#the long lost lamb has comes back quietly

[simonbrain]

part two to this

-

you awaken the next morning to the smell of something delicious, something familiar. like what your mother makes every morning.

you suddenly jolt up to find the bed empty, the thought of your family sending a wave of panic down your spine as you hastily pull the thick furs off of you and make a break for the front door, almost forgetting about the man who carried you home with him last night.

"oi, where are you off to?"

the deep voice from behind you causes you to yelp in surprise, and the arsehole has the audacity to chuckle.

you could only turn around and stare at him, unsure if you should run. he looks like he could snatch you up in a few strides, even if he gave you a head start. you glance back at the front door and remember just how long it took to come back here; there's no way you'll make it back home without getting lost.

"...my village. i— i need to go see my family, please." your voice breaks as you think about your loved ones, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. you try to blink them away, and the blank look on his face only makes you feel more helpless. he doesn't look bothered in the slightest.

"your village went up in flames—nothing but ashes now. no use going back." he says it so bluntly, moving past you to block your only exit and disregarding the dejected look on your face. you shouldn't be so ungrateful; he saved you from those beasts, didn't he? a poor thing like you would have been torn to shreds by them if they had found you crouched behind that tree. sweet little lamb wouldn't have been shown half the mercy simon showed you.

even if you did manage to escape them, what would be the point of walking around the endless forest in hopes of finding help? you wouldn't have made it. no, the pretty thing looking up at him with glossy eyes would have tripped over her own two feet.

"but— but i—"

your bottom lip quivers when he steps forward, crowding your personal space. he stares you down so intensely that you lose the ability to speak. go on, love, his eyes say. try me.

he huffs softly when you sniffle and look away. sensitive thing you are.

your stomach growls quietly, and that's simon's cue to place a rough hand on the nape of your neck so that he can guide you to the table.

he watches with quiet satisfaction as you eat breakfast, an even quieter interest bubbling in his stomach as he observes you. the sullen expression on your face almost makes him feel bad, but you'll just need to understand that this is for your own good.

as days pass, you find yourself growing more comfortable in your new home. simon (you've come to learn his name) is quite odd. he doesn't reveal much about himself, but he does listen when you ramble about your family, and he feeds you the most delicious things. it's quite a lot to eat, but you shouldn't be surprised; he's built like a damn bull, so it's no wonder he makes enough food to feed four people.

you try not to stare at his back too much when he's in the kitchen cooking, or at his arms when he's outside chopping up firewood, or at his hands when he absentmindedly places a paw on your leg.

however, simon—the mutt—is shameless. he drinks in the sight of you, with or without your knowledge, eyeing any exposed skin with a hunger he hasn't felt in years. he doesn't push you to do anything; he wasn't raised like that, but at the end of the day, simon is still a man. it's in his nature to go a little dumb in the presence of a sweet girl.

he quenches his thirst with a hand on your thigh during mealtimes. his palm against your back, slowly trailing down to rest on your ass as he teaches you self-defence outside. an arm wrapped tight around you as you both lay down for the night.

still, it's never enough.

then one day, when simon returns home after spending several days out, looking more rugged than usual with torn clothes and dried blood on him, he pulls you in for a hot kiss. he doesn't give you a chance to tear up at finally seeing him after so long or question him about what he did while he was away.

he only takes what's all his.

you let out a squeak, grasping at his hands, desperately trying to keep up with how he devours you on the spot, his greedy tongue licking into your mouth. the tension radiating from him is palpable, his itching fingers trailing down to squeeze at your hips, tugging you closer to him. simon swallows up your little noises before pulling away, humming in satisfaction at the dazed look on your face.

"even taste sweet," he muses quietly to himself, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

"you're injured." you frown, finally finding your voice. your face is still burning, but simon just chuckles softly, interlocking his hand with yours and leading you to the table. the quicker he patches himself up, the quicker he can get back to pulling more of those sweet sounds out of you.

[starry-pierrot]

The Fall of The Lamb

Hello hello! Alright I'm getting into angst territory with this one so if you don't like to cry, it's okay :D.

This was inspired by the works of @circuscountdowns , their COTL art has given me life and now you all get to read this bitter sweet story.

Also note that I did take some liberties with the lore of their interpretation and I might not be at all accurate with some detail's here. So please do not try to incorporate anything from this fic into anything that's 'cannon' because it's probably not. Maybe I got a few good guesses in but this isn't an official work by Circus.

With that out of the way-

TW: Eye squishing, blood, stabbing, death.

Narinder awoke on the stone floor of the temple with a jerk, his body back to normal and sore after his fight with Romulus. A groan as he sits up and wipes at his face, noting that he would probably have a few more scars to add to his collection. The wolf had been a surprisingly difficult opponent.

He had put up a good fight but in the end he had lost. 

Narinder picked himself up and dusted off his robes, a shiny glint in the light catching his attention. Seeing the eyeball on the floor he grinned as he picked it up, a smug feeling as he crushed the eye in his palm and let the gore drop to the floor. At least he can take pride in knowing the wolf made it out injured, the Lamb had to be finished with him by now.

Ears flicked as Narinder searched for the sounds of the temple only to notice something.

The whole temple was quiet. 

Something felt off. Wrong. There were no sounds of battle let alone any pained whimpering from a defeated wolf. Narinder wouldn’t admit it but he felt his own heart sink into his stomach and suddenly he was running. Running as he felt the heart in his chest pound a mile a minute as he took corners and ran through doors and soon came to the biggest room in the temple. 

The Lamb had called it their sanctuary, the room having a large open skylight and built around the foliage like an open garden. While they did not hold sermons in this room it was often used as a place to pray and devote oneself. 

Narinder stopped at the sight he came upon. The Lamb’s corpse was on the grassy floor having disintegrated into bones and cloth. The wolf stood nearby looking at his achievement as the red crown sat upon his head, his spear bloodied. 

Suddenly Narinder’s heart slowed down and calmed itself, a sense of painful calmness swept over him. It seems that the time has finally come. They had both known the Lamb can’t be a god forever, that eventually someone would come along and usurp them. Narinder had accepted this fact a long time ago. 

 Composing himself the cat began to walk down the stairs, not taking his eyes off the large godly corpse in the center of the room. All the while the memories they shared together played in his head. 

The first time meeting the Lamb after their beheading, how loyal they had become and how much he enjoyed their banter. The betrayal and pain. Further betrayal of rescuing his family without even consulting him. 

But then there were the good memories. The ones where the Lamb managed to get under his skin and somehow claw their way into his heart. Aym and Baal being brought back to him. All the annoying little quirks that made him laugh. He almost chuckles at the memory of the Lamb soaked in ocean water and covered in seaweed from when Narinder threw them in the water. 

First kisses and nights cuddled up in bed as they talked quietly. Private moments where the two couldn’t get enough of each other and even the ones where they argued. Of holding the Lamb as they wept. 

Their wedding day. Oh how the Lamb had looked so beautiful in their robes, the jewelry on their neck and horns shone brilliantly in the light. What Narinder wouldn’t give to see them like that one more time. 

His heart aches at the realization that this morning had been the last time he would see the Lamb alive. The last deep kiss between them. The last heartfelt words as they had laid in bed for just a bit longer than they should have. 

The last, "I'll see you tonight, love!”

Of course it wouldn’t be the last of them being together in the end, but that didn’t stop it from hurting so much. 

“Ha! Weeping for your fallen god, Witness?” The wolf barked at him as Narinder reached the last step, walking towards the Lamb’s remains. 

“It is nature to be cyclical. Gods die not because they are weak but because they must.” Continuing to walk up to the ribs of his lover’s corpse it didn’t take him long to find what he had been looking for. Oh so carefully Narinder picked up the Lamb’s heart, still somewhat warm but no longer beating. 

“Hey that’s-” Romulus took a step forward before Narinder cut him off. 

“No. That crown may be yours by conquest….but this will always be mine.” Holding the heart against his own he relished in the feeling of it for a moment before walking deeper into the cavern of the ribs. 

“Leave us now.” Narinder demanded while reaching over to break off a pointed bone. 

“Tch-How can I trust you wont-” 

“Leave us.” He demanded once more, his tone leaving no room for the wolf to argue. Not unless he wanted to start another fight. One Narinder knew the wolf would not live through. 

Romulus stared for a good minute seemingly understanding what Narinder had intended to do, eventually turning away with a scoff. The crown weeping on his head. “Whatever.” 

Alone for the final time Narinder settled down against a rib and once more looked into his memories. He could still see that annoying smile that he loved so much on that face. Still sees the eyes that were full of love for him. 

It wouldn’t be long now before they were together again. 

–

“I only want to remind you that, as I have seen your rise, I will gladly witness the fall.” 

The Lamb’s skin was warm as his palm rested against their cheek, seeing that tear fall from their eye. 

“You would stay with me through even that? Promise?” 

–

“Promise.” 

Giving the heart one last gentle squeeze before he lifted the pointed bone up in his hand, a tear falling down his cheek. With a final breath he plunged the bone into the heart he held and into his own. A pained grunt slipped out of his throat as well as more tears. 

Leaning back fully against the bone he waited. 

And soon he was seeing white. 

The lands around him are just the same as they’ve ever been. Once his place of imprisonment now his new home. He no longer felt the heaviness of which the chains had held him here, no longer did he despise the after under his breath. No, it was beautiful and he felt as light as a feather. 

A bleat had him snapping his head towards a figure, a figure dressed in the same robes they wore on their wedding day. Not willing to wait a moment longer, Narinder broke into a run, his own clothing being those from the same day. 

“Narin-” The Lamb didn’t get a chance to say anymore as they were tackled, arms tightly around them as lips peppered their face and soon finding their lips. They couldn’t help the laughter as eventually Narinder pulled back just to look at them. “Hey hey it’s alright!” They soothed as the cat cried into their neck. “Why the waterworks, kitty? We knew this would happen. You promised me.” 

“..Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt stupid Lamb.” Narinder refused to let go and the Lamb didn’t try to pull him off. 

“Ah. I’m sorry.” Their voice was beginning to sound as tight as Narinder’s, a tear falling down their own cheeks. They stayed like that for a long while, just holding each other. 

Soon others had found them, Narinder’s family as well as their cultists. 

And other lambs, goats and ewe's. 

Hand in hand once more Narinder and the Lamb walked into the white fog, to be together again.  

It’s said if you were to take a walk into an old temple, one that belonged to a Lamb you would find the bones of a god.

 And if you took a closer look you would find the bones of one who has been said to have been devoted to the god. 

So devoted in fact that you can feel it around you and if you leave a bundle of camellias you’ll be blessed with long lasting love of the deepest kind. 

-----

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you liked it : ) And please let me know if i missed any they/them pronouns, I get my words mixed up sometimes and I'll gladly fix it!

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Beside the Seaside: Ch 8

previous chapter

read on ao3

Chapter 8

Claire reached out to feel the girl’s forehead, and though Jamie had already told her Faith was running a fever, she was alarmed by just how warm she felt. She had a thermometer in her bag that she would use to get an accurate reading, but no wonder Jamie was distressed.

Faith suddenly shivered with her whole body. “Oh, darling girl…” Claire breathed out. “How long has she felt ill?” She directed this question to Jamie.

“Just since this morning. I’ve kept her back here all day.” He gestured to indicate the space of rooms that belonged just to them, their home within the inn. “She didnae even fight me on it, that’s how I kent she must be feeling bad.”

She had Jamie give her a rundown of Faith’s symptoms and how much she’d had to eat and drink while beckoning Jamie to follow her while she went to put the tea kettle on in his tiny kitchen.

“I’ve been running back and forth all day to check on her, but…” She caught the edge of regret in his voice, the panic.

“Hey.” Claire gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You did just fine, Jamie.” Nothing in life had made her feel more vulnerable and ill-equipped for life than being a parent, so she knew what might’ve been going through Jamie’s head just then, but practicing medicine… that was something Claire knew how to do, something she was quite useful at. And she wouldn’t leave him alone in this.

“Maybe in the morning, we can see if Mrs. Fitz can make her some soup. Or at the very least, run out for the supplies for us.”

“Oh… aye, that’s a good idea. I can make a list for her.”

She felt her heart squeeze at the still-frazzled look of him, but he latched onto the task for all that it simply gave him something to do, to feel useful in his own right.

“Steady on, soldier. We’ll get through this.”

----------

“Ms. Claire?”

“Hi, darling girl.” Claire brushed the girl’s hair from her forehead and felt a rush of tenderness and sympathy as Faith leaned into the touch.

“I dinnae feel good.”

“I heard. I just want to take your temperature before I give you some tea. Can you keep this under your tongue? There you go.”

Faith was docile as lamb, doing whatever Claire asked of her, though Claire knew a good part of that was due to how poorly she was feeling. When a few minutes had passed, Claire took the thermometer and read the results, stepping away to speak quietly with Jamie.

“Her fever is very high. I’d like to give her a bath in tepid water and see if that helps bring her temperature down.”

“Aye. Of course. I should ha’ thought…”

“None of that now, Jamie Fraser,” she chided softly. “It won’t help Faith any to beat yourself up over every little thing.”

“I ken, it’s only… I’ve never seen her this sick before.” He swallowed roughly, his gaze shifting past Claire to the little girl behind her. “But I’ve also… I’ve missed most o’ her life up until this year. So maybe it’s no’ just that she’s that sick, but that I… I dinna ken how to care for her.”

Claire floundered a bit, at a loss for what to say to such disarming honesty. She’d had a front row seat these past few weeks to the confident and wholehearted way that Jamie loved his child. She knew, of course, that he’d lost several years with her because of the war, but seeing the two of them together, one would never be able to tell.

“It’s not just you.” She reached out and patted his arm, trying to put as much comfort and confidence into that one little touch. “It’s… Well, it’s bloody well terrifying being a parent, isn’t it?” That got the hint of a smile out of him, and she felt a small thrill over the victory. “All you want is to keep them safe, but some things are always out of our hands — they get sick, or they run off… Of course you’re scared. I’d be more worried if you weren’t, if I’m being honest.”

Jamie nodded, and stood a little taller. “Alright… Aye, a bath. Come wi’ me.”

Faith didn’t particularly want a bath, and Claire couldn’t blame her, but her medical kit hadn’t exactly been primed for dealing with such an illness — she felt a slight, sudden pang of loss for the small garden of medicinal herbs she’d left behind in Oxfordshire, and pushed all thoughts of that away. She would have to make do with what was on hand, and kept a running list of what she would send Mrs. Fitz out for in the morning. But there was still the long night ahead of them if Claire couldn’t at least make Faith comfortable enough for the girl to get some much-needed sleep. She didn’t want to consider what that would do to Jamie, given the state he was already in.

After Faith’s bath, Claire had Jamie find the lightest nightgown for her and stripped the girl’s bed of the heavier layers of blankets.

“Ye should try and get some rest, a leannan,” Jamie was murmuring to her, his head bent low over the girl’s, when Claire reentered the room.

Faith shifted onto her side, towards the edge of the bed, as if she might’ve been drawing closer to Jamie, only to promptly vomit over the side of the bed, right at his feet.

Jamie’s panicked eyes sought out hers, and, Christ, it was going to be a long night.

----------

“Ye should get some rest.”

Claire shot him a sideways glance. “I could say the very same to you.” She shifted in her chair, uncrossing her legs and recrossing them the other way. “No, I’ll be alright. I don’t want to go all the way back up to my room, in case either of you need anything.” She bumped his elbow with her own, wanting to ease the lines of worry on his face. “Shouldn’t have put me all the way on the third floor after all.”

His sharp exhale of breath was as close to a laugh as she could get from him. It was enough. “Ye can stay in my room.”

There wasn’t even a hint of seduction in his tone, and yet his words, in his quiet, exhaustion-worn voice, made her stomach flip at the possibility of his suggestion. His eyes widened just slightly. “On yer own. I wasnae—”

“I know what you meant. And thank you, but I’m alright. You should go, though.”

He settled back into his own chair, his gaze returning to his daughter, who was sleeping what appeared to be a restless sleep. “No. I’ll stay.”

   ----------

In the morning, the doctor came.

Faith’s sleep had been fitful during the night, disrupted by her cough or upset stomach or the way the fever made her body ache and rattle. And the fever never waned.

Claire had sat down on the sofa — the one where she had sat with Jamie and told him about Frank — at some point during the night and managed to catch an hour or two of unintentional sleep before the sound of Jamie helping Faith to the bathroom woke her again. Jamie, to her knowledge, hadn’t had even a wink of sleep.

Dr. Fentiman’s visit was short, but in that time, Claire formed an opinion of him that was not entirely flattering. She’d known plenty of doctors like him, of course, who weren’t bad at their jobs but still managed to make a fool of themselves with their arrogance. In short, he treated Claire as he would any concerned mother instead of the trained nurse she’d introduced herself as, and still managed to arrive at his own conclusion that aligned with Claire’s suspicion — Faith likely had the flu.

The notion of which had Claire’s thoughts turning towards her own child. She hadn’t seen any signs of illness in him, but there was still a chance he had been exposed before Faith started showing symptoms. And if he hadn’t been exposed, she didn’t want to do so now by going to him.

“I’ve asked Mrs. Fitz to look in on the lad, make sure he’s fed and see to it if he needs anything else. She’ll come find ye if he starts feeling unwell.”

She startled abruptly at Jamie’s words, turning to find him in the doorway after seeing Dr. Fentiman out. “How on earth did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what I was thinking.”

He smiled slightly, looked like he was about to speak and then hesitated. “Ye had the look of a concerned parent is all.”

“And how are you holding up with all of this?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I dinna ken. Ask me again tomorrow?”

“I can do that. Jamie? It’s going to be alright.”

He made a sound of acknowledgement that wasn’t at all convincing.

“Mrs. Fitz has our list, then? She’ll be able to run into town for us?”

“Aye, she will. And Hugh has said he’ll take care of the room cleaning and the laundry for today, so I’ll just need to handle any check-ins and check-outs. Front desk duties, ken.” He said this with a sigh, which spoke more to his physical exhaustion than anything else. Hugh’s help would be invaluable today, as Jamie looked nearly dead on his feet, but it would still be a rough day for him.

----------

Faith was able to keep down some porridge in the late morning. Her temperature dipped to a low-grade fever, and though Claire couldn’t convince Jamie to get some rest himself, she did watch as he crawled into Faith’s too-small bed with her, and read Peter Pan aloud. When Faith drifted off, and then Jamie after her, curled protectively around the girl, Claire left them to their sleep.

Jamie inevitably emerged, splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom, and went to monitor the front desk. Faith didn’t sleep nearly as long as Claire would’ve hoped, and when she woke, it was because her fever had spiked again and she was feeling miserable once more. The morning bled into afternoon as Claire tended to Faith, keeping her comfortable and trying to coax the girl to drink enough liquids, and did her best to keep Jamie from wasting away — he was so focused on Faith that she worried he would forget to care for himself too.

She convinced him to sit and eat lunch with her in his kitchen, Mrs. Fitz having brought over soup for Faith and food from the lunch menu for the two of them.

“Will she be alright, Claire? Truly?” He spoke low and didn’t look up from his plate to see how she took the question, so Claire had a moment for the unexpected emotional blow to land before she could answer. She thought suddenly of a nurse she’d worked with during the war, whose sister’s children had all come down with the flu one winter… the youngest, a little boy, had died.

That won’t be Faith, the thought came, stubborn and insistent.

She put her hand on his arm, and only then did his gaze meet hers, bracing for the worst. “She will, Jamie. She’ll be alright, you have to believe it.” His eyes stayed on hers for a beat longer before he nodded slightly and looked down at his food again.

“Has she ever had the flu before?”

“I dinna ken. She was sick a few times as a bairn, and it always made me fearful. Faith was born early… so small. Did I ever tell ye that?”

Claire shook her head. “Only that your— that her mother died during the birth.”

They’d never really talked of Jamie’s wife, but Claire had a sudden, sharp flair of curiosity for the woman. Wanted to know and didn’t want to know, really, but it seemed as though Jamie needed to speak of it.

“She—” He broke off and seemed at a loss for words, and she wondered, knowing Jamie, if he’d ever told the story before. “It’s a miracle I even have Faith. Kirstin and I were young, hadn’t been married even a year before Faith was born. I didnae ken what to expect, but I… I wanted to be a father.”

That tender admission wasn’t a shock to Claire; she’d seen him with Faith, after all.

“And then I was a father before I was ready — or as ready as ye can be for such things. Kirstin started bleeding, and I rushed her to the hospital, but it didn’t—” He swallowed thickly and didn’t speak for a moment. “Next thing I knew, they were telling me my wife was already gone and I had a wee lass but that she was verra small and weak, and would I like to name her so she could be baptized, just in case?”

“Oh, Jamie…”

“We hadn’t even thought of names. That’s how early she was.”

“So you named her, then? All on your own.”

“Aye.” Jamie looked down at his hands, his gaze turning contemplative. “Faith, because it was what we needed the most of at that moment, she and I. And… I gave her one of my own middle names for hers as well because I wasnae sure I’d ever be able to give her anything else as her father, if she didn’t live long.”

“One of your middle names?”

Jamie only smiled briefly at that and didn’t elaborate, though his smile turned a bit sad before he spoke again. “And Margaret, because it’s a family name on both her mother’s side and mine, and it means pearl. The first time I saw her, when I couldn’t even hold her yet, her skin looked so delicate, like light on a pearl. And Ellen for my mother. She’s… verra stubborn, my mother.” He smiled again at that, fondly this time. “I thought Faith could use some of that. O’ course that has backfired on me, for Faith is still the most stubborn wee thing.”

“What’s her name in its entirety?” Claire asked — for he never said which of his — apparently multiple — middle names he’d given her.

“Faith Alexandra Margaret Ellen Fraser.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Aye. It’s served her well, I think. She came home from the hospital, after all.”

Claire squeezed his hand. “She’s a strong girl,” she reminded him. “That’s the Fraser in her.” Under the table, her foot tapped against Jamie’s, and he swallowed thickly, nodding.

“I hope it’s enough.”

She understood better then, why he’d been so worried — even as Fergus grew, she still saw the wild boy of seven she’d met in a military camp every time she looked at him. But when Jamie looked at Faith, he still saw the tiny baby girl fighting for her life.

  ----------  

“Ms. Claire?”

“Yes, darling?”

Faith didn’t speak any further, simply caught a fistful of Claire’s shirt in her hand and held on. Claire got the hint, and knelt beside the bed, brushing the damp hair away from the girl’s face. “What is it, darling?” she tried again.

“My da calls me that,” Faith murmured, her eyes drifting shut, though Claire knew she wasn’t likely to fall asleep just then.

“Does he?” She was a bit surprised by that, having never heard it from Jamie at least — and caught herself before she said it outloud. She wasn’t privy to their day-to-day lives, only what she saw from the other side of the front desk.

“A leannan means ‘my darling’. It’s Gaelic.”

“Oh,” Claire smiled brightly. “Yes, I’ve heard him call you that many times.” In a matter of seconds, she had somehow become entangled there, with Faith shifting her head to rest on Claire’s arm, a warm and heavy anchor to the girl’s small bed. It was late in the afternoon, and Jamie hadn’t been able to avoid the responsibilities of the inn with the arrival of new guests, so it was just the two of them for the moment.

“Would you tell me a story? A fairy story?”

“A fairy story?” Claire echoed, smiling slightly in her confusion. “Oh, because this is Fairy Hill, is that it?”

“I had a dream once that I flew with a fairy up to her house in the trees. Can you fly, Ms. Claire?”

“Can I—? Faith, I’m not a fairy, silly girl. I’m plain Claire Beauchamp.” But even as she said the words, the memory of a conversation from weeks ago came flitting back through her mind; “Faith has a… a wee fairy, did I hear that right?” Jamie laughed abruptly, and she waited to be let in on the joke. “Aye,” he said at last, shaking his head a little. “Aye, she does. And she adores her, ken, to the point where I think I’m starting to feel a wee bit jealous.”

“Can I go with you?” Faith went on, as if she hadn’t heard Claire. “Only, I think we’d have to bring my da, too. I cannae go without him. Told me once… I couldnae go alone.”

I’m the wee fairy, she thought, feeling something soften in her chest. Faith’s fevered gaze found Claire’s eyes, and she placed the tender skin of her wrist to the girl’s forehead. Would that fever never break? Claire swallowed roughly and moved to extricate herself so she could grab the thermometer, but Faith’s hold on her tightened.

“No. Stay,” the girl pleaded.

“I’m just going to—”

A coughing fit overtook Faith before Claire could make any progress. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. I mean— nevermind what I mean, actually. Here, darling, drink some more tea.”

With that, she gave up trying to retrieve the thermometer. What would it tell her in that moment besides what she already knew? Faith wasn’t getting any better. Instead, she slid her arms under the girl’s slight form and lifted her into her arms, settling back into the bed with her back against the headboard and Faith in her lap. “How’s this? Are you alright?”

Faith simply turned her face into Claire’s chest and relaxed into her. Her whole body was a furnace in Claire’s arms, and for the first time since Jamie had come to fetch her, Claire felt a sense of panic seeping in. What would she do if Faith’s fever spiked? If it dragged on for more days? This precious little girl who had wormed her way into Claire’s heart and hadn’t let Fergus’s guarded walls be any sort of deterrent in making friends with him… Claire had the image in her mind now, too, of a younger Jamie thrust into fatherhood, so terribly alone as he picked out the name he thought his little girl needed. Jamie would never forgive Claire if she— No. She couldn’t let that happen; she’d never forgive herself either, if she did.

“Ms. Claire?”

“I’m here,” she murmured, her voice tight, and rocked slightly with the girl. “You wanted a… a fairy story, but I don’t know any. I’m quite terrible at telling stories, anyway — you can ask Fergus.” Claire brushed the wayward strands of Faith’s hair away from her face. “But how about… a song?”

Faith nodded against her.

“Right…” Claire breathed out, wondering why that idea had seemed less daunting in the moment than a story; Fergus never asked for songs, either. Maybe he would have if he’d been allowed a normal childhood. “My mother used to sing this one to me. Maybe you know it too. It goes:

“Oh! I do like to be beside the seaside!

I do like to be beside the sea!

Oh I do like to stroll along the Prom, Prom, Prom!

Where the brass bands play, “Tiddely-om-pom-pom!”

So just let me be beside the seaside!

I'll be beside myself with glee

and there's lots of girls beside,

I should like to be beside, beside the seaside,

beside the sea!”

She swayed with Faith in her arms as she sung, her voice barely above a whisper, and as the girl melted into her, she felt her throat tighten. Faith let out a raspy sigh, and it was all Claire could manage not to burst into tears. “I do like to be beside the sea… with you.”

“Ma?”

Claire’s heart leapt to her throat and looked down to catch Faith’s fevered gaze.

“Are you… my ma?”

“Yes, darling,” she agreed — for what else could she say in that moment? — and smoothed a hand over Faith’s brow. “How are you feeling?”

“M’tired.”

“You need your rest, so you can feel better.”

“Then we can… go to the beach?”

A tear spilled down Claire’s cheek, dropping into Faith’s hair. “Yes,” Claire whispered tightly.

“Need sun lotion…” Faith murmured, so seriously that Claire couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound came out wet and startled.

“Yes,” she pressed a kiss to the crown of Faith’s head. “We have to protect you from sunburn, dear one.”

----------

She managed, somehow, to put a tight lid on her fear for Faith by the time Jamie had been able to step away from the front desk for the day. Another night of facing the unknown with Faith’s illness stretched before them. It felt at least that they were in this together; Jamie trusted her and followed her lead, but he’d also listened whenever she explained the reasons behind her care of Faith — brewing willow bark tea to help with pain and fevers, or which foods would be easy on Faith’s stomach, which would help her replenish the fluids lost — and began to put those things into practice.

Mrs. Fitz also brought them supper, knocking on the door that led out to the inn.

“Claire?”

She looked up from washing the ceramic tea cups Faith had used that day to see Jamie standing by the cracked-open doorway.

“Fergus wants to say goodnight to ye.”

She busily dried her hands and went at once. She’d caught a glimpse of him earlier in the day, curled up in the study with a book, and that had been enough to assure her he was fine and not falling ill without anyone’s notice — and she knew Mrs. Fitz, grandmother extraordinaire, would keep him in her care — but she had still felt her son’s absence all through the day, a physical ache blooming in her chest every time her thoughts tugged in his direction.

He was waiting on the other side of the front desk with Mrs. Fitz, and she squeezed the door handle to keep from running over to him and hauling him into a hug. “Salut mon chéri,” she murmured, and felt her insides turn to mush with his smile. Oh, she’d missed him, and she told him as much. He acted offended when she asked him if he was minding Mrs. Fitz, and promised he hadn’t been up to any mischief.

“I read and I practiced chess today, Maman, that is it. Oh, I did go for a walk, but Mrs. Fitz made me promise to stay in sight of the inn.” He said this last part as if it was a great trial to be looked after, and as if only weeks ago, he hadn’t disappeared for several hours.

“Well, thank you for appeasing her, darling,” she muttered wryly, and Fergus beamed at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today.”

“Is Faith going to be alright?”

Claire felt her breath snag in her throat. “She’s pretty sick, but we’re taking good care of her.”

Fergus nodded solemnly at this. “You will make her feel better, Maman,” he said, as if there wasn’t any doubt. “Tell her,” he then said, in slow, halting English, “I hope she feels better soon.”

Tears spilled silently down her cheeks, but she smiled through it and nodded to him. “I will tell her you said that,” she agreed, also switching to English, and didn’t miss the way Mrs. Fitz was surreptitiously reaching for her handkerchief to dab her eyes.

“Don’t stay up too late, and make sure you have a bath tonight.” She couldn’t help the fussing — the only thing she felt like she could do for him at the moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Maman.”

She blew him kisses through the doorway and watched as Mrs. Fitz brought him into the dining room, where he would undoubtedly get his fill to eat and likely extra servings of dessert too. He was alright — and would be alright; she didn’t need to worry over him. And he’d intentionally spoken in English for the first time in months, with the promise of his message to Faith that the days of a friendship through a language barrier would be behind them once she was well — and she would be well, there was no other choice. Claire’s vision misted over, and she pushed away from the door to share that message with Faith.

----------

Late in the night, Faith’s fever finally broke. The girl had roused from sleep to use the toilet and seemed rather more alert than Claire had seen her in days. She darted out a hand to feel the girl’s forehead, bracing for the burn of her skin that felt so familiar by now, and instead felt only an ordinary, unalarming warmth.

“How do you feel?”

Faith sighed a bit impatiently. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Of course,” she said quickly, breathlessly, holding back a laugh, “I’m so sorry, darling. Go on.”

Once the bathroom door had snicked shut, she looked at Jamie, and the laughter slipped free from both of them — delirious, sleep-deprived, relief-infused laughter that almost had Claire falling out of her chair and into Jamie. His arms came out to steady her, and held on, even as the laughter died down. She didn’t pull away.

When Faith returned, she crawled back in bed and let Claire take her temperature, just to confirm their hope. Claire saw the level holding firmly at 97.8 ℉ and felt positively giddy from it, but it was nothing compared to the visible joy on Jamie Fraser’s face, as he tucked his daughter back into bed, kissed her little face, and murmured a prayer there against her cheek. “Get some sleep, a leannan, so ye can feel even better in the morning.”

  ----------

Claire woke in an unfamiliar room with no memory of falling asleep in the bed she was currently sprawled in. Where she had fallen asleep was in the uncomfortable chair at Faith’s bedside, out of necessity. She curled onto her side and turned her face into the pillow with a sigh. She hadn’t the slightest clue what time it was, foggy and disoriented from how little she’d slept the last two days, but as she breathed in deep, the sudden knowing that this was Jamie’s bed — it smelled like him — triggered the hazy recollection of being carried by sturdy arms, and leaning into the warm wall of the man, smelling just the same as the bed linens.

She blinked slowly against the bright sunlight. Jamie had carried her to bed. She had slept still dressed in her blouse and skirt, but she caught sight of her shoes placed neatly on the floor by the foot of the bed. An image popped into her head, unbidden, of Jamie carefully removing her shoes before tucking her in.

Jamie, who had been out of his mind with worry for his daughter the last few days — the kind of fatherly love that still poked at a raw wound in Claire just to see it.

Jamie, who still had the presence of mind to care for her in the midst of that.

Jamie, who made her heart simply ache sometimes.

Claire threw the covers off and sat up, her gaze sweeping over the sparse but tidy room. The house — the inn — was quiet, and she thought that to be a good sign. No doubt Jamie had kept his vigil over Faith even after her fever had broke during the night, and if she’d taken a turn for the worse, Jamie would’ve come to wake Claire.

She still felt the tug to go to them and see for herself that all was well, so she slipped on her shoes and visited the washroom to relieve herself and splash cold water on her face.

Faith was still sleeping soundly. Next to her bed, Jamie had somehow managed to fall asleep in the chair not made to comfortably accommodate his large form. Claire doubted it was at all a restful sleep that he had found.

She tiptoed into the room and sidled up to Faith’s bed, careful not to disturb either Fraser, and laid a gentle hand on Faith’s forehead. The girl was warm from sleep but not alarmingly so. Relief bloomed anew in Claire’s chest. She eased away and then froze when she caught Jamie’s gaze. He was still wound tight with concern, and she wanted to reach out and smooth the worried crease from his brow.

“She’s alright,” she whispered and then nodded her head towards the door. He followed her quietly out of the room. They lingered in the doorway, each leaning on a side of the frame, and Claire felt almost giddy with relief now. “We’ll keep an eye on her, she might spike another fever, but I think she’s through the worst of it. And it’s good that she’s resting now. Her body needs it.”

“Claire…” His voice broke on her name and she felt her whole body orient towards the sound. She folded her arms tight across her chest, but wanted very much to reach for him. “I cannae— I cannae thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything. It’s—” She stopped herself from saying it was her job, because that wasn’t quite true. But Jamie didn’t need any clarification to understand, it seemed.

“Well, maybe no’, but I am grateful to ye then. I’m grateful Faith had such a skilled healer at her bedside.”

Claire felt a slight thrill at that word — healer — and smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. “I meant to tell you… when Mrs. Fitz first arrived and I extended our stay here — I want to start working as a nurse again. I’ll need a way to support Fergus and myself, but I—I don’t see why I couldn’t do that here rather than back in England. I thought I might use these next few weeks to try and secure work here, and then a more permanent place to live if that—”

She stopped abruptly when Jamie’s warm, calloused hands gently framed her face, his whole body suddenly crowding into her space. Claire had just a moment of recognition for what was about to happen. Her breath hitched in anticipation, and then Jamie’s lips met her own.

[re-writing-h]

Satan in your eyes

When you called, I came.

Whatever you asked, I answered.

But in the end, I’m Satan in your eyes.

Bitter end to our story.

All promises, you broken them.

And you hurt someone, very dear to me.

After all, you put your blame on me.

The praises change a beating.

I’ve tried to explain all the time.

I’m not God or a hero.

But now, I’m Satan in your eyes.

When in the reality, I’m only a piece of humanity.

[messwriting]

Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab:  Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader 

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose​ for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now. 

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT.  CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT.  DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink.  MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl. 

Word count: ~4.4k 

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it. 

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?” 

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table. 

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it. 

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

 “It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap. 

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too. 

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous. 

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder. 

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention. 

 “I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins. 

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs. 

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple. 

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips. 

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in. 

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination. 

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides. 

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority. 

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

 “Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again. 

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing. 

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits. 

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

 “All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.” 

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table. 

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming. 

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication. 

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead. 

 “Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker. 

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.” 

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body. 

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well.  He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!” 

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes. 

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth. 

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute. 

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?” 

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?” 

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls. 

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance. 

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.” 

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…” 

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white. 

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks. 

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.” 

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe. 

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.” 

Because you love everything about that. 

[inviouswriting]

Feathers

Simeon x Fem!Reader

Smut.

If you squint a plot is forming! I hate spoiling my content so you have to read it to know where I am going.

Warning below the cut.

Contains - A breeding kink, corruption, shower sex, oral, graphic depictions of said sex. All that good stuff, it is smut~

Feathers.

You feel great warmth behind you, a calm and gentle warmth that you’ve come to love as much as the person that radiates it. Hazy you blink your eyes open, and can hear an incessant buzzing from your DDD, you groan and shift the room a bit colder than you remembered. Making you seek the warmth of the angel beside you. Simeon tightens his arms around you hugging you to him.

The previous night you spent with him, giving a group message to everyone that you would be staying over with Simeon. Everyone had a little something to say, but didn’t argue as you would be back in the afternoon. You take a moment to admire the sleeping face that is Simeon, how he seems peaceful even here. You card fingers through his hair, and seek out his warmth from the cold room.  

You reach for your phone to peek at it, Asmodeus has been sending messages along with Mammon. You smile to yourself, but the messages were not the reason you grabbed your DDD, you quietly and carefully tug the cover off of Simeon’s shoulder enough to expose his face. Keeping your phone silent you take a picture of him, to keep to yourself. Or maybe set it as your wallpaper. He looks so serene, and you love that he finds his comfort in your arms so easily.

Another picture wouldn’t hurt, just as you take a picture of Simeon, you catch an eye open looking directly at you. You freeze and shrink down under the covers.  

“Where you going lamb? If you wanted to take pictures, you can.” You blush when he rests his head back onto the pillow and gives you his gentle smile. His eyes lowered, to focus on the camera. You take a few more pictures of your angel, before setting your DDD away, ignoring the calls from Mammon. You’ll get an earful for ignoring him later, but here in the blanket of morning with Simeon you didn’t care.  

Simeon raises his hands to your face and cups your cheeks, he presses in and gives you fresh and sweet pecks of kisses. You feel those hands leave your face to slip down under the covers to touch over your skin. Simeon glides his fingertips over the softness of your back and down to the top of your rear. You feel him smooth the flat of his hand against your skin and slips it down along your thighs feeling the ultra soft skin of your hip to mound.

“You didn’t get enough last night?” You tease him, Simeon only smiles more, and you part your legs for him allowing his fingers to trace your folds.  

“How can I ever get enough of you?” Simeon asks, while moving to strewn one of your legs over his hip. You bite your bottom lip feeling his fingers slip pass your folds and trail circles around your clit, checking to see if you are as eager as he is for a morning romp before everyone else is awake.

“Ah.. Simeon... I...” You catch his eyes with yours, and plead with him, wanting more of his touch.  

“Yes love? What would you like?” You wonder how an angel can act so sinful sometimes, even more as those fingers slip inside, you jolt when they curl, slowly very slowly he pumps his fingers. Enough for you to start feeling hot, you raise your head to meet him for a kiss. He picks up his pace with his fingers, and you muffle any moan into the kiss.  

Simeon swallows your moans, pushing you onto your back nudging your legs further apart as he shoves the blankets down off you both. You had barely realized how hard he is, judging by how he is already leaking with precum and throbbing from your sighs and moans in his ears and against his lips. Simeon pulls from the kiss to have at your neck until you gently push his head off.  

“Lamb?” You look up at him, and give him a smile of your own.

“I want to please you too for a bit. Will you let me?” He is confused until you reach a hand down to stroke his cock. Fingers tracing along the underside making him shiver.

“Only if I can do the same.” Simeon moves to lay on his side, head towards your groin, having you strewn your legs under his arms. You follow the way he is laying on your side and busy your mouth with kissing along his hip down so you can start delicate licks and kisses along his shaft. You laugh a little at how much he responds to your tongue on his tip, feeling it twitch as you circle the head. Your hands go down to pump the shaft and roll the sac below feeling him tense as he is more turned on than he wanted to admit.

Simeon focuses on the sensation of you pleasing him, his fingers pumping slowly into your pussy, even as he lowers his mouth to it, delving his tongue along your folds, spreading them with his fingers so he can push his tongue into you without a second thought. You taste sweet to him, and it takes a few tentative licks before he is pushing his tongue deep, like the manner he does when he kisses you. Swirling his tongue right, and if he didn’t have your legs pinned under his arms, he would have felt them lock around his head.

You trail kisses along the side of his shaft afraid to put him in your mouth in case you bite down. You nibble along the underside of the glands, then sweep your tongue across the tip. You note how dark pink the tip is from the brown of his shaft, you give fleeting pecks over the tip even pressing your tongue to the slit for more beads of precum. You are rewarded with sighed moans against your folds and Simeon thrusting his tongue into you, even with his hands gripping your thighs tighter, his fingers keeping your lips apart lapping at the hole he loves to tease.

“I can do this all day... just hearing you sigh and moan my name.” You hear his voice, and feel your face heat up.

Simeon shifts you both, and sits up, keeping your head to suck on him, while he encourages you to wrap your legs around him. You note the angle makes you take his cock deeper into your mouth, and relax your throat to take him further. You suck while Simeon uses his fingers with his tongue to pump both into you. You had sparked a frenzy in him, and you wonder how much longer before he loses his patience. You’ve only seen him give into his desires a few times that almost got you in trouble.

You didn’t have to wait long after a long lick you place from balls to tip following the veins to the very, very sensitive side of his tip. Simeon tugs your mouth off of him, and you are arranged on your side. Simeon lifts one of your legs, and holds it as he guides his cock into your waiting dripping core. With all the sex you two have had over the previous day half, you didn’t need to adjust.

Simeon thrusts as soon as he feels you squeeze around him, he is wild with his thrusts, you grab for a pillow to muffle your voice, aware that there are others in the Purgatory Hall again. You notice something about Simeon’s eyes as you peek up at his face. He is focused on your face, but his eyes seem hazy lost in pleasure.

“Are you alright Simeon?” Your voice breaks through the fog in his head, and he rests his head against your leg, fingers tapping your ankle as he regards you with a loving look.

“You feel so good, I got a little lost in the feeling.” Simeon lets go of your leg in favor of lifting your hips up to his, his hands finding purchase along your waist pulling you into each thrust he makes. You seek out the pillow hugging it to your face muffling your cries as best, until Simeon pulls it away from your arms, replacing it with himself. He lowers his head down and claims your lips in a passionate kiss.  

You wrap your legs around his waist holding onto him, letting him take full charge over you both. Simeon nibbles your bottom lip parting from the kiss, he feels incredible, but almost like his whole being is full of love and warmth. Something different than what he usually felt.

Simeon hears you cry his name in the middle of your kiss with him, he feels different with this session. Like your souls were binding together, you open your eyes to be greeted to the blue eyes that are inches away from yours. He lowers his eyelids as he parts from the kiss with you to press soft kisses over your face. One of your hands seeks his and laces your fingers together.  

You feel him move harder, his movements jerky and uneven. He was going to come soon, and you felt eager to feel him do so. You rock your hips up into his thrusts, you tighten your grip on his hand holding yours, he matches your grip. Simeon presses his forehead to yours, and you close your eyes finding his stare too intense.  

“Open your eyes please.” You feel your face burning, and you do so. You open your eyes and he thrusts in at an angle that makes your face twist up in absolute pleasure.  

“Is... it okay inside again?” His question is specific, and you nod. He sought permission each time before he came inside. You both know there is a risk to it, but you also remember the time you two spent caring for those little demons. How happy he looked caring for children, you wouldn’t mind if it is his child you carry.

“What would happen if I manage to get pregnant from all this?” You catch Simeon off guard with your question, you look up at him shy, and he only kisses you repeatedly. The feel of him a lot different, you felt him twitch from the question. Like he desperately wants to do this, the idea, the possibility. What it might spell for him as an angel.

“I will be by your side every step of the way. Are you afraid of that idea?” You think it over, he had slowed his thrusts down to a slow roll of his hips, almost pulling out of you, if you had second thoughts. You use your feet to dig into his hips to pull him back. He indulges with a gentle thrust in, changing the pace from heated and wild to loving, and sweet.  

“It scares me a little... would you regret that choice? I mean.. Lilith..” You are her descendant, Simeon caresses your face and plants little kisses over your face as he loves you more gently now. You arch underneath him, the angle being what he needed to reach even deeper, hitting a spot deep within that makes you tremble in his arms.

“If I fall as a result of loving you. Then I will gladly fall for you, endlessly. I chose love. You ask me if I regret falling in love with you, and creating a life. Never would I regret it, in fact I look forward to it.” Simeon presses his cheek to yours, mouthing kisses till he tugs on an ear with his teeth.

“Does it hurt if you fall?” You never want to cause him pain.

“Only at first, Lucifer and the others said their fallings only hurt during the change. If they were constantly in pain, we would see it right? They don’t regret their choices either.” You smile up at him, and place your hand on top of his lacing fingers from behind his hand. He picks up the pace longer drawn out thrusts, focusing on the pleasure now without worry of whether he was slipping too far away from above.

Your voice drawn out louder till he silences you with kisses, moans between them as he hits just right. You feel him so sure of himself, your heart full and your emotions overwhelm you. You feel tears at the edges of your eyes, a loving pressure in your belly builds till Simeon holds your hips down to keep you from lifting so much off the bed. You hear his sighed moans, he releases more of them as he chases his orgasm. Your hands find his back, you add fine lines to the center of it, you mind his shoulder blades, he had expressed how sensitive they are, you remember they are sensitive. You glide your hands down them and rub them.

What greets you is the sight of the angel lost to bliss, eyes closed as he pants and pushes down harder to you. You reach your orgasm first after a series of thrusts makes you lose control. You rub your fingers into his shoulder blades and earn his voice out louder than you have heard him before. His face flushed pink as he pushes deep and spills his seed against your cervix.  

Simeon promptly collapses on top of you, hugging you underneath him, his arms slipping beneath your back to hold you directly to him. You feel him press his face into your neck and nuzzle your cheek with his own. He keeps himself pressed to you, within you, he kept laying kisses everywhere his lips could reach. You keep your hands roaming on his back soothing the scratches you left, he practically is purring with affection. You shift underneath him feeling uncomfortable, but soon realize from all of your rubbing on his back he had gotten hard again.  

Simeon moves his head so he can look you in your eyes, your rubbing on his back had done something to him. He wanted a lot more that you had to offer. You offer a grin to him, and he lowers his head to kiss you again. He moves slowly, you are still sensitive to his touches and thrusts. Something felt more intimate when he was tender like this.

“Simeon... shower.. Please?” You ask, and Simeon nods collecting you into his arms. You both could get more wild with water, without the interruption of anyone listening in. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you and keeps you from slipping out of his arms. He manages it, and you laugh the entire time even as he pins you against the shower wall. A mischievious grin to Simeon’s lips when he turns the water on, you yelp at the cold of the water, seeking out his warmth. He gives you mercy turning to shield you from the spray, as he keeps you pinned between himself and the wall behind you. You roll your hips down, soon lost to his movements again.  

Simeon soon tires of the position, mostly trying to keep you from slipping, so he pulls reluctantly out. Guiding you down to your hands and knees. You look at him over your shoulder, questioning him with this position.

“Trust me.” You were about to say something, only to have Simeon push back inside of you; making up for the time he missed. The angle allows him deep, and your eyes widen when you feel him push as deep as he gets. The slap his his balls against your clit sends you spiralling into pleasure even with him grinding a few times. He uses more power in his thrusts this way, and he also might enjoy seeing you bowed before him, though the bowing you were doing was extra sinful as you bite into your arm to suppress your cries.  

Simeon keeps it lovingly in his unique way. You never feel sore, but what surprises you is how he leans over the top of your back. Arms wrapped around you from behind as he thrusts. Like he is mating with you now, you became aware of feathers surrounding both of you. You are shocked when you see white feathers with green tips, you made the connection to his feathers from his quill he uses. How you had never seen a feather like that before, now you understood where that feather was from, and Simeon can see the surprise in your face of him showing his wings this way.

You wish you could touch them, would he let you. Simeon can see the question in your eyes, and curls a wing down enough for you to touch a wing. Your fingers thumb through the edges of the flight feathers. You feel your angel though buck harder into you from touching a part of him he doesn’t reveal to just anyone.  

Simeon lowers his head to the nape of your neck, he kisses over it murmuring promises to protect you. Placing a love bite directly there; you didn’t realize how close you were to another orgasm until he bit you. Your hands clench, and Simeon takes your hand off his wing to keep you from pulling a handful of feathers out.  

“Again... once more.. My lamb.. Once more. I want you to cum for me. I want you to accept me into you...” Simeon trails off in his words as he snakes a hand underneath you both and rubs your clit, you whine at the sensitivity your body is feeling. How alight you feel from his touch alone, you focus on the pressure in your belly, ignoring the water feeling colder as you suck in a breath of air to hold. Simeon’s thrusts are harder, and you feel that swell.  

Moan after moan is torn out of Simeon his hands back at your waist, and he had straightened up to have a better angle to work with. His thrusts a lot harder, and a lot deeper, driving himself till the tip of his cock bumps your cervix enough.  

“A little more... just a little more...” You hear him sigh under his breath, he is burying his face into your hair, and listening to your moans as they fall from your lips. You scratch the tiles under your fingers as you feel a much stronger orgasm after the short one you had. Your eyes widen and they brim over in tears at the sensation that floods you of feeling so loved by Simeon. You don’t miss the groan he makes as you tighten around him, making it harder for him to thrust in.

Simeon keeps going through your orgasm reveling in how hot and wet you are around him, how you tighten and milk him of his cum into your body. You feel kiss after kiss on your neck and maybe a few bites as he spends himself within you.  

You lie there underneath your angel, you reach a hand to his feathers and glide your hand across them, seeing how they sheen under the water and light of the sun peeking into the bathroom. You focus your eyes on the very ends of his feathers, the faint green at the tips meeting white. Beautiful but your eyes focus a little more and see at the bases a touch of grey almost black. You ignore it for now to not bring it to Simeon’s attention during post-coital.

Simeon pulls himself free of your body, and reaches to turn the heat of the water up more as he begins washing you and himself up. You relax as you see him will his wings away, but his halo remaining. He looked every part of an angel, he is an angel. You remind yourself that he is an angel. Something that is supposed to be sacred and revered with reverence. Yet here you are pulling one down the paths of sin and worry about corrupting someone so pure.

Simeon catches your gaze on the halo, and only beams brighter towards you. You finally have strength to sit up, being pulled into his arms, he washes over your hands while you use the foam to touch his face rubbing it and washing him equally. He lets you scrub his back, you snicker at his ticklish fidgeting, even as you are careful over the scratches you left.

When you both finished with the shower itself, Simeon turns the water off and wraps you both into a towel long enough to do so. You bury your face into his chest, and here he can tell something is off.

“Lamb?” You look up to his face, poking your head out of the towel he has wrapped around you both. You shake your head off the thought of the dark coloring his wings were getting. You hoped that was a natural color with him.  

Sensing your thoughts, Simeon does something you were not prepared for and flicks your nose. You clasp your hands over the end of your nose, and look up at him indignant about being flicked only to meet a stare you’ve seen with directed at Satan and Beelzebub. A little bit of anger hidden behind his calm eyes.

“You need to stop thinking like I am regretting my choices... I love you... even if it means I can’t return to the Celestial Realm. I choose you. I choose us.” Simeon’s voice has that edge at the beginning. You nod frantic, when his voice softens, he cups your face and keeps you staring into his eyes.

“I know you noticed. I won’t lose my wings. Remember the others still have theirs?” He thumbs away a tear that streams down the edge of your face. When did you start crying.

“I am afraid.. You'll blame me for it... or others saying y-” You are stopped by that raise in his eyes, his palms on your cheeks. You keep your eyes on Simeon’s not wanting to look away, more you can’t look away. The gentle touches on your cheeks, his eyes betray his emotion, and before you know it he takes both sides of your cheeks and pinches them pulling just enough.

“Not another word about me potentially regretting being with you. If I so much as hear you say otherwise I will not only pinch your face, but I will make sure you know nothing other than my love till Diavolo can hear you scream my name in his castle. If I wasn’t sure about our path together. I would never have been with you from the start. If this means I lose my power to see into the future, I’ll be glad for it. I was miserable... it’s too quiet up there... I’ve grown to love it here with you, the brothers, everyone. I will not have you speak as if I regret falling in love with you. I do not regret it, nor will I ever. Now... understood? Or do I need to keep this up?” He tugs your cheeks again for good measure, and you shake your head no at questioning it further. He lets go only to cup your face and kiss all over it in apology for pinching them.  

“Mean...” You pout, turning your head only to earn a kiss against your cheek.

“Strict.” Simeon corrects you. You wonder if he truly means everything he says, about not regretting his choices. People can say it, but meaning it once it happens. Simeon pulls you further into his arms, enjoying the feel of you against him.

“We should get dressed so we can make breakfast, and be decent before Luke bangs on our door.” You move closer into his arms even at his urging to move.

“A little longer like this please. I want to feel you like this a little longer.” You wind your arms around Simeon pressing your face into his chest. The soft scent of mint waifs from the shampoo and soaps he uses. You feel him tighten his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours.

“Just a little longer. Don’t blame me if I want to take you again before we get dressed.” You pinch his hip for the comment, and smile into his chest. He guides you both from the bathroom to his bedroom to sit with you in his lap. Doting affection on your face, and feeling you in his arms.

You both playfully swat at each other when getting dressed. You caught Simeon with a towel, and he got your back with a smack on your rear that will be hard to sit through in classes. You finally pick up your DDD and answer the millionth call from Mammon. Assuring him you are okay, that you were spending time with Simeon without interruptions.

Simeon watches you calm the avatar of greed down with exasperated sighs of whatever he was going on about. You remember to pack the apron you were given by Asmodeus, to return it to him. It had been cleaned thoroughly.

You sit next to Simeon during breakfast, leaning on him in a contented way. Somehow you feel different from the romps you had this morning. Perhaps still riding on the high of all the love shared from the angel. A gloved hand rubs your shoulder, and you look up to Simeon.

He gives you a more reassuring smile as he lets you lean against him. Resting that way in blissful contentment.  

“Must be extra tired from all your late night studying.” Solomon teases you both from across. Your face darkens pink along with Simeon’s there was getting nothing pass him. He knew what you two were up to without fail.  

“Y-yeah. Simeon kept me awake with a few too many questions.” You play it off for the sake of Luke in the room. You move closer into Simeon’s side to avoid further questions. You were already bracing your mind for the millions coming your way from the demon brothers. Lucifer wouldn’t pry too much without warning you. Asmoedus though, he would be waiting for you on your bed for you to spill every single detail of your nights with Simeon between and out of the sheets. Maybe you could ask to stay another night with the angel.

After breakfast you find yourself alone with Simeon before you would walk to RAD, you had to be sure of something.

“Simeon? May I see your wings again?” You ask him, and he nods closing his eyes, he uncurls them, letting you touch them dry. They were a lot softer than you thought they would be. Almost like eagle feathers but a lot softer. You smooth your hands through them, sitting in Simeon’s lap. You look through them, preening them almost for the angel. Your eyes find the one that caught your attention when you were underneath him.

The one that had a black base to it, you see it had darken a little more. You frown, and look at Simeon. He only regards you with an unwavering smile.

“It’s begun already.” He says, he even looks through some of his feathers noting how some have a distinct coloring. Still greenish blue at the tips but almost gradient between black to white.  

“I...” You look down. You hadn’t mean for him to actually be falling, corrupting. You had heard Luke talk of it like it is such a bad thing to fall.

“What did I say earlier? My love? Don’t make it sound like I’ll regret this.” You hear him, and lower your gaze down.

“But you are falling... and it is my doing.” You feel yourself flipped and the surface of the bed below you now. You look up as Simeon hovers over you, his hands on either side of your head.

“And I told you, I chose this path for myself. The only thing that would make this terrible for me, is if you suddenly do not love me as deeply as I do you.” You feel kiss after kiss placed on your face.

“I just... hope it doesn’t end like Lilith.. Where you are..”

“Enough Lamb..” You look up at him. His tone alone makes you keep the remainder of what you were about to say swallowed on your tongue.

“That won’t happen. You know the cause of Lilith and why she was persecuted for her death. She did not regret her falling. Nor will I. Now.. I believe I should make good on my promise. That if you brought this up, I will make you scream till Diavolo can hear you.” You feel your heart full, you still harbor a little bit of guilt, but Simeon chose you. You also wonder how pretty his wings might be, will they still have their tipped edges with blueish green? Will he use one as a new quill.

All thoughts end when Simeon’s hands sneak under your skirt.

“Simeon! The others will hear us.” You plead.

“I don’t care. I have a promise to fulfill, to ensure you know how much I love you.”  Any further protest dies out when you feel a kiss along your neck again.

“We’ll be late...” You attempt, and Simeon eyes you.

“I can live with that.” You bite your bottom lip as he breathes a hot breath against your ear, and you feel yourself aching already.

“Besides, I do believe you won’t be able to sit still in class if I leave you unsatisfied. That would be a sin in my eyes.” Simeon only has to press a few more kisses to convince you to slack off a bit more. How can you deny him when he says and does such sweet things to you.

You don’t even think twice feeling him again, or how your hands and fingers dig into his arms as he holds you underneath him. Even as you feel him fill you and all you can do is blush underneath him. You wonder if he truly wants one at the rate he keeps going.  

“I am hopelessly in love with you.” You hear murmured into your chest, and Simeon is nuzzling his face into your breasts. You smile noting how cuddly he is after each romp, like he makes up for all the roughness with being as soft and cute as possible.

Only time would tell if he can manage an impossible.  

[dapandapod]

Dearest Pandolfius,

I have heard that you write excellent stories, so I have come to your askbox to humbly beg for some Lambden content. I'm thinking a Modern AU in which Aiden is a ballet dancer, but in one of his performances he stumbles on stage. Do whatever you want with that hehe.

Love, Jolfius

I am so sorry Jolfius my love, this took way too long to publish. It has been sitting in my drafts for ages because I couldn't think out a crude thing for Lambert to say. But here it is at last <3 (Oh yeah, and let's see if anyone catches my zelda reference ehehe)

Thank you @kuripon for beta reading and @all-hail-the-witcher for helping me do dancing somewhat correct, and @damatris for letting me borrow drunk sheep on a tightrope <3 You are the very best

Warnings: Mentions of serious injuries and recovery. Lambert shows he cares by getting angry, and poor dancing knowledge.

On Ao3 here

Lambert sits in the audience, his knee jumping. It is opening night and the company has been practicing for months. And practicing harder than probably most was his love, Aiden.

He doesn’t have a big part, staying towards the back of the corps sections. Nothing that can be too much. They are really lucky they decided to keep him, but Tissaia always had a good eye towards Aiden.

The curtains open, the orchestra starts, the ballerina on stage breaks her pose and starts her pirouettes and twirls, her complicated leaps and turns, ever graceful.

A man approaches her and together they dance to the trembling violins. It is beautiful, it is painful, it is aching and full of emotion. Two years ago, Aiden had been in an accident. A piece of scenery came undone, the moon literally falling down on stage. Luckily, Aiden was the only one who got hurt.

Nothing lucky about it, in Lambert's opinion.

The worst part of the injury had been the head trauma. He spent two weeks in a coma, and when he woke up, they discovered that he had lost sight in one eye and was suffering terrible migraines. His right knee had also taken a bad hit, and nothing pained Lambert’s heart more than watching Aiden get the news of his injuries.

Lambert had spent many months with him in the hospital, in physical therapy, cuddled together in their pitch black bedroom when the outside became too much.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could keep Aiden from his dreams.

The first time Lambert drove Aiden to the studio, they both were nervous. Tissaia said Aiden would always be welcome back, but they all knew they couldn’t afford a dancer that couldn’t dance.

“You could always become a teacher?” Lambert offered after a long silence, Aiden staring out the side window. “If you are half as good as that twat Vilgefortz, you would run him out of business. He looks  worse than a drunk sheep on a tightrope.” 

Aiden didn’t reply.

Somehow, Aiden had made it through a gentle training program. He was not the first dancer with injuries, and he wouldn’t be the last. His knee kept up surprisingly well, but his depth perception was fucked up now, so there had been some wobbly landings.

But how Aiden shined.

And here they are, after a long journey. Tissaia finally agreed to let Aiden be a corps dancer, to stand on stage again. Lambert follows the story with mild interest. It is an adaptation of a Polish fairytale about a sorceress, and a man bewitched to be her destiny. Despite being each other's halves, they fight like the sea fights the shore. 

It is a lot more complicated than that, but Lambert is not here for them. He sits with rapt attention, and after almost 45 minutes, Aiden steps out on stage.

It is hard to see him, hidden in the third row of dancers on the left side, but Lambert only has eyes for him. They fought about this. Hard and loud and angry.

Lambert thinks Aiden is an idiot for still trying, for not taking a step back, for risking everything all over again. The doctor had said one bad landing and Aiden might not even be able to walk again, yet alone dance.

But as the light shines on his hair, slicked back in a tight bun, his eyes rimmed with kohl, Lambert can see why Aiden fought him. The way he carries himself out here, how in control he is of his own body. He is beautiful. Alive. Happy.

He might never get a lead role, might never dance with the prima ballerina. But being out here is enough. Aiden lives and breathes for his dancing.

And just as Lambert relaxes, Aiden stumbles and winces. It is small, just a light misstep, but Lambert saw the wince, the clench of his jaw. 

Fuck.

As soon as the first intermission begins, Lambert goes backstage. Many of the dancers greet him, but he doesn’t have time. Aiden sits with his leg held high, muscles taped and tense. Worry and

anger well up in Lambert, and soon it spills over.

“I fucking told you this was a bad idea!” he spits, and Aiden jerks in surprise, turning to look at him.

“I’m fine, Lambs.”

“No, you are fucking not! I told you and you never listen!”

“Lambert.”

His tone is sharp, and Lambert draws in an angry breath. Holds it.

“Do you trust me?” Aiden asks him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

The anger drains out of him, but the worry remains.

“With my life,” he says quietly. “Just not with your legs.”

Aiden smirks, just on this side of dirty. The things they have done with those legs makes it hard to dispute just how much he trusts them, and Aiden knows it.

“Shut it,” Lambert mutters, and Aiden laughs, deep and happy.

Somewhere behind them, the stage manager yells the five minute warning, and Aiden pulls Lambert down into a kiss.

“I’m fine, Lambchops,” Aiden says against his lips and then he leans back. ”It was just a stumble. It happens, it hurts, but I’m alright. I have a half hour break before the next dance, and Triss will never let me out there if she decides I can’t. It’s fine.”

Lambert grumbles, but finds himself defeated.

He does trust Aiden, and he trusts Triss to keep Aiden down to earth. Aiden pulls him in for another slow, warm kiss, soothing the last remnants of anger and worry away.

“When we get home tonight, I got a surprise for you,” Aiden whispers, dragging his lips gently across Lambert's cheek. Fuck, how he loves this man.

Aiden doesn’t stumble again. His dance is flawless, and Lambert can’t breathe. When they get home, they are both exhausted. Lambert helps him with his night time routine of stretching and massaging.

He is beautiful, aching and full of emotion when he lowers himself down to one knee in front of Lambert. He is alive, happy and full of hope when he lifts a red velvet box and offers the ring inside to Lambert.

Once again, Lambert can’t breathe.

[writinglizards]

Something the Cat Dragged In

Summary: It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden.

He's likely not interested anymore, even if Lambert had done his best to curb his sharpest edges, keep him coming back. It hurts and he tells himself it doesn't. It's better than the alternative. Better than Aiden hurt...or worse.

Then he finds the cat.

Pairing: Aiden/Lambert Rating: Teen Warnings: None

This is for @contemplativepancakes who asked for a comedy of errors. I am awful at that, but I’ve been assured this is funny, so. Please enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden when he finds the cat.

Or more accurately, perhaps, the cat finds him.

It's been about two weeks since he set out from Kaer Morhen to the clearing where he usually meets Aiden. He hadn't shown last year and Lambert hadn't been able to find him, even keeping an ear out for word about a tall, dark-haired cat witcher too nice for his own good.

He's not sure what he's hoping for this year, or at least he's not comfortable admitting to himself what he's hoping for. He likes Aiden, but they don't need to travel together. He's sure he's fine, he's just...busy.

It doesn't make the ache in his chest any easier to deal with, but he pretends it does.

Regardless, he heads for their meeting spot and sets up camp. He'll wait a week and if Aiden still hasn't shown after that, well.

He's fine. He's just...not interested in Lambert anymore, probably.

That hurts worse, somehow.

-----

The cat shows up the second morning Lambert's camped out.

It's a skinny thing, sleek black with a patch of white on his chest and haunting green eyes.

Lambert wakes up to the creature nestled between his calves and startles, upsetting the cat who mews his annoyance and bites his foot. Lambert shoots out of his bedroll after that.

"What the fuck?" he asks the cat, who eyes him with distaste but doesn't move, and Lambert figures, well. The cat will leave on its own he'll just...wait.

-----

The cat doesn't leave, and it's starting to freak Lambert out, just a little bit.

When he settles down to eat, the cat creeps from his bedroll to sit by his boots and stare with big, green eyes that remind him of Aiden. He shoves that thought from his head as quickly as it arrives.

"Cats don't like witchers," he says, as if the cat might have forgotten, but he doesn't move, just sits and stares at Lambert's jerky.

"Are you just hungry?" he asks, and, after a brief hesitation, he snaps a small piece off and offers it to the cat. The cat, for his part, briefly sniffs the offering before taking it into his mouth only to drop it on the floor and bat it around like a toy.

"Really?" he asks the cat, but the cat doesn't seem to care about Lambert's none too silent judgment, just continues to amuse himself with the bit of food. Lambert only hopes the little creature will move on, and quickly.

-----

It keeps trying to creep into his bedroll.

"You can't sleep here," he hisses, shoving the little creature away from his feet for the third time in as many minutes. In response, the cat hisses and bites, sinking its sharp little teeth into Lambert's calf.

"Son of a bitch." The cat stares defiantly at Lambert over its mouthful of flesh as if daring him to retaliate. Reluctantly, he can admit the little thing has gumption.

"You're mean you know that?" he asks the cat, who, when it becomes clear Lambert isn't going to continue fighting, lets go of its mouthful and steps daintily over his leg to settle between his knees.

"This is only for tonight," he says, huffing irritably, "and only because you're such a little dick." The cat ignores him, settling down and beginning to purr softly. Lambert pretends that doesn't make his heart swell.

-----

Lambert can't bring himself to disturb the cat when he wakes so he just...lays there and lets the little beast slumber.

He tells himself it's because he doesn't want to be bit again. It has nothing to do with the fact the cat is small and warm, and the weight of it against his shins is comforting.

It's fine until the little creatin begins to chew on his toes.

"I thought you were asleep," he hisses, twitching his ankles to dislodge it. The cat only delights in the movement, pouncing after him. Lambert groans.

"When are you going to get lost?" he asks, hauling himself up and depriving the cat of their game. He's not expecting the small thing to sit back on its haunches and merp softly at him. Slowly, he stills.

"You wanna say that again?" he asks, and the cat meows plaintively. Staring at him like this, he's reminded again of Aiden. The eyes, the color of the fur so close to the deep black of Aiden's own hair, and the jagged, mangled left ear, just like--

Something like ice settles in his veins.

"Aiden?" he asks tentatively, and the cat meows delightedly, striding forward to wind between his legs. Lambert crouches to put himself on level with the cat again.

"Tell me I'm not crazy," he begs. The cat just stares at him before headbutting his knee. Without thinking, he raises a hand, running fingers meant for killing back through silky fur. Beneath his fingertips, the cat kicks up a purr again.

"Fuck, it is you, isn't it?" he asks, scratching gently at the base of the mangled ear just to listen to the way the cat--Aiden, it's Aiden--purrs his pleasure, head tipped into the contact.

"What the fuck am I gonna do with you?" he asks. Aiden, too distracted by Lambert's gentle caress, isn't in the least bit helpful with an answer.

-----

If Aiden is here, there's no point in sticking around camp and waiting any longer, but Lambert still feels off-kilter and he did budget a week's worth of resources for camping, so he’ll just...he'll just give it another day or two. Just until he feels a little less like he's losing his mind.

He feeds the cat the bits of the fresh rabbit he caught the night before for breakfast and the cat does eat that, quietly delighted with its little meal. And now that he knows it's Aiden...

"Do you have any idea how worried I was last year?" he asks, petting down his lanky back and enjoying the way he arches into it, purring again, "I thought...uh," he can't quite say it. The I thought you were dead or the I thought you didn't want me, bit. Both hurt.

"Anyway," he mumbles awkwardly, "how long have you been like this?" Aiden just makes a little chirping sound and headbutts his hand again to get him to pet him. Lambert sighs.

He spends the day charting out a path to the nearest mage who might be willing to help. He's pretty sure that would be Triss where she’s been staying in Ard Carraigh, even though she's more than a two-week ride away. She's helped Lambert in the past, he figures she's probably his best bet now, too.

"What do you think, Aiden?" he asks, but the cat is napping curled up on top of one of his saddlebags and otherwise unhelpful. Lambert is pretty much on his own.

-----

That night is a repeat of the night before, Aiden curled up across his shins and purring sweetly. As he lays staring at the stars and trying to sleep, he can't help but wonder how much of Aiden is...present, for lack of a better term. The cat acts like a cat, except he's eerily like Aiden in appearance and the fact that he's...he's fond of Lambert, apparently. He'd known, immediately, Lambert would care for him. He at least needs to get him turned back, proved that Aiden's instincts there had been right.

He falls asleep worrying about it.

-----

Traveling with Aiden as a cat is...not as simple as it should be.

"If you won't stay in the god damned saddlebag, you at least need to hold still," he hisses wrestling the cat into his lap. Aiden’s been trying to walk the length of his horse as they ride, and the prick of his claws is making Cinnamon nervous. Lambert doesn't want to be thrown from the saddle, so he's got the cat under the arms, holding him to his chest as he wiggles in an attempt to get free. Aiden is clearly not amused by the situation.

"You bastard," Lambert hisses when Aiden takes a chunk out of his arm through the thin cloth of his shirt, unprotected by his bracer or jacket, "Aiden would you, fuck--" the cat yowls and Lambert jerks Cinnamon to a halt. "What?"

Before he can figure out what's wrong, Aiden's lept from his arms, landed gracefully on his feet, and bolted into the trees.

"Aiden, wait! Fuck," he hisses, and the next minute, there's a click of hooves and--

"Having a good morning, Lambs?" Lambert whips around so fast his neck cracks alarmingly.

"Aiden?"

He's astride a horse Lambert doesn't recognize, not Sugar, and he looks...he looks...

"You're not a cat," he says dumbly, and Aiden grins, the bastard.

"No, but it's been very fun watching you the last day or so," and oh, Lambert's going to kill him, actually, "you didn't really think the cat was me, did you?"

"I...it was...fuck," he spits, wheeling Cinnamon to march past Aiden's gelding, now headed in the opposite direction. If the damn man is fine, then he doesn't need to go see Triss and he can head back towards Aedd Gunvael looking for contracts as he'd planned previously.

"Aww Lambs, no need to get embarrassed," Aiden calls, and Lambert can hear the shit-eating grin, "I'm just teasing."

"Fuck off," he growls, but Aiden's horse falls into step beside Cinnamon.

"Oh, don't pout on me, Lambert. I thought it was cute," he says, and Lambert can't bite back the words in his throat any longer.

"I thought you were dead," he spits, "or worse." Disinterested. Abruptly, Aiden leans over and catches Cinnamon's reins, pulling them both to a stop.

"Whoa, wait. You thought...what?"

"I haven't seen you in a year," he bites out, horrified to find his throat thick with tears, "what was I supposed to think?"

"You didn't get my letter?" he asks, and then, before Lambert can process that statement, "fuck, Lambert, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew I was working far south last year, I couldn't...I couldn't ask you to come with me, so I left you a note at that inn we drink at every year. Bastards must have tossed it. Fuck."

"So you didn't..." you didn't abandon me, you aren't tired of me, you haven't moved on to something better. He can't say any of that, just goes quiet.

"I didn't leave you high and dry on purpose, no. Fuck, Lambert, how could I?" he smiles, a small, timid thing, "you're the best part of my year, puppy dog, how could I?"

The sincerity in his gaze and his words makes Lambert's face hot, makes his throat tight. He spurs Cinnamon back into motion, and Aiden's horse follows.

"Whatever, you fucking sap." It's the best he can manage without risking something drastic, like tears or his own dopy smile. Still, he can feel Aiden radiating smug energy behind him again.

"Aww, come on, puppy, I just poured my heart out for you, I deserve better than a whatever."

"You did not," he snaps, "shut up."

"Oh, you need declarations of love then? Fine. I--"

"Aiden," he cuts him off, not willing to find out how far Aiden will take this game of emotional chicken, "stop. I'm...I missed you. You're the best part of my year too." He says it without looking at him, Cinnamon a few crucial paces ahead of Aiden's horse. The back of his neck feels hot and he knows he's blushing.

"O-oh," Aiden stammers out, "uh--"

"There," Lambert cuts in, "now you can shut up."

Gratefully, Aiden does.

-----

Lambert's so relieved about Aiden, he doesn't think about the cat until they stop to camp for the night.

"Do you think the cat's okay?" he asks, and Aiden gives him a long, slow look.

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it--what the fuck Aiden? It's just a little cat. How's it gonna take care of itself out here? I should have gone after it." He regrets being so wrapped up in Aiden that he'd forgotten the other Aiden, cat Aiden. Not cat Aiden? Fuck, he's tired.

"Cats take care of themselves, Lambs, don't stress about it. He was managing just fine until he found a soft-hearted witcher to feed him, he'll be fine."

"Excuse me, who the fuck do you think is soft-hearted here?" he growls, and Aiden lays his bedroll out beside him and grins.

"Why you, puppy dog. You're the sweetest--" he doesn't let him finish, hooking his foot around Aiden's ankle and bringing him down on top of the bedroll hard.

"Not sweet," he hisses, but it feels like overcompensation even to him, and Aiden just laughs, rolling to stare at him with eyes that are far too fond.

"Sure thing, Lambert."

And if, as they both fall asleep, Lambert shifts closer to throw his arm around Aiden's waist, pull him in closer amidst Aiden's sleepy mumbling, well. It's still cold at night. Nothing more.

-----

There's a slight, warm weight across Lambert's shins when he wakes.

It takes his half-asleep mind a minute to realize what that means, and then he's sitting up so fast Aiden makes a startled noise.

"Lambert, what the fuck," Aiden husks, but Lambert's not listening.

No, he's focused on the cat curled across his shins, jet back with one mangled ear and a white spot on his chest. He peers up at Lambert with those same big green eyes, and something in Lambert's chest shifts.

"Hey there Aiden, thought I lost you," he murmurs, reaching out to pet across the broad side of the little creature. He allows it for a moment before catching Lambert's hand with his paws and biting, just enough for him to feel it. "Yeah, yeah, I deserve that."

"What are you--oh." Aiden comes up short when he sits up and sees the cat again, nestled across Lambert's legs, "well I'll be damned." He reaches out to pet the cat too, who promptly hisses and swats at Aiden, claws extended, "Oi, fuck, rude." Lambert laughs.

"Guess he doesn't like you much, eh?" His chest feels light as he scoops the cat up into his arms. He tolerates it, although he gives a fretful little meow at the treatment.

"You would find the only cat that stands witchers and get it only to like you," Aiden grouses, but he doesn't seem genuinely troubled about it, "I can tell why you thought of me, though. That's sweet." And that--

"Yeah," he says, unable to come up with something suitably snarky and mean. He sets the cat down, who scampers back over to make himself comfortable on Lambert's saddlebag, away from the indignity of surprise cuddles. He's trying not to look at Aiden's own mangled ear, the one cut round in a rough approximation of a human's, a reminder of how he’s been treated in the past. Lambert had been...so fucking worried.

"You can't keep calling him Aiden, though."

"Sure thing," he says, forcing a grin. He has no intentions of calling the cat anything else and he knows Aiden knows, too, can see it in the fond little crinkle around his eyes, the sweet upturn of his lips, "Come on, we've got a camp to pack."

And if Lambert keeps calling the cat Aiden and starts calling witcher Aiden witcher Aiden just to piss him off? Well. How else is he supposed to know he's loved?

[devildomdoofus]

I saw you said your commissions are open, if it's ok can I request a fluffy morning with the demon brothers, please? I just found your blog but I already fell in love with your writing style 😍. I hope you have a great day 🤗

Thank you so very much!! 😭 I’m over the moon that I can make you happy with my writing and I’ll GLADLY take this request ✨ I hope you have a great day as well!!

I also hope I’ve done your request justice 🥺

- DevildomDoofus

Through Morning’s Rays

Fluffy mornings with the Obey Me! Brothers

💙Lucifer:

Both of your schedules differed a generous amount. He wakes up the earliest out of the House of Lamentation and Purgatory Hall combined, to ensure everyone’s up and ready for school/work/etc.... and he is the last to go to bed.

That is, if he isn’t dog tired by the time he’s finished doing his last rounds of security checks and sending any remaining night owls to their rooms to keep their schedules in check, and collapses at his desk while finalizing reports.

You, on the other hand, have a steady schedule due to your obligations to your school (and job, if you worked).

To say that you two have a hard time spending any amount of quality time together is an understatement

Please forgive him, he is a lone father and he is trying his best

When he’s up early to get a head start in working to the bone, as usual and doesn’t have much time to share the fleeting, morning hours with you, he’ll gingerly place a kiss to the top of your head and shift the blankets from your late night tossing and turning, back to their place over your shoulders and covers the rest of your body. He’ll leave a little note by the bedside table that wishes you a wonderful day and promises that he’ll meet with you shortly to make up for lost time.

On the rare occasions that he manages to be able to share mornings with you, it is like a gift from the celestial realm to you both in which afterwards, the two of you are like completely different people, beaming with sunshine and happiness as your batteries have been recharged.

In those rare moments, he’ll slide to your side of the bed, oh so carefully snake his arm around you and tugs you gently into his embrace as he places kisses all atop your head. When you finally open your eyes and face him, he’ll run his hand up the length of your silhouette to your face, cupping it, rub his thumb over your cheek and smile lazily. “Good morning, lamb.” He whispers, trying to disguise the grogginess in his voice. Then, he leans down to press his lips against yours in a way that makes you feel like he’s been starving for you for months on end, only to now get what he’s craved and yet it’s not enough.

In this moment, nothing in all of the realms matters to him more than you. Just you and you alone.

💛Mammon:

You spent many, many, MANY mornings with him and they were some of your favorite memories since you first came to the Devildom. For him.... well, maybe not at first since you were kind of a chore. But the was before you two became so close.

The only problem was that neither of you were morning people, especially if either of you had responsibilities that day like school or work. To deal with such a thing, the two of you made a deal where each of you took turns being the one to help wake the other.

There were mornings where he woke you up with a heavy pillow to the torso and it ended up in you two being late for school due to an epic pillow fight that neither of you wanted to lose.

Other mornings, you woke him up by jumping and flopping around next to him on the bed, belting a song that was the favorite of the pair of you, and he tackles you back down to the bed to deliver you a piping hot plate of a tickle fight

and then there were THOSE mornings.

These mornings, when the two of you just happened to wake around the same time, he’d smile sleepily, yank you closer, and place a kiss on your forehead. “Mornin’, my lil’ human.”

UGH, that gravely, morning voice would be the bittersweet death of you.

While having a few hours to spare, you would lay there in the semidarkness, whispering sweet everythings to each other, exchanging kisses and joke ensued laughter, and simply enjoying each other’s company while entangled in a comfy, cozy embrace.

🧡Leviathan:

It’s the same sort of situation as with Mammon; neither of you were really morning people. But with you two, it was because it came with the terms and conditions of being like minded nerds (as a fellow ‘nerd,’ I mean that term in the best way possible and as a compliment) in which the endgame boss had to be defeated, or that one episode simply could not be missed, or your favorite celebrity/idol was going live and you were not about to be absent for it. Many evenings were spent indulging in both of your favorite hobbies, well into the latest hours of the night and early morning, when you should’ve been sleeping instead.

So of course, mornings were INCREDIBLY ROUGH for the two of you.

In the beginning and a majority of the time, you were the one to wake him up. I hope you can forgive him, though, because almost all of his energy is spent drowning out his negative thoughts and the outside judgement from his own brothers, haters, and toxic fans alike via his hobbies and he doesn’t quite have enough energy to take care of himself, including waking up on time for school or other responsibilities/obligations to avoid getting an ass-chewing from Lucifer... much less waking up on time and then having to wake YOU up.

You had to show him the way, in a sense. You’re his motivation and safety net. Where you go, and ensure his ‘safety’ he delightfully follows. Ergo, you had to be the alarm clock for him, for a while, to be shown that you truly care about him and it’s not all just some exasperating, ridiculously elaborate and heart shattering prank.

Your method of ‘raising the dead’ was to gently comb your hand through his hair while softly beckoning him from his dream world with your sweetest voice to ‘the land of the living.’ His eyes would flutter open and as soon as he saw you with that heartwarming smile, his face would turn a deep crimson and he’d smile back, reaching a hand up to place it over top of yours, somewhat nuzzling into it. “Good morning, my human Henry.” His shy, quiet, gravely voice could melt lava.

Through this method of yours, he no longer woke with animosity for the normie world but was rather hopeful and optimistic, feeling as if nothing could bring him down. Not even his brothers’ insults.

Eventually, he got the hang of it, and he was the one waking YOU up and he did so as sweetly as you had done. He’d place his hand on your cheek, rub his thumb over it, and gingerly place a multitude of kisses atop your head as he whispered your name until you woke.

Some mornings when he was feeling extra giddy, he would place a little speaker near where you had fallen asleep and quietly play your favorite song as he sang along and took hold of your hands to swing them gently to the beat. He saw it once in an anime episode and was hoping it would award him the same giggles the love interest gave the protagonist.

Fortunately for him, it always did.

💚Satan:

Being one of the more mature and responsible brothers, he rarely ever slept in. It’s just in his nature to be an early bird to catch the early worm.. mostly to get it over with so he could get back to doing what he loved most; reading in comfort. Even still, his schedule matched with yours almost perfectly, and that’s due to the fact that, similar to Leviathan, you two were likeminded.

You had the same interests and hobbies so of course, the pair of you grew very close, very quickly. You first linked up for study sessions because celestial realm knows that school in the Devildom was VASTLY different than human world schools, then book club meetings for when you got a little more comfortable with each other’s presence, then as you became even closer, you just decided to do the same things at the same time as it killed two birds with one stone; you got to do what you enjoyed with the person you enjoyed the most.

Mornings to you two were fairly simple and honestly, quite enjoyable with the other being there when you woke.

One morning, Satan took the first step and woke you to the pleasant sound of one of your favorite records echoing from an antique gramophone while placing a tray of your favorite breakfast foods next to the bed. He then leant down, took your hand into his, and kissed from your knuckles, all the way up to your shoulder, and then planting one final, light kiss to your cheek. “My darling MC, it is time to come back to me. Your dreams have had you long enough.”

From then on, you took turns in trying to wake the other in the most romantic ways possible. From your favorite flower’s petals scattering the bed, to his favorite audio books reading him awake. There was nothing that you two wouldn’t do in order to guarantee that the other woke to nothing less than the world on a silver and golden platter.

He was the envy of his brothers especially Mammon, getting to spend so much time with you and having you smile as brightly as you did with him.

💖Asmodeus:

Surprisingly, he’s another early riser. Though when you really think about it, it isn’t quite that surprising, considering he has a strict self-care routine that CANNOT be broken, lest he wishes to end up with a pimple or even worse... a wrinkle! Which neither are bad if you have them, it’s just for Asmo’s personal tastes for his own appearance, he prefers to have none of them.

Because he cares for you so much, he forces sternly asks that you have the same schedule as he does so he can give you the same love and care as he gives himself. He wants you to look and feel as wonderful as who you are on the inside... but he also loves it when you absolutely SHINE.

Please don’t be mistaken, he doesn’t think you’re ugly or unattractive or any other negative thoughts you might have about yourself, in the least. Not at ALL. He simply wishes to amplify what wonderful assets you already have (to your own tastes, of course) because of that oh so magnificent way you carry yourself when you feel your best.

Want to as pretty as a sunset? He’s got you covered. Want to be as handsome as... well, him? You’re covered there too. Want a little mix of any and everything? Oh please, give him a challenge! Whatever look you wish for, he’s there to help you make it happen.

You just have to take his hand and follow his lead. And his lead requires that you be ‘up and at ‘em’ early enough to go through the self-care routine (that he handpicked things for, according to you and your body’s needs), and eat the proper foods so your body and mind can handle the weight of being the most stunning thing to walk the face of any of the realms... besides him, of course. Also, all of this has to happen before school begins.

Unfortunately, that’s pretty early. There’s a LOT of self-care to-do’s that you two have to go through to ensure maximum amplification.

But because he knows that this can be rather overwhelming and a bit stressful to keep up with all of the time (and stress causes physical and mental harm), he’s always sure to make your mornings as pleasant and stress-free as possible.

He lights one of your favorite candles or incenses, and/or turns one of your favorite slower/softer songs on then climbs into bed and over top of you to begin his trails of kisses from the top of your head, down your face, neck and chest, further down your precious tummy, and stops right at your hips to go back up your body and start again. All of this on repeat as he coos and whispers your name, his soothing voice leading you from your dreams to the waking world. When your eyes meet his, he hums “ahh, my dear, you’ve returned to me.” He moves to kiss your lips as sweetly as he speaks.

He then slips his arms underneath you and lifts you up, as if you were one of Lucifer’s feathers, to carry you bridal style into the bathroom. He’ll then set you down and slowly undress you, taking as much time as you need him to, before helping you into the tub and giving you the gentlest of washes you’ve had since before you can even remember.

He’s the most soothing alarm that’s ever existed.

❤️Beelzebub:

Not really an early riser but he’s also not one to sleep in, either. To sleep in means to miss breakfast, and to miss breakfast is a death sentence for himself and anyone in the way of his next meal.

It also means that he doesn’t get to spend his mornings or share breakfast with you. Another death sentence but this one’s for his heart. Even though he might not say it, being that putting his thoughts and feelings into words is a bit harder than his more comfortable/natural way of simply showing you through his actions, he loves you very, very, VERY much.

This man cares so fucking much for you, he’d give up eating for the rest of his life if it meant you got to have a crumb. But he hopes it doesn’t have to come to that.

The way that Beel shows you that he cares is through food. Eating with you, cooking with you, watching you eat to be sure that you’re getting enough food in your own body, taking his time to eat his food because, now, he’s too busy having wonderful conversations with you, and every and anything in between.

One of his favorite ways is breakfast in bed. You had done it once for him before on one of your anniversaries and ever since then, he’s done it for you in return whenever he got the chance.

On mornings that he had waken up early enough, he’d quietly get up and tiptoe to the kitchen to make both of you a delicious breakfast. If Belphegor was up, on the rarest of rare occasions that he was, he’ll make a little something for him too. He’d put together your favorite foods and beverage while doing the same for himself, draw a cute little heart on a small post-it note and placing it on your side of the tray, tip-toe back up to the room and sets it on the nightstand beside the bed, then moves in close to you to start waking you up. He leans in close and peppers your face in little kisses before moving a little lower to your neck and giving his signature, gentle bite. “MC, honey, wake up. I’ve brought you breakfast.”

Nine times out of ten, you wake up in an instant. When you’ve slept heavily during the night and have a harder time waking up, he plops down onto you gently of course as to not squish you and groans in your ear, nibbling them to remind you of who you’re keeping waiting. “MCCC, pleeeease, I’m hungry. Don’t make me eat yours.”

The warning never fails.

As you two chow down, his dimpled smile never leaves his face nor his eyes on you as he watches you enjoy another morning filled with your favorite things: Beel and Beel’s signature breakfast.

💜Belphegor:

Morning? What the hell is a morning?

Yeah, yeah, he knows what a morning is. He’s had to get up for them too many fucking times to count in order to get to school on time.. or at least try. His attendance is, more or less, nonexistent. He’s just not a morning person.

at ALL.

WHAT. SO. EVER.

The one thing ‘Mr. Sandman’ doesn’t do is wake up or get woken up if the awakener values their life

However... if it is you, his favorite walking and talking pillow, he can’t be that pissed about it. It’s a little more of a smooth transition from being asleep to being awake when you’re the one bringing him there.

So, yes, you’re the one waking him up and it’s never the other way around, but you knew this would be your lot in life the closer you had gotten to him.

And yet, whenever you tried to wake him, he’d simply wrap his arm over you and drag you back down onto the bed as he rolls on top of you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. “No.” he’d groan in his gravelly morning voice.

What? What did he mean ‘no’ ?! It’s time to get up!!

You’d try your best to to wiggle free but Belphegor is far more stronger than he looks and keeps you pinned down in place. Well... at least it’s comfy.

Wait no, this is his way of coercing you to go back to sleep with him!

Before you can try something else, he plants warm and slow kisses up and down your neck and nibbles at the skin just beneath your ear while whispering in a low tone, “why don’t we just stay here and do something better than go to school?”

Your face heats up and body tenses underneath him. It was not uncommon for him to try this tactic, especially in the morning, so you were fairly used to it but sometimes... sometimes it just does something to you and you’re frozen in place with nothing but his voice to lull you wherever it pleased. Maybe it came with being the Avatar of Sloth? He moves up onto his elbows to deliver his final attack that was his signature, teasing smile in order for him to fully keep you here, in bed, with him and simply enjoy each other’s company while you slept.

Unfortunately for him, this was his mistake and you gained yourself a foothold in pushing him off of you. Getting up from the bed, you look back at him as you straighten your clothes out and fix your hair, saying “Breakfast is in ten minutes,” with a stern voice. You take notice of this and try to sweeten it up to truly convince him. “Be there, won’t you?” you demand more than request, with a signature smile of your very own.

He brings his dropped jaw back up from when you were able to knock him off, and shakes his head as he lightly chuckles. “Whatever you want, MC.” Before you completely walk out of the door, he calls after you. “You owe me!”

You peak back in just enough for him to hear you as you’re closing the door. “No, you owe me.”

[jojo-reader-hell]

So I dunno what side you stand on the Dio being a father thing, but Dio kidnapping an infant from the hospital to give to his lover who wants a baby. :3c

Finding this request in the backlogs of my inbox was like venturing into the dark basement at work and finding a lovely vintage wine. Bitter, I’d never drink it, but a treasure none the less. Hope you Dio simps enjoy!

DIO x Vampire!Reader

“I told you many times, submit to me before it’s too late. Now look, you’ve brought this upon yourself.”

The look you gave him was poisonous. Enough so that it actually frightened him into a state of submission rather than allow him to continue to argue about your thousands of refusals in the past, and he wasn’t able to shake it from his head even now as he quietly lowered himself into a darkened room via the open window.

There, huddled in the corner of the room, there was his prize. The scent emanating from it was intoxicating. A sickly sweet smell, like honeyed milk, so wonderful it made him salivate even though he’d already partaken enough sustenance for the journey home. Its dam would harm it no more, of that he was sure, and he knew you would care for it with all the tenderness he wished to possess.

Thinking about that smell transferring to you was the only thing that kept him from devouring his prize. He couldn’t wait... absolutely impatient to transfer this delicious smell that he might bury himself in your bosom to take in this marvelous scent.

It took quite a while to return to the home he made for the two of you, only the thoughts of this wonderful smell on your supple body keeping him in check. Sometimes he recalled how he left his beloved behind to complete this demand. You were laid out on your “marriage bed”, scantly clad and arms crossed over your chest. Your lover had at the time prostrated himself at your feet, feeble attempts at lavishing you in affection only served to annoy you rather than allow him access to his most closely guarded treasure. His movements were tender, rubbing his pale cheek and lips against your feet and legs, begging without words for permission that you did not wish to give him.

Many years ago, he would have killed to be in this predicament. In the beginning you didn’t even let him get near enough to breathe in your scent of roses. He had to use the stone mask to turn you, no fangs allowed to mar your skin, and even then he suffered countless wounds that were painstaking to heal from. Now you actually began to return his advances. It seems a long many years in solitude softened your hard shell, craving the company of the monster that stole the body of the one you were supposed to marry.

Dio Brando had finally won, but at what cost?

“Well I... I already offered you a solution...-“

“That I did not like.” You snarled.

“That you did not like. What else am I supposed to do?!”

“You said you would give me anything. You promised me, and like a fool I believed you. Now... I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t you start that with me again-!”

All you had to do is look at him, the crimson glow of hate burning in your eyes and scorching over your normal “submissive” iris, and he stopped in his tracks. By now you knew he won’t touch you if you don’t wish it, and he would not refuse you anything. A mite unfair trade, if he was being realistic.

“Isn’t that what you told me...” you said, “Groveling at my feet like a dog that night you took my humanity away from me, ‘fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave’... I’ve given you everything I have, even forgiven the things you stole from me, now is the time I may collect what is rightfully mine. I do not care how you do it, I do not care where it comes from, but I want my baby. I want the child that was stolen from me. And you’re going to find him no matter how long it takes.”

“My love...” he murmurs, taking in the delightful way your features soften at his return.

“Darling!”

Immediately you come to him, arms reaching for the moving bundle he cradles but will not relinquish. The baby inside the nest of blankets is oddly quiet, his wide blue eyes brimming with tears being in unfamiliar surroundings. At first Dio is seething when it seems you just want to take the baby and ignore him, then becoming a puddle of malleable mush when he realizes you’re stroking his strong arms and kissing his hands in absolute worship.

“Oh, oh...! My little lamb...” your voice raises many octaves when you speak to the poor, forlorn creature. “Look at you, so beautiful. What a beautiful gift your wonderful Papa has given me.”

It’s when you call him wonderful that he relinquishes the baby to you, letting you hold it to your chest as you wipe the baby’s tiny tears from his eyes. Instinctively, or perhaps even in true devotion, you press against Dio’s body with a silent plea to be held to him. A request of which he yet again readily complies to, holding you tightly in his arms as you rock the child back and forth in soft ministrations.

“Thank you...” you murmur, for you don’t wish to scare your new baby.

The baby... your own Giorno that was lost to you that cold evening of 1889, reunited at last with you over one hundred years later.

He murmurs into your hair that there is no need for thanks, already half drunk off the sweet baby scent that permeates your entire body. It doesn’t matter in this moment to him if you’re not in love with him. It doesn’t matter if this all turns out to be a facade, nothing more than a maladaptive coping mechanism to be close to the deceased body of your true love.

What matters is that in this singular moment, after years of pining, you belong to Dio wholly and irrevocably.

[mythicamagic]

Fire and Brimstone: a Sesskag oneshot

For @harlecorn! ♥ Happy Birthday! 🎂

Rated T

A Hellhound remains bound beneath a church, waiting for the chance to enact revenge on his captors. His golden opportunity comes in the form of a blue-eyed woman. Sesskag AU oneshot.

You can read this on Ao3, Fanfiction.net and Dokuga

AN: This takes place in old-timey England. Think Witch Trial era - between the 15th and 18th century. However, I'm largely skipping the old language used in those times bc it would make dialogue feel awkward. If Kagome sounds weird it's bc I've had to lay off the modern talk a bit.

Warning: references to/implies torture

Fire and Brimstone

It was raining outside. Sesshoumaru could tell because a continuous leak somewhere had become his sole entertainment for several hours now. A thin sliver of water dripped from the roof between 10-second intervals, and he passed the time by counting them.

...Eight...Nine...Ten- drip!

A black nose twitched, picking up stale dampness lingering in the air. His body ached, but if he stayed still the wounds remained at a manageable dull, continuous pain rather than flaring white-hot agony.

How long had it been since he'd been dragged down into this dark place? He couldn't recall. Perhaps years. At the very least- months. He'd long since given up looking around at his prison, now laying in a dozing, frozen state.

Hearing something, Sesshoumaru's fluffy ear quirked. The blood inside his ear canal had encrusted, leaving sounds muted, but he could pick up distant footsteps descending stone stairs.

Have they returned to pray and bind me more tightly to their pathetic altar?

Sesshoumaru inwardly sneered, scarred paws remaining motionless. Though incredibly weak due to holy water- with his back and arms impaled with large iron stakes- a powerful, simmering rage in his chest refused to be tempered. His throat burned, belly scorching hot.

The church priest would pay, along with all his snivelling followers. One did not bind a Hellhound and live to tell the tale. Their foolish obsession with witch hunts and stamping out 'evil' within the land would be their undoing. They were fortunate they'd captured him while he'd been asleep.

Torchlight shone an orange hue behind Sesshoumaru's eyelids, but he refused to open them, playing possum.

"Still sleeping, are ye, unholy mutt?" a detestable, straight-laced voice reached his damaged ears, another torch being lit inside the room. "Good. Stay that way. Sleep until our heavenly Lord above casts you back from whence you came, down to Hell."

Oh this one will not be returning empty-handed, Sesshoumaru inwardly purred.

Remaining motionless, he looked for all the world unconscious. He couldn't lash out and tear into the priest as desired, due to a muzzle enclosed around his jaw. So, he bided his time. Rescue was out of the question. Dark creatures such as he received no aid from brethren. Sesshoumaru would just have to conserve energy for now.

The priest murmured a prayer that sent wrought iron hissing anew inside his flesh. Inwardly snarling, Sesshoumaru held himself still, refusing to show pain. His legs trembled slightly, giving him away.

Curse you. Curse you!

Wrath pumped through his veins, a siren song urging him to kill.

Satisfied that his work held strong, the head priest left; the sound of footsteps retreated up the stairs, leaving behind the lit torch.

At least that changed the scenery a little. Not that he had any reason to look upon it. Sesshoumaru panted hard the second he was left alone, sharp teeth clenching hard inside his jaw.

A quiet gasp caught his attention. Sesshoumaru froze. His nose twitched.

No scent?

Frowning, the Hellhound pried his eyelids open. Orange and black shapes shifted, blurry until someone's face came into focus.

Blue eyes gazed down at him. A woman with dark hair tumbling down her back slowly pried her hand away from her mouth.

"They really are cruel," she muttered, shocked features becoming grave. "I might as well refrain from asking if you're alright- since you clearly aren't," the stranger winced. "Sorry, that was insensitive."

Sesshoumaru blinked. What the Devil?

Her lips pursed, attention sliding to the iron stakes in his back. "I don't know how they managed to capture you. Surely that Priest can't have holy powers. He's about as pure as mud."

"...What are you?"

She paused, tilting her head and pushing dark hair behind her ear. "O-oh, that was rude of me, I didn't introduce myself, did I?" smiling, she straightened. "My name is Kagome Higurashi. Who are you?"

His question had been left unanswered, for he was largely uninterested in her name. He sneered, "Sesshoumaru."

"Nice to meet you, Sesshoumaru," she brought her hands together behind her back, smiling with only slight wariness. Her faded dress was slightly torn. Peasant wear. "I didn't expect you'd be able to talk."

"And I did not expect to be joined down here by a little lost lamb. Are you my dinner? They do not typically feed me." Saliva pooled in his mouth, drool pooling on the altar. His jaws parted, eyes glinting as they ran over her willowy form.

Kagome stepped away, huffing and crossing her arms. "While I sympathize, don't get rude. If you eat my soul then you really will be all alone- with no allies. You'll have eaten the only help you're going to receive in this place."

Sesshoumaru frowned as she walked out of his available sight, moving around his left side and picking up something from a shelf.

"You seek to give me aid? That seems counterintuitive for a soul as pure as yours."

He could smell it. The light radiating from within her. He knew her to be foreign from her features- and wondered how a priestess from a faraway land had arrived in such a miserable country rife with turmoil and evil; his hunting ground for the past few centuries.

She reappeared in his line of vision, holding a bowl of collected rainwater. She frowned, "I don't think 'pure' means 'doormat.' These men have caused a lot of harm. Harm should come back to them."

Red eyes cracked wider, interest lighting his red gaze. Kagome set the bowl down, resting a knee beside his jaw on the alter. "I'm trying to help you. Please don't eat me for it," with a wobbly smile, she reached for his muzzle.

Sesshoumaru held still, keen attention fixed on her every movement. Her deep blue eyes were pleasing, face quite beautiful in flickering torchlight. His dry tongue shifted within his mouth.

A Hellhound's purpose was to drag corrupted souls to the underworld. Kagome's radiated a strong, fierce glow.

The Japanese woman carefully grasped cool metal chains, pulling them off from around his face and tossing the muzzle aside.

Spittle-coated teeth immediately lunged- latching onto the coarse fabric of her modest dress, canines resting over her chest. Kagome gasped, hands grasping his jaw. Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, forcing her to lean over him slightly.

Crimson eyes glared up at her, growling lowly.

"What is your motivation, priestess?" a dark rumble growled inside her mind. "Tell me why I see black flames of revenge burning in the depths of your soul. A single blemish in your otherwise spotless self."

Kagome exhaled, and he felt her chest expand and fall with each breath. Gentle fingers ran over the silver fur on his face, cracking his eyes wider.

"The Dutch took me from my country a few years ago. Since then, I've been passed around to different places, picking up different languages. When I was forced onto a boat heading for this strange land- I didn't think anything more of it. I was to be the servant of a reputable house, but the priest of this church took issue with my foreign looks. After that, men dragged me here. You're not the only one who has suffered at their hands."

She withdrew her touch- and Sesshoumaru nearly tipped his head to chase it- unfamiliar with gentleness. Sparking holy powers then collected between her fingers, hovering close without making contact.

"I don't want to hurt you, in fact, I'd rather we were allies," the hushed words sounded genuine. "But I won't let you eat me easily either if that's what you're after. Let go."

Sesshoumaru searched her face, becoming entranced; Drunk off the sparking conviction there. What an odd, strong woman.

Letting out a breath of steam that whipped her hair back, Sesshoumaru relaxed his lower jaw, teeth unhooking from where they'd dug into the material of her clothes. He lowered her back to kneel on the altar, immediately diving for the water she'd provided instead.

Kagome caught her breath, holy powers fading away.

He lapped up every last drop, panting for more, wanting to sate the burning in his throat, but it would do for now. Sesshoumaru lifted his head, words firm with conviction as his chest rumbled.

"If you release me from my imprisonment, I will do your bidding for a time, woman. However, you should be aware of the consequences if you set me free."

She absentmindedly rubbed at the spot over her chest where his teeth had been, lips curving. "I know what'll happen to me, Hellhound," Kagome said quietly. "I accept the consequences."

Sesshoumaru bumped her leg with his nose, resting his head upon her thighs. “Then what do you command?”

"I want you to devour them," she murmured, gaze far away as she stroked mindful fingers through matted fur. "I believe in reincarnation, so I want you to prevent these terrible people from ever getting a second chance at life again. Eat them all- except the Head Priest. Him...you can drag home, to the deepest, darkest place available. Never let him be free from the shackles and iron bars you thrust inside him."

Sesshoumaru's breath shuddered. Their judgement aligned perfectly; and she'd spoken his desires aloud.

He had come across countless souls during his wrathful existence. He knew kind ones as well as those corrupted. This was one of the few times Sesshoumaru felt he'd witnessed a kind person pushed too far, beyond her breaking point. Now a deep well of dark emotion had pooled inside her, magnificent in its righteous fury.

Shifting, he dragged a hot, wet tongue up the length of Kagome's collarbone and neck, leaving a slick trail.

"Such pain...I can taste the ash on you," he purred, looking into her sad blue eyes. His voice hardened, incensed with renewed anger from her hurts and his own. "Free me, and it is gladly done."

Kagome shivered, before moving around his side. Gripping one iron bar embedded through his front leg that jutted into the alter below, she planted her knees wide.

"This is going to be a painful process, I'm sorry. W-will you survive the blood loss?"

The white demonic dog flashing her a jagged smile. "Just who do you think you are talking to?"

With a nod, Kagome steeled herself. Giving a hard yank that sent her stumbling backwards- the long, gruelling process began. Only when the agony died down would a monster with blood-red eyes emerge from the bowels of the church.

And all Hell broke loose.

-----

The church tower collapsed through the roof that fateful night. Bloodshed had begun, soaking the air with a coppery taste that quickly became dwarfed by fire. Earlier rainfall could not deter it- nothing stood in its blazing, enraged path.

White flames roared around the silver monster. He chased men down the church aisle in a frenzied hunger, catching them in his jaws. Of course, he saved the best for last.

The Head Priest trembled against a broken wall while screams pervaded the smoky air.

Sesshoumaru turned, panting. A red tongue lolled, snaking up to lick his bloodied maw.

With a yelp, the man tried to scramble away- only for his robes to be snagged on a broken beam. Heavy paws collided with his back, teeth latching into his clothes.

Within the burning depths of the church, a roaring inferno opened up. The Priest clawed and scrambled at blistering ground, cobblestone turning into scolding cinders beneath his palms. Frightened screams rang out as he was dragged backwards, Sesshoumaru descending with him down a winding, fiery path into the earth.

Everything collapsed inwards with one final groan of wood as structures toppled, the building completely caving into a burning wreck.

Kagome stood alone on a hillside, watching the entire thing unfold. She then smoothed her skirts, crouching by an unmarked, mass grave.

"I hope...you'll feel avenged now," she said softly.

She did not run nor scream. Instead, Kagome waited patiently to meet her fate, setting some flowers down.

A white dog demon covered in patches of ash approached silently. He sat beside her, neither acknowledging the violence he'd just committed.

"This is where you are buried?" he asked, gazing intently at her.

The ghost smiled wanly. "Buried makes it sound like we had a funeral. I was dumped in this hole with a few other women after we were sentenced as witches and burned at the stake. Nothing was left but my charred remains," her voice wobbled. Kagome made to wipe some tears- his sticky tongue licking them away before she could.

She gentled, touching his bloodied jaw. "H-how are your wounds?"

"All but mended," Sesshoumaru drew closer, humid breath fanning over her neck. "You know what must happen now."

Kagome laughed cynically. "Mn, because I'm a corrupt soul, you'll be dragging me to Hell too," she brushed a hand over the fur at his shoulder. Blue eyes hesitated for a moment, afraid of something entirely human.

"Will it...hurt?" she whispered.

If it were possible for a demon dog to ease his expression into something a touch less cold and hungry, Sesshoumaru managed to achieve something almost warm. He didn't answer at first, allowing a moment of silence to stretch between them. When he finally spoke again, his speech resounded inside her head as a soft grumble.

"No. Not for you."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that," a breath rushed out of her dead lungs, arms wrapping around herself as she glanced at the grave. "I've had enough pain, thank you."

"Indeed, you and I both."

A lily-white hand was offered down to her, sliding into her vision. Kagome's gaze drew up to a tall male.

The yellow moon looming behind his head gave him a halo effect; its gentle glow lining his face and dazzling her. Silvery hair split down broad shoulders, hanging like fine royal threads fit for a King. He wore black robes that billowed like dragon smoke.

Sesshoumaru's inhuman face smiled in an unnerving fashion, though she could tell the intent behind it- the desire to reassure her despite evidence of death on his robes. "Shall we go?" he asked in rich, clear tones.

Kagome stared up at the demon's handsome features. Smiling, she grasped his clawed hand without fear, allowing him to pull her up.

"You didn't have to change into such a pleasing form. I was coming with you anyway."

"My form is pleasing?" thin lips curved, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Sesshoumaru strolled with her down the hill, a gateway opening up within the earth as a huge chasm, welcoming him home.

"Oh hush, you know it is," Kagome smiled tiredly, walking with the Hellhound away from the fire and brimstone burning behind them. "So...will I be punished down there?" her voice was almost lost, spoken so softly.

Glowing eyes smiled. "There is a place some call the Elysian Fields. I will take you to them."

She stiffened, blinking rapidly to expel the salty tears of relief and gratitude welling up in her eyes. Kagome stopped within the cavern of the underworld, causing him to halt with her. Drenched under harsh shadows of the earth about to swallow them whole, his eyes shone red like glittering jewels.

"I suppose I'll need a guard too," she said evenly. "To make sure I don't escape. I'm a very wicked soul, after all. A heretic."

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth at her. "Hn, the worst kind. I will see to it personally since this one is best suited for such a difficult task."

Smiling with relief, Kagome willingly walked with him into the jaws of Hell.

End

[sylvies-chen]

Prompt 70 for Brettsey 😍

If you can I would love a story involving Brett and Casey with one of their kids !!

Can't wait to read this

You're in luck because I'm in a big Brettsey + kids mood today (although let's be real, when am I not?) Also sidenote: I'm lowkey terrible at naming character's kids but let me know if it fits!

70. “I can’t do this on my own.”

"Daddy!"

Matt hears his daughter's frustrated call for her dad from the first floor and immediately stops what he's doing. Sure enough, when he gets to the stairwell, he sees Eleanor Casey, huddled over and fussing with her shoelaces.

Oh boy. He already knows where this is going.

Ellie's eight now and still doesn't know how to tie her shoelaces. Matt doesn't think it's that big of a deal-- getting the hang of it takes a little time, something she has plenty of since she's so young. But Ellie, for the past few weeks, has been letting it get to her more than usual. He and Sylvie have both been trying to guide her through it, to somehow make the steps simpler for her, but their daughter is as stubborn as she is kind. She gets that from both him and Sylvie, Matt thinks.

"What's wrong, do you need a hand?"

Ellie pouts, sticking out her trembling bottom lip as she crosses her arms. "My shoelaces won't do the thing," she explains defeatedly, her shoulders slumped. "This sucks."

Matt has to fight back a little chuckle at that. It's funny to him but he sometimes forgets that for Ellie, that's big language.

"Woah, now don't get so down on yourself quite yet, sweetie," Matt soothes her. "It'll be okay."

"No, it wont," she whines frustratedly. "Harper can tie her own shoelaces, and all the other kids in my class can too."

"Well Harper's a year older than you," he points out. "Auntie Stella and Uncle Sev taught her extra good."

"Well why can't you and Mommy teach me extra good? I can't do this on my own," she pouts again.

"We are teaching you," he promises her. "It just takes a little time to get the hang of it, El."

"Mommy lost her keys and can't help me right now, will you tie them for me instead?"

The young girl looks up at him with big, pleading eyes. She's mastered the same puppy dog eyes that Sylvie gets when she wants something. When it's matched with his daughter's tiny blonde braids and rosy cheeks, it makes for a pretty irresistible sight.

Well, almost irresistible.

"Why don't I help you figure it out? That way, you can do it yourself next time without help from Mommy or Daddy," he tells her gently, moving to the bottom of the stairs and getting on one knee. Ellie sits on the second step and even then, she just barely meets Matt's eye as she extends her left foot and shows him her bright pink, sparkly Sketcher shoe.

"Ok," she nods vigorously. "What do we do first?"

"We're going to take both laces," he starts, his hands guiding hers towards both end of the lace as she picks them up, "and now we're going to make a little X shape."

His hands stay hovering over hers, always guiding her gently as she follows his steps. Her shoulders relax slightly and stop slumping with each second he helps her with it.

"Now, we're going to put that guy under and pull. Think we can do that?"

"Well duh," she giggles amusedly, her teeth clenching her tongue gently as she flashes him a cheeky look. Their hands keep moving through the motions, pulling the lace through. "We did it!"

"We did, you're right," he beams. "Now we're going to make two little bunny ears and do the same thing with those. Okay?"

"Okay," she nods, her brows furrowing in concentration as their four hands keep moving. He makes one as she makes the other but after he hands her the second bunny ear, he gradually moves his hands away. She doesn't seem to notice, just keeps going by herself.

One of the loops is pulled down and under the other, then she yanks it tight and stares at her shoe in victory. Ellie's eyes go wide with excitement as she looks up at Matt with the biggest smile on her face. "We did it, Daddy! We really did it!"

"You did it, kiddo," he tells her. "I let go after the bunny ears were made."

"You wh--" Ellie looks down at her shoe, then back up at her Dad. For a minute, he thinks she's going to be upset, but a smile spreads over her face again. "Oh my gosh! Daddy, I did it on my own!"

Matt laughs at that, a true and joyful laugh that's pretty much only able to be caused by Eleanor, Sylvie, and on occasion, Severide. He might be extremely biased, but Ellie really is the sweetest thing out there. His and Sylvie's lives have become a million times better the day their daughter was born.

"Did what on your own?" Matt hears his wife's voice coming from the side of the stairs as she peeks at Matt and Ellie over the bars of the railing.

Ellie lights up and smiles at her mom. "I tied my shoelaces on my own, Mommy! Well, Daddy helped me with the first part, but then I did the little bunny ears all by myself," she explains happily.

"Wow! That's amazing, I'm so proud of you, little lamb," she coos, moving around the railing to sit next to her daughter. She grabs one of her braids playfully, then moves to tickle at her sides. Ellie giggles at the gesture, retreating back amusedly. She notices Ellie's other untied shoe though and points at it. "You've got a second foot though, silly. Think you can do that one all by yourself? Show Daddy just how strong you are?"

"Uh-huh," Ellie nods excitedly, moving to switch legs and extend her right foot. This time, Matt stands back and lets her do her thing.

He should have known before that she'd learn like this. Ellie's tough and smart beyond compare for a kid her age, but sometimes she gets too flustered and down on herself to see straight. That, Matt knows for a fact she gets from her mother. But Matt and Sylvie took vows to lift each other up, to support each other no matter what and help each other be the best versions of themselves. That applies to their daughter now too, so he's not surprised that all it took was a little confidence boost for Ellie to learn something new.

She goes at the second shoe, quietly mumbling the steps to herself as she goes through them and then sitting back in victory when she looks at the finished product. "There you go, Daddy. I did the second shoe," she announces, standing up on the step and showing him her ties shoes.

"I can see that. They look nice, you did a good job, Ellie," he beams. "If you're lucky, we might even take you to get some ice cream after school to celebrate."

"Really?" Her face lights up as she raises her eyebrows expectantly.

"You'll have to wait and see! Now come on, we need to get you to school. And Mommy can drive now that she's found her keys," Sylvie chuckles.

Ellie nods and Matt moves to pick her up. He lets out a soft grunt as her arms fly up and accept the embrace, slinging over his shoulder. He just forgets that she's growing up so fast sometimes, and that she doesn't weigh ten pounds like she did when she was just a baby.

Ellie giggles in his arms as he bops her nose once with his finger. He moves over to Sylvie though, who's already smiling joyously. It's sort of a momentous occasion for them; Ellie's been trying to tie her shoes for weeks now and the slight weight of the moment isn't lost on them.

Matt takes the opportunity of Ellie being slung over his shoulder to lean over and kiss Sylvie. Her lips drag against his slightly, and she exhales sweetly after they pull away from the kiss.

"Gross!" Ellie squeals from over his shoulder, wiggling in his arms. Sylvie chuckles, running a hand over his cheek to caress it once more before moving behind Matt to face Ellie.

"Who are you calling gross, little lamb?" Sylvie moves to tickle their daughter, who squirms in Matt's arms even more and laughs hysterically.

Matt lets them goof around for a little more before moving to the car. He knows they're going to make Eleanor late for school if they keep it up for too long but he doesn't care.

He's gotten a happy ending with the woman he loves, with their daughter. And that merits a million late slips in his mind. It's a small price to pay for a happy family.

[inviouswriting]

Comfortable

Comfortable.

Simeon x Fem!Reader

Smut.  

Warnings below

Contains - Sex obviously, but whips, riding the angel, breeding kink, dirty talk, scratching, biting, deep penetrations, a good time.

You feel warm, very warm and cozy. Back in Simeon’s arms in his bed, he has them around you along with the blanket used to drape over you two. You scoot back into the angel whose response is to wrap his arms tighter and nuzzle his face into the side of yours on top. You both had taken a nap after your antics together. Simeon had taken you a few more times on his bed, having you ride him, the look on your face more than enough to make him want more of you.

Simeon allowed you to use a whip on him finding how you use it exciting. His skin tingled and there were a few lines left on him, specifically his back, you earned his retribution when a well-placed whip cracked on top of his ass. He had you pinned and begging for relief after that one.

You both were aware that you had to return to House of Lamentations, though you wish you could stay with Simeon. Perhaps you could stay another night, Simeon would never mind, though you were sure you would not get much sleep.

You shift in Simeon’s arms turning to face him, the movement earns his eyes open, and he presses on your back closer. You wind your arms around him rubbing his shoulders and down the middle of his back tracing his spine and shoulder blades. Simeon practically melts into your touch, pressing lips to your forehead. You use your other hand to rub his face touching his cheek, as he quietly loves you with his eyes.

“My lamb?” You hear him, and you raise your hands up to cup his face both thumbs rubbing his cheeks. You see the way his eyes are warm when you do this, the never fading smile widening with a warmth. He smiles with his entire being and you want to always see it.

“I was thinking about your question... of whether to go with you back to the Celestial Realm. Or have you come with me to the human world.” Simeon’s attention on you now. A hum in his voice as you talk of your conversation with him about that. You had never given him an answer.

“Yes?” You feel your face burn a little with the thought of your words. Simeon places his hands on your head holding you to look him in his eyes.  

“I think I would love it more if you came with me.” Your gaze drops to his chest, and Simeon tilts your head back to silently ask “look at me.”

“Why would you want me to come with you?” His thumb circles an ear rubbing along the ridge of it.

“It’s embarrassing!” You shrink down and bury your face into his chest, Simeon is now curious to what and why you would want him as a human.

“For you, I would happily be with you as a human. But I must know what is so embarrassing about your question, or why?” Fingers card through your hair, he is using both hands to comb tangles out, his hands feel nice.

“I... would like to... have a child with you maybe.” You feel his hands stop, and you bury your face further into his chest. You worry if this were the break between you two, that he would not want to give up his archangel role.

“Lamb. Look up at me.” You raise your head to look at bright blue eyes beaming to yours in happiness.  

“I would love to do that.” Simeon tugs you closer into his arms, and you nuzzle his chest feeling protected and further loved. This took a lot to admit wanting with him, and you worried he would reject the idea of a child.  

“So, you will come with me?” You ask him, you didn’t want him to go through with it if there was a shred of doubt. Simeon shifts to pin you beneath him; one of his hands finds yours to lace fingers together. Simeon presses his forehead to yours with a gentle tap.

“You were either going to come with me, or I would be going with you. I don’t see myself without you now. Specially after... all we have been doing...” He has a cute look to his face, a blush along with downcast eyes at all the sexual endeavors you had been doing with the angel. You cup his face to get him to look at you. He meets your stare with that warm smile he always has when looking at you.

“I am happy then. Simeon.” He lowers his head more to rest his forehead against yours again. Looking deep at your eyes, you see just how blue they are, with that hint of green. Your eyes take his in, and he is focused on yours. You want to see him blush further, and quickly kiss him. His eyes widen only to lower as he pushes back to you accepting your kiss.

You both glide hands across skin, till the familiar heat rises within you, to want him again. You feel him poking into your thigh, you can tell he wants the same thing.  

“Simeon?” You say after parting from your kiss with him.

“Yes? My lamb?” You feel him shift and guide your legs apart to fit between them. You splay your hands across his dark skin, touching along his chest to rub it earning an appreciative hum.

“Should we get started in trying then?” You look up at Simeon as he shoves the blankets off you both kicking them off the side to not dirty them. Simeon raises up as he guides his cock into you, you bite your lip at the stretch. All of the earlier sex making you tender to his thrust inside. He stills once he is completely inside.

“I think we can start trying then. Just so you know, I don’t intend to let up until I know you’re blessed with a child.” You wonder what you got yourself into with the angel, and you feel him drag himself slowly inside. Your hands going to his back to add onto the many scratches you have left there. He would have to wear something that covered his back.

“It makes me happy you would want that from me. I will do my best.” Simeon says as he picks up the pace, slow thrusts in, shallow to feel you around him sooner. Your legs being held apart by Simeon’s hands, one of his palms resting on your folds holding them open as he teases your clit.  

You feel hotter than before, like all of the earlier romps were nothing compared to the one you were doing with him now. It felt more intimate, Simeon lowering his head to press against yours, kissing your cheek as he pleases you with his fingers and thrusts. He listens to every sigh that escapes your lips, some with his name at the end.

You focus on Simeon, the way he thrusts against your waist driving himself as deep as he gets. Long draw backs of his hips and full pushes back in as hard as he gets when you vocalize for him to go harder. Simeon buries his face into your shoulder where he had bitten it earlier in the day, nibbling on the love bite there. Biting till he did taste a little bit of blood, a lick placed over it in apology. He does however go to the other side of your neck and places a deliberate bite at the crook of your neck.

Simeon hums in approval of how the bites look along your skin, even dipping down to place a few more along your chest. Your legs shake from the over-sensitivity and the fact that he is gentle with loving you. Save for the biting, that you barely notice when he is pressing kiss after kiss over your face, or the hot breath at your ear.

“You’ll look nice carrying my child... I can’t get enough of the mental thought of you heavy with one. Maybe try for more than just one. If I am going to seal my life with yours. I want to have many with you.” Simeon’s voice against your ear, hot breath along it, enough to make you clench down on him.

“Ah, you like that thought. Being full of my seed?” You feel your face burning with each word being said to your ear a kiss following each sentence. It is hard to believe that he is an angel sometimes you wonder if he was closer to falling than he lets on with the freedom he has. Your thoughts are distracted as Simeon stills himself, you look up to him wondering why he stopped.

“I want to change positions, please?” Simeon pulls from you and helps rearrange you, he practically helps pull you to your hands and knees in front of him. You see him grab the pillows and toss them off where the blankets lay to spare them the same from being soiled. Simeon grabs your waist, pulling you to him as he angles you the way he wants you. You look over your shoulder towards him and see him settling behind you.  

He guides himself back inside of you, and it takes a few thrusts to readjust to the rhythm you both lost. Simeon leans over the top of your back as he thrusts wild, tearing cries of pleasure out of you. Your hands scrambling to grab at the headboard scratching the surface when your nails grace it. Simeon is relentless in his pace you hear his panted moans. A hot kiss against your ear.

“I am going to do this every day... with you till there is no doubt you conceive. I think I can persuade Diavolo to have you stay at the Purgatory Hall under the guise of furthering our bond between humans and angels. But in our little secret... We will be like this, needing each other...” You bite your bottom lip at the idea of spending as much time with your angel like this. His thrusts got harder, and Simeon is thrusting deeper into you dragging down to brush that one spot that makes your hands and toes curl.

“What do you think? Want to be with me night and day?” Simeon places a bite at the nape of your neck, just under your hairline. You feel turned on the more he talks about you both like this.  

“I can tell you want the same thing... you are tightening down on me... My lamb... I want you to never leave my side... please stay with me.” You hear the emotion in his voice, and wish you could see his face right now, to see what kind of expression he makes with that tone of voice. As if he is afraid to lose you to the brothers.

“I want this! I want you! Simeon! I want to stay with you... please!” You manage out, feeling a lick along the helix of your ear again. Simeon hugs you from behind, lifting you so you are flush against his chest, he urges your left arm up, and turns you enough to press a heated kiss to your lips. His hands going to your waist rocking them back into his.  

“Good, my love... good... I am going to be deep... Think you can handle me? I will be rough for a bit.” Simeon murmurs against your lips, you feel one of his harder thrusts, him emphasizing what he means. You feel intense pleasure as he hits deep as if he is trying to be inside your womb.  

“I can handle it, as long as you promise me a gentle time later.” A quick peck on your face, and Simeon smiles against your skin as he kisses you. He pushes your hips down hard to his as he thrusts up. The motion and force of his thrusts drawing a higher moan out of you. You push yourself down to meet him finding the way he hits into your g-spot everything you want to feel. Your body is electric, Simeon kneads a breast with a hand as he guides your waist with his free hand.  

What you were not expecting where his wings curling around you both almost cocooning you in them to press you as close as you get. You feel softness as Simeon kisses down your neck to place another hickey on your arm blazing a trail down it, till he kisses the top of your left hand over your ring finger.

You soon feel the swell again, his movements faster as he moves the hand from your breast to rapidly rub your clit. Blinding pleasure runs through your mind, so much you do not realize how hard you cum on his hand. You do hear the load groan in his chest a series of panted moans till he follows you pushing your hips down to his till there is nary a peek of where you begin, and he ends as he fills you with his seed pushing deep in hope, he is successful. Simeon pulls you with him, having you lie on top of him as you thrash and shudder in your orgasm. Simeon pressing repeated kisses on your head and face.

Simeon keeps you there till he pulls from you wiping his fluid covered hand on the bedsheets, you move to flip over and lay on his chest, being tugged up into his arms where he cups your face as you seek kiss after kiss with him. You run your hands through his hair, rubbing his head as you learned how to touch him.  

“Did you mean all that? About asking me to stay here for a while?” You ask him, and Simeon smiles his warm smile, a little mischief behind his eyes.

“Of course, I do. I think it will be easy to persuade Diavolo with what I said. He’ll be thrilled on the surface, plus... if I recall yesterday, you were wanting a break from the brothers.” Simeon hums at the weight of you sitting on his waist. You smooth your hands into his feathers, Simeon lets you touch them, you note how the ends of the feathers have a familiar green tip to them.  

“Do you use one of your feathers as your quill?” You touch along the soft down feathers towards the center seeing him shiver visibly.

“You noticed! Yes, that is one of my feathers.” He raises a hand to run through your hair touching it in the same manner you are his wings.

“They’re pretty. Like you are.” Simeon blushes and presses a hand to his mouth.

“You are prettier lamb.” You lay fully on top of Simeon, and he presses his face into your hair. A happy hum out of him.

When you fall asleep, in his arms; Simeon adjusts and picks you up. He places you in the mess of blankets off his bed and sets about cleaning and remaking the bed itself with fresh linens. Simeon notes you have curled yourself in one of the blankets. A sigh escapes Simeon as he bends down to collect you and the blankets setting you down in the middle of the bed.

Simeon uncovers your face and presses a kiss to it. He also takes a picture of your sleeping face, content and happy from being worn out by the angel. Simeon turns your DDD back on and sees a lot of missed calls and messages. He makes a call to Beelzebub, to explain the situation, that you two had lost track together and you will be back the following day. He finds Beel easier to talk to for relaying information. Promising him one of Luke’s cakes if he can manage to tell the others without Mammon running over to the Purgatory Hall to snag you away from Simeon.

Now all he had to do was make the request to Diavolo.  

[queenmagnusao3]

Bedtime - Lin the Babysitter

“Meelo! Get down from there this instance! I swear if you wake your brother after I just spent an hour getting him to fall asleep I will-“

Lin was cut short by the young airbender hopping down from the roof and landing, very expertly, on Lin’s shoulders. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth got very thin in obvious annoyance.  Meelo crossed his arms on the top of her head and rested his chin on them.

“Where are your sisters?”

“IKKI, JI-“

Lin’s hand shot up and quickly covered the airbender’s mouth.

“What did I just say about waking your brothe- ugck!”

She pulled her hand back down, shaking it furiously.

“Did you just lick me?”

He giggled in response, thumping his heels against her metal chest plate. Having had enough, she grabbed him by one ankle and pulled him from her shoulders so he was hanging upside down in front of her. He laughed uncontrollably and she lifted him up so she could look him in the eye.

“Now you listen to me. We’re going to find your sisters and then it’s time for you all to go to bed. Do you understand?”

“No!”

He wriggled against her grip and Lin felt her stomach drop for a moment when he slipped out of her hand. It was short lived, however, as she was quickly reminded that he was an airbender. He merely twisted around mid-air, landing on his feet like a cat before immediately taking off in the direction opposite the house.

Lin let out a loud groan, throwing her head back in frustration. How did she EVER let Tenzin convince her to babysit his herd of brats. He and Pema had wanted to have night to themselves for the first time since the kids had been born and somehow they had thought she was the best person to keep the children in line. They had sent Meelo to try and sweet talk her and she cursed herself for being unable to say no to his toothy smile as he fed her some bull about her being his hero or something.

As she watched him running farther away from her she made mental note to never fall for his antics again. Deciding that it was best to act before he was completely out of her range she stomped her foot to the ground. Too distracted to be paying much attention to his surroundings, Meelo quickly found his entire lower body encased in earth, his hands trapped by his sides.

“No fair!”

Lin couldn’t help but smirk as she slowly sauntered towards him.

“Meelo, what did you do?”

“She said we have to go to bed!”

“But I don’t want to go to bed!”

“Ikki, Meelo, the sun is setting. You know that means it’s time for bed.”

“Jinora, just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you’re the boss of us!”

“No, but I am.”

Jinora and Ikki were walking up one of the grassy paths when they came across their trapped brother.  Lin put her hands on her hips as she approached in an attempt to look more intimidating. She could regularly make grown men nearly wet their pants with a single glance but these kids weren’t even phased by her general authoritarian demeanor.

“B…but Aunt Lin! Why do we have to go to bed?”

“Because I said so. And don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not your Aunt.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not.”

“Lord Zuko isn’t our dad’s uncle but he still calls him that. And he calls your mom Aunt Toph.”

“That’s because he had a close relationship with both of them growing up.”

Lin released Meelo from his earthen prison and made a motion for him to reclaim his perch upon her shoulders. He squealed with delight before launching himself back up, squeezing his legs tightly against her neck.

“No fair! I want to ride on your shoulders. Meelo always gets to!”

“Meelo, stop squeezing so hard. Ikki, you can ride on my back if you want, just don’t knock your brother off.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Ikki jumped into the air and latched herself onto Lin’s back. With Meelo on her shoulders there wasn’t much space for Ikki to hold on so Lin flicked her hand so one of her cables wrapped around the girl’s behind and crisscrossed over her back like a harness.

“Let’s go!!”

Lin looked over to Jinora with what she hoped was a sympathetic look.

“Sorry, I don’t have any other body parts for you to climb on, kid.”

“EW MEELO FARTED!”

Lin stumbled a bit as she tried to stay upright while Ikki struggled against her back. Meelo was laughing hysterically and kicked his legs hard against her chest. She and Jinora shared a look, both deadpan and completely done with the younger airbender’s antics.

“It’s okay. I prefer to walk.”

Twenty minutes later Lin had managed to get them all into bed. Not their own beds because apparently that was asking too much. Instead she had convinced Jinora to share their parents’ bed with her younger siblings. Lin had formed a silent alliance with the girl and she hoped she’d be able to keep them in line should they decide to rebel against bedtime… again. She carefully pulled the blankets up over the trio, pleading silently with the universe that they’d just go to sleep.

“Now, you all go to sleep and no getting out of bed. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Yeah! Will you throw us in jail?”

“Oh! I’ve always wanted to see what jail is!”

“Me too!”

Meelo was already halfway out of bed when Lin finally lost her temper.

“NO! You. Get back in that bed right now.”

She really did try to not use her police chief voice with the kids but she was just so exhausted and wanted nothing more in the world than for them to go to sleep. Then she saw the looks on their faces. Meelo was frozen, eyes wide as he stared at her. She hadn’t meant for it to come out so abrasively but then Ikki started to cry and she actually felt bad.

“Ikki, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I got a little frustrated.”

“It’s okay. We have been kind of bad, haven’t we?”

Lin, once again, felt bad for making the kids feel like she was upset with them. They definitely were a burden but she didn’t need to make them feel bad about it. They were children. She spent every day dealing with adults who behaved more poorly than Tenzin’s kids, she supposed she could give them a little leeway. She sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled at them.

“No. You haven’t been that bad. I’m just still getting used to looking after you. I don’t have much experience with kids.”

“That is painfully obvious.”

Lin looked to Jinora in surprise and found the young girl giving her a cheeky smile. Oh, she most definitely was becoming Lin’s favorite.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid. Now, back into bed. You really do need to go to sleep.”

“B..but I’m not even tired.”

Meelo yawned, not fighting Lin as she covered him back up with the blanket. Ikki already had her eyes closed and she walked around to the other side of the bed, making sure Jinora was comfortable as well. To Lin’s surprise the girl sat up and wrapped her arms tightly around her neck.

“Thanks for watching us tonight, Aunt Lin.”

Lin didn’t correct her this time, giving her a quick pat on the back before Jinora nestled back into the bed. She surveyed the three of them for a moment. They’re much cuter when they’re quiet. She quietly walked to the door, thinking she had finally achieved the impossible when…

“EW! MEELO!”

Ikki was yelling again while Meelo waved the blanket up and down wildly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help that I’m so full of air. It just has to come out.”

Lin felt like crying. She really did. They had been so close.

“Meelo, Ikki, lay back down. There, the smell is gone.”

Jinora had taken control of the situation before Lin even had a chance to turn back to them. Sending a jet of air around the room to clear it of any unpleasant smells produced by her disgusting little brother. Ikki was still pouting and Meelo gave Lin one of his signature, toothy smiles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just… just please go to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

“What is it Ikki?”

“Tell us a story!”

“It’s way too late-“

“I’m sure we’ll all go right to sleep if you tell us a story.”

“Jinora, I thought you were on my team.”

She looked at her innocently and Lin let out a long sigh.

“Fine. I’ll tell you a story my mother used to tell me and my sister when we were kids.”

They all looked very excited as Lin sat on the edge of the bed again and cleared her throat dramatically.

 “The cats nestle close to their kittens,

 The lambs have laid down with the sheep.

 You are cozy and warm in your bed, my dear.

 Please go the fuck to sleep...”

Ao3 Link

[sergeantsporks]

What Greater Good Do I Have Than You?

Rating: Gen, General Audiences

The titans' hunger must be sated, Merlin knows this. But he wishes he weren't the one who had to do it

@alovesongshewrote said something about “do you think Merlin would kill Douxie for the greater good” and my brain went clickity clack and here we are :D

Ao3

The titans had to be fed.

It was necessary. To maintain order. Balance. Magicians lived forever if not killed—and yet more and more would be born.

So every millennium, a wizard had to die. They had to be killed where their magic could return to the earth, replenishing the earth’s supply, keeping the titans asleep and the Order happy.

That was Merlin’s purpose. It was his calling. It was why he’d been born—to maintain the greater good, to choose a young wizard every millennium to die. To train them, to grow and shape their magic into the perfect vessel, then kill them like a sacrificial lamb.

To raise children for the slaughter.

Again and again.

Apprentices gained and lost.

It became routine. He had to kill them. He needed to kill his apprentice.

Not this one.

He didn’t have a choice—this was how the balance was maintained.

Not Hisirdoux.

He’d killed his last apprentice around a century ago. That one had been harder—that one had grabbed his hand, with tears in her eyes, and had asked simply, why? She hadn’t begged for her life, hadn’t fought back. Simply asked why. He’d needed a break, needed to take a step back from all of the killing.

Arthur had handed him an apprentice on a silver platter, his sister, Morgana. Considerate, given that the fool kept slaughtering magicians in his war against magic. A waste. So many magical lives lost, but none of them in the right place or the right way to maintain the balance.

But Morgana grew too powerful too fast. She forged her own path, far too quickly. Merlin wasn’t able to shape her magic, and she never listened to him.

So when he stumbled across a spellcaster nearly getting his head sliced off by Arthur’s knights, he stepped in. The boy was appropriately grateful. Said he owed Merlin his life.

Something about that hit a nerve. Something about… never mind. It didn’t matter. He had an appropriate sacrifice, and it was time to begin to mold his magic.

Hisirdoux was one of the worst apprentices Merlin had ever had. He was clumsy, used magic as a shortcut to everything, and didn’t follow instructions properly ever.

It was all oddly endearing.

And as he spent more and more time with Hisirdoux (and he had to spend lots of time with him, had to oversee most of his training personally instead of assigning a book to read, because the boy would not learn the spell right if he just read it out of a book, by the seven rings, Merlin was starting to think he was doing it on purpose) he started to… grow fond of him. He found himself wondering if he could skip the sacrifice this time.

But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t—even if he did, Hisirdoux wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter, because the Order would note the lack in the balance, the titans would awaken, and they would all be destroyed.

Maybe he could find a replacement?

What was he thinking?! He’d never taken more than one apprentice at a time, what if one of them asked what had happened to the other? He couldn’t risk Hisirdoux becoming friends with some other apprentice and then trying to prevent their death!

He still found some girl spellcaster anyway, rescued her from Arthur’s knights. She headbutted him in the face and ran away as thanks. So that plan went out the window.

He had time, he had plenty of time, he had 900 years to find a replacement. Or find a way to stop growing so blasted attached to this oaf of an apprentice who broke everything he touched and would likely break his old heart as well.

In the past, Merlin had always managed to find some flaw with his apprentices, one that he exaggerated in his mind until he could pretend it wasn’t such a horrible thing to kill them.

Hisirdoux’s only flaw appeared to be that he cared a little too much. His sweet, trusting apprentice that looked up to him. That and he was clumsy. Merlin could work with that.

So he blew his apprentice’s clumsiness out of proportion. He scolded him every time he dropped something, expressed exasperation that he couldn’t do anything right.

Part of him hoped Hisirdoux would get fed up with it all and run away, where Merlin could never find him again.

But of course he didn’t. No. Of course not. Hisirdoux stayed, no matter how many times Merlin yelled at him, always with that same quiet determination, always sticking with him no matter how hard it got.

He was so determined to become a master wizard, to get his wizard’s staff. Merlin almost wanted to give him one, wanted him to live long enough to become a master wizard.

Morgana was right.

He was an old fool.

And then, one day, he found his apprentice locked in a wardrobe, under a sleeping spell.

Even though he’d just seen his apprentice a few moments ago.

Wonderful.

He confronted the other Hisirdoux, and found out that he was from the future.

900 years to be exact.

Right around when it would be time for the sacrifice.

According to this other Hisirdoux, the Order had attacked them.

So he hadn’t managed to kill Hisirdoux. Hadn’t even tried, based on the way his apprentice treated him.

It was… relieving to hear. Far too relieving, he told himself, considering that it heralded the end times.

When this future Hisirdoux kept arguing, kept pressing him, he shouted that he wouldn’t lose another apprentice. He’d been talking about Morgana, but he realized he couldn’t lose Hisirdoux. He couldn’t kill him, couldn’t kill a single other apprentice, and especially not Hisirdoux.

But… Hisirdoux hadn’t come alone. He’d brought along a young sorceress.

The wheels started turning in Merlin’s mind. He watched as Hisirdoux began to train the girl. As if he knew what a master wizard taking on an apprentice meant—as if he knew what came at the end.

But still.

Still the gears in Merlin’s head clicked quietly, formulating a new plan. The timing would be tricky, there would be such a small window. It wasn’t worth the risk, he shouldn’t go through with it.

But then, timing things was exactly his forte.

Hisirdoux would get his staff. He would be a master wizard.

With all that it entailed.

Still, when Merlin gave him the staff, he didn’t tell him the price of being a master wizard.

He didn’t tell his apprentice his original fate, the fate he was now changing. No, that was a job for himself in 900 years.

They sealed away Morgana, and the gears once again began turning.

Wait 900 years.

Bring the frozen Morgana to the Primal Heartstone.

Free her.

Perform the ceremony.

The magic might not be perfect, since he never had trained her very well, but it would do.

Hisirdoux didn’t ever need to know. He could keep his apprentice, and he didn’t have to put his burden, his heavy, heavy burden, on his son’s shoulders. He could continue on quietly, continue on loathing himself while Hisirdoux lived a long, happy life with his student.

Yes. This would work.

It didn’t work.

Things went wrong from the moment the trollhunter woke him up. And before he knew what was happening, Morgana was dead, and he was back to square one.

Kill Hisirdoux, or put his own burden on his apprentice’s shoulders?

Merlin watched as his son tumbled down into the time portal. He was running out of options!

Douxie returned moments later with his staff.

Maybe it was too late. Maybe it was all over.

No. No. He’d spent too long protecting this world, keeping the balance, losing his own soul to do so. He couldn’t stop now, not now that he finally had someone else to live for. Someone that he was actually protecting the world for.

Young Claire insisted that they go after the trollhunter. Merlin heaved a deep sigh.

“I know of a way to put off the order,” he admitted, “It will delay them for a millennia—that may give us an opportunity to retrieve Jim Lake Junior.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Hisirdoux said confidently.

Blast.

There was only one way to keep Hisirdoux alive. And there was absolutely no way for him to not find out.

Merlin had the ability to open a portal to one singular place. One of fate’s cruel machinations. And open it he did, taking Hisirdoux and Claire through to a place below trollmarket, to the last remaining Primal Heartstone. He sucked in a deep breath.

“Hisirdoux. You wanted to become a master wizard. I have granted you your staff, but there is one last thing I must teach you.”

Claire balked. “I don’t like this place.”

Before she could react, Merlin bound her to the heartstone with his magic. Hisirdoux yelped.

“Master! No! What are you doing?!”

“To keep the balance, to delay the order, a sacrifice must be made. A sacrifice of magic.

“No! You can’t! Not to Claire!”

Merlin could see it. The moment the realization hit him.

“Wait… Were you… planning to kill me?”

Merlin didn’t answer, but he was sure his silence said just as much.

Hisirdoux’s eyes filled with tears, and he gasped like he couldn’t breathe. “This whole time—you were planning on killing me? From the moment you rescued me in the alley—you saved me just so you could kill me later?!”

Merlin created a knife with his magic and held it hilt out towards his son. “Hisirdoux, it is the only way to keep the balance! Master must kill the apprentice—you said you wanted to be a master wizard, well, this is what it entails!”

Hisirdoux pushed the knife away, standing in front of Claire, his arms out. “Then do it. Kill me, like you originally planned. Because I won’t let you harm Claire.”

“Douxie, no!” Claire yelled. Her eyes sparked with magic, but the place was designed for the slaughter of wizards. Merlin’s magic held her.

Hisirdoux’s shoulders were trembling, but he managed a smile. “It’s okay, Claire. This way you can save Jim.”

Merlin’s own hand was shaking on the knife. “Hisirdoux, move! I don’t want to kill you! If you won’t kill Miss Nunez, then I’m afraid I will have to, but I will not lose you!”

“No! If you want to kill someone, if you really think that it’s necessary to save the world… I’m not going to let it be my friends. The only reason I’m alive today is because you planned to kill me. I’m not supposed to be here—my life is forfeit anyway. So do it. Let Claire live.”

Merlin raised the knife, his whole body shaking so hard he thought he might stab himself. Hisirdoux squeezed his eyes shut.

Merlin’s arm fell. “I can’t,” he whispered, so quietly he could barely hear himself.

His son turned his face away, tears leaking out of the corners of his closed eyes. “What are you waiting for? Just do it!”

Merlin hurled the knife down to the ground with a clang. “I CAN’T!” he shouted. He released the magic holding Claire. “Kill me instead,” he told Hisirdoux, collapsing to his knees in front of the heartstone, “I cannot kill you, and you will not kill Claire. So kill me instead.”

“What? No! We’ll find another way!”

“I might kill him,” Claire offered.

Merlin transferred the discarded knife to Hisirdoux’s hands with a spell. “Do it. I’ve killed so many apprentices. I cannot continue doing this—please. Avenge them. It is only fitting for me to die at the hands of my own apprentice, after I killed so many. Kill me, stave off the Order, save the trollhunter. You’ll have a millennium to find your other way—I could have looked for another way, should have looked for another way all this time. But I didn’t. That is my failing.”

Hisirdoux dismissed the knife in a puff of blue smoke, offering Merlin a hand up. “No. No more deaths, no more sacrificing wizards to this. We’re finding another way. We’ll save Jim. We’ll fight the Order. But I’m not going to continue this cycle.”

“Is every life so precious to you?” Merlin mumbled, “Even a life as decrepit and horrendous as my own?”

“Every life. We just lost Jim—I’m not losing anyone else. Not like this.” Hisirdoux pulled Merlin up to his feet. “You want to make up for what you did to your other apprentices so badly? You won’t do it by dying. You have to live, and repair the mistakes you made. You can accomplish good things, I know it, but you can’t do that if you die here.”

Merlin felt his eyes grow suspiciously wet. “What could I possibly accomplish that would be greater than saving you?”

His son’s eyes teared up, but he brushed them away and nodded to the still-open portal. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

[datleggy]

Post-demise At Hand

TW: mentions of past OD, past drug use, off screen death of character (Alex), grief, anger, misunderstandings 

TK isn’t sure how to react to the news, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 

He learns about the death of his ex through a post on Instagram via an old mutual friend of theirs that he hasn’t been in contact with since even before he packed up his life and moved to Texas. It’s hashtagged: #RIP #gonetoosoon and TK almost laughs out loud like some kind of maniac, because is that all Alex's life amounted to in the end? 

Two half-assed hashtags and a badly edited picture of Alex smirking at the person who took the stupid photograph in the first place. TK remembers that day; Alex had finally passed his drivers test and gotten his license. He remembers telling Alex to smile, remembers his ex boyfriend turning to him, rolling his eyes, saying something like “Why did I bother with this again? We live in New York.” except TK can’t remember what he said to Alex to be on the receiving end of that knowing little smirk. 

The one he can’t stop staring at now. 

“Earth to TK!” 

TK almost drops his phone onto the floor, blinking up at the person waving their hand in his face. “Huh?” 

Judd gives him a curious look. “Been calling you for like a straight minute, kid, you doin’ alright?” 

TK nods. “Yeah, sorry, yeah, I’m good, I was reading an article, I uh, got distracted.” he shakes his head. “What’s up?” 

“Your boyfriend’s downstairs lookin’ for you--” Judd tries not so subtly to peek at whatever it is that’s got TK so enraptured and catches a glimpse of a familiar face, one that gives him pause. 

He frowns. “TK, what the hell? Stalking your ex, seriously?” he blurts the accusation outloud without thinking, which is of course the very moment Carlos and Paul come gallivanting up the stairs, their laughter at something one of them said dying out abruptly. 

Paul’s eyes dart between the two men and he clears his throat awkwardly before motioning for Judd to skedaddle with him. Judd, who couldn’t take a hint if it hit him on the side of the head like a tire iron, simply folds his arms across his chest expectantly. “Well? Your fella’s right over there, so what’re you doing all up in your ex boyfriends business?” 

Paul sighs. Jesus. “Judd. Maybe we should give them some privacy?” Carlos is scarily silent next to him and Paul just knows shit’s about to hit the fan, and he’d rather be far far away when it does happen. 

Carlos swallows hard, wipes his hands against his uniform pants, and says, “It’s fine. I’ll um, I’ll see you at home.” before turning around and going back the way he came. 

“Man.” Paul stares at TK, who hasn’t uttered a single word as of yet. “You’re not gonna go follow after him?” 

Judd scoffs. “And do what? Tell him it’s not what it looks like?” 

TK blinks rapidly a few times, as if coming out of a daze. “I--” His eyes go wide when he realizes what’s happened. “Shit.” he runs over to the edge of the railing to call for Carlos, but his boyfriend apparently bolted, because he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Judd whistles loudly behind him, arms still crossed disapprovingly. “Carlos is a good catch, TK, shouldn’t be messin’ around with him if you’re not--” 

TK whirls around to face him, the look on his face mutinous. “I wasn’t stalking my ex on Instagram Judd! Get your head outta your ass and outta my business!” 

Judd takes a step forward and Paul can see where this is headed; he immediately gets in between the two men, arms raised. “Hey! Enough! You two need to relax.” 

Judd huffs. “I’m not the one tryna step out on my--” 

“Alex is dead.” Saying it outloud is surreal. 

Alex is dead. 

What the fuck. 

Paul and Judd both give pause. 

“What?” 

TK sighs, aggravated, and shows them the post he’d been caught looking at earlier. 

“TK...” Paul gulps. “I’m sorry man.” 

TK nods but doesn’t utter a word. 

Judd cringes. “Crap, I--” He wants to smack his head against the palm of his hand as hard as he can. “I’m such a heel, Jesus TK, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed--I’m so sorry.” 

TK leans his back against the railing and this time it’s his turn to cross his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well...tell that to Carlos.” 

“TK I’ll call him right now and tell him I misunderstood, I swear--” 

TK interrupts him again with a shake of his head. “No, no, it’s better if I just explain it myself.” he looks up at Judd through long lashes and manages a half hearted grin. “I guess I should be happy you respect my boyfriend enough to snitch on my ass?” 

Judd knows TK’s throwing him a bone, but still, he doesn’t feel he can take it. “I do,” he admits. “But that don’t mean I should’ve went ahead and assumed the worst. You deserve better than that and for that I’m especially sorry.” The whole thing with his own father in law stepping out on his Grace’s mother is still messing around with his head, but that was no excuse to think the worst of TK, of all people. 

But TK tells him not to sweat it, he’ll call Carlos and tell him everything, no big, really. And then he asks the two men not to mention anything about any of this to the Captain or to any of the rest of the team, if it can be helped. 

Paul frowns. “TK, it’s not good to try and go through these types of things alone, you know.” 

TK shakes his head. “I’m not trying to, really. I just,” he shrugs, looking a little like a lost lamb. “I don’t really know how I feel about it yet? So I’d rather not deal with everybody’s sympathies right now, if that’s ok.” 

**********************

He calls Carlos but gets sent straight to voicemail every single time and when that doesn’t work he texts him that whatever he thought was going on, there was nothing to worry about, that he would explain if Carlos would just pick up his damn phone. 

Work gets progressively busier after that and TK barely has time to catch his breath, much less to try and get into contact with his boyfriend, and so it’s not until the very end of his shift, hours later, that he’s able to rush home--that is, he thinks sullenly, if Carlos hasn’t changed all the locks on him.

TK shakes his head; Carlos wouldn’t do that. He’s probably stewing though, and that thought doesn’t make TK feel any better as he steps past the threshold and inside. He’s had such a long and tiring day he hasn’t even had time to properly process what’s happened to Alex. 

Carlos has cooked dinner, if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication. He’s at the table eating alone with the TV on in the other room for background noise, and he doesn’t even look up to greet TK, only motions towards the stovetop vaguely. “Help yourself.” he mutters. 

TK ignores the food and takes a seat right across from Carlos, leans over the table with a grimace. “Babe, I swear to you it’s not like that. Judd misunderstood what happened--” 

Carlos sets his fork down with a clatter that startles TK into jumping slightly. “Look, I get it, moving in is a huge commitment, it’s scary, I know, but I didn’t think you would--” 

“Please,” TK stops him. “Please let me just explain, please.” he hastily takes his phone out of his back pocket and opens the app. He can hear Carlos sigh above him but it doesn’t deter TK from finding the post and holding it up to his face. “This is what Judd saw me looking at.” 

Carlos reluctantly lays eyes on the photo, his irritation and hurt only peeking when he sees that it’s a photo of TK’s almost fiance. That is, of course, until he reads the caption, notices the hashtags below, and suddenly it all makes sense. He doesn’t know quite what to say, except: “Oh.” 

TK nods. “Caught me by surprise. I um, I haven’t heard from him since, well, you know. So I didn’t really know how to react when I found out and then Judd came up behind me and I mean, you know the rest of the story…” 

“Oh.” Carlos says again, because he’s still trying to process the news. 

“Yeah.” TK shrinks back in his chair and the wounded look of him finally snaps Carlos out of it.  

“Crap,” Carlos groans. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He gets up and rounds the table, kneeling down in front of TK. “I was hurt and I ran off without letting you even get a word in, that was messed up and I’m sorry. Are you ok?” He makes a face at his own question, because of course TK isn’t ok. The man he’d proposed marriage to a little over a year ago now has passed, after all. 

There’s no way he’s ‘ok’. 

“I uh, I don’t know.” TK admits quietly. 

Carlos puts a hand on his knee and squeezes gently. “It’s ok to be sad, Ty.” 

TK shakes his head. “It’s--I’m not. I’m not sad. I think? I mean...it’s not like we were on friendly terms, you know? I’m more surprised I guess, than anything else. He was still so young.” 

Carlos nods solemnly. “How did it happen, do you know?” 

TK clears his throat and scratches at the back of his head. “The obituary I found online said it was some kind of car accident near PA. I didn’t really find out any more details than that, though. The funeral was earlier this afternoon.” 

Carlos blinks. “Oh. None of your friends from New York said anything? Before today?” The fact that TK had to find out through Instagram is probably half the reason his boyfriend is finding it so hard to react properly to the tragic news. 

“I didn’t really bother to keep in contact with a lot of our friends when I left, to be honest. And plus, they were all Alexs’ friends before becoming mine. So he kinda had the right to keep them after the divorce...in a manner of speaking.” TK runs a hand through the greasy locks of his hair and grimaces. “Anyway, I should probably go shower, it’s been a long day and I’m kinda gross.” 

Carlos nods, letting TK worm his way out of the conversation without too much fuss. 

**********************

In the shower TK stands under the spray of hot water and stares blankly at the tiled wall in front of him, irritated by the jumbled thoughts plaguing him. God, he thinks, I could really use a drink right about now. 

What exactly is he supposed to be feeling right now? 

Grief? 

Anger? 

Or perhaps regret. 

It’s not as though TK ever got any real closure with Alex and now he never would. After being rejected by the man and worse yet, told he’d been replaced, TK hadn’t wanted to feel any of that pain and had gone to great and dangerous lengths to make sure he was good and numb that night. 

He hadn’t meant to overdose. But he’d popped a couple of pills initially, so sure that he could control himself this time, that this time it would be different. But twenty minutes later when the two little white pills had done nothing to soothe his aching heart TK thought, what’s two more? And then two more after that, and then maybe two more, and then he’d lost count, but fuck it, if he hadn’t felt better in the moment. 

The pills had worked! He couldn’t feel a thing, his head was blessedly empty and suddenly this giant weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe again. Until he couldn’t. 

The water is cold by the time TK steps out of the tub. He dries himself off and slips on a pair of boxer shorts and an old gray t-shirt. 

Carlos is waiting for him in the kitchen with a full plate, reheated, and normally the smell would be appetizing, but tonight it makes TK a little sick. “You alright? You were in there a while.” 

TK nods. “M’good.” 

“Here, sit, you should eat something before going to bed.” he sets the plate down in front of him and TK just stares at it like it’s the first time he’s seen food in a while and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. 

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep. I’m tired.” 

Carlos nods, his lips pursed like he wants to say something more, but instead all he says is, “Ok.” 

******************

It’s nearly three in the morning when TK wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He’s not sure how he does it, but he manages not to wake Carlos up as he sneaks out of their bed. 

A few minutes later he’s outside in his sweatpants and a hoodie, mindlessly jogging along his usual route. It’s not drugs or alcohol, but running does help. He runs and runs and runs until it hurts and even then, he keeps on running. It’s not until the cramping in his stomach is too much to bare that he finally stops and lets his body rest on a park bench. 

And it’s then that he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and realizes he’s got three missed calls. “Shit.” he picks up immediately, holding the phone up to his ear with a shaky hand. “Hey.” 

“Where are you? TK, it’s almost five in the morning. What’s going on?” Carlos sounds frenzied on the other end of the line and TK can’t say he blames him. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, I went out on a run and I lost track of time. I’m headed home now, sorry. Go back to bed.” 

“I can come pick you up, where are you?” 

TK sighs. “Carlos, seriously, I’m within walking distance, don’t worry, I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.” he hangs up without letting the other man get another word in, which he knows isn’t right, but can’t really find it in himself to care. 

His legs feel like jello when he gets up and the trek back to their place is torturous enough to make TK regret telling Carlos not to bother getting him. By the time he makes it home he’s limping slightly and his stomach is in knots. 

The door swings open before TK can even take out his keys, and Carlos is standing there at the entrance looking a mixture of concerned and annoyed. 

TK rolls his eyes and ignores the look, pushing his way inside and kicking off his shoes at the door. “What?” he snaps, when Carlos won’t stop staring at him. 

Carlos frowns. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what? What are you talking about? I went out for a run. You’re acting like I went out to shoot up at a meth lab or something. I was gone for less than two hours!” TK half shouts, his frustration spiking up a notch. 

“Stop shutting me out. I know you’re upset about what happened to Alex, but you can’t just-” 

“About what happened to Alex?” TK scoffs incredulously. “Nothing happened to Alex, Carlos, he died. That’s not something that happens to someone and then they like, get the fuck over it! He died! He’s dead! Gone! Never gonna see him again, didn’t get to say bye or even fuck you to the guy, he just went ahead and died and that’s that!” TK lets out a choked little laugh that sounds more like a cry than anything and covers his face with both hands, tries his best to get his shit together and under control, but it’s no use. 

It’s quiet for a long time and then TK speaks again and it's soft and agonized, “I loved him.” 

And Carlos nods, takes him by the shoulders and leads him to the stairs, where they both sit down and TK buries himself into Carlos, into his safe haven, and his breath hitches loudly and Carlos says, “I know.” and TK lets out a big broken sob. 

“I’m here.” Carlos assures him gently, “I’m here. It’s gonna be ok.”

.