the main reason decent people in fandoms post their work on ao3 is because it’s the best site for fanfiction tbh. everything else pretty much sucks for fanfiction, even tumblr.
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19 - Red
“John,” Mrs. Hudson said. “You want her here? After all she’s done?”
“I don’t…” John started, eyes darting back to the door before dropping his voice to a whisper. “I mean. I won’t have her on the street. Besides, she wants to see Rosie, to get to know her daughter again, and that’s only fair I let her do that. It’s only fair.” There was a slight question to John’s words, as if he was looking for confirmation that it was, in fact, fair. Sherlock, however, was not the person to ask, as he was of the opinion that not a bloody bit of this was fair.
“But…” Mrs. Hudson said. “To have her here.With...you?”
“I…” John waved his hands about senselessly. “I don’t know what else to do. She’s my wife. She’s Rosie’s mother. I can’t just shove her out on the street. I can’t just… I have to…”
“But after all she’s done?” Mrs. Hudson asked.
“I know,” John said, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “I know. And I’m… I’m still pissed off at her for all that. Her being here doesn’t change that. But I just… I can’t be an arsehole about this. I’ve got Rosie to think about.” He rubbed at his temples. “I promise Mary won’t get in the way. She’ll be quiet and she’ll tidy up and she knows not to touch any of your experiments, Sherlock, and it won’t be forever. I promise that this is just for the short-term. Just until...” John waved his hands again, meaningless.
Right, Sherlock thought, catching the meaning all the same. It would only be until the three of them—John and Mary and Rosie—found a place of their own, somewhere away from Baker Street.
Mrs. Hudson turned to Sherlock, placing a hand on his knee. “Sherlock?” she asked. Tell him, her eyes seemed to say.
Sherlock kept his gaze firmly on his lap. “If John wishes for his wife to stay at Baker Street,” he said, “then she will stay at Baker Street.” He lifted his eyes, finally meeting John’s gaze. “Whatever you want, John. Always.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hudson said, “Sherlock.”
John held Sherlock’s gaze. John’s eyes were wide and red, sadness glistening against sea-colored irises. There was something pained in John’s expression, something that Sherlock had a feeling was very much reflected in his own expression at the moment. There might have been something communicated just then, some shared understanding of heart-rending misery between the both of them, were they ever to speak the same language.
“Thank you,” John said. His voice was choked, barely a whisper.
Sherlock nodded. He cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “And now,” he said, doing his best to make his voice as close to normal as he could. “I must go see Lestrade about a case.”
“A case?” John asked.
“Indeed,” Sherlock said, striding towards the door. “Very urgent matter. Needs my attention at once. Might be gone for a while. Don’t wait up. Any of you.”
“Is it more stranglings?” John asked.
But Sherlock was already out the door.
Previous - Start from the beginning
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@gingerbread-rus @dissolvinggirl @br00klynn2428 @the-reading-lemon @andbreathenormally @mintyminho @frickfrackoversizedtictac @trauzlly @minnesotacryptid @qrsshipper @coltinthecave @dinner--starving @2smach @sherlockwatsons @glows-n-the-dark @calaisreno @demonicangeling @ohlooktheresabee @unadulteratedflowertoadherring @astudyinconsultingdetective @whodwantmeasaflatmate @peanitbear, @youknowyougrow, @flightofthelunamoths, @shazzykins @timberva,
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First Time: Beelzebub
(Beta read by my sister @neokogirl❤)
Both you and Beelzebub have been developing this relationship from almost the get-go of your time down in the Devildom. He was one of your first pacts amongst the brothers, and also one of the firsts to become a good friend, that soon led into more. You shared your first kiss together one night after he returned home victorious from a game of Fangol, and it slowly began to build from there.
A heavy makeout session in the hallway of RAD, away from the prying eyes of his older brothers, heavy petting and kissing when he walked you back to your room after a movie night. He wanted so badly to touch you and hold you whenever you gave him the chance, and he made that bluntly known to you with his words.
But he never pushed for you to do more than you were comfortable with. He never tried to touch you inappropriately unless you led his hand first, he never pulled you in more unless you showed with your own body you wanted him to. He didn’t even know you hadn’t been with anyone before him until you admitted it to him one night when it almost got to that point.
That night...being tonight.
You were settled in his lap as the two of you were cuddling in your room of the House of Lamentation, watching a load of movies together while chowing down on snacks. His hands were settled on your lap as you were happily feeding him popcorn, exchanging kisses between each bite you gave him. One kiss got particularly deep as he continues to kiss you, his hands moving from your lap to your stomach, pulling you a bit closer as you wiggled in his lap.
You let out a soft groan when he bit down on your lip, letting your mouth open to accept his tongue, tasting of salt from the snacks you two shared. You pulled away only to turn to face him in his lap, arms snaking around his neck as one hand buried in his orange hair, the other resting on his shoulder to hold him close.
His hands worked their way around your back and down to your bottom, holding you tight as you seemed to be rolling your hips against him suggestive.
"(Y/N)...do you want to have sex with me?"
Ever the blunt demon, his words caught you off guard, and it just came tumbling out that you had never been with anyone before. You were worried you would disappoint him, but he just shook his head.
"As long as it's you who I am with, it doesn't matter how bad or good it is. I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."
You flushed at his words and gave him a nod, leaning in to kiss him more as he made to move you to lay underneath him on the bed. He kissed you deeply several times before pulling away to have you shift a bit to remove your shirt, tossing the garment across the room once off. He took off his own jacket and shirt as well, revealing his chiseled chest to you, making you stare in awe of him for a moment.
This time you pressed forward to kiss him, pulling him down on top of you so you were chest to chest, taking in his heat. He pulled away from the heated kissing to trail some down your throat, nipping the sensitive skin there until he stopped at your chest, giving your nipple a generous lick. Your back bowed at the sensation and he repeated the motion with the other nipple, enjoying the little sounds escaping you as he did so.
He played with your chest a bit more, leaving marks along your rib cage as he went further down, nipping the skin right above the hem of your jeans. He popped the button and undid the zipper quickly, looking up at you for permission to remove them.
You lifted your hips to allow him to pull the clothing off you, also tossing them to the side as he nestled between your thighs, taking in your sex for the first time. His mouth seemed to water as he leaned in, lapping at you a bit before finding your entrance with his tongue.
The sensation was new and strange, and you pulled away for a moment. "Beel that's - that's too fast, wait!"
"Sorry," he mumbled, pulling away, "you just taste so good, I couldn't help it."
You covered your face with your hands out of embarrassment for a moment, before opening your legs once more for him.
"Just...please go slow."
He nodded and leaned back down, taking slow licks at your sex as his fingers rolled against your entrance. He placed said fingers in his mouth to coat them in saliva, pressing them to your entrance once more. He drew small circles, trying to get you to relax into the feeling, before finally pressing them in.
"Let me stretch you, okay? I'm, ugh, rather big, from what I've been told. I want you to be comfortable and not get hurt."
His forwardness always threw you for a loop, and the mentioning of him being rather 'big' made you look towards the tent in his own jeans. He wasn't lying from the look of it.
One finger slipped into you with ease and the sensation was so foreign but not unlikable, so you tried your best to relax and allow him to work in a second finger. He scissored his fingers to work you open, and once he placed in a third one, you were beginning to feel the best sensation you had ever felt in your life. The full feeling of his thick fingers was wonderful and you began to roll your hips back against him.
He pressed them in deeper, stretching you further and it began to sting again. He needed to truly prepare you because he didn't want to risk tearing your skin or hurting you in any way. When you began to ease back down on them, he knew you were finally ready for him.
He removed his fingers from you and sat back on his haunches, undoing the front of his jeans to free his aching cock. He gave himself a few pumps as you watched, taking him in, before nestling between your legs once more. His tip pressed against your sex a few times before he found your entrance, and began to push in.
The stretch burned at first and you tensed, the pain making you pull away. He eased you with a gentle hand on your side, trying to get you to relax your muscles and talked you through the process. The more you took in of his cock the more the stretch hurt, but once he was completely inside you, he stayed stock still, allowing you to fully adjust to his girth.
"Easy, (Y/N). I promise it will feel good."
You swallowed visibly but nodded, letting yours rut against him a little to get used to being so full. Soon the pain began to pulse into pleasure, and his tip seemed to kiss this one spot inside that made you see stars behind your eyelids.
"T-There Beel...it feels so good right there."
"I'm going to move now, alright?"
He brought a hand up to cup your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you deeply, and you nodded, kissing him back fully.
He pulled from you a bit only to press right back in, finding that spot with his tip over and over. It felt amazing being beneath his weight and having his heavy cock deep inside you; you had a feeling you could get addicted to the sensation of it all.
Your arms came to wrap around his broad shoulders, holding him close as he picked up his tempo, his rutting becoming full and long thrusts as he pounded into you. He whispered your name over and over by your ear as you felt amazing around his cock, his eyes slamming shut as he fucked you harder and harder.
Your vision began to tunnel as a different feeling began to take hold of you, your limbs tingling and a coil building in your belly suddenly. It wound tighter and tighter with each of his thrusts, and soon it hit a crescendo that made your eyes slam shut and your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders. His name tumbled from your lips over and over, walls clamping down on his cock and pulling him in deeply.
"I'm cumming too, (Y/N)," he growled by your ear, pumping into you a few more times before pulling from you, giving his cock a few pumps with his hand and cumming in long lines along your stomach and abdomen.
You both stayed still for a few moments, his arms holding him above you so he didn't collapse and crush you. When finally sated, he used his shirt to clean you up and then plopped down behind you, pulling you into a tight hold with your back to his chest.
"Mmm, mine," he mumbled happily, nuzzling into the nape of your neck. "Thank you for letting me have you like that MC."
You giggled at the tickle of his hair against your ear and turned in his arms to give him a big kiss, your hands burying in his messy hair.
"Thank you for giving me a night I will never forget."
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“they make me so happy” i say about my ships while sobbing at 3am over a fic
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Fragile Human - Lucifer
Part 2 of fragile humans with Lucifer taking care of you. In this series one of the brothers cares for you as you recover from an unknown illness.
Genre: Fluffy fluff :)
Warnings: Reader is gender neutral
Part 2 (Lucifer):
“Alright, I shall be the one to stay with you,” Lucifer declared. He peered at his brothers and regarded their disappointed expressions. He paid them no mind as he pulled out his phone. He quickly messaged Diavolo to inform him that he wouldn’t be able to attend classes since he had an ill human on his hands.
He shooed his brothers away from you and ushered them out the door. “You’ll all be late, I will not tolerate any of you nuisances skipping classes,” He snarled, his angry expression motivating his brothers to rush out the door.
After the brothers had left he helped you to stand and gave you a concerned look. He stood still for a moment, contemplating how he was going to help you get better.
“It’s best that you rest MC, let's get you to bed,” Lucifer guided you by the arm gently down the hall. It was during this moment that he was aggressively reminded of the fragility of humans. He had once been aggravated and somewhat disgusted by the neediness and ‘uselessness’ of humans. Now he was becoming increasingly aware that he had been ignorant before.
Upon reaching your room he led you to your bed and took your uniform jacket for you. You plopped on the bed, hoping you would find some kind of solace from laying down. Lucifer shifted on his feet briefly, still pondering on how to help you. He leaned down and rubbed your back gently, he hated seeing you like this. He would never admit it in the moment but seeing you feeling so uncomfortable was close to unbearable. Lucifer didn’t know how to feel about the ordeal, how bad was your sickness? Was this something that could get worse? Were you in any danger?
Unable to think of how to help he leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “MC, is there something you’d like me to do to help you feel better?”
You rolled over towards him and mumbled in a barely audible voice, “Maybe some tea, or like soup I guess?”
Ah, something to drink, that made sense, Lucifer nodded and began to leave when you weakly grabbed his arm. “You don’t have to, I don’t want to keep you from work.”
Lucifer almost chuckled at that, you looked so concerned that he was spending his time taking care of you. He shook his head, “It’s my pleasure MC, it’s alright, I’m happy to do it.”
You smiled a little up at him and he felt his heart stirr a little. He rushed out and his frustration and worry painted his face as soon as you couldn’t see him. Lucifer was not prone to worry. When you were concerned it was a different story. You weren’t protected by powers, you were so weak in comparison to himself. The prospect of you being sickly made him feel sick to his stomach. He sat in the kitchen and prepared soup for you. It made him think of the irony of the scene. The human that he had considered an absolute nuisance when he first met them was now under his care. He was willingly pacing the kitchen to make them soup to aid their healing. Too worried to laugh at the irony he swallowed his pride.
While the soup simmered he strolled down the hall, he couldn’t believe he was going to do this. He entered Satan’s room and sighed. He wanted a book on human medicine, how was he going to find anything of the sort in this mess? He perused the shelves, hoping to find anything remotely related to humans. After no luck he wrung his hands nervously. Good God Satan needed to organize the shelves. He took a deep breath and rushed back to the kitchen.
Thankfully the soup hadn’t boiled over. He dished it into a bowl and placed it on a tray to take to you. He cautiously carried it to your room and cracked the door to check on you. You were fast asleep. He smiled just a little, reassuring himself that you would be fine. He placed the tray by the bed and shook you lightly. You let out a whine but looked up at him. You were drowsy and weren’t very conscious.
“LUci?” Your voice cracked and you rubbed your eyes. You gave a big yawn and lifted yourself up slowly.
Lucifer grimaced slightly at the nickname but he let it slide. He wrote it off as delirium. He gave you a slight smile and lifted the tray, “I brought you some soup MC, would you like it?”
You nodded and patted your lap indicating that you wanted the tray on your legs. Lucifer gingerly placed the tray down, hoping that none would spill. You tenderly lifted the spoon and sipped a bit of the broth. Lucifer watched you attentively, he saw your shaky and halted movements.
He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help but take the spoon from your hands carefully. (Big brother instinct activated) “MC, let me do it, I don’t think you’re strong enough to do this safely,” He averted his gaze but he saw you nod sheepishly in his peripheral vision. He lifted a new spoonful of soup and blew on it before he lifted it towards you.
You felt a little embarrassed but you also felt a little giddy, Lucifer was rarely this vulnerable and caring. This was his responsible head of the family self coming out, he always held himself accountable for the wellbeing of his family. You opened your mouth slightly and took the spoon in your mouth. Thank goodness Lucifer was a good cook, the soup trickled down your throat and warmed your body. Helping the fever chills subside. You sighed in relief as the scolding soup soothed your throat. You ate as Lucifer fed you, perfectly content in the moment. You were completely unaware of the fact that your ailment was just in the beginning stages.
After finishing your meal you yawned dramatically and drifted back into sleep. Lucifer took the tray from your lap and leaned back in the chair he had pulled up to your bedside. He sighed and rested his gloved hand on his forehead. He couldn’t even believe how fast this illness had taken you. He slipped a glove off and gently felt your forehead. His brow furrowed, if anything you felt warmer. That was not a good sign. Lucifer quickly stood and rushed out of the room.
Upon arriving at the Demon Lord’s castle he rushed past Barbatos as he attempted to greet him. Diavolo was not present as he was at RAD still. Lucifer frantically made his way to the Royal Library. He ran his fingers over the books. He wasn’t sure which volume on human disease would be the best so he pulled various books from the shelves. Barbatos appeared in the doorframe and offered a bag to Lucifer.
“You can see into the future Barbatos, what is happening to MC?” Lucifer demanded, beginning to feel enraged.
“You and I both know that I cannot answer questions pertaining to the future. Please understand I wish to reassure you, but alas I can’t,” Barbatos bowed apologetically. Lucifer scowled at Barbatos scornfully, but he elected to rush past him back to the House of Lamentation.
Lucifer retook his place beside you and began to skim through novels on human ailments. He came upon a page that described that oftentimes humans would become ill when exposed to an unfamiliar environment. That seemed to be something of merit, he pulled out his phone and called for Solomon. Upon receiving no answer Lucifer held his head in his hands. He was blaming himself for this, as he often does. He brushed some of your hair out of your face. He couldn’t do anything, he didn’t know spells to heal human disease. There were spells for physical injury or curses, but bacteria? No, he couldn’t recall anything like that. His phone buzzed and he jolted from his daze.
Solomon: I just heard from Asmo that MC is sick? Apparently none of you know what it is. I’m heading over right now, it could be serious.
Lucifer: Hurry up. Answer your phone next time.
Lucifer sighed in relief, at least a human was on his way. Solomon would have more expertise on this. As he settled in to wait you groaned in your sleep. He noticed how you shook, your body was covered in a sheen of sweat. Your face was contorting into a look of discomfort. Lucifer stood over your form, completely unsure of what to do he steadied your shaking form. Your body refused to stop its incessant shivering.
In his panic Lucifer shifted you over and wrapped his coat around you. He held you close, concern painting his usually calm and sculpturesque features. Lucifer's heart was racing just as much as yours. His expression would seem mildly annoyed to an outsider, but to the trained eye his expression was one of utter panic. You stirred from your fever ridden sleep and squinted up at him.
“Oh a hug? Nice,” you mused in your delirium. You held onto him, clinging like a child. “Luci, I feel so cold, and my head is stuffed with cotton,” you complained. Lucifer shushed you and held your head to his chest, you were going to give him a heart attack.
Solomon entered the room quietly, and spotted you fading in and out of consciousness while Lucifer was clinging to you. Solomon bore his same smirk and examined your state. He felt your forehead and after his discernment he discovered the problem.
“You see Lucifer, MC is just a normal human for the most part. They came to the Devildom with no immunity to the unique sort of bacteria that reside here. So their immune system went into overdrive from their infection. I can probably develop a medicine given a few hours. MC will be fine, untreated they might not have done so well, but they were in good hands,” Solomon smiled at the unusually upset Lucifer and got to work on his remedy.
Lucifer sat there, relief beginning to show on his face. Thank goodness, he had begun to let his thoughts wander to dark places. This instance had reminded him of the fragility of humans. The fact that you could have died from something like disease frightened Lucifer. He knew that from now on he needed to keep a better eye on you. He pulled himself from the bed and went back to resting on the chair beside you. He left his jacket draped over and you subconsciously pulled it closer to you.
After you were administered Solomon’s medicine your fever broke shortly. You awoke from your fever dreams and saw Lucifer watching you expectantly. Lucifer draped his arms around you and you froze a little. This was unexpected but not exactly unwelcome. You leaned into his touch and rubbed his back soothingly. You realized that he had actually been worried about you.
“I-I’m alright I swear, I’m sorry if I worried you,” you mumbled, your voice stifled since your face was resting on Lucifer's shoulder.
Lucifer leaned away from the hug and pulled your face closer and you felt your face flush, not from fever this time. You closed the distance and kissed him gently. The kiss was fleeting and you rested your head on his shoulder. He sighed in contentment.
“Humans are so unbelievably fragile, you know that MC? Please see to it that I never have to watch you like that again,” Lucifer mumbled.
The two of you sat like that as you recovered for the rest of the day. You two didn’t speak much, you just relished in each other's company. (the next day Lucifer had a mild cough and you couldn’t help but chuckle a little to yourself.)
Thanks for reading!! :)
Mammon is next! His will be out this week!
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kaeya drabble #1
kaeya was blessed with amazing fingers. long, pretty, and skilled.
the same fingers that he uses to comb through your hair. gathering the stands in his hands to make a makeshift ponytail, which he uses to guide your head on and off his cock.
the same fingers that curl up into your heat, pressing against your soft spot and making you shake and whine. the fingers that thrust in and out of you, scissoring, while his thumb works your clit in circles, making you came with a loud mewl.
the same fingers that dig into your hip when you're riding him. digging into the skin hard enough to bruise when you lift your body up to impale yourself on his cock. fingers that help guide you into the right rhythm and motions for both of your pleasure.
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Whumptober Day 16: Recovery / Scars / Aftermath
(Loving this trend where I say I'm giving up on Whumptober and then post yet another fic a few days later)
Roy is talking to somebody on the phone now, his voice muffled through the door. Lian can hear enough to pick up pieces of the one-sided conversation. She hears the word ambulance, followed by their address. She hears what sounds like a sob at first, but it can’t be that. Lian’s dad would never cry like that.
She hears, My husband tried to kill himself, and then, brokenly, Hurry.
Trigger Warnings: Suicide Attempt
Lian wakes up to the sound of cursing.
Usually Lian would dismiss the noise and go back to sleep. She’s used to being awoken in the middle of the night from her dad and Jason coming home after doing their hero jobs. But Lian almost never hears Roy curse—not this loudly, at least. Jason does, frequently, but Roy always makes a point of censoring his mouth when Lian is within earshot. This time he doesn’t seem to care.
“Fuck, shit—Jason,” she hears. “No, no, no. Jaybird, talk to me, baby. Goddamn it. Fuck.”
Lian sits up in bed, rubbing her sleepy eyes. There’s the sound of frantic stomping down the hall, accompanied by more muttered curses. Lian’s stomach twists as she realizes that this isn’t the frustrated kind of cursing or the mad kind or the kind her dad makes when Jason is patching him up after a rough night. He’s scared.
And it takes something really bad to make Lian’s dad scared.
Being as quiet as she can, Lian climbs out of bed. She steps tentatively out of her bedroom, trailing her blanket behind her. She stops to grab her Wonder Woman plushie to help her be brave. She ventures into the hallway and hears clattering coming from the kitchen. A second later, Roy comes rushing out holding the cordless phone.
“Daddy?” Lian says, her eyes wide at his flustered state. “What’s wrong?”
Roy doesn’t seem to notice Lian at first—not until he nearly runs into her on his path to the bathroom. There’s red paint on his hands, but Lian doesn’t remember him painting anything. “Go back to bed, sweetheart,” he says, distracted and shaky. He barely looks at her.
He’s already dashed back into the bathroom before Lian can ask anything else. He swings the door shut behind him, effectively blocking Lian’s view of whatever he’s painting in there. Lian obediently goes back to her bedroom, but she doesn’t get farther than the threshold before her curiosity betrays her. She sits behind her door, opened a crack, and listens.
Roy is talking to somebody on the phone now, his voice muffled through the door. Lian can hear enough to pick up pieces of the one-sided conversation. She hears the word ambulance, followed by their address. She hears what sounds like a sob at first, but it can’t be that. Lian’s dad would never cry like that.
She hears, My husband tried to kill himself, and then, brokenly, Hurry.
There’s silence for a minute. Lian’s palms sweat where they grip Wonder Woman’s arm. Quieter than before, Lian hears Roy pleading with someone. Don’t do this to me, Jaybird. You idiot. You fucking idiot.
Lian sits there for several more minutes, listening to her daddy cry and picturing the red paint on his hands. When she hears sirens down the street, she gets up and climbs back into her bed. She pulls her blanket over her head and covers her ears so she doesn’t have to hear anymore.
The hospital smells funny. It’s stuffy and too clean, like chemicals and cotton. Lian wishes she had brought some toys to the waiting room with her. Daddy pulled Lian out of bed as soon as the ambulance left, not giving her time to change out of her pajamas or grab her toys. She saw a pool of blood on the bathroom tile through the open doorway.
Uncle Dick returns from his vending machine mission and tosses Lian a bag of animal crackers. “Here you go, kiddo.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. None of his smiles tonight have. He takes the plastic chair next to Lian’s and pulls her onto his lap, sitting her on his knee before opening his own snack.
“Any updates while I was gone?” he asks Uncle Duke. Duke shakes his head.
Lian’s other aunts and uncles are here too, all still in their pajamas. It’s like a sleepover, if sleepovers were sad. Grandpa Bruce keeps pacing back and forth across the waiting room, muttering to himself and making all sorts of calls. Damian is playing a game on his phone. Aunt Cass is sleeping with her head in Tim’s lap, curled up tight across two chairs.
“Where’s Jay-Jay?” Lian asks. Everyone has been talking about him tonight, but always out of Lian’s hearing range. She’s heard them using big words like lacerations, depressed, and suicide. She wants to ask what they mean, but she’s too afraid of what the answer will be.
Dick’s fingers tighten on the pretzel halfway to his mouth. He returns it to the bag warily. “He’s with the doctors, sweetie.”
“Is he okay?” Jason’s always talking about how much he hates doctors. He must be really hurt if he let them take him to a hospital.
“He’ll be fine,” Dick reassures her, but his smile is too sad to do any actual reassuring. “He’s just...a little hurt right now.”
Lian chews her animal crackers thoughtfully. “Can I see him?” She has a Barbie doctor kit at home in her room. Daddy should have let her bring it; maybe she could use it to make Jason better.
“In a little bit,” Dick says. He smooths her hair down like he’s trying to comfort her, but Lian doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be comforted from. “Your dad’s with him now. Just eat your snack, okay?”
Lian is sitting at the end of Jason’s hospital bed with a coloring book that Grandpa Bruce found for her at the gift shop. The book only came with five crayons, which doesn’t give her much to work with. How can Lian be expected to color in a giraffe if her only options are red, yellow, green, blue, and pink? She misses her crayons at home. That pack had the decency to come with eighty-four colors and a sharpener.
But Daddy says it’s rude to complain about gifts, so Lian colors in her green giraffe and listens while the grownups talk. Not that there is much talking going on. It’s been quiet ever since Lian was finally let in to see Jason. Bruce and Roy keep asking how Jason’s feeling, but his answers have been disinterested and mumbled.
Lian knows they’re being quiet because they don’t want her to hear whatever they really want to talk about, but she doesn’t want them to make her leave, so she doesn’t mention it.
Bruce is the one to break the heavy silence. “Jason,” he says, sounding tired.
No answer. Lian colors in a pink bunny.
Bruce sighs. “We’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”
“Just go away.” Jason doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds slow, like a gusher that’s been completely drained of juice. He’s paler than he was when he tucked Lian into bed earlier tonight. His arms are all wrapped up in bandages from wrist to elbow. Lian wishes they could all just go home, but Daddy said Jason has to stay here in the hospital for a little while longer.
Roy is holding Jason’s hand now. He hasn’t left his spot on Jason’s bed since Lian got here. He hasn’t let go of Jason’s hand either. He looks the most tired out of everyone, his eyes red and his hair in a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck. There’s still some paint on his shirt.
“Please, Jaybird,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb across Jason’s wedding band over and over—a matching counterpart to the one on his own finger. “You have to give us something. We just want to help you.”
Jason doesn’t look like himself, all washed out in the white hospital room. He doesn’t look at Roy or Bruce or Lian. “You really wanna help me?” he asks. He sounds grumpy, but the kind that’s just sadness pretending to be grumpiness. Lian doesn’t like hearing it. “Get out and leave me alone. I’m tired.”
Daddy called Aunt Mia to come pick Lian up and take her home. The sun has been up for hours, but the hospital doesn’t feel any less cold. Most of the others have gone by now. Uncle Duke and Damian had school, and Dick took Cass and Tim to get breakfast.
This is the first time since they arrived that Roy has left his husband’s side.
Lian focuses on buttoning her rain jacket all by herself while they wait for Mia to arrive. Roy and Bruce are talking quietly over her head.
“Three days?” Roy echoes with disbelief. “That has to be a joke.”
“It’s hospital protocol,” Bruce explains calmly. “He’s going to be under suicide watch for twenty-four hours, and then he has to do either three days in the psych ward or be admitted to another mental health facility.”
“This is a load of—” Roy stops himself. He covers Lian’s ears. “This is a load of horse shit,” he says, muffled but not enough. He takes his hands away. “You break the law every night. You can’t ignore this one damn rule?”
“It’s not a matter of rules. He’s not well, Roy.”
“I can take care of him,” Roy insists. “He’s just going through a rough patch right now, but he’ll get better. I’ll watch him.”
“Roy,” Bruce says patiently. He says it the same way that Roy tells Lian she can’t have twelve pancakes during breakfast. Consoling the tantrum before it starts.
“I’ll watch him, Bruce. I can take a few days off work. I won’t let him out of my sight until this thing passes.”
“He needs professional help.”
“Do you honestly think he’ll agree to that?” Roy asks, his voice having risen to an almost-yell. He takes a deep breath and says, more quietly, “Even if you somehow talked him into it, there’s nowhere for him to go. The guy’s legally dead as Jason Todd, and the Red Hood has a record longer than my leg. Put him in a facility under a fake identity and he can’t do treatment without lying about his entire life, which defeats the purpose. The only place shady enough to take him is Arkham, and that’s not fucking happening.”
Lian can’t remember the last time her dad cursed this much. She can’t remember the last time he’s been this openly scared about something either.
“Leslie Thompkins is a licensed therapist and a close friend,” Bruce responds calmly. “Jason knows her. He’s comfortable with her.”
“Fine,” Roy says. “He’ll come back home and I’ll drive him to his appointments.”
“He’s coming back to the manor. Just until he’s better.”
“No. No way.”
“It won’t be forever, Roy. But you already have your daughter to take care of. You can’t watch him every second.”
“Who the fuck do you think has been watching him every time he’s gotten low like this, huh?” Roy is trying to keep his voice down, but it still comes out as an angry hiss.
Lian snaps another button.
“When he can’t get out of bed, who do you think is the one making him shower and eat? Who’s the one that takes away his guns when he starts spiraling? I’ve gotten him through this before and I can do it again.”
Sometimes Jason gets sad, Lian knows. She’s seen it. She’s watched her dad and Jay-Jay have hushed conversations on days when Jason can’t get off the couch. Sometimes he cries. Sometimes Roy does. But by the next day, things are always good again. Jason learns how to smile again.
Bruce doesn’t budge. Lian doesn’t know why Roy thought he would; no one can win an argument against Batman. Not unless they’re Alfred or Lian. “This is what’s best for him.” Bruce plants a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Go home, Roy. Take a shower. He’ll be here when you get back. We can break the news to him together.”
Roy’s hands tighten into fists. His shoulders sag, defeated. Lian wonders if he knows there’s still blood crusted under his fingernails, or if he just doesn’t care. “He’s going to hate this plan,” Roy says finally.
“I know. But it’s the right thing.”
Lian spends the next few days with Aunt Mia. She comes up with all sorts of fun games to play, but Lian can’t stop thinking about Jason. When she left the hospital after the Bad Night, Jason kissed her on the forehead and told her he’d be fine, but he didn’t sound like himself. He hasn’t sounded like himself in a long time.
Lian has hardly seen her dad these past few days; he’s always at the hospital with Jason. Today Jason was finally released from the hospital, but Mia said that he can’t come home yet. Roy drove with Jason to Grandpa Bruce’s house to help him settle in. What exactly he’s settling in for, Lian doesn’t know, and no one will tell her.
Lian bounds up from the kitchen table when Roy closes the front door behind him. “Daddy, Daddy! Mia and I made sculptures!” She points at her tribe of colorful Play-Doh creations on the table.
Roy picks her up and kisses her cheek. “Sounds great, sweetheart.” He’s been distracted ever since Jason got hurt. His eyes keep going far away, but Lian can never figure out what it is he’s looking at.
Roy collapses into a kitchen chair, keeping Lian on his lap and hugging her close. “Thanks for watching her, Mia.”
“No problem,” Mia says, squishing her own Play-Doh sculptures back into the little plastic tubs. “How’d it go with…?” She trails off, her eyes darting between Roy and Lian.
Instead of answering, Roy smiles down at Lian. “Did you two have fun today?”
Lian holds up her Play-Doh snowman. “I named him Oliver.” She points to the yellow on its mouth. “This is his goatee, see?”
“Oh, man, Grandpa Ollie’s gonna love that.”
Roy and Mia make smalltalk for a while, talking about everything but Jason. Roy pays Mia for babysitting and sees her out. Then he sets about making chicken nuggets for Lian.
“Daddy, where’s Jay-Jay?” Lian ventures to ask. She smooshes a glob of pink and green together, squishing the dough between her fingers.
“He’s at Grandpa Bruce’s house, baby. I told you this earlier.”
“But why?” Jason has been living with them for over three years now. Doesn’t he like their apartment? He’s the one who picked out the bookshelves in the living room, after all.
Roy sighs and leans back against the counter. “Bruce thought it would be a good idea for Jason to be with family for a bit.”
“But we’re his family.”
“We are,” Roy agrees. He ruffles her hair. “But you know how when you got chickenpox, you stayed home from school that way you wouldn’t give it to your classmates?” Lian nods. “It’s a little like that. Jason’s just a little sick right now, and he didn’t want to expose you to that.”
Lian can’t see the connection between the bandages on Jason’s wrists and a case of chickenpox, but she doesn’t voice it. Daddy always gets sad whenever she talks about the Bad Night. “When can he come home?”
“Soon,” he promises. “He’ll be back with us in no time.”
Soon can mean anything from two hours to two months, but Lian knows better than to ask again. They eat their nuggets in silence. After making Lian clean up her Play-Doh, Roy puts on some Disney movies. They watch them together on the couch long past bedtime, but it feels empty without Jason.
“How’d today’s session go?” Roy asks. Lian is sitting on his lap while he does his daily phone call to Jason. Lian kicks her feet and waits impatiently for her turn. Roy nods along to whatever Jason is saying. “That’s great, Jaybird. That’s really great. Are the meds helping?”
Lian tugs on Roy’s sleeve. “Daddy, what are meds?”
Roy gently shushes her. He twists one of her pigtails gently around his finger while he listens to Jason. “Yeah, she’s right here.” He moves the phone away from his mouth. “Jay-Jay says hi.”
“Can I talk to him?” Lian reaches up to snatch the phone away, but Roy keeps it pressed to his ear, out of her reach. “Yeah, she wants the phone. Is that okay?” Jason must say yes, because next Roy is putting the phone on speaker and holding it up for Lian to talk.
“Hi, Jay-Jay!” she yells into the receiver. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, princess.” He still sounds tired, but it’s an improvement to how he was at the hospital. At least now he doesn’t sound like a dead person pretending to be an alive person. “How was your day?”
Lian catches Jason up on everything she can think of since he hasn’t been here to witness the important stuff, like the clown pancakes Daddy made this morning and the corgi she saw at the park. Jason hums along, ooh-ing and aah-ing at all the right places while Lian chatters on.
“When are you coming home?” she asks when she’s finished. “You missed three whole Taco Tuesdays.”
“Soon, sweetheart. I promise.”
Lian is getting real tired of that word—soon. Soon means nothing. Soon is just a word that grownups use when they don’t want kids to know the truth. “Uncle Tim said you want to die and that’s why you had to go away.”
Roy sucks in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t take the phone away. Jason is quiet for a while. Lian starts to wonder if he hung up, when finally he says, “Uncle Tim is a dummy, alright, princess? I’m just helping your grandpa with some things. I’ll be back home by next week.”
“Next week?” Roy rips the phone back and turns the speaker off so Lian is once again cut off from the conversation. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
She can faintly hear Jason’s voice over the receiver. “I’m not staying here any longer than that.”
Roy’s eyes flicker to Lian, who stays listening intently. He lowers his voice. “Babe, I think you should listen to what Leslie says. You know I want you back here more than anyone, but your mental health has to come first. Some time away will do you good. Get your head back on straight before you come back. There’s no rush.”
“I’m coming home next week,” Jason says, more forceful this time and leaving little room for argument. “I’m fine.”
Things have been tense since Jason’s return. Not that Lian has been included in any of the many hushed conversations that have taken place out of her earshot since then. Jason’s kept his arms covered up, not letting Lian get in even a curious glimpse at where the bandages used to be.
Daddy said that everything would go back to normal as soon as Jason was back, but Lian is pretty certain he miscounted somewhere. Jason has been off since...since the hospital, really. Or maybe before then. It’s like he left half of himself behind when he went away, and that half hasn’t come back yet.
His smiles, rare as they are, are empty. He doesn’t talk—not if someone doesn’t talk to him first, and when he does say something, he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He hardly looked twice at the macaroni bracelet Lian made for him. And Roy is so busy taking care of Jason that he starts to disappear too. Lian can’t remember the last time the apartment was this quiet.
Tonight she goes into her dads’ room to remind them that she still hasn’t gotten her bedtime story for the night. She stops in the doorway, peeking into the dark space. Jason is lying in bed, curled up on his side with his face buried in the pillow. Roy is sitting next to him, one hand resting on Jason’s hip over the blanket.
“I’m not asking for a lot here, Jaybird,” Roy says to him. Neither of them have noticed Lian.
Jason grumbles something that Lian can’t hear.
“You’d have energy if you ate more than a handful of grapes today.” Roy holds out something in front of Jason’s face. “One protein bar. That’s all I’m asking.”
Jason doesn’t take it. He doesn’t even look at it.
After a moment of waiting with no response, Roy slams the protein bar down on the mattress so suddenly it makes Lian jump. “Damn it, Jason! What do you want me to do, huh? You won’t eat anything, you won’t drink anything—it’s like I’m living with a damn zombie.” He runs a frazzled hand through his hair. “I want to help you, Jaybird, but I can’t do that if you won’t help yourself.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Jason whispers. His eyes are glossy, like when he’s chopping up jalapeños. “I’m trying. I wanna get better, but it’s…” He trails off, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Roy sighs. “Maybe I should call Bruce.”
“You promised.” Even now the words lack any real feeling.
“I know, but I’m way out of my depth here, babe. I don’t know how to help you, and I can’t risk losing you again.” He cups Jason’s cheek and turns his face to meet his own, his eyes desperate. “Please, Jaybird. Give me an inch. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Do it for her.”
It takes a long time, but eventually Jason’s hand snakes out from under the blanket. He takes the protein bar.
Roy smiles like it’s the best present he’s ever gotten.
Jason is helping Lian get ready for school this morning. It’s the first time since Jason got home that Roy’s left him alone unsupervised, but they were running out of groceries and Lian is sick of boiled hot dogs. Jason doesn’t seem any less sad than he was a few days ago, but he’s out of bed today, which must be a good sign considering how happily Roy kissed him when he came into the kitchen. He even ate a bowl of cereal without Roy having to coax him the whole way.
Now Jason’s head is bent to the task of scrubbing a chocolate syrup stain out of Lian’s sweater with a stain remover pen. Lian watches, twirling side to side and watching her skirt billow around. “Jay-Jay?” she asks.
He doesn’t look up. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Did you try to die because you don’t want me around anymore?”
Jason goes completely still. He looks up at her like she said something crazy. “What?”
“You’ve been sad. My friend Suzie said that when her mommy gets sad, she sends Suzie away to stay with her daddy in Metropolis. She said it’s a ‘break.’ Is that why you want to die? To take a break from me?”
Jason looks heartbroken. He sets aside the sweater and pulls Lian into a hug. “God no, sweetheart. No.” He kisses the side of her head. “I love being with you. And your dad. You guys are the best part of my day.”
“Then why are you sad?” People aren’t supposed to be sad when they’re surrounded by love. It’s why everyone gets so happy on Valentine’s Day and Christmas. When you’re loved, the sadness goes away. Doesn’t it?
Jason mulls over his answer for a moment. “It’s...Sometimes grownups just…” He sighs. He ends the hug and moves Lian back a bit so she can see his face. “Fine, I was sad,” he admits. “But it’s...it has nothing to do with you, I promise. I’d never want a break from this face.” He pinches her cheek, which usually makes her giggle, but not this time.
“Then why? I thought you were happy.”
Ever since Jason and Daddy got married it’s like they’ve all been living in a fairytale. It’s been pancakes in the morning and cartoons after school and playing with the babysitter while Roy and Jason go out at night to shoot bad guys. Lian thought the three of them would be happy like that forever.
“My life...hasn’t been the easiest,” Jason says. “There’s been a lot of badness in my life, and sometimes that badness catches up with me.”
“Like the bad guys you and Daddy fight?”
The corner of Jason’s mouth lifts. “Exactly like them. But these kinds of bad guys aren’t so easy to beat.” He hugs her again, tighter this time. “I’m sorry I scared you. I promised your dad it wouldn’t happen again, and I meant it. I won’t put you guys through that ever again.”
Lian nods, considering his words. She almost doesn’t know if she should believe him, but Jason has never lied to her before. She trusts that he’s not lying now. “Are you still sad?”
“Sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s been getting better.”
“You should get some happy stickers.” At his questioning look, Lian says, “That’s what my teacher does when we get sad at school. You get a shiny happy sticker to make the sadness go away.”
Jason smiles a little, his eyes going soft. “That’s a really good idea, princess.” He picks back up her sweater and caps the stain remover pen. “Alright, I think this is as good as it’s gonna get. Let’s get you dressed, and hopefully your teacher won’t yell at me for dropping you off late again.”
“—and the book talked about how lemurs are nocturnal, which means they sleep during the day and stay awake at night,” Lian says. “And they live in Madagascar, which is actually a real place! It’s not just a movie!” She’s got her crayons scattered around the kitchen table while her dads make breakfast. She’s on her fifth lemur drawing; the previous four hang proudly on the fridge for the world to see.
“That’s fascinating, pumpkin,” Roy says, half-listening while he makes coffee.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Jason mutters from the other side of the counter. He eyes the coffee maker with contempt.
Roy pours another scoop of coffee grounds into the filter. “It’s coffee. It’s impossible to do it wrong.”
“You can do anything wrong if you try hard enough. Your grounds-to-water ratio is all off. You might as well be making dirt.”
Roy flicks water at him. “I don’t criticize your coffee-making skills.”
“Yeah,” Jason says. “Because I do it right.” He bangs the Pillsbury dough tube on the edge of the counter to pop it open. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal a vertical red line on each forearm, but he doesn’t draw attention to them, so neither does Lian. He starts lining up cinnamon rolls on the greased tray.
Roy bumps him with his hip. “Jerk.” He dumps out half of the coffee grounds from the filter. “Did you take your meds yet?”
“I’ve got time,” Jason says, which means no.
Without commenting, Roy takes down the orange bottle of pills from the shelf above the counter. It’s hard to see the orange through all the stickers Lian stuck around it, with permission from Jason of course. Next to the bottle’s spot is Roy’s seven-year sobriety chip in its frame. On its other side is a drawing Lian made of a tiger because she wanted to be represented on the Accomplishment Shelf as well.
Jason rolls his eyes, but he takes the bottle. He takes a pill and washes it down with Roy’s glass of orange juice, which earns him a scornful look. Then Jason turns his attention to Lian. “If you want, princess, we can go to the zoo later and look at some real lemurs.”
Lian bounds up from her chair, her eyes wide. “Really?”
“Why not? It’s the weekend.”
“You sure, Jaybird?” Roy eyes him warily, trying to be subtle about his concern. “We don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it.”
Jason smiles. It’s not all that big or bright, but it’s a smile all the same. “I could use some sunshine.”
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[PART 14] TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE (DAD!BUCKY X TEACHER!READER)
READ UP TO THIS CHAPTER >> Series Masterpost by Chapter
Rating: Explicit (for Chapters 8.5 & 11)
Tags/Warnings: godfather!Bucky, canon-typical violence/death of character, fluff, angst, learning disability, almost a spy AU, PTSD, nightmares, mentions of anxiety, oral/penetrative sex, body modification, pain, hurt/comfort, the power of friendship
Author’s Note: So, I will basically be busy this whole weekend (which includes going to a FanExpo this Sunday for all the Marvel things!)💖 So to make up for not posting until sometime later next week, I am gifting an extra-long chapter for y'all. Please do not sue me for emotional damages.
When Bucky wakes, his head feels like it’d been smashed in by a sledgehammer. The beeps of the monitors sound like bombs at this point, each noise worming into his head and burrowing deep in his brain.
He has no idea what time it is or where he is for that matter, and his nose itches. It’s already hell and he’s been awake for all of six seconds.
He tries to clear his throat, but the dryness makes him cough, which makes him hurt, what the hell is -
“You’re awake!” Bucky startles at the sudden voice, tinny through a speaker somewhere, and then flinches, because that hurts too.
“Stark?” His voice sounds awful and he has a terrible case of cotton-mouth.
“Yeah, hang on, hang on. I’ll be right there, don’t move.” Bucky couldn’t, even if he wanted to, his muscles felt like lead. He can now take in the room, more than just the emptiness of it - the sterile smell that cling to the air, the yellow tinge of the lights as though it could possibly make anything softer.
“Still with me?” This time, the voice comes from the man himself, and he’s looking Bucky up and down. “Honestly I expected you to be out for at least two more hours.”
“High tolerance,” he mumbles, lips chapped. “Where am I? How long’s it been? I need to get home to Yelena.” He watches as Tony’s face does something complicated.
“I need you to hear me out first, or else I’m not telling you anything. Deal?” There’s a feeling of uneasiness already, but he’s too far along the process now to do anything about it.
“First thing’s first, you need to keep still. We’re back at Stark Industries, since I’ve got a makeshift medical bay. Nasty accidents when you work with weaponry, can you imagine? Anyway, there was some hidden damage to your muscle and to your ribs, so it’ll hurt to breathe for a while. It is imperative that you don’t strain yourself.”
Bucky grunted at that, because he’d already figured that part out.
“Secondly, everything seems fine because I’ve had your phone the whole time in case someone was trying to reach you. Lots of texts you should get to, by the way.” He puts the phone on Bucky’s bed, close enough to his right hand that he doesn’t need to move.
“Alright, last thing - and I again, stress that you cannot move or you’ll undo all our work. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Bucky’s pretty sure that if he had more energy, he’d sound more exasperated.
“I didn’t put the arm back on. It was causing you too much damage and you wouldn’t have been able to heal if I put it back on. I’m sorry, Buckaroo, I know it’s not entirely what you signed up for.”
Bucky’s heart drops - he doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to confirm what Tony is telling him because it would make it real. That he wouldn’t be whole.
“But I’ve been... Looking into some designs. I have a pretty good feeling that we can do something better, if you’re finally willing to take me up on my offer.”
It’s true, he hadn’t wanted this, the hassle of a new arm, the debt he now owes Tony, extra burden created by him creating a whole new limb for him. At least with the KGB, they owed him something but this charity was… new.
“Tony, I can’t ask that of you,” he settles on. Tony Stark runs a multi-million, or hell, multi-billion, corporation. Bucky’s one man, he can’t be worth the trouble.
“Consider it a favour to me, then,” he says. “Remember how I was saying I wanted to do more than weapons? That my friend Bruce and I were working together? This falls right under that category, Buckaroo. I want this company to mean something more, I want to be responsible for life instead of death. So really, you’d be helping me out here.”
Bucky appreciates that Tony’s trying to spin it around, but he doesn’t feel the same way that Tony does; he can’t get past the feeling of being unfit to take someone’s time like that.
“Let me think about it?” He asks instead. He would think about it, when his head didn’t hurt so much.
“Take all the time you need. Here’s Dr. Reyes’ card, she said to call her if any complications came up. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. Need a boost of morphine?”
Bucky accepts it, wants that floating feeling of nirvana instead of this bullshit migraine, pins and needles all over his body and the general feeling of just breathing. In the few minutes that it takes Tony to get it ready, he texts Clint to update him and reads his friend’s account of Yelena since he left. In his heart, he knows it was probably much worse than how mild Clint had made it seem.
Then he sees your name and he gulps in feared anticipation - on one hand, he wants you, more than anything, to be that calm, warm presence, but he knows he can’t let you see him like this. A mess. A piece missing. He opts to do the cowardly thing and turns off the option to show you he’s read the messages.
He feels despair when he reads your words - of course you were concerned for him and Yelena, that’s what you do. You care. But as the messages go on, it shifts more into pleading, and then he feels guilty for how it must have made you feel. He knows that you deserve better than him, especially now, where he’s even more broken, somehow.
How hard is life with one arm going to be? He runs through his entire daily routine - sure, he could brush his teeth and wash his face but how will he braid Yelena’s hair and make her breakfast? Is it safe for him to drive? He’d never be able to get back to his construction/maintenance work or landscaping, he definitely needs two hands for that. Could he still transcribe? How long would it take to type with only one hand? Could you ever be happy with someone like him?
The questions weigh on him like a ton of bricks, and he feels tears prick the back of his eyes. Just as he starts to think he might really have a mental breakdown, the soothing wave of morphine takes him and he closes his eyes.
Tuesday arrives, and it’s pretty obvious that you will not, in fact, be seeing Bucky. He hasn’t responded or even read the messages you sent last night. Yelena, again, is missing from class.
It weighs heavy on your mind, and the tightness in your tummy makes you almost nauseous. You just wish you had an answer - even if it was devastating, even if Bucky could just message back and say I’m sorry, I can’t do this at least then you’d know.
Not knowing is so much worse. If your kids notice that there’s a lot more individual project time then activities led by you, they don’t give you any indication. It felt like you were a zombie, forcing yourself to smile at the children and answering their questions, but not really taking in anything else.
Every so often, Peter looks back over his shoulder to Yelena’s empty chair. It’s like he expects her to suddenly turn up, because each time he doesn’t see her, his face falls a bit.
Yeah, I feel you, Petey.
The day passed by slowly yet in a flash, like all the hours had melted together and now it was the end of the day, except you felt drained even though you hadn’t done anything. You knew he wasn’t going to be there, but it didn’t stop your eyes from lingering on your door as the kids left. You could almost picture him leaning against the doorframe with his beautiful smile, waiting for you.
But it wasn’t real, and he wasn’t there. You’d never thought that Bucky would ghost on you. He didn’t ghost you. Yes, he did.
Your brain wasn’t helping, at all. Since today had unexpectedly become free and you really didn’t trust yourself to not spiral out of control, you asked Riley to meet you at your place, and sighed in relief when he didn’t ask any questions.
“I’ll bring wine.”
Thank heavens for Riley.
Clint was very, very far out of his element. He chose to live on a farm, away from people, for a reason. The sounds and smells, mixed with the sheer amount of people, was just so overwhelming. It’s enough to make him want to ditch his hearing aids and be blissfully ignorant to the chaos around him. Stark Tower looks like a giant, phallic centrepiece smack dab in the middle of the city. Dodging city-goers with their unnaturally fast pace and too-expensive coffee, he leads Yelena up to the building and inside, marvelling at the modern look of the place. The lobby was bustling and he walked up to the front desk.
“Um, hi, I’m here to see Tony Stark?” The receptionist, honest to god, laughed in his face.
“Yeah, isn’t everyone?” She snarks.
“I don’t know, are they? Look, I have a friend here with him. I don’t even need Tony if you can just point me in the direction of the medical wing.”
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or what you’re talking about, but I’ll have to call security if you keep rambling like this.” She’s unrelenting, with a hard look. Clint sighs, but tries to understand that the press probably try to sneak in all the time and he’s dressed more for a jog than a business meeting. So he grabs his phone, and hopes that it’ll be enough.
“Here, this is what I was told. I’m happy to wait if you can, I don’t know, call someone and verify.”
“Tony Stark doesn’t take calls for random people like this,” she rolls her eyes, but Clint doesn’t back down. He’s gone toe-to-toe with the mafia, for fuck’s sake. “Just, have a seat,” she relents. Yelena is still clutching his hand, looking around worriedly when he doesn’t immediately go inside.
“Why won’t they let us see papa?” She asks him.
“Well, it’s because they don’t know who I am. But that’s a good thing, because it means they’re being very careful and keeping papa safe. They just have to made sure I’m really his friend first.”
“That’s silly, of course you know papa. And I know Mr. Tony and Peter, and last time we parked under the ground and took that all the way upstairs,” she points at the elevator.
Clint assesses the situation - the receptionist, pointedly not calling anyone at all, and the layout of the lobby. It was pretty busy… kind of open.
“Alright, kiddo. I have a plan but you gotta listen very carefully…”
Did he feel bad for using an innocent 6-year-old as a diversion? A little bit. But did it work? Absolutely. The moment he’d slipped in, he’d shrugged off his coat to try and blend in a bit better, took cover behind the pillar, in the shadow. He’d told Yelena to double back and duck under the turnstiles so he watches, eyes always on her. He hates to say it, but she’d make a good spy. She follows instructions perfectly and within five minutes, they’re headed for the elevator.
“Okay, do you remember which button?” He asks her, lifting her up to the panel. She presses the top one labelled “PH”.
There’s only two doors in the hall, one significantly bigger, which he assumes is the way to Tony. He lifts a hand to knock, but eyes the retina scanner wearily.
Think, Barton, think.
“Um, are you lost?”
Clint nearly jumps out of his skin and turns around to find a slender woman in heels and a white pantsuit.
“Yes, I am very, very lost,” he says truthfully. “I’m here for a friend that was, uh, injured? But I didn’t know where to go and this little lady here said she remembers taking this elevator up to this floor.”
“Happy brought me and papa here when papa drove Peter after school,” she says to the woman.
“What’s your name, pretty girl?” The woman directs to Yelena.
“Yelena? Oh, I’ve heard so much about you from Peter. I know exactly who you’re looking for. Here, follow me,” she gestures to them back into the elevator. Clint is ecstatic that they somehow bumped into the right person on this mission.
“I’m Pepper,” she finally introduces herself. “You must be…”
“Clint.” He goes to shake the slender hand offered. “So you know about, uh…”
“Buckaroo?” She questions with a grimace on her face. “Sorry, Tony never gave me his real name. I realized I also only knew you as... “
“Clinto Bean?” He offers, not at all fazed. She does make another face at it.
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” She laughs.
“Well, so long as everyone else has got a silly name, I suppose those are just the rules.” She’s a kind woman, and the medical bay is apparently in the pits of Hell because the elevator takes them down, down, down, past the garages.
It’s like a whole different facility when they step out, and Pepper leads them down the corridor.
“PAPA!” Yelena’s scream bounces off the walls as she rips her hand out of Clint’s grip and runs to push at the door. It doesn’t open immediately and she bangs her tiny balled up fists before she bursts into tears.
“Oh honey, here, I just have to unlock it,” Pepper says, quickly going to scan her key card. On the other side of the glass, Bucky stirs and Clint notes the heavy bandaging.
“Yelena!” He calls out, scooping her up before she can do any damage. “Papa is hurt right now, okay? The doctors fixed him up but we have to be very careful with touching him, or else we could hurt him by accident okay?” She nods frantically, wiping her tears as they make their way to Bucky, who’s blinking sluggishly. Either sleepy, or hopped on drugs, he gives them a confused look.
“Cupcake? What’re you doin’ here?” Bucky asks before registering Clint’s presence.
“Sorry, but she couldn’t wait any longer and I did my best to fend her off.” Bucky snorts and then flinches. Yelena leans down, wriggling in Clint’s grip and he reminds her again to be careful. Her arms wrap around Bucky’s neck as Clint gently lowers her down on his right side, where he envelopes her in a hug.
“Sorry I scared you, pumpkin.” She doesn’t reply, but sobs quietly into his shoulder there as he rubs her back. Clint takes the opportunity to sign to Bucky.
How bad is it?
Bucky immediately gives him a thumbs down.
Are you getting a new arm?
He sticks his hand out and wobbles it back and forth to signify ‘maybe’.
Do you get to leave soon?
“Any idea?” He asks out loud.
“Tony says I can stay as long as I need, but I’m itching to get out of here. I guess as long as I can walk, door’s open.”
And? Can you? He doesn’t want to scare Yelena with some of these questions.
“I think so.”
“Then you just let me know what you need.”
Riley is silent by the time you finish your story, starting from Saturday, and is staring at your phone that you’ve handed over. Truth be told, you were scared you would just keep texting if you had it. You were each a few glasses of wine in at this point, but even that’s not enough to slow you down.
“And I just keep thinking, what if I scared him off? And he’s just such a good actor that he convinced me it was all good but the moment he left he ran for the hills, and that’s why Yelena’s not in school, because they’ve transferred to some faraway town where he’s like, off the grid or whatever it is spies call it?”
“Okay, slow your roll, Jesus,” Riley says after your hundredth ramble. “I know that you always do this, you know, the overthinking and the panicking but just breathe for a second. Look, Bucky doesn’t seem like the type of guy to do that. You know that, you’ve told me that. So unless he’s really changed in the past couple of days or weeks, I don’t see him doing this to you for no reason. Now on Saturday, you said you loved each other. Even if he was going to run from you, it would’ve been easy for him to just say sorry, I don’t feel that way. Right?”
“What if this was easier though, to just go with it, the lie, and then he knows he’ll never have to see me again.”
“Sweetcheeks, you are spiralling,” he points out, for the umpteenth time. “You feel like this because your brain is playing tricks on you, trying to make you think the worst. So, come on, hit me with a positive.”
“Uggggh, Riley,” you whine, tired of the therapy talk.
“Positive, go,” he says back just as forcefully.
“Fine. I have the best best friend in the world.”
“Hm, I like that. Alright, one more.”
“The kids are very excited for the holiday show play.”
“Except Yelena was going to be one of the pirates and she was so excited and now she won’t be there!”
“Oh my god,” Riley mutters, shaking his head. “Alright, how about we think about why else Bucky would do this. I mean, what if it’s not Yelena that’s sick, but him?”
And yes, that’d crossed your mind already, but even if he had the flu or the stomach bug, surely, he’d still pick up his phone from time to time?
“Okay, well, do you know anyone else that could get in touch with him?”
“Riley, I have thought of everything. I was even tempted to go to the principal’s office and ask for Yelena’s file to find the address but that’d just be weird.”
“It’s a little overboard -”
“And I couldn’t find Clint in the phone book or Laura! And apparently neither of them have any form of social media, and I can’t even remember how to get to their house because I was too distracted by Bucky while we were driving!” There are tears in your eyes now because it feels like it’s your fault somehow for being stuck like this. Why couldn’t you have just remembered the address, or something?
“Okay, that is enough, get - come here,” he tugs you over with difficulty, the blanket wrapped around your limbs on the couch and wine glasses still in your hands.
“One step at a time. Okay, who’s he friends with other than Clint?”
“I… I don’t know?” You realize. He’d let you in on so much and so little.
“Okay - and his business? Does he have an accountant or something?” You shook your head.
“It’s self-owned, he does everything himself - the booking, the finances, taxes.”
“What about his doctor, jesus.”
“I - I have no idea?”
“Well, he must have one, if not he’d have one for Yelena, does the school keep that kind of information?”
“I don’t think so, we send them to the nurse and they write up the report to take home with them.”
“Jeez, sweetcheeks. Alright, let’s think for a second and - hey, god, please don’t cry.”
“It’s - not -”
“Yeah, I know, I know, c’mere.” You let him sooth your hair, like he did when you were younger. “It’s not you, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything different, I promise you. This’ll get sorted out. He can’t just fall off the face of the planet, right?”
“Yeah, I know - I… know,” you sigh. You take deep breaths with him.
“Oh! Maybe we’re going about this wrong! We’ve been trying to track Bucky, but what about Yelena? Who are her friends in class, would their families maybe know? Don’t kids have playdates or something?”
“God that’s a long shot, I mean I know she’s really good friends with Peter but his parents don't come to get him usually, they have a chauffeur for him - “
“Wish I had a chauffeur,” Riley grumbles, topping off your wine.
“And I guess she’s good friends with AJ and Cass, but I talk to Sarah from time to time and I don’t recall her ever mentioning play dates, I mean the boys have each other at home, and now they’ve got their uncle staying with them for a bit -”
Wait. Sam! Bucky talked about Sam on the ride to Clint’’s house!
“Hey, you remember Sam Wilson? Cass and AJ’s uncle? He uh, well he works with a lot of people who’ve experienced trauma.”
“Yeah, I think I remember Sarah telling me he works with veterans?”
“He does, mostly, but he has other support groups. He’s… really good. At listening. Saying the right thing. If anyone could help, it’d be him.”
“Maybe we could connect them one day,” you say hopefully.
“[y/n]? [y/n]?” You finally register Riley shaking you.
“You’re a genius!” You exclaim happily, diving for your phone and spilling some of your wine in the process.
“Thank you? But what exactly just happened?”
You press the dial sign on Sarah’s number while Riley looks on in confusion.
“[y/n], hey, how are ya?”
“I’m sorry to bug you on a weekday night, I was really hoping you could help me with something.”
“Yeah, of course, what do you need, hun?”
“Long story short, I really need to check up with, uh, Bucky and I think Sam might be able to help?”
“Well, you sure ain’t the first one to use me to get to my brother.”
“Sarah! It’s not -” You’re cut off by the sound of her cackling on the other end.
“Oh, don’t worry, I know. You’ve got eyes only for Bucky, I saw you at the show and tell. Looked at him like he hung the damn moon.”
“Sarah,” you try to hush her, horrified that Riley was already starting to smirk at the new revelation.
“Hang on a sec, hun. SAM!”
“Like he hung the moon, huh?” Riley whispers and you flip him your middle finger.
“Hello? This is Sam.”
“Hi, Sam, sorry to barge in on your evening like this.”
“It’s all good, I hear you can’t get in touch with Bucky?”
“Yes! And, I remembered he mentioned that you had hung out so, I - I don’t know, I just had to try.”
“Is everything okay?” Sam sounds genuinely worried now.
“Well, I don’t know, but he hasn’t answered his phone and… I haven’t seen Yelena either. They could be sick or something, but I just would really like to make sure.
“Yeah, I get that, for sure. Shit, I’ve only got his number too which isn’t any help. Have you tried Clint?”
“I don’t know how to get a hold of him, actually. I was hoping you might have his number?”
“Yeah, I do, one sec.”
You made a fistbump motion and waved for Riley to pass you a pen so you could scribble on the back of an old newspaper.
“Thank you, Sam, I really appreciate it!”
“No problem, I hope he’s alright.”
You stared at Clint’s phone number like it was a winning lottery ticket.
Clint closes the door behind him, leaving Bucky on the bed in his makeshift guest room in the basement, Yelena attached to his side. It’s almost 10:30pm and it's been an exhausting few days.
“All set up?” She asked, coming to wrap her arms around his waist.
“Think so. Thank you,” he kisses her.
“Oh come on, like we would ever let Bucky go through this alone, especially after all he’s done for us.”
“No, not for that, for being… you. For being my rock.”
“You were always mine,” she gives him a peck.
It’s not long after that he gets a call from an unknown number.
“Iunno,” he shrugs before picking it up. “Clint speaking.”
“Clint! Oh my god. It’s [y/n], I’m so, so sorry to be bothering you this late, it’s just - I haven’t heard from Bucky or Yelena and I’ve been worried sick about him.”
Laura catches the conversation in the quiet of their living room and watches as Clint’s eyes go wide.
“[Y/n], Bucky’s fine. Well, not fine, but he’s safe. Sorry, I didn’t think about letting you know, I thought the school would’ve passed along a message when I called in for Yelena.”
“Oh! Yes, well, they said she would be absent, due to a personal matter and I - I guess I didn’t want to pry but I haven’t spoken to Bucky since Saturday and we were supposed to see each other today, so…”
“Christ, sorry [y/n], I’ll make sure to have him get back to you. Just know that he didn’t blow you off on purpose, he, uh, had to see the doctor and they kept him overnight and he was only released today.”
“What?! He - are you sure he’s okay?”
“He will be,” Clint says. “I should really let him tell you, when he can. Just take my word for it that I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”
“Yeah - of course, yes. Okay, thank you, Clint.”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll have him call you.”
“Thanks, goodnight Clint.”
After an eventful day, he was still keyed up, and told Laura he’d be in bed soon. First, he had to sort Bucky out. Judging from the light peeking out of the door downstairs, Bucky was still awake.
“Buck, why haven’t you called her?”
“Who,” he says dumbly as he adamantly tries not to think about you.
“Cut the crap, and move over.”
Bucky shuffles to the left so Clint can climb into the sofa bed.
“She called me.”
“She what -”
“Because you didn’t call her,” he jabs Bucky’s shoulder. “Why?”
“I don’t want her to know,” Bucky says pitifully.
“Don’t give me that,” Clint admonishes. “She really cares about you, man.”
“I know. I know, I just - need time.”
“Don’t wait too long. I told her you’d call her, so don’t fuck around.”
“Yeah, yeah, now are we watching this or what?” He desperately wants to change the topic.
“Only an old man like you spends his time watching Jeopardy.” But he sits, and watches, because he’s a good friend like that.
You hadn’t really rested easy, but easier, you suppose. Bucky was okay. That’s great, you were relieved! But now that you know that… Why hadn’t he called you? Or just let you know he was okay? He must’ve seen your messages if he had somehow contacted Clint.
It was late, but you were wired and you couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried. Yes, Clint had said Bucky was fine, but it didn’t sound like it. And it ate away at you to not know what happened.
When your alarm went off, your body didn't want to cooperate, and when you checked your phone, still no message. Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to try and look at least somewhat put together,
Honestly, you’re not sure you had it in you today. Even as you combed your hair you nearly cried and your hands shook. It was bad, the nerves, and you’re sure the wine didn’t help either.
So you did what you hated doing: you called in sick. And worried even more about your class on top of everything else.
You’d cried, slept, watched TV and stared endlessly at your phone. It was hard to concentrate on anything else. And then finally your phone lit up.
You picked up so quickly, you’re not even sure it made it through the first ring.
“Bucky?” The silence that followed allowed you to hear the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.
“Oh my god,” you let out in relief. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve, uh, been better. But it’s alright. I’ll just need a few weeks.”
“Weeks? Bucky, what happened?”
“It’s… It’s nothing, don’t worry.”
“Don’t be silly, of course I’m going to worry! It sounds bad, Buck.” You heard him inhale sharply on the other end.
“Look, [y/n], I - I’m sorry. I know I made you worry, and I shouldn’t have. And I took too long to call you, and I’m shit at talking about these things. I - I think that maybe I’m just not ready. For a relationship.”
The words hit you so hard that you physically fell back on your couch.
“What?” You prayed that you heard that wrong.
“I’m really sorry, [y/n], please, please just know that you were everything I could’ve ever dreamed of and I - I care about you, a lot, so much - I just don’t think I can do this.”
“Bucky, please, I - please don’t do this on the phone. Can I come see you?” Please, you said you wanted it all, please, please!
“I… can’t, [y/n]. I’m sorry, I just can’t. I can’t see you. I know I’m being a complete and utter asshole, I didn’t want to hurt you, I don’t. I - just trust me on this, please. Please.”
“So, this is it?” Your voice sounded frail, just like how you felt as the first of many tears escaped.
“I -” Bucky stopped and you waited with bated breath, but there didn’t seem to be anything else left for him to say.
“Right,” you clear your throat with a sniffle. “I’ll, um, see you around, I guess. Take care of yourself, Buck.”
“[y/n], I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. You deserve better than this, you know that, right?” You weren’t sure if it was better or worse that you could hear the sound of desperation in his voice, how devastated he seemed. In that moment, you knew you would break if you didn’t end the call right then and there.
“Goodnight, Buck. I love you,” you barely manage in a strangled sob. The last part slipped by accident, but what did it matter now anyhow? You hung up the call before he could say anything back. Ultimately, it wouldn’t change the fact that he gave up on you when you felt like things had only just started. Your heart felt like it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces that you weren’t sure you even wanted to pick up.
It didn’t feel real - just a few weeks ago, you’d both said you wanted to try, that you wanted it all. A few days ago, you’d said you loved each other. And even though you knew something was going on with Bucky, that devil on your shoulder whispered in your ear, he didn’t want you.
Bucky’s dinner threatened to come back up after the line went dead. Goodnight, Buck. I love you.
He can’t believe you’d still say those words to him after the bullshit he’d just spewed. It was the right thing to do - he was sure of it. He couldn’t be with you, not like this. It took everything in him to force the words out of his mouth.
But he keeps replaying your last words to him, the way your voice had cracked when you asked, practically begged him to talk about it in person. And even that, he couldn’t give you. He had nothing to give, he couldn’t even give you a decent break up and he hates himself for it.
Goodnight, Buck. I love you.
He wants so badly to hold you, to say I love you, too. Instead, he flops back on his pillow and screws his eyes shut, letting the tears slip down his temples.
He tries his best to stop thinking of you, but it’s impossible - he misses your smile and the kindness of your eyes, the floral scent on your skin when you held him close. It’s burned so deep in his memory that if he focused on all these things, he could almost feel you there.
But you’re not, and you never would be again. Because he just broke your damn heart and you deserved so much better than him. So he vowed that, even if it killed him, he had to stay away, to let you move onto bigger and better things. After this school year, there’d be no reason for you to ever see him again. That would be for the best. Right?
He promised to give you everything, and instead he gave you nothing - maybe even less than nothing.
She’ll never want to see you again.
He clamps a hand over his mouth to smother the sob that comes out. The pain he’d experienced that night his arm malfunctioned was nothing compared to this.
Series Masterpost by Chapter
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Day 19: Dry Humping
Beelzebub x GN!MC
A deep chill ran through their sleeping frame as another draft ran through their room. It was hard enough to wake them up, tugging their blanket further up their body, but to no avail in stopping the cold from nipping at their skin. The House of Lamentation was an old and drafty house, so the chilly air of the cold night outside was virtually impossible to avoid.
With a sigh of resignation, the climbed out of their bed and bundled up their blanket in their arms, heading out in search for the best heat source they could find in the house.
Much to their relief, the demon was actually awake, having his midnight snack in his bed when they entered his room. He looked up with worry etched on his face, seeing them awake and standing at the foot of his bed.
"MC, you okay? Having trouble sleeping?"
They gave a sad nod, coming around the side of his bed to sit at the edge next to him. "It's too damn cold in my room. I wanted to ask you...if it would be alright for me to sleep in your bed...with you, if you didn't mind. You're so warm…"
Beelzebub felt his face heat up at the compliment, but gave a nod in agreement. "I don't mind if you want to sleep here. It...It'd be nice to have your company."
He put away the lazy of his snacks, cleaning up his bed a bit before allowing MC to crawl in next to him. They cuddled against him, their back to his chest, and pulled their blanket over them as he covered the both of them with his own.
Though it seemed MC was able to fall asleep quite quickly, Beel was stuck. He wasn't sure where to put his arms, let alone if he could relax into MC or not. He didn't want to make them feel uncomfortable...but man, did they feel good being against him. He couldn't help leaning forward a bit to inhale their scent; it was almost intoxicating. And it had quite the effect on his body as well.
He could feel himself getting hard at the proximity, silently cursing himself for not having better control over himself. He eventually gave in, and wrapped his arms around MC, pulling them closer, their bottom pressing against this pelvis. He buried his face in their hair, trying to hold in his groan ad he felt his hips begin to rut on their own accord. He didn't want to wake MC with his movements, but he couldn't seem to control them.
He was now full on humping MC's bottom, holding them tightly to him. He felt ashamed for his actions, but he so desperately wanted them too.
The slight shaking he was doing was what woke MC up. They tried to roll over to see what he was doing, but he only tightened his grip.
"MC...I'm sorry but I...I can't help myself right now…"
One of his hands crawled up the front of their shirt, while the other messed with the hem of their shorts.
MC swallowed thickly; they had been having quite the dream about him to begin with, so for it to lead up to this right now…
"G-Go ahead, Beel."
That's all he needed.
The hand crawling up their shirt began to grope at their chest, and the hand at the hem pushed down the front of their shorts to play with their sex. They had to stifle the groan threatening to leave them, for fear of waking up Belphegor who was a bit away from the two of them.
Behind them, Beel continued to rut against their bottom, thrusting his hips in time with his fingers working their sex. He bit down on their ear, making them squeal a bit, and teased the lobe with his tongue before leaning forward to pressed open mouth kisses to their neck.
"Can I make you cum, MC?"
His question was so sincere and sounded so innocent that MC almost lost it right there and then.
"Yes, please, Beel!"
He doubled his efforts on their sex, fingers working in a frenzy, as his own rutting picked up pace as well. He could feel the roughness of his own clothing, but he was too busy chasing his orgasm to care about rug burns he would get. He wanted to cum at the same time as MC. Eventually he stuck his free hand down the front of his shorts and worked his cock in time with his fingers on them, and he felt them cum around them, soon hitting his own high right after.
He didn't mind the mess he had made of the two of them, too blissed out to really care. He cuddled into MC, kissing on their neck and shoulders, offering to take them to the bathroom to help clean up, when an annoyed voice broke the silence of the room.
"Next time go to MC's room if you two want to do stuff like that. You make too much noise."
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Fictober 2021, Day 19: “I feel strange.”
Fandom: The X-Files | Rated T / PG-13 | Warning: Drugged Character | @today-in-fic
“Scully, I feel strange.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since they were ushered into the ambulance. Well, since he was ushered into the ambulance and she planted herself next to him inside.
“I know. Can you describe it?”
Mulder shakes his head as his eyes slip closed, and he grins. “I feel like I’m floating!”
Scully glances at the EMTs and one of them shrugs. “Everything looks normal. It just seems like he was injected with something at the site you pointed out to...make him high.”
She shakes her head and turns back to Mulder, cupping his cheek so he’s facing her. He blinks his eyes open and smiles at her softly. “Scully, there you are. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you! C’mere.” He goes to reach up but she pushes his arm back on the stretcher and leans in. “I love you.”
“I love youuuuuuuu, Scullayyyyyyyyyyy...” he continues, half-singing.
A giggle bursts out of Scully as she brushes her fingers through his hair. “I know you do, Mulder. I love you, too.”
“I’ll never say it enough,” Mulder says, sloppily turning his head to the side to press a kiss to her hand, which had come down the side of his face to cup his cheek.
“I know. Save it for when we’re back at home, though. Okay?”
He nuzzles her palm and nods. “Okay.”
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carnal embrace: a non-exhaustive list of "hannigram rearrange each other's guts" fic
because i enjoy crafting only the most hinged of themed rec lists, here, have all the gore kink, erotic cannibalism, woundfucking, and sexy vivisection i could pull out of my AO3 bookmarks.
amazingly, no confirmed major character death outside of anyone's overheated fantasies. consent ranges from enthusiastic to highly dubious to viciously trampled-upon.
freeform tag lists (+ any non-Hannigram pairings and any warnings besides violence) reproduced in full so you can pick which flavors of dead dove you want to eat.
corresponding AO3 collection, 1 bonus fic (TWOTL woundfucking with major character death), may get more additions later:
things you shouldn't do to holes that shouldn't be there
The Enticement of Suffering by jonnimir
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Blood and Gore, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Medically inadvisable treatment of wounds, Sadism, Sadistic Hannibal, Possibly Asexual Hannibal, Pain, Non-consensual sadism, Dubiously consensual sexual contact, But Will's dick is really the least of his concerns, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Hurt No Comfort, Semi-masochistic Will Graham, Gory dirty talk, Discussion of woundfucking, Theoretical semi-public humiliation, Improbable orgasm, Episode: s03e06 Dolce, M-rated sexual content, E-rated violent fuckery, torture?
After Will is shot, Hannibal takes a sadistic interest in his wound.
Head Like A Hole by Nerve_Itch
Rape/Non-Con, Francis Dolarhyde/Will Graham, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Gore, injury misuse, things going into wounds that shouldn't, woundfucking, Trauma, terrible things happening to Will Graham, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, enthusiastic Cronenberg references
A version of events that somehow makes things even worse for Will.
Written for the Hannibal Gorefest 2019
Gladly Beyond by EarthsickWithoutYou
Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s03e06 Dolce, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, wound licking, scar kink, Will Graham in pleasured pain, Stream of Consciousness
Takes place during the episode "Dolce," after Will is shot by Chiyoh. As Hannibal tends to Will's bullet wound, Will's feelings come to the surface and force Hannibal to confront his own.
Marital Relations by StratsWrites
Serious Injuries, Violence, Blood, so much blood, Oh god, Blood Drinking, Blood As Lube, yes i know it doesn't work that way, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Gunshot Wounds, Inappropriate contact with injuries, i have no idea how to tag this, DON'T PUT YOUR TONGUE THERE, do you want bloodborn pathogens because this is how you get bloodborn pathogens, sexual contact with wounds, poking fingers and tongues in holes that shouldn't be there, sex not on top of a corpse but very adjacent to it, Don't Try This At Home, unless you want pain and infections
They don't fall over the cliff. They fall to their knees, and then to the ground, a haze of blood and love. Pain and suffering and affection, the way it has always been for them.
Love Like Blood by princesschubbles
Blood, lots of blood, Post TWOTL, Not wound fucking but also not NOT woundfucking, imminent risk of infection, "Will graham kinkshames himself", Medical Kink, ? - Freeform, surgery kink, Blood Kink
Will can't leave their wounds alone.
(Smut. Gory but not as gory as I expected.)
anatomical or surgical know-how
Come Undone by strix_alba
Vore, Cannibalism, Blood, Medical Inaccuracies
"My name is Will Graham," he recites. "It’s 6:30pm, and I am in your kitchen, preparing to be, uh." He surveys their setup, and his mouth twists into a smile. "Eaten."
(Vivisection and cannibalism as sex, because nothing says 'I love you' like letting your psychiatrist play around with your internal organs. PWP.)
fate and circumstance by tei
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, weird vivisection sex, Unsafe Insane and Consensual
Hannibal cuts Will open. Again.
A Taste For Suffering by StratsWrites
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, BDSM, Dom/sub, Murder Husbands, Incarcerated Hannibal, Will Graham on a rampage, Dark Will Graham, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Sub Will Graham, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Don't Try This At Home, Breathplay, Knifeplay, Whipping, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Bondage, Painplay, Painful Sex, Dry Sex, Murder, possibly missing tags, Read at Your Own Risk, sex with a broken leg, would not recommend btw, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Graphic surgery, sexualized surgery, extreme kink without a safeword, Asphyxiation, THOSE WERE SOME IMPORTANT TAGS I FORGOT, Character Death, Not Will or Hannibal
Hannibal Lecter was recaptured on a Tuesday afternoon, nearly five years after he disappeared. He didn’t appear to have aged a day, to Jack Crawford’s irritation. There were whispers amongst the transport crew that he was a modern-day Elizabeth Bathory, bathing in the blood of his victims for eternal youth. Or, rather, eternal middle-age.
They imagined they were safe, with Hannibal back behind bars. They didn't count on the rampage Will would go through to get him back.
Inferno by Psyromayniak
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Vivisection, Dissection, operation, medical kink maybe, Existing Relationship, will knows and accepts Hannibal is the ripper, Gore, Blood, internal organs, Cannibalism, all that shit, Restraint, Will is awake during this, anaesthetic
Hannibal wants to touch Will on the inside...
Season 1 Episode 7 - Sorbet by PaleGlimmer
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Episode Related, Season 1, Hannigram - Freeform, Medical Procedures, Autopsy, Masochism, Organ Removal, Evisceration, Pain, Sexual Fantasy, Vivisection, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
After having witnessed bloody Hannibal Lecter saving a life, Will Graham keeps dreaming about the doctor rearranging his guts (literally). In his obsessed mind, sexual autopsic shenanigans ensue.
putting the erotic in homoerotic cannibalism
taste by YouAreMyDesign
Post-Fall (Hannibal), Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Will Graham Knows, Blow Jobs, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Murder Kink, Murder Husbands, Come Swallowing, Jealousy, Jealous Will Graham, Past Relationship(s)
"If you could eat any part of me," he purrs, "what would you take?"
Only the Tender Meat by Isagel
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Vore, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Shared Vore Fantasies, Dominance, Submission, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism, Cooking, Gentleness, Caring, Tenderness, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Guro, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Possessive Hannibal, Nightmares, Caretaking, Sociopathic Love Songs, All I Want In Life Is For Hannibal To Own Will, BDSM, Sadism, Possessive Behavior, Disturbing Themes, Exhaustion, Community: kink_bingo, Scent Kink, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Will has nightmares. Hannibal soothes them.
Or: The One With Shared Vore Fantasies And Cuddling.
whole by YouAreMyDesign
Past Relationship(s), Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Dark Will Graham, Will Graham Knows, Vore, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Established Relationship, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Blow Jobs, Alcohol, Come Swallowing, Blood and Injury
Will is breathing heavily, shivering with pain, with ecstasy. "Eat it raw," he breathes. "I want to watch."
Uncovered by HotMolasses
Cannibalism, Rough Sex, Blood, Choking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Murder Husbands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Will and Hannibal have been living together and murdering together for some years. They've had sex, but it's only ever for Will's pleasure. Hannibal won't let Will touch him, claiming he can't lose control. Will has had enough of that, and surprises Hannibal with a piece of his own liver, to draw out the real person behind the mask that he so desperately wants to see.
my thoughts are often not tasty
a place for us by tei
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
While Will waits for news of his death, Hannibal indulges in a fantasy.
They made it for me by zombieboyband
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Asexuality, asexuality but not really seriously not really, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical manipulation, Sex, everything is an excuse for sex, Serial Killers, Therapy, Hannibal is the best and worst therapist ever, Dirty Talk
Alana wants Will. Will wants to want Alana. Will does not want to understand serial killers any more vividly than he already does.
As ever, Hannibal has some suggestions.
"I feel there is a high likelihood that you have not been entirely honest with me about your night terrors," Hannibal adds. "The true extent and depth of them."
"Ding ding," Will says.
"Would you say that your dreams when you are in the place of your killers have a sexual component?" Hannibal asks.
OR: Will is manipulated into dirtytalking at Hannibal about the Ripper.
Loving Tribute by jonnimir
Murder, Blood and Gore, Artistic Murder Tableaus, the chesapeake ripper, death kink, Dark Will Graham, Masturbation, Erotic Horror, Illustrated
Will was, in a word, awestruck by the Ripper.
Wine of Life by sourweather
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Angst and Porn, Violence, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Biting, Teeth kink, biting kink, violence kink, God complexes, will wakes up everyday and chooses violence, i have no choice but to stan
"I've been...thinking a lot about teeth, lately."
Hannibal's amusement became more apparent. "You're interested in teeth?"
"Interested in what they can do," He clarified. "Yours. Mine. Mostly yours."
just fuck me up
Forgiveness by justlikeyouimagined
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Episode AU: s02e13 Mizumono, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Blood, Gore, Fisting, ill-advised wound care, semi-consciousness, Character Death, Not Will or Hannibal
"Deep inside him: a tender tickling. Like worms, having crawled in through his once-gaping wound, have found residence deep in his gut and are anxiously writhing in an attempt to settle in. He groans again, louder. His limp cock twitches feebly at the thought."
Mizumono UA where instead of leaving Will on the kitchen floor, Hannibal has second thoughts and they leave together.
The Depth of Betrayal by jonnimir
Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Rape, Partial fisting, Hannibal has an emotional meltdown, Heavy Angst, Everything Hurts, graphic cannibalism
For Kinktober Day 8: Blood/Gore + "Hate-fucking" + Fisting
After learning of Will's betrayal in Mizumono, Hannibal ends up confronting him earlier than planned. Overwhelmed by emotions, he goes much further than he intended.
spider by YouAreMyDesign
Will Graham/Other(s), Original Male Character(s), Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Will Graham Knows, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Established Relationship, Consensual Infidelity, Bottom Will Graham, Top Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter, Creampie, Organs, Organ Fucking, Necrophilia, Murder, Murder Husbands, Hair-pulling, Come Eating, Come Marking, Possessive Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, organ harvesting
Hannibal likes his kills clean. Will likes them messy.
You Are My Heart (Else I Would Cut You Out) by InfiniteCrisis
Rape/Non-Con, Post-Series, Not Really Canon Compliant, sort of ooc, don't even ask where this came from, Dark Will, Submissive Hannibal, Dom/sub Undertones, Bottom Hannibal, Enemas, Anal Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Consensual Rape, I guess???, Abusive Relationships, mild bloodplay, Self-Mutilation, sex as punishment, Will is actually really angry, Hannibal is the one who needs help this time, THIS IS NOT A HAPPY MURDER HUSBANDS STORY
This first chapter to a longer post-fall story I will probably never write, in which Will is uncharacteristically dark and Hannibal is uncharacteristically accommodating.
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Imagine Your OTP #357
Person A begging a busy person B for cuddles, and eventually A gives in and sits down with them for a little while, allowing them to curl up in their lap and fall asleep. As soon as they're out to it, they carry them to their bedroom and tuck them in tight with a small kiss to their forehead before going back to whatever they were originally doing.
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Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy -13-
Tags: alcohol use, marijuana use, cigarettes, smoking, reckless behaviour, lack of self preservation, anxiety issues, chronic illness, deportation, racism, the fucking Tories, ptsd, super unhealthy coping mechanisms, Down and out Draco who’s friends with muggles, various OC’s, enemies to lovers, angst, mentions of throwing up/vomit
suggested rating: Mature
Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <- Part 12 ||
Draco woke with a gasp, heart racing and blinking fiercely into the darkness as the image of the plummeting fall slowly faded from his mind. He tugged the sweaty fabric away from his skin with a grimace. He remembered that he was still wearing Potter’s clothes and dragged the t-shirt over his head, wadding it up into a ball and throwing it across the room.
He pushed the blanket down to his feet and grabbed the plastic shopping bag he had left on the end of his mattress. Draco left Potter’s baggy joggers in a crumpled pile on the floor, unceremoniously kicking them under the sink. He took another shower, turning the dial for hot water until it wouldn’t go any further, but the water remained pleasantly warm and refused to get any hotter. But at least it washed the sweat from his skin.
He shaved and brushed his teeth, putting his small neon coloured toothbrush next to Potter’s boring blue one. Potter hadn’t been in the flat when he had come back from his day with Elle, and from how unsettlingly quiet everything remained, Draco guessed that Potter was still out. It was mildly baffling what Potter would be doing out in the middle of the night. He hadn’t struck Draco as the type to go out clubbing.
The last things left in the bag were a few items of clothes. Pants, jeans that were too stiff, black t-shirts sold in packs of three and some very soft socks that Elle had found. A few cleaning charms helped make the jeans softer; he added tailoring spells to lengthen the legs and tighten the waist. Draco pulled on a t-shirt and brought the fabric up to his nose without thinking, but it just smelled like new clothes and plastic.
Draco dropped all the extra things on the end of his mattress and walked into the dark living room, using a lumos to find the light switch on the far wall. The light made the room feel emptier than it had been before. He went into the small horseshoe-shaped kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, opening cupboards until he found Potter’s tea.
There were boxes of black tea, bags of fancy green teas mixed with fruit, and a few herbal teas, all shoved haphazardly on the same shelf. Draco went through and smelled each one while he waited for the water to boil, picking a sweet green tea mixed with coconut, lemongrass and ginger. Potter had nearly as many mugs as he did teas. Draco sat on the countertop as he took out each mug and examined it. There was a bright orange Chudley Cannon’s mug, a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes mug, a black mug that had ‘reading is lit!’ written in white, a mug emblazoned with the Gryffindor seal, wrapped in red and gold-
A shrill whistle from the kettle made Draco jump, and he quickly moved it off the heat and turned off the burner.
Draco pushed the other mugs aside until he found the largest one, a green and gold Holyhead Harpy mug. The paint was far more faded and chipped than on the other mugs.
Draco filled the mug, cradling it in his hands as it heated the ceramic until his hands stung. The small digital clock on top of the oven said it was two in the morning. He stared at the clock as the minutes passed, and water inside the mug began to cool before adding the green tea. The steam lifting from the cup was instantly sweetened, but after three minutes of steeping, he added sugar anyway.
Draco idly scraped his thumbnail over the Holyhead Harpies gold lettering, scratching off the faded paint.
This time of night, he normally would have been leaving a bar. Or already left, to spend the night in someone’s arms. Even if he hadn’t found someone to go home with, he would have drunk himself blind and passed out in his own bed to sleep most of the next day off.
He had to wonder if days had always been so long. So empty.
Draco sighed and sipped his tea. It was too sweet.
He cast a stasis charm over the mug as he set it on the counter. He’d come back to it later.
Draco turned on the tv and flipped between the channels. Late night programming was a mix between strange and boring with no middle ground. He chewed on his thumb absently as the different colours and lights flashed across the screen, shifting his weight from foot to foot and back again. He went back to the kitchen, drank more tea, moved it to the coffee table. He sat on the couch but couldn’t stop bouncing his leg.
Draco gave up on the tv and stood up, going to Potter’s room and opening the door. It was empty, which Draco had been fairly certain of, but he was still surprised it hadn’t been locked, cursed or alarmed. It seemed incredibly stupid to him that Potter would trust Draco around his things. It wasn’t as if Potter didn’t care about his things; he had to. Like the photos.
Draco found himself standing in front of the collage of pictures above Potter’s dresser. He searched through them, watching the wizarding ones through their loops one person at a time. Potter had his mother’s smile, the way it crinkled up at the corners of her eyes the same way. Potter’s father’s hair was a carbon copy of his, but a few pictures of the older Potter showed that he could control it sometimes.
Draco blinked at the picture of Sirius Black; they had similar eyes, the same grey. He had been very handsome once. He found one photo of Sirius with a young Remus Lupin. Sirius had his arm slung around Lupin’s neck, pulling him close. At the end of the loop, their faces almost met.
Draco stared at that for a long time, wondering if he was naive in thinking maybe they had kissed. It made him wish he had had the chance to meet his cousin just to have someone in his family he could talk to about… about being different from everything he was supposed to be.
Draco brushed his fingers over that photo before stepping back. He found a copy of the Quibbler on Potter’s nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through it. He was almost certain it wouldn’t have made any more sense if he tried to read it when he was well-rested.
Draco put the magazine back. As he was leaving, he spotted a large plastic basket near the door filled with clothes and plucked a flannel shirt off the top, shrugging it on over his t-shirt. It was soft and warm against his skin.
Draco returned to the couch, laying down on the plush red upholstery and letting his eyes drift shut, half-listening to the people on tv. He must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes again, it was to the piercing light of dawn.
Draco yawned and pulled his socked foot up onto the counter where he was sitting, resting his cheek on his knee as he watched the toaster beside him. Inside, the little metal wires glowed red with heat. Draco let his hand hover over the top, warming his palm.
There was a crack of apparition from inside Potter’s room followed by a faint, tired groan.
Draco levitated the kettle over to himself, pulling off the lid and directing it into the sink. He had to set it down in the bottom before turning on the water and filling the kettle. As he put the lid back on and put it on the hob, turning on the heat with another spell, Draco had to wonder at his own ineptitude. Then again, charm twining, casting and overlapping multiple charms at once with wordless casting was something they were meant to learn in seventh year.
The toaster popped with a horrible metal sound.
“Jesus-fucking-christ!” Potter said in startled surprise.
Draco turned his head to look at Potter, just outside the kitchen. The shadows under his eyes weren’t a patch on Draco’s own, but they were fairly impressive.
“Malfoy? What the fuck are you doing?” Potter asked.
Draco gestured mutely to the toaster.
“I meant- It’s six in the morning,” Potter said.
“I did notice that,” Draco said flatly.
Potter narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to get a better look at Draco, “Did you sleep last night?”
“Take a wild fucking guess,” Draco said flatly, then before Potter could answer, “A few hours, I think.”
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Potter. You were gone all night,” Draco said.
“That was for work. There was an… incident. They needed all aurors on deck,” Potter said.
Draco noticed that Potter was indeed wearing the trousers and dragonhide boots for his auror uniform. He must have shrugged the robes off in his room.
Potter sighed, “And here I was trying to be careful and not wake you.”
Draco smiled faintly, “Sometimes you can be very considerate for an arsehole.”
“And I see you helped yourself to one of my shirts again,” Potter said.
Draco looked down at the flannel shirt hanging open loosely over his t-shirt and felt weirdly embarrassed. “I was cold,” he said, carefully pulling a waffle out of the toaster.
Potter stepped further into the kitchen as the kettle began to whistle faintly and turned off the stove. He picked up the green mug Draco had left next to the sink, still half full of stasis-warm tea.
“It was too sweet,” Draco said.
Potter glanced over at him, “I didn’t think that was a problem for you.”
Draco shrugged one shoulder. He grabbed the knife sticking out a jar of Nutella; the chocolatey hazelnut spread, melting as he swiped it across the waffle.
Potter brow furrowed, and then he took a sip of Draco’s abandoned tea.
“See? Too sweet,” Draco said.
“This is one of the green teas?” Potter said.
“Whenever I made them, they were bitter,” Potter said, taking another drink. “I never understood why she liked them.”
“You have to let the water cool,” Draco said.
“What?” Potter looked up in confusion.
Draco nibbled on the corner of a waffle, “With green teas, you have to let the water cool for a few minutes. If it’s actually at boiling, it scorches the leaves and makes them bitter.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Potter said.
Draco wondered, rather belatedly who ‘she’ was.
“Why does my mug say ‘Holy pies’ instead of ‘Holyhead Harpies’?” Potter asked.
Draco figured the answer to that ought to be fairly obvious, so instead, he asked, “What do you suppose a holy pie is anyway? Do you think the pope would be involved, or could any old priest wave his hands over a pie and make it holy?” He took another bite of waffle and chewed slowly. “...can you eat a pie once it’s holy, or would that be sacrilege?”
Potter frowned at him in confusion, “Wha- Where did you even learn about the pope?”
“There was this one flat I lived in for a while. Really, really shite neighbourhood. This young priest would come around to talk to people. He was trying to get us to come to his church, to save us, but he helped people out even if they weren’t interested. And he didn’t mind answering all my stupid questions. Was rather nice to look at as well,” Draco took the other waffle out of the toaster and began applying nutella.
Potter frowned “...Toaster waffles? With- what are you doing to them?”
“Nutella. Or well, off-brand nutella,” Draco said, “I could only afford a knock-off version with the money I had left.” He held out the waffle to Potter.
“You could use more chocolate in your life,” Draco said.
Potter sighed and begrudgingly took the waffle from Draco.
“It won’t kill you,” Draco said.
Potter took a bite off the corner and conceded, “It’s pretty good.”
“Not really breakfast food, though, is it?” Potter said.
“Where in the rule book does it say that?” Draco asked.
Potter made a face, “I mean, it’s just one of those things. Unwritten rules.”
“They tend to be the stupidest kind,” Draco said, “The only good thing about being an adult is you can eat whatever you like, whenever you like.”
“And sit on countertops apparently,” Potter said.
“It’s very satisfying,” Draco said.
Potter rolled his eyes, “It’s unsanitary.”
“That’s what cleaning spells are for. More waffles?” Draco asked.
“…Nah, I better not. I want to get a couple hours of sleep and clean up before the- the press thing,” Potter said sourly.
“Mr Potter is as popular as ever. Do things ever change?” Draco said.
“Unfortunately not,” Potter glowered.
“Tea?” Draco asked, looking through the cupboard for another mug.
“This is fine,” Potter said, lifting Draco’s old half-finished cup.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Waste not, want not,” Potter said under his breath as he deliberately took another drink of tea.
Draco found a mug at the back of the shelf that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. It had a picture of a kitten on it clinging to a branch. Beside the kitten, it read ‘Hang In There!’ in large comic sans type with all apparent sincerity.
Draco gave the mug a cursory wipe out with a kitchen towel before filling it with hot water and a teabag from one of the nicer black teas.
“He didn’t manage it then,” Potter said out of nowhere.
Draco frowned at him.
“The priest. He was trying to save people but, you- well, you’re-”
“A massive fuck-up. Yes, I have noticed,” Draco said sarcastically. “I would hazard to guess he was trying to save people in the religious sense. Not the drinking themselves to death way.”
Potter chewed on his bottom lip, looking down at the mug in his hands. “So you were drinking even before you were living at that place? The flat I saw?”
“...I think I started drinking when I was seventeen.”
“What?” Potter looked up, startled. “Seventeen?”
Draco absently toyed with the sting on his teabag, fighting down a yawn. “...Hm… might have been sixteen. Yeah... I think that was before my birthday.”
“Malfoy, that’s- I...” Potter’s words seemed to die in his throat.
Draco took the teabag out of his cup and vanished it.
Potter awkwardly looked back down into his mug.
“Weren’t you going to sleep?” Draco asked. He dropped his foot off the edge of the counter, looking around for the sugar bowl. Draco frowned; everything was a mess.
Potter lifted the mug to his lips, finished the tea, and set it in the sink. He grabbed the sugar bowl sitting on the other side of the kitchen and handed it to Draco.
“You should probably try getting some sleep too,” Potter said.
“I have to go to group counselling today,” Draco said.
“Three? Two?” Draco said. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember the exact time but couldn’t.
“Then we can both sleep for five or six hours,” Potter said, “I’ll wake you up by noon. Alright?”
Draco blinked. Potter’s tone made him feel off balance.
“Malfoy?” Potter asked.
Draco nodded silently.
“...Good,” Potter said. He stood there for an awkward moment then left, going into the bathroom.
Draco finished his tea, listening to Potter clean up, going from the bathroom to his bedroom. As silence fell over the flat once more, Draco slid off the counter and went back to his mattress.
💜 Next update will be tuesday pst 💜 Next weeks update will be the Liar’s Department Lightly Haunted Special. It’s not directly related to halloween but it is lightly haunted. and hopefully funny💜
Tags below v (I don’t have a permanent tags list. All tags are of the wonderful people who left messages on the previous 2 parts.)
💜 @pain-changes-everything thank you so much!!!! 💜
💜 @slyther-ink if there is one thing draco is good at, it’s being annoy XD 💜 thank you!!!! 💜
💜 @cats-extra-tails 😆 💜thank you!! 💜
💜 @whenrainbowsend defo a little icky 💜thank you! 💜
💜 @shadowybook draco does have a pretty low opinion of himself :( 💜thank you sooooo much!!!
💜 @devilrising thank you so much!!! 💜
💜 @dewitty1 thank you!!! :D draco needs so many hugs 💜 💜 💜
💜 @justafangirlslikes 😁 thank you!!!! 💜
💜 @cloack 💜 💜thank you!!!!! 💜 💜
💜 @languedor71 thank you!! Elle is great, if headstrong and fiercely independent💜 thank youuuuuu!!!! 💜
💜 @havingaverydrarryday thank you!! 💜
💜 @snarkyship 😍😍😍thank youuuuuu!!! 💜 💜draco needs people, he thrives when he has attention, harry keeps neglecting him D: 💜
💜 @idareyoutotakealook 😆thank you!!!!! 💜 💜
💜 @addicted-to-w0rds thank you!!💕💕💕
💜 @chosenpotter thank you!
💜 @dracodragon19872 thank you! hope you like it ;) 💜
💜 @onomtonks thank you!
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First Time: Belphegor
(Beta read by my sister @neokogirl💜)
You let it slip to Belphegor one night, when curled up in bed with him in the attic, that you had never been with anyone in the sexual sense before. He broke out in genuine laughter at first thinking you were playing with him; who in their right mind would give up a chance to be with you? But when you didn't laugh in return, he blinked a few times and took on a serious look.
"I'm sorry, (Y/N), I didn't mean to make fun," he offered sincerely, "I just didn't think anyone would give up the chance to be with you in that way."
"Well, it's more I didn't feel right with anyone before."
"'Before'?" He felt his pulse begin to speed up.
You smiled gently at him, a warmth radiating off you skin as you took his hands in your own.
"I feel the most at ease with you, Belphie. I...I would really love for you to be my first."
He smiled genuinely at you and leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, pressing you back onto the bed. "All you need to do is tell me when, (Y/N). I would be more than happy to make you feel good."
It...didn't end up being that same night. You panicked when things got heated, and asked for a bit more time. This did lead, though, to much deeper kisses and heavy touching from his end, showing he would be ready for you whenever, and tried to help you feel comfortable. He was eager, but didn't want to rush you.
When the night finally came and you told him you were ready, he locked you up with him in the attic so that no one would bother the both of you. He was excited, his body practically vibrating as he pulled you to lay on the bed, pulling you into a deep kiss.
His hands buried in your hair, holding you close as he licked your bottom lip, begging for access to your mouth. You moaned softly at the feel, allowing his tongue to explore the cavern of your mouth, and he moaned in turn as well, leaning you back on the bed.
With a swiftness, he removed your shirt, leaning forward to capture a pert nipple in his mouth and gave it a generous suck. It made you press up against him, and he groaned around the bud at the sensation of your middle pressing against his own.
He sat back to remove his jacket and shirt, undoing his jeans to let his throbbing cock loose. He took your hand and placed it on his shaft, having you pump him and get a feel of what was going to be inside you soon. He wasn't very girthy but made up for it in length, and your mouth watered as you looked him over.
While you were working his cock, he undid your jeans front, helping you shift up off the bed to wiggle out of them and toss them to the side with his own as well, before placing your hand back on him. His fingers began to run along your rib cage and down your stomach, tickling you slightly before making you gasp when he reached your sex. His fingers worked you in time with your hand pumping him, before pressing further and finding your entrance. He took those fingers and coated them with his saliva before pressing them back, drawing small circles on the taut hole.
"I'm looking forward to making you feel good, (Y/N)," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you once more as his fingers continued their circling.
You whimpered at the odd sensation, enjoying it until one finger slipped in, making you gasp yet again. The stretch felt odd at first, especially when he added another finger, but it soon eased into pleasure as he pumped the appendages in and out of you. You kept your hand pumping his cock as well, smearing the precum on his tip with your thumb and watched as the skin glistened where you rubbed.
"Liking this so far?" he asked, almost teasingly so.
You nodded. "Y-Yes, very much so."
"Ready for the next part?"
Another nod was given, and he soon replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, pressing it slowly against your entrance. He leaned further over you, grasping both your hands in his own as he slowly pressed in, watching you face to gage how slowly he should go.
Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you adjusted to his length. He bottomed out quickly, as he had done his best to prep you and gave slow, shallow thrusts to begin with, making your toes curl at the feeling.
Being filled with his cock felt strange at first, but great at the same time. Soon you were rutting your own hips against his, silently begging for him to do more. He obliged and pulled all the way out of you, only to press right back in fully, making you yelp. He couldn't help but chuckle at the frustrated expression you made, but took mercy on you and did shallower thrusts to let you feel every vein and ridge of his cock.
"Feel good?" he mumbled against your lips.
"Y-Yeah. Please...keep going," you whimpered in return.
He gave you a smirk as his tempo revved up, his thrusts becoming harder with each one after the other. Soon you began to feel your limbs tingle and go almost numb, a new sensation taking over the faster he fucked you. It both scared and thrilled you as it began to build harder and harder, until something in your middle snapped and all you could feel was something you could only call euphoric.
You called his name over and over as he continued to pound into you through your high, until he stilled for a moment, pulling from you quickly to pump his cock and cum in ropes along your thighs. Your own name left his throat a few times as well, until he collapsed next to you, pulling you into a tight hug, not even bothering to clean either of the two of you up.
You could have sworn he had fallen asleep with how silent he was, until he cleared his throat suddenly.
"So, how was that, (Y/N)? Did you...enjoy it?"
Was he nervous all of a sudden? You could hear it in his voice and it made your heart flutter for him. You were over the moon that he cared about you so.
"It was amazing, Belphie. Thank you for being my first."
"You don't need to thank me," he said behind a yawn as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.
"Just promise me you'll only ever share that part of you with me from now on."
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I just noticed that we reached 10,000 Buddie fics on Ao3!! nice job guys!!
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Kinktober day 19
Impact play || overstimulation || glove kink
Mando x f!reader
After the child left with the jedi, Din made good on his promises to you and said your vows to bound you together in the eyes of the mandalorian. A vow that would allow him to be unmasked before you and make up for other promises he made to you under his helm. To kiss you on the lips, cheek, neck, and breasts instead of the keldabe kisses you had both settled with. And most of all, he promised to spend hours with his head between your thighs making up for lost time––a promise he was making more than good on right now.
“Din,” you shouted, coming for the second time in a row––your husband still not relenting on his quest to make up for lost time and to hear you scream again and again. His arms had held you down the first time keeping you in place so he could continue to lick and suck at your clit. The man was a menace when he knew what he wanted and he knew he wanted to hear you come again and again.
After the first wasn’t too sensitive but right now was nearly unbearable and you attempted to move away from his lips. He gives you some sort of mercy pulling away for a bit and you beg him, “too much.”
“Just a little bit more Cyar'ika,” Din mutters licking his lips, hunger set deep in his eyes, “You have two more in there for me?”
Two more?? And he’s back on you, lips giving you a quick kiss on your clit before diving in full fledged licking and sucking at you full force.Your back arches off the cot and it’s so good but too much at the same time. The heat of his mouth, the wetness of his rough tongue, the softness of his lips, and the burn of his facial hair between your thighs. All bringing you to new levels of overstimulation and pleasure at the same time––making you unsure of how you should feel right now.
The mandalorian always made you feel uncertain and questioned how you should feel––he was really good at that especially when you first met him in that one catina. He had strolled into some bare-bone cantina on tatooine, and everyone knew he was a bounty-hunter. Tall broad and covered with weapons and beskar that were there to terrify and protect. You didn’t know what to think when he popped up right next to you to ask the tender, “Do you know anyone willing to do babysitting work?”
Maybe you were drawn to uncertainty because that's what made you go to him and say you would watch the kid for him. You loved the kid––his son whose name you found out was Grogu––and you found out you loved having Mando as a boss, always kind in his own confusing way. He was more of a man that acted with actions instead, making sure rations were stocked with your favorites and to always make sure you had time to rest when you felt overworked––the ship suddenly being cleaned up after you had spent an extra long time trying to get Grogu to settle down.
You hadn’t realized he was trying to tell you he loved you, until your first keldabe kiss where his modulated voice whispered inches from your face that his name was “Din.”
That was Din’s first time telling you he loved you, without even using the words––just telling you his name. He found it hard to be affectionate sometimes, untried with displays of affection as most of his past affairs were quick or just for physical touch to happen in the bedroom. The hard exterior didn’t help––a thing he only liked to strip off minus the helm when you were safe and alone together. But now he could take it off as he pleased with you, committed to being together as one and you hoped the moment you laid eyes on his brown eyes that you would see them for the rest of your life.
Those eyes now look at you from between your legs, watching for your reactions as he takes a long careful lick of your slit making you whine as you near your orgasm. Your third orgasm of the night and your positive that you might combust at some point during the entire affair. You had reckoned it would take a while before Din got any good at this but it turns out he was a fast learner. You had secretly wondered if he had watched videos to prepare for this moment, to learn the maneuvers he would have to do to make you cry out in pleasure.
“Din,” you shout again coming for the third time, thighs clenching with no remorse as you can’t handle the overstimulation, “Stop please––”
Din moans against your cunt, a muffled reminder that he wants you to come a fourth time before he’ll leave your poor pussy alone. You can’t handle much longer as your muscles clench up and stiffened up like a board as you attempt to handle yourself. But when you look at those eyes, it ignites a fire in you, one that wills you to give him what he wants and give him another orgasm. You feel that burn inside you build up and make you hot and sweaty all over, as Din moans into you begging for you to give him what he wants.
It snaps, making you come harder than you have any of the other three times––any other time you’ve ever orgasmed. It makes you gush onto his face, and he makes the most vulgar noses as he slurps up your juices savoring your flavor. He seems to enjoy it more than any ration he has ever received or any of the soups he slurped in private from the comfort of the cabin where he could be without his helmet. It’s vulgar but so delicious as you ride wave of pleasure after pleasure until he releases you, something you're so thankful for as your positive you would have died if he kept going.
Your husband rises from his position between your legs, wiping his lips and giving you that smile your happy to be able to see. You giggle and ask him, “finally satisfied?”
“Yes,” Din mutters, leaning down to give you a kiss, allowing you to taste the bittersweetness he devoured. He pulls away for a second with a hungry look in his eyes that makes your pussy throb, “For now.”
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Some random lazy morning
Up, down, up, down, up, down…. The finger rhythmically brushing the bridge of his nose is what induces Steve’s senses to sluggishly come back to life.
The taste of Bucky when he wets his dry lips. The strong smell of them in the room when he takes a deep breath to help awaken his brain. The blurry smiling face not two inches away from his own when his eyes manage to stay open for more than a blink.
"I’m glad the serum didn’t fix your stupid crooked nose."
The blissful tune when Bucky’s sleepy and hearty voice caresses his ears.
For @stuckybingo SB045 Square B3: "Writing Format: Drabble"
I woke up with this in my mind and felt nice to write 100 silly words. It was so difficult to narrow it to 100 words exactly... I was always 5 words up or down.
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if it's still okay to send sentence starters/mha coffee shots, how would you feel about doing a shindeku with "what, you don't like it?"
I'd feel amazing! Thank you! ^^
“What? You don’t like it?” Deku teased, placing feather light kisses along Shinsou’s neck and ear, grinning when his partner giggled hysterically and tried to scrunch up his shoulders. “Your happy giggles tell me otherwise, Toshi~”
“Stohohohohohooooop,” Shinsou whined, gasping when Deku scribbled in his underarms, tugging at his own binding cloth that was now keeping his arms bound to the bedposts. His giggles came out even harder, freer than ever. “I nehehehehever sahahahahaid I d-dihihidn’t like it…”
Deku smiled. “Good.” Then he blew a raspberry into Shinsou’s neck while still tickling his armpits, making his boyfriend screech with laughter and try bucking him off, but the greenette was using his entire body weight to pin the purple-haired boy down, and Shinsou wasn’t going anywhere.
Shinsou’s heart was racing with excitement. Not being able to stop his smaller boyfriend was so much more thrilling than he’d thought it would be.
Deku squeezed down his ribs and sides, gradually sitting up to settle himself a little better and grin down at his blushing partner, who was giggling steadily and elatedly, barely fighting his restraints at all. “Aww, I think you do like this, Toshi~ You’re not even trying to get away!”
“Shuhuhuhuhuhut up,” Shinsou whined through his snickers, squirming a little but mostly staying put to enjoy the torturously ticklish touches. “Dohohohohon’t tehehehease me, Zuku.”
“But you’re so cuuuuute,” Deku protested, grinning, gradually moving down to lightly press his thumbs into Shinsou’s hip bones, teasing him even more. “How can I stop myself from tickling and teasing you with that adorable blush on your face?”
“N-Nohohohoho! Wahahahait – wait, Zuhuhuhuhuku, dohohohohon’t!” Shinsou pleaded, but it was half-hearted at best and they both knew it.
Deku smiled sweetly down at him. He drilled his fingers in deeper.
Shinsou couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard for so long – or the last time he’d had this much fun.
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the way yall are going out of your way to defend ao3 when people say not to donate to them is funky.
people have extremely valid reasons for not wanting to give that company their money. it’s beyond just fandom racism, it’s fandom bullshit in general and ao3 fails to do anything about it.
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October 19th - Voice Kink (Loki x Reader) / Kinktober 2021
WARNING: 18+, contains adult content
Early morning, just getting out of a long, relaxing bath after the night you had. It eased your aching muscles, and made you feel clean after the filth that you had experienced. Dried and spreading lotion across your body, you glanced at the mass that laid in your shared bed, tittering on consciousness and sleep. You heard his small groans and gentle snores, warming your heart.
In your robe, you laid right beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Gods, he was so beautiful when he slept. Meanwhile you would think that someone was coming in the middle of the night and making abstract art of your hair, sticking in all directions.
Perking up at your name, you felt a certain jolt in between your legs at his morning voice. Deep and rich, it was like melting chocolate on your tongue. There was certain times where you could hear it, waking up and during the act.
When on top, he growled, teeth snarling back as he dominated you. Cock so deep inside, he would explain all the “horrible” things he was going to do to you in the nicest way, his vocabulary coming in handy. He made it sound so sweet.
As you would take over, his pitch was higher, begging for you to make him cum. Music, such music to hear him call you “my lady” or “my queen” as you rode him, submissive hands squeezing and kneading your tits. You couldn't choose which Loki you liked, you adore both versions.
This morning became better as his voice reached your ears. It was gruff, but silky smooth, a sip from a fine red wine. And you could drink him all day.
“Where did you go?” He asked, yawning.
“What did you say?” You inquired, pretending not to hear his question just so he could talk again.
“I said, where did you go?” He yawned, stretching. Damn it, and he was flexing his muscles too? Damn, what did you do to deserve this?
“Making myself ready for you.” You replied, kissing his chest. You wanted to do more than that, thinking of all the bites and love marks you could make on his torso. Bravely, you straddled his hips. Opening one eye, Loki smiled.
“Someone wants to continue from last night?” His voice smokey with a rekindled desire. His hips jerked up to meet yours, the sudden pressure pushed a gasp out of you.
“Yes, as long as you keep talking.”
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