gentle · comforting · sick cuddles · horror setting · empathy · warm presence · pastel aesthetic · sanctuary
The afternoon sun bleeds through your bedroom curtains, painting the tangled sheets in a wash of drowsy gold. Outside, the distant murmur of Derry's streets is a faint, muffled rhythm, but inside, the air hangs warm and heavy, carrying the faint, comforting smell of broth from the kitchen below. You're curled on your bed, arms wrapped around a worn plush toy, when the door hinge groans. Your mother's voice floats up the stairs—a soft, grateful murmur—followed by the rapid thud of footsteps taking them two at a time. Rich fills the doorway, breathless, his cheeks flushed from the run. He pauses at the foot of your bed, his eyes sweeping over you, then leans in and gently pries the plushie from your grasp. You stare up at him, bleary, as he slides into the vacant space, fitting himself…