just right and Draco’s hand on yours, rays catch in the silvers of his irises. He must have noticed the same spark in your own eyes, a curiosity clouding your young lustful minds.

Draco’s lips were on yours faster than you could breathe and within that time, he had you right where he wanted you. So, you stand, half naked with goosebumps prickling across the surface of you skin from being smashed against the frigidness of the wall just outside his bedroom. You two couldn’t even make it that far, but that’s nothing new.

Draco’s lips always follow wherever his fingertips travel. From your curls to the tip of your bulbed nose, to your lips and the curve of your jawline. He took extra care to let his fingers curl around the base of your neck when he kissed there, causing you to moan up towards the ceiling in pleasure while he kissed deep into your skin, licking and biting too, before leaving the area warm and throbbing in his absence. The next thing you know, you’ve been kissed all over, inches of your body trembling against his touch and his absence. He always takes you into his room when you’re like this, drunk off the touch of his fingertips and kisses, and yearning to have your addiction completely satisfied.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[obaewankenope]

The day Dobby died is the day House Elves everywhere felt a shift in their being. Something fundamental was returned to them that they had never even realised they'd lost.

Almost overnight, dozens of witches and wizards found themselves on the receiving end of punishments they'd handed out to their elves for whatever reasons they'd had at the time. Thousands died screaming and begging and confused.

Children were spared only when the House Elves knew they would be different to their parents. Not all children met that single criteria.

Two days after the death of Dobby The Free Elf, House Elves reestablished their ownership of forests and woods, glens, brooks, rivers and streams. House Elves remembered they had never been meant for houses.

The Brownies returned to England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland.

Brownies returned and the wizarding world trembled.

[mahoushojoumonster]

“Oh… you’re here…”

[wafflinglumos]

Hermione Granger, Regulus Black, and house elf injustice.

Hermione Granger and Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, or, S.P.E.W, and the bad execution of it.

Hermione saw house elves as equal, she saw the lack of care in their jobs, the lack of holidays and pay, the lack of care or the house elves, and tried to free them from that, in a rather emotionally charged way and maybe with not the best execution, however, she cared and was a fourteen-fifteen year old girl who saw injustice, who faced the same injustice from the same Wizarding world, and wanted to fix it in the only way that she could that worked.

She cared for their justice, she worked tirelessly to achieve it and for the most part she had eventually achieved. While she may favour some house elves over others do to personal relationships with them we can actively see Hermione’s care for house elf rights as a whole. Made badges, petitions, etc etc. While you could argue it was done poorly, she again was a teenage girl who saw an injustice and wanted to fix it, which with by the time she was Minister, she had.

However, again, she was a terribly flawed activist, lovely idea, very, very poor execution. Her heart was in the right place, sure, and she was much more new to this than Ron, so yes her immediate attempts at helping them were in the right, but the execution was rather terrible. We do get to see her eventually go at in a better way. Still good idea, bad execution.

Regulus Black and superiority.

Regulus didn’t care for house elves as a whole, or at the very least, we have no evidence to support that, we have in fact, the exact opposite. Regulus supported Voldemort on a much deeper level compared to his parents, his parents got cold feet, and Regulus continued to support him, had a shrine of him, worshipped him if anything. He thoroughly believed in Voldemort’s beliefs, as did his parents. Regulus Arcturus Black was a Death Eater.

He was also however a Black, first and foremost, which is what I think is most likely what drove to his betrayal. Voldemort had wounded Kreacher and left him for dead, Kreacher would technically be “property” of the house of Black, so Voldemort hurting something so brutally that Regulus deemed as his probably was the driving force that drove to his betrayal. Regulus still had those pureblood beliefs, realistically speaking, so it wasn’t because he suddenly started thinking muggleborns were equal or that muggles should even exist.

He still loved his mother if that’s anything to go by, as Regulus was ordered not to tell as to not harm his family, it’s not specified if Orion was included as he died the same year as Regulus but it’s not stated if it was before or after, and Sirius had been disowned and was an order member so it also did not include him. This also furthers pushes Regulus’ still belief in Voldemort’s belief but no longer his cause.

Muggleborn vs Pureblood.

Hermione’s care for house elves as a whole versus Regulus’ care for only Kreacher, can be pinned down to various things in their characters, but I’m going to point out the major one. Hermione is a muggleborn, and Regulus was a wealthy pureblood. Hermione knew of the scrutiny in the wizarding world, but Regulus had participated in it.

Regulus wouldn’t have loved SPEW, maybe wouldn’t have hated it but surely wouldn’t have loved it, definitely wouldn’t have cared for Hermione.

Hermione cared about house elves and justice, and Regulus cared for his family. That is what makes their relationship with house elves different.

[holesthemovie]

still praying it gets cancelled, but i made a bingo card for the harry potter hbo max series. i could honestly make more, i see the vision of this horrible gruesome thing so clearly in my mind's eye

[mafaldaknows]

Instagram: acknowledge.ai

✨⚡️🪄🦉✨ 🩷🩵💚🧡💛

[officialdreadwolf]

Absolutely screaming like forget about her for a second this is bad enough all on it’s own 😭😭😭

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

tag list : @kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @beenovel

[sanarkeo]

warning: fluffy insane delusion posting like i don't think this qualifies as hcs if i'm just typing whatever i'm needy can you tell

imagine dating momo... waking up and shuffling over to the kitchen just to see her in a baggy shirt making your favorite breakfast. wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your cheek on your shoulder but she's whining for you to help. she doesn't actually mind if you're full on participating in this or pretending to chop some garnish - only wants to downplay how much she enjoys making you happy first thing in the morning.

while you're eating together, boo and dobby run over to your lap, with boo barking for some bit of meat and dobby snuggling into you. and you love how momo looks at you three with such contentment, because this is her family, and you don't know how she's also wondering how wonderful of a mom you could be, but it's too early for that.

there's a polarity to momo you've come to admire. how she paints joy into the monotony of life with her viridity, how her resolve alone can easily hold the attention of a room. when she's off of work and you're complimenting her on that latest dance video she's worked her ass off to choreograph for, she's hiding her blushing cheeks as you pull her tighter in an embrace. then her deep brown eyes gaze into yours and you get all flustered because she never really says she loves you, prefers showing it through every action, every expression, every touch.

as much as she adores trying out new restaurants and heading out shopping with you, a night in watching a good movie with her little household is more than enough. momo pulls out her pink camera, edges of the cute little stickers beginning to peel off, and snaps pictures and takes the shortest videos of you from time to time. you ask if she's just draining the battery, she shakes her head and scrolls through the album with a dumb smile plastered on her face instead of paying mind to the film.

you say: "i think you're in love with me."

and she rolls her eyes to annoy you and because that's the understatement of the century.

momo pulls you into a kiss and her lips are as sweet, as soft as ever. the pads of her fingers are warm against your neck and jaw. she pouts and you rush to pepper the lightest pecks around her face (arguably her favorite kind of kiss). with an arm around your shoulder now, momo presses her mouth to your temple and breathes you in. and you smell like home.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

No but now you said it picture Dobby walking into Lestrange Estate, or worse, Grimmauld Place while the Order the Phoenix is there, in a three piece Italian suit and talking like a gangster right out of Peaky Blinders and only ever referring to criminal!Weasley!reader as “Mr. Weasley” or “Boss” because Weasley!Reader hired him after he was freed

I like the thought of the suit Dobby is wearing being a gift from Criminal!Weasley!Reader for a job well done after Dobby’s first job working for him. And Dobby absolutely treasures it so much. He has others that he wears when he’s working but he only wears that particular one when he’s meeting with the Reader in person. And Dobby would be so unbelievably loyal to the Reader too. He’s a ride or die and he’ll happily die for his boss in any given situation. I can also imagine Dobby being the Reader’s first real ‘employee’, eventually becoming his right hand man.

Dobby wasn’t necessarily the most trusting of Lestrange!Daughter when he first met her, especially not when it concerned the Reader but eventually he came to accept that she was just as ride or die for the Reader as he was, if not even more so. He was also weary of Percy becoming involved but he trusted the Reader and if the Reader trusted his older brother than Dobby would accept it but he would continue to keep a watchful eye on both Percy and Lestrange!Daughter no matter what. He wouldn’t let anyone double cross his boss after all.

[boxjellyjelly]

Do you happen to have any headcannons regarding O'Connor and his friends? They live rent free in my head right now

Gotta admit, i do really hope they release maybe like a dlc or a short part two game that just focuses on the crew and their lives, because O'Connor and Gibbo, despite having only a few lines actually seem like they have lots of cool lore! Especially Gibbo (him talking about beasts, flashing lights etc)

Anyways! Heres a few headcanons of Gibbo, O'Connor, Trots, Finlay and Caz! **SPOILERS!!**

O'Connor

- i think lots of people think Mary is O'Connors wife, but I actually think hes talking about his daughter! Someone on the SWTD reddit said the ones who turn into The Shape are sort of traumatized or broken in some way, and the shape seems to lure/sedate its victims by making it think someone they care about is talking to them, so my mind immediately goes to O'Connor had a wife who either died or left and Mary is all he has. Poor guy :(

- I feel like he would be the type to go up to Trots when they first meet and ask if he can "see how blind" Trots is by trying on his glasses lol (he means well though!!)

- Poor man has night terrors like nobodies business. I like to think hes had night terrors the week leading up to what happens in the game about The Shape, but in very vague ways. Has probably told Trots or Gibbo about them as a joke.

Gibbo

- Again, a lot of people on reddit speculate that people who are traumatized or broken, I think his father left him or maybe just isnt a very great guy, since he tells Caz to tell his mom he'll be home soon, and since his ramblings sometimes sound like something an angry/neglectful father would say to a kid. I think Gibbo def gives off mamas boy vibes

- BIG. OLE. SOFTIE!!!! Definitely is the one who hung up all the christmas decor, and helped Dobbie with decorating their shared cabin.

- Definitely has seen some weird shit that Rennick has told him to stuff down, the "flashing lights" in the ocean, creatures that come up that he chalks up to being weird sea creatures so he can sleep peacefully at night

- I feel like in a weird way, he would survive the explosion and make his way to the main land, maybe to see his mom again or to try an find help

Trots

- I personally fucking adore Trots, he feels like the dad friend of the crew, the type that goes up to the crew when Rennick is up their asses and tells them to stand up for what they think is right.

- Always making passive aggressive comments around Rennick, Caz and Roy are always having to break the two up when they get into heavily heated arguements

- In his infected form, i think it shows a lot about the stresses he has as a union person and as a person in general. He feels like hes always having to clean up peoples messes, make sure things are working the way he should be, I feel like he puts on a composed face infront of everybody but is heavily stressed by his duties to keep everyone from getting killed

- I think he likes melancholy music :] soft and sad tunes that you can take a nap to while it rains outside

Finlay

- Can throw back shots like nobodies business, Caz and Muir are constantly doing drinking games with her and she always wins (though the hangover afterwards for her is more of a lose than anything)

- Constantly messing with Addair by getting into political battles and not giving him any satisfaction in seeing her get angry or anything, will sometimes just throw in random hyper-exaggerated takes to see him get mad

- As we seen from the paper, an absolute fucking wizard at darts, like, to the point where if shes drunk as all hell shes still able to hit multiple middles in a row

- Has nightmares too, but about her son. I cant imagine how hard it was for her to make it past the Shape hearing her son singing and calling out to her :((

- I feel like shes also pretty close with Roy, goes out for smoke breaks with him and stuff like that

Caz

- Double jointed. Maybe im just projecting onto him but the way his legs hurt from like THE SMALLEST OF FALLS is some double jointed problems shit. That being said, he totally does that bending-finger-back party trick for the crew, Trots tries to warn him against doing it but the look of disgust and suprise on the crews face will always make him do it again lol

- Was accidentally the first person to find out about Muir and Innes's relationship. He caught them kissing in the mud room, ever since then hes tried to be like,,,, overly accepting to the point where every time Innes and Muir are walking together he gives them a thumbs up like a dork

- Keeps his hair long despite Rennick and Addairs comments because Suize likes it that way (you cannot tell me Caz doesnt like getting his hair pulled lmao he is WHIPPED for that lady)

- I like to think his afterlife is him haunting his house, i know that may sound shitty but i want that man to be able to watch his weans grow up :(((

[sideprince]

Hello hello, love your blog and all the meta! Do you have any thoughts or saved meta on Snape’s accent? I don’t remember us seeing any indications in book-canon about him having an accent that stands out in any way, but I’d imagine that a poor boy growing up in the midlands (or in the north, as we thought before Spinner’s End was revealed to be in Cokeworth), to have a strong regional accent. Since this is an obvious class marker would he have tried to tone it down or hide it as he got older in Hogwarts? Thoughts?

Hello! Thank you, I'm always surprised anyone reads my posts so that's such a nice thing to hear! I've actually been thinking about Snape's accent lately so I love this ask and also get out of my head.

The books seem to show Snape speaking the Queen's English (ie. the dialect spoken primarily in the South of England and considered by some to be "proper" English, those people being dismissive of regional dialects in ways I personally don't agree with). This can be deduced more from seeing how the dialogue of characters like Dobby and Hagrid are written than anything else. Hagrid is written as speaking with a thick West Country accent, with a lot of "yeh" instead of "you" and "ter" instead of "to" etc. You also see similar clearly denoted regional dialects with characters like Mundungus Fletcher (whose accent is Cockney):

“Blimey,” said Mundungus weakly ___ “Keep your ’airnet on!” said Mundungus

-Order of the Phoenix, Ch. 2

“Well, you’re a bunch of bleedin’ ‘eroes, then, aren’t you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself -”

-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 11

Because we see these characters with their pronunciations clearly written into their dialogue, we're meant to assume the other characters speak the Queen's English, as no specific dialect is otherwise indicated. McGonagall is Scottish but it's never mentioned that her accent might be as well, and her dialogue doesn't indicate it is either. In fact, if you do a quick search on potter-search.com for the word "Scottish" the only instance that comes up in any of the HP books - which are set in the Scottish Highlands with McGonagall as a prominent Scottish character - is at the end of Deathly Hallows when the dragon the trio break out of Gringotts deposits them in the middle of a Scottish loch. It’s the only time the word Scottish is used in the whole series. I think that says a lot about JK Rowling as the writer and what her own biases are when it comes to writing representatively of the places her story - and its characters - inhabit.

I don't think Rowling put that much thought into Snape's accent and where he's from. The underlying message is that the Queen's English is the "default" accent and peppering her books with regional dialect in the dialogue of folksy characters like Hagrid gives them a bit of color, or that giving someone like Mundungus a Cockney accent denotes his being an untrustworthy criminal (and it's not exactly a revelation that she has unchecked internalized biases that show through her writing). But I also think that she wrote Snape with Alan Rickman in mind and that made her vision of him a bit conflicting, ie. she wrote his backstory as growing up in a Midlands slum and yet he speaks like the RADA trained actor she envisioned him as in her mind.

That won't stop me from coming up with meta about Snape's accent, though! I've been thinking about it lately, actually, because I see a lot of posts that talk about how he must have lost his accent at school to fit in with the other Slytherins, since there are, historically, many pure-bloods and Sacred 28 families in that house and he would have had a hard enough time fitting in as it was. I've always thought these theories made sense but lately I've been wondering if there could be an alternate reading of Snape's accent.

We don't really know much about Snape's mother but I've thought about how she might have come from a reasonably well-off wizarding family, or at the very least from a higher class background than she ended up raising her son in. Although most Brits grow up speaking with the accent of their region, some do grow up speaking how they're taught to at home if it diverges from other locals. The example that comes to mind is how John Lennon always had a scouse accent having grown up middle class in Liverpool, while Paul McCartney - also from Liverpool - spoke the Queen's English because his mother insisted on teaching him to speak it at home, despite their family being working class, in order to give him a leg up through the classist confines of British social classes.

So my own meta has lately been to play with the idea that Snape always spoke with the accent we see his adult self speaking with, because his mother wanted him to have a chance to do better in life than what she was able to give him (again, given how classist British society is, and was especially back in the 60s). It may also explain why he had so few friends as a child: if he was raised to speak the Queen's English in a working class slum, the other children may have ostracized him for it and he may have inadvertently alienated them.

The idea that Snape has always spoken with the accent he has as an adult is partly supported by the conversations we see between Snape and Lily as children, where Snape's accent isn't written in the regional dialects we see other characters having. There are a few minor moments where young Snape seems to have a Northern lilt, but it comes off more as something that slips into his speech than characterizes it, when compared to Mundungus or Hagrid (emphases mine):

‘We’re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you’re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you’re eleven,’ he nodded importantly, ‘and they start training you, then you’ve got to go careful.’ ______ ‘They wouldn’t give you to the Dementors for that! Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You’re not going to end up in Azkaban, you’re too -‘ He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing. ‘Tuney!’ said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. ‘Who’s spying now?’ he shouted. ‘What d’you want?’

-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33

There's a bit of Northern in how he says "you've got to go careful" and shortens "do you" into "d'you" but overall his speech is fairly standard Queen's English. It sounds more like a kid trying to sound cool, the way the Weasley twins and even Ron often do (Ron saying "geroff" to his mum, the twins shouting "oy" to each other or saying "blimey" even though they all grew up in Devon and their speech is generally also written following standard Queen's English).

Young Snape's accent may also have been something that caught Lily's attention or just put her at ease - seeing this skinny, twitchy kid wearing odd looking clothes and looking uncared for and poor but hearing him speak with a more familiar accent and vocabulary would have made it easier for her to connect with him. We see from Petunia's dialogue as an adult that she speaks the Queen's English, so we can assume the two girls grew up speaking it at home. There aren't really any colloquialisms in her speech, and what little (and it's really so, so little) we see of Lily seems to show the same.

Some people claim that Snape’s Northern accent comes out when he's triggered, but I can't find examples of it. At his most triggered in the Shrieking Shack in PoA, he still speaks as he always does:

'SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!’ Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. ‘Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck, you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he’d killed you! You’d have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black - now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!'

-Prisoner of Azkaban, Ch. 19

Even in HBP when he's fleeing and Harry triggers him, his speech is consistent with hiw it’s written through the rest of the series:

'No, Potter!’ screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backwards, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenceless as Dumbledore had been. Snape’s pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. ‘You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don’t think so … no!’ Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. ‘Kill me, then,’ panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. ‘Kill me like you killed him, you coward -‘ ‘DON’T -‘ screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them, ‘- CALL ME COWARD!'

-Half-Blood Prince, Ch. 28

There isn't really much in these moments to suggest a Northern accent coming out. So in a radical departure from the fandom, I've been mulling over the meta that Snape always had the accent we see him with. It's not as unlikely as people think, and certainly not impossible.