#angsty Lamb thoughts

[spookitordukeit]

Lamb who doesn’t know how to be a lamb…

Lamb who lost their family too early to know how lambs act…

Lamb who is a mishmash of different animal habits and mannerisms…

Lamb who has nothing but occasional instincts in the back of their brain that may or may not be lamb things…

Lamb who didn’t forget about the sheepfolks culture, lamb who never learned, lamb who never had the chance to be taught…

Lamb feeling a hole in their chest and not knowing how to fill it…

Lamb yearning for something they can’t describe…

[spinnysocks]

spinny!! I’m curious, what got you into the lion guard?

EHEHEE YAY I LOVE ASKS LIKE THIS!! don't mind me rambling about how i got into it :3

i watched the lion guard originally as a young teen! my memories are foggy, so i can't say how much i liked it, but i do remember ono being my favourite and that i watched enough to remember a lot of the episodes when i revisited it a few years later. i rewatched it out of childhood nostalgia and curiosity - i wanna say around 2020 maybe? - and developed a hyperfixation on it, specifically on janja! back then, i kinda only cared about his character and a few others such as timon, pumbaa, scar and kiburi, though janja was the character who i was actually interested in. i had even bought a lion king notebook to write a snippet of an au i had for him, i still have it lmaoo

because of how my hyperfixations work, i get obsessed over one fandom for a while until it switches to another. for instance, most of last year i hyperfixated on the madagascar movies - those periods of hyperfixating would last anywhere from hours to months until shifting to, for example, the lion guard. it also wasn't my main fandom at the time, madagascar was. that changed in november last year, when i found that there was a LOT of cool lion guard content on here (especially @devilsrecreation's outlanders posts!). i began to interact a little bit which made me hyperfixate on it even more. i made my first lion guard post in december, and that's where my posting and very long hyperfixation on it began!! since then i've had like a landslide of constant thoughts about this silly show, and i've picked up a lot of new favourite characters along the way (such as kiburi and his float, beshte, goigoi, dogo, literally all of the outlanders...). i've barely shifted hyperfixations since then and the show has very swiftly become a favourite media of mine! :3

so, i guess seeing content being made AND making my own has made me hyperfixate on it endlessly (/pos btw). i've specifically hyperfixated on the outlanders as you can probably tell lol. essentially, ✨the power of hyperfixations✨ lead me to being on and posting on this site, but the show has always been for me since i was a teen c:

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[beenbaanbuun]

Haiii this might be a weird request but I wonder if you could write an angsty Addams!MATZ fic 😭 so sorry if this is weird I've just been feeling really angsty! You can choose whatever happens lol I just wanna cry 🫶🏽

sorry i didn’t write this sooner!!! i really wanted to but i’ve been super busy over the past few days :(( i never feel super confident writing angst but i did my best!!! i hope you enjoy :D

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hongjoong yelled at you… hongjoong never yells. he doesn’t yell when yeosang is being difficult to train or just acting downright feral. he doesn’t yell when clients are being cheeky and asking for far too much. he doesn’t even yell when you’re being a brat and he slips into ‘dom mode’ to punish you. yet he yelled at you just a few minutes ago…

why?

it’s your fault, you tell yourself. if you’d just listened when he told you he was busy, none of this would’ve happened. he was already stressed so why did you think being a brat and pushing his buttons would be a good idea? of course he wouldn’t want to deal with you when he already so much else on his plate with work. it was dumb of you to even think he’d give you the time of day.

you try and keep your tears to a minimum as you stalk through the house. noisy crying would only be another distraction to hongjoong and you don’t want to upset him any more than you already have done. still, despite your best attempts, you can help the shuddered breathing and quiet sniffles as you make your way down the stairs and towards your favourite spot in the house.

the fire is already crackling, drawing you in like the pied piper. you can hear the hushed conversation behind the soft crepitation, but you ignore it, entirely too focussed on how nice it will be to flop onto your favourite rug and fall into a slumber. perhaps when you wake, everything will be fine. maybe hongjoong won’t be mad at you anymore. he’ll smile at you as he tells you you’re forgiven, placing a kiss to your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips. he’ll take you up into his arms and apologise for yelling, speaking to you in the softest, most gentle voice he can muster. it’s a nice thought…

you reach the doorway to the living room, staring up at the large, oak arch that reaches high above your head. it’s carved with intricate details all hand finished by their artist friend, yunho. most of it represents their respective histories, each of their tales beginning from the bottom of the arch and climbing the wood like vines until they reach the apex at the top. prior to your arrival, their wedding had been the carving at apex of the arch, the image of two ravens, each holding a ring within their beaks, sat proudly above everything else.

now, though, the image at the top is entirely different. a lamb with dove wings and a dainty collar around its neck. the ravens still sit proudly on either side of the creature, watching over it as it sleeps. as you stare at it, you can’t help but wonder whether hongjoong will still be upset with you come bedtime. there’s a spare room down the hall that you used to sleep in when you were nothing more than their sugar baby and it was too late for them to send you home alone. perhaps you’ll have to reside in that room tonight, cold and alone and unable to sleep without the warmth of your lovers on either side of you. the thought has you biting your lip to silence a sob.

it doesn’t quite work. you still involuntarily whimper, catching the attention of both seonghwa and yeosang. their hushed conversation halts to a stop as they see you at the doorway, eyes wide and wet as you stare up at the very tippy-top of the arch. your fingers tangle themselves up as they helplessly fiddle with one another, tugging and twisting and picking until blood begins to pool along one of your nail beds. seonghwa can’t recall a time he’s ever seen you like this, and there werewolf had certainly never. they share a wary look.

“my darling lamb,” seonghwa calls to you in a hushed voice. he doesn’t want to startle you by being too loud, but he needs to pull you from this anxious haze you’d found yourself trapped in. he can’t lie that he’s a little relieved when your red ringed eyes flicker over to meet his. smiling is the last thing he wants to do upon seeing you in this state, but he knows his gentle disposition will calm you; it always does. his lips curl up softly. “what happened?”

the werewolf that has taken up residence on your favourite rug watches with concerned eyes. ever since his arrival, you’ve been an annoying little shit. an absolute thorn in his side when he wanted nothing more than to have a peaceful existence in his new home. you have no respect for personal space, you never know when to shut up, and you’re always way too cheerful all the time. they were facts that yeosang just had to accept when he realised you weren’t threatened by his harsh growling and gnashing teeth. all those times he had you pinned to the floor, spit spraying as he warned you to leave him the fuck alone only to have you giggle in his face and call him pretty; that person is nowhere to be seen right now.

“pup?” he hums, deep voice grumbling as his worries work themselves into his tone. even though he quite thoroughly despised you on his entry to the house, it seems you have this magical ability to work your way into the hearts of anyone you set your sights on. you set your sights on him before you even knew him; it took you no time at all to become one of his top priorities. “tell us what’s the matter. we can’t help unless we know?”

you take a few tentative steps into the room, bare feet tapping lightly against the parquet floor. they’re so used to your thundering footsteps as you traverse the house at your excitable pace. the silent footsteps you take towards them make their skin crawl.

you reach the rug, gently lowering yourself until your bare thighs hit the soft fur. your pastel blue skirt—the one that seonghwa had picked out to match the werewolf’s fuzzy blue jumper—bunches up around your waist, but neither of them have the time to admire how perfectly slutty it looked. it hardly seems right when you continue to wordlessly snivel and whimper, not even bothering to lay yourself down alongside your favourite werewolf-shaped pillow.

“hongjoong was mean to me,” you whimper, and seonghwa can’t lie, it confuses him.

hongjoong is mean to you a lot. it’s how he punishes you for being a brat, bullying you into submission until you decide to be a good girl. he calls you names, pushes you around a little—it’s nothing too severe but still enough for him to have earned the reputation as the crueler of the two of them. for a second, seonghwa thinks he’s landed on the answer, you must’ve been a little too bratty and couldn’t handle the consequences…

but that still doesn’t make sense.

if you couldn’t handle the consequences then that must’ve meant you weren’t in the right headspace to be punished. that in itself is nothing new, although normally, you tend to realise that before you decide to go and act out. it could’ve been the case that you didn’t realise you weren’t feeling up for a punishment but then you should’ve used your safeword. the fact that you’re sat downstairs with him and yeosang and not snuggled up in hongjoong’s arms is testament to the fact that you can’t have done that either. his husband would never do something so utterly stupid as to let you out of his sight when you’re clearly still upset over a scene you stopped.

so what happened?

did you just force yourself to take a punishment you didn’t want? no. seonghwa knows you’re too smart to do that just like he knows his husband is too observant not to notice. it’s something else entirely. something that seonghwa just can’t put his finger on.

“i need a little more information than that, darling,” seonghwa coos as he leans forwards to rest his elbows on his lap. his chin sits prettily in the palms of one hand, the other coming to rest atop your head. he pets you a few times, his touch like a cloud as tries to soothe you. your shoulders relax a touch, but your fingers still pick at one another in your lap. seeing you in such a state makes his heart sink. “lamb, what exactly did hongjoong do to make you so upset?”

you sniffle, separating your hands for just a second to wipe your tears away. they fall right back onto your lap, twisting and tugging and smearing the blood around. seonghwa can’t help but be thankful that nothing in the house is pale enough to be stained by your blood; otherwise he’d be marching you the bathroom to wash your hands, begging you to tell him what happened as the two of you walk.

“he yelled at me,” you say simply, as if that would answer all of seonghwa’s questions. it doesn’t. in fact it only fills his mind with more.

“he yelled? as in he raised his voice?” seonghwa asks softly. he hopes that the answer is no; that you just mean that hongjoong has scolded you for something. it’s a little bit of a strong reaction for just a small telling off, but you have been known to take these sorts of things to heart.

but you nod, and seonghwa’s heart sinks. hongjoong never yells at anyone, let alone you, his little dove. seonghwa and yeosang pass an odd look between them.

“master yelled at you?” the werewolf hums as he shuffles his body closer to yours. an arm wraps around your waist and effortlessly tugs you until you’re lay flat against the rug alongside the pretty creature. he lays the hand atop your own, stopping you from doing any more damage to your nail beds. the blood that spills onto his hands is nothing that bothers him. “why would master do that?”

the question is more aimed towards seonghwa than it is you. as close as you are with the couple, it’s only really seonghwa that knows the inner workings of his husbands brain. he always has an explanation to everything hongjoong does…

“i don’t know,” he says, a frown taking over his beautiful features. you hate it because you know it’s your fault. you upset hongjoong, you got yelled at, you told seonghwa, and now you have upset him. every sign points to you…

“it’s my fault,” you whisper. yeosang’s arm tightens around your waist in an instinctive display of protection. from what, he isn’t too sure. “i just wanted him to take a break but he’s too busy right now. i should’ve known.”

of course. seonghwa could’ve guessed it would be down to stress. it’s been a rough few weeks for hongjoong, the stress of yeosang arriving and finding his way into their weird, mismatched family, mixed with an increase in customers with the jewellery business, it’s safe to say hongjoong had barely had a moment free. of course, yeosang has calmed a little by now, but that doesn’t take the stress of the business away from his poor husband. he’s still being worked half to death by demanding clients who have more money than sense.

seonghwa imagines that any moment now, his husband will come to his senses and see that you were just trying to do something nice. that you weren’t just being difficult for the sake of it—which, granted, you often are—but were instead just trying to take care of him. you lacked the grace and finesse that the two of them did, but you still tried. demons, it fills his heart with love to know that you desire to care for them in the same way they care about you. you’re such a precious little lamb for them; they must’ve done something very special in their past life to deserve you.

“oh, my lamb,” seonghwa mumbles through a soft smile, “you have nothing to blame yourself for except being at the mercy of your own empathy. you prodded him because you were worried and that’s very thoughtful of you. your daddy should be worshipping you for such a kind act. i’ll go and see if i can’t talk some sense into him, hm?”

he stands up, long flowing trousers pooling gracefully over his feet. his red nails dance along them as he straightens the material out, trying to iron out the creases with only his bare hands.

“i’ll be back soon,” he hums, “let your puppy take care of you for now.”

[neigepomme]

some angsty thoughts about caleb's character / cw: calebmc lore

sometimes thinking about caleb makes my heart hurt so bad it's terrible.. i love caleb's yandere tendencies as much as the next person, but when i sit alone with my thoughts and think of what made him this way, i can't help but feel upset at how unfair life has been to him.

mc and him are both orphans, and to think that they were experimented on and pit against one another — only for them to instead care for each other is just so cruel.

do you think that young caleb yearned for his mother's warmth? that in the dead of night, he prayed to whichever god would listen, asking to be rescued? that he considered using his own evol to bring an end to his misery?

how did he react when mc held onto his hand for the first time? the being who's at the root of his pain, the one who he's been forced to go against — the one he should dislike, if not hate, holding onto his hand with their own. caleb, who yearned for the warmth and the safety of a home, suddenly being thrust into being another lone soul's only family.

did he hate it?

"i'm scared, and i don't know what the future holds for me — if it even holds anything", he'd think.

"but they're smaller and more scared."

always a protector, never the protected.

did he want to live? sort of. he's afraid of death and so living seemed like the only viable option.

but if the cost of living is to push his needs out, to always put mc above himself — is it really worth it?

caleb is the sacrificial lamb wearing the skin of the executioner, even though he never asked to be either of those.

[jjslvt]

PRIMAL DESIRES, BEAUTIFUL REAPER ── .✦ PART TWO .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤷ heartbreaker!rafe cameron x reader // nsfw, smut, mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ

part one // masterlist // notes: here is the final part for this! this is poetic angsty smut! the first part is just an angst drabble! this is a rewritten work of mine (includes rough & unprotected; be safe when having sex y’all!) [ wc: 2k / first person pov ]

A familiar sensation, of Rafe Cameron fucking me well into oblivion. His cock was so deeply swallowed by me, making me moan out incoherent words. A game that we played except it wasn’t a game to me; yet I let myself stay as a player.

Once he heard those sinful sounds escape from my lips, his smirk widened. His eyes twinkled with pride because he knew what he does to me. He fucking knew.

I enjoyed the pleasure too; it would be a lie to say that I didn’t. My body undoubtedly craved his just as he seemed to want to mold into mine, trying to possess me.

I wanted him in every way imaginable but I don’t just mean this erotic dance we engaged in. Ah, I digress.

Rafe Cameron knew how to fuck and make you feel like you’re on top of the world, that was the simple truth.

On the other hand, I had wished he was fucking me out of pure love… but I knew better than to believe the sweet praises falling from those lips. The praises left a bittersweet taste in my mouth as I both relished and ached at those delicious words.

Maybe deep down… he did feel something as this was reoccurring. The full length of his shaft seemed to find a home in the tightness of my heat. Never getting tired of the pleasurable sensation, him nor I.

I couldn’t read his mind; he’d never offer to share any depth. I wasn’t the most angelic of people either — I wanted to dive into that tortured soul of a mind, the curiosity was a brutal need. I wish I could trick him into doing so, make him spill his darkened heart.

I just wanted to know… what he hides inside.

Yet I felt that sometimes, I was the only one who could understand him. Who could pick up the cues. I knew he was a mess of a person — the prettiest boy, full of destruction and loneliness; a violent boy, full of rage and pain that others failed to see. I noticed everything about him.

But not what he thinks of me. He needs someone. Who can that someone be? It won’t be me, no matter how hard I wish upon the stars in the night sky to grant me this one thing. Why would it?

This is the prison of chaos not the oasis of miracles.

In the primal sense, it seemed like he needed ME but love? He’s charismatic to a few other girls at rare times, which makes me turn green; my eyes full of jealousy burning behind his back. A burning that I had to dip into the vast ocean to cleanse out of my system before the pain in me revealed itself. This was where the problems that choked me lay. I think he knew that I watched him… I think he wanted to make me jealous — he found it humorous.

Fuck, I was as possessive as he was though. I just hid it well externally. And yes, he spoke possessively to me, maybe because it was the heat of passion.

“You feel amazing, fuck…” A grunt escaped his mouth at a particularly rough thrust that had my insides shaking. I arched a bit, accepting how greedily he wanted to bury himself inside of me — stretching me more and more to my limits every single time.

“You’re mine, say it… argh, haa…” he practically growled that out as I whimpered.

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have.

Yet my heart instantly responded with a ‘yes, I’m utterly yours, you fool.’ That whimper caused him delight as his eyes darkened at me.

But I had a small piece of pride during these moments when he wrecked me; a shudder in my body serving to his pleasure. A pride he would no doubt, break down.

He took his free hand that wasn’t gripping my hip with a bruising force and pried my mouth fully open with his thumb. His movements speed up, slamming with reckless abandon now. ‘He’s close,’ I thought. He slightly pushed his thumb into my mouth, holding the bottom of my jaw with the rest of his hand, the tip of his thumb touching my bottom teeth, moving further in — trying to feel a bit of my tongue.

“Say it, sweetheart… c’mon, say that you’re mine,” he didn’t growl it this time. Much to my surprise, it almost sounded like a plea rather than a command and that’s how devilish he was. He knew I would weaken at that tone right away. I cursed my weakness.

Gasping out, I mumbled, “A-ah… y-yours…”

“Whose?” His thrust punctuated that question and his hand was still there, wanting me to mumble more. Back to commanding — to make it rip out of me.

“Yours… R-Rafe… I’m yours.” My mouth betrayed my little pride despite it being the truth. I had no eyes for anyone else.

He groaned in satisfaction and cockily grinned a little, then dipped his thumb fully into my mouth, making me suck. My lips closed in and my tongue moved slightly because I would have kissed and licked every part of him.

And I did.

Just as he also did it; he would worship my body sometimes. Making sure every inch of it got attention… got touched, kissed, licked, sucked; all of it. Covering me in marks as if I were his work of art, a masterpiece he wished to display because he created it and owned it.

It wasn’t always a frantic fuck — a mindless release but this was what made me wish more; that he would never even glance at someone else, even if he was doing it to fuck with me.

My dark thoughts oozed out, the fact that I wanted to cage him and hide him from any others. See, I was pathetically obsessed with him.

He didn’t know the full extent of it; he knew I cared. Knew I was whipped to the core but he didn’t know these dark thoughts because he treated me like an angel to play with.

Or the lion devouring the lamb.

And this lamb wasn’t going to expose the whole truth put in the locked vault of my body, chains around it.

“Such an innocent face…” he rasped out, his pumps into me gaining even more speed suddenly. I could feel the throbbing of his long cock start to grow. My eyes were somewhat half-lidded, gazing at him with everything. The shimmer of light illuminated their colors. He loved my eyes for some reason and said they expressed more than I knew. Only at this moment.

My deep subconscious thinking, ‘Yeah, innocent face hiding more filthy desires.’

“You’re so radiant, shining brighter than the fuckin’ sun,” another rasp came out as his thumb slipped out of my mouth. My saliva coated it so he placed it near his mouth, his tongue swiping his thumb to taste the wetness I left on him.

He whispered for a moment but loud enough so I could hear, “Actually… if you were the sun itself, hngh, I’d keep staring even though I’d go blind. Does that make you happy?”

He would add in something like that, so randomly — his secretive charming tricks just crashed into the open. Was it oddly cheesy? Maybe. Yet it still made goosebumps appear on my skin and made my face start to heat up. It made me feel like I had a damn chance, especially with how that voice sounded.

And obviously, it made me happy to get Rafe Cameron to even say such sweet things to me.

Then he swiped his tongue at it once more.

“Mn, tastes divine…” he murmured like a starved man, getting closer and closer to the edge of his release. He put that hand back on the other side of my hip; both hands firmly pinning me down to his bed more now. I squirmed because I always loved feeling his hands on me, even if they were hurting me a little.

There was a gratification in that pain.

“The sweetest fruit I could ever take a bite of…” his face contorting in the most wonderful form of pleasure as he poured out those words, like the silver-tongued devil he suddenly became — the man who didn’t do talks like this yet here he was, telling me such while being sinful.

“Y’know that, right? How sweet you are… I can’t let anyone else taste it.”

The blood in my veins felt like it was ablaze, scorching my body with the heat he created.

“So warm… God — so tight…” he panted with an almost whine that ruined me; he struggled to speak a little as his hips were rapidly bucking in. His stamina was something else and the relentlessness of his speed, like he was a creature. But I took him well… a match to him.

My body tensed up at his continuous praises, ready to follow him in the orgasmic bliss that was about to wash over us. He could feel that I was close too as he stayed attuned to me and so, he leaned over while continuing to fuck me until I saw stars. Both of us were on the edge of spilling as his mouth planted onto mine, making this moment intimate. The bed creaked from his force, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping and the noises our mouths made that were now muffled; consuming each other.

More like, him consuming me as I couldn’t fight his dominance.

His kiss almost felt like it was stealing my soul, searching for all the love he could find. Taking in every moan or whine out of me, his tongue plunging into my mouth — seeking the taste of the fruit he had taken bites of before, exploring deeply. Sometimes he’d pull my tongue out a bit so he could suck on it then resume kissing me more after. That made me feel like I was on cloud nine. That made me writhe underneath him as butterflies filled my stomach with the way he worked on me.

Then the bite would come, nibbling my bottom lip then sinking those teeth harder in, tugging to make tears slip out of me. Tears that I didn’t mind giving because I was in ecstasy.

“Rafe…” I choked out, barely sounding normal at all and his body shook.

My eyes rolled back as his cock hit that special spot and let go. He moved his face away, letting my bottom lip go — throwing back his head as his jaw clenched & he let out a guttural groan, “fucking hell… f-fuck… love.”

He had exploded inside of me… copious amounts of his cum filling me; his cock twitching in the contentment of his climax. He collapsed on top of me instantly due to the quantity, almost squishing me and keeping that strong grip on my hips. My hands had gripped his arms sometime between it all, now shaking.

‘Love,’ why did he have to call me that? It wasn’t fair. I cried out loudly, finding my finish as well as my whole body arched into his again despite him pressing me into the bed. I think I was convulsing beneath him; more tears streaming down my face.

His hips still stuttered and mindlessly rutted a bit until he was completely spent. My limbs went numb, loosening… the pants of us both being the only sound as silence filled. Rapid breaths as our flesh stuck together, unwilling to separate much at all.

He didn’t speak nor did I. He didn’t move out of me… he would stay there for a while & hide his face in the crook of my neck once he started calming. I would lay there, letting this temporary warmth he gave me… stay with me as if it was all mine. As if we were going to be this way forever. As if HE were mine.

But he wasn’t mine… he never will be. He would revert back to the cold man he was after a while — the man who seemingly enjoyed making me jealous. The man who kept me around but refused to make it real. The man who knew I wouldn’t leave.

My beautiful reaper.

[soggyskinflaps]

Since i've in the works some Smiling Critters design reworks i thought, why not give the newcomers some stylized love?

Here's the first half of the Nightmare Critters! Honestly really proud of most of these, just not sure about Al's hat

The angsty lamb, the toxic sore loser, the spiller of blood tea and the procrastigator

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY FIVE

Brainwashing and Manipulation - Kai Anderson

kai anderson x f!reader

SUMMARY: becoming infatuated with a politician didn’t seem too bad, not until you joined his cult…

CONTENT WARNING: adult grooming, manipulation, sex, condescension, degradation, oral (m!receiving), abuse? i mean he slaps you around a bit so i guess, LONG INTRO+ANGSTY ENDING

A/N: after realising that the jpm fic wasn’t as bad as i thought it would be, i decided to make this one darker in a more emotional sense. hope you all enjoy

MDNI. CONSUME MEDIA AT OWN RISK

A politician. cold, calculating, and manipulative. they all were, there wasn’t a single politician who wasn’t corrupt in one way or another; you were a firm believer of this. However you found yourself at one of kai’s rallies, completely captivated by him. so captivated that you completely forgot how corrupt politicians could be, how selfish they could be

the way he carried himself: confident, determined, assertive, as though he had been born for the job. There wasn’t a crinkle in his suit, not a single hair was out of place in his tightly pulled man-bun, his posture was perfect as he addressed the crowd. It was impossible to deny how he got you a little hot under the collar.

You went to more of his rallies after that day, at every rally you were there. front row, eyes trained on kai. he seemed to know how charismatic he was, but also how powerful he was. he’d occasionally make eye contact with you, and look away as though nothing happened. day by day, week by week this continued with your infatuation growing worse; Until the day he finally spoke to you

“wanna grab dinner later?” his direct and authoritative tone rang out as you turned to leave the now finished rally, obviously you accepted, why wouldn’t you?

he asked about you, listening intently with his neutral expression. whenever he spoke it was empathetic to whatever you were talking about. all you could think about was how perfect he seemed, so perfect that you accepted his invitation back to his house. he seemed so perfect that you ignored the strange pinky ritual he had you do, so perfect that you ignored the small warning given to you by his silver haired sister about how he wasn’t the best person to be involved with.

weeks passed. you saw kai often and whilst you thought it was innocent dates he knew that he was merely indoctrinating you into something much more sinister; you, the trusting lamb, fell right into his trap exactly like flys in spider webs and moths to flames

——————————————————————————

“suck harder” he grumbled harshly, pushing your head down on his spit-covered dick. you gagged, feeling his balls against your chin with his entire length down your throat. you didn’t dare disobey him though, hollowing your cheeks and using your tongue on the underside of his member whilst you deepthroated him

tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, your gag reflex being put to the test by taking kai this deep. you didn’t dare object though, continuing to suck him off. after all, last time you disobeyed it didn’t end well for you. mindlessly obeying, you just continued to suck his dick. It brought you a strange sense of belonging when you pleased kai, knowing that you was helping his cause. he told you that it helped him de stress, and it became your job to keep him satisfied.

he gripped your hair with one hand and began to use your throat like his personal fucktoy, which was exactly you were. you felt his length hit the back of your throat with every forced movement. his nails dug into your scalp, urging you to keep up with the pace he was setting with his rough movements. the stinging sensation only fuelled the tears in your eyes, you hoped he’d assume it was just from the extensive gagging.

“you’re fucking pathetic when you cry like that. keep going. you wanna make me happy don’t you? want your divine ruler to be a bit gentler?” he scoffed, his tone filled with condescension as he spoke down to you. you were worthless, insignificant, and he would remind you of such.

you obliged nonetheless, taking as much of kai as you could and as fast as you could. with glassy and tear filled eyes, you silently served kai’s needs. the taste of his precum overwhelmed your senses, the bitter taste slipping down your throat

his words made you think for a moment, you wanted to please him. you had to please him, you felt like you wanted too but deep down in your subconscious you knew that it was just his manipulations and indoctrinations that he had carefully crafted ever since he saw those doe-eyes full of wonder in the crowd at his rallies.

he continued to force you down on his dick, his eyes glued to whatever political thing was on the news. the familiar voice of trump echoed in your ears which only reminded you of kai’s radical views. the thought of being with someone who actively supported these views disgusted you, but he was too good to leave.

your mind continued to drift whilst you sucked him off, thinking about how different kai was from the man you had become infatuated with previously. you never took the kai you met as a misogynist, racist, trump-supporting cult leader.

you looked up at him with eyes full of devotion, hoping to please him so he’d give you mercy. he payed no attention to you and just forced your head back into his crotch without taking his eyes off of the TV. his stoic expression never faltered nor moved from the TV. his nails were still planted in your hair, gripping you and forcing you to keep up with his movements; treating you like a ragdoll

your pace slowed slightly, not meeting kai’s expectations which caused you to be met with the sharp stinging sensation and the whiplash of your face being slapped. “what the fuck is wrong with you? i give you ONE job and you can’t even do that. why do i even keep you around? you’re just wasting my time with your bullshit”

he pushed you to the floor, standing up and pulling his boxers up with him. “worthless. fucking worthless. maybe i should find someone else who would appreciate being able to worship my cock” he huffed before leaving the room, with you still on the floor

the tears that formed earlier due to the gagging now silently spilled, this time for that guilty feeling of failure that overcame yourself. you felt disgusted with yourself for letting kai use you like this, but it felt so right to be his. you couldn’t leave though, no, despite all this treatment you still loved him. you were still infatuated with him and it would always be that way.

A/N: angsty ending? manipulative sex? sounds great. hope you all enjoyed this <3

[the-apocrypha]

Cottagecore Series DVD Bonus Features

By popular request: the deleted scenes of how Dream and Hob ended up confessing their respective Big Secrets to one another. Below the cut are a series of conversations that take place a few days after Dream announces his pregnancy with Orpheus, and they are incredibly angsty. They also heavily feature abortion as a conversation topic. These were originally written to intercut with at least two miracles but didn't end up working out due to tone issues, and also don't really work as a standalone fic, so. If you're interested--enjoy!

The possibility of a child—their child, their own, of them—had occasionally crossed Hob’s mind, in the same way that other fantastical things like dragons and public libraries did. Fleeting. Unformed. Simple, wonderful little daydreams. 

The reality of it was both impossibly more exciting and terrifying than he could have ever imagined. 

Hob thought of a beautiful child with tiny pointed ears and glowing amber eyes. He thought of a babe born to the world still and pale, never to draw a single breath of life. He thought of all the stories his mother used to tell him, the skipping games and the toy swords and songs that lived inside of him, waiting to be passed down to someone small and new. He thought of a fae child, enamored of the forest and magic and books of learning, with little use for its mortal father. 

Once, when Hob was young, his mother had been called to help an ewe who had been laboring for the better part of the day. Twin lambs, both trying to emerge at the same time.

They’d had mutton for dinner, that night. And for many nights after that. 

Hob could not stop thinking about it. About everything.

What if the child came out completely human. 

What if the child came out completely fae. 

“You told me once,” Hob said, the words leaving his mouth even as lead weights sank pits into his stomach, even as his heart said don’t ask this don’t ask this don’t do it, but he had to, he had to know. “You told me once. That it took you a very long time to grow up.” 

Dream paused. “Yes,” he said, at length. “But time in the realm of the fae is not so… linear as it is here. It is—it was subject to neither law nor order. Time was fickle. Changeable.” 

“You said that it was almost a hundred years.” 

“That was… a guess,” Dream said. 

Hob stared. 

“It was unusual,” Dream added. He did not meet Hob’s eyes. “It. It was a choice I made. The rest of my siblings came of age much faster than I.” 

“How fast?” Hob asked, heart in his throat. 

Dream swallowed. 

“How fast?” 

“The child is half mortal, Hob it should not—it will not age as a fae child would. It cannot, it—it will not have the same power, the same gifts, and moreover, the laws of this universe would not allow—” 

“Oh, you know that, do you?” Hob asked, eyebrows raised. “Like you knew that a mortal man couldn’t get you pregnant in the first place?” 

Dream flinched. 

Hob sighed, and scrubbed at his face. “I’m just. I’m just thinking. We don’t know what we’re going to get, eight months from now—” If they were going to get anything at all. “—and we’ve got zero precedent to go off of, here. It. It could be anything. It could grow like a human and take sixteen years and be done. But, it could also…” 

“It will not,” Dream said, but there was a traitorous wobble in his voice.

“It could,” Hob insisted. “It could, Dream, and we just. I just want to be prepared for that. I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Dream stared, like the whole world was crashing down around him. As if he had not considered this at all. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hob—” 

“But, listen—listen, it’ll be okay,” Hob said hurriedly, and took Dream’s hands into his own. Put on the bravest face he could muster. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, for. For as long as I can be. Even if it means being stuck in the terrible twos for an entire decade. You just might have to do the teenage years on your own, that’s all. And. You know. The thousand years that come after that.” 

Dream closed his eyes. 

Hob tried desperately to rally. “And, hey! The good news is, at least I won’t be around to give any dodgy sex talks when it comes time for that, since I obviously—” 

“Hob,” Dream said. 

“Though clearly pregnancy prevention isn’t your strong suit either,” Hob allowed. 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s eyes were open again, and they were full of tears. 

“Hob,” Dream said again, and it caught in his throat. “Hob, I—I am not going to live for another thousand years.” 

Hob frowned. “But—”

“I made,” Dream said, and with the next blink the tears spilled over, “a bargain.” 

The reason that Hob had kept it a secret for so long (was because he was a coward) was because, in his opinion, there had been no good that would come of the truth. 

Dream had assumed that the people of Eskham had turned against Hob for being a hedgewitch. He’d assumed in turn that mortals were prejudiced against any being with magic, which was a category that happened to include the fae but more importantly included Hob, who did not have the ability to summon tornadoes or fell ancient oaks. Dream still sweetly seethed about the injustices Hob’s own people had done upon him. He had yet to even once seem concerned for his own safety. 

This was fair. 

Dream had, after all, taken out an entire village of mortals in one wrothful fell swoop. 

Now, Dream had confessed what had happened in the aftermath of that massacre—what he had so readily sacrificed, to save Hob’s life—and it had been devastating in its own right. It had left Hob awake at night, imagining what it would be like to grow older and older and older, while his child did not. 

But it had also pulled on the string that unraveled whatever remained of their tapestried joy at the possibility of impending parenthood. The happiness was gone. The happiness should never have existed in the first place, because the ache of its absence was far worse than to have never known it at all. Hob could not believe he ever felt such simple, mindless elation at what had quickly become a question to which every answer was more horrifying than the last. 

Hob thought of a babe with perfectly pointed ears, stolen away in the night, drowned in the river. 

Hob thought of a child with huge, phosphorescent eyes, tied to a stake above a pile of dried tinder. Screaming.

Hob thought of black-nailed teenager who had had forty-odd years of childhood with its parents before they succumbed to old age, and left their child alone in a world it did not belong in. Orphaned. Ostracized. Hunted. 

It filled Hob’s stomach and left him unable to eat. It pressed down on his chest at night, and he could not sleep. 

And he knew what he needed to do. 

At the same table where Dream had confessed not three days ago, Hob sat himself heavily on the bench. 

Dream stared back wanly. He’d spent most of the morning vomiting copiously, which perhaps made this timing even worse, but Hob knew if he did not say it now he might never say it at all. 

“Dream,” Hob said carefully. The words stuck in his throat like glass, and they tore him open one by one as he forced them out. “There’s. The other day, when you told me about the bargain you made. I—there’s something that I should. Something I should have told you, before—something. Something.” He swallowed. “Something I. Something.” His nails dug into his palms. His heart was pounding in his ears. “Something—” 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s hand splayed across his chest is like ice on fire. Hob sucked in a breath, and relished the burn. 

He seized Dream’s hand in his own. Looked Dream in the eyes. Prepared to pull this one last thread of sanity for the person he loved more than anything in this world. 

“Something,” Hob said unevenly, holding onto Dream like a lifeline, “that I should have told you a long time ago. About. About Eskham.” 

Dream tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Eskham?” 

Hob nodded. 

“What about it?” Dream asked. 

He had no idea. He had no clue. 

“That day,” Hob said, and he was gripping Dream’s hand hard as if he could prevent the inevitable withdrawal. “When they came for me.” 

And Dream nodded. He reached out with his other hand to rest it on Hob’s forearm—a gesture meant as supportive that only served to make Hob’s stomach drop to new depths. 

But this was not about him. This was not even about Dream. It was about their child, carried one day into a town square with pitchforks at its throat and devil spawn in its ears. It was about deserved truths. 

“That day,” Hob said again. He swallowed against a dry tongue. Against the heart that was trying to escape through his throat. “That day. The mob. They weren’t looking for me.”

Dream stared. 

Hob’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might be sick. 

He watched, as Dream’s face went from confusion, to realization, to—

Bloodless. 

Grey. Dead eyes and parted lips. Staring, but not seeing. 

“I—defended you,” Hob made himself say. “I wouldn’t tell them. Where you were. I told them that I loved you, that you were just as natural as any other creature in this realm and that I would rather die before I let any of them hurt you, and—” 

Dream yanked his hands back. 

Hob tried to hold on, but he wasn’t quick enough. Not strong enough. 

“You,” Dream whispered. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hob said frantically, almost angrily. He was losing control, the tidal wave of panic and horror sweeping him out to a roiling sea he could not swim in, and he barely knew which words would leave his mouth when he opened it again. “I haven’t regretted it for a single second, Dream, not once, not ever, I’d have burned on that stake a thousand times over before I let them touch you, I’d—” 

And Dream bolted. 

Hob leapt to his feet to follow—but his calf muscle seized, and he careened to the side and just barely managed to grab the table at the last second. Stood there, panting, gripping the table as his calf cramped hard enough to render the entire leg useless. Staring at the empty doorway. 

He deserved this, he supposed. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The summer air was thick and sweet beneath the canopy of the forest. The trees mostly blocked the breeze, but so also the warmth of the sun, which made it about as pleasant as any place was during the midday heat. They were sat at the base of an ancient yew tree that Dream favored, not far from the cottage, and had been for some time. Ravens chattered and rustled softly overhead. A large halo of bird shit was slowly accumulating around them. 

Dream inhaled as if to speak, for the third time in about as many minutes. This time, though, the words came. 

“I do not want. Our child. To be hunted.” 

Hob closed his eyes. “I know.” 

“We do not know what powers it will be born to. What features it will be born to.” 

Unspoken—the slimmest chance, the highest hope, that it would somehow be born wholly mortal. 

A mortal body. A mortal magic. A mortal lifespan. 

“We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect them. Whatever it takes. You know we will,” Hob said, and even as anxiety turned his stomach over, rage flared through him hot and fast. “Anyone that tries to lay a finger on our child, I’ll—I’ll kill ‘em. I would. Anyone. Everyone. And if they think I’m terrifying just wait until they meet the thirty-foot forest nightmare right behind me that can summon hail and rent the earth.” 

Dream swallowed. “Hail and earth. Did not save you.” 

Hob tightened his grip around Dream’s waist. “Yes it did.” 

“You—” 

“Yes it bloody well did. You saved my life that day, you fought, and if you hadn’t been there I—” 

“If I had not been there,” Dream interrupted darkly. He barked one harsh, bitter laugh. “If I had never inflicted myself upon you in the first place, then no mob would have ever come for you at all. You would be—” 

“Lonely,” Hob said. He tried desperately to keep the frustration from rising. “I told you. I would have been lonely, and bored, Dream, and I would have died in that house feeling as if I’d never truly lived at all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I nearly killed you,” Dream said. 

“You saved—”

“And now,” Dream continued, staring into the depths of the forest, “I have attempted to thrust a child upon you, without your consent. I have tried to sentence you to spending the rest of your meager years consumed in the care of a creature that will only suffer as a result of my own hubris—my own selfishness—and it will resent us. It will hate us. It will hate me, and it will be right to do so for—” 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Hob said, scrambling around in front of Dream, and cupping his face. 

Dream stared determinedly to the side, with eyes that were red-rimmed and shiny. His breaths came uneven and jagged. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” Hob said fiercely. “You didn’t know better. I didn’t know better. Right?” 

“Hob—” 

“This isn’t something that you’ve done to me. To us. Neither one of us is to blame here. Not one little bit. And it wouldn’t matter anyway if it was, because whatever happens, you know that we’re in this together. We’re going to do what we always do, and make it work. Figure it out. Pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, all of it. Together. Yeah?” 

Dream set his jaw, and at last met Hob’s eyes. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled Hob’s hands away from his face. 

“You argue. That we are absolved of any guilt, for what strife our child may face in life. Because we held no intention of conception, in our couplings,” Dream said. 

“...Yes?” Hob said, eyebrows raising. “I don’t think we can be blamed for bringing a child into the world when we didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” 

“Incorrect,” Dream disagreed. 

Hob opened his mouth, but Dream continued too quickly. 

“Ignorance acquits us from blame in the conception of this child, yes.” Dream’s hand moved, in the periphery of Hob’s vision, delving into the folds of his robe. “But we are not without agency, in these early months of pregnancy.” 

Dread swung sudden and hard into Hob’s chest, like a fist. 

“...What do you mean?” 

Dream held out his hand between them, and uncurled his fingers. A cluster of flowers rested there. 

Tansy. 

“It sings to me of… release,” Dream said. His thumb brushed over golden petals like spikes. “Of choice. Liberty. Of the harmonization of poison and medicine, as one.”

Hob took in a deep breath, because he was, for the first time in days, hopeful. 

Hob was also terrified. 

Hob was sick, sick, sick, sick. 

“I believe,” Dream whispered, eyes boring in Hob’s, “that it would be enough. To—take care of it.” 

There was a cup of water on the table, steaming and yellow with tansy. 

Choice, Dream said it sang. Release. Liberty. The harmonization of poison and medicine, as one. 

But to Hob, it was silent as a grave. 

Dream was holding the cup so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The steam had long disappeared from the cup, leaving only a stagnant yellow tonic. Hob had offered to leave the cottage twice and allow Dream some privacy, and on the second time Dream had grabbed his hand, hard, and he hadn’t let go since. 

Hob’s fingers ached where they were threaded through Dream’s, but he did not complain. 

He sat in silence, and watched Dream raise the cup to his mouth. 

Watched him inhale. 

Watched him close his eyes. 

Watched him press the rim of the cup to his lips. 

Watched as Dream froze, and was perfectly still for an eternity save for the tremble of the cup in his grasp—

And the cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing poison everywhere, and Dream gasped, “I cannot. I cannot, forgive me, Hob, I—” 

Hob grabbed him and pulled him in hard. “It’s okay—” 

“—I cannot do it, I cannot—” 

“—you don’t have to—” 

“I should,” Dream snarled, gripping the fabric of Hob’s tunic and pushing back. There were tears streaming down his face. “I should end it, I should be rid of it. It is. It is the only humane option, the only option that guarantees that—that—” 

“I know, love,” Hob said miserably, his own throat going tight and hot. “I know that. But—” 

“Hob,” Dream choked out. He tried to inhale, but could not. “Hob, I can—hear it.” 

Hob’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went numb. “Y-you—” 

“I can—” Dream slapped his hands over his mouth. He stared at Hob in horror. 

Dream, who could hear the songs of river stones and the herbs in the garden. Who communed with foxes and ancient oak trees alike. Who had come to Hob with news of this pregnancy but without explanation as to how he knew. 

“You can hear it,” Hob repeated blankly. 

“I should not have told you,” Dream said, shaking his head. His eyes were blank and unseeing and wet with tears. “I. I should not have told you, I told myself I would not, I—it should not matter. It does not matter.” 

“What does it sound like?” Hob asked. 

Dream looked up at him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Dream, what does it sound like?” 

He shouldn’t ask. 

He couldn’t not know. 

“Like. A songbird,” Dream whispered. 

A songbird. 

“The most beautiful—” Dream choked on a sob. “The most beautiful songbird, Hob, the most wonderful songbird in the world.” 

And Hob. Hob, quite abruptly, could not imagine a world where he did not one day get to hear that song. He could not imagine a world in which he did not get to hold their child in his arms this winter and instantly fall in love with whatever features the world had seen fit to give them, mortal or fae or some splendid combination of both. 

He could not imagine what it would be like, for Dream to sit at this table and drink down poison and then listen to the song of their child go silent. 

Dream sobbed in his arms. He begged for forgiveness—from Hob. Their future child. The universe. I have failed, he said, over and over again. Selfish, and weak, and worthless, he named himself, and he would not be consoled with any combination or repetition of words Hob had to offer. 

But still, the tansy sat untouched. 

Eventually, it went out the window. 

And the songbird lived another day.

[alllgator-blood]

Knowing your narinder, I feel like your version of narilamb (if it even exists) is just narinder being convinced the lamb loves him, because who wouldn't love him

MY TOWN'S INTERNET CONNECTION IS GOING IN AND OUT SO I'VE BEEN TRYING TO POST THIS ALL DAY. I literally have to leave for the airport in less than an hour and suddenly the wifi is back

I'll be real I never put much thought into narilamb before this ask but this is the BEST approach I've seen to it actually, I laughed out loud when I first got this. Everything I do is driven by the thought process of "would this be funny?" so THIS IS HOW NARILAMB WORKS IN MY ART NOW. The lamb does not give a flying fuck about narinder and just wants to usurp him asap for that red crown swag, meanwhile narinder is like YEOWCH!! SO SPICY! IT'S A SHAME YOU'RE SECRETLY IN LOVE WITH ME CAUSE I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU BACK </3

Aym and baal can't even fathom how narinder is 100% convinced everyone loves him dearly. So they just sit there watching the lamb grow more powerful by the day and don't know how to break the news that narinder is proooooobably making a mistake trusting them. I should come up with a lore reason for why my pre-purgatory narinder is just like an angsty emo boy who was pretty down to earth, then just became a cartoonishly egotistical prick during his life sentence LMAO

[tragedybunny]

Well since you are asking for asks, here's one! How about a Astarion one (shocking I know) where they are on their way to baulders gate to confront Cazador but Astarion is plagued by nightmares that he will lose Tav/reader to his former master and goes to them to ensure they are still there and its angsty with fluff. Please? Thank you!

My usual apologies for my work rate Anon. I hope you enjoy.

What Haunts His Nights - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion is plagued by nightmares on the road to Baldur's Gate.

Astarion didn't really sleep, Elvish meditation was usually enough, unless the vampire ended up injured or exhausted, then he'd fall into healing sleep like the rest of his kind. So how he managed to have nightmares any time he tried to rest seemed like some sort of immense joke of the universe. Which would fit with the rest of his existence. Ever since you'd ended things at Moonrise Towers and your path to the city was clear, the same subject haunted him. 

Cazador. Only this time it wasn't just him who suffered at those accursed hands. It was you, Cazador had somehow learned of your relationship and would use it to make you both suffer. Sometimes he killed you outright, other times he'd kidnap you and torture you until Astarion willingly returned to him. Worst of all were the visions of you made into another spawn, forced to serve the Vampire Lord.

For the most, he tried to hide it, much as he loved you, it wasn't in his nature to trust you with every fear and flaw. But they were getting worse, more haunting, even as his attachment to you grew. The more he loved you, the more afraid he became. Tonight though brought that fear to dizzying new heights, his siblings had found you, here at Wyrm's Crossing, meaning Cazador could find you all as well.  

Instincts had firstly led him to secure their cooperation in the ritual. It hadn't been a lie when he'd said it was to protect you too. Losing you would be the same as losing himself. But now, laying here next to you in the tent you'd been sharing, other thoughts had crept in, the reality crushing down on him, Cazador could take you if he wanted to. This was no home he had to be invited into, there was no protection here. 

Trying to push it from his mind, Astarion let himself fall into meditation, no deep sleep needed tonight. As soon as his mind quieted though, there was Cazador. "A willing substitute, a lamb to the slaughter." You knelt before him, bare from the waist up, the dagger in his hand carving the same Infernal words into your skin that Astarion himself bore. 

Weeping silently, you endure, until the foul work is finished. Then it is as though Cazador finally notices him. "If you would have just come home boy, she wouldn't have to suffer. But look what she does for love of you." 

A scream nearly tears itself from his throat, and the meditation breaks. Rolling on his side, he chokes and gasps, an impressive feat for someone who doesn't need to breathe. Squinching his eyes shut, he finds himself unable to turn and look at the place you were sleeping, knowing it would tear him apart to find you gone. "Just a nightmare, " he whispers, trying to convince himself. Gods, how unfair was this, he'd barely learned how to love, and now he had to worry he could lose it at any moment. 

You had to be there though, safe and undisturbed, he couldn't even fathom anything else. He rolled, dead heart aching, to find you where he'd left you, sweetly asleep in the little nest of blankets the two of you had made. Almost immediately his eyes began to sting and he swallowed a cry. Cazador didn't have you, and when Astarion ascended in his place, he could make sure nothing ever threatened the two of you again.

Arms enfold you as he snuggles tight against your back, calming as he concentrates on the rhythmic sound of your heartbeat, the motion of your chest as you breathe, the warmth of your skin, all the signs you're real and here with him. He must be holding you tighter then he thought because you stir. "Love, you alright," you murmur, half awake. 

There's a bit of guilt in waking you, but hearing your voice is a soothing balm he hadn't realised he needed. "Nothing to worry about my Sweet," he tries but his voice is shaky. 

"Another nightmare?" Now you're alert and he feels terrible. Even worse, he hasn’t been able to hide this all from you. 

"... Yes," he confesses, "Cazador." The name spills from his mouth like a curse. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Fingers lace with his where they rest over your stomach and squeeze. 

"Not really, I'm sorry." You're so kind to want to listen but he just wants to try to forget. The thoughts of Cazador have left him reeling and he worries he'll anger you by not talking, even if he can't remember a time you were actually angry at him. 

"Don't apologise, I'm here if you need me, but you don't have to tell me anything." Then miraculously, you take his hand, bring it to your lips, kiss it delicately, before cradling it with both of yours. "Love you," you whisper sweetly. 

In a completely undignified moment, he whimpers softly and holds you even tighter, kissing the back of your neck. "Love you too." He can't lose you, and soon he'll be strong enough to make sure that never happens. 

[biapascal]

Hi lovely!! I saw you’re taking reqs for Oberyn and I feel like he’s not shown enough LUV!!

What if Oberyn is infatuated with female reader and tries to win her over, but she plays hard to get and OBERYN loves the chase. Eventually winning her over and he’s super romantic 😭🥰🫶🏼🩷

The lion and the viper.

Hello love! Thanks for your request 🤎🕯️🪶 I wrote this right away because today was a lazy day and Oberyn is probably one of my favorite Pedro's characters. I love writing about him! <3

Hope you enjoy 💋

Tw: Elia is still alive or didn’t die at all ( You pick the timeline lmao ) angsty

Tyrion's birth was a tragic event. Tywin Lannister was the father of a cruel joke of nature. Jaime and Cersei were in symbiosis, and the man wanted another heir. On the day of your birth, when the nurse had shown you to your father, he turned away in disappointment, refusing to hold you: you were a girl. You’ve inherited the golden locks of the Lannisters and the elegance of the lion your family has identified with for centuries.

In Casterly Rock, you heard your relatives clamor for power while your heart yearned for other things. The roar of the lion didn't belong to you. There were people who took care of your clothes, your appearance, but no one showed you affection, especially not your father. Every day you saw your sister Cersei, she hated you, according to her you were a lamb to slaughter and seeing your tears gave her a sense of power over you, she had always craved it. You saw how close she and Jaime were, the way he touched her, the unfamiliar words you heard, it was disturbing. Jaime wasn't like her, he was kinder, but whenever Cersei caught him being nice to you, she got mad. She was capable of ruining you. When you were a child, she destroyed your favorite doll, then she started beating you. Your father didn't do anything because he was proud that one of his children knew how to keep other people in their place, which he felt was what a ruler should do. While you were a lamb with an open heart surrounded by lions, your brother Tyrion was called the imp. The two of you were close and understood each other. You had to seek comfort in art, the only tool that could make you forget how painful life was in your household. You quickly learned to paint, sing and write to relieve stress through the ink. As adulthood approached, things got even harder. The day you bleeded for the first time, Cersei made sure to frighten you by telling you that now that you were finally able to carry a child, you were ready to be used by any man who wanted to. She frightened you with stories of the crimson between your legs and the feeling of losing what was supposed to be yours: "You will be in pain only for their pleasure. Hope that your children will be healthy, they will be the only thing you care about in this world. Many people will try to destroy your family and you will not be able to protect them.”

Your body was ready for other people, but you weren't. You never knew love and didn't even believe in it. As the sun was setting and the sky was changing its bright tone, you were walking through the crowded street. The good thing about being different from your family was that people didn't hate you. They thought you were nice, and you learned a lot from them. While walking you noticed unfamiliar faces. You had never seen guards dressed like this before; their clothes were bright, reflecting the faint light of the setting sun. A woman was with them, her brown hair was long and wavy, falling to her elegantly tanned shoulders. She wore showy jewelry, and her eyes were sweet, but her gaze was intense. There was a man next to her, also dressed in a bright robe and charming, seemingly sure of himself. “Elia and Oberyn Martell” you heard. You knew those names. Oberyn looked at her sister. "Are you tired? The journey was long” Elia nodded. "Yes, brother, but we should be close to the castle. " Oberyn noticed you and smiled. You didn't like that smile. You didn't even know him, but you could tell a polite smile from a malicious one. They approached you and you noticed the man looking at you with interest. "Elia, what a surprise, we met the Lannister lamb." He made you feel vulnerable. Your cheeks burned and you tried to collect yourself, remembering that no one was going to rescue you. "If you need to go to the castle, I am on my way home” your voice was firm. Elia pulled a tuft of blond hair from your face and you stood still in embarrassment. "Sorry dear, you have such a pretty face..." she looked at her brother. "Yes, she is indeed pretty" he agreed. Oberyn and Elia needed to talk to your father about some political issues you weren't aware of. Seeing the way the prince looked at you, Cersei smiled and approached you. "Little sister, do you know what they call him?" You shook your head and she chuckled. "Of course you don't. They call him the Red Viper, he's a master with poisons” you nodded as you looked at Tywyn talking to the foreigners. Cersei didn't frighten you, you've heard of many men murdering people and starting wars because of it. "Well, you saw the way he looked at you” you looked at her and crossed your arms. "He's always looking for a woman to keep his bed warm and I think he chose you this time, little sister” that was scary. You bit your lip and walked away, tired of your sister.

In a few days at Casterly Rock, more lords arrived, and Oberyn never took his eyes off you, smiling as if he knew something you ignored, and it made you nervous. You tried to distract yourself by composing, but the noise in your head kept you from concentrating. One night there was a feast. The men enjoyed the wine and the women let them have their fun while you concentrated on the food and tried to ignore the chaos around you. You weren't proud of yourself because you felt you weren't acting like a woman, you still had the same insecurities of a child. You noticed that Oberyn, as comfortable as he was in his own home, was sitting with a woman on his lap. He noticed you staring at him and waved. You felt the fork in your hand tremble and put it down, then stood. You looked for a quieter place to be alone and went to the window. The stars shone through the night without talking, and it was beautiful. You spent some time there, thinking about how you needed to change, then you felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped. Oberyn was there, looking for you. The palm of his hand was warm and you pushed it away from your shoulder. "Prince Oberyn" you greeted him politely. "You're not enjoying the party?" You looked at him impassively. "No. I'm not." You replied, your tone cold. Oberyn shook his head and sighed. "It pains me to see such a beautiful woman as you, my lady, uncomfortable in her own home" you bowed your head. "I understand you like wine and pretty women who offer their bodies to you" you said with a fake smile on your face. "If you like that, go to a brothel." his smile faded and you walked away, leaving him alone. Over the next few days, Oberyn showed you how stubborn he could be; you thought about him often, you couldn't lie to yourself by saying you didn't like the attention he gave you, but you couldn't let him trick you. You remembered Cersei's words and minded your own business until one day. The scent of flowers stimulated your mind, and you were often sent to the garden to write. You heard the waves of the sea and felt the cool air on your skin: it was a beautiful day. Then you saw him, writing in one of your favorite places. You remained silent, watching him. There was something about the dedication he gave to his work that made you feel, in a way, you never felt before.

"Little lamb" he looked at you. "Please don't call me that, I find it offensive" he frowned. "I apologize, but may I ask why you find this name offensive?" you hesitated, then sighed. "It makes me feel weak. My family calls me that because I'm weak." you replied. It was painful, but it was the truth. He put the feather down. "I don't call you that because you are weak. I call you that because you look gentle, your heart seems to be soft, something you should be proud of". You raised an eyebrow. "How could you say that?" He chuckled. "I have heard of you, my lady, when people are good, they become known. Your family isn't the only one who has an opinion about you" you remained silent and looked at what he was writing. "What are you writing?" He smiled. "Poetry” he replied. He was a writer, he expressed emotions through art, just like you. "About what?" you were curious and wanted to read it. "Love” that was disappointing. He noticed the sparkle in your eyes fading. "What's wrong?" You shook your head. "It's silly, forget it" he insisted and you sighed. "Well, I don't think love exists. Maybe physical attraction exists, but if love exists, it leads to tragedy." To him it was nonsense. He became serious. "You believe that?" You nodded. He stood up and you felt a little intimidated. "I'm sorry, dear" he smiled softly. "For what?" you were confused. "For the fact that you had to believe that bullshit. It is true, love can lead to tragedy and that proves how strong it can be. Love helps humanity, it can help people find the strength to fight, it gives hope and even pleasure" he paused and you blushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry they made you believe that” you looked down and played with your gold rings. "Well, maybe I'm just not used to it” he caressed your cheek unexpectedly. "Yes. I think so” he was tender and you felt weak, but in a good way. "You write too, don't you, my lady? Please, let me read something”

Oberyn came from another dimension where there was no shame. You were attracted to him, and you could tell he wanted to take you, but you weren't ready. When Cersei noticed the two of you, you had to ignore her nasty comments.

It was the last night he would have spent with you before he left for Dorne. You were hurt, knowing that without him, you would have heard only your father's harsh words. You agreed to meet in the garden. You arrived with a smile on your face and hugged him. You were grateful and perhaps you were beginning to know love. "My dove” you looked at him, amused. "Another cutesy name for me?" You chuckled. He kissed your cheek and you enjoyed it but had to stop him when his hands began to wander. "Wait, not tonight” he seemed really helpless. "But you deserve this" you cupped his face with your hands. "Go back to Dorne, the next time we meet I'll be ready." While he was away, he sent you letters that showed that he was honest, that he really cared about you. When you met again, you knew you were in love, and as his boat left the shore, you allowed his lips to come close to your face. "You're lucky" you said before feeling the warmth of the kiss all the way to your stomach. "I know."

[shall-we-die]

ok heehee i have a request in mind, but feel free to ignore it for whatever reason but i was wondering about something a teensy bit angsty (or like hurt-comfort if ur feeling niceys) with the obey me demons,

like them being summoned by some human cultists using (gn)MC as a sacrifice for them. is this anything

╔‌‌‌‌═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚

{"Don't touch

my human!"}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Obey me!

╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

...Who has the nerve to summon a mighty prideful demon using your name? That is a grave offence and they shall be punished.

When Diavolo was suddenly summoned by a group of human cultist using you as a sacrificial lamb, time stopped for a moment as he took in the sight before him. His normally bright and cheerful demeanor immediately darkened as anger and disgust painted over his features as he saw you chained up in front of him, surrounded by the cultists, who looked at him with a sickening glee in their eyes, expecting him to grant them a wish at your expense. 'How absolutely pathetic.' was all Diavolo could think as he glared daggers at the group. Diavolo felt almost sick at the thought of these humans thinking that they could summon him and sacrifice someone as valuable as you just to satisfy their own selfish desires. As the head cultist approached you menacingly, you could see in the corner of your eye that Diavolo was clenching his fists tightly, seemingly to refrain himself from unleashing the full wrath of his power right then and there, which would without a doubt kill those humans on the spot. The cultist lifted his hand up menacingly, preparing to give the ritual the finishing blow when...

Barbatos, who has always found the mortal realm to be full of foolish and short-sighted people, would find himself annoyed by the human cultists. But as he materializes before them, he could only chuckle at the sheer foolishness of their summoning and sacrifice attempt. He would make a sly comment about how their sacrifice of you would not help them in summoning him and how their attempts at manipulation were in vain. "How foolish are you mortals to even attempt to summon me with such pitiful and useless sacrifices?" He would continue mocking the human cultists, commenting on their lack of knowledge and insight. "Do you truly believe that sacrifices can sway my presence? What a foolish notion. You mortals should really brush up on your demon summoning etiquette. A mere sacrifice is not enough to bring me to the mortal realm. You lack sincerity and knowledge in your summoning attempts. What a waste of time and energy on my part." He would chuckle at their pitiful attempts and watch as they panic.

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[dearestaussiechannie]

⛧ Oh Darling ⛥ ― Song Mingi

Word Count: 1.7k Pairing: Song Mingi x GN!Reader Genre: Kinda angsty?? more yearning than anything- Warnings: I don't think there's really any warnings for this one besides maybe the fact that min bites reader and drinks their blood and petnames (Darling, Lamb) Authors note: HIII its been so long bbs !! this is vv loosely based on a dream bestie had and told me about bc I was in it- he told me "We had to find out and you asked Mingi 'if i was passed around blunt style... how many vampires could i take' and then Mingi said "Well if I was there, just one.' which is crazy !!" -bestie AND THAT WAS CRAZY TO MEEE !!!! so please enjoy !! <3

The rain hammered against the old windowpane, a relentless rhythm as wind outside howled against the exterior of the house. Inside, the air felt light, as if there wasn’t a heavy storm trying desperately to climb its way through the house to wreak havoc.

Inside, you were in the house's living room, sat in front of a large fireplace on a dark maroon chaise lounge, the aroma of firewood with the soft crackling noise of the burning bark filled the room. You were trying your best to focus on the book in front of you but as the night ticked by, it was getting harder to hold your eyes open. Without even realizing it, you’d slowly fallen asleep, the book falling as gently as it could to the floor.

Mingi had finally awoken, quickly stepping out of his room when he smelt the fireplace still burning this late. As he quickly made his way to the living room, his robe barely pulled on while turning the corner, he came to a full stop when his eyes land on you sleeping in his chair. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself before he felt his mouth suddenly run dry. The sight is almost too good to not walk over and take it all for himself.

Carefully, Mingi walked over to you, crouching down in front of you before putting his knees on the floor as he leaned closer to you, one hand on the couch and the other gently placed on your waist, giving it a soft squeeze before he mumbles under his breath. “You always smell oh so sweet, Darling..” 

The sound of his voice and cold touch slowly stir you from your sleep, opening your eyes to see his body practically swallowing you into him. Without even realizing how quickly you move, you’ve sat up, back now pressed against the arm of the lounge. “Mingi, you can’t just sneak up on people like that..”

“I’m sorry, Darling.. But it's quite hard not to sneak up on such a sleepy lamb..” He responds, the new position you've moved into leaving him close to your thighs, laying his heavy head against them as he looks up at you. He takes note of how his words make your ears and cheeks flush bright red, hearing your heart pounding in your chest even from this far away.

“Well.. maybe.. But I've asked you before to wake me before you get this close..” You mumble, looking away only to glance back when you hear his low chuckle, noticing how his eyes keep moving from your face to your neck. He must have woken up hungry and made his way directly to you. You straighten your back at the thought only for him to move as well, sitting on the lounge with you, hand still on your waist.

“Tell me, lamb.. How was your busy day, hm? Couldn’t help but notice how empty the house feels without you here and the sweet scent of your shampoo filling the hallway between our rooms.” He asks, hand holding your waist tighter as he leans his head down to your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat, trying to force his mind to calm itself since he doesn’t want to just feed off of you then leave you alone.

“Well.. I finished my final today then had to go to work, which was an absolute nightmare.. One more lady yells at me over her latte not having enough foam or over the amount of ice in her drink I might just lose it.” You tell him, looking down at him and running your hand through your hair to brush it back from your face. You wondered why he asked you this so often lately since your ‘mortal concerns and issues’ never used to pique his interest.

“Well Darling, you know you could just quit that job. You know I’d have no problem supporting you financially, what else would I use this money for?” He mumbles before sitting up and slowly looking into your eyes, his dark pupils burrowing under your skin as his own way of trying to convince you to say yes, because he’d never tell you that he actually hates the smell of everyone on you when you come home.

“Min, for probably the 50th time, I won't let you pay for all of my things. You already let me live with you after everything that happened with Woo..” You mumble, looking away from him again as he sighs, if you were looking you’d have watched a small flick of anger in his eyes before rolling them while laying his face against your neck. Neither of you like to talk about what happened with Wooyoung since it was traumatic for you and a source of frustration for Mingi.

“Fine, lamb.. I won’t push it further.. May I ask you a favor?” His voice was soft as his nose brushed against one specific spot on your neck, giving away what he wanted from you. You slowly change how you’re sitting on the lounge, giving him a little more room as you slowly slip your shirt down your shoulder to give him more room without the fabric in the way. Mingi hums in appreciation, gently brushing his nose against you again, before sinking his teeth carefully into your neck.

You wince at the feeling, not quite used to the feeling as your eyes close, hands balling into fists as you turn your head. Mingi tries to hold onto his self restraint as he slowly drinks you in, humming to himself, hands holding your waist tighter before letting one move to your lower back, pulling your chest closer to his, enjoying the feeling of your fast heartbeat against his almost invisible one.

As time keeps ticking by, you feel yourself starting to get light headed, tapping his shoulder. “Min.. I'm getting dizzy.. Need a minute..” You mumble to him, trying to sit up again only for him to hold onto you tighter, not stopping as your heart starts beating harder to replace the blood he was taking from you. This only makes you try to pull away harder, whining as he sinks his teeth in again. 

Mingi can’t get himself to calm down as he keeps chasing his thirst, holding you tighter as you wiggle in his hold. He knows he needs to stop but he can’t, he knew this would eventually happen and he’d destroy himself or you because of it. You keep wiggling against him before finally grabbing a handful of his hair to pull him away from you enough to get yourself off of the lounge, quickly rushing away to your room to bandage yourself up and lock yourself away for the night, leaving Mingi alone in the living room.

Quite some time had passed since that moment and you've hardly even seen each other in the house due to your busy schedule and him keeping himself locked to his room or going out during the night. After yet another long and busy day, you’ve finally made it back home, making quite a ruckus as you make your way inside. You couldn’t help but think back to the last time Mingi fed from you and how he shouldn’t be going this long in between which also makes you remember the look of fear he probably saw on your face. 

You were sat in the living room again, trying to decompress from work since today had been a rough one, causing you to get home so close to midnight. Mingi used to meet you at the front door when you came in this late to make sure you were okay, the memory making you frown slightly as you removed your heavy boots and hoodie, soaking in the heat from the fire you assume Mingi lit. 

Slowly warming up by the fire, you hear a door open which pulls your attention to the hall, locking eyes with Mingi as he emerges. “Hello, Darling.. Are you alright, you’ve come in quite late.” He mumbles in your direction before slowly looking away, his heart pounding. He wants to walk over and just fall to your feet and mutter his apologies over and over again but he’s afraid that he might lose control again or you might push him away.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just had a long day at school and even longer at work..” She says, trying to look at him only for him to move further back into the hallway. “Mingi? Are you headed back to your room already?” you ask as you slowly stand to step towards him, not wanting this moment to end so quickly. 

“Yes lamb, I’ll be returning back to my room for now, I'll be back out later in the night. Please go back to your fire and relax.” His response was cold as he shut the bedroom door. This deterred you from following him, moving back to the seat by the fire to warm up just as he said, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

Mingi came back out of his room a few hours later, finding you curled up in the chair by the fire, sighing to himself as he slowly walked over to wake you to go get in your bed. He tried to shake you, speak to you even but was getting no response, quite shocked by how deep in sleep you were. Carefully, he lifted your small frame into his arms, heading towards your bedroom. As he laid you down, your hand grabbed onto his shirt, face contorting into a pout as you mumbled to him in your sleep. “Don’t go.. please..” Your voice filled the room before you’d fallen back into your unconscious state.

“Oh Darling.. Don’t ask me to stay..” He mumbles back, sitting down at the foot of your bed, head in hands as he thinks to himself about the many moments the two of you have had. He hasn’t felt like this in years, centuries even, why did that have to change with you? You were just someone who was brought to his doorstep by a friend that had fucked up. Someone he’s supposed to protect, not fall in love with. Would he even call this love? The way he just wants you to stay in the house, never leaving his side. It felt more possessive, controlling…not endearing.

©️ dearestaussiechannie, all rights reserved. Taglist: (to be added, comment or message me♡) @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @tiredlittlevirgo

[atinylittlepain]

Love your writing! I love the Unexpected universe, could I please request a really angsty Joel story where baby Miller gets sick nothing extreme, just a colicky baby but because of what happened to Sarah it just brings all of Joel’s fear to the surface? Please add some fluff spice with reader trying to comfort him and cute baby and dad moments?

aw man, i got a bit carried away with this one, i hope you like it <3

Unmet Expectations

dad!joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

When baby miller gets sick, Joel gets stuck in the past, leaving her feeling lonelier than ever before.

warnings | 18+ angst, hurt/comfort, grief, sick baby oof, smut at the end

a/n | this one is long, and rather emotionally charged, but with a happy ending of course for our Unexpected Expectings fam :)

....................................

There isn’t much sleeping going on in the Miller household. Except for Ellie, who has the good fortune to be out in the garage, away from the seemingly endless crying. It started a little over a month ago. She had settled Libby down for her afternoon nap, only to be promptly startled by her girl’s shrieking wail, a sound she would become all too familiar with as time progressed and it became clear that they have one very colicky baby on their hands. 

At first, she thought it was just her girl having a bad case of gas, but after a few hours of useless burping and rocking, she started to understand this was something else entirely. Joel came home that night from the stables to find her sitting on the floor of the nursery, tears in her eyes and Libby still screaming in her arms. She wasn’t sure what was worse in that moment, the sound of her girl’s continuous cries, or the look of sheer terror on Joel’s face as he knelt down next to her. He had run across town right then and there to get Suze, who could only advise them to keep their girl comfortable and fed with the reassurance that this sort of thing typically only lasts a month or two. 

It’s been the longest month of her life. Libby is nothing if not consistent, quiet and sweet as a lamb in the mornings, but around one o’clock every day, the crying starts, and it doesn’t stop until late into the night. Ellie has been a saint, and Maria too. Staying with her in the afternoons, keeping her sane as she tries to calm Libby down. Joel, however, is a different story. Since all this started, he’s become silent, unreadable. Much like how he was when they first met.

He takes Libby at night, giving her something of a break when he wordlessly takes her off her hands. She finds him most mornings asleep on the floor of the nursery, pressed right up against the crib, one of his arms usually hung between the wooden slats, keeping contact with their girl who always manages to wear herself off into sleep. It’s the only indication she gets from him of just how much he cares because otherwise, he’s become completely shut off, and it’s starting to freak her out more than Libby’s incessant crying.

They don’t talk anymore. He leaves early for shifts, and when he comes home, usually after dusk, he takes Libby and holes away in the nursery. She had tried to join him a number of times, but the steely look he always gave her kept her hovering at a distance, usually dozing in and out of sleep sitting in the hallway right outside the room. She can hear him in the night, the low thrum of his singing just barely detectable below Libby’s cries, and it breaks her heart that he won’t let anyone else see that part of him, especially not her. She’s grateful for how he takes over with Libby, but it feels like it’s no longer them, no longer a team. She’s surrounded by people who care, but it seems like the one person who matters most is slipping away, and she’s never felt more lonely in her life.

“I’m uh, picking up patrol today with Tommy. Might not be home till later.” Her hands still where she had been scrubbing one of Libby’s bottles in the sink. It’s the most he’s said to her in weeks. She turns around to look at him, his gaze wandering anywhere but to hers.

“I thought you weren’t doing patrol shifts anymore.” 

“They’re down a man today. Just a one time thing.” There’s a lot more she’d like to say, but she can’t get any of it out, not when it feels like she’s talking to a complete stranger. So instead, she just nods, turning back to the sink before the tightness in her throat can spill over into tears. She hears him let out a long sigh behind her.

“I’ll um, see you tonight then.” She sniffs, only answering him with a jerky nod. The sound of his boots thudding away, the open and close of the front door, is a relief that she feels guilty for.

…

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around? It’s no sweat, really. Dina will understand.” She offers Ellie what she can of a smile, easier said than done with her other girl screeching directly in her ear as she rocks her back and forth.

“That’s alright, Ellie bean. You’ve been a huge help already this afternoon, but Joel should be back soon. You should go, have fun.” By the furrowed look on her face, Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that, but she nods.

“Um, ok. Well, you know where to find me– i-if you need me or anything.” She nods and Ellie turns to leave, but seems to think twice of it before turning back to her.

“Are you guys– are you guys ok? You and Joel?” Her heart drops at the question, but luckily Libby chooses that exact moment to raise her screaming to a new decibel, effectively distracting the both of them enough for Ellie to offer her one more anxious smile before heading out. 

She sighs with the close of the front door, continuing to try to soothe Libby as she walks upstairs to the nursery. 

“I know, Libs. Tell me about it, huh?” She sits down in the rocking chair, shifting her squirming girl to cradle her in her lap. When she glances at the clock, she realizes it’s at least an hour past when Joel should have been home. She feels terrible that she doesn’t feel much at the realization, too sleep deprived, too frustrated, too utterly hopeless to muster up much more than faint concern as Libby continues to wail. 

She sits like that for a few hours, through Libby’s ceaseless cries, the relentless noise lulling her into a sort of daze. And then, a miracle. For the first time in a month and a half, Libby stops crying before midnight. Her girl lets out a few sleepy coos before dozing off in her arms, and she has to stop herself from laughing in pure relief as she lays her down in her crib. Stepping out into the hall, she slumps back against the wall, but her peace is short-lived when she realizes that Joel still isn’t home and it’s now much later. 

It’s the final straw that finally sends her reeling as she crumples over, her hands on her thighs as she starts to heave in a silent sob. It feels like she can’t get any air in, taking quick gasping breaths that she tries to stifle, not wanting to make any sound and wake her girl up. Her mind is blaring a shrill alarm of two words, over and over again. He’s gone. Under any other circumstances, she might be able to rationalize, to not jump to the worst conclusion. But she’s running on fumes, and her mind can’t shake the thought that she may have lost him tonight. And then she starts to think about that morning, how she hadn’t even said goodbye, and it sends her down to her knees, collapsing over herself in a silent wail. 

She’s completely caught off guard when a warm palm comes to her back, jerking away from the touch and pressing back against the wall.

“Hey, hey. It’s me– it’s just me.” He kneels down in front of her, palms cupping her cheeks as he tries to coax her to look at him, but she’s still inconsolable, a sobbing mess. His face falls when she won’t calm down.

“What’s wrong? Is it– please don’t tell me it’s Libby.” The frantic edge to his voice cuts through the fog enough for her to shake her head.

“No– she– she’s fine– she’s sleeping. I thought– I thought you were gone– I thought I lost y-y-you.” She’s a shuddering mess of words, breaking down in another silent sob before she can say anymore. Joel’s hands slide down to squeeze hers, dipping his head down to catch her watery gaze.

“I’m not gone– we just had some trouble with one of the horses, alright? Just got back a little late. I’m right here.” She’s with it enough to let out a bitter laugh at his choice of words, her sobs finally dying down into breathy shudders.

“No you’re not.” His face crumples in confusion as he sits back on his haunches.

“What?” She sighs, scrubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“You might be here physically. But I have no fucking clue where you’ve been in your head ever since– ever since Libby got sick.” As she says it, she finally starts to connect the dots. Joel has been acting the same way he acted when she told him she was pregnant, when he tried to get Tommy to take Ellie to Salt Lake City, when she got shot back in Boston. Joel’s been acting the way he acts when he’s scared.

Part of her wants to comfort him, to tell him that she knows, that she gets it. But the other part of her is too far gone in the flood of frustration for that, and instead she lets that righteous anger wash over her.

“I told you that I couldn’t do this without you, that we would do this together. We’re not in this together anymore, Joel. You don’t talk to me anymore, and lord knows you haven’t touched me in at least a month. Am I that repulsive to you? The fucking mother of your child?” His eyes are wide, jaw slack at her words.

“That ain’t what this is about.” She scoffs.

“No, I know what this is about. But, jesus christ, Joel, you aren’t the only one who’s scared right now. We’re supposed to be there for each other, that’s what partners do. They do it scared, together. But you won’t let me in, and you clearly want nothing to do with me.” 

“That’s not– I don’t– it’s–” He stops his own stumbling, letting out a ragged sigh. She just shakes her head.

Before either of them can say anything else, a cry resounds from the nursery. But it’s not like the shrieks they’ve grown accustomed to. This cry is quieter, more needy than distressed. She gets up with a sigh, not looking at Joel as she walks back toward the nursery. Joel is right on her heels.

“Let me, I’ve got her.” She whips around on her heel at his words, holding her palm up between them as she tries to steel her expression.

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t.

…

She wakes up the next morning in a crunched tangle on the twin bed in Libby’s room, her girl still sleeping like an angel in her crib. After a diaper change last night, Libby had again stopped crying, another hopeful sign that the colic is finally lifting.  She doesn’t have much room to celebrate it with the way the fight she and Joel had last night is occupying her mind. Though she supposes it wasn’t really a fight, more just her falling apart on him. A cool guilt creeps up her spine. She shouldn’t have lashed out at him like that, but she knows she couldn’t hold it in any longer either.

Libby still asleep, she slips into their bedroom, an awful relief that Joel is nowhere to be seen. She’s not ready to face him yet. 

She gets cleaned up, just barely dressed when she starts hearing fussy coos coming from across the hall. Morning light slides syrupy and gold across the nursery floor as she picks Libby up from her crib. This happens like clockwork, and it’s her favorite part of every morning, sitting down in the rocking chair, Libby’s tiny palm pressing against her sternum as she latches on for her breakfast. Even right now, with her mind swirling in worry, watching the contented flutter of her girl’s eyes as she suckles is enough to soothe her.

He clears his throat, and she glances up just briefly to see him standing in the doorway. 

“I think we might finally be done with the colic.” As she speaks, she keeps her eyes focused on Libby, her ears pricking to the shuffle of his bare feet as he comes closer into the room. He stays silent, but she can feel his eyes watching her as Libby turns her head away. She gets up with a sigh, still not looking at him as she bounces lightly side to side, rubbing her girl’s back after readjusting her shirt. 

“I can burp her if you want. Save you a shirt.” She finally looks at him as he speaks, worry clear in the crease between his brows. Part of her wants to be petty, to tell him that she’s got it and shut him out. But she also knows that this is him trying, so she gives him a small nod, gently passing Libby off to him. He’s been good with her from the start, and now is no different as he holds her to his chest, shushing her fussy whimpers as he lightly pats her back. She can’t help but smile at the sight, leaning up against the crib as she finally holds his gaze.

“Made coffee, if you want some. Pot’s probably still warm.” That’s a peace offering if she ever heard one. She hums, nodding noncommittally in response. It’s clear that Joel has something else to say.

“Could we– could we talk?” He sounds so unsure of the question, his brow all twisted up. She’s already thawing, offering him a smile and a nod.

“That one will conk right out when you’re done burping her. Let’s talk after you get her down, alright?” He sets his mouth in a thin line, his eyes still soft as he nods. She passes by him with a sigh, her palm resting for a moment on his bicep as she presses a kiss to Libby’s crown before slipping out of the room. She really needs that cup of coffee.

Spring is finally thawing out the winter freeze, and it’s just sunny enough to sit on the back porch with a warm mug and a sweater. It isn’t long before he joins her. She notes the way he keeps a sizable distance between them on the bench seat.

“Sarah was colicky too, y’know.” She hadn’t been expecting that, turning to look at him. He’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he cranes his neck back to meet her gaze.

“Was she?” He nods, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Scared the living shit out of me. Her mom– well, she wasn’t much help. Pfft, pretty sure I cussed out the doctor when he told me I just had to wait for it to pass– wait for Sarah to get better.” He studies his hands, fingers flexing as he continues.

“She cried and cried– just like Libby. I stayed up with her every night and just about lost my mind. Knowing she– my baby, my girl– was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do. It was torture.” She brings a tentative palm to his shoulder, feeling him slacken under her touch as he finally looks at her again.

“I’m sorry, darlin. I got stuck in the past and left you here to deal with the present.” She sets her mug down before scooting closer to him to sling her arm over his shoulders, feeling relief when he lets her tangle her other hand with his.

“I accept your apology. I just wish you would’ve talked to me. I know you don’t think I can understand– and I probably can’t, at least not entirely. But I can’t even try to if you don’t let me in.” She rests her chin on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his sigh.

“I know you’re right– I do. It’s just so fucking hard. I just– I’ve gotten real good at running away from it– just shutting it down. Talking like this feels damn near impossible.” She leans back, coaxing him to look at her.

“We knew this wasn’t gonna be easy. And we said we’d get through this together. Joel, you can’t shut down like that– you just can’t. I– we need you too much.” He swallows hard, nodding at her words, and she can’t help but brush his wavy hair out of his face, resting her palm on his cheek afterward.

“You talk to me, huh? And I’m gonna try so hard to understand. I promise.” She stamps her words with a kiss, pressing her forehead against his as they both let out a sigh. 

“Gonna do better by you, darlin. Not gonna disappear on you again.” 

…

“It’s magic, right? It’s gotta be magic.” Joel quietly laughs at her whispers, both of them looking down at their girl who is fast asleep in the settling night time by some sort of miracle. Libby had done so much better the rest of the day. No more relentless shrieking or fussy squirming. It was like a switch had been flipped, and she and Joel are just hoping it stays that way. 

He places his palm between her shoulder blades, head tilting toward the doorway. She gets the hint, both of them quietly padding out of the nursery and across the hall to their own bedroom.

“Are we actually gonna get to sleep in our own bed tonight?” He smiles at that, lifting his hand to brush his fingers along her cheek. He’s being careful, she can tell. All day he’s been quiet, but close, taking the day off of shifts to stick by her side. She knows that this is his way of apologizing, his way of trying, and she’s grateful for it.

Whether or not they’re showering together has become a sort of litmus test to determine how their relationship is doing. They haven’t done this in a month, and she only realizes how much she missed it, missed him, when she finally gets her hands on him again, running her soaped-up palms along the broad expanse of his back as he faces away from her under the warm stream of water. She smiles at the groan he lets out when she presses her fingers into that spot between his shoulder blades that’s always knotted up, working the kink out before slipping her palms further down. A breathy chuckle thrums in his chest when she slides her palms down the strong curve of his ass, stepping in closer to wrap her arms around him and trail her hands up the soft muscle of his stomach.

“What’re you doing back there, mama?” She can hear the smile in his voice, and revels in the shudder that runs through him when she presses a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Taking care of you. You gonna let me?” She feels the huff he lets out in the rise and fall of his shoulders, quick to turn in her hold and steal one, two, three kisses before she can press on his chest to get him to let up. His hands fall to her waist, squeezing at the swell and pulling her into him, chest to chest. His cock rests hot and solid against her thigh.

“We take care of each other, huh?” His words bloom warm in her chest and the smile she offers him is the biggest relief. He reaches behind her to grab the bar of soap, lathering up his hands. It’s a strange contrast, the roughness of his palms and the tenderness of the press of his skin against hers as he trails over every inch of her body he can reach. She gets both, and she knows it’s a gift.

His touch begins to linger and stutter, squeezes left to his favorite parts of her, his grin growing smugger with each shudder he coaxes out of her. 

“We’re wasting water. Maria’s gonna kill us.” He groans low at that, laying a harsh squeeze to her ass that she yelps at.

“That is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” She breathes out a laugh as he corners her against the tiled wall. She barely manages to flip off the water as he presses against her, licking hotly into her mouth. With a light tug to his damp waves, he pulls away, both of them panting in the humid bathroom air.

“Can we at least get dried off? The last thing I want is one of us slipping and cracking our skull open.” Joel grumbles at that, shaking his head as he steps in closer. However, with the step he takes, his back heel slips out causing him to stumble into her as they both struggle to stay upright. They’re a tangle of limbs as they find their footing, her arms wrapped over his shoulders and his around her waist. Looking at each other, all they can do is laugh.

“Would it kill you to tell me I’m right every now and again?” She teases him, a crooked grin as she stays wrapped up in his arms.

“You’re right– you’re right– you’re right. There, will that do, darlin?” He punctuates each repetition with a chaste kiss to her lips, leaving her laughing as he jostles her in his hold. She hums lightly.

“Hmm, I suppose. For now.” He huffs at that, retaliating with a hard smack to the curve of her ass that has her jolting in his grip, causing them both to stumble about in the shower again. They’re fools for each other, only for each other.

Drying off is made all but impossible by the way they stay glued to each other, and their skin is still damp when they finally make it to their bed, toppling into the sheets still tangled up in kisses and sighs and wandering hands. Joel coaxes her onto her back, settling between her legs as he trails a hand down to her cunt, dragging a brazen swipe through her heat that has her arching up into her touch.

“Joel, please– no teasing tonight. I just– I need you, baby.” He shushes her with a kiss, fingers languidly circling her clit.

“You’ve got me, darlin– not going anywhere, huh? Gonna give you what you need.” She has to bite back a whine at the loss of his touch, but it’s only a fleeting desperation as he presses the throbbing tip of his cock up against her entrance. Though it’s been a while, they move well together like they always do, bodies in complete communion as she draws her leg up along his waist, opening up to him as he presses his hips forward. He stills with his hips hilted into hers, his forehead pressing into her sternum with a ragged sigh. 

“Fucking hell– missed you so bad, mama– s’not fair how good you feel– not gonna last like this–” His voice is hoarse, broken by sweet agony, and she tries to soothe him with a smattering of kisses to his hairline, drawing him to look up at her.

“It’s ok, baby. Just wanna feel you– feel so perfect, Joel. Can you move for me?” She presses a kiss to the crease between his brows and he chases after her lips, groaning into a deep kiss as he rolls his hips back only to snap them forward again. He swallows the gasp she lets out at the deep grind of him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he guides them into that familiar push and pull. 

In just the few months of having their girl, they’ve learned how to keep quiet, all breathy sighs and muffled kisses, but she’s having a hard time holding back her high-pitched whimpers at the way he’s thrusting into her, punctuating each snap of his hips with a hard grind that strokes a spot inside her that’s already tilting her over the edge of pleasure. But it starts to become too much when Joel brings his fingers back to her clit, drawing stuttering swipes that have her spasming around him.

“C’mon, mama– let go for me– want it so bad– that’s it, darlin–” his praises become muffled noise as she comes, her heels now digging into his ass where her legs are wrapped around him, clutching him as he fucks her through the rolling high. Joel is quick to follow, pulling out of her with a harsh groan and sloppily stroking himself a few times before his warmth is smearing across the plush of her thigh. It's a far cry from the heated trysts they used to engage in, hours on end of tangled passion long traded in for these little bursts of love that she cherishes just as much, if not more.

He collapses next to her, slumping on his back, his arm crossed over himself to keep his palm splayed over her stomach. She rests her hand on top of his, tangling their fingers together as they both catch their breath. But, there isn’t much time to revel in the moment when soft cries start to carry from across the hall. She can’t help but smile as she looks at him, and he lets out a sigh.

“Go get cleaned up, mama. I’ve got her.” He punctuates his words with a kiss, leaning over and brushing his fingers along her cheek. They share a quietly murmured “love you,” and she idly watches him get up, the soft pull of his muscles as he slips on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers before padding across the hall to Libby’s room.

They don’t get to sleep in their own bed that night. After getting cleaned up, she trails into the nursery, finding Joel quietly singing to their girl in the rocking chair. He glances up at her, but keeps singing, his voice low and sweet, lulling Libby back to sleep in his arms. With their girl tucked back in her crib, they wind up in a close tangle on the twin bed.

It's the best sleep they've gotten in a month.