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its44intheehouse · 7 months ago

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Matt Rempe - NSFW ALPHABET

Note: If you’re confused as to why this isn’t F1 related, I also watch hockey. Been watching this man for some time now and I can’t believe there isn’t more content on here for him. Guy’s a catch. But do not worry, I am here to solve that problem. Anyway, enjoy. As always this is VERY juicy 🍒😉

A - Aftercare. (what he’s like after sex)

Matt is a big aftercare guy but not in the way you would think. I think he would be the one to receive it mostly. Yeah, he’s very considerate and caring and will always make sure that you are alright after sex, but this big guy is the one who will act like a little baby in need for affection and love. All he wants to do after sex is cuddle and put his head on your chest so you can play with his hair as you praise him for how good he was and how amazing he made you feel. Don’t be fooled by the fact that he’s a 6’7” aggressive guy on the ice because outside of it he is just adorable.

B - Bodypart. (favorite body part of his and his partner’s)

Definitely his hands and back. He takes good care of his body because his role on the ice is more on the physical side, so he has to stay fit. His hands help him at throwing the punches that everyone loves to see at the games. But they’re also one of the things that makes you horny the most, so that’s another reason for why he loves them. They’re just so big and strong that he could lift you up like you weight nothing. He knows you got a thing for them, especially when his fists are bruised and bloody from a fight. You care deeply about his well being and you’re always worried for him when he gets himself in fights, but you just can’t help but imagine his fingers in your mouth, tightening around your throat or deep inside your pussy. And he’s more than okay with that. He’ll tease you about it just to make you nervous a bit, but he’s 100% into it himself. And his back? It’s huge. He loves it when you come up behind him and press your face into it, or when he’s fucking you so good you just can’t help but scratch it with your nails, almost making it bleed. It just makes him fuck you harder, and he enjoys the sting and the pain that comes with it.

On you, he gets feral about your lips and your tits. He’s always looking at your lips when you talk and will almost always be the one going in for a smooch. He can’t resist them, especially when you use your favorite flavored lip glosses on them. He’ll pull you in for a kiss without a care in the world that now his own lips are coated in your pink strawberry gloss. To him, there’s nothing better in this world than having you all for himself. But when he has you on your knees, with wide teary eyes looking up at him, struggling to take all of him in your throat, while his base is covered in your pink lipgloss? Yeah, that’s gotta be one of the best things he ever experienced in his life. And your tits? This man worships them. Of course, he loves all of you, but there’s just something about your breasts that drives him INSANE. He can’t keep his eyes away from you when you’re wearing tight clothes that just makes them pop out of your chest, and you always have to remind him not to be so obvious, especially when you’re in public and everyone can see him just shamelessly staring and almost drooling at the sight of them. He never listens though, and he has half a mind not to just grab them and play with them in front of everyone to see. He also loves it when you let him cum on them and his seed is slowly dripping down towards your stomach. He is nasty like that. The way they’re just bouncing up and down when he’s fucking you stupid is also a big turn on for him. He’ll slap your tits, squeeze them, suck on them, bite them and leave marks, anything. He is obsessed and he has no shame about it.

C - Cum. (anything to do with cum)

He likes it messy 100%.

He makes the decision of where he’s going to cum in the heat of the moment. If you give him permission to cum wherever he wants, he turns into a maniac. When you’re blowing him, although he loves it when you swallow, he thinks it’s HOT AS FUCK when some of his cum gets on your face. It gets him hard again in a matter of seconds. And then he’ll want to take your pussy for a spin and come inside. He gets so pumped knowing that he gets to leave a part of him inside of you, it’s almost possessive. He has so much cum to give you, and he loves that you’ll take it anytime and everywhere he wants. He’ll squeeze orgasm after orgasm from you just to see both your releases dripping out of your tight pussy, making a mess everywhere. If he’s taking you doggy style, he’ll cum both inside AND outside of your cunt, sometimes taking some of it on his fingers and spreading it on your ass or making you suck on them so you can taste how good he got you.

D - Dirty secret.

Matt wants to fuck you in your sleep. Now let’s not get it twisted, he would never do such thing without your consent. He kind of felt ashamed for wanting something like that, since it’s not a fantasy that everyone has, he thinks. But he can’t help thinking about it anytime he comes home at night after a game and he finds you asleep in his bed, with just one of his shirts to cover you, leaving your soft legs bare, slightly spread and so inviting. You look so peaceful, like an angel. Your hair is tousled all over the pillow, your lips are parted just a bit and your skin is beautiful and glowy in the pale moonlight creeping through his window. He’s so tired, but all he could think about since the game was over was you. Coming home to you, kissing you, having you in his arms. He knows you have your own busy schedule and you can’t always stay up just to wait for him to come back, and he never gets mad when he finds you already fast asleep. But sometimes it gets overwhelming for him. All he wants to do then is run his hands softly on your body so he won’t wake you up, get down and spread your legs wider so he can see your pretty pussy, already wet just from his light touches. He swears he’s never gonna get enough of how sensitive and responsive you are to him, even when you’re unconscious. He’d get feral over your scent and won’t resist tasting you. He’d keep his movements slow and steady while he’d look up at you, observing every whine you let out in your sleep, every time your brows would furrow, how your breathing would pick up. And even though he would love to have you cumming on his tongue, his dick is just too hard it’s almost painful for him. He’s humping the bed as he is eating you out, desperate to feel some relief. His selfish side would convince him that you love him anyway and you wouldn’t mind if he’d just slip it in.

E - Experience. (how experienced he is)

He is still in his early 20’s so I assume he’s not had a crazy amount of experiences. That, but also because he barely even had the time to get girlfriends anyway. To him, hockey was always one of his top priorities, and he chose to dedicate himself to it, because he knew that’s how you get to the top. Sure, he did have a few girlfriends in the past, but the sex was always kind of vanilla and bland. Probably because he never felt true love before you. When you two started being intimate he wasn’t too bad, he was still able to make you cum, unlike most men before him, but you could feel that something just wasn’t right with him. So you spent more time in building up his trust and making him feel more comfortable, assuring him that you would never judge him. He told you about how he wanted to experience more but he didn’t get the chance yet, and was more than excited to hear the same thing coming from you. You two spent a lot of time after that trying new things, testing your limits, and needless to say, he gained up a lot of experience just from doing things with you.

F - Favorite position.

Doggy or cowgirl. Normally, he fucks you in any position he can, and he’s not shy in changing them frequently just to make things more exciting and pleasurable for you. This man will have you everywhere and in any way you’ll let him.

But to him, there’s just something special about you in all fours, in such a degrading position. He loves you with all his heart, but he’ll fuck you like he hates you when you’re in doggy. He goes crazy over the desperate sounds you make, the way you grip the sheets or the headboard like your life depends on it as he is fucking you hard and fast. The way your ass jiggles when he’s thrusting his hips into you. He’ll spank you multiple times just to see your ass cheeks go red with his handprints, he’ll squeeze it, pull out of you for a brief moment just to bite it. This position doesn’t give him the best view of your face though, which he hates at some point, but not to worry about that! Matt will immediately grab you by the neck and yank you towards him so your back is glued to his chest as he squeezes your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. Now he can see all of you. How pretty you look with tears of overstimulation in your eyes, your makeup smudged all over your face and your fucked out expression. His pace would never cease, only increase while he busies himself by gripping your tits or flicking at your puffy, too sensitive clit, eager to make you fall apart again. He’ll groan in your ear and tease you, praise you and degrade you, because he knows you love it when he tells you you’re a good girl and a desperate cockslut both at the same time.

And cowgirl? His go-to when he’s feeling a bit too needy and submissive. As I said, he might be a huge guard dog most of the time, but deep down he adores it when he’s being taken care of and controlled, in a loving maner. Especially when he’s tired and can barely move, but still wants you. He’ll whine and push his face into your boobs and be extra touchy, hoping you’ll get the hint. After some time in the relationship you start to pick up on this habit of his and you happily indulge. You’ll have this man whimpering, squirming and grabbing at everything he can while you ride him. You never really looked forward to being on top before Matt, but with him things changed. You feel like a goddess when you’re riding him and keeping control of the pace while he is right there in front of you, with his head buried in your tits or slightly leaned back, looking at you like you’re going to be the death of him. Like he wants to possess you.

G - Goofy.

I would say he is goofy in bed, yeah. He’ll poke your sides or your butt, will randomly bite you and laugh when you yelp and jokingly push him away. But when things get serious, he’s rather more focused.

H - Hair.

Not shaved entirely but he keeps it neat and clean, trimmed short. Anything more than that is just too messy for him.

I - Intimacy. (how is he during the moment)

BIG on intimacy. Usually the mood is set by whatever the situation might be in the moment, but he’s always romantic. Not over the top type of romantic, but you can feel it. He pours his love into every touch, every word and every gesture. And even when he fucks you rough, he’ll always do something small to remind you that he loves you, like pressing a kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, looking you deep in the eyes.

J - Jack off. (masturbation)

Matt’s the horniest bitch you’ve ever seen. It’s so easy for him to get hard if he’s thinking of you, seeing or touching you. You’re tying your hair? He’s bricked up. You’re cutting some vegetables for your dinner? He’s throbbing in his boxers. Most of the time you offer to help him, but when he’s away from you for games he’s losing his mind. Thankfully, you’re lovely enough to always send him some special material when he’s away, and now he just has a whole ass private album on his phone with pictures and videos of you that he can masturbate to. He prefers to facetime you though, so you can do it together. But if you’re not available at that moment, the videos will do.

Will 100% send you a video to show you how desperate he is for you and how much he misses you.

K - Kink. (what kink/s does he have?)

I think he would be into light BDSM. Not the hardcore shit, just a bit of restraining and discipline for the most part. He’d love to have your wrists tied up and boss you around a bit more, if you’re into that. As much as he likes when you have your moments of taking control, he loves to take it from you and have you arching off the bed and rolling your eyes to the back of your head while he’s overstimulating your pussy.

Another one would be size kink. I don’t need to explain it too much. You’re so much smaller than him, he fears he might break you in half sometimes, even when you tell him that you can take it. But it also excites him knowing how much power he has over your tiny body. He’s manhandling you in any position he desires with ease.

I don’t know if it’s a kink, but he definitely has a thing for squirting. He’s so big, in all ways. You can barely take all of him and when he’s fucking you nice and good you feel like he’s abusing every inch of your cunt, in the best way possible. The first time you squirted you were left in shock and embarrassment, because, obviously you’ve never done that before him and you thought he might not like it. But oh boy, how wrong you were. He groaned and slowed down a bit but couldn’t take his eyes off the mess you made on both of you. It was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck. Look at that, my baby made a mess.” he smirked, tilting his head to the side and biting his lip. His eyes caught your wide ones and then he leaned closer to you, squeezing your cheeks and placing a messy kiss to your lips. “Again. I want you to do that again for me, yeah?” he said, and you didn’t get the chance to respond before he started thrusting into you again, picking up his aggressive pace.

L - Location. (favorite places to have sex)

For the most part, he prefers having you in privacy, on his bed or yours. Of course, sex with Matt will never be boring. He’ll fuck you in every surface of the apartment. But he isn’t a big fan of public sex. Mostly because he doesn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position or ruin his reputation. After all, he’s playing in the NHL and people like to talk. The last thing he wants is to have people spread word of him fucking his girlfriend for all to see. It could end bad.

Car sex also isn’t a problem, as long as you’re well hidden.

M - Motivation. (what gets him going)

Like I said, you could do any random thing and this man will get bricked up, and that’s because he’s just obsessed with you. But what gets him going the most is seeing you get all dolled up for him and admitting that the effort is all for him, while you’re touching him teasingly with your hands and batting your eyelashes innocently at him. Or when you’re attending his games and he can spot you for a brief moment in the crowd, cheering and wearing his jersey, his number and name on your back. You wear it with such pride that it’s making him burst. He fucked you a few times while you were wearing it, by the way. ;) . And he came hard.

N - No. (turn offs/things he wouldn’t do)

Nothing disgusting or that can hurt you in an unpleasant way. He would never.

O - Oral. (how good is he at it? preference on giving/receiving)

Man’s a munch. You can’t tell me otherwise. Y’all seen the videos of him sticking his tongue out after punching the shit out of the other players? Yeah.

And when this man eats pussy, he eats pussy. He won’t back out of it even when you’re pushing his head away because you’re too sensitive from all the orgasms he already pulled out of you. He loves to overstimulate you because he knows that it’s only going to make you cum harder. He’ll suck on your clit, he’ll push his tongue deep inside your cunt, he’ll spit on it, he’ll add fingers, anything to have you shaking and screaming in pleasure. He gets off on making you feel good.

When he’s receiving head, he gets animalistic. He won’t force you to take all of him in your mouth because he knows it’s too much for you and it won’t fit without a struggle, but if you’re freaky like that and tell him that it’s okay if he wants to fuck your throat, he will. He’ll still be careful though. He’ll push his hips into your face or wrap your hair in his fist and make you take him deep, fucking your mouth hard and fast, until you’re left gagging and crying. Happy tears of course.

P - Pace.

Going with the flow is his motto when it comes to sex. If the atmosphere is more romantic, he’ll make sure to give it to you slow and seductive. He’ll make love to you.

If you’re being a brat though, he’ll treat you like one. Disobedience needs punishment. And he’ll edge you for hours, deny you orgasms, just to teach you how to behave next time. It boosts his ego so much when you’re begging him to let you cum. He loves it.

When he’s mad and needs a way to relieve some stress or anger, he’ll also go for a more aggressive sex session.

Q - Quickie.

Not a big fan. Will not refuse it, but he prefers to take his time. Taking his time in making you feel good is one of his ways of showing his love to you.

R - Risk. (how risky is he?)

Living on the edge is what pumps him. He’s convinced that life is made to experience things. So if something pops into his mind and it excites him, he’ll want to give it a go. With that being said, he’s game for taking risks.

S - Stamina.

Matt has a lot of stamina. His workouts and his hockey career are always pushing him to do better, to endure more. And when it comes to sex, as long as he has the time, he could fuck you all day.

T - Toys.

He’s interested in them. He’s thinking of buying you a vibrator so you can use it when he’s away or if he wants to make things a bit more spicy when you’re having sex.

U - Unfair.

The thing about Matt is, he likes to tease you. He loves playing with you because he loves the look on your face and how whiny you get when you’re frustrated. He thinks it’s cute.

V - Volume. (how loud is he in bed)

He’s not making as much noise as you’d like. He’ll moan, groan, even whimper sometimes, but nothing more than that. It’s not because he doesn’t enjoy the sex though, he just gets too focused on his job. All this man wants is to make you feel good.

W - Wild card (random headcanon)

Wants to try cockwarming. There’s nothing better for him than being buried in your tight, wet pussy. He knows he’s probably not going to resist for too long before he’ll start fucking you. But if he could, he’d have you staying on his cock all the time.

X - X-ray. (what’s under)

No one can tell me he doesn’t have a huge cock. He’s easily above average, with a juicy mushroom tip. Girthy. Will have you struggling to sit down or walk for several days.

Y - Yearning (sex drive)

His sex drive is through the roof. In general, he enjoys sex. He’s not crazy about it, he will still live if he doesn’t get it But if he loves the person he’s with, he wants it all the time.

Z - Zzz

Dead asleep as soon as he pulls out and crashes beside you. He always gives it his all, but when he gets tired he is knocked out. He’ll put his hand on your tits and sleep like that.

#matt rempe x reader #matt rempe #matt rempe smut #new york rangers #nhl hockey #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl players #nhl fic #matt rempe fluff #nhl imagine

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hwanchaesong · 7 months ago

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Can I request a San and a seongwha version of the virgin reader request pleasee?

Too scared to show name so I'll leave an emoji🐈‍⬛

a/n: hello 🐈‍⬛ anon, imma just make this as a headcanon so i can post both of them at the same time. tysm 🩷

mdni! Seonghwa's under the cut

San & Seonghwa w/ a virgin s/o

💜 Choi San

very very very sweet but also wild ‼️

like, you'd tell him that you're ready and he WILL pounce like a cat

he will pepper you with kisses to calm your nerves down

eskimo kisses to make you giggle bc he thinks that you, smiling under him is the MOST BEAUTIFUL scene he has ever seen in his life

man will make sure that you're comfortable at all times, guiding you throughout and watching out for your expressions

will definitely ask you your preferences

"are you okay? is my baby feeling good?"

"tell me if it hurts okay?"

like, he hears ONE grunt from you and he is stopping all motions to check up on you

will go missionary bc like i said, he has to see your face while doing the deed (it is a need)

he'll take it slow. make-out, smooching your skin all over

he won't forget to shower you with compliments

"my baby is so pretty"

"no no no, don't cover yourself. you're literally perfect"

"you feel so good, fuck, baby you're so tight"

body worship ‼️ you are a literal goddess in his eyes so he'll treat you like one

MIGHT be impatient when it comes to prepping you but dw!! he'll make sure that you're dripping and ready

uses his tongue and fingers VERY WELL

he'll have you mewling his name in no time

also, dancer hips galoreeee

he uses his hips so well. every thrust is loving but also it goes so damn hard

he's had you shaking and moaning

you wouldn't want any other man to take your virginity

you trust him and he will do everything in his power to make you feel safe and happy

you are HIS pretty baby, and he'll take care of you like that

🩵 Park Seonghwa

MOTHER OF CONSENT

y'all be making out in his bed or something then suddenly you go 'pls take me'

and he's like: ??? "baby are you sure?"

he'll ask you that about 10 times before he's convinced and lemme tell you. HE'S SO CARING BUT ALSO A LIL DEVIL

he's so good in riling you up

feathery touches that leaves goosebumps on your skin

sweet, hot, and messy kisses in your lips and all over your skin

removing your clothes is like unwrapping a gift for him, he's delicate but he also got these predatory eyes

he delves into you like a hungry lion, but a sweet hungry lion

he asks you every damn time if he's doing okay, if you're okay

"You're not in any pain are you? Okay good, please tell me if you're uncomfortable"

leaves marks all over you bc he's possessive af

also will not stop unless you've came at least once using his finger and once on his tongue

OH MAN HIS TONGUE

he darts it out like a chameleon in every performance so yeah, he'll use that tongue technology on u 2

licks and bites galore

he goes all in once he's sure that you're all prepped up to take him

moves slow at first then he'll probably lose control bc ur moans are music to his ears

also a lil bit teasing

"do you want me to go faster, baby?"

"say please"

"does my baby wanna cum? go ahead then"

uses a lot of petnames and will probably curse a lot bc he loses himself in u

MOTHER OF AFTERCARE

pls he loves u so much he's willing to do anything and everything for u after this. he's basically at your mercy lmao

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butterznack · 11 days ago

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baby, I’m good

Pairing : Hirai Momo x afab!reader

Summary : Dahyun’s latest post on Bubble got the better out of you, but Momo reminds you there’s more than one place for you to sit on her.

Genre : smut, established relationship

Warnings : 18+, fingering, oral (f!reader receiving), face sitting, clit stimulation, nipple stimulation

a/n : a little something for Momo day <3 (better late than ever lol) Dahyun’s bubble post got me feeling something like, make some room for me pls i swear i’ll behave >.<

There is no reason for you to feel jealous over Dahyun’s birthday post to Momo. All Twice members are close to each other, both in body and mind, and it isn’t as if you had never fallen victim to Jihyo’s drunken behavior and her accidental smooches at the corners of your lips, or Nayeon’s sticky fingers on your ass.

The photo isn’t recent, Momo had gotten a new haircut in preparation to MISAMO’s comeback, and so you pay it no mind, taping on the like button below the picture before switching to a different social app.

It isn’t long before Momo makes a grand entrance, waltzing past the entryway and straight to the living room where you are.

“Hi baby!” She chimes, bending down to trap your face in her hands and reach out to your lips, kissing you firmly but lovingly.

“Happy birthday love,” you greet her back as Momo pulls away, dropping next to you on the couch.

“What are you doing?” She rests her head on your shoulder, cheek pancaked onto it.

“Just looking at the stuff the girls posted for your birthday,” you smile, recalling one of Jihyo’s story of your girlfriend sleeping at a restaurant, a napkin tucked in the collar of her shirt that emphasized the comic aspect of the situation.

“You didn’t post anything,” you can feel her pout as she states the obvious, you know it’s not a complaint.

“I’m just keeping the best for last,” you grin. Momo pinches your side and you jerk up a bit without propelling your girlfriend off your shoulder. “Well, if I can do better than Dahyun’s post, that is.”

Your own words hit you only a second too late, and you don’t register Momo’s interrogative oh as she lifts her head to meet her eyes with yours. “What?” You shriek, fainting ignorance knowing damn well Momo is far from stupid and already sees right through your avoidant look.

“What about Dahyun’s post?” She asks.

“Nothing,” you lie, “I liked it.”

Momo is now fully facing you, one leg propped up on the couch and the arm of the same side against the backrest. She doesn’t say anything, but the moment you shoot a quick glance at her Momo huffs. “Are you jealous babe?” she quips.

You huff back at her, eyes not leaving the screen of your phone anymore, but you don’t say anything.

Maybe it was time for you to admit that it wasn’t jealousy, per say, but something akin to possessiveness. The image of Momo’s hand on Dahyun’s bare thigh burned into your hippocampus. You shrank in on yourself, chin nearly merging in between your collarbones as you slowly sank further into the couch.

“Oh my god, baby why?” Momo can’t help but snicker when you dramatically fall down the opposite side of hers. “Come back here,” she leans over and grabs you from under one thigh, pulling you with such force you oblige, soon straddling your girlfriend, facing her.

“Is that what you want?” Momo teases.

“Dahyun was facing the other way round,” you sulk.

“Yeah, but I can see you better like that,” she says, voice dropping an octave lower as she leans in to plant a kiss where your jaw and your ear meet. You hum in satisfaction, hands coming to repose themselves on Momo’s shoulders, her own settling on your waist. “So? Still jealous?” She keeps on kissing down your neck to the vale of your collarbone.

You whimper against her mouth as Momo lightly bites down on the muscle above, “I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” One hand comes sliding down your tummy, untucking your shirt from your pants and reaching back up to your breasts, grazing the underside. You arch at the touch, and Momo presses her hand against your sternum to keep you in place before latching her mouth onto your left nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

You gasp, one hand coming up to grip itself in her blonde bob. You try to push yourself onto her mouth, signaling to her to get more into it, but Momo keeps a strong hand between your boobs. The tip of her tongue flicks at your bud in kitten licks, and her mouth barely closes around it.

Momo is not one to tire from foreplay, she could go at it and tease you for several hours on end, and she has done so in the past. But right now, she’s doing this on purpose, because she doesn’t need a reason to taunt you like that.

You whine in protest, “Momo, please…”

“I’m waiting, love,” she replies, moving to nip at your right nipple.

Of course your girlfriend expected you to concede, to admit you were feeling a little jealous upon seeing that picture. Pulling one last time at her hair, you try to get her to look at you, “I was not jealous,” you say resolutely, “maybe just a little possessive…”

“A little?” Momo stops, fighting the urge to mock you with yet another smirk.

“Don’t push it,” you snarl.

As if to mean that’s enough for me, Momo wastes no time and has you remove your shirt completely, followed by your bra removed by her hefty fingers, and dives back onto your tits, suckling at the nipple again.

You cry out, a sense of relief washing over you, soon replaced by the itchy feeling of your growing arousal. A feeling you don’t have to focus on for too long as Momo is already slipping a hand in your pants and underneath your panties, fingers brushing your clit before sliding down your slit.

At the pace she’s going, you think you might combust on the spot. “So wet, just for me,” Momo whispers in your ear, and it’s not helping, just riling you up even more. She notices and slides one finger in your pussy, all three knuckles in. You let out a lengthy moan, tightening your hold on her shoulder and in her hair.

“Careful, I’m not not planning on going bald,” she scoffs, stopping amidst the process of giving you yet another hickey between your tits.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, “I’m sorry baby.”

“Don’t worry, you’re excused,” she states almost too matter-of-factly as she adds a second finger and starts to pump them in and out of your cunt.

She sets up a fast pace, sometimes rubbing at the spongy spot inside, coating her fingers in your arousal. Momo avoids your clit, trying not to let the palm of her hand touch it. You notice it rather quickly, moans now substituted by whimpers, seeking more of her, more than just her fingers in your pussy and her mouth on your tits.

You believe Momo takes note of the sudden shift in behavior right away. She takes her free hand and brings it to your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. It’s messy and devouring, tongues and teeth meeting and clashing with each other, mouths agape letting out the sultriest moans out of the two of you.

You had been so focused on your own pleasure that you didn’t attend to Momo's. Though she didn’t complain, and never did, you’ve always felt a bit guilty that she would care more about your needs than hers.

“You know where else you could sit for me?” Momo prompts, as if noticing, again, you were drifting off in your thoughts. She let her hands fall to your hips, then lower, grabbing at the soft plush of your thighs. “Where?” You ask, knowing the answer already.

“Take off your pants,” she demands and again, you oblige, moving at light-speed to rid yourself of your clothes. At the same time, Momo lays down on the soft seat cushions of the couch, guiding you back down on her.

Her arms snake behind your thighs, and your knees are on both sides of her head, not too close but apart enough Momo can have you sit on her face as much as humanly possible.

You always hesitate for a second. Despite getting off to the sight of your girlfriend enjoying herself being squished between your thighs, you couldn’t help but need her approval to finally sink down on her face. An approval that came in the form of Momo bringing her mouth to your throbbing clit and pulling you down at the same time, and there’s nothing you can do to keep the moan from coming out of your vocal cords, raw and high-pitched.

One day, that woman is going to literally eat your pussy.

Momo finally gives all the attention your throbbing clit was craving. No teasing needed, she simply wanted, ached, to lose herself into your cunt, tongue switching from lapping between your folds to flicking back at the swollen bundle of nerves above. Anytime you arch your back, you also press harder against her mouth. Momo hums in contentment, one of her hands leaves your ass to relieve herself of some of her own pains and aches.

There is nothing but a symphony of moans and whimpers filling the living room. Pleas run out of your mouth in search of a desperate release, you grind your pussy against Momo’s face and she keeps on sucking at your clit, tongue going back into folds, fucking you relentlessely with it.

“Momo… I’m so close,” you chant her name over, and over, and over again. Momo pinches her eyebrows, as if trying to catch up with you. You take over for her, placing your hand below hers, applying pressure while rubbing her clit in repeated motions, rutting continuously as Momo joins you in your fun, grinding against the palm of your hand.

“That’s it baby, come for me,” she mutters from under you.

That tight feeling in your gut snaps when Momo bites and sucks at your clit again. You cry out your release, and your fingers slip past her folds in one swift motion, making Momo whimper as her orgasm crashes over her as well. Coming down from your high, you lift yourself up, licking at your fingers to get a taste of Momo’s.

You settle over her lap, plopping onto her chest as your girlfriend hugs you, hands running up and down your spine. You raise your head, cradling Momo’s face and kissing her, chaste but longingly.

“Hope the seat was to your confort,” she murmurs mid-kiss.

“You can’t imagine,” you chuckle.

#✒️ – fics #twice imagines #twice fics #twice smut #hirai momo #hirai momo x reader #hirai momo x you #hirai momo x y/n #hirai momo smut #momo x reader #momo x you #momo x y/n #momo smut

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pix-writes · 25 days ago

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The post of Ford being naturally affectionate haven't leave my mind omg but (in your opinion) what about the other way? What would happen if the reader is casually affectionate to the Stan's? Rubbing their hand on their back, leaning their head to his shoulders, briefly touching their hair, etc

I think they are both naturally affectionate, it comes out in them in little ways. But omg if someone did it to them?! Absolutely flustered! I think we've seen a lot from the series and so forth to suggest that both of them don't quite know what to do when someone turns the tables on them, and is geniunely interested in them.

(rest under cut)

Stanley loves it, he'll not think too much of you putting an arm around him or something small like that, but more affectionate touching (e.g your hand rubbing his back) without him somehow initiating it? He's a mess, he's not used to it and gets flustered in the beginning! He panics just a teensy bit and if you ask if he's okay or try to stop the touch he'll reassure you its fine, but he's doing a bad job at maintaining that smooth, confident facade, for sure ^^'

He'll make a few little jokes about it if he feels too startled about you initiating casual affection, even ones that are a little flirty, cause he does like it, he's just not used to it. (like "woah there, toots! hands off the merchandise!" or "you feel that? that's made of husband material!" *wink wink*) xD

He may even confess he doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, which (un)fortunately for him only spurs you on to do it as much as possible. (On a sadder note, I think Stanley has gone without so much affection, especially romantically, or has been used to things going badly in the past, that he might have some moments he's suspicious that you have ulterior motives. But I think, since having the twins over for the summer and reconnecting with his brother he'd be less jumpy/paranoid.)

But he likes a little bit of PDA, Stan's heart will swell with pride and affection at some of those touches, especially if you lean your head on his shoulder, link your arm through his, those sorts of things. It feels 'gentlemanly' to him, like when he used to go to the pictures as a kid, where the young lead would 'court' girls in the movies he watched. I mean, he watches the duchess approves, this man has a romantic streak! Just don't call him a sap, he'll never admit to it. Though, after a while he'll lean into it, and when he does he'll 'get you back' for being affectionate to him, like when you came up to kiss him on the cheek when he had a lull in the tour he was doing? Expect 'revenge' in the form of being teased mercilessly

(the kissing exchange rate is exceptionally high, so now you will receive 5 kisses back! The next day it's 10 kisses, 'why is it so high', you say? inflation ya know? but then stan forgets to count and is like 'ah, screw it!' and drops the play act to properly smooch you <3 if dipper and mabel are around to see these antics they will voice how gross this is haha)

Stanford is more or less the same, in that he has gone without such affection for long periods of time, even if he had friends in other dimensions. Man is more touched starved and not as open (initially) to casual affection from someone, but once he becomes more familiar with you, he would be naturally affectionate too! It catches him off guard a lot more in comparison to his brother, though, he's still adjusting a little to 'normal' life, so its best to make sure he's aware that you're going to touch him as the contact might make him literally jump, out of pure instinct!

He's definitely flustered and surprised that someone else is initiating touch/affection with him, at first he is a little bewildered and feels insecure, he's out of his depth as he feels like doesn't know how to reciprocate and he hates the feeling; he feels bad because he is touch starved some of the time he becomes touch averse. (He'll have to bite the bullet and communicate that it's okay, instead of having an internal meltdown; he's been healing well from the past, so he'll quickly realise this is needed.)

So, he settles into welcoming it, he may be out of practice but it's nice to have someone who is comfortable around him so much that they would want to rest a head on his shoulder or hold his hand or let him hug them. That's just what friends do and he will start to trust and feel safer around you more, for the casual affection you show.

He's a little more reserved than his brother, but nevertheless he does like the attention - especially in public, though he's not really one for PDA, he likes holding your hand.

Just might take him a while to fully realise when its romantic vs platonic, potentially, but if you're already in the romantic zone, I think he'd be a lot more aware that you're being affectionate and he'd still have times he'll blush because of it and get all dreamy-eyed since he's not used to it, but also he just loves the reassurance your physical touch gives him that you love him too! He definitely confesses at points that he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to the casual affection you give to him so easily, will sometimes even apologise for being caught off guard by your affection. Does (rarely) get a little annoyed by your affection when he's absorbed in his work becuase he doesn't want to be distracted ^^' but that's only because physical touch is actually a strong love language for him, he tends to feel like he's been switched off or short circuiting when you rub your hand across his back or through his hair, he'll never finish those equations now! hehehe

(have you ever seen those tiktoks where someone is like asking my nerdy bf about *insert interest here* whilst wearing something revealing, or something along those lines and they get all flustered and trip over htier words? yeah, that's Ford! He'll make a good attempt at trying to be composed at first tho, but it's ultimately gonna fail!)

#pix replies #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #stanley pines x you #stanford pines x you #gravity falls imagine #I hope this is okay I kinda wrote it out all in one go and i'm conscious i tend to repeat myself a lot haha #I just wanted to get this out as I've had this and another ask before my requests in my inbox for #a really long time #touch starved stans </3 <3 #stan twins

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mingsoooo · 1 month ago

Text

Just Us Two

Pairing: Jake& Sunghoon & the fem reader

Genre: R18, smut, unprotected, vampires

Synopsis: You were supposed to be at a match making ball. But why were you in the presence of the two men?

wordcount: 1.5+

Author's Note: AHHH! I FINALLY HAD THE COURAGE TO WRITE A SMUT??! WTF! anyways, although it is me pushin bounderies, i can tell it's not polished but welp, this is me today. I shall write better tmmr! enjoy

"Huh," you gasped at the sight of two men near you. The only source of light was the little lamp near the bedtable. It was still hard for you to cope that you had traveled through time and had landed in the household of Sim's. They were a warm family who were kind enough to let you stay with them while you stayed there as a guest.

"Ou, Y/n-ahh, you finally woke up. You see, me and Hoon were deciding who should be the one to enter you first." Jake's eyes glistened in a vermillion red.

'Eh? What?' Your blurry eyes shot open. What on earth was happening? All you knew was that you were about to attend one of the matchmaking balls for the first time, but then you drank a cup of water and then.

"Now now, how about you be a good girl and let us pleasure you?" Jake got down on his knees and pulled both your knees towards him. Meanwhile, Sunghoon, the butler of the family, had a cold look in his eyes.

He spoke no words but instead took off his shoes and sat behind you while you were dressed in only a single layer of clothing. Jake took off his gloves while his long, warm fingers slowly drew down your thighs. The touch was slow and teasing. "Ah~" You took a sharp breath in as he placed his entire palm on the side of your enclosed thighs.

You could feel your head clouding up. Meanwhile, Sunghoon nibbled on your earlobes. His wet lips slowly bit your ear while his crotch directly pressed against your back.

"How could you go to the matchmaking when you have us~" Sunghoon had a bitter tone in his voice. He moved down from the ears as he started to lick your neck. You could feel your body starting to feel ablaze as these two men focused on your two holes.

"Tsk." Jake clicked his tongue as he spared a glance at your face, which was pulverized to the core. Just the hot breath of Sunghoon was enough for you to feel the ecstasy, which didn't sit quite well with him. He forcefully opened your legs, diving his face into your womanhood. Underneath the chemise, his warm breath hit your sex, which throbbed.

In a slow motion, his tongue touched your clitoris. In just a touch, your soft moan entered Sunghoon's ears. It was sensual. Sunghoon, meanwhile, took his sweet time biting and leaving marks on your neck. He kissed your jaw, your nose, your neck, and at the very end, your lips, while his hands reached for the chemise as he slowly took it off of you.

Jake fiddled with your clitoris with his tongue while a subtle amount of your juices started to hit his jaw.

"Your trembling, Y/N-ah. Do you want me that bad?" Jake sensually spoke while having his face only an inch apart from your womanhood.

"Yes~" you managed to say in between Hoon's smooches all over your body.

Your answer brought a smirk on Jake's face as he dove into your sex. Jake was not so gentle as he pushed his tongue through the hole, making you whine. Your insides could feel the burning sensation as he pushed his tongue through.

Sunghoon had both his hands touch your bosom. His big, warm hands fondled your breasts, slowly tingling your nipples while he pressed his messy lip on top of yours. Sunghoon was far from generous, as he too entered your mouth, exploring parts of you with his tongue while pinching your nipples. It was euphoria at its finest, intoxicated in the fluids of two of the finest men of the kingdom.

Your breath started to labour. It was hard to breathe as Sunghoon continued to kiss you, muffling and tying down your moans. Jake, on the down end, had started to move with a faster momentum, making your hips shake in a faster movement. His face buried in between your legs, your legs unconsciously wrapped around his neck while your arms reached for Sunhoon's manhood. The hard, thick dick had started to poke your back.

While you slowly stroke it underneath the pants, your hips could feel something burning up. Jake moved even faster, drinking away all your juices, while Sunhoon's grunts pleasured your ears as he nibbled on your shoulder. His gentle hands cupped your bosom, giving equal attention to each of them. Just a little more! You could feel your insides burning; your body started to move on its own as you gave all your attention to the hoon's manhood, which pushed you to be out.

"Ah~" you screamed out as you came out. The overflowing sticky juices were like a hot, thick stream of river that splattered on Jake's face, but instead of disgust, he had a golden smile on his face. You had your eyes closed, lips almost drooling. You were breathless. Accelerating heartbeat, and even your hand had let go of Hoon's dick.

Like a crashing wave, Jake drank all of it. Not leaving a single dropout just then Sunghoon made you turn towards him. His cheeks were rosy, his ears slightly flustered, and although your legs were not working, he took off his pants while kissing your right breast. His teeth slowly bit your tip while also caressing your other breast.

This time around, you had no control over your moans. You had your eyes closed while Hoon was done taking off his pants. His thick and long manhood stood straight, ripping hot. While Jake wiped his lips with the back of his hands. The sound of your moans was like music to his ears. Your body was trembling and your pussycat even more.

Your hole continued to throb, and so he pulled your hips back while leaning at your back. "May I enter you, princess?"

His hand spanked your butt cheeks, and only then did you tear your attention from Sunghoon and give a soft nod. It was fairly obvious you had fingered yourself every night, but of course, your tiny fingers were nowhere near the real thing. As Jake's thick dick entered inside you, you could feel yourself being torn apart. It was hurtful, tears pooling in your eyes, but instead of caressing you, Hoon brought your face closer to his dick.

"How about you lick it?"

His face underneath the lamp's dim light looked glorious, especially his scarlet-red eyes and his burning cheeks. Only a breath away was his dick, which you had touched and stroked. With curiosity, you wrapped your fingers around it and brought your tongue near its tip. Just as you touched it, it tingled. It had a musky scent.

While Jake slowly started to move, you too twirled your lips around Sunghoon's grith. Your fingers started to move up and down his size while your tongue took down a little part of him at a time. Jack, behind you, took his time moving his hips while spanking your butt; after all, you were a naughty little girl taking in two of the kingdom's best bachelorettes all for yourself.

Hoon pulled your hair to the side, taking a bite at your shoulder.

"Ah~" you whined in pain. His sharp canines entered your skin, taking away your blood while your insides throbbed. You tightened around Jake's dick, which only made him more excited. In the midnight, when everyone except the night creatures were said to have fallen asleep, inside the chateau of the Sim's, where no servants were present, three young blood shared their love.

The moans and groans and sounds of the bodies filled the air. The night continued to get darker while the three of them continued the filthy yet pleasuring act of sharking the fluids, intoxicating themselves until they completely became wild.

You had both your holes filled. Your senses had become numb, and especially having your blood taken, you had completely lost sense of yourself. You could feel the movements. The way your body prepared you to come. Jake started to move even faster. His hips thrust up and down, similar to Sunghoon, who had his bulge fill your lips with cum.

"Ah~ just like that."

Although Hoon was closed off and spoke fewer words, the way he had his way with his words was like a stroke of magic. Jake could feel your insides taking hold of him. Just a little more! He could feel it. Jake's moans and grunts started to get louder, and his spanks were even more.

"Ah~"

That was your breaking point! You cum along with Hoon and Jake. It was a sticky mess as all three of your sex juices mixed with your fluids. Jake had your hole filled with his warm white cum, which overflowed and even leaked on the bed.

Meanwhile, your mouth was filled with Sunghoon's cum. Warm, stinky, and mouthful as you drank it all, but your eyes started to get blurry. Naked under the mercy of two nightly creatures, you had fallen asleep.

"So brave to think this is enough to satisfy us while sleeping so peacefully." Jake reached to your face and pulled the hair from the side of your face.

#enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jake smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen jake #jake imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

Text

✶ GOJO SATORU ✶

(legend — a for angst, f for fluff, s for suggestive, m for mature | drabbles and thirsts will be < 2k words, fics > 2k) -> back to main masterlist

drabbles and thirsts:

go! – racer!jjk men (m)

racer!jjk men pt.2 — how did you two meet? (general, s)

undercut (f)

roommate!gojo has some... frustrations (m)

sub!gojo (m)

riding the jjk men’s abs (m)

$4 for a smooch! (f)

悟 — the importance of satoru’s name (f)

random sugar daddy!gojo thirst (m)

dimples (f)

his favourite w— student ! — a professor!jjk men au (m)

pussy drunk!gojo (m)

aftercare... pt.2 (f, slightly m)

SL*T HIM OUT ! (m)

prone bone (m)

honeymoon thirst (m)

soft is strong (f)

three squeezes (slight f, a)

possessive sex -> possessive breeding (m)

losing the v-card with satoru (f, m)

pressing down on your tummy during sex (m)

smug gojo (f, m)

panty tease (s)

random oral! (s, bit of m)

all bite and no bark (m)

poly rs w/ stsg (f)

head thru undies (m)

delayed gratification (m)

undercut . . the n*sfw ver. (m)

baby fever (f)

jealous racer!gojo (s, general)

plug (m)

car sex w/ gojo (m)

morning wake up call (m)

jealousy (f)

moisturising job (m)

sensitivity uppp ! (m)

spider-man!gojo drabble (f)

ay ! spank it. (m)

poly!stsg drabble (f)

hc’s / bulletpoints:

what they’re like as sugar daddies (f, m)

aftercare with gojo (f, slightly m)

cheesy pick-up line obsessed gojo (f)

taking care of you on your period (f, slightly m)

fics:

seven days a week (m)

protected vulnerability / stubborn heart (f, a, m)

roommate!gojo pt. 2 — baby blue sweetness (bit of f, m)

dad!gojo — when us means more than me & u (f)

dad!gojo pt. 2 — say yes to heaven (f, m)

roommate!gojo pt. 3 — laundry day (m)

after mission hours (bit of f, m)

just a door away (m)

bliss, pure bliss (m)

still (always) here (f, a) — spider-man!gojo

twice the trouble ! (m)

thank you for the support, everyone!

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krisseratops · 3 months ago

Text

I'm so. So normal. About. This. *Chewing on furniture*

Ughhh, today I spent the entire day thinking about spidervenom…!

I unfortunately have too many wips to work on anything with them now (plus, this week was full of Bad Days™ for me…), but I thought I might share a wip that has been gathering dust in my folder for a loooooong time now! The title is “5 times when Peter and Eddie didn’t kiss (and one time they held hands)” and it’s based on this idea that with the reality being rewritten so that Peter technically never married MJ (“One more day” was the name of that storyline in the comics…??) he instead has space to develop feelings toward Venom and this is a bunch of moments, mostly following the canon events, depicting their shifting relationship with each other.

Their first kiss wasn't, technically, a kiss. A tease, maybe. Definitely a joke. But a kiss...? Peter wasn't sure if he counted it (Eddie did, though). Simply speaking, he went too far with his comedy routine this time, got too caught up in his banter and mock-flirting. Laughing at the Symbiote's infatuation with him, not treating it as something serious, using it as the butt of the jokes. "You need to get over me, this is getting seriously embarrassing" and such and so on.

And obviously, the never dying "Alright, let's kiss and make up!", Once he webbed them up, after sending them crashing through a wall. It wasn’t a kiss, really. He had a mask on, after all. Venom's maw was sealed shut with the webbing as well. It wasn't a kiss.

Until it almost was, because when he leaned away, blank white eyes were wide with bewilderment, and the monster in front of him grew still and silent. He laughed awkwardly, breath tripping over his throat. "Aw, look at you getting flustered over a little smooch!", he quipped, eager to get away. Snap of a wrist and he was gone, not a single glance back left. He remembered feeling angry at Venom for making it weird and at himself, for feeling angry at all. It was stupid, almost as stupid, as feeling guilty over it.

There was no reason for telling this to MJ, right? She wouldn't want to hear about his heroic escapades anyway. Especially not if they involved Venom, even if they would be presented as a punchline, a pathetic loser, wincing in ridiculously parodied expression of disgust. Because it could have been disgust. Venom’s face was covered and their eyes weren’t exactly the most easy to read. Common sense prompted they were repulsed by the very idea of their “arch-nemesis” kissing them, even presented as a harmless joke. That’s why, there was no need to mention this to MJ. Telling her would mean agreeing with the insane thought that there was anything important to tell. And there was not. There was no reason to feel guilty.

Because this wasn’t a kiss.

There was another time, though, that could have been a kiss. Should have been, maybe. Anyway, that was what Peter thought now, looking back. It was a kiss he never got, but, at the moment, needed. Only at the moment, he would have regretted it so much afterwards.

That’s why Eddie was glad of the absence in its place. It would have added so much more wrongness to a memory already filled with a sense of misplacement and dissonance. Because, well, they really were out of place at Peter’s flat. He knew it, and Peter knew it, and the Symbiote knew it, maybe the most painfully of either of them. But there was nowhere else they could go, they needed a shelter and an ally. And Peter wasn’t really the type of person who would close doors in the face of the wounded and vulnerable. Even if the wounded in question tried to eat him a few times in the past and was now ruining his carpet with green drool. Which didn’t mean he was going to take it without complaining a little. Or a lot.

“Great, just great, whenever I think my bad luck finally achieved its peak, it’s ‘Surprise! Think again!’,” he wailed to himself, as he helped them to the couch. “To go from sharing an apartment with the most beautiful woman a guy could ever imagine dating, to hosting a slimy monstrosity - that has to be a new record of misery reached in a week!”

“A girl has left you? That’s what you’re worrying about?” Eddie snarled at him, his anger equally fueled by the necessity of relying on their foe and the needles of jealousy bleeding through the bond. “Carnage is out there, changing this god forsaken city in his own butchershop and you cry after a girl?!”

“First of all, I wouldn't say ‘left’ is exactly the right word to describe it,” he huffed. “We needed a break, that’s all. Happens sometimes in relationships, not that you would know anything about that.”

They rolled their eyes. The very idea that Peter could have anything worth competing with a shadow of their symbiosis was vastly ridiculous.

“We don’t care about your private life, Parker”, Eddie said, as they tried to settle on the couch in a position that would do the least damage to their bruised ribs. “Only whether or not you’ll join us once we recover our strength. Why, afterward, you can return to crying your eyes out, be our guest.”

Seeing Peter from this close felt weird, especially, since he appeared to indeed cry his eyes out barely seconds ago. Something squeezed Eddie’s heart at the notion, his Other, he assumed, must have curled around it, disturbed by proximity. He wanted Peter to just leave them alone, shut up, and let them sleep. This small room will surely be uncomfortable enough even without his presence around.

“And what if I won’t?” Peter’s voice was bitter, though there was no sense of intention in it, that is, one beyond getting on Venom’s nerves. “Maybe MJ is right, maybe I should sit this one out. Have some ‘me time’. Catch up with tv series. Bake cupcakes. Maybe I don’t want to, I don’t know, have my life ruined over and over again, because some freaks decided to go on a rampage!”

Before he could react, they grabbed him by his collar, tugging close, to shoot with a look of utter resentment.

“Listen chucklehead,” a low growl vibrated through their whole torso, settling on Peter’s face like icy dew, “Joke like this once more, and we’ll eat your spleen, got it?”

Words were followed by a curse, as they grabbed on their wound, bothered by the sudden movement.

“Well, if aren’t you mister persuasive, where did you learn such diplomatic demeanor-?” Peter tried barking back, supporting himself over the couch’s back. But the last part of the sentence stumbled over his throat and ended in a whine. From the few inches that separated them, they could see the threat of tears glistening in his eyes. Before they could fall out, he ran a hand over his face, covering the glimpse of emotions with irritation. “What did you even do to yourself? Should you bandage those or something?”

That felt terribly inadequate.

All of this felt unnatural to them, all of them. Not the banter, spite and anger, of course not. But everything accompanying them was off by a mile. No masks to hide faces, no punches and jaws clenching to tear limbs. This… this was too normal, too everyday-ish, too vulnerable for both of them.

“My Other should be able to close it up overnight,” Eddie mumbled. “It looks worse than it feels. Nonetheless, we still request your assistance.”

“I know, I know…” Peter sighed, bending closer, to get a better look at his chest. “What a wonderful profession heroism is, at first it was the papers, then the common people, but now even my villains are giving me lectures…”

The moment was laced with alarm, and surprise, and wrongness, so much wrongness. They weren’t used to being this close to each other, not without a clawed hand safely locked on the neck, or webbing fastening said claws to a wall. Peter looked up and the longer they were caught in the misplacement of it all, the worse it got. Because Eddie could feel his Other flowing close to the skin, almost pushing at it, conflicted between its hatred for Peter and yearning to be closer. Because Peter could feel the warmth of Eddie’s body and he felt so painfully human at the moment, beaten up and a bit upset, with just a splinter of fear dug in the pupils.

Eddie licked his lips.

Peter swallowed down.

And he was so lonely right now, so helpless and freshly torn open, so well aware that once tomorrow he would leave to fight, because of course he would, he would return bruised and bleeding, maybe won’t return at all, and…

Peter leaned in.

Just when Eddie leaned away.

Peter went to the kitchen right after, jumping up from the couch with energetic babble about having to change his bandages and how Eddie is not allowed to touch anything and how if he catches him messing up his books then, well, Peter might not be able to eat his spleen, but he’s creative enough to come up with something else.

The moment passed and it was for the best.

After that, they didn’t really work together for a while. Well, there was that one time in the court. But aside from that, Peter and Venom mostly were on their own ways, only occasionally clashing. And then, Eddie and his Other were both on their own ways too. He didn’t really monitor what was happening to him afterward. Partly because his own life was, as usual, in shambles. Partly because seeing Eddie like that, sick and broken, stripped of the anger to hide behind…

He tried to do better and that was all that mattered, really.

But then Anti-Venom appared. And surely enough, he was still trying. That was one thing Peter had to give to him. He also brought to mind a vision of a healing injury, with bones fused all wrong, festering. It was as if Eddie finally took a step back from one kind of madness, after which he jumped head first into one just as deep and unhealthy, just neatly tweaked here and there.

This kiss would have been the most feverish one. As well as the one Peter was the most grateful that it never came to happen.

The whole experience screamed “fever”, honestly. Oozed illness.What made it worse, was that it did make sense for Eddie to act this way. To swing back, so hard, from one direction to another. Who else, if not Eddie, would have come up with an idea that the best course of action to convince Peter that he’s all better now, “on the side of angels” and not crazy at all, would be to kidnap him? What he didn’t expect was the talk about friendship, along with the overfamiliarity. Then again, there was always this tension between them, wasn’t it? Flirting in the background of a deadly battle.

And that was what he was doing then too. Old habits die a slow and painful death, only to be zombified back to life, don't they?

“What would you think of me, if I’d let you take my mask off on a first date?”, he quipped, to Eddie’s dismay, as he struggled to peel the cloth anywhere above his mouth.

“You act like I’m Electro or Sandman. I’m on your side now!”, he huffed.

One of his claws strayed from its place, lingering for a moment over Peter’s lips, leaving his body frozen dead.

Oh no, he wouldn’t, blinked in his head before the monster in front of him hesitantly crouched down. Orange eyes were unreadable, and yet, there was an air of uncertainty, something just a step away from… what exactly? Peter refused to pinpoint.

Before, though, he even began to figure out what in the hell he would tell Carlie, Eddie backed down.

“...I get it.” His voice, although still changed by the slime covering him, got a softer quality now, with a tingle that paired with anybody else could pass for embarrassment. “I need to earn your trust. And I will.”

Later, he thought that perhaps this time it was Eddie who really needed that particular kiss. But he couldn’t have given it to him. He just couldn’t.

Right?

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #Im fine. Im cool. Just dandy. Real swell #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #HHRRRNHGHRNRHGGGRRRR #Clawing biting tearing flesh sobbing #This is so friggin good holy shit im buzzinggg #The teasing the tension THE FEELS #These idiots istg #Peter “this intimate teasing surely means nothing haha why do i feel so weird must be fever” Parker #Peter “i just got dumped and this wounded animal of a man and my ex are bleeding on my couch and i feel like commiting a sin” Parker #Eddie and Symby just... just... AUGHHH #Love love love the dialogue! Its so them and the snark is unmatched!#Like this had me so hooked from the start i was already loving it to bits #But then. BUT THEN!!!#“But then Anti-Venom appeared”#I get fuckin KOed #Sweet darling are you trying to end meeeeeee #No no im fine. Really. Totally not running around yelling or scratching the walls what gave you that idea #Im not hyperventilating you are hyperventilating #Holy FUCK #“The whole experience screamed “fever” honestly. Oozed illness.” Yeah thats an accurate description of how i feel about Anti-Venom too heh #Just... the theme i love about him so much... the cure entwined with sickness... i am unwell...#“He also brought to mind a vision of a healing injury with bones fused all wrong festering.”#“It was as if Eddie finally took a step back from one kind of madness”#“after which he jumped head first into one just as deep and unhealthy just neatly tweaked here and there”#“To swing back so hard from one direction to another.”#YES!! YESSS!!! THIS!! ALL OF THIS!!! YOU GET IT!!!! IM RATTLING YOU!!!!#“Old habits die a slow and painful death only to be zombified back to life don't they?” God this sentence hit me lika brick #👏SMOOCH👏THE👏MARSHMALLOW👏#DO IT YOU COWARD!!!

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n0tamused · 3 months ago

Note

dottore having to dispose of a faulty clone (maybe bc they were threatening reader) and then handfeeding reader parts of it like cannibalism as a metaphor for love…. do we see the vision or is this a little too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 💔💔

A/n: pookie you're all good, thank you for feeding my brain worms with this idea I'm sending you smooches. I do hope I executed this well. I had a lot in my head that I wanted to write for this but I didn't want this to turn into a word scramble so here's this. Enjoy <3

Content: Dottore x GN reader, dark content(?), a bit yandere, implied unhealthy relationship, implied cannibalism, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, idk what else to tag as I never posted something like this so if anything else needs tagging feel free to lemme know

Words: 735

Several candles lined the polished oak table, its surface smooth and almost sticky, the light rippling over the dark lines of the carvings on top like little light bugs chasing one another. The golden hues danced over the plates as well, but the dim light scarcely allowed for a good look at the dishes.

The fork extending forward to your lips was the only thing that held your attention long enough to be observed, taken in fully, lips closing around the bit of meat and vegetables. The juice and oil fills your mouth, sinking past your teeth and around your gums, the taste is rich yet stale all at once. You couldn’t comment on it, you didn't know what to say about it. Not with the Doctor sitting at your side and being the one to feed you so, so gently.

It's hard to remember when was the last time he looked so gentle, kind even, perhaps when he was lighting up the candles with such care, as if his own breath would blow the flames into a blaze, allowing you to see your plate in full.

The meat was well done, seasoned to your liking, and something told you it was Dottore’s own hand who prepared it, gave it his all to make it so perfect for consumption. Parts of him were laced through every sensation, every smell and every bite. Your own plate is set before him and he's cutting all your bites, spearing pieces of meat and salad onto the fork before feeding it to you, making sure you ate well.

The dull ache in your arms is brought back into memory as you languidly chew on a bite, and your fingers absentmindedly touch over your sleeves over where the bruises lay, feeling the ache grow.

“Do they still hurt you?” His voice called out amidst smoky smells and brown fog, calling you to the present. “Have you gotten any rest at all, my dear?” He added, his head tilting in your direction, his bird-like mask not allowing you for a glimpse of his ruby eyes, but from underneath you can see glimpses of the scars peeking through, teasing your eyes. For some reason he chose to wear it here, now, only puzzling you further.

“No.. no.. they're fine… I’ll get some rest later tonight, sir..” you reply as you swallow and watch how he grimaced at the title, and you nearly cough from how big this bite was, but you would have taken a bigger bite had Dottore allowed you to feast yourself. Perhaps not, but you told yourself you would. Be it the rich taste or some other factor, you yearned to take up each bone from the meat and lick it clean, sucking out the marrow from within and letting it melt into your guts.

Would he be satisfied then?

Would you be?

The candles flicker. He's still looking at you

“Are you still afraid? I've already told you so, and explained it many times. You have nothing to fear here. This was just an error in the system which will not ever happen again.. and you shouldn't have been around to witness it, anyhow..”. You have to wonder how he can say all this with so little fear. Then again, the clone was his creation. He knew it inside and out, every crevice and every wire.

“I understand.. it's just that.. I'd rather not face the others now..not after that..”

Truth be told, having him around was also slightly unnerving, as he wore nearly an identical face as the one that harmed you. They were the same, but also not. He was gentle, but he was not.

The one that hurt you was long disposed of and would never harm you again, but Dottore was once the one that hurt you, and now he has poured himself out before you, all for your pleasure and the sweet poison of safety and love.

He hopes to convey it to you through each meticulously put bite, every sip he graces your lips with. He had cut himself open for you and would do so again, just as he hurt you through that error. It came as easy as drinking and breathing.

“That’s understandable. I assure you are safe, and however dark the night may get - I'll be there with you… But for now, you must eat, not fear. Open wide..”

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writing-intheundercroft · 1 year ago

Text

The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties. You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages. Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons. Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded. So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day. You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching. It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people. You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose. “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch. I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly. It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow. At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another. You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson! Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.”

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit. He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion. Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel. He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice. It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out. And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years. The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work. You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine. It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her. “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think. You’re at the top of your field. You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you. The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy. Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom. It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital. It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes. Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains. Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline. Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward. Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames. A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth. There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information.

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful. Lost a few–even more are bleeding. It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them. Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name. Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain. And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them. The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects. His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them. They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love. You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath. The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised. Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year. You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars.

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting. He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to. Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest. You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut. The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later. In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done. From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included). Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital. But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them. Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring. They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened. You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you.

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest.

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied. Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps. She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.”

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.

“How is Sallow? The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you. Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door. It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!”

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you. He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns.

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really? I’ve lost five damn years in my head? What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.” Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed. Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie. Was it a lie? You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back. “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay. We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water. Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel much better,” you assure him.

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes. He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere. But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period. It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body. With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him. The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso. Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy. He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room. You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago. You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered. Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off. His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union. You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you. You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch. Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her. She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here? It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you. I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth. That we ended amicably. That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt. Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde. It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact? Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home. Visitor hours are over.” you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry. I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours. I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks. Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart.

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave. You’re finally able to start your rounds. Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward. Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week. Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in. Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep. He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart. Nothing particularly new, and no memories back. He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies. It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell. A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops. You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving.

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.”

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian. Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me. Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again. You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably. One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.”

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely. You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles. It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child. It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully. Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning. Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean. It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound. You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue. His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me. I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that. I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve. Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.”

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him). “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument. “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer. It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters. You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl.

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it. She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him. He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me. Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian. You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else. Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him.

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind. Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable.

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice. That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.”

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold. I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?”

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies. You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron. When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man. He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles.

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face. The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful. Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable. And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore. In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen. He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight. You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname. And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room. But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you. At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily.

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them. Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars. They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart. I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure. That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have. You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that. So I packed my things and left.”

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back. After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted. Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love. He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley. Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror. A damn good one. The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others. I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you. We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks.

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement. A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it. But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged. It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight. And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay. That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly. “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him.

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him. From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And that’s good–it’s good for us now. It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy. I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man. That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you. But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly. You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love. You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest. I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together. The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy. Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat. Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration. At least he was when you were younger. Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even. The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.

The words replay in your mind. It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years. That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened. That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself.

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room. You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion. Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual. Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.

This is it. This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed. It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red. You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan. There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives. The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings. You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs. Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included. Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group.

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head.

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin. He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon. For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door. Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub. Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers. You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one. Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker. It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room. He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night. He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life.

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him. I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life. He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs. The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk. Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face. He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.” You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin. The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine. You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done. That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you. You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips. It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years. You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer. His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think. So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving. You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body. He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest. Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past. But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week. And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #Auror Sebastian #Auror Sebastian Sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #writing-intheundercroft #this one got a little out of hand #should I write a smutty part two?????

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