#Warm Bath- How it Might Help Beat Depression?

[arminsfavoritepookie]

○ BURDEN by @arminsfavoritepookie

○ Synopsis: “He would do whatever it took to win your heart, even if it meant sacrificing his own sanity in the process.”

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Fem reader

○ Contains: Obsessive tendencies, Mentions of Stalking, creepy and shy eren, mentions of mental illness, depression, mentions of not eating/sleeping, again obsessive tendencies. Modern Au

The old cafe was shrouded in shadows, its dim lighting casting a melancholy veil over the patrons huddled in the corners, muttering under their breath. Eren, slouched in his seat at the back, felt a sickly rush of excitement building within him as he waited for you to arrive.

His cold, forgotten cup of coffee sat beside him, abandoned and stale. His eyes, glimmering with an unsettling intensity, were locked on the entrance, and he licked his chapped lips in anticipation. 

At last, you entered. Your form was as graceful as a swan's, your movements a flawless, delicate dance. Every person in the cafe glanced your way, enraptured by your ethereal beauty. Eren too was spellbound, but not in the way one might expect. He felt a seething contempt bubble within him, fuelled by his obsession with you. He had to possess you, to break you down and find out what made you so captivating. 

As you seated yourself by the window, Eren couldn't help but fixate on you, studying your every movement. You were bathed in the warm glow of the sunlight, which only seemed to enhance your already breath-taking appearance. He could feel the raw power emanating from you, and he yearned to bask in its aura.

The pool-like swirls of emotions in your eyes fascinated him, and he felt his own reflection trapped in their hypnotic depths. He wanted to plunge into those depths and explore every inch of you.  It was not just your beauty that enthralled Eren, it was your unyielding command over those around you. You moved with a confidence that only came from a sense of self-importance and authority.

Your every breath seemed to hold the world in sway. You were meant to be worshipped, and Eren was all too willing to become your devoted follower. As he sat in the corner, his heart beating erratically in his chest, he knew he had found something rare and precious. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't stop his mind from obsessively constructing images of what your life was like, what made you so commanding, and how he could enter your world and become a part of it.

The coffee had gone cold, forgotten in his trembling hands, but Eren hardly noticed. His mind was a whirlwind of thought and emotion, fixated entirely on you. He had to possess you, no matter the cost.

The cool, aloof exterior you presented was enough to turn any man's head, but he wondered what it was like to look past that facade and delve into the depths of your mind. The warm glow of the early morning sun illuminated your stunning features, accentuating the intricate tones in your hair.

As Eren gazed upon you, he couldn't help but feel drawn to your cool, aloof exterior. The way you presented yourself to the world was enough to turn any man's head, but for him, it was something else entirely. He longed to delve deep into the depths of your mind and explore the enigma that was you. 

The warm glow of the early morning sun illuminated your stunning features, accentuating the intricate tones in your hair. He couldn't help but watch you as you perused the menu with delicate fingers tracing each dish. It was like watching a goddess in her element. Every movement, every breath, every fondle of your hair—it was all exquisite to him. 

But as the seconds ticked by, his obsession with you began to consume him. You were a puzzle that begged to be solved, an enigma that he simply had to explore. His mind was consumed with thoughts of you, and the darker ones began to surface. He imagined sweeping you away to some secluded location, where he could finally unveil the depths of your desires and unlock the full potential of your being. It was a disturbing thought, but he couldn't help it.

To him, you were the ultimate prize, the most breathtaking creature he had ever laid eyes on. Eren's mind was a dark and twisted labyrinth, shadowing your every move, learning every habit, every nuance of your being. He would watch with fervent intensity as you left your apartment each morning, his eyes hungrily tracing the contours of your lithe form as you made your way to the nearby office building.  

The mere thought of you was enough to set his blood boiling with lust and longing. He yearned for your attention, desperate for the chance to whisk you away to a life beyond your wildest imaginings. He craved the ecstasy of being in your embrace, lost in the depths of your beauty and grace.  

Each night, Eren would find himself drawn to the base of your building, his eyes locked onto the window where you rested, a breathtaking vision even in sleep. The darkness only served to heighten the ethereal quality of your being, illuminating your angelic face with a soft, otherworldly glow.  

As the wind whistled through the streets, he could almost hear the faint whisper of your voice echoing through the stillness, a symphony of grace that enveloped him completely. But sometimes, when the longing became too great to bear, Eren would find himself sneaking into your room, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to be near you.  

He would inhale the intoxicating scent of your lavender-scented bedsheets, the silky fabric whispering against his fevered skin as he traced his fingers over the garments scattered on your carpet. His obsession teetered on the brink of madness, yet he was powerless to resist it.

Your beauty was a tantalizing riddle that he ached to unravel, an elusive and exquisite enigma that defied all comprehension. In your presence, Eren felt whole in a way he had never experienced before. Every moment spent near you was a precious gift, a tiny glimpse into a world he could never hope to touch.

He was utterly consumed by you, his fixation hidden away in his private thoughts, for you were nothing short of perfection. A celestial being, sent from the heavens above, every feature of yours flawlessly crafted by the gods themselves. The way your eyes twinkled, as if each glance held an endless supply of stardust, left him breathless.

He could get lost in them for an eternity and never tire. And the curve of your lips, oh, they were a work of art, like a masterpiece painted by the greatest artist of all time. They were divine and made him weak at the knees every time you spoke. Your skin was smooth and luscious, like a rose petal untouched by any flaw, beckoning him to run his fingers over it, exploring every nook and cranny.

The way the light caressed your skin, creating a perfect symphony of radiance and beauty was something he could stare at forever. The sound of your laughter was enchanting, like the sweetest notes of a violin. It was a melody he could never get enough of and made him want to bask in your presence for all eternity. Yes, his fixation was unhealthy, and he knew that. He understood the boundaries and respected them.

Still, he couldn't help but get lost in the ecstasy that was you, the most exquisite creature he had ever known. His private indulgence, the epitome of perfection, everything about you was something he could never forget. but in his mind, he could think of no greater joy than losing himself in the bliss that was you —the most wondrous creature he had ever had the privilege of seeing .

Eren's heart thudded erratically against his chest, echoing throughout the quaint little cafe as he pushed open the heavy wooden door. The rich, warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee flooded his senses, enticing his nostrils, but his gaze was fixated on one thing and one thing only - finding you.

His mind conjured up a vivid image of you standing by the window, your radiant presence casting a spell over him, making everything else in the room fade away.  As if a dream had materialized into reality, his eyes landed on you standing exactly where he had pictured you. You had your head buried in a book, the spine bending with every page turned, your body swaying slightly to a tune only you could hear.

The gentle tapping of your foot on the hardwood floor, barely audible in the din of the cafe, brought a smile to his lips. It was clear you were waiting for your coffee, and he knew he had to seize the opportunity to speak to you. 

With each step he took, Eren's apprehension mounted. He tried to ignore the way his palms were damp and clammy, or the dryness that crept up his throat, as he inched closer to you. As he stood beside you, he tried to muster the courage to make small talk, hoping to charm you with his wit and humor. But it was no use.

His eyes were magnetically drawn to yours, the bright glint of which shone like a thousand suns in a sky full of stars.  The cashier's call for your coffee snapped Eren out of his trance, but his hand moved reflexively towards yours as you both reached for the same cup.

The electric jolt that ran through him upon your fingers touching his, sent a flush coursing through his veins. He watched in amazement as your hand enveloped his, causing a tingling sensation to spread across his skin like the kiss of an angel's wings.

His heart swelled at the thought of this unexpected intimacy. When he looked up at you again, he saw something he had never seen before —a deep, intense look that seemed to bore straight through him, as if you could see everything he was feeling, everything he was thinking.

At that moment, Eren's heart thundered in his chest, sweat coating his palms as his eyes remained locked onto yours. The raw vulnerability he felt in your presence was a sensation he craved, as though being exposed to your gaze was the only way he could breathe. As you stuttered an apology, Eren watched as you grabbed your coffee with quivering hands.

His obsessive tendencies screamed at him to reach out and touch you, to soothe your nervousness, but he remained restrained by the facade of normalcy he presented to the world. But his mind was a tangled web of desperation, of longing to be the only thing on your mind. The way your fingers fidgeted around the lid of your cup sent chills of desire down his spine, his eyes never leaving the way you moved.

He stumbled through his apology, Eren's gaze still remaining fixated on you, taking in every detail of your face, your hair, the curve of your neck. He could feel the energy radiating between the two of you, as though a current was running through the air, binding you together in a magnetic embrace.

Your shy smile only added to the madness within Eren, his brain racing with possibilities, schemes to ensure you were never out of his reach. The realization that you shared a love of the same brew was like a revelation to him, his twisted mind taking it as a sign that you were meant to be together.

The possibilities of a future with you filled him with a dangerous euphoria, driving him to believe that anything was possible, as long as he kept you by his side. For Eren, this small moment was just the beginning of a plan that would consume him completely, the first step in a journey towards owning every inch of you, both physically and mentally. He would not let this chance slip away.

As the weeks went by, Eren found himself sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of jumbled thoughts. His mind was consumed by one singular desire: to see you again, at that quaint little cafe. He spent hours obsessively planning his appearance before each meeting, scrutinizing every detail in the hope of impressing you. He would sit across from you, gazing at your pretty face with a fervor that bordered on madness. Your perfectly white teeth, your plump lips—everything about you seemed impossibly beautiful and unattainable.

Eren began to analyze your every move and word, searching for hidden meanings in the inflections of your voice and the expressions on your face. He was convinced that he could read the emotions behind your laughter and smiles, convinced that they were evidence of a mutual attraction.

It was on one such visit that he asked if you would like to go for a walk in a nearby park. As you strolled together, Eren could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Your breath grew ragged and quick, and he found it almost unbearable to contain his excitement. In a rare moment of boldness, you asked for his number, a shy smile crossing your lips.

Eren felt a rush of elation— the opportunity to take things to the next level with you was within his grasp. But with each text and call from you, his obsession only intensified. His mind spun out of control, trying to decipher the true meaning behind each message. Did you love him? Did you crave him like he did you? The uncertainty drove him to madness, causing him to fixate on every detail of your conversations until he could barely sleep or eat.

Eren knew that his obsession was not healthy, but he was powerless to stop it. He felt as though he were teetering on the edge of chaos, with every message and interaction sending him hurtling further into the abyss. In his lucid moments, he wondered if you could sense the darkness lurking within him, if you were repulsed by the intensity of his need for you. But even if you were, it only fueled his determination to make you his.

He would do whatever it took to win your heart, even if it meant sacrificing his own sanity in the process.

[rosesloveletters]

help me find my way back.

pc: x

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 1,912

Warnings: Nudity, depictions/mentions of anxiety and depression.

Summary: ‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’ // Reader and Wonka bathe together, while Reader reflects on their own difficulties as they fight to determine whether true love is strong enough to make them not give up on themself.

Author's Note: This story was born from a long walk taken on a cloudy autumn day. All I had were my thoughts and that was enough. I never would have anticipated I'd be writing for this character, but life works in mysterious ways. I am just pleased to be writing again. Enjoy.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You knew when it became real love. 

It started with a breath of fresh air you imagined taking, because you were so stifled there beneath the false canopy. You loved the sanctity of the factory, but just once would you have delighted in the feeling of warm sunlight sinking into your skin instead of the fluorescent lights recessed into the ceiling above your head. You missed having your head in the clouds instead of gazing up at artificial cirrus and synthetic cerulean blue. 

You could have left any time you liked, but that would have been too easy. Some dreams were worth chasing, even if it came with certain sacrifices. You could make do without a lungful of outside air, but you couldn’t take a chance on losing out on yourself. 

There was a time when you were the cause of the crushing weight on your chest; you would reclaim that time proudly, which coincidentally was the very heart of the problem. 

If the heart knew what it wanted, then yours must have lost its way a long time ago. Perhaps that was why you’d been experiencing palpitations lately. 

This would not be the first time your heart led you astray. 

Even so, you hoped that this time might be different. 

‘Could this be enough?’ you asked yourself. ‘Could he be enough?’

Your mind had been cloudy enough to make up for the lack of them in here. You felt trapped inside a mind and body that were not your own; you could not control your own brain and no longer could manipulate your thoughts. You hesitated when you spoke because your train of thought kept derailing. 

It wasn’t enough to keep trying to save someone who was already lost.

That was, until the echoes of him came to exist within your very pulse. His cornflower blue eyes – you’ve been pining for that same shade of blue sadness for far too long – were reminiscent of ones you laced within your own hair as a child. His literacy reignited your hunger for knowledge and how you used to devour each page of the books you loved. His sarcastic wit reminded you of how you’d painstakingly perfected the art of elocution and used it to your advantage time and again. 

He bridged the gap between your past and present and in the death of your disunity, you fell in love, both with him and with yourself. 

His presence in your life cut through the fog in your mind like headlights glistening through the haze. You still had miles to go, uncharted territory to map out, before you could lie down and rest comfortably within his arms, but even though you had a long way to travel, he’d take every step with you as if the journey were his own. 

Never would you cry yourself to sleep alone, feeling the weight of your misery pressing down on you rather than the warm body of your beloved. 

You had known love before and felt it, deep within the presently vacant cavity of your chest. You knew it existed and, yet it came and went, changing like the seasons, traveling like a storm. 

If love were meant to be that violent, then why was his embrace as warm as springtime sunshine? Why were his eyes clear blue like that of the sky after it rained? Why did his heart beat, not like thunder, but like undulating ripples of a quiet pond? 

He filled your mind with poetry and it came spilling out of you now. 

If you were to take the form of a golden leaf, nature’s waste discarded upon the ground, would your beauty be unique enough to make him pick you up and put you in his pocket? If you were a clump of moss growing steadily upon a concrete pillar, would you be able to feel the graze of his fingertips along your plush foliage? If the two of you were coffee rings left by two overflowing mugs staining the mahogany, would you overlap? 

It was no question as to what had changed to make you think this way again; as often as you’d tried to fill the void in your chest with someone else’s heart, he made you realize the one you must nurture first is your own. 

You would sink into yourself again, the same way you were about to sink into the bath you’d just run for you and Willy. 

You reached for the faucet and turned it, shutting the water off, and watched the last few drops cling to the cold steel, then fall into the bath. You reached out and let your fingers delicately graze the surface of the water as you tested the temperature. You were delighted by how easily calm waters turned rough; Willy would say you’re halfway to a metaphor there. 

Once you had deemed the water warm enough, you got off your knees and turned to face your lover as the bathroom door was opened. 

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him, turning around to meet your loving gaze. 

You both undressed in the comfortable silence of the small bathroom. The air was thick with steam and drops of condensation clustered on the mirror above the vanity. You had lit several candles which smelled of honey and warm sugar and placed them strategically throughout the room to aid your vision without an onslaught to the senses. 

With your clothing out of the way, you let Willy settle into the bath first. 

Your eyes raked over him in the low light accentuating the curves and supple accents of his body and you took in the way the water rose several inches when he sank down into it. He extended an arm to guide you into him once he was ready and you gingerly lifted one leg over the side of the bathtub, letting him take hold of you by the hand as you eased your way towards him. 

You lover’s warm hands were gentle as he helped you sit in the bath with him. 

When your back connected with his front, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure at both the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies. 

You both basked in the intimate glow permeating the darkened room and you felt the gravitational pull between your two forms. Your future was constellated, a string of stars wrapped around your hearts, connecting one with the other. 

You were uncertain whether you believed in soulmates, but if you were asked to put how you felt for him into words, you would have said that you were sure you were made of dust from the same star. 

“Are you comfortable, dear?” 

The sound of his voice overwhelmed you with emotion and you turned to look at him. You met his strikingly blue gaze and the first thing you thought was how much you missed him. 

You missed him, yet he was there with you. 

You could feel the warm press of his body against yours, much warmer than that of the water because you knew what you were feeling was him.  

It did not make sense to say that you missed him, but perhaps that tightness in your chest and the clenching fist around your heart and the tears that were burning the backs of your eyes were caused by the same culprit; it might be impossible to miss what was right in front of you, but you had somehow found a way, because it wasn’t Willy whom you had missed with all your heart – it was yourself.

You had lost yourself in the search for something better and you could have cried till you ran out of tears, screamed until you had no voice left. 

The processional of time had not been kind to your brain. You were riddled with anxieties you did not remember developing and those rotten, malevolent thoughts were taking up space where your lover used to be. His face was shrouded in mystery not of his own doing. 

You had taken him away from yourself before you’d been honored the pleasure of calling him yours. 

You couldn’t see the forest for the trees because you had let yourself grow complacent.

When you recessed into yourself too far, Willy coaxed you out again. He would help you return to the person you once were and find yourself again in this changed world. 

You nodded peacefully at his question, “yes. This feels lovely, thank you.” 

His only response came in the form of a gentle hum and you felt yourself sink into him at that, his body, your vessel, and his love, your anchor. 

Beneath the surface of the water, his arms encircled you, fingers linking together as he held you within the comfort of his embrace. He could sense that though you were quiet, your mind was loud and without hesitation, he began humming a tune. His melodious voice silenced your mind almost immediately and the only resounding thought inside your head was how lucky you were to experience a love like this one. 

Willy hummed the verses to ‘Pure Imagination’ while the two of you laid in the bath. Though you had heard him sing the words too many times to count, there was something different about it this time, like he was trying to communicate with you about something important but lacked the right words. 

Willy Wonka was in possession of one of the vastest vocabularies you’d come to know in the mo, so that wasn’t it, but in your weary heart, you knew what it was. 

You needed a reminder that your mind was a great tool, not just one that tormented you. 

And, if your own mind became too much for you, he would let you get lost within his for a while, where you would be free, if you truly wished to be. 

That was enough to send one tear tumbling down your cheek as you nestled into him, hoping he would not notice, but he did. His hold on you tightened and his chin now rested on the top of your head. Arms that had previously been locked around you parted and his hand found yours under the water. He held you tight, keeping you on the ground with him. 

‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’

There would be plenty of time to lose yourself in imagination. For now, your attention was his.

He continued to hum to you, held protectively in his arms until he could sense that you were calm. 

There were times when Willy questioned his own mind and the things it did to him, never quite understanding where the thoughts came from, which were dreams and which were nightmares. He had mistaken one for the other on more than one occasion and needed to be brought out of his racing mind. With you there to remind him of that, he was able to differentiate. 

If he could help you to better understand yourself, he would. He would travel the world over, do the impossible, think unthought of things and invent a way to return you to yourself if he could. 

But, above all else, Willy wanted you to know that he loved you, fiercely, passionately, completely. 

Perhaps this love would be enough to make you want to keep fighting to save yourself. 

[megamobilestylesposts]

Shine a Light on Winter Blues with Vitamin D

Your Guide to Beating Seasonal Depression

Hello lovely ladies!

Are you ready to say goodbye to the winter blues and hello to a brighter mood?

Well, you're in for a treat, because today we're diving into a topic that could be your secret weapon against seasonal depression: Vitamin D! 😊

The Seasonal Slump: Understanding Seasonal Depression

As the leaves change color and the days grow shorter, many of us experience a dip in our spirits. It's like nature itself is playing a trick on our happiness levels! Seasonal depression, also known as seasonal affective disorder (SAD), is more common than you might think. But don't worry, we've got a ray of sunshine to chase away those dark clouds!

What's the deal with vitamin D?

One of the main culprits behind the seasonal blues is decreased exposure to sunlight. You see, sunlight is like nature's own vitamin pill, and it helps our bodies produce vitamin D. When the sun takes a vacation during the winter months, our vitamin D levels can take a nosedive, which can leave us feeling down in the dumps.

The mood-boosting miracle: Vitamin D

Enter our mood-boosting superhero - Vitamin D! This incredible nutrient is not only good for our bones, but it's also a key player in regulating our mood. Studies have shown that people with lower levels of vitamin D are more prone to seasonal affective disorder. So it's like giving your body a dose of happiness when you need it most!

So how does vitamin D work its magic? Well, it helps regulate the production of serotonin, our feel-good neurotransmitter. So if you've got enough of this sunshine vitamin, you're more likely to have a spring in your step, even when it's chilly outside! 🌻

Sunlight, Serotonin, and You: The Connection

Now that we know the importance of vitamin D, let's take a closer look at how it affects our mood and mental well-being.

Sunlight: Your Natural Mood Booster

Sunlight is more than just a bright sky and warm rays; it's a natural mood booster! Your skin triggers the production of vitamin D in your body when it is exposed to sunlight. This, in turn, helps your brain release more serotonin. Think of serotonin as your body's happy hormone - it's responsible for feelings of joy and contentment. So more sunlight means more serotonin and a brighter, happier you!

Vitamin D: The Serotonin Helper

Vitamin D plays a crucial role in making sure your body has enough serotonin to keep your mood high. It aids in the conversion of tryptophan, an amino acid present in certain foods, into serotonin. So even when the sun isn't shining, you can still give your serotonin levels a boost by making sure you have enough vitamin D in your system.

Brighten Your Days with Vitamin D: Tips and Tricks

Now that we've uncovered the secret to beating seasonal affective disorder-vitamin D-it's time to explore how to effectively incorporate it into your life. Here are some practical tips to help you stay sunny all year round:

Sunshine Sessions: Try to spend some time outdoors, even during the winter months. A brisk walk in the daylight can do wonders for your mood and your Vitamin D levels.

Vitamin D-Rich Foods: Incorporate foods like fatty fish, fortified dairy products, and mushrooms into your diet. These are natural sources of Vitamin D that can keep you feeling fantastic.

Supplements: If you struggle to get enough Vitamin D through sunlight and food alone, consider talking to a healthcare professional about supplements. They can help you find the right dosage to keep your spirits high.

Mindful Self-Care: Don't forget the importance of self-care in combating Seasonal Depression. Engage in activities that bring you joy and relaxation, like a soothing bath, a good book, or a cozy night in with friends.

MOBILESTYLES: Your Beauty and Wellness Companion

At MOBILESTYLES, we understand the importance of looking and feeling your best, even when the winter blues try to get you down. Our Beauty on Demand services connect you with skilled beauty experts who can pamper you, boost your confidence, and help you shine, no matter the season. Whether it's a rejuvenating facial, a fresh haircut or a relaxing massage, our professionals bring the salon experience to your doorstep.

So don't let seasonal depression dim your sparkle! Embrace the power of vitamin D, indulge in self-care, and let MOBILESTYLES take care of your beauty and wellness needs. With us, you're just a few taps away from a happier, more radiant you! 🌟

Finally, ladies, remember that seasonal depression is a battle you can win with the right tools. Vitamin D, our sunshine vitamin, is a game changer when it comes to boosting your mood and maintaining your well-being. So let's soak up some sun, enjoy vitamin D-rich foods, and keep our spirits high all year long! 😘💖

[doctor360india]

10 Easy Approaches to Ease the Patients with Depression

Finding the company of an encouraging person near you to talk to when you’re feeling disheartened or depressed can help ease the symptoms a bit. There are no miraculous words and phrases in the dictionary that will help make anyone feel a lot better, and it can be difficult to understand what to say to someone who is enduring. In my view, avoiding the subject is the most detrimental approach. The particular idea breeds remorse within the sufferer and makes them feel like an outsider, which can end up pushing them out of the way.

Whenever anyone is known to you truly feel helpless, hopeless, and upset, it’s essential that they feel comforted, even though they can’t reveal exactly what the issue is. Knowing someone who deals with significant depression, take the time to ask them if they happen to be all right and say to them that you’re available for them. Eventually few simple and consoling words full of sympathy can make them feel significantly less alone.

Below are some valuable words of consolation to say to someone who is undergoing deep depression. This is in no way a whole list of what to say, but it’s just a few terms that may hopefully benefit them.

“I’m Always There For You”

Merely realizing someone is there when we require them can be an excellent relaxation. Many people with psychological health issues are hesitant to ask for assistance as they don’t prefer to trouble people with their complications. Expressing to a loved one that you’re certainly, there anytime they want to communicate is a beautiful set out to opening up lines of interaction.

“Want Some Space To Feel Comfortable”

Though it’s crucial to show assistance by showing your presence in someone’s life and ensure they are not isolating themselves, often some time alone can help to understand how they’re feeling or recharge their power packs. Offering to give someone space if they preferably need it can be a wise course of action.

“Simply Say You Love Them”

Feeling of solitude, aloofness, aggrieved and helpless may be horrific. You don’t always require the answer to their concerns simply because there is rarely a superb choice. Just expressing your love and care and by saying “I love you,” -let them realize they have your assistance regardless of what they’re under-going.

You’re A Fantastic Person”

A sense of guilt is a very common feeling with depression and can be a cause as well as a symptom. Generally, people feel like they are wrong because they are too sick and tired to go to work or attend a social occasion; however, this is not the truth. You wouldn’t assess someone for missing out on a gathering due to physical condition. Why then would you feel someone was an undesirable person for being psychologically unwell?

“Take Out The Time to Accomplish Your Daily Routine's Chores Easily”

Apparently, effortless chores can become frustrating for anyone in a profound depression or even an incredibly low mood. Everyday issues, like taking a shower or preparing food, may seem too much to cope with, particularly in the morning. Lots of people with significant depression feel their mood elevates towards the conclusion of the day, hence letting them extra time to do these responsibilities is a good approach.

“It’s Not Your Fault At All”

It’s typical for psychological health problems to seem easy to repair on the surface, but as we all know, it’s often a sophisticated issue that can take several years to unravel. Reminding the person that they can’t simply ‘snap away from it is essential; it’s pretty difficult to correct, and it’s not their mistake.

“You Don’t Have to Do Anything Making You Distressing”

Feeling burdened into something, like a social situation when you’re becoming despondent, can be tremendously upsetting. You may truly feel obliged to show up ecstatic, which can be extremely tough. Knowing these situations can be averted for the moment can help a person feel stress-free and allow them the time to concentrate on their wellness.

“Calm By Saying Everything is Going To Be Alright.”

This may sound effortless, but merely indicating to someone that every little thing will be acceptable can temporarily ease their state of mind. When people get cantankerous or disappointed, they often bounce to the ‘worst-case scenario.’ Delicately soothing them and reminding them what little measures can be taken to improve the condition can help.

“I Don’t Feel You’re Goofy.”

There is nevertheless a great deal of stigma around psychological wellness that victims often come to feel marginalized for possessing a problem. Feeling alone and different from others will undoubtedly aggravate the situation, so emphasize to your beloved that although their condition is genuine, it’s fixable and doesn’t make them in any way less of a person.

“You’re Not Anyone’s Burden and Equally Important.”

Individuals with depression frequently depend on relatives and buddies for many issues, like food preparation, cleaning, and shopping. Be clear that you’re pleased to help whenever you can. Ensuring they feel relaxed seeking and receiving help can drastically ease the burden of day-to-day life.

{Read More: Warm Bath- How it Might Help Beat Depression?}

[sugxrslushy]

Hey babe i just saw your post on the depressive episodes and i love it.

This shit happens to me almost all the time and it feels pretty awful honestly, the self hatred that comes after it's always the worst part.

The whole post brings me a lot of comfort so thank you for doing it, i'll save it where i know i can read it when i need it.

If it's not too much to ask, could i ask for it but with kid, doffy and marco? Lately i've been feeling pretty bad and i can't bring myself to do even the smallest thing, even the thought of going out of bed is too much and they're my fav idk it would be cute to know what they'd do in that situation.

Sorry if i bothered you, please take care 💕

Taking Care of An S/O In a Depressive Episode

➪ a/n: hello darling, don’t apologize you didn’t bother me in the slightest! I tried getting around to this as fast as I could to give you the comfort you need, I hope this helps. and it truly does suck, if you need to talk about anything my messages are always open don’t be afraid to reach out. take your time on feeling better and I hope it passes soon, you’re loved and deserve the absolute best hun <3 I’m so glad I can bring you some comfort

➪ includes: Kid, Doflamingo & Marco (w/ gn! reader)

➪ warnings: none, just comfort!

Eustass Kid

He’s not the best at first, he won’t catch on as quickly as anyone else might and he doesn tend to get grumpy with how quiet and reserved you’d become, spending hours in your room and skipping out on your duties

Killer does step in quickly, informing his captain that he might be better off asking you what’s wrong. Kid is very straightforward about it, demanding to know what’s wrong

He won’t admit it but you have worried him lately, he doesn’t like seeing you practically become a ghost of yourself. You’re the only person he’ll allow himself to be soft for, so he has to make sure you’re okay

Words fail him though, he doesn’t want to scare you off with his regular “rough” way of speaking

Instead he’ll respond through actions, pulling you into his lap to give you a warm hug and hold you close enough to hear his beating heart. It feels safe wrapped up in his arms

Trust me, if this man could fight your depression he wouldn’t even give it a second thought before doing it

Immediately, the others are notified to not bother you or face their captain’s wrath until you feel good enough to socialize and not be overwhelmed

If you ever feel bad about being “useless”, he’ll snap back telling you that you’re more important than any damn task on the ship and that you shouldn’t even think that way

He’ll bring you to join him in his workshop while he tinkers with random creations, he’ll talk about what he’s doing and doesn’t mind if you just prefer to watch without speaking

Donquixote Doflamingo

It doesn’t matter in the slightest bit how busy he may be, the minute he’s even the slightest bit concerned about you and your mental state he’ll push it all to the side just so he can take care of you

And no one has the guts to take it up with him that his work may be more important to you. His darling isn’t feeling well and you’ll have his full attention no matter what, say different and you'll regret it

His power and notoriety comes especially in handy, anything that you can even dream of needing during this is truly something you can have

All of his servants are willing to help at a moment's notice, so don’t feel pressured to do anything. Doflamingo wants to assure you that you should focus on feeling better and caring for yourself over worrying about anything you may have to do

Keeping you feeling healthy and refreshed is top priority, he’ll have you join in him in warm baths with only the best quality shampoos and soaps to make you feel clean and hopefully less stressed

It doesn’t matter the importance of the meeting, he’ll carry you around with him if he needs to. It’s good for you to get out of bed, and Doflamingo will stay by your side and let you curl up peacefully in his lap

Time to yourself is important to avoid being overwhelmed, he’ll send everyone away from your room so you can rest and nap on his chest

Whenever you seem sadder he’ll always have a compliment ready, telling you what a darling you are and how lucky he is to have in his life. Just how important and dear you are to his life

Marco the Phoenix

He notices, but doesn’t freak out about it. The last thing he needs is for you to feel bad about worrying him and he’d rather keep you from feeling bad about your current state

Marco is an easy person to open up to, his calm and laid back demeanor makes him all the more safe feeling to talk to about your feelings

Anyways, he’s a doctor. Making sure his patients are healthy is incredibly important to him and so much more important when it comes down to his s/o

Marco will give whatever advice you may need at the moment, along with sweet compliments and words of comfort to try and diminish any thoughts of self hatred that you may feel

Although you may prefer to stay in your room away from the others, he still brings you out with him. But there’s always a treat that comes with it to make sure you don’t completely dread it

Cuddles and kisses are always the best for it, he’ll let you cuddle into his side and share fluffy kisses whenever you accompany him away from your bed

He’s such an incredibly patient person throughout it, he’ll never pressure you about feeling better immediately, always reminding you to take your time

You’re met with kind praise whenever you make a step forward in feeling better, but even when you fall back he’ll tell you how wonderful you are for trying and tomorrow is always another day to try

He likes to read to you when you prefer to stay in bed, striking up small conversations between the story about whether you like it and how you feel about it

He takes up your tasks himself but will always ask if you’d like to try and join him in them, but he’ll never shame you if you don’t want to. He’ll just kiss your cheek and tell you to get some rest and feel better

[fangirl-imagines]

Lorenzo Anello’s Wife Having Depression HCs

A/N: Depression symptoms mentioned but these can be different for everyone. 

Honestly, it takes a while for him to notice.

He just works so much and he just assumes your tiredness and withdrawnness is because you’re tired from taking care of the house and C or that you’re annoyed with how much he’s been gone. 

He knows you get a little “down in the dumps” sometimes and deep down he knows how serious it can be but he sometimes plays it off because he has a hard time thinking about you being in pain. 

But after a few day he can’t ignore it and hope it’ll get better anymore. 

When he comes home from work one day and finds you still in bed he’s not angry or upset he just sighs tiredly and sets down his things before climbing into bed and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest. 

He kisses your cheek, neck, and shoulders gently, whispering, “Tell me what’s going on baby. Tell me how I can help.” 

If you need to talk he will lay there with you, stroking your hair and looking into your eyes as you talk about whatever is bothering you. 

Occasionally he’ll offer his own advice or comment on the situation or throw in an offer to help but he mostly just listens to whatever you need to say. 

If you don’t want to talk he will try to do something to help you feel better. 

He sends C to stay at your parents or the neighbors for the night so the two of you can have a little alone time and suggest the two of you take a hot bath together. 

He’s exhausted from a long day of work so a hot bath sounds pretty amazing to him as well. 

He’ll gently scoop you up out of the bed and carry you to the bath, sinking into the water with you in front of him and hugging you from behind. 

The two of you would help each other get washed up and occasionally stop to kiss each other’s warm skin. 

When the water gets cold you’d both get out and Lorenzo would wrap you both in warm towels and help you into your nightgown before you both climbed into bed. 

The warm bath and clean pajamas along with Lorenzo's affection helped you feel a bit better you had to admit. 

You were even starting to feel a little hungry after which was a relief to Lorenzo who had worried about how little you’d been eating. 

He’d go through the kitchen trying to find something for the two of you to snack on, neither of you feeling like making a meal at all. 

You were embarrassed by the messy state of the apartment that you hadn’t had the energy to clean, feeling guilt wash over you for how hard Lorenzo had been working to provide for you and C while you let the apartment get so messy. 

When Lorenzo came back over to the table with your snacks he saw the tears in your eyes his heart clenched. 

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter? I was gone two minutes?” He’d joke trying to lighten the mood as he brushed back your tears. 

When you told him you felt horrible about how bad you let things get he’d tell you not to worry and insist that over the weekend you and him could work on it together, one bit at a time, reassuring you that you were not in this alone.

He watched to make sure you were actually eating your food before going to change the sheets hoping the clean bedding might help you feel better. 

The two of you sleep cuddled up close that night, taking comfort in the sound of each other’s hearts beating reassuringly. 

He worries about leaving you the next morning when he has to go to work.

He hates leaving you alone when he knows you’re “not feeling yourself” as he’d say but he doesn’t have a choice. 

He kisses you extra long before he leave that morning and calls you on his lunch break just to hear your voice and check on you. 

He even brings you flowers when he gets home, a rare treat, hoping to see you smile at the them. 

Your depression may not go away over night but as long as it’s there Lorenzo will try to be supportive and help you through it. 

He was always going to be there to help you through the sad times just like the happy ones. 

[oops-aquarius]

tainted kisses

summary: steve needs some relaxation, which you provide to him

warnings: smut (!!!!), praise kink, slight degradation kink, a little bit of angst cuz a hoe is sad, oral fixation (duh), slight dom/sub dynamics (?), mentions of sadness/depression, tiny mommy kink (like barely there)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

note(s): not edited well at all, also i used a prompt generator to get the promt i used (which is below !!)

prompt: “baths or water (tubs or jacuzzis; hot springs; water houses or steam rooms; the ocean; swimming pools.”

kink: “Oral fixation or fetishization (lips, tongue, or whole mouth; french-kissing; licking; oral displays using food or beer bottles; smoking cigarettes, cigars, or pipes; biting or chewing one's lip(s))”

--

***this is post-endgame except nobody died, cause im a hoe for all of the avengers***

Steve never realized how much he liked things in his mouth. Not always in a sexual way, at least not until after fighting Thanos.

After fighting for so long, bottling up his emotions was not at all how Steve needed to cope. He tried the yoga and meditation route Wanda had so kindly suggested. Yeah, after one session of hot yoga, Steve decided that it wasn't going to happen. Tony, obviously, suggested sex. Said something about it being a “healing experience for the soul”. That’s bullshit were Steve’s first thoughts when that came out of his mouth. Bucky told him to get some goats and raved about how therapeutic it was to raise them. But Steve could barely take care of himself, how would he even take care of a goat? Steve felt a hot sense of hopelessness burn against the back of his eyes as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the adjoined bathroom door.

“Steve?” A soft knock came from the front door. He took his thumb away from his mouth, he had resorted to subconsciously nibbling on the tip of it. Pulling himself off the door and towards the voice, he rubbed his tear-stricken cheeks in attempts to clean himself up a bit before seeing you.

“One sec, Y/N/N.”

When he opened the door, your face softened a bit before the smile that Steve, secretly, loved so much dropped off your face completely. “Stevie, what happened?”

Stevie, a nickname he hated for his entire life. A name that reminded him of the days before the super solider serum where he was a little guy getting beaten up on the streets of Brooklyn. Stevie, a nickname he loved hearing from your caring voice. Nobody else’s. 

“Just tired, Y/N” he sighed, “so,so tired.”

“Stevie,” your voice caught at the back of your throat. Seeing him in so much pain made your life turn upside down. He doesn't deserve to be in pain. “ S’there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Just stay with me? Please?”

You took him back into his bed and sat with him, just talking about life until his breathing turned back to normal and he seemed partially-okay. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” you asked, still stroking the blonde strands of his hair.

“Are you saying I smell?” He took his face out of the crook of your shoulder, feigning a look of hurt.

“No, punk, I meant to relax. You seemed pretty shaken up and I just wanted to help. I mean, that’s what I do when I feel down, relax in a bat-”

He cuts you off, “I appreciate it. Really, Y/N, I don’t know many people that are as loving and caring as you, sweetheart.” The nickname made a pang in your heart. You had like the super solider since you had met him, but never felt like he reciprocated the feelings. Even though you both cuddled often, and had movie nights, and he always let you beat him while sparring, and that one time you came down with a stomach bug and he fed you soup and-holy shit. Did Steve like you? “Sweetheart?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘A bath does sound nice’. What’s got you so suddenly zoned out?” He says, donning a smirk.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get you into that bath, mister,” you had a faux grumpy look on your face as you got up and walked to the bathroom, starting to fill the white, ceramic bathtub with warm water. “Okay, big boy. You need help getting up or are you okay?”

Rolling his eyes at your inauthentic tone, Steve pushes his tensed frame off the body and managed to stumble into the bathroom, while you following him closely to make sure he doesn't fall over from exhaustion.

“I get it, I’m old, but damn Y/N. I can walk perfectly fine,” He chuckles as he pushes himself up to sit on the counter top.

You start to fill up the bathtub with warm water, adding bubbles and lighting a few scented candles. He looked so pretty, hair sticking out in every direction, lips pink and puffy from biting them, his ocean blue eyes still misty as he looks down at his cuticles, picking them slightly. 

“Okay, I’m gonna leave so you can take this bath,” you say, shutting off the faucet, “Got it?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Stevie.”

“Stay, please.” His eyes were watering more than earlier. He had those puppy dog eyes, lip quivering as his voice cracked and wavered even with just a few words. He looked so vulnerable, how could you say no to him?

“Of course, Steve. I mean, the bubbles with kind of cover everything. I’ll just sit next to the tub with you, alright?” You awkwardly giggled and scratched the back of your neck. He nodded, hopping off of the counter and starting to undress himself with a wobble. “Stevie, you’re shaking like a leaf, let me help you.”

His eyes never met yours as you helped him pull his t-shirt over his head and looped your delicate fingers through the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down his muscular thighs. “You’re not gonna finish your job, doll?”

His boxers. The only clothes he had left on were his grey boxers. You wanted to give him privacy and not look, especially in such a broken and vulnerable state. But god, you could see the outline of his partially-hard cock through the soft cotton. You thought about what it would be like to have your mouth around his hard length, chocking on it as he rammed himself into the back of your throat.

“Ummm, I just--I thought--I mean I can---Only if you want--” The dirty thoughts clouded your brain. It made speaking a speaking a sentence almost impossible as your mouth watered just thinking about his cock.

“It was a joke, sweetheart,” he laughed heartily, “You’re too adorable.”

Pulling his boxers down his legs, he waddled tiredly over to the tub before stepping in. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water encapsulating his exhausted body. You imagined that’s how he’d groan if you sucked his cock so hard he was seeing stars.

You were still facing the door, like you were as Steve got completely undressed. You knew if you turned around and look at him, naked and at ease, you’d jump his bones in a heartbeat. “Come sit with me, Y/N”

And you did. You turned around cautiously, like you expected, the bubbles covered his body enough for you to be able to handle yourself as you sat down next to the tub. You grabbed his hand away from his lips, running your soft fingers over his rough calloused ones. “I always see you biting your nails or cuticle or lips or your pens. Why?”

He sighed, “I’m not sure, I guess it just distracts me?” He said it more like it was a question rather than a statement. “I guess I don’t truly know why I do it, I guess I just enjoy having things in my mouth.”

You could read Steve like a book, his pupils blown with lust, his lip stuck between his teeth, a blush heating up his cheeks. You took a leap of faith.

“Yeah, like what?”

“You.”

His lips were on yours in a flurry, it took a second for you to react, but as soon as you did it felt amazing. Neither of you seemed to care about the water splashing over you as his hands trailed up your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

He pulls away panting, “F-Fuck, Y/N, I need you. Please. Oh my god I need you so bad,” His eyes looked as if they were welling up with tears and he looked so pretty still in the relaxing bubble bath, whimpering and whining for you. 

“God, I need you too, baby,” you stop to look in his eyes sincerely, “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do or that you will regret.” Your hand caresses his cheek.

“Just get in here with me and I’ll show you how much I want you,” he whispered, “Need you, really.”

You sighed before your hands moved shakily to take off your t shirt. As much as you wanted this, you were still scared of how the ripped super solider would feel about you and your body, As soon as your shirt was off, Steve was whimpering, dipping his hand into the soapy water to massage his aching cock. This only spurred you to take off your clothes and join him faster. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself, puppy?” Your stern voice caught him off-guard, making him pause his actions with a look of fear on his face. You step into the bathtub, straddling him. Your nails raked up his milky white thighs, trailing up his body admiring the beauty of it. “Y’Know I was planning on being nice to you because you’ve been so good to me, but you might need to be punished, baby? Do you need to punshied like a brat?”

He mewled, bowing his head in shame. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the second and you were starting to go crazy with the empty feeling inside of you that on he could fill. “No, ma’am. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“Mmmm, that’s my good boy.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested on his cheeks, hearing him preen at your praise, as you repositioned yourself over his cock. “Are you sure you want this?”

“If you dont ride me into next week right fucking now I’m going to scream, Y/N,” He breathed out with a chuckle, Grabbing your thighs, he helps you sink down on his cock. Both of you were moaning and whimpering messes by the time you were sitting at this base of him, trying to get adjusted to his large size. 

Hot tears burned at the back of his eyes as soon as you lifted yourself up off of him, only leaving the tip of him inside of you, and slamming back down on his dick. 

“Baby-please,” he whimpered, “n-need, shit, need your fingers, bad.” 

You were confused, slowing down a bit to make sure he was okay. But his puppy dog eyes showed that he was okay. Slowly taking your wrist from his cheek, he puts your fingers in his warm mouth. Moaning around them and swirling his tongue around them. He did it the same way you always dreamed about sucking his dick, chocking and gagging on his length.

“Yeah, you’re such a needy little slut for me, for this pussy. Look at you, so ruined and fucked out just because I’m fucking you.” He moaned sensually at your words making your core tighten impossibly. 

You had gotten a good idea as you were riding him. Slowly, you start to thrust your hand in and out of his mouth, watching the saliva dribble out of the corners of his mouth as he choked on you. The band in your tummy starts tightening as you feel yourself getting close. 

“Shit, fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. Oh my god, you’re make me come with your beautiful cock, puppy. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your free hand dips into the water, cupping his balls and rolling them around your soft palm.

He nods, choking on your nimble finger yet again his you massage his sensitive balls. “Gonna come,” he slurred and spit around you.\, “almost there.”

“I didn’t” you moaned as you feel his balls tighten, fall back down on his cock at a faster pace, “give you permission to do that. I thought you were going to be good for me?”

“I am” he spluttered loudly, “i am good, I swear. Just please let me come. I need it, oh shit, mommy.”

The name went straight to your core, making you grow weak as you feebly give him permission to come as you come undone with one more bounce on his large member. His hands come up to grope your breasts as he come with hot spurts inside of your tight cunt. 

“Oh my god,” you stifle a giggle as you stand up on shaky legs. You wordlessly helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a white towel, walking him to bed while you dried yourself off. Collapsing on the bed with a grunt, the solider hollds out his hand to you, signalling you to lay down with him. You could easily tell he was still coming down from his sex high, starting to regain his self back.

“I dont know what possessed me to,” he pauses, trying to figure out a way to word the rest of his sentence, “to suck, I guess, on your hand. I’m sorry, Y/N, that was really weird of me.”

“What do’ya mean, baby? Having an oral fixation isn’t something to be ashamed of.” The words make him smile with droopy eyes, tucking his head into your neck and starting to fall asleep, happy and comfortable, cuddling you.

“And to be honest, puppy. I think it’s really hot.”

[moony-artnstuff]

Commission @smol-wincheeseter

Note: @smol-wincheeseter Hi hun! Here is your commission. Sorry that I didn’t post it yesterday, my computer crashed☹ I tried to add as many elements as possible, hope you like it, and I hope you’re doing alright!

WARNING: Depression, suicidal thought, self-harm (although prevented) Please read carefully and stay safe!

“Lassie? Is everything alright?”

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the sound of a voice. As you blinked your eyes and became aware of your surroundings again, you noticed Bofur had placed his hand over yours, which were resting in your lap. You turned your head to look at the dwarf and were met with his concerned gaze.

“Bofur?” you asked confused.

“You suddenly stopped carving,” he explained, motioning to the half-finished wooden figure beside you, “and then when I looked up you were scratching your hands and clenching your teeth. Are ya doing okay?” For a moment you just blinked, still processing the words. Then you put up the smile you always wore, and answered,

“Yeah, I’m fine, I was just… distracted for a moment. Thinking about my own world, you know?” and you hoped he would believe you. Bofur simply gave you a sympathetic smile.

“If you ever feel the need to talk about it, or anything at all, I’m always here.” and he gave your hand a friendly squeeze before standing up.

“Now, if my nose isn’t betraying me, I’d say Bombur has finished cooking us dinner, let’s go see what he’s made us.” and he offered you his arm. As you took it you hoped the smile was still present on your face, as only the thought of food made you want to throw up. When the two of you arrived you sat down next to Fili and Kili, quickly joining them in their conversation. Laughter soon filled the air, as you started to crack jokes, making Fili clutch his stomach while his brother almost fell off the log you were sitting on. And then Bombur handed you your plate with food.

“Here you go, y/n!” he said cheerfully, a kind smile on his face, “We got lucky today. I’ve found some really good spices to make it taste extra good, I hope you enjoy it!” and his gaze almost seemed hopeful as he handed you your dinner. You assured him his cooking skills were most excellent, while trying to force down the nauseous feeling in your stomach. Even though it wasn’t a lot of food - the companies rations were scarce, and it was a matter of luck whether or not hunting would offer any food - but you could already feel the calories adding to your body, and it made you sick. Most of the evening you just played around with your food, listening to the talking around you, and every now and then putting a small bite into your mouth when a member of the company was looking your way, when all of the sudden you heard a strange sound next to you. As you turned your head you saw Bilbo trying to sneakily put some of his food on your plate. He abruptly stopped his movements when he noticed you looking at him, and he went beat-red.

“I- I um…”

“Bilbo? What are you doing?” You asked, wondering why that sweet little hobbit, who already had to deal with less meals than he was used to, was putting his food on your still almost full plate.

“Um.. I just- I didn’t mean…” he stammered, before taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I just thought that- you haven’t been eating a lot lately, and- and I’m worried about your health so I… I thought you could do with a little more food.” Bilbo had placed his plate back in his lap with his gaze fixed on his feet, hoping you were not mad at him.

“That’s very sweet of you, Bilbo” you swallowed, willing down the upcoming tears, “but you needn't worry about me, I’m just not that hungry.” You quickly stood up, flashing him a grin before continuing,

“I am rather tired however, so I’ll be heading off to bed now. Good night!” and before Bilbo could say another word you had turned around and made your way for your bedroll, even though you knew sleep wouldn’t come to you that night. You weren’t angry at Bilbo. You knew he only meant to do good, but you couldn’t stand eating the food, couldn’t even bear the thought of having to eat more of the food. As your head hit the pillow, dark thoughts started to consume your mind. How long would you have to go on like this?

*

As the night got darker more and more members of the company made their way to their bedrolls, until eventually only Dwalin and Fili - who were on nightwatch together - and Bofur remained. The latter sat on a big rock overlooking the valley below, smoking his pipe as he was lost in thought. He worried about you. A lot. He noticed you acted rather strange as of late, even though you seemed to try and hide it. At first Bofur figured it was simply the homesickness for your own world that made you seem detached from reality, and that, being as young as you were, it were the travel circumstances that made you seem so tense and exhausted at moments. But then his brother informed him that you started to eat less and less, and he heard from Fili and Kili that most nights you would barely sleep at all. And then there was your strange humming. Now, there was nothing wrong with humming of course, Bofur himself was always singing one kind of folk song or another, so it wasn’t the humming itself that was strange. No, it was what would happen after that. You would get up in the middle of the night and start to wander around, seemingly in trance until Ori had shaken you out of it, or when not even a few days ago, you had come back from bathing in the river, and had cut off all of your hair up until your ears. Bofur had worriedly asked you what happened, but you simply said you had wanted a change of style, and so he had reluctantly dropped the subject.

“You’re thinking about y/n too?” Fili’s voice startled Bofur out of his thoughts, and made him turn his head to look at the blond haired prince. 

“Aye, I am.” he sighed. 

“She’s been getting worse lately,” Fili continued, “I’m not sure what exactly is going on but, I- I fear she might be hurting herself, and she’s not reaching out for help, so I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ve been trying to keep an eye on her,” Dwalin spoke, who had joined them on Bofur’s other side, “been tryin’ to make sure the lass was eating and stayed in her bedroll, but I can’t stay awake all night.” and the warrior let out an audible sigh. Bofur fondly shaked his head at the warrior.

“Softy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” and the three dwarves let out a chuckle, but it was short-lived when they simultaneously realized; humming. They whipped their heads around to look at your bedroll, only to find you gone, and so was Fili’s knife. Then Dwalin saw a glimpse of your form disappearing into the forest, and he ran after you, Bofur and Kili hot on his heels.

*

You only faintly realized you were humming as you wandered into the forest, some distant kind of melody from the subconscious of your mind. You didn’t feel the sting of sharp rocks under your bare feet, or the cold wind chilling you to the bone. You just felt tired. Tired and numb. When you stopped walking you had arrived at a small clearing. As you let yourself sink to your knees you started to toy with Fili’s knife, looking at the runes and marking embedded in the blade. It wasn’t your intention to take it without asking, but it was the closest sharp object you could find. You didn’t like the sting of the blade on your skin, you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but you felt like such a burden to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. You deserved to be punished, didn’t you? You deserved to-

“STOP!”

A startled cry made you look up, and before you knew it someone removed the knife out of your reach and warmth enveloped your body as Fili wrapped his fur coat around you.

“What in Mahal’s name do you think yer doing lass?! Ya could’ve seriously injured yourself!” You recognized Dwalin’s voice. He sounded… almost concerned?

“Y/n… please, don’t do these things to yourself, we care too much for you to hurt yourself.” and it was as you met Bofur’s glassy eyes that tears started to form in yours. A broken sob left your throat as you tried to bury yourself further in Fili’s coat.

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m so sorry!” and you wept as three pairs of arms surrounded you in a hug, letting out all the hurt and anguish you had bottled up inside you. 

“It’s alright lassie,” Bofur choked, “you’re gonna be alright.”

*

Dwalin carried you back to camp as Bofur collected some extra tunics and some warm socks for you to put on. While they helped you get dressed, Fili went to quietly wake up Oìn, softly explaining what had happened. The old dwarf tended to your cuts; cleaning and bandaging them, making no comment except for the shake of his head. When he was finished, he took both of your hands in his, squeezing softly to make sure he had your full attention as he said,

“If you ever need me to patch you up after these kinds of things, don’t be afraid to ask. I will not judge or make any comments, as long as I get to make sure you get looked after.” then he patted your hands one more time, before making his way back to his bedroll.

After that Fili and Dwalin went back to their nightwatch, but not before Fili insisted you kept wearing his fur coat. “You need it more than I do”, he had said. As you looked their way, you noticed Dwalin glancing at you from time to time, as if to make sure you were still there.

“Lassie?” Bofur said, and you turned to meet his gaze.

“I just want you to know that it’s okay not to be okay sometimes. Life isn’t always gonna be great, sometimes it just sucks, and makes you believe you’re things that you're not, that you’re someone who doesn’t deserve to be here, and when that happens I want you to come to me. I want you to know that you are worth it, so much. And that you are loved, and cared for, and irreplaceable. So please…” and he took his hat off and plopped it onto yours,

“Keep on living, and I promise you, the sun will shine on you again.” and that’s when you knew. That’s when you knew that you deserve people to care for you, you deserve people to tend to your wounds, to tell you it’s gonna be okay, and people to hold you when life feels like drowning you. Fondly gazing at your bandaged wrists, with Fili’s coat around you, Dwalin’s watchful gaze and Bofur’s caring smile, you knew;

You are loved.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Hello! Since requests are open, may I request for Dazai & Chuya from bsd (separately) with a s/o who's hair is basically messed up, like knotted really really bad after months of not taking care of it because of depression. How would they handle it? Would they help her sort it out? How would they? I am so sorry if it's weird but I really need some sort of comfort. I understand if you feel uncomfortable writing this! Thanks in advance.

Hello Anon! This doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all, don’t worry :) I hope these can provide the comfort you’re searching for. I’m sorry if they’re not that good or if anything is wrong - Chuuya’s a bit more clear on what he’d be willing to do to help while Dazai’s I think you have to infer a little (I could be wrong, when it comes to your own writing these kinds of things can get confusing...[make sense?]) 

But anyway!! If you want anything more/changed etc. don’t be afraid to come back and ask! 

Warning(s): Depression themes

~~~

Dazai & Chuuya Helping a S/O w/ Knotted Hair Because of Being in Bed/Depression

Dazai Osamu

Immediately he could recognize what was going on, all too acquainted with the bells and whistles of depression himself.

And he gets it. He absolutely understands.

Dazai has most likely been in a near identical place that you are now, in bed and unable to do anything, including taking care of oneself.

In the beginning he let it slide, wanting to gauge what kind of moves you’d make in the coming days. Is this depressive episode a short one or a longer one? Will you pop back yourself or not?

Now though, that it’s come this far, so far that if he was to run his fingers through your locks like he’s done so many times before and loose hairs follow or knotted clumps can be pulled from the ends, Dazai knows this is the time he has to step in.

“My beautiful belladonna...” his voice is devoid of all the usual playfulness as he steps into your shared room, taking a seat at the side of the bed beside your lying form. Slowly he leans forward, placing a chaste kiss to your nose, absentmindedly twirling a strand of unknotted hair that’s separated from the rest. His eyes that could be described as hazel stare into your own orbs, a serious look in them.

“How long has it been?”

“Three weeks...” there was little to no hesitation when it came to answering, you knew full well what he was referring to. It still didn’t stop Dazai’s brows from furrowing though. A beat of silence passes, nothing but the sound of your mixed breathing in the room, before an idea comes forth.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He told you, standing and making his way into another room. When the sound of running water filled the quiet space you couldn’t help the confusion that came over you. What was he planning this time?

Minutes later and the water stopped and Dazai emerged through the open bathroom door.

Wordlessly he slipped his lanky arms under your knees and behind your back. About to question his actions, maybe even protest against them, all the words died in your throat the moment you saw his expression. It pleaded that you trust him this once, a warmth in them that tells you he’s trying to help and that he cares so much.

And you find yourself subtlety nodding, giving permission for him to lift you out of bed for perhaps the first time in awhile. Carrying you to the side of the tub Dazai set you down onto your feet. Lithe fingers started to work on taking your shirt off, movement slow and calculated, leaving the opportunity for you to stop him and do it yourself if you want.

You don’t, and Dazai continues until you’re bare. He gestures vaguely to the still water awaiting you and you dip your toes in it. It’s warm is the first thing you note as you lower the rest of your body, and it smells exactly like the bath salt that you gifted your boyfriend as a joke for his birthday.

Rolling his sleeves up, Dazai kneels to the ground, grabbing a bowl he’d placed nearby earlier and filled it. Tilting your head back, he covers your eyes as he pours the liquid onto your head, doing this a few times until your hair is thoroughly soaked before he starts to wash it. Finally, what he’s doing makes sense.

“’m sorry...” The apology is unprompted, but it just felt right in that moment. He has to help you, he should have to though... and you continue to stare blankly at the rippling water. Dazai hums, stops and hooks his forefinger under your chin, moving your gaze up to meet his.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for my love. You told me that it’s okay to ask for help sometimes, so let me help you like you’ve helped me in the past...” he whispered, voice soothing, “I love you my belladonna...”

He’s helping you, he’ll do things for you when you can’t - because he loves you that much... it’s okay to ask for his help...

“...I love you too, Osamu...”

Nakahara Chuuya

He saw that you weren’t acting like you usually do, but unfortunately, he didn’t connect the dots properly and figured you were just extremely tired. Maybe something happened at work?

Chuuya didn’t question it either, hoping that you’d come to him if something was bothering you... yet when you didn’t and he could visibly see the toll it was taking on you, his worry grew to the point he just couldn’t ignore it anymore. He figured that a good wash was a step in the right direction.

“Take a damn shower!” It sounds harsh, especially when his voice is just a little louder than the tone he usually uses with you, and he internally kicks himself for it, but under it lies raw emotion.

Fear, confusion. Chuuya doesn’t understand all that well what you’re going through and it hurts him to not know how he can help. But he also knows that what you’re feeling is far worse.

So, while you soak in the rain of the shower, the mafia executive calls up an old colleague. Dazai.

He’s reluctant at first, but the thought of reaching out to someone who’s a little more... experienced, someone that might have a piece of advice that could help, well, he’s willing to swallow the burning hate towards the other male just this once.

He’s grateful to hear the seriousness that drips in Dazai’s voice, and every word that the brunet says he mentally notes, taking it all to heart. After five minutes, Dazai has said all he could on the matter and the call ends.

Half an hour passes and you step out of the bathroom, fresh, warm clothes adoring your body, no doubt your boyfriend being the one who warmed them in the dryer and set them in the bathroom for you. Aimlessly you walked into the living room, the sight of Chuuya sitting crossed legged on the couch coming into view. The moment he sees you he stands, delicately latching onto your hand and pulling you back down onto his lap.

The thump of his heartbeat calms you somewhat, as well as the soothing strokes he does on your back.

Something Dazai said was that not everyone is willing to open up, even if they’re a loved one, and that you can’t always outright ask what’s going on either. As frustrating as it is for him, Chuuya remains silent, running his free hand through your still damp hair, fewer tangles than there was before you bathed.

Whether anything is revealed about your depression is completely up to you. Chuuya will listen to every syllable that leaves the lips he loves oh so much, or, if you don’t, he’ll simply continue to stroke your hair and rub your back, planting feather light kisses to your temple. 

What he does regardless of if you say something or not is that he’ll stay right by your side, supporting you however he can. He’ll talk to you if you’re up for it, cuddle you, give you some space if need be, shower or soak in the tub with you if it helps, you name it Chuuya will do it.

These things take time and he’s willing to put as much time aside for you as you need.

Anything for the person he cherishes most. 

“Never forget that I love you, alright? You’ll get through this ‘cause you’re strong, I know you are.”

~

Requests are open (as of me writing/posting this)! Make sure to check out the rules for the fandoms and characters I write for!

Masterlist (has rules/fandoms link there too)

[respect-the-fae]

Things that remind me of: Ares

Sorry it's been a few days, life has been kind of a bitch, but I'm back with a post for my patron, Ares! I love him so much! This is gonna be a long one, I'll warn you now.

Weaponry. All weaponry. Whether it be a sword, a bo staff, escrima sticks or even sharp words falling off a tongue and destroying what they are aimed at. All weapons of every nature are this and remind me of him.

Boxing. I box alot, it reminds me of him and helps me feel close to him. How warm I feel, the ache in my arms, the bruises that form across my hands, the sweat dripping down my forehead. It all feels like he's there guiding me, reminding me to keep my guard up, and to keep my thumb out of my fist so I don't shatter it.

Red candles.

Bloodied hands and bruises. The type you get when your sibling gets beat up by the bigger kids and you go to sort them out because as annoying as your little sibling is, no one (NO ONE) messes with them.

Pink gin. Trust me, pink gin might seem like a weird one, but I have seen my mate single handedly knock out 2 guys who were threatening a trans girl while on pink gin. Pink gin is the Elixir Of Protective Rage and no one can tell me otherwise. (Dw, the girl is safe and we walked her home. We got takeout on the way and i cried bc she gave me a chicken nugget. We're friends now.)

Hunger Games, Divergent, Maze Runner. All about destroying their awful governing systems and rising up. Very Ares.

Using dumbass as a term of affection. With the same amount of love that people usually use when calling someone sweetheart or darling.

BIG HERO 6.

The concept of egging someone's house.

Snakes.

Having long baths/showers to avoid dealing with your emotional issues. Idk, just screams him.

Loving your crush/lover/spouse so fucking much, genuinely wouldn't hesitate to kill for them if someone hurt them.

Courage, all types of courage. Speaking out about racism in a protest, leading a protest, telling your boss about the coworker that scares you and harassed you. Telling a teacher about your parents if they're abusive. Standing in front of a crowd and giving a speech. Attending rallies, going to Pride, telling your bigoted family to suck a dick when they're being rude about trans/coloured/gay people, posting that post you were debating to do or not, sending your script/novel/anthology/biography to your agent, selling your art. Loads more that my brain refuses to give me right now. They are all brave, courageous acts that Ares loves and is so proud of you for. He watches you swallow down the fear and he rewards you with that glow of good adrenaline afterwards. That's his way of sort of kissing you on the forehead and telling you he's proud.

Rescuing animals from shelters. Ares is definitely very passionate about Adopt Don't Shop.

The Enemies to Lovers trope in fanfic.

Comfort items. Items that make you feel put together and braver. Mine is my Angel (from Lilo and Stitch, the pink experiment, teddy bear I got to match the Stitch one my friend has), I barely ever let it go if I'm in the house.

Poppies.

Baseball bats. The game too, but mainly the bats.

Petty 'wars' with siblings or coworkers. Snatching lunches and snacks, leaving passive aggressive post it notes.

War. Conflict. Rage. Obviously. But also bravery. Courage. A thirst for justice.

Protection. Of all kinds.

Weighted blankets.

Podcasts. True crime, and fictional horror ones. The Magnus Archives reminds me of him, idk why. (FOR REAL THO, ITS SO FUCKING GOOD, GO LISTEN TO IT. I WOULD DIE FOR JON, ITS ON SPOTIFY.) (And YouTube too.)

Learning about your friend's special interests because they mentioned they don't feel able to talk about it for fear of annoying people. And damn if you're gonna let that happen, so you're up till 5am reading The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory so you can talk to them about it, and give them a safe space to info dump and share their thoughts and feelings.

Geese. Yes they are bastards. But they are feathery, beautiful bastards.

Saying "because fuck you, that's why."

The "WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE" vine.

"Thanks for checking in, I'm still a piece of g a r b a g e."

Self esteem issues. Bad mental health. PTSD, anxiety, depression, BPD, eating disorders. They're all battles, and he is with you through all of them. By your side, holding your hand, rubbing your back. He feels your pain and he is helping you move past it. He is there to remind you that spite is a perfectly fucking good reason to get better, because people suck and you will show all the people who hurt you that you will not break. That you will get up, every single fucking time. And he is with you for every single step. If you believe nothing else, believe that Ares loves you.

Getting back up. Never backing down.

Teenage rebellion. Wild hair. Hair dye. Breaking into parks at night, exploring abandoned buildings.

Bumps in people's noses where it's been broken and not set properly.

Donald Duck. That duck is ready to fight all the time and I love him.

The movie 'Red'. Its so amazing. (Also watch that, it's on Netflix, at least on the UK one).

WWE.

That's it, my Ares one. I think I rambled a bit but I am very tired so forgive me. Lemme know what you think!!

I love Ares so much, I probably wouldn't have made it to this point if I didn't have him. He is my patron and he protected me when I felt alone.

Next I'm doing Aphrodite!

[dreadfutures]

WIP Wednesday at BTV: @kita-lavellan | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @ellie-effie | @musetta3 | @jarakrisafis | @nivenor-krosis | @kittynomsdeplume | @inquisitoracorn | @ohhgren | @medlilove | @morganlefaye79 | @hollyand-writes

And @crackinglamb who also tagged me!

I’ve had a really awful week but I’ve been slowly chipping away at this very important conversation between Ixchel and Solas. And I’d actually appreciate thoughts on this. I’ll just listen to whatever anyone has to say. This is long though so I’m going to put it under the cut.

Question: Specifically, I'm trying to navigate this complicated cause/effect and question of autonomy and individuality in their relationship, which happens to hold the weight of the apocalypse over both their heads in different ways. It is important that they both can operate as they wish, without fearing they will misstep and drive the other away

Ixchel definitely is one of the reasons Solas ultimately confronts some of his stubbornness/willful blindness, as his friend and someone he respects--it’s the way she lives her life and the way she hopes and fights and the world she believes in that ultimately makes him see more paths available than his din’an’shiral. It's not that she loves him or he loves her.

And he's aware that because of so many complications and questions about her resurrection, that she constantly feels like it might indeed be her love--and lovability--that’s holding back the apocalypse. And their relationship will never be equal and truly healthy until she stops carrying that burden. Somehow she needs to learn to trust that he has made his decision and will continue to make decisions based off of himself, and not her.

But also at the same time, he loves her, and she loves him, and they do help each other with like, reinforcing each other's hope, and reminding each other what they're fighting for, that the fight is worth it, and when the other one is tired, being able to prop them up and help them keep going as equals. There are the shadows of her own anxieties and depression that aren't entirely based in reality, but there are also these fears that are so deeply founded in reality. idk.

The Excerpt:

Ixchel and Solas finished bathing and washed their clothes—smiling like the foolish da'lenala neither of them had ever had the luxury to be. She was full of wine and laughter, and she knew that there would only be more waiting back in the Hold.

But as they dried off in the warm evening sun and she thought about the celebration of Hakkon's rebirth, her mind strayed to the name the Spirits of the Basin had given her, and what she had done to earn it. The shock and gratitude she had felt upon hearing herself called 'God-Song' had faded some, and now the chill of anxiety returned to the pit of her stomach. She shivered despite the golden light that surrounded them, and she felt Solas's attention shift from the sky down to her again. He did not speak, but she felt the question in his eyes on her bare back. "Vhenan," she began in a low voice, "should I… The Spirits called to Mythal through me. Was it her power that they summoned with that song? Or my own? Or theirs?" His grip around her waist tightened. "Do not be afraid," he said, but of course that solidified the cold tendrils of anxiety into hard, heavy dread in her gut. "The Spirits here are older than many," Solas said haltingly, "but they are still young. They remember only echoes of…'elf songs,' they call them. The echoes by themselves have power, even if the subjects of the songs cannot hear. That is the power of a prayer, spoken where the Veil is thin." He took a deep breath, and after a moment of consideration he sat up beside her. He rested one arm across his knees and began to trace idle patterns across her cursed forearm with the other. "I do not think she heard you." She stared across at his tense jaw, though his eyes remained on the horizon. "We summoned Flemeth at Mythal's altar in the Arbor Wilds, with a song," she whispered. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you not have the Well of Sorrows in your company?" "Ah." She gave a shuddering laugh as something, not quite relief, swept through her. "That's true." Solas responded with a shallow nod, but then, for a moment, his chest seemed filled with words. She waited, but he did not speak them before sighing again. "What is it?" she asked, and bit her lip. Solas slipped his arm around her waist to shift her closer, and then he sought out the Anchor. He spread her palm open, and with deliberate slowness, he dipped the pads of his fingers into the shining tear of magic her skin. It was as though he might slip through her hand and into the Fade that way. A vicious shudder wracked her frame; the penetration itself felt strange and dull, like a cramp, and yet the magic in her hand came to life with a hot flare. She could see the spirals of his orb across her skin, as she often could if she examined her palm closely, but now she could see the green tendrils of green rift magic as they wound their way up her wrist and her forearm. To her horror, it was clear that the Anchor had embedded itself almost halfway up to her elbow. She could feel Solas draw upon it with his concentration, and yet the reaching veins of the Anchor did not retreat. The damage had been done. Her fingers had curled around his instinctively, until the bones in his hand seemed to creak in protest. "I will not let them have you," he said. The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. She did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. She stared down at their joined hands, eyes burning, which was likely a sign that she was too exhausted to handle these conversations. When she heard and saw the resolve in him, she should have been able to stifle the part of her that remembered how he spoke to her of the din'an'shiral he must walk alone. She should not have immediately been afraid that the calculation he had done in his head was about his loyalties. It should have been a settled matter, and yet, still, it was not. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow that part of her. "I am more concerned about what she might do with you, Solas," she said truthfully. "How did I end up with Old God's spent soul within me? How did he come to possess it, when Mythal had taken it? Was he moving to the beat of her drum—knowingly, or not?" She saw the slightest twitch of his ear and knew that she had touched on a raw topic there, too. But this was a better topic, and one that was just as important for her to know the answer to. "If I have enticed you from the path that she wanted you on… Should I not be afraid, to stand against Mythal?" He turned his head abruptly, and she met his piercing gray eyes dead-on. After a moment's consideration, he reached around her to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. And she knew immediately that he had heard, beneath this line of questioning, the doubt that still ate at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, but the look with which he pinned her was not soft, either. "My loyalty is to our People above all else," he said, to make her heart seize in her chest. He continued in a measured voice that was heavy with blood and wine. "In Wycome. In Halamshiral. In Serault, and Minrathous, in Skyhold, and across the Veil… If Mythal indeed remains, she would not keep me from such a duty. For all the fearsome tales of the Witch of the Wilds, I cannot believe the All-Mother, if she truly remains, would undercut that work." She gripped his hand ever tighter. "And you… You are not afraid of Mythal," he said, a bitter note coloring his words. "You are afraid of walking your path alone. You are afraid that you cannot hold the Dread Wolf at bay with the strength of your love. And you cannot. You have not." His breath was hot across her face as he drew closer—not to kiss her, of course not, but rather as though he might impress upon her the full weight of his words with the strength in his silver eyes. "You are the Champion of the People. You have sworn, and I have believed." He squeezed her hand back, to emphasize his point. "For as long as you hold true to your purpose, you are my Champion, 'ma'lath, 'ma'av'in. But as you insisted, you chose yourself first. You gave yourself a name, decided its meaning." He brushed her hair behind her ear and then settled his hand firmly at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair to hold her, ground her. He gave her the smallest shake. "Let me do the same." Ixchel swallowed. "Hope is a choice," she murmured. "Yes," he replied, "it is. So is trust." He kissed her gently then, and she tried to lose herself to it. The hand at the back of her neck slipped back to her ribs, to pull her close against his chest. She could feel his heart beat steadily beneath their skin, a steady, certain rhythm. She sighed into his mouth, and he hummed in response. "Ir abelas," she whispered as she broke away. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Do not be," he said, more gently than before. He raised their joined hands between them and traced the scar that ran down her chest, over her heart. "For all your stalwart strength, Ixchel, for all that you have reforged yourself from ruin, you cannot be blamed for fearing the one who shattered you. Especially when you have given him the very tools with which to shatter you again." Ixchel lost her breath as his words impacted her physically, and she opened her eyes to see that he had, too. For a moment, they were no longer silver—but rather they burned with the blue light of a god's power. That terrible gaze was focused on something deep within her chest…something that responded, and reflected his power back at him in painful resonance. "If there is one burden you can put down," he said, voice falling to a lilting whisper, "it is that you still carry the responsibility of the death of a world in your heart. Please… You must know it was not your failure." The magic in his eyes faded, and his lashes flicked up as he caught her staring at him. There were creases of grief at the corners of his eyes. "My mistakes will always be my own." The grief in his face might have seemed incongruent with the hard and heavy weight of his words, but she could feel how they hurt him as much as they hurt her. "I have told you that you have changed everything, but it was not your love for me, nor even my love for you, that has changed my course. It is the harm I have done to the world, the harm I know I might yet do, that stays my hand. Ane mala vasreëm." Perhaps it was the tears he saw well up in her eyes, or maybe it was simply his anxious mind trying to cut off any possible way he could hurt her more than he had already, but his own face was suddenly torn with pain and apology. "In saying this, I might seem to take away from your perceived victory—" "No," she said suddenly. "Solas, I do not need to believe it a war between us." She freed her hands from his so she could brush briefly at her eyes. "Thank you. I have only ever cared for your path as a friend... I love you, but--" she could not stem the flow of her tears, and she laughed at herself.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He obliged and held her tightly; warm, smooth skin pressed against her rough constellation of scars, and she was enveloped in his smell, his warmth, his magic. She knew that she was safe in his embrace. And she knew that he was right. Perhaps she could have thwarted the Dread Wolf's plans, had she not killed herself. But he had chosen his path, chosen to excise his heart and give it to her, and she had been right to think that to carry it—to redeem it, to return it—was a futile task. Solas had never betrayed her. He had never promised anything. Cole was right: Solas was only ever his own. It was Solas who had watched her walk her path. Solas had chosen to follow, open-eyed. And ultimately, it would be Solas who chose to stay. Life is a story written by two hands, after all.

[nuguflops]

is this wellness thing a scam? as tried and tested by me (v depressed person with migraines and dyslexia):

lamps that supposedly imitate sun and help people with jetlag and depression: not a scam (i got mine at tk maxx, it works fine but it's not a gamechanger. just don't use them if you are bipolar bc there's a chance of them triggering mania)

aroma diffusers: not a scam (i had one that doubles as humidifier and it was okay, it's just i have imparied smell so it was whatever for me)

journaling: requires effort that sometimes is hard to come by, not really a scam but it shouldn't be treated as a magic cure (but often is) and not everyone is good with words (which journaling can help improve but it's not guaranteed)

daily walks: as above, also if you hate being perceived .. yea

dry brushing: not a scam (especially if you are touch starved, it feels so nice. proper brushes arent expensive and there are easy to follow tutorials on yt by lymph nodes experts)

mood trackers: not a scam (easier than journaling because (at least i do it like that) you just colour a box / circle etc according to your mood. it's just hard to remember to do it everyday because backlogging kinda defeats the purpose)

memory foam pillows: not a scam (crazy but fixing your posture improves your overall quality of life... who would've thought)

l-tryptophan supplements: hard to say (bc the supplement industry is shady. i had decent results myself but if you are a sweaty person it might make it worse)

sheetmasking: not a scam (but can get $. i had a period in my life when i sheetmasked everyday... i wasnt more stable than i am now, when i do it 1-2 per week, 3 if im feeling crazy)

bath bombs: not a scam (remember to pee after bath and avoid bath bombs with glitter of unknown origin. also you need a bathtub and if you share a flat.. you have to scrub it Well before. and bathbombs are bit expensive ngl)

candles: idk im paranoid of starting a housefire

binaural beats: 50:50 (some like adhd focus ones work for me 100%, but the more subliminal ones are questionable..)

life coaching: 90% scam (i minored in it, trust me. if you have mental illness the coach will either ignore it to get your money or act as they should aka refer you to a mental health specialist. coaching is a thing for normies and majority of coaches don't have any credentials but a weekend course)

steam eye masks: not a scam (these are those eye masks that warm up and feel very relaxing. i like to use them after a long day, but they can too get expensive)

pillow sprays: not a scam (but get one that has natural fragrance (like this works sprays) because the more synthetic ones just... smell and don't work that well)

sleep trackers: not a scam (fit bands tend to have a built in tracker but it liza minelli lies, i used to do the same thing as with mood tracker aka colour a box according to how well i slept)

yoga: not a scam (just don't be a disrespectful white person ok i won't elaborate)

this is 100% my personal experience and i didnt list all my health concerns bc i enjoy privacy 💜

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

Banner credit

This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse.  Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent  world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 10 (Finale)

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚  IT’S TIME.

Hello! I would honestly really like to thank every one of you who’s read this and encouraged me during this long ride! It’s been a wild one and it’s been an honor to share this smutty smut fest to you all. I’m a little sad that it’s over, but hopefully after some time away from writing this fic I’ll come back and write one last bonus chapter. Because what’s my writing without boning a demon amirite?

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

  Pairing: Simeon x Reader Genre: Angst, fluff, smut Wordcount: 7,100 ish   Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut Summary: Accepting and confronting feelings come with the consequence of a fall.

Fall

You had fully intended to go home as usual after a session with Simeon. Even if the post coital cuddles were much desired and needed, he always kept business and personal relations separate. You knew better than to get too attached to the warmth and comfort of his embrace. It pained you to know he would always approach your relationship with a cool detachment and you expected things to be the same as usual this time as well.

The endorphins of such an intense session sedated the both of you, letting you fall into a comfortable doze for a bit. Simeon clung to you as he slept, rousing you from your slumber more than once as his arms wrapped around you tighter. He whimpered from time to time, twitching and clutching you tighter as if you could drive away whatever bad dreams he had. It was strange to see him so possessive, not that you minded. Even if it was only when he slept, he was at least comfortable enough around you to let down his guard a little bit. By the time you needed to leave and catch the last train home, his limbs were tangled with yours and there was no way to move without waking him up.

“Simeon, I have to go…” You protested, trying to pry yourself from him.

He groaned and only pressed himself against you more in his half-asleep state. “No.” He whined.  “Stay the night, please. I don’t want to be alone.” His voice was surprisingly quiet and it cracked at the end of his plea.

Your heart skipped a beat at his sudden confession and any desire you had to leave immediately disappeared. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.” You reassured, patting his arm and his hold on you relaxed just a bit.

Simeon sighed in content and took in your scent when you agreed to stay. His breathing stuttered for a moment as he savored your warmth next to his own. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he allowed himself the chance to indulge in a show of affection. Normally, he would have brought up his walls and politely seen you off. Yet, something prevented him from doing that right away this time. Likely, it had to do with the burning feeling that settled in his chest earlier when he saw you being fucked by Lucifer. The image and the feeling refused to go away, causing him to be needier than usual.  

He couldn’t go back to the way things were before when he was simply asking you to do things for the sake of his book. It was impossible to deny that he had budding feelings he needed to confront. The consequences of being too deeply involved in the human realm laid heavily on his shoulders and he didn’t want to think about them when he had you in his arms. He need to recenter himself and stay rational while he tried to figure out a way to reclaim who he was before this all happened. To do that, his feelings had to be carefully locked away. Wearily, he brought up the walls around his heart once more even though your close proximity threatened to tear them down at any moment.

You turned over to look at him and noticed he still had the collar on. Carefully, you helped him out of it. Unbuckling the ornate clasp was surprisingly harder than you anticipated, especially since you didn’t want to hurt Simeon. When it was finally pulled away and thrown to the side, it was hard to not notice how he skin of his neck had been rubbed raw from receiving such rough treatment throughout the night. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, tentatively tracing the tender skin and he winced at the touch.

“Don’t be. I’m alright. I promise.”  He reassured, but there was no conviction behind his words. He pulled away from you, ignoring the throbbing around his neck from where the collar had sat for so long.

You decided to leave the issue for the time being. Simeon wasn’t a stranger to harming himself, the long scars on his back was proof of that. Why he thought such self punishments were necessary were beyond your comprehension and you couldn’t begin to think about how to comfort him whenever this habit of his came up. You only had a few canned, rehearsed words that everyone had been taught to say and countless empty promises that you could never keep. You wanted to believe he would reach out for help if he needed it; however, if you knew anything about Simeon, it was that he would never say what he wanted.

“Shall I draw you a bath?” he asked quietly after a long lull of silence. He was staring at a point just past your head, in a daze and not quite focused as he normally was. As if he noticed how zoned out he was, he blinked and made proper eye contact with you. “I’m sure you’re tired, and it’ll give me a chance to change the sheets so you don’t have to keep sleeping on the mess I made.” He smiled softly, already in the middle of getting out of bed to start running the water.

There they were again. Those walls you worked so hard break through had been rebuilt in the short time you had been nodding off in his arms. When you weren’t fully focused on him, he was pushing you gently to the side, distancing himself and the cool detachment was more than a little depressing for you. It felt like with every time you got him to open up, the more he closed off his feelings. You thought you had gotten somewhere when he asked you to stay, but it seemed to be a temporary lapse.

He beckoned you to the bathroom shortly after, the tub was already half full and you could smell the jasmine oil he had put in there to help ease the aches and pains away. If anything, you thought he deserved a bath more than you did, but he was adamant about attending to your needs first and foremost. “Please take as much time here as you’d like. I’ll get a robe for you in a bit.” He turned to take his leave but you stopped him, holding onto his hand and tugging him closer.

“Won’t you stay? You need to get cleaned up too, don’t you?”

He smiled, though the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. “Unfortunately, the tub is not large enough for two.” He reasoned.

Before you could further insist that he stay by your side, he was already through the door and off to change the sheets like he said he would.

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to get anywhere else with him for the night and slipped into the bath. The hot water did wonders to your sore muscles. Whatever he put into it only aided in relaxing you to a point where you were quickly dozing off in the bath. Your mind was much more active than your body, replaying all the events that lead up to this moment. From the first hesitant time in that sunroom all the way to the moment he surrendered his body to you, your relationship and your feelings for him had only deepened.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you mulled over the discussion you had with him so long ago, going through the things he was comfortable with doing and what he absolutely refused to do. Somewhere along the line, you had pushed aside his boundaries in pursuit of getting what you wanted out of your agreement. You ended up assuming that he desired you the same way you desired him. Upon this realization, it was no longer a wonder why you were being politely pushed away.

You lost track of how long you had been in the tub. Your disheartening thoughts pulled you down a deep rabbit hole where you analyzed every moment you shared, wondering where you had gone wrong and when you had become so inconsiderate. Your mind ran in circles while your body slowly shut down from exhaustion.

Simeon thought you died in the tub when he found you. Your torso was practically hanging out the side of the tub and you didn’t respond when he called your name the first time. To say he was relieved when he saw you twitch slightly after he called you again would have been an understatement. He sighed softly, setting the robe he brought in to the side and gently propped you up. “Come now, Little Lamb. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep like that.” He chided.

You blinked, clearing your bleary vision and grumbled at him, brushing his hands away. “Just a few more minutes.” You whined.

“The water is no longer warm, you’ll get sick if you stay in here any longer.” He was insistent, half dragging you out of the tepid water much to your dismay.

Simeon wrapped you in the largest towel he had, smiling softly the whole time you were turned away from him. The fluffy bath sheet smelled of lavender and something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was a familiar scent. You clearly did not seem to be in any state to properly care for yourself and he took it upon himself to properly dry you off. It wasn’t often he got to dote on you in the way he wished, and it seemed the only time he would get the chance was when you were barely conscious after being fucked out of your mind.

Seeing you barely able to stay on your feet, Simeon almost carried you back to bed. Stay distant. Do not meddle any further. Though he knew he was likely too far gone to return to the Celestial realm with any sort of good grace, he childishly thought it might not be too late to rectify his wrongs.

He took you by your hand, lead you back to bed and tucked you in. It took no time at all for you to fall asleep on the newly changed sheets. You hogged a majority of his pillows and the blankets, but he didn’t mind. Only when he was sure you were soundly asleep did he allow himself the chance to shower off the worst of the fluids which had caked themselves onto his skin. As he watched the water swirl down the drain, he wonder if he really stood a chance against Lucifer’s wiles and seduction. He couldn’t get the image of you being taken by another man out of his head no matter how hard he distracted from himself.

That dull, burning feeling spread across his chest once again. The ache of yearning for something he could never have consumed his being. And as the conflicting emotions warred within him, he sank into the corner of the shower, letting the water pelt at him until it ran cold. Even then, he didn’t feel like he he had the energy to drag himself out of the shower. The moment he left, he knew that he would need to decide between his devotion to you or to the…

~~

Gods were known to be all benevolent. He had experienced and executed the outcome of such goodness to many before. He thought, perhaps the gods would remember his good deeds and forgive his few misgivings in the human realm. After he finally pulled himself off the chilled floor of the shower and got dressed, he reached for the rosary tucked in the back corner of his night stand and knelt in reverence to the Heavenly bodies above.  

For the first time in a very long time, Simeon prayed before going to sleep. He pleaded for forgiveness and mercy. He prayed for a sign to save him from his inevitable fate somehow. Kneeling on the hard floor, he hoped his words could invoke the infinite benevolence of the Celestial realm to save his soul. He recited prayer after prayer, hoping that those above could excuse his lapses of judgment in his assignment to observe and understand humans. He was wrong, he had known that since the first time asked for your help. He had been so naive and confident, he had somehow lost his way.

Simeon had been so sure he could have anticipated the moment of his fall. He could have sworn all he had to do was abstain from defiling you. In his prayers, he apologized for being so simple minded, he confessed to the countless sins he committed onto your body without having tainted you. He had foolishly trusted himself too much and ended up falling for you in a way that was equally taboo.

Love.

He omitted his feelings from his prayers. If the other angels were watching, surely they would already know the truth behind his actions. It was all rooted in an intoxicating addiction to the temptation that was you. Outside of all the lewd acts, he adored you, cherished you and deeply wished he could give you the world on a platter if only he was allowed the chance to.

Yet his pride stood in the way. His stubborn need to cling onto what the Celestial realm deemed as divine kept him from sacrificing everything. Simeon hoped that his prayers would be heard as he implored the powers that be for forgiveness. If he received an answer, he could turn back. There was still time. His knees ached as he recited prayer after prayer. He hummed hymns and sang praises in a futile attempt to curry favor in his direction once more. He stayed in the corner of his room until the pain of kneeling became too much.

Ha, I must be getting old. I used to be able to do this all day...

He shouldn’t have been surprised when there was no reply from the heavens. It seemed that he was already beyond salvation in their eyes.  

If he had been a stronger man, he would have practiced decorum and slept in a separate room, or at least on the floor that night. However, Simeon was weak; weaker than he had ever thought he could be. His muscles and joints felt like they creaked when he finally got up and made his way to bed.

He was careful not to rouse you when he crawled feebly under the sheets and laid next to you. He could hear your deep breathing and the light snore coming from you as you slept soundly. Curling his body behind your own and wrapping his arms around you felt so right. Whatever resolve he had for keeping human temptations at bay dissolved as soon as you were in his arms and his own breathing evened out. The gods above had forsaken him, there was nothing left but to embrace the beautiful dreams that came whenever he was with you.

He would see you off in the morning, tell you how much he appreciated you and how much fun he had the night before. In a rare show of affection, he kissed your cheek and hugged you tightly before you set off for the day. He kept everything cordial and guarded his feelings close to his chest while you were still around him. As soon as you said your farewells and walked through his door, he felt his whole world fade into a grainy shade of gray. With every step you took, the color evaporated from his vision until there was nothing left but a dull monochrome.

Alas, it seemed the most disgraceful thing to the gods was the feeling of…

~~

Falling in love with Simeon was not something you expected when you first met him. Your intial impression when you first met him was that he did not fit your mental image of an author. You had expected someone much mousier and less refined. That first meeting changed your life. Not only did it begin your career, but it also planted a seed of affection deep in your heart for a soft spoken, eloquent, beautiful person. Pushing your feelings to the side had been easy enough in the beginning, you could pretend your infatuation was because of how star struck you were to work for the Christopher Peugeot.

Of course, you were young and naive to have thought those emotions would go away with time. Those budding feelings only took root and spread into what they were today. You were obsessed and hopelessly in love with a man who would never open up to you.

In the following days after you left, Simeon continued to distance himself. You didn’t blame him. You had a fair amount of thinking to do on your own. Life carried on as normal, or as normally as it could when there wasn’t a book being written. Simeon had requested a well deserved break from writing in order to brainstorm his next bestseller. There was the obligatory call that you had to make at the beginning of his break to ensure he would have something to present once his little vacation was over; but outside of that, you left him alone. It was likely for the best. Your one way infatuation with him had become an unhealthy obsession as of late and the distance would allow for you to properly sort your thoughts out.

You picked through a few freelance offers to edit short stories during the lull in your main work. It was boring and tedious, but it kept food on the table and your bills were paid on time. The shorter length and the sporadic nature of such work meant you had much more time to dwell on your thoughts. Without any outside influences like a nosy bartender or an overly familiar CEO, it was easier to sort out your feelings for Simeon and figure out how you wanted to proceed the next time you had a chance to meet him privately.

The fact that he still most likely had that chastity cage on his cock was not lost to you. Every time you thought about it, a pang of guilt ripped through your chest. You had done a fair number of things to push his boundaries and you couldn’t blame him if he hated you. There was a hollowness in his voice when he saw you off that rang in your head. You always thought his eyes had a bright life and joy to them, but if you thought too much about that day, you could recall how dull and dark they were even when he smiled.

You hated to think that you could be the reason why he was like that.

You wanted to contact him and maybe discuss things between the two of you, preferably without Lucifer. Your feelings and infatuation was with Simeon and no one else. After days of contemplating the events of your last session, you came to the conclusion that whether or not Simeon would fuck you was a negligible aspect of your relationship with him. You needed to stop pushing him and let him come to you when he was ready. Sure, it was frustrating when he didn’t express his needs, but you never considered that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t comfortable enough around you to do so.

He trusted his body to you. Upon reflection, it felt like you had taken everything he gave you for granted. The importance of his actions and words were all disregarded in favor of what you wanted. The guilt of such neglect ate at you from the inside. Now, the least you could do in repentance was respect his wishes and his need for space. You had expected him to reach out to you once his break started, but it had been a dead radio silence ever since he announced it. You worried about his well being constantly, checking your phone as soon as you woke and right before you went to bed for any messages. You caught yourself mindlessly refreshing your phone for hours on end, hoping that he would be the first to contact you.

Nothing.

Then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised when there was no reply to your wordless prayers.

The pain of distance you experienced now was a necessity. You needed to accept that and practice patience if you wanted to have another chance to make things right. The heartache from being so far apart for so long ate away at your soul, but you knew it was something that you deserved it. Day by day, as you continued to wait patiently, the color in your world drained away into a grainy shade of…

~~

Grey skies were common at the end of winter. They fit well with his outlook on life these days. Simeon walked a lot, now. He let his feet wander and take him to no goal in particular. It was an odd sort of meditation in a way and it let him clear his mind in a way that his home could no longer do. Every surface and corner of his abode reminded him of you. Getting out and breathing in the crisp, cold air cleansed his mind and his lungs.

He’d wander until he couldn’t feel his legs or his nose. At first, the cold winds whipped and cut his skin, making his lips crack and bleed if he spent too much time out. However, he got used to it quickly. The mixture of pain and peace brought him a calm that couldn’t be achieved elsewhere. He loved the soft quiet that came with snow. It muffled the sounds of the city as well as the sounds of his heart beating. The peaceful atmosphere soothed the frazzled edges of his mind and amplified the hollow feeling of loneliness in his chest.

Simeon didn’t take a heavy coat with him whenever he went out. A sweater was sufficient for his needs. He may or may not have received odd stares, but he couldn’t be bothered. None of those people mattered to him anyway. He only sought the approval of two beings and one of them had turned their back on him when he begged for a bit of forgiveness.

Winter was letting up slowly, giving way to chilly rains which soaked him to the bone whenever he took one of his long walks. He usually didn’t mind it, but when the rain became a downpour, he had no choice but to seek shelter somewhere until the worst of the storm was over. Looking at his surroundings, he could have laughed when he saw his feet had somehow taken him all the way to your neighborhood.

He had maybe visited you a handful of times since he first met you. It wasn’t often he got a chance to go see you considering your work revolved around him. He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice and hold you. That desire was enough to make him take a step towards your door. As he got closer, he could hear a part of him tell him to turn away before he fell any deeper for you.

Unfortunately for that rational part of him, falling didn’t scare him anymore. With the Celestial Realm averting its gaze from him, he was free to accept the darkness that he willingly cultivated within himself. If anything, it meant he was allowed to feel something besides emptiness. He didn’t deserve the chance to see you again, but it did nothing to stop the desires

Simeon was knocking on your door before he realized what he was doing. His body seemed to move on its own when it knew you were close. You drew him towards you like a moth to a flame and he would be forever entranced by you. As your door opened, a gust of warm air washed over his body and the gray world around him shattered into a thousand brightly colored pieces. “I… I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where else to go.”

His voice sounded foreign to him, the most familiar thing he knew was your soft expression as you lead him indoors away from the cold.

“You’re lucky I was in the middle of getting a bath ready.”  you said as you hurriedly shuffled his soaked frame to the bathroom once his shoes were off. An inviting tub full of steaming hot water was waiting for him when you finally got him through the door of your bath room. He took a deep breath and the scent of sandalwood and oranges filled his lungs. He recognized it as the scent that always lingered on your clothes over your perfume. Just having his senses filled with something that reminded him of you warmed him much more than the balmy temperature of the bathroom.

“I think I have something that might fit you, if not I definitely have a robe.” you mumbled to yourself, already pulling out a spare towel out of a nearby cabinet for him. “Just leave the wet clothes on the floor, I’ll throw them in the wash for you when you’re done.”

You scurried off to dig through your closet in search for spare clothes, leaving him to him to his own devices. Simeon sighed, smiling for the first time in what felt like weeks. Finally seeing you in person, he needed to accept just how much he missed you and just how whenever you were around, his world was…

~~

Colorful clothes of all sorts were strewn across your bedroom floor as you tried to find that over-sized sweater you swore you saw just the other day. You didn’t want Simeon to wear just a robe, the one you owned was likely too small for him, but it looked like you wouldn’t have a choice in that matter considering you didn’t think anything else you owned would fit him.

He had appeared at your door like the answer to your prayers. You were getting antsy from the dead air between the two of you and it had been shaping up to be another day of listlessly staring at your phone while you waited for a message. With the storm brewing outside, you had fancied a nice long bath to combat both the cold and the dreary weather. Just as you were ready to hop in, you heard the knocking at your door.

Seeing Simeon so drenched and pitiful broke your heart. It didn’t matter why, or how he had arrived at your abode, you immediately dragged him to the bath as soon as you could. He clearly needed it more than you. It also meant he deserved much better than a too small robe to wrap himself in after he was done soaking. Unfortunately, it seemed like there would be no other options considering you couldn’t find that damn sweater you were thinking about.

Tiptoeing back to the bathroom, you knocked softly before cracking the door open. “Hey, I found a robe, it… just might not fit you, sorry about that.” you apologized, feeling like a terrible host. You stuck your hand through the crack and laid the robe on the sink, ready to slink away and let him have his space. Even if you wanted to be near him, you needed to remind yourself that he would approach you when he was ready, you couldn’t rush or push him more than you already had.

You grew concerned though when he didn’t respond to your intrusion. Curiosity got the better of you and you pushed the door open a bit more to see if he was alright. The sight you were greeted with was not what you expected, to say the least.

Simeon sat in the tub, staring blankly at the tiles in front of him. He looked like he was in a daze, barely aware of his surroundings. Most concerning of all was the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to take his clothes off. He was still wearing the rain drenched sweater and faded jeans he arrived in.

“Simeon?” You called out to him, quietly padding closer to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. He turned sluggishly and gave you the barest nod. The bright blues of his eyes was so dull and dark, you worried he had somehow gotten sick in the short time you had left him on his own.

Kneeling down next to the tub, you peeled off the sodden sweater off his torso, tossing the thing into the sink before looking down at his jeans. He didn’t say anything to you as you went through the clinical actions of stripping him for the sake of his comfort. Your hand brushed against the metal bindings around his cock and he let out a hiss, the first indication that he was really aware of what was going on around him.

“Simeon, are you--”

“I’m fine.” he cut in. “I’m fine.”

There was no conviction in his voice as he tried to reassure you. He repeated those words over and over again as if they were a mantra, mumbling them under his breath. “I’m fine...”

His voice cracked when he looked at you, unshed tears being barely held back. No matter how much he told himself that the Heavens didn’t care and all he had to do was just accept the fall, he couldn’t shake off the fear of the consequences. There you were, inches away from him, calling for him as if you could hear his desperate prayers for salvation.

If the Heavenly Father would no longer listen, he at least had you. With you, any consequence was bearable.

“I’m fine. As long as I’m with you...” He whispered, pulling you closer to him for a slow, tender kiss.

When his lips met yours, a warmth blossomed throughout him. The hollow ache in his chest was immediately filled with a pleasant fluttering that spread through his limbs. Your unique aroma overpowered the perfume of sandalwood and oranges in the water. The cloying combination made him dizzy and drunk with his affection for you. The smell would forever be connected to the last temptation that made an angel fall.

His cradled the back of your head as he kissed you like it was the first time. The taste of your lips was sweeter than the ripened celestial peaches that immortals coveted so much. He breathed out slowly through his nose before taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of love and his impending fall from grace.

You moaned softly against his lips, gasping for breath from how tender yet passionate it had all been. He took that moment to swipe his tongue across your lower lip before delving into the caverns of your mouth and deepening the kiss even further. The sounds Lucifer elicited from you would be nothing compared to the songs he would get you to sing under his touch.

When he finally broke the kiss on his own terms, your lips were swollen and glistened with his saliva. The light in his eyes had returned and you noticed the familiar hard glitter of desire in them. He pulled you into a tight embrace, half dragging you into the tub with him to kiss the rest of your face and whatever skin he could get access to. You squealed in surprise, stumbling to keep your balance and pressed yourself against him. His breath was hot against your ear as he continued to press his lips everywhere he could. “I… I want you… Will you have me?”

You could barely believe what you heard. You wanted to pull away and look at him properly, but his embrace was strong and held firm. The kisses he laid on your skin traveled down your neck and you held back a shudder when he brushed across a sensitive spot. “I… is this what you want?”

“More than anything.”

He let you have a bit of distance so you could look at sincerity in his expression. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice and the glitter of desire in his eyes had changed into a bright flame of lust. There was no way you could deny such a request. You had been waiting for him to say those words for so long. The weight of guilt on your chest crumbled away and there was nothing but elation left. All the anxiety, all the waiting, all of the trials and tribulations was so worth it for the moment he earnestly asked to be with you.

“Then you shall have me.”

The smile that spread across his lips was surely divine. No one should be allowed to be as beautiful as he was. Simeon could barely believe you had agreed. He knew he didn’t deserve you; but now, he had all the time in the world to persuade you otherwise. Heavens be damned, he loved you and he had the freedom to show you exactly what that meant to him.

Removing your partially wet clothes felt like unwrapping the best present in the world. He felt like he was truly seeing you for the first time. He memorized every detail of your body with his lips, followed by his fingers. Your soft, breathy moans would be emblazoned in his mind for the rest of his life as the most holy of hymns.

He was loathed to be separated from you for any amount of time; but your knees were beginning to ache from kneeling, your position was less than ideal, and the tub was much too small to fit both of you. Begrudgingly, he let you go, only to usher you to your room with a gently wave of his hand.

“Just a moment, Little Lamb. I will follow shortly.” He reassured, his voice syrupy and low. The promises that it held sent a shiver down your spine. You hurried to the room as he directed, eagerly divesting the rest of your clothes as soon as you got the chance to.

He arrived in your room shortly after as he promised. The robe you had given had been unnecessary as he opted to have a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Even then, that was about to be a frivolous exercise in modesty as he tossed it to the side the moment he saw that you were also nude. In the dim light of your room, the metal cage he so obediently wore glimmered and the familiar feeling of guilt rushed through you.

You beckoned him over to you and you swore he purposefully put a little extra sway in his hips as he approached you. The bed dipped with his added weight and you immediately pulled him into another round of slow, sensual kisses. Now that there were no clothes in the way, you were free to explore his body just as much as he did to you.

It felt like a dream to share your bed with Simeon. You had only fantasized about the possibility of something like this happening. The moment was made more magical knowing he sought you out. He had been with you enough times to know exactly where to touch you in order to draw a moan from the back of your throat. However, there was a sort of intimacy this time around that couldn’t be denied. “Wait… Wait...” you breathlessly put a pause on everything to rummage through the drawer of your night stand.

Pulling out the tiny key to the lock on the cage, you were quick to undo the damned thing and toss it to the side. It had seemed like a great idea at first when Lucifer subtly suggested it, however it had brought nothing but anguish and guilt in the end for you. You were glad to be rid of it, the accursed thing clattered to the ground as you carelessly tossed it to the side before refocusing on the man before you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long now...”

“And I’ve wanted you for so long.” He replied smoothly, pushing you down onto covers and resuming his ministrations. Having his cock freed from those dreaded confines meant he was free to take you as he wished. His resolve wouldn’t waver, not when he was already forsaken and he was staring love in the face. He felt like he was being reborn every with every second that passed.

Simeon’s knee pressed between your legs and you eagerly spread yourself wider for him. He contemplated for a brief moment the idea of burying his head between your legs and tasting you until you were a shivering mess from his tongue. However, the need to sate himself and lay his claim in you overrode his desire to tease you.

His hands smoothed down your thighs before he hooked your legs around his waist. “I want you. I want you. I want you so much.” He leaned forward to kiss your neck, your chest, your collarbones, your shoulders, everywhere he could get access to before his patience snapped and he finally, blissfully pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Simeon took his time, watching your expression change as every inch of him sank into you. He let out a long, guttural groan when he finally, blissfully, bottomed out inside of you. You were his sun, his moon, his stars. You were all that was good and was divine to him. He would happily desert the kingdom of gods to make you his paradise. Without you, he wouldn’t have fallen. Without you, he had no reason to live.

“Oh God, Simeon.” You whined, your eyelids fluttered as he filled you. You knew he would have taken his time, but you didn’t expect him to slide in so excruciatingly slowly. He made your body feel every ridge and vein of his cock, forcing it to memorize his shape and size, molding your cunt to fit him and only him forevermore.

“There is no God, there’s just me.” He seethed at the mention of the Heavenly Father. “There’s just me and you, and what I’m going to make you feel.”

Simeon was everything you had imagined he would be and more. He was so attentive, sweet and he knew just how to make you moan. His cock hit every spot within you that made you see stars. Though the pace he started off was languid and slow, he was quick to pick up speed when he saw just how positively you reacted to deeper and harder thrusts. It seemed like he effortlessly had you clutching onto the sheets below you and crying out for him.

“Mine.” He growled, slamming his hips into you. “Mine.”

He wouldn’t let anyone else interfere. He had made his decision and he would make sure that you could never desire anyone else ever again. His kisses turned into bites, leaving intents and marks across your body as he laid his claim. He gave everything to be with you and the feeling of being so intimately connected with you was divine.

The way you moaned his name as he railed you was unlike any other. It was his name that fell from your lips. Not some other man, not some unintelligible babbling. You were calling for him every time his cock slid home and filled you to the brim.

His desire to see you dripping with his seed only increased every time you begged him to go harder. Simeon was more than happy to comply with your wishes, letting the sound of skin slapping against skin echo in your room. The smell of sandalwood and oranges was soon overtaken by the scent of sex as you met every one of his thrusts with a roll of your hips.

Sweat plastered his hair to his face, his breath came out in heavy pants and he could feel how close you were to your climax every time you clenched around his length. “Ah, Little Lamb, will you cum for me, soon?” He asked sweetly against your ear.

“Yes, soon.” You confirmed, wrapping your legs around him tightly, urging him to keep going. Finally being filled with him was an absolutely transcendent experience that you wanted to last forever. You were afraid that the moment it was over, he would once again return to holding you politely at arms distance. It all felt like a dream to you and you didn’t want to wake up. “Fuck, Simeon! Ahhh~”

It seemed as though your body had other ideas. With how Simeon rubbed against your inner walls, you couldn’t last for the eternity you wished for. You screamed his name as your climax overtook you, the edges of your vision going white from the intensity of it. Frantically, you pulled him towards you for heated kisses as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Your walls fluttered around his cock, milking him encouraging him to follow you into bliss.

He wasn’t far behind you. The way you pussy hugged him and pulled him even deeper into you was all the encouragement he needed to finish the deed. His pace stuttered and he rammed himself home, once, twice, thrice before holding your hips still as he spilled his load into you.

Outside, the rain storm had turned to snow. A quick, bleary glance over at your window and you could have sworn the big, fluffy flakes looked like thousands of white feathers falling from the skies. Simeon groaned in content and exhaustion, feeling the last vestiges of what divinity he had leave him only to be replaced with an all consuming devotion to you.

He collapsed gracelessly on top of you, unwilling to depart from the warm confines of your pussy as he reveled in the feeling of his fall. You caught him him, cradling him against your chest and waited patiently for him to ride out his own high. “I love you.” he murmured softly, getting up just enough to kiss your forehead softly.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long.” You admitted, your cheeks warming at the affectionate gesture. “I love you, too.”

“Say it again.” he demanded, kissing your forehead again. “Say it again and again and again. Never stop saying it.”

“I love you.” You reiterated, giggling and rolling over so you were laying on his chest. “I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you, my Angel.”

The descent to Hell was a long one, but as long as you caught him when he Fell, it was worth it.

[itsthestutterforme]

She's Gone (All American)

Characters: Darnell, Spencer, Leila, Grace James (mentions of sex, fluff)

Darnell gets Y/N pregnant. She leaves him to live with her cousins. She had a miscarriage and was devastated. She went back home and told Grace what happened.

--

Laying on my back, Darnell slowly kisses up my stomach. He slides in between my legs and softly sucks on the sensitive skin on my neck. I swirm underneath him and he keeps one of his hands on the headboard.

I grab his hand and wrap my legs around his waist. I twist until he was below me and he says, "I still can't get used to that," "Get used to what?" "You being able to flip me over," "Should have thought about that before dating a girl that knows how to wrestle."

"Oh yeah?" "Yep," The next thing I knew, I am on my stomach. "Wha- how did you know how to?" "You think you're the only one who knows how to wrestle?" he taunts. I wrap my legs around his and flip us so that he is on his back and I am sitting a few inches away from his head.

I lean down and kiss him upside down. I gently bite down on his bottom lip and he moans into my mouth. He sits up and turns around to lift me into his lap. I grind myself against him and softly moan when I hear the door to his room open. My eyes widen and I look to the door to see a very surprised Leila and Spencer.

Spencer immediately turns back around and covers his eyes. "I am so sorry," Spencer says. "Looks like we're not the only ones who decided to skip." Leila says with a smirk. "Come on, Leila." Spencer nudges Leila out of the room. Darnell offers his shirt and I gently grabbed it from his hands. I cover my body with one of his shirts and embarrassement pinched my cheeks. "You're beautiful, don't do that." He reassures.

"If that was Grace, we both would have died." I say. "At least I would have died happy." He presses a warm kiss on my lips. I nearly fall back onto the bed but he catches me. "I have to go to practice," he says with a sigh. He stands up from the bed and puts on his boxers. "Don't you want to shower first?" I say and he immediately knew where I was going with this.

"Might as well get a snack before I head over there." He says, making me smile. He lifts me into his arms and walks me into the bathroom.

**

Something was wrong. I've been feeling out of it all week. I decided to face my fears and buy a pregnancy test from the nearest pharmacy. I'm scared to death at the thought of me being pregnant. There's a low chance that I would be pregnant if I'm birth control right?

I mean that was the whole reason why I got it, to prevent myself from getting pregnant. I pace around my apparment, waiting for my results to show. My ten minutes alarm went off and I sprint over to the pregnancy test that was sitting on the counter. My heart sunk when I saw the two pink lines. "This can't be happening," I say to myself.

My knees buckle and I fall to the floor loudly. My hands started to shake as I cover my face. My phone rings and I jump at the sound. I slowly stand up from the floor and looked at my phone to see that Grace was calling. I answer but don't say anything.

"Hello? Y/N, are you there?" "S-something happened?" "What? Is everything okay?" "How soon can you get here?" "I'm already on my way," she says. Grace is like the mother that I never had. My parents passed at a young age and my uncle that I was living with, passed due to gang violence.

Grace and her family was all I had, and is all I will ever have. A few minutes later, I hear a knock on my door and I opened the door. "Alright, honey, what happened? You're scaring me." "That's 'cause I'm scared too," "Why?" "I'm... I messed up, big time. And I have no idea what to do."

I walk over to the counter and showed Grace the pregnancy test. "Oh my Lord Jesus, okay. Okay, its okay. We'll figure it out." "No, we won't. I will. This is my mess." "No, this isn't just your mess. This is Darnell's too. It takes two to tango honey,"

"I know Darnell, okay. He is one of the good ones. If he found out that I'm pregnant, he would drop everything to help me." "As he should," "Grace, I don't want to take away his future. He is destined for great things," "So are you, honey. This is an obstacle that you both can overcome."

"Like I said, before this is my mess. I need to.. I have family in Colorado that I could stay with." "Wait, wait, you're leaving?" "Yes, that is what's best for this situation. I need to give myself time and space to think about what I am going to do."

"By leaving your family?" Grace asks. "I'll call you whenever I can, but I truthfully, I don't know when I will be back." "I don't even know how much time and space I will need." I add. "Alright, well you're an adult now and I trust your judgment. But just, be safe out there, please."

I rush into her arms and she wraps her arms around me tightly. "When do you plan on leaving?" she asks, still holding me. "Friday, when Darnell is at his game." "You're not going to tell him goodbye?" "I'll write him a letter," "Come on, honey don't pull a Corey." "If he finds out before I leave, there is no way he's letting me leave. I.. I have no choice."

**

Third Person POV

Grace just got a text from Y/N saying that she was in Colorado. She sighs deeply and pulls her letter to Darnell from her purse. She walks over to Darnell's room and knocks on his door. He opens the door and says, "Hey, Mrs. James." "Hey honey," "Have you heard anything from Y/N? She's not answering my calls and I went to her apartment but-"

Grace hands him the letter. "What is this?" he asks. "Her letter to you. It, uh, it explains everything that happened." "What do you mean explains everything? What did she leave or something?" he asks. Grace drops her head and presses her lips together to hold back her tears.

"Just read the letter, please." Darnell had a breath hitching in his throat as he tears open the letter. As he reads it, he falls onto his bed and stares at the letter with disbelief. "She's pregnant," "If she's pregnant, then why did she leave?" "Because she was scared and she didn't want to put your future in jeopardy."

"How can she be so selfless with something this big? A baby literally changes someone's life. And she chose to go through that alone." "All because she cares about you." "She didn't think that I would support her?" "It's because she knew you would support her that she left. You are one of the good ones, Darnell."

"Then why didn't she stay?" Darnell says, barely keeping his emotions in. Grace hugs him and he slowly started to fall apart under her embrace. She rested he head on his shoulder as he cried into her chest.

Weeks after Y/N left, Darnell went through different cycles of emotions. He went from depressed, to guilty to angry and back to depressed again. It was starting to effect his time on the field. He ended up skipping practices to go hang out with friends. Y/N was on the phone with Grace as she drove back to Crenshaw.

Grace didn't know that she was going back to Crenshaw. Nobody did. But after what happened with the baby, she knew she just had to come home. Darnell walks into the living room when he heard Grace say, "Y/N, are you okay? You don't sound to great?"

"Y/N?" Darnell says, making Grace jump. "Wh--, Darnell, I thought you were sleeping." "I was. I just woke up. Is that Y/N on the phone?" Before Grace could get a word out, Darnell had the phone in his hand. "Y/N?" Darnell speaks into the phone. Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.

"Y/N, please... Please don't hang up, I need to hear the sound of your voice." he begs. "What do you want me to say?" "Anything," "Okay," she says with a sigh. "I really thought it was the best for me to leave. But it ended doing to opposite of my intentions." "You played more of a role in my life than you realized. Than we both realized."

"But, uh, how is everything? How's the baby?" That tugged on Y/N's heart strings so much that she let out an unintentional sob. "Y/N, what happened?" "The, um... I-I lost her," Y/N croaks. Darnell couldn't find any words and neither could Y/N. Y/N finally pulled up next to the sidewalk in front of the James' house.

"Baby, you have to come home. You can't go through this alone." Darnell says. "Look outside." Y/N says. Darnell leaves the phone on the table and runs out of the door. Y/N gets out of her car. They run towards each other and Y/N buries her face into his shoulder. "I am so sorry," she says. "It wasn't your fault," he says against her head.

Y/N closes her eyes and softly cries into Darnell's shoulder. They contined to hold each other and didn't dare move a muscle. Spencer and Dillon walk through the gate as they laughed among themselves. They both go quiet when they see Y/N and Darnell in the yard and Grace standing on the porch.

"Ma. what happened?" Spencer asks and Grace shakes her head. "It's not my story to tell." Few weeks later and Y/N is still walking around on eggshells around everybody. The miscarriage has affected everything, her social skills, her independency, her grades. More importantly, her trust and her ability to love.

One day, Grace, DIllon and Spencer went to a barbeque. They invited Y/N and Darnell, but Y/N was slowly becoming anti-social and Darnell didn't want to leave her side. He heard Y/N starting to run a bath and wanted to join. He knocked on the door before entering when he saw her clutching her stomach.

"Did something else happen?" He asked. She shook her head no and Darnell sighs deeply before turning her out so she was facing him. He knelt down so he was at the same level of her stomach. He gently kissed her stomach, and a few tears left her eyes.

"What happened doesn't change the way I feel about you, okay? And it never will." He stands up and held her face in his hands as he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. "Come on, baby, get in the tub." She turned off the water before hopping in and soon after Darnell hopped in, making the tub overflow with water.

"Grace is going to kill us," Y/N says with a chuckle. Darnell doesn't say anything and when Y/N looks at him, she noticed that he was staring at her. "What?" "That was the first time I heard you laugh," "I'm.. I'm trying to get better, Darnell."

"I know. I can see your efforts. But you don't have to do everything alone." "I know," Y/N turns around and leans her back into Darnell's stomach. He pulls her closer to her and presses a kiss to her temple and they just sit there in comfortable silence. "I'm going to marry you, one day. You know that, right?" "I'm counting on it,"

[justkeeptrekkin]

Sharing a bed for the first time and spooning / hugging. Nothing too explicit but a lot of affection and comfort. I have this headcanon but I can't find any good fic about this

“You know, I’ve heard that the best way to warm up is body heat.”

Hope you enjoy this prompt anon!

***

The neighbours have noticed. The whole street has lost its central heating, the entire place is freezing apart from Aziraphale’s bookshop, and the neighbours have noticed. They aren’t pleased. 

There are many cases in which Aziraphale has used his miracle abilities for selfish reasons, for his own comfort. There’s, of course, the whole situation with those nasty mafia type men wanting to buy his bookshop from him, who he’s… dealt with. There’s also all the customers he persuades not to buy any of the books, gently escorting them from the shop with an angelic smile till they find themselves outside, not knowing how they got there. 

Today, there’s the central heating. It’s very easy, really, to keep the whole shop warm. And he might have been able to fix it for the whole street, but Heaven still aren’t very happy with him about Armageddon and he doesn’t want to attract unnecessary attention. And, what with the neighbours noticing how toasty his shop is and complaining and causing a fuss, it doesn’t seem worth the trouble. 

So now, he’s lying in his bed, something he rarely uses- it also happens to have a duvet, which is helpful on this particular occasion- he’s wearing three jumpers, and he is still absolutely freezing. Lying in the foetal position beneath the sheets, he weighs up his options. 

As far as he sees it, he only has one. 

That is how, a twenty minute cab ride later, he finds himself at Crowley’s apartment building. After ringing the intercom, it takes a moment for anyone to answer. He dances a little jig on the spot, trying to keep warm, his breath pouring out of him in clouds of steam. 

Then:

“What is it?”

“It’s me- sorry to disturb you, I’m- good Lord, it’s so cold-”

“It’s all this post-not-apocalypse business, angel, it‘s messed with the weather,” Crowley says, without missing a beat. “Come on up.”

The door buzzes, Aziraphale pushes it open, and as soon as he steps inside, he’s amazed by the difference. It’s so warm. It’s the warmest he’s been in hours, and it’s making his skin tingle. The elevator journey up to Crowley’s floor is quick, and as soon as the doors slide open, Aziraphale sees him- leaning against the doorframe, waiting.

“Why didn’t you text me you were coming over,” he grumbles.

“I still don’t like it, Crowley.” Referring to the iPhone that Crowley’s fobbed off on him, which he’s encouraging Aziraphale to use and is failing to do so monumentally. “Every time I try and open up the message thing, it thinks I’m clicking on something called iTunes, and then it starts playing music without warning, and it’s just horrible.”

Crowley steps back to let Aziraphale through. “You’d get the hang of it if you tried. Problem with you, angel, ‘s you’re too stubborn.”

Aziraphale ignores him, as he often does when he’s being insulted like this. Crowley’s flat is deliciously warm, and Aziraphale shrugs off his coat with a contented sigh. 

“What brings you here this fine evening?” Crowley says in a jokingly formal tone. 

“Central heating is buggered,” Aziraphale says, hanging up his coat by the door. He pulls off his scarf, thus shimmying off his bow tie a little, and Crowley appears fascinated by the action. “And you know how hard it is to perform any miracles these days.”

Crowley growls. “I don’t understand-” his whole body slumps with exhaustion and infuriation, “-Why they still won’t leave us alone. Didn’t we scare them enough? Why do they still care? Their plan went to shit, so why? Why?”

“Who knows, dear,” Aziraphale gently drapes the scarf over the coat stand hook, turns to measure Crowley- who’s sloped off to sit at his desk sulkily. Aziraphale watches him from the corridor, continues, “Better not to dwell on these things.”

“Better than being melted with holy water. Or burned with Hellfire.”

“Well, quite.”

Crowley is draped over his chair. Aziraphale stands and lingers. His nose is still cold. Actually, despite it being toasty in here, he thinks it might take a while for his body to reacclimatise. Crowley casts his golden eyes over towards him, where he hangs awkwardly in the sparse room. 

“So you’re coming to mooch off me, are you?”

Aziraphale tuts. “No. I had rather thought that the offer was still open.”

“What offer?”He hesitates.

“The- well. The one you made in Tadfield. On the bench. Before we got the bus to London that was actually for Oxford.”

Something in Crowley’s expression shifts. And something in his shoulders, too- his whole body tenses a little. Like someone who’d been expecting a friend to walk into the room has suddenly found the Queen, asking if she can make herself at home. 

“Right. Yes, right. You- hang on.”

Crowley launches himself from his chair, snaps his fingers, conjures sofas. Not the Spartan, minimalist type either- no, these are soft and tartan and very much Aziraphale’s style. 

“Oh! Lovely. I’ve been telling you for months that you need a proper living room,” Aziraphale notes, rather pleased with how the place looks now. “See how much more homey it is?”

“Right,” Crowley replies, like he’s not really listening. “Um. So, you’re thinking of staying the night then?”

“Ah. Well, if you’d rather I didn’t-”

“Nope. S’fine. All fine, this is fine,” Crowley rushes. “This is fine. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh- OK.”

And Aziraphale marvels at how suddenly flustered he is, spinning round in panicked circles before magicking blankets into existence, fetching a bottle of Rioja from his cupboards, turning side lights on and main lights off so the place looks warmer, less cave-like, and doing one thousand other things at once that makes Aziraphale soften. 

He’s already soft enough, but this is all too endearing for Aziraphale to handle. He’s always taken pleasure from Crowley fussing over him. Right now, the sight of him bustling about the living room- it lifts something inside of him. Something in his chest lifts like bubbles rising to the surface of a still lake.

“Crowley. Crowley,” he repeats, when the demon doesn’t hear him. After the second time, Aziraphale receives a startled expression, brows raised and mouth hanging open a little. Surprised by the interruption. “My dear, you don’t have to do all this. I’m perfectly happy just being here. With.”

With you, he thinks. With you. Just say it, Aziraphale, you coward.

He doesn’t. He closes his mouth, stares at Crowley’s slack expression, then at the wall directly behind him. 

“Thank you,” he eventually says. Adds a nervous smile. “For putting me up.”

“Don’t- don’t thank me, you don’t need to thank me, I offered, remember? Just…” Crowley hovers in the makeshift living room. His lips twist nervously, he stuffs his hands in his barely-there trouser pockets, kicks the sofa. “What is it that changed your mind?”

“How do you mean?”

“About staying over. You said. Back then, you said your side wouldn’t like it. Now?”

Aziraphale thinks about this. He looks above the cold apartment- warm physically, cold emotionally- and then at the sofas that have just been produced. Purely for Aziraphale’s comfort. 

“I’m comfortable with you,” he says quietly, too quietly.

“What?”

“I’m- it’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing. Aziraphale’s been chasing after comfort for his whole existence, never really finding it except for in the company of one person. The one person he’s not meant to want to be with. 

But-

“Well, even if you won’t accept my thank you, I’m offering it nonetheless,” Aziraphale ploughs on- Crowley frowns at him, but allows the change in subject. “So it’s there. If you want to accept it.”

After a pause, Crowley’s frown melts, and he shrugs. He collapses on the sofa. He puts on the telly.

“Alright, alright, don’t go on about it. Let’s see if there’s anything less depressing than the news on.”

***

It’s not that the sofa isn’t comfortable. It’s just that Aziraphale feels at a bit of a loose end. 

He’d confidently assured Crowley that he could leave Aziraphale to it and retire for the night. But without his books, and in such a sparse flat, he’s sitting here feeling a little bit of a lemon. 

He’s thought about sleeping. He tried, and it just didn’t seem like he’d drop off. He’s only just got the hang of this whole sleeping business anyway- he had a very successful nap after Armageddon, but it appears that he still needs practice. So, giving up, he’s resorted to looking out of the window and staring at the people down below, walking about Westminster in the cold. After a while even that gets a bit dull, so he sits on the sofa again and turns on the television, puts it on mute so as not to disturb Crowley. 

And, amazingly, he’s still cold. Not because the apartment itself is cold, but because his body is still acclimatising. He sighs. And he thinks, as he stares at the silent television, that he may need a bath to warm up properly.

The sound of the door bursting open makes him jump out of his skin. 

He turns around and looks at the door- it’s open, but no one’s there. “Crowley?”

“I can hear you sighing from all the way in here,” he calls out from his bedroom. “Just get in here.”

“Pardon?”

“You said you could entertain yourself, but you obviously can’t.”

Aziraphale stares about the living room, at a loss. Crowley’s acting as if there isn’t anything remotely intimate about him inviting Aziraphale into his room. Back on that bench in Tadfield, he’d been rather casual then too, offering to let him stay over. Aziraphale had been scandalised and tempted. He’s feeling similarly now. 

This time, though, he’s leaning towards tempted. 

And so, brushing himself off, straightening his cardigan uselessly, he stands up from the sofa and steps uncertainly into Crowley’s room. 

He’s under the covers, laptop leaning against his raised knees. The room is equally sparse, except from a huge piece of modern artwork that- for all that Aziraphale can tell- is simply a large canvas painted black with a little white blob on it. He tilts his head and stares at it for a while. 

“Planning on standing there all night?”

Aziraphale’s attention flits to Crowley. He’s sat there, peering at him over the edge of his laptop screen. Huge, yellow eyes. Watchful- and possibly a little bit guarded. He’s growing his hair out, too- it’s looking more like it did a couple of years ago, half tied up in a messy bun. 

“Sorry?”

“Just. Don’t think standing and watching me from the doorway is going to be much more entertaining than whatever you were doing next door. You. You could.” His word catch in his throat. “You could actually get in.”

“A-ah. Yes.” 

Aziraphale nods to himself, straightens his cardigan out again and walks purposefully towards the bed. When he gets there, he hesitates awkwardly- Crowley watching with wry amusement. He pulls the duvet back and covers himself, knees in the air. Back, uncomfortably, against the railing of the bed. 

“Well done, you managed,” Crowley drawls. 

“Stop it.”

“Just a bed, angel,” he adds, though the tone is too light.

“I don’t use them very often.”

“Yes, but, see, I was under the impression you still knew how they worked. Just then you looked like you’d forgotten the function of a duvet.”

Aziraphale shoots him a look, but Crowley’s doing something on his laptop. He seems pleased with himself.

Aziraphale straightens out his legs, wiggles his toes. 

“It is very warm in here,” Aziraphale admits. “I can see why you like napping so much.”

“Like being warm,” he mumbles, continuing to do something on his laptop that Aziraphale can’t understand. 

“What are you doing?”

Crowley sighs. “You’re so nosy.”

“No I’m- I beg your pardon. I thought you were meant to encourage curiosity, snake?”

He snorts. “I’m catching up on Love Island.”

“What’s Love Island?”

“You…” he wrinkles his nose. “You don’t want to know.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It’s- ha! It’s really not.”

“Oh. Is it one of yours?”

“Yep.”

“I see.”

Crowley looks at him. And there’s a strange expression on his face; strange in that it’s almost childlike. Wide eyed and vulnerable. 

“I can watch it later,” he says, lips barely moving.

“Oh- no, don’t let me stop you-”

“Nah. Nah, you know what, I’ll watch it tomorrow,” he announces too loudly, closes his laptop loudly, drops it on the floor loudly. “Let’s just sit. Sit and talk. When’s the last time we talked? Just sat and talked.”

“I believe we do that almost every day. And have done for a few millennia now.”

“Yeah, but.”

Not like this, Aziraphale thinks, though he’s too scared to acknowledge that thought. No, he ignores it stoically like a dog being offered medicine, wrapped up in ham. He eats around the pill. 

As it turns out, neither of them want to approach whatever direction that conversation was going. So they end up instead talking about nothing. Things that Aziraphale will forget about tomorrow, but are enjoyable in the moment. Eventually, he gives up on leaning against the railing and lies down, and then so does Crowley, until they’re laying side by side. It’s easy to imagine that they’re outside, on some grassy knoll, looking up at the stars. Or the clouds. Heaven. 

“I think I’m only just about warming up, now,” Aziraphale sighs, after an extensive conversation about glacier cherries and which side invented them.

“Only just?” Crowley asks, aghast. “I laid out all those sodding blankets for nothing?”

“No, no, you- you did wonderfully, dear.” Aziraphale doesn’t miss the way Crowley turns his head away and stares at the ceiling with a deep set frown. “I just don’t think my corporeal form is used to being cold for so long. If ever I was cold before, I’d just…”

Aziraphale snaps his fingers. Nothing happens, of course; he’s being careful these days. 

“Being human sounds rubbish, doesn’t it. Being cold all the time. Getting hungry. Doing exams and running out of phone battery.”

“It has its perks.”

“Yeah. Least we get to experience the good stuff.”

Aziraphale has been watching Crowley, lying on his back with his cheek pressed against the pillow. He’s been watching the way his hair is falling out of its loose ties, red curls around his face in tendrils. He also keeps finding little stray red hairs over his own cardigan; proof that this whole sharing-a-bed thing happened, in case he ever forgets (he never will). 

And he thinks of all the things that Crowley has done for him over the millennia. Everything, from the Bastille to books to apocalypses to offering a warm place to stay. He thinks of how much Crowley gives, despite never receiving; thinks of his trial in Hell, and all the cruelty that he’s experienced from the beginning; thinks about how, actually, he understands how that feels. To not be good (or bad) enough, to not be worth the attention, to be treated so coldly. Aziraphale thinks that he understands, in many ways, how Crowley feels- and he thinks of what he can give back, after everything Crowley has done. 

“You know, I’ve heard that the best way to warm up is body heat.”

It sounds ridiculous when he says it, not like him at all. But he knows that the only way he’ll be able to give Crowley a cuddle is by dressing it up. By making it seem like he’s asking for a favour, rather than giving Crowley what he deserves. Crowley will readily grant Aziraphale a favour, but will bear his fangs at the sight of a compliment. Aziraphale sees all the demon’s insecurities, and it’ll take every trick in the book to get past those defences.

Crowley’s head turns towards him. Eyes darting about his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. So. If- that is, if you’re a willing participant, you could be that body.”

Crowley huffs a laugh. “An offer I can’t refuse.”

At first, it sounds like a joke. The mocking tone is there, but beneath it, there’s sincerity. It’s so genuine and affectionate and intimate- and that feeling returns in his chest, the happy-nervous bubbles rising to the surface. 

“Right,” Aziraphale breathes. Watching the indescribably soft expression on Crowley’s face. “Well, that’s decided then.”

“Suppose it is.”

Now he’s suggested it, though, Aziraphale’s not brave enough to move. Luckily for him, Crowley is. Crowley’s always the braver one of the two, even if he’s technically the bad one. 

And so Crowley lifts up an arm, a gesture for Aziraphale to lay his head on his chest. And he does, after a bit of shuffling. Crowley is bony and sharp, but there’s also an obvious landscape to him that makes it easy for Aziraphale to get comfortable- like a particularly chair shaped rock at the beach. Although it takes him a minute to find the right spot, and Crowley grumbles at him to stop moving and sort yourself out, angel. Eventually, though, they find themselves still. Cuddled up, Crowley’s arms around him The feeling of his chest rising and falling, breath tickling Aziraphale’s forehead. His smell. His hair, too close to be able to focus on properly- just a blur of red. 

Aziraphale can’t believe his luck. 

And at some point, he dozes off. They both do. Aziraphale knows this, because when he wakes up, he finds their roles reversed- they’re lying on their sides, and Crowley’s curled up beneath his chin. Their legs are tangled and so is Aziraphale’s heart. 

He simply lies there. He lies there and brings in Crowley close, holds him. Embraces him, offers him all the softness, all the attention that he deserves. Wraps him up in his arms like he belongs there.