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bambihrt · 4 months

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Celebrating your Anniversary with Lucifer Part 2

I wasn't planning on writing a second part but after seeing how loved part one was I just had to so enjoy!

Lucifer considered himself a nervous demon. Blame his abandonment issues for that. He knew you loved him, but he couldn't help his anxiety telling him that you'd leave just like everyone else has. One night when sleep couldn't find him, he snuck into his workshop to fiddle with his ducks to distract him from his worries. All of a sudden he felt two arms circle his neck and you nuzzle to his left side.

"C'mon baby, you can work tomorrow, let's go to bed."

Though he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, he took your hand and let you lead him to your shared bedroom. As he crawled under the covers, you snuggled up next to him. holding him as you pet his hair. Throughout this whole encounter, he was silent and had a distant look in his eyes. You could see through this act immediately and knew what the cause of his nighttime anxiety was.

"I can't wait to wake up next to you forever. I'll always be here with you Lucifer. I love you."

After that night you made sure to always validate his feelings when he was having a moment of low self-esteem. You started leaving notes around your home for him to find at random moments. Opening the pantry he'd find a note on his favorite cereal telling him 'good morning lu!' and opening his tool box he'd find another post-it saying 'can't wait to see what you create :D'. Through these little actions, he'd learned to trust that you will be there for him.

One day while you were out to see your friends he was having a bit of a depressive episode and didn't want to bother you while you were enjoying yourself so he went into your office. He grabbed your favorite plushie knowing it would smell like you and give him comfort. As he turned the stuffed animal in his arms he felt a crinkle and pulled what was stuck on it off. A note reading 'call me love :('. This moment was when he knew.

Lucifer had to marry you. Nothing would make him happier than the honor of being your husband.

Bringing him back to the present day, he watched you try and hook a golden duck for him in the game you made. Of course, you would do something so special for your anniversary. You weren't the only one with a surprise up your sleeve. He checked his watch noting it was almost time.

"(Y/n)? My love? I've left my phone inside I-"

"Oh I'll go grab it don't worry," you immediately cut him off not wanting to make him go in on his own. As you headed inside the hotel, you were met with a trail of rose petals leading you under the chandelier. "What is this?"

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer was walking behind you and cleared his throat stealing your attention away from the grand decor around you. He got down on one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket.

"I thought it was only fitting to do this in the very place we met and on our anniversary. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You showed me the light when I was stuck in a dark place and ever since then, I've loved you more than anything. You have been the best partner I could ever dream of. There's only one thing that could make my life perfect and that would be you agreeing to marry me. (Y/n) my heart and soul, will you allow me to be your husband?"

Nodding, you couldn't get the words out as you began crying. You had no idea Lucifer had been planning this. A high-pitched squeal came from behind as Charlie jumped out throwing rose petals over you, "I'm so happy you're joining our family!"

Lucifer reached out to your hand, slipping the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen onto your finger, and gently pulled you into a tender kiss. Softly whispering, "Thank you for everything, my love."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer

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prisma-palace · 23 days

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my favorite thing about the ranchers will forever be that their entire relationship was built on Trust. they failed 2/3 of scotts couples games but they objectively did the best out of all the pairs because they never got mad or annoyed when the other failed

tango couldve gotten mad at jimmy for getting hit by the goat but he just laughed it off. jimmy couldve gotten mad at tango for not catching him with the water at the fall but they both just joked about it instead. tango even WILLINGLY let them both get down to half a heart in the powdered snow but jimmy never picked the snow up with the bucket, and even asked tango if he was proud of him for that which he WAS. ("did you appreciate that i didnt pick it up?" "i appreciate that trust! that says a lot, my friend!")

i feel like theyre genuinely one of if not THE healthiest relationship in the entirety of the life series cause they never got mad at eachother for any of their faults. tango lost their green life episode one in a stupid way; out of everyone on the server jimmy had the most reason to leave his soulmate but he DIDNT. jimmy forgave him for dying the second tango explained what happened (he even made digs at himself??? ("i feel like im gonna die in the future and youre gonna have to take the punishment of it")) and they recovered the best they couldve in that situation

jimmy even trusted tango enough to let him go into the Exact Same Cave he JUST died in to recover his stuff and later let him go down to the deep dark alone to Intentionally Summon A Warden when if it was anyone else they wouldve not let tango out of their sight for the whole season. hell, tango held it against himself for dying more than jimmy did. they basically just met after being strangers for two seasons yet they already trust eachother more than some season-long alliances

long story short, the ranchers are everything to me and i love them very much

#i say stuff #long post #rancher duo #team rancher #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #got a little too silly i fear #they sicken me i feel physically ill thinking about them #i dont usually do analyzation posts like this cause words are hard sorry if this is worded weirdly

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cobragardens · 8 months

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My Favorite Good Omens Moment:

An Essay on Why It Is Cool and Rad (Part 1)

There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.

My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.

David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:

Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.

The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.

In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:

Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.

And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.

And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.

And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so; David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:

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Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.

We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The Inbetweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity; then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and another male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.

This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:

You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.

Okay. Now let's look at 1601.

Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.

In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:

In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:

Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).

And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:

Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.

TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness blossom.

As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.

Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:

Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard. In the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.

There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.

That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:

What are you doing? or

Why are you like this? or

How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or

How has my existence come to this? this moment of listening to such insanity?

each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.

But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:

He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play--right after Crowley complains about its gloominess--and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.

Remember that we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.

So with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, what does it mean that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head?

Once more, with inferences:

I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh.

Crowley's amusement here isn't at Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is eliciting that amusement consciously and deliberately. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offers Crowley not only an opportunity for amusement, but the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. They're on the same side of this joke.

And his humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--

But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.

--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."

I offer three final data points in advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop:

Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-lift blur because Tennant cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part, and it's underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep Crowley's eyes visible and face readable to the audience. This reaction is supposed to be there and supposed to be meaningful.

Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:

Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him. There, too, his humor lands just as he intends, so we can use this other moment as a comparison to our 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42. Snips below.

Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--

--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.

In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.

In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering him amusement they're both on the same side of is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, Crowley doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.

But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, maybe something worse than death for Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.

And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps acting so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.

And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.

UPDATE 14/10/23: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL IT GETS EVEN BETTER! THERE IS A SEQUEL!

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 1601 #good omens microexpressions #good omens headshake #angelfish #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fanalysis

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dean-winchesters-clit · 5 months

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Gods, can I gush about the CGI in the Percy Jackson show for just a minute??

All of it is so fucking good!

The work was gone by ILM or Industrial Light and Magic, who are an incredible effects house and also one of the oldest effects houses there is. ILM was founded in the 1970s by George fucking Lucas to make the effects for the original Star Wars trilogy. They are the reason the original Jurassic Park had CGI in the first place! They worked with Jim Henson on The Dark Crystal and Tobe Hooper on Poltergeist, which has sone crazy awesome effects if you've never seen it. A part of ILM broke off in the 1990s and became fucking PIXAR!!

And Percy Jackson has had just the best looking effects I've seen in a long time. The creature work alone is worth so many awards. The minotaur was amazing.

And the illusion of Chiron is never broken, it's just seamless and perfect.

And don't get me started on Medusa's snakes. They're PERFECT. THEY ACT LIKE REAL SNAKES!!!

And the chimera was beautiful. I loved the decision to give it a cobra's frill.

Also, water is a notoriously difficult effect to do and all the water looks amazing in this show. I bet they pulled some people from the Avatar sequel to help with it.

And Grover's legs never look bad. They're always perfect. I love the decision to keep them exposed the whole time, it adds to the magical feeling of the world while also showcasing how powerful the Mist really is.

And one of my favorite effects HAS to be the way Mrs. Dodds' coat turned into her wings. I saw that and had an out of body experience.

But this most recent episode just blew me away. Specifically with this (these next gifs are by @stevenrogered) :

So, if you didn't know, tracking an effect onto someone's body is incredibly difficult. It's so difficult that CGI artists will often replace someone's body with a 3D model in order to make it easier. That could be what happens here in part, but they can't fake Walker's face.

Props to Walker for sitting as still as humanly possible during this incredibly emotional scene. Him sitting still helps make the tracking of the effect easier since the artists don't have to adjust the effect every frame to account for the slightest movements. Which brings me to the face.

It is so hard to animate human faces and not fall into the uncanny valley, and yes this effect applies to that. Look at the way the gold conforms to the shape of his mouth as he speaks. Look at how it follows the movement of his chin, his cheeks. It's PERFECT. This is an incredibly impressive effect and I wanna just worship whichever overworked and underpaid VFX artist spent hours of their life working on it.

Okay, that's all, rants over, everyone go home!

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 24 days

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Heavy

Summary: Reader's having a depressive episode and needs some comfort from her mate

Content Warnings: Depression

Author's Note: I should be finishing my Vamp!Rhys fic but I got sad and wrote this instead

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Velaris is beautiful at night, from the glittering stars overhead, to the soft gurgle of the Sidra rushing over time worn stones beneath the city’s many intricate bridges. The music makes the whole city feel full of light and laughter, couples often dancing and humming in the streets. It’s one of your favorite places to be.

Usually.

Tonight it’s just… there. Though you stand in the heart of it, everything moves around you, never quite touching you. It’s as if you’re suddenly a stranger in the place you love the most, the emotional distance between you palpable.

You jam your hands in your pockets and keep walking, though you’re not really sure where you’re going, your body moving on autopilot. It’s been like that for a couple weeks now, if you’re honest, you’ll be half way through the day sometimes before you realize you’re not sure how or when you even got out of bed, or gotten dressed. Did you even eat? Kiss your mate good morning? Rhys has been working long hours in Illyria lately, most nights you’re already asleep before he’s even tumbling into bed, but, now that you’re thinking about it, that could also be because you’ve been going to sleep earlier too.

You frown at your boots as you walk, trying to remember when this happened. It’s not new, you’ve had bouts of this since you were a teenager, but they’ve been better thanks to regular sessions with Madja and some other healers. Art therapy in the Rainbow has helped too. Usually you can tell when you’re starting to slip into the darker places in your head, but it crept up on you this time.

By the time your mindless wanderings bring you back to the Townhouse, the light from your upstairs bedroom is already on, meaning Rhys somehow finished his business and beat you home. You’d only planned to grab some takeout so you wouldn’t have to cook, and yet, here you stand, hands as empty as your stomach.

The door opens before you can even reach for your key, soft light spilling out into the entryway. “There you are!” Rhys says by way of greeting, as if he’d been waiting by the door for you. Your mate leans in to place a quick peck on your lips as he guides you inside.

“Did you go to Rita’s with Mor?”

He should be able to tell you hadn’t, since you’re wearing the same sweatpants you had been for a week, but then again, he also hasn’t been home enough to know you haven’t changed out of them.

“No I…” you hate talking about this stuff, hate feeling like you’re burdening anybody with the weight you feel pressing down on your chest. “Uh, went to get dinner.”

Rhys stares down at your empty hands, eyebrows raised teasingly. “Did you forget to bring it back?”

You run a hand over your eyes. Cauldron they’re so heavy! Why is everything always so heavy? Your whole body feels like it’s made of bricks, just the effort to kick off your boots feels like it takes every single drop of energy you have left. “Sorry.” Even speaking feels like too much.

Rhys frowns, “Darling, are you ok?”

“Just tired,” you say, avoiding his eyes now.

He steps forward, placing a knuckle under your chin and tilting your face towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired,” you repeat, but your eyes are watering now.

He stills, violet eyes roaming over you, assessing for the first time tonight how you look, the dark circles under your eyes. He knows you haven’t had trouble sleeping, he’s barely been able to wake you when he comes home at night. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears falling in earnest now.

Rhys’s features soften as he lifts you into his arms, the bond flooding with warmth and understanding as he says, “It’s not your fault. You can’t help it.”

You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you upstairs. “I thought I was doing better… but everything just feels heavy again.”

He kisses your forehead gently as he climbs into bed and settles you down against his chest. Twisting, his wings unfurl so he can curl one around you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. “What can I do to help?”

You wrap an arm around his waist as you settle your face against his chest, his heartbeat steady and even beneath you. Madja had said once that this was helpful if you got overly anxious, the steadiness of his breathing helping yours level out, and it helps now too, gives you something to focus on. It’s grounding and you let your breathing sync up, your chest rising and falling against his own. Madja hadn’t been able to stress enough how important it was to find something to ground you in the present when you got like this, lest your thoughts start to spiral deeper and deeper into the dark.

“Just need you to hold me for a little while,” you say.

Rhys pulls your favorite blanket up over the two of you before wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you,” and the bond floods with more warmth than you think you deserve, but it doesn’t let up when those thoughts sneak in. “I’ll do anything you need me to.”

You place a gentle kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, fingers tracing shapes in your back. “No one has all good days.”

“But nothing even happened,” you protest. “I just woke up one morning and it was just so heavy to be awake.”

He kisses your temple. “We can see Madja in the morning, if you need, but you can’t beat yourself up. You have no control over it.”

You press your temple into his chest and breath in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. “I hate it.”

He places another kiss to the top of your head. You know he hates it too, hates that it’s a battle he can’t fight for you, no matter how much he wants to. “It will pass.”

Rhys is warm, his presence soothing, the darkness that seeps from his skin on the days he hasn’t had the time to expel enough of it, drifting over your body in soothing motions. This is safe and quite and peaceful. Your body starts to settle more and more as time goes on.

“Do you really believe that?” You whisper. “That it’ll pass?”

“Yes,” he says. “It has before, and it will again.” Knowing he’s had the experience himself, you’re inclined to believe he’s right.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” you admit.

Rhys holds you a little tighter, “Till all the stars fall from the sky, my love.” He holds you all night, whispering all the things he loves about you as you start to fall asleep.

You let yourself fall into it, hoping tomorrow will be better.

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #Rhys x reader fluff #rhys acotar #acotar fic #acotar fluff #my writing #my fanfic #fanfiction #Rhys fic

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cowboykento · 8 months

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brat.

minors dni!!! warnings: face fucking, hair pulling, kind of mean dom!nanami (he is still so loving, i can't help myself), pet names (angel, sweetheart, princess, etc), light degradation (slut, brat), someone got a little... inspired after seeing nanami in the new episode. wc: 855

“You really thought you could send me that in the middle of work and I’d just let you get away with it?”

The grip Nanami has on your hair makes your head spin. You’d sneakily sent him a photo of yourself in his favorite lingerie and a flirty little ‘miss you :(‘. Of course you knew he couldn’t do anything about it until he got home, but that made it all the more fun.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he growls, holding your head inches away from his so you can feel his breath as he bites out harsh words. “Anybody could have seen that, but you know that, don’t you? Or did you want that?”

You whimper as he yanks your head back to suck a dark bruise into your neck, “No, no. Just for you, Kento.”

He nips at the spot he’s left, “Damn right you are. All mine. My slutty little girl, aren’t you?”

You nod your head furiously, trying with everything in your body to grind down on Nanami’s thigh that he’s pressed between your legs, keeping any relief or pleasure just barely out of reach from you.

Tears flood your eyes as he pulls back on your hair, “Use your words, sweetheart. You’ve already been so bad today, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?”

“No,” you stutter out, “No, I’ll be good for you, promise.”

Nanami pulls you in to kiss your lips hungrily, nearly devouring you before he pushes your head down, forcing you to your knees, “That’s right, you will be a good girl for me, won’t you? Always are. Just wanted to be a little brat today, didn’t you? Wanted me to set you straight. That’s alright sweetheart, you know I’m more than happy to do a little… attitude adjustment. Take my cock out, baby, come on, it’s all yours.”

You do as he says, entranced and hanging onto every word that falls from his mouth like they’re the oxygen you breathe. You undo his belt and unzip his slacks quickly, not wanting to be accused of teasing and punished even more.

Nanami keeps your hair out of your face in a vice grip that makes your scalp burn. You pull down his pants and boxers and his cock springs out, already leaking from the tip.

You lean in to lick the pre away before Nanami pulls your head back sharply, “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You take what I give you tonight,” he warns, inching his cock closer to your waiting lips.

Your eyes are glazed over and you’re nearly drunk on the feeling of being dominated by Nanami as he slaps the tip of his dick on your lips a few times, smearing his pre all over your lips and chin.

In a much softer tone, one you’re more used to hearing from your husband, he says, “Tap my leg if I’m being too rough, sweetheart,” before thrusting himself into your hot mouth.

You fight not to gag as Nanami lets out a groan that sets off the butterflies in your tummy. Nanami forces you up and down his cock, his pace instantly brutal as he fucks himself with your throat.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re so naughty when you wanna be, but we both know better don’t we? My little angel just wanted some tough love, didn’t she? Knew I’d give it to her, spoiled brat.”

You moan at Nanami’s words and tears roll down your cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever been more turned on in your life, never been so desperate to have Nanami inside you, pounding you even more senseless than you’ve already become. You know Nanami wouldn’t approve right now, but you can’t help sneaking your hand down between your legs to finally give yourself some relief, rubbing your clit just slightly, hoping that Nanami wouldn’t catch on.

If your brain wasn’t so hazy, you would’ve known better than to do anything other than what your husband explicitly tells you to do, but you can’t even form coherent thoughts right now, much less differentiate which ones are good or bad.

“Oh, princess,” Nanami groans, not relenting from his brutal pace, “put your hands behind your back for me, won’t you? Can’t have you touching my pussy without permission, can we? It’s okay, sweetheart, know you wouldn’t do it if you could help it.”

Tears continue falling, now from frustration and desperation as well. You can tell Nanami’s close when he picks up his pace, his cock twitching in your mouth. You make an effort to run your tongue along the base when it reaches your mouth, and like that Nanami’s shooting his load down your throat, squeezing on your hair and forcing you to take every drop.

“Fuck, angel, fuck,” he groans breathlessly, finally letting his grip in your hair loosen as he pulls himself out of your mouth.

You swallow his cum happily, a sight which makes Kento’s worn out dick twitch back to life, even if he’s seen it a million times before.

“Fuck,” he pants, “now let’s take care of that bratty little pussy.”

sorry guys i went into a blind writing frenzy and this is the result. my brain shut off immediately after seeing the new episode.

minors/blank blogs dni or you’ll get blocked :3

hope u all enjoyed thx for reading!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk season 2 #jujutsu kaisen season 2 #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut

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aviscarrentals · 2 months

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i want to play a (racing) game

a series of f1 fics based off of some of my favorite horror movies

charles leclerc- the shining

you, your boyfriend, and a bunch of friends decide to spend your winter break together in a giant hotel. what could go wrong?

max verstappen- it

after years away from your hometown, derry, you suddenly receive an urgent call from your long-forgotten childhood friend, alex, that leads to you returning to the very place you swore you would never face again

carlos sainz- a quiet place

after losing everything you know when the world fell into apocalypse due to the invasion of alien-like monsters with some very sharp ears, you find a new family in the other survivors

lando norris- scary movie (saw parody)

you wake up next to a stranger in a dimly lit room chained to a chair, which is bolted to the floor. luckily, the situation turns out to be more humorous than terrifying (may or may not be 100% based off of the jerma episode of generation loss LOL)

fernando alonso- freaky

you wake up in the body of a middle aged man. but not just any man. a man who also happens to be a wanted serial killer.

george russell- the purge

you and your best friend alex's annoying best friend, george, have to work together to survive the purge night (lily's also there)

pierre gasly- unfriended

you and your friends video call every friday night to hang out together. unfortunately, an angry spirit has decided it wants to spend some time with you guys as well...

mick schumacher- fnaf

after countless failed attempts, you've finally found yourself a new job! the bad news is, it's a night shift and you're scared of the dark. so, naturally, you drag your boyfriend along with you.

alex albon- child's play

when you and your boyfriend unexpectedly have to take in your young niece, you two struggle to make a connection with the little girl. maybe splurging on the cool new doll she's been wanting will fix that.

yuki tsunoda- final destination

what do you do when some random guy that you've never spoken to before tells you he's seen visions of you dying? what do you do when it turns out he was right and death is pretty pissed off?

oscar piastri- the menu

you and your husband have worked non-stop to build a successful, stable life for yourselves. you two really deserve a break. how about a fancy dinner on a remote island prepared by one of the most revered chefs in the entire culinary world?

ollie bearman- scary stories to tell in the dark

it's the final halloween before you have to move away from your hometown and your best friends since birth. hopefully you can make it a night to remember.

lance stroll- the cabin in the woods

you and your boyfriend decide to invite some friends to spend the weekend in a little log cabin in the forest as a way to momentarily retreat from your stressful lives. well you definitely won't be getting any rest this weekend, that's for sure.

logan sargeant- scream (aka yelp)

an eerie masked killer has made its way into your town and is slowly picking kids off one by one. who could it be? is there anyone you can trust? prologue chapter 1

liam lawson- happy death day

happy birthday! i hope you're excited because this will be the longest day(s?) of your life

sebastian vettel- the texas chainsaw massacre

it's summer, which of course means it's time for a roadtrip! unfortunately, you and your friends decided to visit texas, usa, where everything's bound to go wrong (because it's texas, usa)

kimi raikkonen- would you rather

desperate times call for desperate measures, although at this point desperate would be an understatement. so when the perfect opportunity falls right into your lap, who are you to turn it down?

jenson button- halloween

it's halloween! the spookiest day of the year. even though you don't bother participating in silly little holiday celebrations, there are some traditions you can't ignore…

mark webber- 28 days later

the world has gone to shit. even so, you're doing everything you can to survive, despite how hard it is on your own. maybe it would be better if you formed a team?

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sycamorelibrary754 · 9 months

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Come Home To Me

Summary: After returning home to the Avengers Compound from separate solo missions, Wanda learns the meaning behind one of your tattoos is more than what it seems.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Avenger!Reader.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None

A/N: Behold, my first attempt at writing a fic. I'm pleased with the end result, so I'm being brave & posting it. Shoutout to @yelenasdiary for encouraging me to give it a go. 💜

The morning light shone through the window of Wanda’s bedroom as both of you cuddled up under the covers. You silently thanked Tony for installing black-out curtains in the compound bedrooms as Wanda’s red magic trailed ever so slowly around the fabric, bringing much-needed darkness to the room.

You had both returned from solo no-contact missions the night before. Usually, you did your best to keep in touch when both of you were on separate missions, even if it was only an emoji to let the other know that you were there. Without that contact, you both felt like ships lost at sea with nothing to anchor you.

Wanda was the first to arrive home. After her debriefing with Fury, she was determined to stay awake for your impending arrival.

Walking past Wanda on the way to her room, Natasha gave Wanda a knowing smirk. “No training tomorrow.” Not even stopping to engage in conversation.

Wanda turned as the Black Widow kept walking past her toward the compound kitchen, “Why?”

“You know why,” Nat called out in response without even turning around.

Upon arriving in her room, Wanda changed into her favorite pajamas and turned on her favorite episode of the Dick Van Dyke show. One she had seen more times than she could count, but it was always her comfort show. Even more so when you were away.

An hour later, your Quinjet softly touched down on compound grounds. You tiredly made your way to your debriefing, the Med Bay for a few minor stitches in your leg, and your room for a quick shower. By the time you finally make it to Wanda’s room, the only sound you hear as you slowly push open the door is the laugh track of your girlfriend’s favorite show. The glow from the television perfectly illuminating her sleeping form under the covers. You carefully made your way to your side of the bed and curled up next to Wanda. Her eyes slowly opened to see your exhausted face smiling back at her.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said.

“You’re finally home” Wanda whispered.

“So are you.” You replied as you gently caressing your hand across her cheek.

It had been so long without her touch that you almost forgotten what it felt like to not sleep alone. You came together for a gentle kiss that lingered on for what seemed like forever. Not in desperation, but in contentment, as you were finally whole again.

“Go back to sleep, love. It's so late.” You say, as you turn off her television and readjust the covers over both of you.

“We have the day off tomorrow...” Wanda mumbled. Her Sokovian accent slipping ever so softly into her speech. Her weariness finally catching up with her now that you were home and safe in her arms. You fall asleep with hands and hearts intertwined.

You lay in bed as Wanda traces the outlines of the tattoos that cover your right arm. She had always found them fascinating.

“What does the owl mean?” Her voice broke through the thickened silence.

“What?” You glance over, as her green eyes connect with yours.

“The owl tattoo on your forearm.” Wanda reiterated.

“Oh. Well, the owl is the companion to Athena, the goddess of wisdom. It was seen as a symbol of protection in Ancient Greece. If an owl flew over Greek soldiers before a battle, they took it as a sign of victory.”

Wanda nods as you look down at the tattoo on your arm, brushing your fingers lightly over the ink.

“There is another reason….” You say so softly that Wanda almost misses it. “When I’m on a mission without you, it reminds me that I will always find my way back to you. I’ll be victorious and I’ll come home to you, no matter where I am.”

Wanda takes your face in her hands. Her magic trails around your head and gently calms the inner recesses of your mind. Her eyes meet yours in gentle reassurance. She can hear your thoughts questioning whether that was too much to share.

“I love you with all my heart. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“I love you too,” you reply.

A couple weeks later, Wanda suits up for a mission with Nat and Bucky. They were to infiltrate an underground Hydra facility that had recently started experimenting again with what Tony and Bruce believed to be new technology. Nothing Wanda hadn’t seen before, but still unsettling. Memories forever fresh of her time in Hydra facilities with Pietro. The only sound able to permeate her memories is the sound of Nat announcing that you’re roughly an hour out from your target and Bucky regaling them both with another story of his exploits in 1940s Brooklyn with Steve.

Missing you, Wanda absentmindedly reaches into the front pocket of her suit and feels the creases a folded-up note against her fingertips. Removing it slowly, she recognizes your chicken scratch handwriting that you absolutely despise, but that she finds adorable.

Come home to me, Wanda.

Forever my love,

y/n

Wanda opens the small black box accompanying the note to reveal an ornate silver owl ring. Edgy, yet elegant. With tears gathering her eyes, she quietly slips the ring onto her right ring finger. It slides into place smoothly, as if it was always meant for her. A spot it never left from that moment on. No matter the mission, no matter the circumstance. You had your owl and she had hers.

It may look like a simple piece of jewelry to the rest of the team. Nat often catches Wanda staring at the ring during briefings, especially if you aren't there. And Yelena still doesn't understand why she couldn't borrow it for a date night with Kate. To your little witch, it is more than a ring. It’s a comforting reminder of the love you both share. An unspoken promise to always find your way back home to one another.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #marvel #the avengers #fluff #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x reader #avenger!reader

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tangibletechnomancy · 2 months

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Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

#ai art #generated art #simple stable #stable diffusion

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hannyoontify · 4 months

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my lighthouse - yoon jeonghan

member | jeonghan x reader genre | fluff. hurt/comfort word count | 1.9k synopsis | on your darkest, most gloomy days at sea, jeonghan becomes your lighthouse warnings | reader is feeling very big (bad) feelings, allusions to a depressive episode, reader is kinda mean to jeonghan BUT for good reason (i think) but jeonghan is very understanding (bless his soul) notes | completely absolutely self indulgent. i’m not even embarrassed about it anymore. not proofread

Today marked the fifth consecutive rainy day. The highways were jam packed and the dull concrete sidewalks were flooded, preventing any unlucky pedestrian from being able to trek across the muted, gray city. The streets warbled an unfamiliar melody and thunder rumbled like a choir of grand pianos falling downstairs.

You love the rain. The peace and serenity that came along with the dark clouds had always been a favorite for you. Rain meant a hot cup of chamomile tea in your special Snoopy mug that you had set aside just for days like these. It meant sitting on your special chair, your arm resting on the windowsill as you stare out the window that was opened just enough for you to smell the crisp air and enjoy the sound of rain, as you wait for your tea to cool down. Rainy days meant enjoying the gentle aroma of chamomile surrounding you and your eyes fluttering shut as the steam from your drink floated and danced around you. It meant breathing harshly against the glass until it fogged up, then drawing silly cartoons as fast as you could before the condensation on the cold surface disappeared.

But you just couldn’t do it anymore. Drinking hot chamomile tea and drawing the same initials ‘YJH + Y/F/N’ for four days straight became a bore. The constant sound of rain against your window roof became a bother and you hated the traffic that came along with it.

Jeonghan’s ears perked up at the sound of a low thump on the floor, followed by a string of low mumbling as you shuffled through the entryway and into the kitchen. He sat up from where he laid on the couch and watched as you grumpily sauntered to the kitchen while shrugging off your wet coat, trailing it behind you.

“Baby?” Jeonghan called out. You let out a loud huff and continue to mumble something under your breath as you set down a pack of ramen very aggressively on the marble counter. Scared for your safety (and the ramen’s), Jeonghan pushed to his feet with a quiet groan and made his way towards your side. His sock-covered feet padded along the hardwood floor.

He silently stood by your side and took the second pack of ramen from your hands before you absolutely demolished it on the counter, similar to its kin that now probably laid in pieces on your kitchen island.

You grumbled and angrily threw a frozen pack of meat into the sink. “Woah, woah, baby. Let’s calm down.” Jeonghan reached over and gently grabbed your hands, his thumbs gently rubbing over your wrists as his eyes searched your angry, teary ones.

Wait, tears?

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Jeonghan asked. Your pupils shook and you bit down on your bottom lip, but he still noticed the slight quivering that you failed to hide. Your hair was wet and it was sticking to your forehead and he noticed a slight shiver in your body as your wet clothes annoyingly plastered themselves onto your shaking skin. Jeonghan reached out and rubbed his hands up and down your arms, trying his best to warm you up. “Did something happen?”

You pushed his hands off of you and grabbed your wet coat that still laid on the floor before storming off into your bedroom. All with wet, red eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Jeonghan watched you disappear and sighed when the door slammed shut. Deciding to give you some time, he turned around and began to put away the rest of the groceries, handling them with much more gentleness and care than what you were doing before.

After putting the groceries away, Jeonghan pulled out your special Snoopy mug that you always set aside for rainy and snowy days and reached for the teabags only to find the chamomile portion completely empty. Jeonghan frowned. That wasn’t possible, since chamomile was both of your favorite teas, and he had accompanied you to buy a whole new pack of tea bags just last week after you heard about the rain forecast. You had gleefully grabbed his hand and dragged him through the tea and coffee aisle with a bright, child-like grin on your face the entire time.

Thinking of your smiling face made Jeonghan even more upset that you weren’t in a good mood, and he peered into the trash can to spit out his gum when he noticed a mound of unopened chamomile tea bags dumped inside, along with wadded up napkins and Cheeto bags. Jeonghan’s frown only deepened as he tried to connect the dots.

It was raining, your favorite kind of weather and yet, you were in a bad mood. You threw away all the chamomile tea bags you had left, although they were your favorite. You were being aggressive and you were never aggressive when you were-

He heard a strangled yell from your shared bedroom and Jeonghan looked up at the closed door with a worried look in his eyes. Against his better judgment, Jeonghan walked over and opened the door and took a peek inside. You were sitting on the closet floor with your back towards him, your knees propping your arms and your head buried in between your legs as you quietly sobbed. From behind, Jeonghan could see your silent sobs wracking your body in small waves.

Jeonghan felt like someone had just stabbed him in the gut and twisted the knife. He silently watched for a few more seconds before he closed the door, physically unable to watch you cry anymore. He desperately wanted to join you by your side and comfort you, but Jeonghan knew that that wasn’t what you needed as of now. Right now, he knew you needed space.

When you came back out of the bedroom in a pair of baggy sweats and an oversized shirt (that was probably Jeonghan’s) with red, swollen eyes and a sniffly nose, Jeonghan didn’t say anything and simply pushed your special Snoopy mug in your direction, across the kitchen island counter.

Seeing that ceramic cup made something in your stomach twist, and you were ready to push it off the counter and let it shatter along the hardwood floor when you noticed a new sweet aroma permeating your senses.

“Noticed you threw away all the chamomile we had, so I opted for something sweeter. I hope that’s okay,” Jeonghan said gently. He distanced himself from you, watching you intently with gentle eyes as you nursed the cup of hot chocolate in your cold hands. “If you don’t like the cup, I can put it in another one and-”

“N-no,” You quietly interrupted. “It’s okay… Thank you.”

Jeonghan smiled and watched as you lifted the mug to your lips and took a sip. The sweet drink was the perfect temperature, not too hot but not too cold. The taste was dark, rich and the thick consistency coats your tongue before it flows down your throat, leaving a warm, tingly sensation throughout your entire body. The top is swirled with white whipped cream and spotted with cocoa powder and mini marshmallows. You choke back another sob before you take another sip and you’re transported back to your childhood.

You suddenly remember one rainy day in second grade, you and your siblings huddled up in front of the hearth. The fireplace crackles as you and your siblings push and shove as you're seeking enough warmth from the small fire that burned in front of you. Your mother approaches you, her arms full with a tray with steaming hot chocolate and all the children cheer. You’re clapping your hands together in glee as your mother makes a big show out of counting the big marshmallows out loud and dropping them into each mug. Two for each, it’s always been like that.

You set down the cup and Jeonghan panics when he sees tears silently streaming down your face. He circles around the kitchen island hurriedly and still slightly unsure of whether he should approach you or not, Jeonghan stands in front of you and awkwardly pats your shoulder until you glare at him. Through your tears, you manage to hiccup out, “Just hug me, you- *hic* -idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.” One teary-eyed look from you and he shuts his mouth, but your idiot was happy to comply.

Jeonghan wrapped his long arms around your shoulders and let you cry into his shoulder like a baby. He made soft soothing noises as he rubbed his hands on your back, slightly rocking you back and forth on your feet. You pressed your face further into him, as if burying yourself within your love would somehow prevent the pain you were feeling. When you had finally pulled away, the entire shoulder of his shirt was damp, but Jeonghan didn’t mind.

He looked into your eyes. They were glassy and bloodshot, glistening and glinting in the dim light of your kitchen light as you hiccupped to try and catch your breath. Jeonghan cupped your face with his hands and wiped a stray tear away with his thumb.

Jeonghan rested his forehead on yours. “How are you feeling, love? Do you need anything?” He whispered. From where he stood, he could see a stray tear lingering on your lashes that streamed down your face once you blinked.

“Can you please hold me?” You asked in the meekest voice Jeonghan’s ever heard from you. “I just… had a really bad day and-” You let out a shaky breath and your boyfriend quickly pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I understand, angel. Do you want to talk about it?” Jeonghan gently guided you to the couch, the cup of chocolate in one hand, his other hand guiding your waist.

You settled down into the couch, your body melting into the comfortable mold of soft pillows and pressed your face into Jeonghan’s chest, inhaling the homely scent of him and you swore you felt yourself relaxing just through his smell. “No… I think, I just need to be with you right now.” You muttered.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything in response. He simply wrapped an arm around your shoulder to bring you closer, resting his lips atop of your head. His other hand traced small, unintelligible shapes on your thigh as you sat alone with your thoughts.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Jeonghan mumbled into your hair.

“Do what?”

“All that thinking by yourself. If there’s anything you want to talk about or need to get off your chest, you can always tell me. Is there someone you want to cuss out? We can cuss them out together.”

You felt another sob clawing its way up your throat and your eyes burned.

“Thank you, for everything.”

Jeonghan was your lighthouse. He stood tall and strong at the end of a lonely pier, shining his bright light into the dark and empty abyss of an ocean called the world. His beacon of light was sometimes the only thing that got you through the rough waves of life that often tried to tug and pull you under into the cold, harsh oceanic waters. His bright light pierces through the rainy night and offers you refuge after a long, horrible day. Jeonghan’s words of encouragement, his selfless acts of service, and his constant reminders of why you deserved to be loved was what helped you stay afloat. He was your safe place, your home.

And you were so so grateful to have him in your life.

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

#hannyoontify.works #caratlibrary #seventeen #svt #jeonghan #seventeen fluff #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #seventeen oneshot #jeonghan fic #jeonghan oneshot #yjh

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thought--bubble · 5 months

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Right Place, Wrong Time PT (1/3)

Dark Aemond X (Out of World Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,789

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Right Place, Wrong Time Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

A/N: i spent forever trying to shorten this so it would be a one-shot but I lost too much of the story and decided to make it two parts, so part two will be posted tomorrow.

(This one is a bit different then my other Aemond one shots due to the request received. This was created from THIS request)

Warnings:: Alcohol use, Threats of violence

"I am so drunk." You turn to your best friend Becca and laugh, a big loud laugh that ends in a snort.

"I noticed you're a big sloppy mess," she eyes you up and down. "Can't take you anywhere, it seems," she teases as she pulls you up from your stool at the bar. "Time to go"

"What? Noooooooo!" You whine loudly."I don't wanna gooooooo yet!" You look at her with a drunken pout.

"Rideshare is outside. Come on, we'll go back to your place and chill." She takes you by the forearm, trying to keep you steady as she guides you out of the bar out onto the cold sidewalk.

She helps you get into the rideshare as you fall over yourself, giggling loud and obnoxiously. "Good lord, you lush!" She chuckles as she gets in beside you.

"Not a lush," you murmur under your breath, "just like to have fun is all. You should try it sometime"

The rest of the ride back to your flat is quiet. You rest your head against the door of the car, closing your eyes, the gentle hum of the car nearly lulling you to sleep.

When the car pulls in front of your place, Becca has to practically drag you out of the car and up the steps.

"Come on!" She struggles to hold you."You're not as light as you think you are!"

"Hey! Rude!" You chuckle as you try to stand yourself up straight, fishing your key from your handbag. You attempt to put the key in the lock but keep missing it.

"Give me that!" Becca scowls as she pulls the key from your hand. "You're a bloody menace, you know that, right?"

"I keep things interesting." You wiggle your eyebrows at her as she gets the door open.

"Just get in there and try not to fall." She motions you inside, and you stumble past her, making your way to the sofa.

As you plop down on the sofa, you groan loudly and say, "I'm hungry"

Becca rolls her eyes and heads to the pantry, picking up a pack of graham crackers, your favorite snack.

"MMMm grammys," you wiggle happily in your seat on the sofa as she throws the packet into your lap.

"Put something on," she says as she pours two cups of water from the kitchen.

You reach onto the coffee table to snatch the remote, almost tumbling off.

"I'm putting on the dragon show! But, I'm skipping to the second half. When the sexy guy with the eyepatch comes on"

Becca puts a cup of water in front of you.

"Aemond is a bad guy. You're not supposed to like him, " she laughs at you.

"If they didn't want me to like him, they shouldn't have him looking like that. I don't care what he has done. He's forgiven, and he has full permission to do whatever he wants to me at any time. " You giggle as you settle yourself back into the sofa.

"You're a sicko." Becca gets comfortable laying on the other side of your sofa.

You are barely into the episode when your eyelids get heavy. You fight the feeling of sleep trying to make it to the scene you want to see.

What seems like a quick blink was anything but. You wake up and stretch, rubbing your eyes to take in your surroundings.

You look around the room, yawning, as your brain turns on your eyebrows furrow. This is not your room. You look down at yourself. You are in a chemise under thick, heavy blankets.

"W-w-what the fuck?" You move toward the edge of the bed sliding your feet out and over the edge.

"Good morning lady, you look up and see Becca dressed up like some old time maid.

"Becca, thank God, dude. Where are we?" You stand up and run your hands through your hair.

"My apologies, my Lady, we are at the red keep? You have a morning meal with your betrothed. We need to get you ready for. " she moves toward a wardrobe and shuffles through some old style fancy dresses.

"Betrothed? What are you talking about!" You close your eyes. "Am I asleep right now? Cmon self wake up. " You smack your cheeks as Becca stares at you in concern.

"My lady..... Are you feeling unwell? Should I get the maester?" She walks towards you.

"The fucking what? No, i need an intervention! Clearly, I drink too much. " You pace the room, "Cmon wake up! Wake up!"

Becca moves towards the door. "I will get you some help, my lady"

"No! Don't bring anyone here. I just need to wake up!"

"My lady, I need to get you ready for morning meal." She shifts uneasily from foot to foot.

"Oh no. Nope. Not having some imaginary breakfast with some imaginary betrothed person in my fucking head" you look up toward the ceiling and laugh "I've lost the fucking plot"

"My lady, Prince Aemond, would be most displeased if you did not arrive as arranged"

Your head snaps down, "Umm, wait. Did you just say Prince Aemond? As in... pale hair? Eyepatch? Slutty waist? Extreme sexiness?"

Becca's cheeks turn a bright crimson. "Prince Aemond Targaryen, my lady. Your betrothed"

"Right. Well.... I mean. . This is a dream, right? No harm in sleeping a little longer, yeah, ok, dress me up!" You smile widely and hold out your arms.

Becca nods and gets to work, putting on layer after layer of skirts and undershirts and whatever else these old-time dresses require. She does your hair in a pretty braid that she wraps around your head.

Once she is finished, she smiles and tells you how wonderful you look.

"Ok, so where am I going?" You look at her expectantly.

"The dowager queen's chambers?" It's obvious that she is confused that you don't know this already.

"Right. Obviously, " you chuckle. "And uh. Someone will walk me there? I mean, I'm a lady and all that stuff?"

Becca tilts her head to the side as she goes to speak, but then stops herself. "Yes, Sir, Simon is just outside he shall accompany you "

You smile wide and rub your hands together. "Alright, then I'm off before I wake up!" You chuckle and walk quickly out the door to find a knight waiting for you.

"Lead the way, Sir. Knightington!" You lean forward hands behind your back.

"My lady, I am Sir. Allen Simon"

"Yeah, ok, cool. Let's go see the prince of hotness. " You wave your hand, gesturing for him to start walking .

The very confused knight nods and leads you through the halls of the old castle as you smile like a goofball walking behind him.

He stops in front of an old wooden door and knocks. A maid just like Becca opens the door and gestures you in while, sir. Simon stands by the door.

As you enter the room, your excitement peaks when you see Aemond and Alicent sitting at a small table with tea and foods set upon it.

You bring your hands to your face and squeal like a school girl. " ahhhh, best dream ever!"

They both look at you wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry dear, is everything alright?" Alicent tries not to be too obvious with the fact that she is secretly judging you while Aemond actually looks quite amused.

"Oh yes. Yep. All good here. " You sit at the table and unabashedly stare at Aemond.

"We were hoping to discuss the wedding." Alicent starts.

"That today? I'm hoping to get to that whole wedding night thing." You keep staring at Aemond. Who desperately holds back a laugh.

"Oh!" Alicent is shocked by your statement but quickly recovers. "No, my dear, it is still a few moons away"

"Ugh!" You grumble, annoyed.

The rest of the meeting Alicent goes over different things for the wedding. You just nod and agree with whatever she says while keeping your eyes on Aemond.

Aemond tries to listen to his mother but regularly turns back toward you to see you staring at him every time.

After breakfast, you are taken back to your chambers.

You sit in the room and stare at the door. "What kind of dream is this!" You sigh in frustration. "He should have come and fucked me senseless by now... this dream sucks"

You move towards the bed and lay down thinking if you go to sleep in your dream, you will wake back up.

When you wake from your nap, you look around. You can see that it has gotten dark, but you are still in the castle.

"When the fuck am I gonna wake up?"

You end up asking yourself this repeatedly when every night for the last five nights you go to sleep only to wake up back in the castle.

On the morning of the sixth day, you sit in the garden, your head in your hands. You are fully panicking. Are you in a coma?

"You look distressed, my Lady." Aemond sits down next to you. "Has someone caused you discomfort?"

"No. I'm not supposed to be here, but I'm stuck here. " Your eyes start to water, and tears trail down your cheeks.

"It may feel that way, I would assume most women feel like that when they join a new family and leave their own. Just know I plan to make sure your every need is met"

"No. I mean, I'm not supposed to be here. " You gesture your hands around wildly."Dragons aren't real, purple eyed, sexy one-eyed princes aren't either. I was poisoned or drugged or something, and now I am stuck in my head. " You put your face in your hands and start to cry.

Aemond is shocked and sits next to you silently. "I'm sorry my Lady. I seem to be having trouble understanding what you mean?"

"Dude, you" you wave him up and down "are from a TV show based on a book series. You are not real. you're in my head, and I think i'm dying because I can't get out of it"

"I can assure you I am, in fact, very real." He lifts your hand and places it over his heart. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes.... but I am imagining it. I lived an entire life. with electricity, cars, and cellphones, " you sigh. "No, either I'm in my head, or I somehow drank myself into an alternate dimension."

Aemond's skin prickles at this statement.

"I know..... someone... who may have the answers you seek"

You quickly snatch his hand and pull him up. "Ok, let's go." As you start to tug him, he tugs back.

"We are not going to see them now. I will come to you when the time is right. " His face is pensive, and his jaw taught.

"What? I can't wait anymore!" You tug him again.

He yanks his arm from you. "Stop it. You are acting like a child"

"So, bring me to your mystery friend and get my ass sent back to a world with heating and indoor plumbing, and you won't have to marry me anymore." You smile at him cheekily.

He clicks his tongue and looks you up and down. "Very well, I will bring you to her, but it will be on my terms." He swiftly walks away from you, his long hair swaying from side to side.

You feel incredibly relieved when only a few days later, in the dead of night, Aemond returns to you sliding into your room. You shoot up in the bed, looking around frightfully as your eyes adjust to the darkness.

"My lady?" He whispers as he enters the bedchamber with a hooded shawl hanging over his arm.

"Jeeze, you scared the shit outta me." You hop out of the bed in just your chemise.

He drags his eyes down your entire body to your toes and back up again.

"See, now you got me thinking this is a dream again." You chuckle.

He clears his throat. "Get dressed, and put this on." He hands you the shawl. You take it and quickly throw it over your shoulders.

"You... should put a dress on" he stammers.

"Right." You take the shawl off and go to the wardrobe. " I don't know how to put one of these dresses on by myself!"

He huffs and walks towards the wardrobe and pulls out a basic dress.

"It couldn't possibly be that difficult to figure out." He helps you into the dress, his hands touching your body as he does so.

He laces up the back of the dress, pulling you so close to him that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.

He stands there for a minute with his hands sliding up and down the laces on your back as you hold your breath. Before he suddenly pulls away.

"Let us go quickly." He picks the shawl back up and places it over your head and shoulders. When you turn around towards him, he ties the shawl closed, looking directly into your eyes.

He moves his face close to yours and breathes in deeply before pulling back again.

"Follow me closely." He moves toward the wall in the back of your chamber and pushes it open.

"Oh, cool!" You nearly shout as he whips his head around back at you.

"Would you like us to be caught?" he asks, annoyed.

"Sorry." You cover your mouth quickly.

As you enter into the passage way following behind him, you whisper under your breath. "This is really cool, though," as you look around.

He makes a noise that you think is a chuckle, but you aren't sure.

You follow Aemond through the passageways and out down towards a smelly little town.

"This place is nice"

"No. It is disgusting. " He replies, Your sarcasm clearly goes over his head.

He leads you through the quiet streets in the dark until you come across a little hovel like house. He quietly knocks on the door as he looks side to side.

A very beautiful older woman opens the door.

"I was waiting for you." She moves to the side, allowing you both to enter.

Once you both enter, she closes the door behind her.

"This is her?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"Hmmm," he replies.

"Let me see your hand, child." She holds her hand out to you, and you place yours in hers. She closes her eyes and hums quietly.

"Yes, Aemond." She opens her eyes and looks at him. "You were right. The spell worked. When we sent Rhaenyra away, we pulled this girl in. There must always be a balance."

"We need to find a way to send her back," He says curtly.

"We agreed that whomever was pulled here in her place would be dealt with....." The woman says gently, holding your hand tight.

Fear prickles up the back of your neck.

"No. Not her. Send her back. Whomever comes in her place will be dealt with, but she goes back. Set up the spell again."

"I do not have everything necessary... " The woman starts.

"Alys! I said she goes back. Get what you need and then send for me. I will have her at the keep until then. " He takes you tightly by the arm and drags you back out of the hovel.

When you get outside, you pull your arm out of his grasp. "You! You brought me here?" You back away from him.

"Quiet your mouth." He snaps at you. "All will be explained once we are back at the keep now move." He reaches to grasp your arm again, but you pull it out of his reach.

"No. No way! dude, you dragged me into a different reality! This, This is insane!!" You start to hyperventilate.

"Enough!" He takes your chin tightly in his hand. "I could end this problem easily but have, against my better judgment, decided to take pity on you and simply send you back to where it is you came from." He calms himself slightly, letting go of your face but quickly taking hold of your arm.

"I would suggest, you do as I say in an effort to preserve what little patience it is that I have left"

You gulp loudly and nod your head, allowing him to lead you back toward the tunnels and back up into the keep.

"It shouldn't be too long." He pulls you up next to him as he lets go of your arm and reaches up to gently cup your cheek.

"You can trust me"

Part 2

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bookshelf-dust · 5 months

Text

let the light in

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2,177

warnings: (this is a heavy fic! please be aware before you read if any of this is triggering for you!) swearing, reader suffers from depression/is in a depressive episode, allusions to passive suicidal feelings and self harm (not explicitly stated), trouble eating/drinking, wooziness, side effects of self-neglect, trouble with self care, one use of y/n, slight hair description—essentially reader is just very depressed

a/n: hello! it’s been quite a while since i wrote anything, but alas i have remembered how. i used this fic as a way to deal with things i’ve been going through and provide myself some comfort, but i’m hoping that it will reach anyone else who needs that or understands these sort of feelings. i really need a steve, and maybe you do too. please be kind! this is a tentative attempt at getting back into writing. also as a small note, this is meant to bet set in the mid 90s, so reader and steve are in their twenties. happy reading <33

————

The phone is ringing again. For the third time.

You know who it is without having to answer. It’s not like there are a plethora of people with your number anyway.

But for the third time, you let it ring. When the shrill noise stops, you think you’re in the clear—only for the sound of Steve’s voice to reach your ears. He’s leaving you a voicemail.

Fucking answering machine.

You stare at the wall, your arm dangling off the bed, while you listen to him say everything you knew he’d say. That he’s worried. That he’s coming to check on you because your lack of an answer is freaking him out.

And you gave him a key all those months ago, so it’s not like you can stop him. You wouldn’t have the energy to anyhow.

You roll over and tuck your hands under your cheek. You have no idea what time it is, but the little light your curtains had let in is gone, leaving your room dark. There is a small night light though, just under your window, that Robin bought you because it looks like your favorite flower. Other than that, your small apartment has succumbed to the darkness of a winter evening.

That pressure behind your eyes builds, and without knowing why, you begin to cry. Steve is going to see you like this, and you want to be alone. You don’t have it in you to talk about it or be berated for letting yourself go.

But you’re also angry. You don’t understand why he gives a shit about you, or why he can’t just leave you alone. Why he can’t just let you go. Why he won’t let you go.

Most of all you’re angry at yourself for being this way. For being so fucked up. For being alone and for having to watch everyone else be happy and content.

In your emotional haze, you fall back asleep. You’re not sure how though, considering you shouldn’t even need the rest anymore. But that tired feeling ever goes away, does it?

You wake to the sound of footsteps, to the feeling of your mattress dipping behind you. There’s a gentle weight on your side. Steve.

“Hey, honey,” he starts. “Did you get my message?”

Steve’s hand rubs softly back and forth over the dip of your waist. You hate the pitying tone in his voice. Even if you know it’s not pity. It’s pain. He’s too big of an empath, and he hates seeing you this way. It breaks his heart, not knowing what you’re feeling and having to see you in a way that embodies nothing more than a shell of the you he first met.

“You need to go home, Steve,” you say, refusing to face him. He’s turned your lamp on, and something about that pisses you off.

Your voice is pleading, and it brings tears to Steve’s eyes. He pushes his glasses up onto his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that. I won’t leave you here like this.”

You roll your eyes and shift onto your back. Steve’s stomach drops at how drained you look.

“I want you to leave. I need to be alone,” you say, staring at his hand where it’s moved to your stomach with the change in position.

Your words are harsh, thick with emotion, and you look at Steve like you’re begging him to see how much you’re hurting and need him to go away. You want him to listen and leave you here to slowly disappear. That’s all you’re asking for. So why can’t he give you that much?

It’s killing him to see you like this. To watch you try and push him away. He knows that’s part of your plan. That way it’ll be easier, in the end. But this is not the you he’s always known. There was a time before it got this bad. Before you lost yourself in it.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, rather than fueling your frustration.

You roll onto your side, completely facing him now, and pull the blankets up to your chin. Your eyes fill with tears, so you close them. Something about being asked that upsets you. You don’t feel like eating and he’s going to make you.

Steve puts a hand on your leg and waits for an answer.

“Yesterday. At breakfast. I had a Pop-Tart.”

He keeps himself from sighing, but his heart might as well have dropped out of his ass. You haven’t eaten in 36 hours, and he’s sure that if he hadn’t shown up you might’ve made it more. You’re clearly not worried about eating, and there’s not a single cup in your room either.

“Please don’t make me eat, Steve. I don’t feel like it. Please don’t make me do anything.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes. You want to be left here until your body gives up on you.

“Honey, I’m not going to force you. But I came here to help you, and I need you to try and let me.”

Your vision goes blurry, tears rushing to the surface because the idea of taking care of yourself in any way upsets you more than anything. You cover your eyes, but can’t hold back the sob that lurches up your throat.

“Y/N, sweetheart, come here.”

Steve slips a hand around your back, coaxing you upwards. You oblige, happy to let him hold you for a moment. You ignore the fact that your vision blurs again, due to the fact that you haven’t sat up in who knows how long, and fall into him.

“I can’t, Steve. I can’t do anything or remember a damn thing. I’m so tired. I don’t feel like being alive. I don’t want to move.”

Hearing you express those feelings through your cries, hearing you tell him how bad it’s gotten tears him apart. He wants to make it all better. He can’t bear seeing you like this. And he doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve done to take these feelings out before he got here.

Steve holds you until you stop wailing, and even when you pull away the tears still come, hiccups making you hold your breath. Your eyes are swollen and your nose won’t quit running. It doesn’t bother him one bit.

“I know you probably don’t want to do anything, so I have a plan for you, okay? I’m gonna turn the shower on and let you hop in while I get you something small for dinner. I’m gonna take care of everything.”

You sigh. You can’t leave your bed. Besides, who knows if you’ll even be able to stand with how little you’ve put in your body lately.

You press your face into Steve’s shoulder and shake your head. “I don’t think I can.”

He places both hands gently on your cheeks and lifts your face to get you looking at him.

“You can. I’m going to help, I promise. You won’t have to do anything too demanding.”

Steve slides off the bed and stands. He gently pulls the blankets back from your lap, revealing criss crossed legs and socked feet. He taps your knee and you brace yourself against the mattress, moving your legs over the side, toes feeling for the floor.

He holds out his hands and you grab hold of his forearms, letting him pull you upwards. Just as suspected, your vision swirls and your body goes all tingly. You sway a little, but Steve holds onto you still, waiting for the moment to pass. After a few seconds, your sight clears, your ears stop ringing, and you can stand on your own. “I’m okay now,” you say.

He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You don’t deserve this. He needs to stop being so good to you when you’re falling apart.

“Stretch a little, alright?” Steve looks at you over his shoulder before going for your dresser and opening your pajama drawer.

You try to do as he says, ignoring the way you feel compelled to tell him not to take this so seriously. You press your hands to your back and lean so your hips pop, raise your arms so your shoulders do the same, and bend so harshly that your vision goes out again. Your body is so angry with you.

You’d closed your eyes, but open them when you hear the shower start running. Steve leaves your small bathroom and walks toward you.

“I laid everything out for you, okay? You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want, you only have to cover your bases. You’ll feel so much better after, I promise.”

You nod, and Steve is surprised by the way you hesitantly walk into the bathroom and mentally prepare yourself to shower.

“Yell if you need me,” he says, smiling before he closes the door behind you.

You’ve never wanted to shower less in your life, but the water is already running, and you have to get it over with. You quickly undress, avoiding the mirror and anything that might cause an extra ache. Though you do run a hand over the tender skin of your thigh before opening the door and stepping in. You know you have to be kinder to yourself.

As for bathing, you’re quick, but you wash and condition your hair and make sure to wash your body just as well. You’d never admit it, but being clean does help some. At least you’re physically taken care of.

When you’re finished, you realize you hadn’t gotten a towel, but your eyes soon find what Steve had laid out for you.

Two towels. Underwear. Your robe. Clean pajamas and socks. Not to mention the lotion and hairbrush he slid forward on the counter so you’d reach for them. He did all of this to make things easier for you. And that makes your heart grow in size.

You towel off and make the effort to put lotion on as best as you can. Usually you can haphazardly do your back on your own, but you’re so tired now, you realize. You haven’t moved this much in days.

You gently pull the bathroom door open. “Steve?” you call. He’s there within seconds.

“Yeah? All done, sweetheart?”

“Almost. Do you think you could put lotion on my back for me? I might need help with my hair, too. If you don’t mind.”

He smiles so sweetly at you. “Of course I don’t mind. Come on.”

You watch as he pumps some of your lotion into his hands, sniffing it just to make you grin. You move your robe down off your shoulders so that he can get to your back, careful to keep your chest covered. Not that he’d dare look anyway.

His hands are gentle and soft against the nape of your neck, up and down your spine, on your lower back. He covers the area for you, taking the time to massage it in and hopefully provide you a little relief.

When he’s finished, you pull your robe up and tie it around your waist. You don’t have the chance to reach for your hairbrush because he’s already got it, fingers gathering your mass of hair towards your back. You can feel the heat of him behind you, and the ache for physical contact surfaces in your chest.

Steve is incredibly gentle when detangling your hair. He starts at the bottom and works your way up, apologizing each time it snags. It feels so nice, so mundane and comforting, that you close your eyes and let yourself feel his hands on your scalp, on your shoulders. You let him take care of you without complaint.

When that’s over he allows you to finish dressing. You slip into the pajamas he’d chosen for you, not disregarding the fact that the shirt is one of his.

You patter out to the kitchen, where Steve has fixed you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut into triangles. You sit next to him on your couch and eat in the quiet of the evening, you enjoying being less alone and him glad to see you eating.

He takes your empty plate from you shortly after, noticing how sleepy you look.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go lay down, yeah?” He helps you up and holds your hand on the way to the bedroom. He’d changed your sheets while you were showering.

You sit down on the bed, watery eyes looking up at him. “Are you leaving?” you ask.

“No, sweetheart. I was going to offer to stay.”

“Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Steve slips into bed beside you. “You don’t have to worry. I’m right here.” He takes your pinky in his. “I promise you won’t have to suffer through this on your own. I’m not going anywhere.”

You squeeze your pinky against his, and in that moment, the pain in your chest eases just a little bit.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts #savannah’s fics #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x depressed!reader #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: self harm

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