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ellivenollivander · 9 months

Note

So, your healer!sebastian post really got me thinking. If you want to, would you maybe write something about seb as a healer working somewhere, he had lost touch with MC, but she comes in gravely injured one day. He saves her and they reconnect?

@skittish1807 Thank you for your patience, I know it has been way too long since you requested this. I love you and your endless patience, pal. Special shoutout to cold brew, sweet tea and ambient world on youtube for helping me finally finish this fic. Rating: 18+ (Mildly NSFW for insinuations) TW: Blood, Injury, Death Mention. Word Count: 8,635 (I know, i'm sorry.) A/N: This is my first Sebastian Fic, please be kind lol

Reconciliation

Sebastian didn’t know exactly how things ended up the way that they did with MC, he just knows that sometimes in the quiet moments of his now hectic life, when he’s left alone with his thoughts, she creeps in from the recesses of his mind.

He can hear her voice when he’s working in the Alchemy room at St. Mungos, criticizing the technique he uses to prepare his ingredients. The hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he stands alone in the dark room, dropping his sliced dittany into the bubbling cauldron. Wouldn’t you prefer chopped? It brews so much more quickly.

When he’s blowing off steam in the cellar of his home, taking out his anger of losing a patient on the training dummy he paid off an Auror for. He can feel her fingers wrapping around his wrist, adjusting his aim or her hand on his hip, correcting his stance.

The soft morning light brings him the smell of her shampoo, from the nights she’d slept in his bed. After long, late nights of studying and searching for anything, tucked behind his closed bed curtains. She’d claim the walk back to her dorm was much too far and crawl between the covers, enveloping him with the scent of her. He would wake up and she would be gone, but the smell of her shampoo would reside on his pillow, proof of her presence.

None of these soft memories made him feel like he did now, lying on a cot in the room designated for Healers to catch up on their sleep during their long shifts at St. Mungos. Sebastian rarely slept, but he tried. He had found an old daily prophet, shoved beneath the pillow, undoubtedly left by one of his fellow healers and decided to try and bore himself to sleep with whatever mess the Wizarding World had found themselves in today.

He found the classifieds, black ink advertising Cruppies - Free to a good home! and Stay Warm with BOGO Self Warming Scarves and Gloves at Twilfitt and Tattings!, as his eyes moved from advertisements to job listings. The memory of how he and MC had spent many of their meal times at Hogwarts hunched over the same paper, talking animatedly about what they could possibly do with their lives after graduation, made his heart constrict.

If he lets himself think about it, her, too much he finds himself spiraling. Desperate to find her, desperate to make things right. Despite being an orphan, and no longer having any family to speak of, he thinks the pain of losing the girl he was in love with for three years of his life might hurt worse.

The knowledge that she was alive and well, and just not here with him, a fate worse than death.

There was nothing he could do about his parents or Anne or even Solomon, they were gone. Never to return. Sebastian wonders if the pain hurts worse, because it was exacerbated by hope that they could be together again. That she’d come back to him.

Which is why he pitches the newspaper against the wall opposite, before punching the tattered pillow he’s shoving his face into, silently pleading for sleep to take him. His attempts only last about ten minutes, before the loudspeaker above the door alerts him to an incoming patient, being transported to the Potions and Poisoning ward.

He heaves himself from the bed with a groan, stretching out his tired limbs and makes his way to the third floor, taking the stairs two at a time. He pauses for just a moment, when he arrives at the patient's room. His eyes watching the brass plaque alongside the door frame materializing with his name, a sentimental pride filling him at the sight.

Healer in Charge: Sebastian Sallow

It had been five years since he’d graduated from Hogwarts, three since he completed the Healer training program. His career choice had been heavily influenced by the desire to feel like he was doing some good in the world, healing instead of hurting. The hefty knowledge he already possessed in his fruitless search for a cure for his ailing sister had just been a benefit, aiding him along in the program, impressing his instructors.

He didn’t pause long enough to think about how it had been five years since he had seen her.

Sebastian pushes open the door, the clipboard instantly pulling itself from the wall and into his hands, greeting his patient with a small smile, his eyes on the clipboard.

“Hello, I’m Healer Sallow, I’ll be getting you sorted out today. What seems to be the problem?”

He studies the intake form quickly as he speaks.

Casper Doolan. Age 9. Potions Accident.

Sebastian’s demeanor shifts slightly when he sees the age of the boy and he relaxes his shoulders, plasters on a smile as he finally takes a look at the patient; A freckled blonde boy, who seemed to be sprouting leaves across his body, sat cross legged on the bed looking as though he had not a care in the world. His parents standing behind him, looking much more distraught, and a teen girl red faced and teary eyed.

Sebastian lets his hand drop the clipboard, which slots itself right back into place on the wall, and he steps closer to the family.

“Hey pal, Casper right? I’m Sebastian. I’m going to get you all fixed up. Alright? Mind if I take a closer look?”

When the boy shrugs his shoulders, he gently lifts the boy's chin to get a better look at the foliage protruding from his face, keeping a small smile on his face. “Mind telling me what happened?” He directs the question to the adults standing above him, as he’s leant down examining Casper.

The clipboard comes back from the wall, levitating in the air and the quill begins recording the words of the Doolans’ recollection of the events of the day. Their daughter had been practicing her potion brewing when Casper had been overcome with curiosity, and had taken a swig from her concoction. An hour later they had been sitting in the St. Mungo’s waiting area when no antidote or healing charm rectified the effects.

Sebastian let out a puff of air, nodding along to the story.

“Can’t say it’s the first time, and I know it will not be the last. Are you in any pain, Casper? Does it hurt? Be honest, no being brave. It’s important that I know.”

Little Casper shakes his head, relaying that it just feels funny. Sebastian gives him another wide grin, before turning towards the older sister.

“Can I ask what you were trying to brew?”

She tenses under Sebastian’s gaze, and he realizes he sounds a bit more accusatory then he had meant too and he clears his throat, holding his hands up. “I just need to know to help your brother… I’m not upset. This really does happen all of the time. Our little patients are notorious potion drinkers.” He smiles back down at Casper who blushes a bit at the comment. “He’s going to be just fine.”

She relaxes, her blush unfading.

“I…uh, I was working on a fertilizer… for herbology, it’s my worst subject in school… It was never meant to be drunk.” She shoots her own accusatory glare in her little brother's direction, and Sebastian has to bite back a laugh.

“Did you follow a recipe or were you just experimenting?”

The quill was poised to take down the information beside his head, his mind already moving in a million different directions on how to move forward with Casper’s treatment based on the information he was being given.

“O-of course I followed a recipe. It was the standard recipe for dragon dung fertilizer…”

At the words dragon dung, Casper’s face blanched at the realization of what he had consumed. He whipped around to face his sister, cheeks red with fury, the leaves in his skin shaking violently. Before he could start screaming at his sister, Sebastian spoke calmly, questioning if she had substituted any ingredients from the standard recipe. The scratch of the quill near his ear, oddly calming.

“No, I stayed true to the recipe but I hadn't added the mandrake yet, it was still stewing when pea brain here decided to take a swig.”

The quill continued recording and Sebastian nodded along appropriately, unable to keep back the playful grin at the name calling between siblings, his heart twinging in grief for just a moment.

“Good news is I think he’ll be just fine. Just have to allow the brew to run its course, I’d say. Let it pass through his system. Could give him a tonic to help it along but since he’s not experiencing any discomfort and he seems to be in good spirits, I’d hardly say that’s necessary.”

At the cheery diagnosis, the tension in the room seemed to immediately dissipate and the Doolan patriarch smacked Casper upside the head. As if he had been lying in wait to be told his son was indeed not dying, before he chastised him.

Sebastian bid the family goodbye, with a comment on lessons learned and to please come back if Caspers condition seemed to worsen in any way. Though before he left, he shook Casper’s hand like a man and slipped a candy into his palm. Before taking his leave with a small playful wink in the boy's direction.

The remaining hours of his shift included a disgruntled Auror who had been stuck feeling the effects of a tickling charm for a week, an elderly woman who had mistaken a Jarvey for a stray cat in her garden and suffered a particularly nasty attack and finally, another Hogwarts student who had botched a polyjuice potion and had found himself stuck between looking like himself and his next door neighbor.

Sebastian finally stood outside of St. Mungos in the summer rain, exhausted and desperate for a drink. He made his way to Undercroft, in hopes of finding some pretty little witch to help him forget the one everything in his life reminded him of.

If only for a night.

~*~

He had, and she did.

Though the only evidence of her presence in his home was the tiny bit of parchment she left on the pillow beside his head.

The pub had been lively, as usual. A popular spot for the younger wizarding demographic. Those that were out of school but not quite ready to hang up their hats and reminisce on their youth.

Sebastian had slid into his stool at the end of the bar, tucked into the corner. A whiskey sliding into his hand before he could even greet the barkeep, his best friend.

Ominis had purchased the building and opened his pub shortly after graduation, with the money left to him from his Aunt Noctua. He had been the sole heir to her estate, something he had only discovered on his seventeenth birthday in their seventh year. A ministry official knocking on the boys’ door in Feldcroft, bearing keys and paperwork.

He and Sebastian had spent an entire night drinking and laughing on the floor of the empty building, brainstorming names until they finally decided on Undercroft. An ode to their schooldays, to their little shelter in the storm of their youth. Hoping the name would inspire Ominis’ pub to be a similar sort of sanctuary for others. A place to unwind, to celebrate, to come together.

The Undercroft at Hogwarts had, of course, been where Ominis and Sebastian had spent a similar night of bonding. When Ominis had found him, crying in a corner, clutching Solomon’s last will and testament.

It had been the catalyst to the mending of their once thought ruined friendship. The guilt had overcome Sebastian, at the realization that Solomon had planned on giving him everything upon his death. The words had poured out of him with shaking sobs, dumping all of the trauma inside of him onto the boy who had just come to retrieve a forgotten textbook.

They had been inseparable ever since, Ominis had even officially moved into the home in Feldcroft, finally able to escape his family. He had sat with Sebastian when he received the news of Anne’s demise, tears of his own mixing with his on the quivering parchment in his hand. When he discovered how she had passed away alone and far from home at some London inn. The Aurors who found her only knowing to alert Sebastian by a folded up bit of parchment in her robes, A letter Sebastian had written to her just after he returned to Hogwarts after she had been cursed.

And Ominis had stayed when MC did not, her presence in his life fading more and more as the weeks passed after the night in the catacomb. Even more so, after Anne’s death when Sebastian had spiralled into the darkness of his mind. Swathed in guilt and grief with no foreseeable way of escaping it all.

He had been too caught up in his own pain to mind any attention to hers, and he had lost her completely. By the time he had relearned how to be alive again, she was gone. The situation too tedious to try and mend. He had let her go, knowing she’d be far better off without him, and by the time graduation came around, she was hardly more than a memory and had become yet another ache in his heart.

It was Ominis who had put him onto the pretty little blonde, a rag tossed over his shoulder as he leant across the bar to tell him all about how she was french and looking for a good time that Sebastian was all too happy to give.

Sebastian finally pulled himself out of his reminiscing, and out of his bed, to ready himself for his shift. The girl from last night already fading into just another memory of a good time.

~*~ The chill of the late morning air and the smoke in his lungs steadied Sebastian’s racing heart as he stood upon the roof of St. Mungos.

His morning had been taken up entirely by a handful of Aurors who had walked straight into a trap laid by a cell of dark wizards, led by a tip from an informant who had been playing both sides. He and his fellow Healers had managed to save most, but the one he had not is what had sent him up to the roof to clear his head, and settle his stomach. Every one of his failures twisted in his gut like a blade, making him want to crawl out of his skin.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he took another long drag of his cigarette, willing the vision of the aurors final moments from his brain, though he knew he’d be stuck with it until he drew his own final breath, just like all of the others.

He was pulled from his morbid reverie by a trainee healer, summoning him back inside from her place at the door, her arms crossed over her chest, an instinctual attempt to shield herself from the cold. Sebastian flicked the half finished smoke from his fingers as he turned to follow her back inside, the cigarette disappearing before it hit the ground.

The trainee quickly filled him in on his call as they descended the stairs, two at a time.

“Another Auror.. Got splinched when they attempted to apparate her here, away from the scene. Suspect her body was too weak to handle apparition. Had to arrange for an emergency portkey, she’s in a bad state.”

Sebastian nodded along, his heart racing once again, with a mix of adrenaline and dread.

Their feet landed simultaneously on the landing of the fourth floor, and the elder healer slammed through the door, to a small crowd and a blood bath. Right there in the corridor. He pushed his way through the onlooking Aurors in varying states of distress, to the figure lying on the floor, writhing and gasping in a pool of her own blood.

He had been so lost in taking in the damage, the hurt, his mind whirring a million miles a minute at the prospect of what he was walking into, he hadn’t taken a moment to register her face.

A face he knew, a face that had him stop dead in his tracks. It was as if ice water had replaced the blood in his veins as he stood over MC, convinced his racing heart had now stopped completely.

“MC?”

He allowed himself no more than a half second hesitation before he kneeled beside her twitching form. His eyes roamed her injured body, avoiding her face, unable to force himself to witness the pain there. As his hands found a wound in her abdomen, he knew this was more than a splinch, the mutilation was more than simply severed flesh.

Sebastian turned to look at the Auror standing closer than the others, trying to ignore the sounds of his old friends choked gasping. He had to bite back an exasperated laugh as he stared into the face of Leander Prewett.

“Prewett.” He closed his eyes, fixing his tone, the greeting had come out much more venomous than intended. The shock and terror he felt about this situation clouding his mind. “Can you tell me what happened?” He tried keeping his voice steady, as he always did when he took on the role of calm and collected healer as he questioned the man standing above him, who looked as panicked as he felt. Leander gave Sebastian a polite nod before recollecting the moment of MC’s injury.

“She’s..she's a scout. She went in first, surveyed the area… she knew it was a trap before any of us realized… one of the bastards ran her through with a blade… he came out of nowhere. Then.. it was just chaos… we were surrounded… After things were under control, we tried everything to stop the bleeding… to fix her. Wiggenweld, essence of dittany, every healing spell they teach us in the program. Nothing worked.”

Sebastians seemed to brain click back into place, and he shook off another laugh of realization as he lifted MC into his arms and off the stone floor, the sight of his lime green robes spreading beneath him a striking contrast against the pool of blood he had been kneeling in.

“Cursed. I’m positive the blade was cursed.” He nodded his head at the trainee healer who had been standing behind him, observing his work and she sprinted off for the alchemy lab, the knowledge she had absorbed from Sebastian at this point in her training made a verbal request redundant. Sebastian turned to push through into a hospital room to lay MC on the clean cot. He tried once again, to ignore the sight and sounds of the girl fighting for her life, the girl he once thought was the love of his life. Leander followed them inside, planting himself on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes never once leaving MC’s bloodied form. Sebastian couldn’t help the passing thought that the two Aurors were together, or the jealousy that suddenly roared inside of him at the thought.

He moved to the cabinet above the bed, his touch letting the lock release and the door fall open. He grabbed a small glass vial and turned back to Leander and MC, setting it down on the small wooden table beside him.

To ease Leander’s mind as much as his own, Sebastian welcomed the habitual way he slipped into a calm recitation of what he knew to be the issue, and how they could resolve it. Even now, amidst the chaos and fear, Sebastian felt a swell of pride and peace fill his chest, knowing he had found exactly what he was meant to do with his life.

“Suspect the blade was cursed to make the wound untreatable, to prevent any common healing rectification to take hold, unfortunately I also suspect it’s why we can’t heal the splinch either. The curse affects the entirety of her body, including new injuries. So this..” Sebastian holds up the small glass vial. “...Will hopefully slow the bleeding, while I do my work, the counter charms tend to take a bit of time, time that we do not have.”

Sebastian expected Leander to pelt him with panicked questions, or threaten his life if he did not manage to save MC. Reactions he was accustomed to receiving by loved ones of his patients, instead, the redhead simply nodded, his face stoic and determined. The Healer couldn’t help but wonder if the Auror was simply still in shock, numb from the battle. A part of him wished Prewett would yell or curse or panic, then, at the very least the only sound in the room would not be the sounds of their dying friend.

The Healer had no time to psychoanalyze the Auror, instead he put him to work.

“Alright, Prewett. Would you mind giving me a hand holding her head back?”

Leander didn’t hesitate as he gently took MC’s head in his hands, and tilted it back so Sebastian could pour the potion down her throat, with shaky hands, trembling with anxiety at seeing his former friend in such a state. Prewett’s hands on her head ensured she didn’t choke them back up or spit them out in her fight for breath.

Despite Sebastian being finished feeding her the potion, Prewett didn’t move his hand away from where it rested on the top of her head, his fingers trailing through her hair in what could only be interpreted as comfort.

Sebastian stamped down the bubbling angry jealousy at the gesture, and set the empty vial into a hole in the wall, where they promptly disappeared, knowing it would reappear back in the alchemy lab instantly, ready to be sterilized and reused.

He returned to the side of the bed, pulling out his wand, and began softly muttering the necessary charms and counter curses. So lost in his work, he didn’t notice his trainee return, setting the necessary potions for the course of the treatment onto the table, at his side.

He wasn’t so lost in his work, however, that he didn’t hear when Prewett finally spoke up, his voice quiet and soft, words directed at the trainee. His gaze was on MC who was still in a state of agony, her gasping still the only sounds in the room until he had begun to speak.

“I told them we shouldn’t have tried apparating with her, that we should wait for a portkey or summon for a healer to come to her.”

The trainee shook her head in sympathy, her mouth opening and closing, completely unaware of what to say, how to help the man who had brought MC to them to be saved. Sebastian understood this was one of the hardest parts of the job, of their careers. Dealing with the patients' friends and family. When MC’s body seemed to be wrapped up in a golden light, he exhaled softly, and lifted his wand from where it rested centimeters above her body, its tip lit with the same golden light. Then, he sent his trainee out to assist the other healers with their work.

He attempted to crack a joke, to lighten the mood now that he knew he could fix her, heal her.

“Turns out some Aurors do have brain function. Wouldn’t have expected it to be you though, Prewett.”

Sebastian felt a bit of satisfaction when his playful jab pulled Leanders gaze away from the girl in the bed, and on him with a roll of his eyes and a small smirk. It wasn’t Leander who returned the banter, however. The choked words and sound of MC’s voice made both men startle.

“Fuck off, Sallow.”

Sebastian couldn’t help the grin that split his face, and Leander wore a matching one as he looked back at her, quickly pulling his hand away from where he still had it laid on her head. She was still twitching slightly and her face was still contorted in pain, but the curse leaving her body and the slowing of the blood flow must have had her pain dissipating just enough to be coherent.

“Well, seems she’s at least in good spirits.”

Leander spoke first, and Sebastian knew he had to pull himself together. His mind already running with hope that this could be what brings MC back to him, this could be his chance to redeem himself to the last person alive he still felt indebted to do so.

When MC met Leanders gaze, and her pained look twisted into an almost smile, Sebastian swallowed thickly, his arm moving to pull out another potion from the cabinet.

“You two together, then?”

Before either Auror could respond to his query, a knock on the door pulled all three of their attentions towards it. It opened slowly, revealing an older, official looking wizard, who barely glanced at the girl in the bed before turning his stoic gaze on Leander. “Prewett. Boss wants your statement. Now.”

Leander stiffened, his eyes flicking between the man in the door, MC and Sebastian. Who was torn between wanting information and wanting to be rid of the one thing standing between him and being alone with MC. He continued his work, pretending not to pay any attention to the exchange as he gently applied the potion to the two gaping wounds in MC’s abdomen.

MC hissed at the sensation of the liquid dripping into her body through her lesions and she spoke to Leander through gritted teeth, her voice tight with pain, assuring him she would be fine. Prewett rolled his eyes, but patted her arm gingerly, and made his departure with a small scowl.

Sebastian kept his gaze on his work on the injuries, smiling when he watched the essence of dittany do its job, stitching her flesh back together. His grin grew wider when it stayed that way, his mind now reverting back to what he could possibly say now, with his work nearly done, the girl beneath him nearly healed.

“Merlin, that feels so weird every time.” MC’s voice sounded lighter, less tight and laced with pain as she commented on Sebastian’s healing work on her damaged body. Sebastian tilted his head to smirk down at her, another playful glint in his eye.

“Finding yourself injured quite a bit then, MC?”

Clearly uncomfortable with the seemingly imbalanced power dynamic with Sebastian standing above her, MC tried to raise herself up into a sitting position with shaky arms, ignoring his teasing comment. Despite the pain dissipating with the disappearance of her wounds, she was still quite pale and Sebastian could see the dizziness in her eyes. He instinctively grasped her shoulders to lie her back down on the bed, earning himself a scowl that brought him right back to age 15 when he’d try and steal from her Honeydukes haul.

“Oh wipe that scowl off your face, I’m trying to help you, you know. I’ve already saved your life.” Sebastians tone was firm, but laced with a familiar playfulness he always felt with her. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, MC. It’s why you feel so weak.” MC, in fact, did not wipe the scowl from her face, but she did lie back down. Sebastian was grateful for the small victory as he popped the cork of the last vial, the one the trainee had fetched for him from the alchemy lab.

He offered the vial to MC with a small smile, and an expectant look.

“Drink up, Buttercup.”

Her scowl deepened, but she obediently took the vial with shaking hands, but before she tipped it back she looked back at Sebastian.

“Am I at least allowed to ask what this is or am I just supposed to trust you?”

Sebastian knew she meant nothing more from her choice of words, but they stung just the same. His mind ran off with memories of everything he had put her through with her trust in him. How he had lost her trust, her friendship, her love for him with his reckless pursuit in their adolescence.

He recovers quickly, with a roll of his eyes as he tilts the vial up to her lips with two fingers.

“It’s just a blood replenishing potion, I promise. Now, drink before you pass out.” He crosses his arms, watching her expectantly, before cracking another joke and making a move to stop her from downing the vial. “On second thought, if you do pass out I won’t have to put up with your sass.”

MC shoots him an unconvincing glare as she swallows the dark red liquid, wincing at the taste. It was hard to believe that it had been nearly six years since the two had seen one another, and had been even longer since they’d had a proper conversation. Yet, here they were, falling into easy banter as if no time at all had come to pass.

As Sebastian brings the vial back to the depository to send it back to the Alchemy room, MC clears her throat, and with the effects of the potion already settling into her system, she sits up in the bed using arms that are now much more stable.

“We aren’t… together, just so you know. Leander and I. We’re just friends, partners at work, but not… together.”

When Sebastian doesn’t respond right away, because he’s lost in a sea of thoughts of everything more this could mean for him, for the hope he had slowly building inside his heart. She speaks again, her voice sounding much more irritable.

“You asked, before… which is why I’m telling you. You asked.”

Sebastian gives her another teasing grin, quirking an eyebrow at her ready defense as he returns to her bedside.

“Ah, and here I thought you were simply coming onto me. Wouldn’t be surprising if I'm honest. Happens all the time, when I save pretty little witches from their untimely demise. Quite common for Healers actually.”

MC scoffs, crossing her legs beneath her on the bed. Her strength and personality slowly coming back to her again, with an adequate amount of blood now pumping through her veins.

“Clearly your ego hasn’t dissolved with age, Sebastian.”

Sebastian manages an easy laugh at her retort, the clipboard coming from the wall and into his hands. His mind running off with thoughts on just how long he could keep her here, at St. Mungos, under healer advisement. Keep her here with him, take away any chance for her to bolt back out of his life, give him a chance to make things right.

“Quite the opposite, really. I’m surprised I don’t fall over with how big my head is.”

MC rolls her eyes, muttering something about it’s so full of air I’m surprised you don’t float away. Her gaze falling to the clipboard in Sebastians’ hands.

“You’re not keeping me here, are you?”

Sebastian glances away from the form in his hand, and at MC’s scowling face ready for a fight. He lets out a heavy sigh as he drops the clipboard, and crosses his arms over his chest, giving her his best stern look of authority.

“You were cursed, MC, and you lost a decent amount of blood.”

The Healer should have known better than to expect MC to see logic and sense. She bristled at his words, swinging her legs from the bed with a look of determination. Sebastian half-hoped she’d wobble as she stood, then he could at least feel justified in his desire to keep her here.

No such luck. MC stood in a firm stance, and then pranced around the small room. As if to prove she was well and able to get the hell out of this place. Sebastian couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him at her antics that were bordering on playful. She continued moving around, glaring at Sebastian all the while. Though luck was back on his side, when she attempted a spin. The motion giving way to a bout of dizziness that had Sebastian catching her with a small, exasperated, laugh.

Sebastian guided her back to the bed, a look of triumph on his face as she blinked slowly, trying to steady the whirling inside of her head. He raises his arms in innocent submission when he tries to help her onto the bed, which had earned him a deadly glare.

“Habit, MC. This is my job after all.” He defends himself with a signature smirk, the corner of his mouth tilting slightly upward. MC made a sound in her throat, as she settled back on the bed, her glare unsubsiding.

“Yes, well. I still feel as though I’m alright to leave, Healer Sallow. I promise not to spin in circles like a buffoon for the foreseeable future.”

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully, doing everything he could to avoid looking at her face, each time he had since her return to the world of the living, it felt like the vice around his heart tightened further, stealing the air from his lungs. He busied himself with his clipboard, flipping the pages of parchment as if searching for something.

“Oh? No apparating? No traveling by Portkey? Going to travel like a proper muggle are you?” When his words got no snarky defense from the girl lying on the bed, he forced himself to look at her and fixed his tone back to Healer, rather than something akin to a friend. “I can’t force you to stay, MC, but I’d feel much more comfortable if you, at the very least, stuck around for just a few more hours. Until I am absolutely certain you are alright.”

MC heaved a dramatic sigh, huffing and puffing as she made a show of getting comfortable on the bed. Her eyes narrowed in his direction all the while, looking much more like a petulant child than a fearless Auror. Sebastian took her silent movements as an agreement, under the assumption this is the best he would get from the prideful girl.

“Oh come now, MC, no need to pout. Come on, sweetheart, give me a smile.” That did the trick, Sebastian thought, as he watched the fire light in her eyes once again at his words, her head whipping around to face him. Though, before she had a chance to speak or curse, Sebastian continued on. “Would you like to hear a joke? Always seems to cheer up my pouting patients, though they’re usually children… but I suppose with your current behavior you’re one and the same.”

He gave her a cheeky grin to counter her deadly glare.

This is nice, he thought to himself, Just like we’re fifteen again.

“If looks could kill…” The Healer muttered, his smile unfading. “Now, What’s a vampire's favorite ship?” He let the start of his joke hang in the air, completely aware that MC would not offer up the punchline. He delivered it with a theatrical grin and open hands. “...A blood vessel.”

MC met his joke with a loud groan, her eyes closed but the hint of an exasperated smile on her face.

“Please, Sebastian. Six years later and your jokes still suck?”

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest, six years, since they had seen one another. It had been even longer since the two of them had been anything that could be considered remotely close. He knew this, of course. The thought plaguing his brain whenever he was still, whenever he couldn’t fill it with his work, or distract himself with pretty witches he found in pubs.

It was hearing it from her mouth, in her words, that had his hands pausing from where they had been scrawling a note to send to the Alchemy lab. They trembled now, with a mix of anticipation and dread. Sebastian took a deep breath, his exhale slow, the sudden reality settling on his chest and clearing his head of anything but his need to fix this, to bring her back. He tapped the parchment with his wand, watching it fold itself up into the shape of a bird before flitting towards the door. He walked over to release it into the corridor, allowing it to continue to its destination.

Sebastian slowly shut the door, turning back around to face the girl he had been desperately and painfully missing for the better part of a decade, who was now two feet away from him with a small smile on her face, from his dreadful joke. The click of the door closing again seemed to suck all of the air out of the small room, and that smile was fading now, MC picking up on the sudden, awkward tension.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck, awkwardly. Wondering how the hell one even starts a conversation such as this. He decides that’s exactly where to start. All these years later, after all of the mistakes and avoidance and emotional immaturity, the only thing that needed to be said was the truth, and Sebastian decided that would start now.

No matter how awkward and tense the conversation may be, Sebastian was not going to give up this chance, perhaps his only chance at saying what he had been wanting to say for years. He had to do it for himself, and for the hope that still flickered in his heart for them, together.

“MC… I… I don’t even know where to start with this… with me… and you… and us.”

He clears his throat again, forcing down the growing lump of emotion that was threatening to overcome him. His gaze flicked from where he had taken a sudden interest in the stone floor, to MC, who was now white as a sheet and her chest heaving, in quick and short bursts.

Sebastian continued on, certain that her demeanor was from him, his words, and not remnants of the curse she had befallen. He pulled the chair meant for visitors of patients, and slid it close to her bedside, seating himself on it. Moving his eyesight to his sweating hands clasped in front of him, away from the girl staring at him with wide eyes.

“Suppose the best place to start is with an apology… though I don’t think there’s anything I can say or do that would even come close to proving to you how sorry I am. For how I treated you, how I let myself pull away from you… and never even tried to come back.”

He paused to swallow, to try and work something into coherency in his head. He startled when MC swung her legs off the side of the bed to face him head on, her voice seeming much louder than it was in the silent room.

“What are you talking about, Sebastian?”

Her words left him reeling with confusion, and he managed to make himself look at her, slightly above him with her position on the bed. MC’s face was concerned, laced with confusion that only served to deepen his own.

“I.. um.” Perhaps she had forgotten? Or this had only been a heartbreaking journey for him? Perhaps his last two years in school, drowning in grief had addled his brain? His recollection?

He didn’t know the answers, and his racing pulse seemed to quicken even further. Still, he had to keep trying. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let her leave again. Not without hearing everything he had always meant to say, before it had been too late. Sebastian ran his hands down his face, as if to wipe away the confusion, the anxiety and he heard her take a deep, shaking breath just as he had minutes ago.

When he removed his hands, MC was meeting his gaze. Her eyes now swimming with tears of her own. They were mirrors of one another. Hands clasped in laps, pulses racing, cheeks twinged pink, eyes filled with tears threatening to fall. The Healer was certain, if he concentrated just hard enough, he would be able to hear the sounds of their hearts pounding in the silent room.

They kept a locked gaze for a beat, before she closed her eyes, a look of anxious determination crossing her face as she did so. As if willing herself to trudge on.

Then, she touched him.

She leant forward, to curl her fingers around his shoulders, over the stains of her blood still present on his robes, as if to steady him, steady both of them. Despite the air leaving his lungs at the feeling of her hands on his body, no matter how innocent the touch, He felt his pulse evening out. The look in her eyes was full of hurt and concern, not anger or resentment.

“Have you… thought this… us… was your fault all this time? That you were solely responsible for… this?”

Her words settled in his mind, exacerbating his confusion, because of course he was. This was all his fault, just as everything that had transpired in their schooldays was his fault. The look on his face must have betrayed his thoughts because as his mouth opened, ready to spill everything. She cut him off with a laugh, an incredulous look on her face as she looked past him. Sebastian could nearly see the gears turning in her mind, he waited for her to return from whatever recesses of her mind she had retreated too before he tried speaking once again.

Once again, being cut off by the girl he knew he was still desperately in love with.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, not really anyway. I just… am baffled that you have spent the better part of ten years believing that the death of our friendship rested entirely on your shoulders.”

Sebastian was the one feeling dumbfounded. He had been the one to seal himself away from anyone who tried to show him the tiniest bit of kindness after Solomon’s death. He had been the one to disappear nearly entirely when he got word of Anne joining their Uncle in an eternal rest. It had only been Ominis that he allowed to stand by his side as he buried her beside Solomon, if only as yet another offering of remorse for his actions that brought them all to that moment.

Of course the distance between Sebastian and MC was entirely his fault. He was the one who put it there, drove a wedge between them with his grief and his guilt. When he opened his mouth to say so, to explain, to accept the responsibility his voice was soft, and sincere.

“Because it was, MC. I was the one who disappeared. Who created this distance between us, built a wall and didn’t let anyone behind it. It was all entirely my fault. You were the one always chiding me about accepting the consequences of my actions, of my choices. That’s what I’m doing. Hoping that by doing so, we can… start over.”

MC took his admission with another breathy laugh, and a roll of her eyes. It had Sebastian contemplating what he possibly could have been missing from this equation. Why was she acting as though he was innocent? As though he had done nothing to cause this rift between them? Was it Pity? The thought of the girl he had pushed away, pitying him was enough to create a pit the size of a graphorn in his stomach. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and shaking.

He steeled himself, and said the one thing he had always, viscerally, wanted to say.

“I loved you, MC. I still love you. Even when I was acting as though I couldn’t care less about you. I was in love with you. There’s a part of me that thinks that I always will be, which is why I need you to listen to me. Let me try and fix this! Because there’s also a part of me that still believes you love me too.”

His voice raised an octave, as passion flowed through him and his speech. Sebastian took another risk, taking her cold hands into his, his thumbs gently caressing the unbelievably soft skin on the backs of her hands.

“Please.”

The tears that had been building in her eyes finally fell as Sebastian stared into her face with impassioned determination. He watched as they raced down her cheeks, falling onto their clasped hands. He watched as she took another shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“No, Sebastian. It was me. I left. I could have tried harder to be there for you when… after… Well, everything. But I didn’t want to. I was sick over how much you had lost because of me. I should have listened to Ominis when he told me not to encourage you with the relic. I should have stopped you from… I should have stopped you that night in the catacombs with Solomon. I could have and I didn’t.”

She takes a beat, to breathe deeply again.

“Then, Anne. Merlin. I… I just couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to… to be around you after she. After I couldn’t save her. The guilt of everything that was my fault, and seeing how hurt you were because of it all. I just… I distanced myself from you. It was me, Sebastian. I wanted this, because I was selfish and couldn’t accept what I had done, that I had played a part in all of your pain. Because I loved you too.”

The room was silent once again. Save for the sounds of their shared labored breathing, both of them trying to catch their breath after their passionate confessions and exclamations. Both of them trying to absorb the other's words. They had lived entirely separate lives, distanced themselves from one another because they both believed themselves to be at fault. If they could have just talked to one another, all those years ago, perhaps it wouldn’t have had to be this way. Perhaps MC wouldn’t have had to face death to see Sebastian again.

Sebastian was about to shoulder more blame, tell her how he could have chased her, could have tried harder once he had crawled out of his hole of grief stricken depression. Though before he could say anything, he was smiling softly, his eyebrow quirked with mild amusement and curiosity. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

“Loved? As in past tense?”

Despite it all, that incessant hope in his heart flickered still, and he held his breath while he watched her expression soften. Her hands dropped his, and she caressed his face with gentle fingers. “Don’t think I let myself think about it too much, or for too long… because it’s painful too. But I think you know that I do, still, love you, Sebastian.”

He did know, deep, deep down, but still, he wanted to hear her say it. It had been worth it, hearing those words from her mouth had his heart feeling like it was going to burst forth from his chest. The tears of guilt and anxiety now replaced with tears of joy he had not felt in a long, long time. It felt as though the weight of the entire world was lifted from his chest, like he was breathing fresh air for the first time after months underground.

Sebastian stood up, to hold MC’s face in his hands and stare into her eyes, hoping that she could sense his sincerity.

“We were both stupid kids. Didn’t know what the hell we were doing, I’m still sorry, and I will forever blame myself for us being in this position now… but we’re not kids anymore. Do you think… Do you think we could do this? Fix this? Be together?”

He was nervous to ask, but the look in her eyes wasn’t dowsing his hope, it was igniting it. Her lips slowly curled into a smile, and her voice was soft, and as sincere as he felt.

“I’d like to try.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth when his lips were pressing against hers, his fingers moving to tangle into her hair, still caked with her own blood. Some part of Sebastian expected to feel sparks, or some dramatic swell of emotion that made him weak in the knees, but the kiss settled into his heart like he’d been dosed with a calming draught, like this is where he had always meant to be, with her lips on his.

Sebastian had been so lost in the moment, in this reconciliation with MC, he had forgotten he was at work, on shift, as a Healer. The thought had managed to weasel its way into his mind, ruining the passionate moment with MC, and it felt like he had been doused with ice water.

He pulled away with an apologetic smile, and his fingers still on her chin.

It had been just in time, as at that moment the door swung open, revealing his Trainee Healer, having returned with more vials of blood-replenishing potion he had ordered for MC. He hoped that the position they were discovered in could be seen as an innocent exam.

Sebastian managed to ignore the teasing grin MC was giving him, with her back to the Trainee. He met his fellow Healer halfway into the room and accepted the vials with a smile and a thank you before she left once again, shutting the door quietly.

When Sebastian turned back around, to set the vials onto the side table beside the bed, MC had laid herself back against the pillows, playing the role of innocent patient well.

He stood beside the bed, unable to fight his smile or the urge to caress her hair as he stood at her bedside. Sebastian tried putting himself back into the role of Healer, and not lovesick former school friend.

“My shift is up in a few hours. Will you behave and be a good patient until then? Please? We can… talk.”

MC gave him a mischievous grin, and made a show of settling herself into the bed.

“I suppose I can stick around for a few more hours. I’ll be sure to be the most needy patient you have ever had the misfortune of dealing with.”

Her teasing comment seemed to bring the oxygen back into the room, the tension dissipating instantly as he rolled his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The tender moment making his heart swell, one he had had many a daydream about.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He slid the bottles of potion across the wooden side table, and closer to MC. “I’ll be back to make sure you take these. One every half an hour until I’m certain you have an adequate amount of blood back in your body.”

MC rolled her eyes, and Sebastian returned it with a grin before moving towards the door of the exam room and slipping outside. Before he fully left the room, he peeked back inside.

“Hey MC?” Once he had her attention, he said what he wanted to say. “I’m glad you got cursed today.”

Sebastian managed to close the door with a loud laugh, and made his way down the corridor towards his next patient, before he had to endure whatever scathing retort or hex MC undoubtedly had for him.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x f!mc #GOD this is nerve wracking #i have never been so nervy to post a fic lmao #why are fic endings so damn hard #ok here it is have fun enjoy #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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honeylikewords · 1 year

Text

cubs. (jack russell)

halloween brings all the little monsters out. aka, jack gets baby fever.

(warnings: mentions of pregnancy, planning for children, allusions to sex, descriptions of physical intimacy and making out, and jack smelling his wife, if that counts. nothing technically fully n/s/f//w//, but a bit saucy. word count 2.4k )

Jack’s head tilts sideways before the doorbell even rings, one ear higher than the other to catch something she can’t hear. He turns in his seat on the couch, arm strewn over her shoulder, to look behind them in the direction of the front door, tilts over, kisses her temple, and pops up in the seconds before the slightly-jarring “ding” echoes through the house. He’s already at the door, bowl in hand, beaming down at the gaggle of children and chaperones by the time she’s even stirring on the couch to come to join him.

“Oh, who do we have here?,” Jack coos excitedly, scanning the miniature crowd. “Are you the little one from--”

“Stranger Things!,” yells a small child in a pink dress, blonde wig askew, tendrils of the plastic hair stuck to their face. “I’m Eleven!”

“Yes, sí, can you do the--” --Jack sticks his hand out and makes a face, and the child eagerly matches him, giving him their best furious expression and most powerful psychokinetic pose-- “Yes! That’s so good!”

He quickly glances up at the three adults standing behind and asks if there are any allergies in the group (and there are none, thank goodness) as his wife comes to stand next to him, smiling at the Eleven who is now turning their powers onto their group of friends. Gesturing for the kids to bring their bags closer, Jack begins dropping generous fistfuls of candy into eagerly opened pillowcases and treat sacks, small hands darting out to show off the newest snacks to one another.

“Hey there, Mirabel,” says Mrs. Russell, waving at a young girl in a blue skirt and white t-shirt, sporting a giant pair of glasses and a pink flower in her dense curls. The little one is wrapped up in a purple puffer jacket on this cold October evening, and while it is a truth universally acknowledged that a big coat is the bane of Halloween costumes, the effect of her adorable smile and ‘Encanto’ printed trick-or-treat bag is more than enough to convey the essence of the character. “Is Uncle Bruno with you tonight?”

The girl shyly shakes her head and wrings the handles of her bag in her fingers but is smiling widely when Jack speaks a few quick words of admiration for her costume in Spanish and passes her a scoop of candy for her bag.

“I’m Ariel!”, adds a small child in a green tube skirt with flared tulle flippers sewn on, a purple strip of cloth tied around their tummy over a slightly off-skin-tone longsleeve tee.

“And I’m Harry Potter!” A wand is brandished at Jack, who puts a hand over his chest in shock.

“I’m Batman!” The petite hero jumps into a pose to show off the padding of his armor, his light-up shoes kicking to life and casting green flashes over the porch.

Jack turns to his wife and grins, gesturing enthusiastically at the crowd of kids. “I think these are the best costumes we’ve seen all night, no?” She nods, and the kids all let out little shrieks and giggles as Jack procures a few extra pieces from the bowl and adds them to their bags.

The chaperones guide the straggling children into a chorus of “thank you”s before shuffling them down from the porch, past the jack o’lanterns, and on to the next house, as Jack and his wife remain in the doorway. She leans her head on his shoulder and listens to him sigh sweetly, his eyes tracing over the sunset-lit streets swarming with seas of children and their families, all screaming and laughing over one another, racing past on the sidewalks, weaving in and out of lawns decorated with tombstones and inflatable specters, plastic skeletons and felted spiders.

“You know, at the rate you hand it out, we’ll be out of candy before the street lights come on,” she teases, nudging his shoulder. Jack chuckles and puts a hand on the small of her back, shrugging as he steers her back towards the couch.

“It’s Halloween, bebé; do you want us to be known as the stingy old couple, or the cool couple that gives out extra candy to the little monsters? Besides, that Mirabel, oh my God--”

“Total heart-melter,” she agrees, sitting and cuddling into Jack’s side as he hooks his arm back over her shoulders and pulls her body close. “I think between her and that four-month-old dressed as Grogu, we may have seen the two cutest costumes in all of North America today.”

Jack lets out a groan at the memory of the adorable baby, who he had greeted at the door with a delighted peal of laughter, and squeezes his wife tightly in his arms, as if hugging her in the baby’s stead. The abrupt squish pushes a small squeak out of her, and Jack giggles, bumping the blunt tip of his long nose into her cheek.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “You okay?”

His slight frame conceals a rather intense strength, something that comforts her, even if it still sneaks up on her every now and again that he is, in fact, as strong as he is; Jack’s touch is grounding and warm when so few things in the world are, and she’s glad, especially in the cold months, for the over-active heat of his body and the power of his embrace.

He traces the tips of his broad, tan fingers along the curve of her upper arm, pale nails leaving wake trails of gooseflesh and pleasant shivers. She realizes he’s waiting for a response before going any further with his affections, and she nods, cupping the square of his chin and running her thumb along his bottom lip. When his olive green eyes fix on hers, and his lips part to reveal the brightness of his smile, crooked to the left by the jut of his snaggletooth, she feels heat wash over her face and down her body, familiar and fluttering as he dips his face close and keeps her gaze.

“You know what I’m thinking?,” Jack purrs, voice dropping low and soft as he begins inching nearer. When he’s this close, his breath falls on her skin like a warm fog, sticking sweetly to her neck and cheeks, and the scent of him gets stronger.

He smells like their bed, she thinks. Cozy, fuzzy, and tinged with a modicum of not-at-all-unappealing sweat, there is also that distinct canine note that can only be detected in this kind of proximity. His arms are still wrapped around her, and one of his hands is coasting, flat-palmed, up and down the length of her side, following the curves of her ribs and belly, while the other finds itself resting on her shoulder, idly fingering an errant lock of hair. His face is so close to hers that she swears she could count each of his eyelashes, individually, and the hairs that form his growing stubble.

This Halloween, Jack has chosen to go as a vampire, which he thinks is exceedingly funny. Dark makeup rings his eyes and the grey in his hair glows almost blue in the low light of the fading day, lending him an unearthly quality that fits his costume well. The powers of the vampire, too, seem to be his: he has her under his thrall, certainly. His smile is mesmeric, and she can imagine that if a vampire were to look like him, there would be no end to the line of people willing to be bitten by that self-same smile.

“What are you thinking, Puppy?,” she asks, trying to redirect her own wandering thoughts. She scratches lightly at the underside of his chin and, on reflex, his head tilts up, eyes fluttering shut as a contented noise rumbles in the back of his throat. He’s so easy to please.

“I’m, uh--” He seems distracted by the sensation of her scratching at that Just Right spot between the back of his ear and the crook of his jaw, a distraction that only worsens when she begins scratching the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was going to say that I… I was thinking we…”

His hands lie still on her, twitching every now and then when she finds a particularly pleasing spot to scratch, and she relishes the sensation of being the one who now has her beloved under her own thrall; Jack leans his head into her touch and follows the motion of her hands, chasing her attentions. A sigh leaves his lips and he unclenches his shoulders, melting into her as she leans back against the armrest of the couch and Jack follows, laying his head on her chest.

His weight is surprisingly heavy atop her as he lays himself on her belly, slotting between her knees and positioning himself for ease of scritching. He’s not a big man, by any means, but there’s a density to him, and she’s feeling it now as he presses her into the couch with his body.

She pauses her petting briefly as she adjusts to the new position, and her hands still in his hair, which causes a growl of displeasure to part his lips. At that, she looks down at him and sees one green eye peering up at her (the other still shut and squished into her chest), and sticks her tongue out at him before continuing the strokes to his salt-and-pepper pelt.

It’s rather soothing, playing with his hair like this. There’s a therapeutic element to the combination of his body weight, intense warmth, rhythmic breathing, and the texture of his hair under her fingers, and she lets instinct carry her, as salient thought drifts away into the blissful mist of repetitive motion and familiar feelings. She traces the lines of his scalp, watching his black and grey and still, sometimes, brown hair forest up around her fingers, content to just match the tide of his breaths with her own, their ribs pressed together and expanding in synchronicity.

After a moment, Jack stirs. Turning, he cranes his face so that he can look at her squarely, and she feels the irresistible magnetism of that green gaze tugging her deeper into his spell.

“I want to try for one of our own,” he says, shattering the stillness like a foul ball through plate glass. “Tonight, if you’re ready.”

It takes her a second to blink away the haze that had settled around her head, and when she does at last manage to, she finds herself staring down into Jack’s face, taking him in with utmost fascination. If she heard him clearly, and she believes she did, he asked her--

“A baby, by the way. In case I wasn’t clear.” He flashes her a smile and a breathy laugh, and he pats her side playfully. “I’m sure you could figure that out, amorcita, but I like to be direct.”

“Oh.”

It’s all she can think to say: not because she is unhappy, or undesiring of the same things, but simply because the effect of Jack Russell, staring up at her with his big, moss-colored puppy eyes, brazenly stating that he wants to try and conceive with her, is flooring. He pushes up on his forearms, and suddenly he is above her, his face lit starkly by the shadows of the setting sun and the television, marking him out in black and white. His eyes glow, even in the darkness.

The wolf’s smile slips into his features as he stares down at her, watching her reactions with delight. He can hear her heartbeat, she knows, smells the minute shifts that not even she is aware of. He knows her, inside and out, and surely knows which way she is swayed, but he waits patiently for her to give him a sign, a command, an enthusiastic yes or a firm no. He won’t move without her urging.

She cups his face and lets out a shaky, excited breath, one that shivers in her sternum and makes Jack grin. There’s that crooked canine of his, sharply glinting in his smile, and she trembles joyfully at the sight, wondering if their child would have their father’s snaggletooth. She hopes they do.

“Tonight,” she repeats. Jack’s eyes widen.

Gently, she tugs him down and presses his pouty lips to hers, and the dam breaks. Jack lets out an inhuman groan of delight, dropping his center of gravity low to lean into the kiss, and uses his blunt incisors to pull at her bottom lip, nipping and sending the wet, lapping sounds of kissing echoing through the room. He uses one hand to hold her jaw in place, then begins trailing kisses down and around her chin, working his way to her throat.

“Look so pretty in your costume,” he rasps, voice low and clouded. “‘S hard for a man to keep his hands to himself.”

Before she can snidely remark that he, in fact, has not been keeping his hands to himself for almost the entirety of the evening, Jack sinks his teeth into her neck: not hard enough to wound her, but certainly hard enough to make her forget every other thought, her mind now focused completely on the reality that her husband is leaving marks all across her throat.

“You smell,” Jack groans, “So good. And, oh, God, when you have our cubs…”

He pushes his face into the crook of her neck and inhales, a series of Spanish and English curses flowing from his lips as they wander across her skin, and his hands begin rucking up the bottom of her blouse when--

“DING.”

Jack’s head whips up, and the two of them stare with wide eyes at one another. His face is flushed a deep umber and his lips are shiny, hair a fluffed mess, and she can only imagine she looks even more sordid and knocked askew. They exchange a communicative glance before the doorbell rings a second time and Jack, ever the gentleman, kisses her forehead, rapidly apologizing.

“We’ll get back to this, querida, I promise, I swear, I want to--”

She waves him off with a smile, and sees him bolt for the door, candy bowl in hand. He throws it open with gusto, and as she watches, she sees the transformation come over him; the brightness in his eyes, the giddiness of his smile, the sincerity of his sweetness. He’s going to make a magnificent father. And she’s going to have a very, very happy Halloween.

#werewolf by night #jack russell #jack russell x reader #wwbn #wbn #marvel #(i also see people spell his name as:)#jack russel #jack russel x reader #i cant believe it a FIC and it's a slightly RISQUE one! (this is not permission for people to send me n...s....f.......w by the way)#i just am like. in a weird state and i thought married!jack and his spouse getting to do fun halloween kissing and having baby fever would #be cute and nice ghdkhgkalhgdkhg #original #it's a little short for me (i usually like to go about 5k or more?) but this is just a Test Run #if you guys want more jack lmk and i'll hopefully be doing other jack stuff for myself so :3 anyway its 3 am now gnight

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harmonictechnicality · 9 months

Text

The List

(for @steddiemicrofic’s July prompt)

prompt word: pool | wc: 442 | rating: T (cw for suggestive language and minor sacrilegious-ness maybe??)

Steve knows his ‘Make Out Locations’ bucket list is lame. Also knows how much it riles Eddie up (not that it takes very much to rile him up).

“Not again,” Eddie groans into Steve’s mouth. He reaches for the paper, gnashing their teeth enough to cause permanent dental damage.

“Why do you hate it so much?” Steve knows the answer. It’s scribbled between the wrinkles on Eddie’s forehead.

“Cause I know what it’ll say.”

“Do you?”

Eddie hums. “It’ll say you’ve already made out here before. Just like everywhere else in the purgatorial Midwest.”

“Really?”

“Probably with someone named Bimbo VonBreasty.”

Steve snorts at that one. Jealousy laced behind a joke. Eddie’s specialty. “Ah, yes. The VonBreasty’s and I go way back.”

The mood melts again. They ease back into where they left off, tongues tracing lips. Palms pressing hard into each other's necks.

Eddie dips away for a second. “One of these days, I’m gonna find a spot where you haven’t sucked someone’s lips blue.”

It’s a comical idea. Comical, but impossible. Still, Steve is always up for a good laugh.

“Would love to see you try, Munson.”

They drive in Eddie’s van for a few miles. Steve is blindfolded, which should be alarming. Maybe kinky. But this is Eddie, so if anything, it’s for Dramatic Flare.

“It’s cheating if we drive outside of Hawkins.” Steve argues as they exit the van.

“Good thing I only play fair.” Eddie slips behind him, untying the knotted blindfold.

Steve blinks, takes in the open space. Deep and echoey, like a basketball court. Except much more ornate.

“Step down.” Eddie directs.

The scent of stale incense hits Steve’s nose as he takes another step. This time, he shivers at the sensation. The realization:

Water. Shallow water all around his shins.

“Is this the church on Main Street?”

“Not just the church on Main Street.” Eddie replies. “The baptism pool in the church on Main Street.”

Everything is louder here, rippling for ages against the reverb. Steve is so aware of every sound he makes, every movement reflected in the water.

“Hey.” Eddie knocks his knuckles over Steve’s wrist. Loosely catches his fingers. “Never kissed anyone here, have you?”

Steve shakes his head, rethinks his outlook on impossibilities. He wades in closer, keeping their hands connected. “Should we rectify that?”

Eddie nods into the kiss. They rarely kiss this softly, all warm lips and leisure speed. Every breath shared, gentle waves luring them chest to chest.

The list in Steve’s pocket is probably shriveled up, withering away. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Not in this moment.

Anyone before Eddie is just ink on a page.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiemicroficjuly #can y’all believe this was double the wc an hour ago??#and I somehow chiseled away 400 words??#because I can’t #I also can’t believe I didn’t drop a single f bomb #be proud okay 🥹#anyways this was so much fun thank you for hosting it!! 💕

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pastaxandria · 6 months

Text

The Red Thread: Chapter 157

The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its shelves: Chapter 157 of The Red Thread.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

“Can I make a suggestion?” Foggy’s voice came out strangled and choked. “Like, just a-a little one?” “No. You can shut the fuck up and let her talk.” Your eyes darted right and then left, your gaze leaping from the trash can to the fridge and then up to the dividing wall it sat against. Karen narrowed her eyes, pointedly taking one step further into the kitchen. “Stop trying to figure out if you can escape by climbing the furniture.” “I wasn’t,” you said defensively. Lie.

Wordcount: 7.4k

Warnings for this chapter: some sexual innuendo but other than that, you're good!

Read me on AO3 because that’s where penguins hang out

#the red thread #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil x f!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #fanfic #fic #reader #reader insert #x reader #i had fun with this one #everyone get in karen's going to interrogate jane #and jane's going to throw every tactic including the kitchen sink in karen's path like karen's a bulldozer she's trying to stop #crunch crunch crunch oh no karen ran it over

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fluffypandabun · 6 months

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Omg more lee Casey PLS

Alright anon :3, have some drabble as a treat :3

Casey was the best ninja, the sneakiest and quietest of all ninjas, aside from his Sensei of course, but Casey was a close second.

He creeped quietly down the hall, sticking close to the wall and in the shadows just as his Sensei had taught him. He reached the end of it and peered sneakily through the crack of the door, his Uncle Tello was still at his desk as he always was, back to the door and furiously typing on his many, many keyboards.

Casey carefully opened the door wide enough for him to slip through before pausing to see if the turtle had noticed him, he hadn't and Casey bit his lip to stop from giggling as he stepped through the door and into the room.

He stayed crouched, almost crawling, making his way further into the dimly lit room. As he got closer to his uncle's chair he slowly raised himself back up onto two legs, stretching his body up he made his hands into claws taking in a deep breath-

There was a whir of metal retracting and faster than Casey could even yelp he was being picked up by small metal hands and dangled upside down in front of his uncle's unamused face.

The boy offered a half grin, giggling nervously.

"Hehe, Hi Uncle Tello...."

The mutant narrowed his eyes, tattooed on eyebrows furrowing and giving him an even more unamused expression.

"Casey Jr."

The two stared each other down for a moment before Casey squirmed a bit in the metal arms hold, causing him to swing back and forth slightly.

"Right so, I think I'll be on my way now-

"Yeah no not happening."

Before he could even protest, Casey was being dropped into his uncle's lap. Two large three fingered hands grabbed onto his sides and rapidly squeezed up and down them, prompting the boy to squeal loudly and burst into loud giggles.

"You come into my lab, and prevent me from doing my work and expect to leave without consequences? For shame Casey." Donetello droned, his voice conveying indifference to the squirmy laughing child in his lap though the fondness in his eyes gave him away.

"Now," He continued, turning back to his screen, "Where was I...?" "Uncle Tello!" Casey squealed when the mutant's fingers wiggled their way up to his armpits.

"Casey Jr." Donetello responded, glancing down at him, "Can't you see I'm trying to work? Did we not teach you any better then to bother us when were working?"

Tiny hands pushed to no avail against larger green ones. "Your tihihickling meheheheh!" Donetello raised an eyebrow. "Tickling you? Me? Oh I would never." the turtle rolled his eyes, voice laced with sarcasm. Though when Casey let out a squeak of a hiccup he couldn't keep the slight smile off his face.

"Uncle Tehehellohohoho!" Casey giggled, smacking at muscled arms as his hands suddenly skittered back down to tweak gently at his ribs.

"Sigh, I guess if you really require my attention so badly you may have it" Donnie grinned, he shifted the boy in his arms to better secure him before he made his free hand into a claw, bringing it down onto the boy's small stomach and shaking it. Practically shaking the boy's whole body alongside it.

Casey shrieked before bursting into bright childish belly laughter, curling up around the turtle's hand.

"Ehehehehe! Nohohohoho!"

Donnie raised a brow. "No? Now you don't want my attention? You need to make up your mind Casey."

Casey kicked out his legs, trying desperately to roll over onto his side. "Your behehehing mehehehean!" "Me? Mean? Scoff! I'll have you know that I'm the fun uncle, I mean just listen to how much fun your having right now."

He used the boy's new position to skitter his fingers up his spine to the back of his neck, causing him to scrunch up and squeal.

Donnie allowed his fingers to poke a prod for a few moments longer before he let up, allowing the boy to rest in his lap as he caught his breath. As his lingering giggles resided Donnie gave him a look.

"Now, what have we learned about sneaking up on Uncle Tello?"

Casey giggled a bit before answering. "To not get caught next time."

Donnie gave him an annoyed look at he poked him in the side. "You've been spending too much time with that Sensei of yours."

Casey giggled and pushed the turtle's hand away, settling back to lean against his chest, tilting back his head to grin up at him.

"I mean it! Next time I won't get caught."

Donnie glanced down at him and patted his head. "Uh huh, I'm sure you won't." He wheeled himself back over closer to his desk.

"Now if you promise to be quiet I'll let you stay with me while I work."

The boy's eyes immediately lit up."Will you let me use the soldering iron again?" "Ha!......Only if you don't tell Mikey."

#pandabuns post #pandabuns fic #pandabun asks #pandabun requests #rottmnt tickles #rottmnt tickle fic #ticklish! casey #U can tell i have a soft spot for Uncle F!Donnie lol #This was fun to write for >:3

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unrulyknight · 9 months

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dyre ode for fattpinup week's final prompt: divinity/challenge mode

i was gonna make this a fun little gif and then. thought for a couple says about it and realized that would make me a style of evil that would not be fun. so. its done! posting now. might circle back once i know how to make gifs

#unrulyknightsart #artistic nudity #friends at the table #f@tt #sangfielle #dyre ode #fattpinups #illustration #the challenge mode was making up dyres face and also doing a relatively accurate skeleton #anyway this was fun. learned a lot about bones. we're chilling #its fine to be late with a prompt bc i wouldnt have enjoyed this Nearly as much with a rush #image description in alt #i said this on chost but the guan is a bit of a shout out to the sun motifs @/rozecrest gave them in their secsam fic from this year

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

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you make loving fun. | masterlist

pairing: francisco “frankie” morales x ofc (camila garcia)

abstract: “We didn’t necessarily do things the proper way–Will would say we actually did them backwards, which I think is just partially true, I’m not giving you the satisfaction, Miller. You see, when I first met Frankie we didn’t say a single word to each other for exactly three minutes and thirty-four seconds–and I know that, because that’s the exact duration of You Make Loving Fun. Technically, the first thing I said to him was Sweet wonderful you, and after all this time I still stand by those words. We could’ve done things in order, we could’ve done everything scrambled through whatever amount of time, but the result would still be the same–Francisco, my sweet wonderful you, you really do make loving fun.”

a/n: this was born as a companion piece to one of @lcvenderblues ideas and then it became a beast of its own and, in true me fashion, turned from a one shot to a way longer story. i’ve always wanted to write something inspired by fleetwood mac and i know my boy frankie listens to them religiously–also seeing camila morrone in 70s clothing inspired me furthermore. so there you have it

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

content warnings will be given for each chapter, the story is 18+ (mdni). chapters marked with * contain smut.

1. you make loving fun*

2. landslide

3. everywhere

4. crystal*

5. songbird

6. need your love so bad.

7. as long as you follow.*

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imacelestialbeing · 16 days

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m27 spoilers

ngl i ship kaishin both romanticly and platonically. they are absolutely hilarious together and would be a menace to society either way. and i love that for them. did i always think that it would be hilarious if they were cousins? yes am i surprised that they are cousins? no am i disappointed in how they went about it? yes. am i surprised? no

detco has been running way too long. if it was like doremon or shin-chan it would make sense to keep it going for so long but it's not. I have been thinking for a while that gosho is gonna ruin it by stretching it out so much. hell, he already has at so many points. Detco has many plot holes. the timeline itself is a Jupiter-sized plot hole. I am guessing they are at this point trying to close some of the plot points and hence the "Kaishin are cousins". like that man is trying to make us believe he had everything planned out from the beginning and trying to tie a neat little bow on everything. which is a big fat lie. he is ruining some of the better parts of his own writing. (kudos and kurobas, the rivalry. frenemies) I know most at least half of us were aware that Kaishin could very well be cousins. it's not like 100% outta the left field. maybe like 80%. there were a few vague hints over the last few years that could go either way. not to mention gosho's tendency over incest couples. but we all ignored that cuz its been 3 decades. like come on dude. Gosho has been hovering over the fence over kaishin over the last few years (pretty sure that's when he thought about it). he couldn't make a decision and now they are shoving it down our throat. so much poor planning. smh.

people losing it over them being cousins in kinda fun

and if you hate kaishin, that's your prerogative but please don't make others feel bad about it.

#f gosho's poor planing #the only good thing is that there might be more platonic kaishin fics now #i always thought we could use more #kaishin cousins has lots of crack potential #detco #m27 spoilers #kaishin #dcmk #gosho get to the fking point of the story already #stop ruining it for everyone #yes the fillers can be fun but you are ruining it

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fourteenfifteen · 1 month

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cliffs

G // 1.4k // friends at the table: palisade

Sometimes Brnine felt like there was something under the surface, and sometimes they felt like they were imagining it. Sometimes, just before Jesset let a real topic drop, Brnine had the sinking feeling that he was about to say something they couldn’t ignore. Like they could only put off things for so long. And it was easy to imagine either one of them dying. They both… well, neither one of them was in the habit of steering away from cliffs these days. (after pld42, brnine and jesset talk about it.)

read now on ao3

#fatt #palisade #palisade spoilers #kalvin brnine #jesset city #friends at the table #f@tt #fatt fanfic #this is the first fic i've finished in almost two months feels really good #i love them i do. brnine you have problems #hen fic #these two are both really enjoyable to write #i would love to do some weird elaborate au with gucci/brnine/jesset v polyamory #would be super fun. anyways here's this for now #‘nooo girl don’t kill yourself you’re so sexy aha’ - jesset and brnine at each other

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thornsnvultures · 2 years

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natasha romanoff x f!reader 18+

1.8k words, domestic fluff, smut, oral, top!reader, breast worship, pussy slapping, tw food mention, tw scars

You're vegged out on the couch in the living room when Natasha comes home. She's not surprised to see you there, work's been kicking your ass lately and you've taken to disassociating to the sounds of Great British Bake Off as stress relief.

"I'm home!"

"Howdy."

She chuckles and shakes her head at your lackluster greeting. "I picked up garlic bread from the store, thought we could do pasta tonight."

"Sounds good."

Nat preheats the oven and walks over to where you're sprawled out, garlic bread still in hand. You're in just an over-sized tshirt and sleep shorts, long legs exposed and begging to be touched.

She pokes your leg with the bagged bread instead. "You alright, sunshine?"

"Hmm?" It takes a second for you to register what she's asking and you have the decency to look sheepish when it does. "Sorry, Nat, it was a rough one today." You sit up and crawl up the couch until you're face to face with her. She cups your cheek, her worried eyes take in the bags under yours. Your stupid boss has been working you too hard, pushing you to exhaustion and Natasha doesn't like it one bit. If she had it her way she would've had a less than cordial meeting with the old creep by now, made it known you were dating a deadly assassin and weren't to be fucked with. But you refused, you said you could handle it.

"Don't apologize for having a bad day, angel."

"Yeah, but you're out there kicking ass and saving people and I'm, what, sad that I have to sit in a meeting for an hour longer than I wanted to?"

You pout into your lover's hand, and let your eyes drift shut. Nat coos at her sweet, tired angel, pulling you close so she can press a kiss to your forehead.

"Just because you didn't maim anyone today doesn't mean you didn't have a hard day."

You giggle and wrap your arms around her trim waist. "How do you know I didn't maim anyone? I have great maim potential sitting just under the surface, ready to strike."

Nat leans back to look at you and cackles. "Sure ya do, killer."

You pout even harder now as your girlfriend wiggles out of your grasp and heads back to the kitchen to start dinner. It's late for both of you, but a routine that neither of you can skip. Eating together, watching mundane TV shows, feeling normal and domestic in a way neither of you thought you could. It was important, no matter the time of day.

So you stand behind Natasha at the stove, wrapped around her back like a sleepy koala bear on a tree, as she stirs noodles in a pot. You tell her all about your day and she shares as much as she can of hers that isn't classified information. You trace the scars that litter her shoulders with your lips and she bats your hand away from the sauce pan so you don't burn yourself. Again.

The oven dings when the garlic bread is done and the two of you eat in companionable silence, taking precious moments to simply exist in each other's space.

When you're done you fight Natasha to leave the dishes for tomorrow.

"I need cuddles. You better put down that scrub brush, I swear to God."

So you resume your position on the couch. Sprawled out with an arm over your head, your toes touching the opposite end and a cat-like Natasha curled up mostly on top of you.

She has such a presence, a dominating, commanding force of a woman when she's out there in the world. But here in your little one bedroom, in the space your arms make for her, she shrinks, like a porcupine lowering its spikes.

The tv plays in the background but neither of you are paying attention. Your right hand rests behind your head while your left runs a steady course up and down her back, soothing in a figure eight that you know she likes. Her hands find their way under the hem of your shirt, grazing your tummy in a soft, tickling touch that makes you shudder and huff an indignant laugh.

"Don't you dare."

"I didn't," she protests into your neck. "They're about to judge the last cakes. I'm not distracting you, am I?"

"Brat," you chuckle and kiss her head where it's laying on your chest. The two of you lay all snuggled up until you start to fall asleep, gentle snores blowing through the red curls by your cheek.

"Nope. No falling asleep on the couch, too uncomfortable."

You whine and wrap your arms tight around Natasha, rolling until she's under you. She shouts like she's hasn't been trained how to overpower someone doing what you're doing fifty times over. No, she loves letting you crush her and you love feeling her under you.

With a hand on her cheek you lean in slowly, your gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips where her tongue darts out to wet them.

"Do you want me to take you to bed?"

Her eyes flutter shut and she nods her head. It's been a long day, but those words light a fire in you both.

You press a kiss to her forehead and climb off the couch, pulling her up with you by the hand as you go.

She protests when you push her into the bathroom to shower, but you know she needs it. Some time to herself to wash off the day, to unpack and make peace. That and the unscented soap at the compound just isn't the same as your lavender vanilla body scrub. It settles you too, smelling you on her like that. Mixing with the scent of her shampoo and something distinctly...Nat.

You're ready for bed when she comes back out. The shower was short this time and you know why when she doesn't bother to put her pajamas on, or even fully dry off.

You watch from the end of the bed as she drops her towel. Rivulets of water run from her collarbone and down her chest as she walks toward you.

To anyone else she would look fierce, like a lioness stalking her prey, confident and lithe in her movements. And she does look stunning, your breath catching as your eyes meet when she moves to stand between your spread thighs. But you see her. You can see the hesitation in those pretty green eyes that search yours from under thick lashes.

It's still there. The fear that she's not worthy of your time, your love. That she's too broken to be what you need.

You'll spend the rest of your life showing her that's a lie if she'll let you.

Her hands run the length of your thighs, pushing up the hem of your sleepshirt as you hold her face in your hands.

"So beautiful." You capture her mouth with yours, hungry and desperate to feel her against you.

Your hands caress her jaw before moving lower, grazing her shoulders, brushing away whatever laid heaviest there, before sliding further down to her breasts.

Natasha gasps into your mouth as you pluck and pull at her nipples, tugging on a line that runs straight to her core.

"Please," she groans against your lips.

"Please, what?" You tug harder on her nipple until she gasps and whines, pouting that you're making her use her words.

"Need you. Please. Touch me."

Her skin is soft and dewy against your lips when you wrap your lips around her breast. The sweet taste makes your eyelids flutter shut and you groan around your mouthful.

"Oh, fuck," she cries out and pulls at your hair as you lick and suck at her breast.

"Taste so good, baby. So perfect. Perfect fucking tits."

Her head falls back, mouth open and breathing heavy as her wet red hair tumbles down between her shoulder blades.

Your hands palm her ass cheeks, tugging her closer, squeezing the plump mounds between your fingers.

"Yes, baby, please," she moans when her exposed folds rub up against the cotton of your panties. You can feel how wet she is through the thin fabric.

"What do you want, baby? Want me to make you feel good?"

She looks down at you, at where you've been busy sucking new bruises into her skin. Doing your best to mark her as yours.

"Fuck yes. Make me feel good, baby."

She squeals when you grab her hips and throw her down on the bed. You know your grin is positively wolfish as you climb over her, tugging off your sleep shirt. Natasha's eyes fall to your breasts as she scoots back on the mattress, her mouth open and practically panting as her gaze skims your nearly bare body.

"Like whatcha see?"

"You know it, baby."

You laugh and fall to your stomach between her legs. Her thighs are creamy and soft and spread for you so beautifully.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy." You kiss down the inside of her thighs, nipping and sucking little love bites into her soft skin.

She inhales sharply when you ghost over where she needs you most to press kisses to her soft tummy. The scars there hold so much of her shame, the most uncomfortable parts of her past. It's a blessing, a gift, for her to show those parts of herself to you. And you treat them as such, every scar, every mark getting its own soft, loving kiss.

Her hips twist under your steady hands, trying to push you towards her center.

"Alright, alright," you laugh and nip at her hip, kissing your way down to her mound.

"You can spend all day down there another time, you sap. I wanna come all over your- ahh!"

Natasha cries out as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck.

"Oh fuck, baby. That's it."

You run your hands down her thighs to get knees and push them up to her chest, keeping your mouth on her pussy, licking and nibbling at that sensitive bud.

"Open up for me. Lemme see."

Nat gasps, her nails digging into her thighs as you spread her lips open with your thumbs and fuck her right hole with your tongue. She's so fucking tight, clenching around the muscle as you lick into her.

"Tight, creamy little pussy. This is my pussy. Right, baby? Say it."

You slap your hand down on her messy cunt.

"Yes! Yes, baby, it's yours. Your pussy. Fuck!"

Satisfied, you dive back in, licking and sucking at her lips, her clit until her legs are shaking around your head.

"I'm gonna come, fuck I'm gonna-"

You pull back and slap her pussy again and again.

"Ahh!"

"Come for me, then. Fucking come."

Natasha screams and comes when you shove your tongue deep in her pussy. Her juices spill over your tongue and you lap up all of it, as much as you can.

"C'mere."

Nat pulls you up by your chin and licks you clean, your chin, your cheeks. She kisses you, moaning into your mouth at your combined flavor.

"Good?" She nods her head, practically purring. "Want more?"

"Oh god, you're gonna be the death of me."

#lmk if you want more domestic natxreader #this was fun #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fan fiction #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff headcannon #black widow x f!reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x f!reader #black widow fan fiction #black widow smut #black widow one shot #black widow headcannon #black widow fluff #my fics #i wanna write more domestic nat 🥺

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