#hurt/confort

[minty-mumbles]

Gingerbread

Summary: The chain has found themselves at Lon Lon Ranch in the middle of the Yule season. Sky finds Wild alone in the kitchen late one evening, and offers both company and help with the baking the champion is doing.

A/N: Secret Santa gift for @themackenziemachine

(Read on AO3 Here)

~~~

A thick layer of snow covered Lon Lon Ranch, blanketing the world in silence the way only a fresh snowfall could. Thick snowflakes still fell from the sky, quickly filling in the tracks left behind by a pair of people trudging out to the barn and then back to the house. 

Inside, things were just as quiet. Two pairs of snowy boots were left piled by the front door, quickly forming a puddle from the snow melting off them. Their owners were nowhere to be seen, already retreating up to the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. A fire burned lowly in the hearth, nothing but embers remaining after burning for hours. The evergreen boughs and springs of holly that were placed on the mantle for decoration filled the house with their scent, filling it with holiday cheer.

The only sounds in the house came from the kitchen, where a scarred boy stood alone, working at the kitchen counter. A disk of brown dough sat before him. Repetitively and methodically, he worked with his hands and a rolling pin until it turned into a thin, flat sheet of dough. 

When he was finished with that, he picked up a sharp knife but was interrupted by the sounds of someone coming down the stairs.

 It was Sky. He was lacking his outer tunic, his hair was mussed and he had clearly just come from bed. Wild turned back to what he was doing, cutting shapes into the sheet of dough.

“Wild?” Sky asked, voice soft with sleep.

Wild didn’t respond, not that Sky needed him to in order to identify the hunched-over form in the kitchen. He already knew it was the champion. He walked a bit closer, brow furrowed as he took in Wild’s appearance. “Twilight and Time just came back from making sure the animals were all taken care of. Twilight said you were still up. He was worried.”

Wild barely glanced at Sky but dismissively murmured, “I couldn't sleep.” 

Sky approached, looking at the messy counter, covered in flour and small scraps of dough. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Baking the gingerbread. I was gonna do it tomorrow but it’s chilled long enough.” Sky smiled at that. Baking had always been one of his favorite Yule traditions. “Gingerbread” wasn’t something he was familiar with from Skyloft, but enough of the other heroes had been delighted when Wild said he would make them that Sky was looking forward to trying them all the same.

“Do you want some company?”

Wild sighed, glancing at Sky again. His eyes lingered for a second, taking in Sky’s disheveled appearance. “I’m okay, really. I didn’t have a nightmare or anything. I just couldn’t sleep. You can go back to bed. There’s no need to check on me.”

Sky smiled. “I know. I was already getting up to get a glass of water. I just don’t want you to be lonely. I like banking anyway. I usually do some with Sun every Yule, so I’m not totally incompetent.” 

Wild didn’t seem to believe that Sky truly wanted to keep him company, but didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, motioning him to wash off his hands before he touched the food. 

Many hands made light work. In no time at all, the rest of the dough had been rolled out and cut into shape, and laid out carefully on several sheet pans.

“Not bad,” Sky commented, appraising the cookies. They were all cut into the traditional gingerbread man shape. A few of them were lopsided, but they were all recognizable.

“Oh,” Wild said. “I should’ve let you cut them out. You’re the artist between the two of us, with your woodcutting.”

“You did a fine job,“ Sky assured him. ”Woodcutting doesn’t translate over into cookie cutting that well, anyway. What’s next?”

“Baking them,” Wild said absently, already opening the oven. A wave of heat blasted out, making Sky shiver. He hadn’t realized how chilly it had gotten in the house with the fire burning so low. Wild picked up one of the trays and turned to slide them into the oven. 

“How long do they have to bake?” Sky asked, looking at the rest of the trays left on the counter. He hoped they wouldn’t take not long. He was getting a bit tired, but he had promised Wild some company, so he would stay awake. It was clear the champion needed it. 

“Ten minutes,” Wild said shortly. He closed the oven door, but made no more movements, just staring straight ahead, as if lost in thought. When he didn’t move, Sky put a hand on his shoulder. Wild jumped a bit at the touch, but soon relaxed into his hand.

“Come on, let's go sit by the fire. It’s a bit chilly.” 

That stirred Wild into action, and the two of them quietly shuffled over the area in front of the fireplace. Sky added a few logs to the fireplace, sending sparks to flare up, carried on the updraft up the chimney. Wild, seemingly remembering what Sky had come downstairs for in the first place, set some milk over the fire to warm. When it was steaming, he carefully poured two cups, and grated some nutmeg on top of both of them.

Sky smiled at the sight of the expensive spice. On Skyloft, nutmeg was a luxury, only used on special occasions. From what he had gathered, it was the same in most of the other hero’s eras, but he wasn't surprised that Wild had some stored away in his slate. If there was one thing the champion didn’t hesitate to spend money on, it was good food.

“Felt like splurging a bit?” Sky asked, but all he got back was a nonchalant hum. Wild was clearly not in the mood for chatting. Nonetheless, he gratefully accepted the cup of milk. 

Sky sipped at the drink slowly, savoring the taste of the expensive spice, but he still finished his cup before Wild could. The champions seemed enthralled with the fire, gaze unwaveringly fixed on the tongues of flame that licked at the blackened logs. He was so still that more than once Sky feared he’d fallen into a memory. 

Every so often Wild would blink, gaze flicking away from the fire and over to Sky, as if to make sure he was still there. Occasionally, he seemed to remember that he was holding a drink and took a sip, but then went right back to staring at the flames. 

After several minutes of companionable silence, Sky stood. His movement drew Wild’s attention, but Sky motioned for him to stay where he was. “I’ll be right back,” he assured. 

He made his way into the kitchen, and took the first tray of cookies out of the oven, set them aside to cool, and replaced them with another tray. Then he climbed the stairs to the second floor- carefully making sure to step over the third step from the top which always creaked loudly when it was stepped on. 

Entering the guest room where He’d been sleeping not even half an hour ago, Sky carefully picked his way around the sleeping bodies, feeling for his pack in the dark. He retrieved what he came for and left as quickly as he came, this time while cradling his harp close to his chest. Hopefully, he hadn’t disturbed the sleep of any of his brothers.

Wild was exactly where Sky had left him, and had gone back to staring at the fire. He didn’t look up as Sky returned, and didn’t seem to register the fact that Sky had brought his harp down with him.

 It was obvious by now that something was wrong with the champion, despite his claims. Maybe he truly hadn’t had a nightmare, and he really couldn’t sleep, but there was something else going on too.

Sky thought about prying. He thought about setting aside his harp and asking Wild what was wrong. But he wouldn’t imagine that would go well. Wild had already indicated he didn’t feel up to talking, even about mundane things. Sky doubted Wild would want to delve into his darker thoughts.

So instead of asking, Sky readied his harp, and began to play.

Wild jerked, not expecting the sudden music. He turned to look at Sky. He stared for long enough that Sky thought he was going to say something, but instead he turned back to watch the light dance in the hearth.

Sky plucked at the strings gently, starting up a soothing melody. He kept it as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb any of the sleeping heroes or Malon upstairs.

His playing didn’t seem to make Wild any happier or offer him a distraction from his thoughts, but it also didn’t seem to be making him upset. As Wild didn’t ask Sky to stop, the chosen hero continued his quiet playing.

In a break between songs, as Sky was plucking idly on the strings and thinking about which song to play next, Wild spoke up. His voice was so quiet, Sky nearly missed it, but he put aside his harp to listen better. 

“Yule feels so familiar. It’s so-” Wild cut himself off with a wavering sigh. Sky blinked at him in confusion before realizing Wild was probably telling him what had been on his mind the whole evening. 

“I can’t remember celebrating the holidays with my family. But the snow, and the smell of pine and nutmeg, and the warmth from the fire…” Wild trailed off, reaching out a hand out towards the flames as if feeling their warmth. Sky wondered if he even realized he was doing it. 

Wild slowly brought the hand back to his chest, clutching the front of his tunic loosely. “It all feels so familiar. It makes me happy, because I know I must have been happy before.” 

Sky didn’t ask what Wild meant by ‘before.’ He already knew.

“But it hurts so much, because I am never going to know exactly what I lost. No one can tell me about my family, and I’m probably never going to remember. I don’t even know them, but I still miss them so badly.” Wild seemed to lose steam the longer he spoke, his words trailing off into a miserable whisper until they were barely audible.

Sky’s first reaction was to try and reassure Wild that, of course, he would remember eventually. He bit his tongue, pushing down the urge. Wild didn’t seem to be expecting an immediate answer to what he’d said, so Sky took his time formulating his response. This wasn’t the time to be rushing into things and sticking his foot in it. 

It was a nice thought that eventually Wild would remember everything about his previous life, but not a very realistic one. And honestly, if Wild said he thought he wasn’t going to remember something, Sky was inclined to believe him. Wild knew more about his amnesia than Sky ever would. 

The boy had lost his family, in possibly the most permanent sense. He didn’t have any memories to look back on as he grieved. From what Sky knew, the boy didn’t even know who he was mourning. A mother and father, brothers or sisters, perhaps? Sky didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure Wild did either. How could Wild know when he couldn’t remember?

Telling Wild that the emotions he was feeling were wrong wasn't going to help anyone. 

The teen had been through a lot, and Sky knew from personal experiences that having your emotions dismissed felt horrible. Every reassurance that everything would be okay eventually felt like a personal insult when it seemed like nothing would ever be alright ever again. If you felt bad in the moment, being told you would feel better in the future wasn't helpful.

He wouldn't do that to Wild. Sky had been able to drag himself out of that horribly dark mindset after his own quest, but it had taken a long time, and support from his friends and family. 

He could be that support for Wild, as long as he needed it.

He set his harp to the side, scooting closer to Wild and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Wild followed his tugging and leaned against Sky’s shoulder with no resistance. 

Sky did his best to offer comforting words. “You may not ever be able to remember your family, but you don’t need to remember what they were like to know you loved them. You don’t need to know their faces to mourn them. Not having many memories of your loved ones didn’t mean your love for them was diminished at all.”

Wild didn’t respond, but Sky hesitated to push him anymore. Wild was already being vulnerable tonight, Sky didn’t want to pressure him. 

At least Wild seemed in a slightly better mood as he contemplated Sky’s words. He didn’t return to his previous stupor, remaining alert instead of zoning out and staring at the fire. Sky hoped Wild would think about what Sky said. At the very least, he hoped that Wild wouldn’t hesitate to come to Sky again if he needed to talk. 

The silence continued, but it was more comfortable than before. Sky no longer felt the need to fill the quiet with music, content to simply sit next to Wild. That was, until an unpleasant scent reached Sky’s nose. He sniffed, frowning. It smelled like something was burning, and it wasn’t the pleasant scent of the pine wood in the fireplace.

“Wild, do you-” his words were cut off before he could even finish his question by Wild shooting up from where he’d been leaning into Sky’s side. 

“Oh gods, the cookies!”

There was a mad scramble to the kitchen, and Sky hovered anxiously while Wild grabbed the oven mitts and brought the second tray out of the oven. There was a moment of silence as the two of them observed the tray of cookies.

“Well,” Sky started, trying to be positive. “Some of them can be salvaged.”

Wild only sighed, putting the tray to the side, and turning to slide the next one into the oven. Sky watched in concern when Wild’s shoulder started to shake. Was he crying? When Wild turned around, though, Sky could see he was restraining himself from bursting into laughter. 

“Here I was throwing a pity party for myself, and letting the cookies burn,” Wild said, barely able to get his words out without wheezing. 

“What- it’s not your fault-” Sky spluttered, not sure how to respond to that, but Wild waved him off. The misfortune with the cookies seemed to have cheered him up even more, so Sky let it go, even though he didn't approve of Wild calling the evening a “pity party.”

The rest of the time waiting for the final three batches of cookies was spent sitting next to each other on the couch, this time with a much lighter atmosphere than before. Sky started playing again, and now Wild was actually paying attention. He seemed to appreciate Sky’s playing, and occasionally, he even piped up to say he recognized the song Sky was playing from his own era. (It always amazed Sky to hear that some parts of Skyloft’s culture, such as certain songs, survived through the many years that separated them.)

Sky could accept that although Wild wasn’t better- it would take a long time for Wild to truly make peace with his lost memories and his family’s death- he wasn’t feeling the crushing weight of that grief anymore tonight. 

By the time the last tray of cookies came out of the oven, Wild had decided that the first tray was cool enough to be iced. He was quick to whip up some simple icing. Powdered sugar with milk added a bit at a time until it reached the right consistency to pipe onto the cookies. Neither of them knew where Malon kept a piping bag in her kitchen or if she even had one at all, but thankfully, Wild had some stashed in his slate. 

Sky wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Wild had such a specific tool in his slate. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out Wild had an entire kitchen stuffed into his slate. He said as much, but Wild didn’t laugh at his joke. Sky decided it was best not to ask.

The icing started out simple and random, adding the impression of hair and clothes, all in white. It didn’t take long before Wild was making some of the cookies into people he knew. There was one of Flora, some that were meant to represent the new champions from Wild’s stories- Riju, Teba, Yunobo, and Sidon. Sky squinted, but he honestly couldn’t see how the one meant to represent Sidon looked like him at all. At least from what he remembered from the picture Wild had shown the group of heroes before. He cut Wild some slack though, since he only had white icing to work with, and was trying to squeeze a non-hylian onto a hylian-shaped cookie.

Sky liked the idea of decorating some of the cookies to resemble people he knew. He set about making one to represent Sun. He was so focused on his decoration that he didn’t notice what Wild was doing in the meantime until he was finished with his Sun cookie. When he looked up again, he was surprised to see Wild had- somehow- managed to make a whole rainbow of colors, already placed into piping bags.

“What?” He gasped. “How?”

Wild grinned sheepishly. “There’s a dye shop in Hateno, my hometown. They mostly make dye for clothing, but they also sell food-safe dye. It’s pretty expensive but I figured it might be useful to have some at some point so I bought some in every color. This is a good enough time as any to start using it. We won’t be as limited by the colors anymore.”

Sky felt a grin overtaking his features. He knew exactly who he wanted to make into a cookie next. Grabbing the red icing and a new cookie, and started constructing a familiar, ridiculous hairstyle. His only regret when he got done with the Groose coolie was that the man wouldn’t be able to see Sky’s masterpiece before it was devoured. It actually looked a decent amount like the man.

Leaning back, Sky popped his back, a bit stiff from having been sitting at the counter for so long. Looking over at Wild, he saw that the champion ws also finishing up his current cookie. When Wild held it up to show Sky, he could see it was colored to look exactly like Twilight. 

“That looks really good!” Sky said, leaning over to look closer. It really did look like a mini version of the rancher. Wild had even used a toothpick to carefully draw in the lines of Twilight’s facial tattoos. 

They worked quickly, occasionally exchanging snickers at the cute cookie versions of the other heroes. They even did one for Sky, with a mini sailcloth and all. All the cookies were messy. Some of the icing was smeared, but they remained recognizable as their fellow heroes. 

Occasionally, they had to stop for Wild to mix new colors to match the colors of the other heroes. Pink for Legend’s hair, purple for part of Four's tunic, a lighter blue for Wild and Wind’s tunics, and gray for Time’s armor. 

By the time they’d finished icing most of the cookies, the kitchen was covered in smears of colorful icing. Sky winced. He hoped the color wouldn't stain the counters. He doubted Time or Malon would appreciate waking up to find their kitchen more colorful than they’d left it the night before.

He and Wild leaned back, observing their work so far. Neither of them were painters and it was obvious, but none of the cookies looked half bad. Sky personally thought they looked great, but Wild seemed to disagree. Sky watched curiously as Wild leaned over, picked up the black icing, and added two tiny black lines over Legend’s eyes. 

“There, that’s much better. It looks way more like him,” he said, struggling to hold back a laugh at the angry expression on the cookie’s face. Sky had to hold back a snort too. He could already imagine the reaction Legend would have the next day when he noticed how his expression differed from the rest. Sky anticipated plenty of shouting and angry expressions from the veteran, not that it would help the vet prove that he ‘didn’t look like that.’ 

Now there was only one hero left to ice, and only one cookie left to be iced. “You’re the last one to ice,” Sky said, reaching for the last cookie before catching sight of it. When he did, he froze.

The only cookie left on the tray was from the batch they’d burnt early in the night. They’d needed to throw half of that batch in the trash, but had agreed some of the cookies were salvageable. This had been one of them. Unfortunately, the cookie was badly burnt all along one side. 

“Oh,” Sky nearly choked, casting a worried glance at Wild. He felt deeply conflicted about whether he should laugh at this or not. It was a little bit funny that the only cookie left for Wild was the one that was burnt, and the champion had never shown himself to be sensitive about his scars before. But Sky didn’t want Wild to think he was laughing at him. Especially after how emotional the night had already been. 

Thankfully, Wild answered that dilemma for him, breaking out into a strangled chuckle. Wild slapped a hand over his mouth, looking surprised at the laugh that had slipped out of him, and his startled expression was enough to set Sky off. Sky laughing seemed to make Wild break too, and soon both of them were bent over the counter, wheezing as quietly as they could.

Eventually, they managed to reign themselves in, and Wild picked up the blue icing, starting with the outline of his tunic. Sky remained content to watch him, occasionally handing him different colors when requested. Slowly, Sky let his mind wander. 

It had been an eventful night. Some part of him was still worried about Wild, but another part of him knew that the champion was strong enough to pull through his inner turmoil. 

The house still smelled like pine and holly, but now the sweet scent of the gingerbread also filled the house. The kitchen was pleasantly warm from the roaring fire and recently used an oven. Sky couldn’t help but find himself dozing off with his head propped up on his hand. 

It was late after all, well past the time they should have gone to sleep. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to doze a bit while Wild finished the last cookie.

Bonus: The Cookies :)

#linked universe #mint's fanficiton #lu sky #lu wild #grief #hurt/confort #angst #fluff #lu wild angst #lu fanfiction

[yandere-heaven-nyxie]

Our Significants

Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche/Wanderer x War Cyborg!Reader

Your backstory is inspired by 'Alita: Battle Angel' Explanation of your story shall begin now.

°~⭐~°

Khaen'riah had been on war with the abyss for the longest time the most out of all. The pride of humanity, where no god lay their eyes on them nor did Celestia but it has a severe consequence of a land that has not been touched by anything other then humans.

The people of Khaen'riah suffered enormous casualties for the ongoing war between them and the Abyss. They created robots to aid them as The Abyss corrodes anything that lives, anything that has symbolism of nature.

The personification of The Abyss, 'Night Mother'

She who corroded the entirety of Khaen'riah, making the people seek parts of the nails from Celestia. The one where it cleanse the dark pudgy mud away, They send the remaining of robots as we know now as 'Ruin Graders' to return with the skyborne power, yet they failed.

As Khaen'riah researchers pushed themselves further to create a more capable cyborg variants where they won't have to use the heavy chunky metal to fight those creatures. Agile and more "human"

They created you, well not just you. There were many before you but they weren't as capable as you. The newest and more capable ones, where your creator learns how to fix his mistakes and make you more than capable of fighting the abyss.

Even after all the experiments, creations and prototypes. They weren't successful in winning against The Abyss, without the skyborne power they have now fallen, far from any savings. The Abyss, corroded everything in Khaen'riah. Controlling them as the Night Mother cursed them into becoming monstrous immortal beast.

°~🌕~°

Your body carried you, even after you reached your limit. Your dull eyes with star pupil slowly closing under a big sakura tree.

You slept for a hundred years, woken up by a hand, the hand's fingers were gently pushing away the sakura petals that fell on your now long hair. It was a woman, she had purple hair and a mole under her eye. She had decided to take you along with her, studying your anatomy. To study on how to make a perfect puppet for her,

The first by-product inspired by you, was Kunikuzushi. Beelzebul used everything she learned from you and your body but she forgot one thing, to disable the capability of feeling human emotions. Empathy. She realised her mistakes, at first she wanted to just finish him off but she wasn't able to. For she herself didn't realise why but her feelings are something she couldn't lie to. Letting the puppet go, she also decided to let you go too. You had done your purpose for her, so now she pays you with freedom. Freedom that... Made you and his path crossed again.

You may used to be with Beelzebul but where you were placed was somewhere far from her by-product. You once again, decided to drown yourselves in a dreamless sleep for a hundred years.

°~🌸~°

Kunikuzushi stepped upon a beautiful forest, there were pink sakura trees and orange-red maple trees. it's so spectacular especially when in sunsets, he wandered about the place. When he found the largest tree as he ventures deeper into the dream-like forest, he was taken aback seeing a person. Sleeping under the sakura tree, he heard folktales before he entered the forest. How there was a being sleeping under the tree, unawaken and peaceful. There weren't any dangerous beast near them, as if warding off the evil spirits away from wreaking havoc in such place. The village was far but not too far away, it was a peaceful one where children can laugh freely and where old folks will stay for the tranquil scenery.

He saw there was a fresh flower crown been placed on your head, it seems like the children had visited you first. You were unconsciously in high alert to danger but sensing his presence awakens you for some reason. Your eyes slowly opens, still droopy from that long sleep. He saw how ethereal you are, your pupils were star shaped just like those from Khaen'riah. What are you?

°~⭐~°

Kunikuzushi laid under the stars, the dark sky covered by galaxies. Twisting his head to the side he sees you humming with your eyes close, slowly he went toward you. Laying his head onto your lap, you didn't mind one bit. Playing with his hair as he succumb into dreamland, this dream where nightmare are kept away. He finally felt comforted and loved by someone, knowing your origin he felt that he's finally not alone. You who was searching for your name, simply saying you have forgotten it.

"Hey, Star.. Did you finally remembered your name?" He asked.

"No, no I haven't.. I don't think I was given a name either, my name... Is just a number.." Solemnly replying to his question.

"Then, can I name you?" His eagerness is so cute, you smiled at him softly. "Of course, Kuni." You can see his eyes lit up. "Then, how about (Y/N)? I'm sure it suits you!" You chuckle at his adorableness, rolling the name that he's given you with your tongue. "(Y/N).. I like it." Your voice is so calm but he saw it on your face and eyes, how soft and eager it turns just because he gave you a name.

Kunikuzushi pulled you into a hug, you were taken aback by it.. Giggling as you hug him back too, enjoying this starry night filled with galaxies. You both traveled together, fought together and all the good times. Yet you knew, the abyss is trying to find you. Your body held something precious to them, your core. The element in it can awaken that of a god, they need your core to accomplish their mission and that is to overthrow the Heavenly Principles.

Knowing how precious and how much you cared for Kuni, you could not bring yourself to stay with him. For his safety and yours

"Kuni.. I might have to go far away.."

"What? Why!? I thought you wouldn't leave me! Just like the others."

You could feel something broke in you, it's your 'heart'. Kuni's tear is something so beautiful yet it pains you whenever it happens, cupping his face and wiping his tears with your thumbs.

"Kuni, it's alright.. Just promise me this okay.." Your eyes gentle as it can be. Giving him a heart shape necklace, it has a white star in its middle that glows like a steady heartbeat. It thumps in his hand, it was a gift from you, a heart that was apart of you. He knows it because the metal chunks on your chest was missing for a bit, you gave him a piece of you so that he won't ever feel so lonely and it was also a temporary parting gift.

"When you are strong enough, you'll come and seek for me. Just like how I'll come and find you." hugging him close to you, feeling his tears soak through the haori that he brought just for you. you broke the hug and place your forehead against his, whispering his name

"My Kunikuzushi, I'll always remember you even when the world decides to forget you."

Kissing his nose and seeing the mechanical heart beats faster, just as his face got redder. Chuckling before pecking him on the lips, "Goodbye for now, my one."

•~🍀~•

Scaramouche met you again, but this time.. You're not by his side, you were by Traveler's side. Yet you still look up to him in a longing way, if he isn't inside the robot right now they would've seen how his face was contorted sadness and complication. He misses you, he longed for you but why do you have to be far from him?

Why are you still in front of him yet so far away from him at the same time?

He doesn't know either, maybe it's because the heart you gave to him was stolen away from him. Once again, he felt like he lost both you and his heart when he was woken up from the slumber Dottore put him in, he knew Dottore took it from him and forcefully tried to take it back but failed to. That blue haired vermin said that this thing is pointless, it doesn't hold any meaning whatsoever, only a hindrance of the past. Yet whenever Dottore tries to drill those words into Scaramouche's brain, it doesn't work. He himselves didn't know why but he believes that you would still find him either way yet still couldn't help with the feeling of loosing such important thing to him.

When he fell down from his giant mechagod body, his gaze was fixated on you but it was dull and tired. Your eyes were in a frenzied state, "Kuni!" You screamed his name as you run full speed to catch him from touching the ground. The stones scraps your legs as you slid down from the impact but you didn't care, atleast he's in your arms again. Holding him close to you whilst tearful sobs of his name falls out of your mouth, apologies and comforts words. Nahida places her hand on your shoulder, Traveler and Paimo looks at you in pity.

•~❤️~•

When Scaramouche erased himselves from the Irminsul, Traveler was panicked. Looking through the stories, asking people and finallly, they ask you.

"(Y/N) do you remember who you gave this to?" Dangling the necklace you made for Kunikuzushi a long time ago.

"Huh? This is...?" You tried to remember where but it felt like a missing puzzle, something wasn't right.. Your head suddenly throbbed from the unrecognisable feeling, "ouch.." Traveler and Paimon quickly makes sure you're alright when you suddenly hold your head. "It's okay just follow us." Traveler pulls you together with them.. Confused but you still comply anyways.

You met someone, well more like a puppet just like you but somehow.. It felt nostalgic, you didn't know why but your instinct told you to stay near him. You felt shy, grabbing a little bit of his sleeves he quickly turns to you with a smile "Yes?" You ask him in a soft tone "Can I... Hold onto you for a while?" He looks surprised but quickly replaced with a bashful red face, immediately saying yes. Clasping your hands together with him as you both walked together to the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

•~❤️~•

When the both of you got your memories back, he froze for a moment. "(Y/N).." He slowly walks towards you, "I'm sorry.." he looks down while holding your hands. Cupping his face just like how you always do whenever he's sad, you kiss his forehead. "It's fine, Kuni. You've been through a lot so I understand." your voice is so warm and so affectionate just for him. he felt himself melting into your hold, "I promised that I would find you my one. I did now didn't I?" your teasing smile caused him to soften too.

Placing the necklace on him again, his heart is now back with him just like how you came back for him. He could never keep his hard persona whenever you're around, he melts onto your presence just like a candle. Eventhough you gave him a heart, you are still the one that he will always claim to be where his heart truly lies in. You are everything to him and he would never ask for more.

He gave you a part of himselves, just like you gave him a part of yourselves. A heart.

-The End-

#genshin impact #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact kunikuzushi #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #hurt/confort

[theseveredspirit]

Well... It looks like we won't be seeing The Ahsoka, Sabine & Shin Stranded on Peridea Arc for the next 2-3 years...

And with this part of the fandom dimmering down a bit...

I have no choice...

*Cracks Knuckles*

I'm gonna TRY to write a continuation/novelisation of S1 with all of the knowledge of Star Wars that I have!😤 (Tags are what it'll be for the story)

I'm hoping i'll pull though this with the spare time I have!

#ahsoka series #sabine wren #shin hati #wolfwren #star wars #ahsoka #baylon skoll #huyang #Peridea #Maw Galaxy #Angst #Hurt/Confort #Slowburn #Forcebond

[dark-angel-of-muses]

Little Comforts for @breannasfluff

Wing Au for Linked Universe

Twilight sniffed the air again, annoyed as he trotted through the dense brush as a wolf. Wild had once again wandered off, and the magpie had a terrible habit of finding the most difficult-to-find nooks and crannies to shove himself into. Logically, he knew it was a good survival instinct honed by his adventure, but every time he had to go fish his cub out from under a bush or in a hole that was too small to count as a cave, it took hours.

It didn't help that Wild moved erratically, obviously having zig-zagged to check out every cool mushroom or insect that caught his eye. This meant, naturally, that his trail looped back over itself and was so incomprehensible that Twilight wasn't sure if he was running in circles at some points.

When he finally heard the telltale beeps of the Sheikah slate signaling Wild nearby, he internally groaned in relief, immediately shifting back to Hylian. His cub had perched himself up on a ledge right under the overhang of a cliff. Near impossible to spot if it wasn't for the unnatural noises coming from the tech in his hands.

Twilight beat his wings to help him get up to Wild. It was awkward, Four or Hyrule were much better at controlled vertical movement, but his cub had him trained on flying in tight spaces and odd directions. His wings were too big to get to Wild's little alcove while open. So he overshot to the top of the cliff so he could snap them close and climb down.

He had been mentally poring over of ways to admonish his cub, some other way to deliver the "Don't Go Hiding Without Telling Someone" Lecture that went through one ear and out the other, but on his trip to the top of the cliff, he had spotted something that paused his annoyed train of thought. Wet tracks had been clearly visible across Wild's cheeks, and his eyes were unfocused and hazy.

All thoughts of annoyance fled to be replaced by worry. Was his cub ok, did he remember something, was he hurt, was he safe? If he could reach his cub as a wolf, he would transform just to provide the comfort of a furry body laying across Wild's lap. As it stood, his Hylian form would have to do.

As he swung down from the cliff's overhang, he made sure to move as slowly as he could, as not to spook his protégé. It was clear Wild had seen him and knew he was coming, because the cub had set down the slate and was staring at the ground, looking guilty. Ah, so maybe Twilight's lectures had set in. It wasn't satisfying to see that, not when it was causing guilt to fall over his cub's face as he tried to stifle his tears.

"I'm sorry." Wild's wings were beginning to curl around him, blocking out the world on instinct. "I couldn't- Sky was talking about his Goron friend and then all of a sudden I remembered Daruk and I don't know why it hurt so much so I tried to take a walk but nothing was helping so I tried to look at Zelda's pictures to remember but it hurts-t'" Wild's feathers were poofing, raised as he started working himself into hysterics.

Twilight placed a gentle hand on the top of Wild's wing and pushed it away. With anyone else, they were liable to be punched as Wild snapped his wings open when startled and upset, but Twilight had enough practice to know to make comforting little growls and firm yet gentle pressure that slowly coaxed him out of his shell.

"It's OK to grieve, we've all lost someone." As Twilight pushed away Wild's wings, he crawled into the space next to the magpie. On instinct, Wild pushed forward to bury his face in his mentor's shoulder. Twilight wrapped his wing around Wild in a practiced way while bringing a hand up to run through Wild's distressed feathers in a soothing motion.

He spared a glance over Wild's shoulder, and tightened his hold on his cub when he saw the photo of the five champions, all startled as the goron hugged them close. Twilight knew Wild's pain intimately. When trying to find comfort in a memory suddenly leads it to hurt all the worse. He had days where memories of Midna's sass would help calm him from a storm, and others where it was the wind blowing in the hurricane.

He cooed at his cub, scooching back into the alcove to lean his back against the wall and firmly take the magpie in his arms. He'd give the others a signal that he found Wild soon, his raptor call could stretch for a mile around, but he would wait until his cub was settled. 

After all, by the way his breathing was starting to even and feathers rested from their upset state, it was clear that they were going to be okay.

#linked universe #wing au #hurt/confort #this probably ends to abruptly but k wanted to get it out before totk reaches my house ok #fic

[a-pair-of-iris]

Noche de Paz

By Aris

"Se me olvidaron las papas". Manuel vuelve tarde del trabajo en la víspera de navidad odiándose a sí mismo por olvidar comprar una bolsa de papas duquesa para la cena. Va harto de todo y de todos, pero al llegar a casa recuerda que la vida no es tan mala, ya no. Oneshot Ecuchi, 2.114 palabras ao3

«Se me olvidaron las papas», seguía recriminándose Manuel, agarrado firmemente al pasamanos sobre su cabeza para que los tambaleos del vagón entre las interminables curvas de las vías, los frenazos nerviosos del conductor, o los empujones de la gente que se apretujaba con bolsas y cajas de regalos intentando abrirse paso al interior no acabaran por tirarlo al piso.

Lo estuvo pensando toda la semana: ir a comprar una bolsa apenas saliera del trabajo, pero entre las demandas y prisas previas a días festivos y la locura de fin de año que se apoderaba del mundo lo olvidó por completo. Todos los días.

Entonces ahí estaba, la tarde-casi-noche del veinticuatro de diciembre camino a casa desde el trabajo, y sin papas duquesas en la mano o en el refrigerador. Consideró la posibilidad de pasarse al super a ver si de milagro quedaba alguna solitaria y despreciada bolsita al fondo de los congeladores, entre las croquetas de garbanzos y not-pollo, pero conocía demasiado bien la naturaleza de sus conciudadanos como para hacerse ilusiones. Aparte que a esas alturas ya estarían correteando a todos fuera del recinto, apagando la música y luces y escondiendo a los señores que cortaban el queso y la carne. Así que debía hacerse a la idea de que no habría papas duquesa para la cena de navidad.

Una señora le pisoteó los pies en su arremetida para hacerse con un asiento vacío y Manuel se tragó las ganas de hacer algo más que mirarla feo. Ya estaba bastante cabreado como para empeorarlo peleándose con una vieja en el metro. Solo quería llegar a su casa y que el día se acabara. Que las fiestas y el año se acabaran de una vez.

Estaba harto, y todo era culpa de recursos humanos, por dejarlo sin aguinaldo y luego hacerlo cubrir el turno para que sus compañeros con hijos pudieran salir con “la familia”. Como si él no tuviera una de esas. Realmente, las infografías del departamento de inclusión las tenían de adorno en los muros… En fin, la cosa es que iba harto, sopeado y apestoso por el calor de Santiago, en un vagón repleto de gente igual de apestosa, enojada e histérica por sus compras de último minuto, e iba a llegar a su casa con todo ese enojo y desprecio pegado al cuerpo a ponerle mala cara a Francisco y a su cena sin papas duquesa. Y más molesto se sentía. Porque Panchito no se merecía ser el recipiente de su frustración y mal humor. No cuando los idiotas de recursos humanos ya le habían arruinado a su novio el fin de semana familiar en la casa de playa de Rodrigo y Fernanda del que había estado hablando las últimas semanas.

A diferencia suya, a Francisco sí le hacían ilusión estas fechas y las esperaba con entusiasmo y gran dedicación, vestigios de su crianza en una mezcla de la más pura liturgia católica y propaganda gringa. Y es que Manuel nunca acabó de tragarse ese discurso de “paz y amor” y “el espíritu de la navidad” que vendían las películas al por mayor de Hallmark, si no hasta que pudo pasar las fiestas en casa de los Burgos. Dejando de lado los rezos y lecciones bíblicas gratuitas, la vida familiar de su entonces mejor amigo apareció ante él como todo eso que había deseado tener mientras crecía, y no podía negar que sintió un poco -o más bien mucha- envidia al presenciar en vivo y en directo la suerte que tenían esos pocos niños que crecían en familias funcionales. Para Francisco, la navidad eran luces de colores y cantos junto al pesebre; juegos y risas correteando con sus hermanos por la casa; largas pláticas decorando el árbol o las galletas y tartas que horneaba su papá; enormes, alegres y bulliciosas reuniones familiares repletas de cariño y una armoniosa coexistencia que acababa con todos esperando la siguiente oportunidad de estar juntos. Para Manuel, significaba días eternos en la tensión constante de esperar a que algo saliera mal y todo le explotara en la cara; sombrías cenas en frío silencio y un nudo en la garganta que le dificultaba tragar el insípido pollo asado o lo que sea que Rayén consiguiera luego de salir tarde del trabajo; subirle el volumen a la tele para aplacar el sonido de los gritos y portazos a su espalda; sonrisas forzadas para una fotografía que le recordaría por siempre lo miserable que se sentía en ese momento; dormirse escuchando el llanto ahogado de su madre en la otra habitación y la pesada ausencia del innombrable. Claro que había algunas pocas cosas que valía la pena recordar, como la manito de su hermana que se aferraba firmemente a la suya en un gesto de mutuo aliento mientras caminaban por las calles iluminadas compartiendo un helado; las pequeñas lucecitas de colores danzando lentamente entre las tiras de plástico verde del árbol de navidad que lo hacían sentir en calma; las doradas y humeantes bolitas en el tazón de cristal al centro de la mesa en casa de su tía que se deshacían sin esfuerzo en su boca…

Las puertas se abrieron y Manuel forzó su salida hasta alcanzar las escaleras eléctricas y la calle. El aire arriba era un poco menos sofocante, y la leve brisa que se formaba debajo de los árboles de la plaza le ayudaba en la tarea de disipar esa inoportuna corriente de pensamiento. «Todo eso está en el pasado».

En su breve y lento paseo por el barrio también se distrajo mirando las pocas casas que se habían molestado en colgar decoraciones para la vista de los transeúntes. La mayoría de sus vecinos compartía su escaso entusiasmo por sumarse al espectáculo público, salvo un par que parecía odiar tanto al resto como para intentar provocarles un ataque epiléptico. Seguro había algo al respecto en el reglamento. Para cuando alcanzó el final del pasaje se encontraba mucho más relajado y se permitió un momento antes de entrar para admirar su casa desde la calle.

«Es bonita», pensó. Chica, y no llama mucho la atención, pero es bonita, con un suave color crema y marcos oscuros que hacían juego con la reja. Francisco había colgado unas guirnaldas con muérdagos en las cornisas y una corona de hojas en la puerta. Una cascada de tenues luces amarillentas cayendo del techo y un puñado de estacas que simulaban copos de nieve en las jardineras iluminaban la fachada y a la virgencita que Manuel poco a poco había aprendido a querer. Algo sutil y discreto, porque sabía que a él no le agradaban la pompa y las pistas de aterrizaje, y mucho menos querría tener gente pegada a la reja sacando fotografías o historias para Instagram.

Apenas deslizó la llave dentro de la cerradura del portón, la Negra levantó la cabeza y comenzó a mover la cola desde su camita junto a la puerta. Manuel no podía evitar hablarle como bebé cuando hacía esas cosas.

—Hola, mi niña ¿Me estaba esperando? ¿O es que hizo una maldad y me la tiraron pa’ fuera?

La perrita solo agitó más su cola en respuesta, haciendo que su trasero la acompañara. Manuel no escondió la sonrisa al verla. Mientras él volvía a poner el seguro su mascota finalmente se levantó de la cama estirándose perezosamente y fue a pegar la nariz contra la madera de la puerta, esperando a que le abrieran.

—Adelante señora. —dijo acompañándola finalmente dentro de la casa.

De inmediato lo golpeó el olor a especias y vino blanco del pollo que Francisco tenía cocinándose en el horno, la canela y jengibre de las galletas de hace unos días ya completamente opacadas.

Yo quisiera poner a tus pies

Algún presente que te agrade señor…

Hay un villancico resonando en toda la planta, Manuel supone que de esa lista navideña que armaron entre los dos en Spotify y en la que agregó el soundtrack de Duro de Matar solo para molestar. La sala y comedor están iluminados únicamente por las luces del árbol y la aldea navideña sobre el estante con la loza buena, algo de claridad de la cocina colándose en la habitación y desde donde también le llegaba la voz de Francisco cantando, con esa voz suave y quebrada hecha para los boleros y valses tristes que tanto le gustan al castaño.

Más tú ya sabes que soy pobre también

Y no poseo más que un viejo tambor…

Hay algo en la canción que imprime cierto acento a la voz de su novio, será la convicción cristiana o esa emoción profunda que solo despiertan las memorias felices, que Manuel llega a sentir el nudo en la garganta y humedad en los ojos por la ilusión nostálgica que le provoca escucharlo. Pero es una buena sensación esta vez, que lo calma, así como las diminutas luces titilantes del árbol a su costado.

«Todo está bien ahora. Ya está bien».

—¡Oh! Bebé ¿Y tú cuándo entraste?

La intromisión de la perrita detuvo el canto de Francisco y Manuel, ya habiéndose sacudido suficiente de la pesadumbre que acarreaba del mundo exterior y su forzoso paseo por los recuerdos, decidió que era hora de unírseles en la cocina.

—Fui yo. —dijo, arrastrando los pies hasta Francisco para darle un rápido beso en la mejilla antes de desplomarse contra su ancha espalda y abrazarse a su cintura por debajo del delantal de cocina. Siempre era un gusto pegársele así, incluso con el olor a ajo, pimienta o lo que fuera—. ¿Me la tenías castigada o qué onda?

—Claro que no. Estuvo casi todo el día saliendo y entrando hasta que quiso quedarse afuera. Supongo que estaba más agradable que aquí junto a los hornos.

Comenzaron a mecerse lentamente en un suave vaivén, la cabeza de Francisco inclinada levemente sobre la de Manuel que descansaba apoyada junto a su cuello.

—¿Cómo estuvo el día? —preguntó Francisco luego de un rato así acaramelados.

—Jum, pudo ser peor. —Admitió, sin ánimos de ahondar en más detalles—. ¿Y tú?

—Estuvo tranquilo. Entregué temprano los pedidos que me faltaban y pasé a recoger la encomienda de tu mamá luego de almorzar con mis papás, antes de que salieran a lo de Rodri. Dejé los regalos que nos dieron debajo del árbol.

—¿Seguro que no quieres ir con ellos? Podemos buscar pasajes para mañana temprano. —Ofreció nuevamente.

—Que sí, Manu. Vienes llegando del trabajo, estás cansado. Y yo también lo estoy después de hornear todo el día. Esta vez de verdad prefiero que nos quedemos aquí, tal vez ver una película en el sillón los tres y dormir hasta tarde mañana. Con los niños gritando y dando vueltas allá será imposible. Ya los veremos para año nuevo. —aseguró Francisco, frotando su mejilla contra la suya para acabar de tranquilizarlo.

—Okey. —aceptó Manuel, depositando un par de besos en su cuello—. ¿Qué estás haciendo? —preguntó, por fin reparando en la bandeja frente a Francisco y las pelotitas que en ningún momento había dejado de hacer.

—Ah. También pasé al mercado luego de que me escribieras, pero no quedaba ninguna de las papas que querías, así que… uhm, las busqué en Youtube.

Manuel se lo quedó mirando un instante, luego a las bolitas en la bandeja y finalmente de nuevo a Francisco, una sonrisa cada vez más grande formándose en sus labios. Sí que podría llorar ahora.

—… Espero que estén buenas. —Dijo finalmente Francisco, algo nervioso por la insistente atención y la extraña mueca en el rostro del otro. Pero no le duró mucho luego de que su novio lo atacara a besos y acabó riendo por la efusividad y las cosquillas que le provocaban los labios y el aliento de Manuel sobre su piel.

—Te amo. Te amo tanto, tanto, tanto, tanto… —repetía Manuel una y otra vez.

—Y solo hacían falta unas papas jajaja.

Más tarde esa noche, mientras acababa lo último de la panacota con la cabeza de Francisco sobre su hombro, la Negra mordisqueando uno de sus premios entre sus pies y el rostro verde y peludo de Jim Carrey en la pantalla de la televisión, Manuel miró el bonito centro de mesa sobre el mantel rojo, los platos verdes y cubiertos dorados que de alguna forma se veían bien juntos; miró el árbol con sus lucecitas danzando lentamente, así como lo hicieron con Francisco poco antes de servir la cena bajo una canción estilo jazz que ninguno de los dos tenía idea de cómo bailar; miró a Francisco estirar la mano disimuladamente para alcanzarle un trocito de asado a su perrita y la cola que se meneaba alegremente; y se sintió contento.

Eso era todo lo que siempre había querido. Una noche tranquila, y paz.

#latin hetalia #ecuchi #lh: chile #lh: ecuador #fanfic #our post #our posts #domestic fluff #hurt/confort #Family dynamics #family issues #Manuel tiene traumas #Pancho es un ser de luz #lo terminé algo tarde pero es con amor

[luxshine]

Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: RRR (2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem Characters: Alluri Sitarama Raju, Komaram Bheem, Jenny (RRR 2022), Lacchu (RRR 2022), Ventakeswarulu (RRR 2022), Scott Buxton, Catherine Buxton, Malli (RRR 2022) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/confort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

A child was stolen from their tribe, and taken to the British's Home. However, this is not the child you're thinking about. This happened 20 years before Malli was taken, and the Child was Alluri Rama Raju.

How did that little difference changed his life, and his fated meeting with Komuram Bheem? Well, read to find out!

#Rambheem #RRR #Implied/reference Child abuse #Emotional/Psychological Abuse #Hurt/confort #Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence #Rama Raju #Komuram Bheem #RRR fanfic

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Hubris

Author: @ironicveghead

Rating/Warning: Teen and Up Audience, Torture, Kidnapping

Chapter Count: 2/2

Description: Chrissy Munson is missing from the celebrations of a successful Chicago concert for Corroded Coffin. It seems someone has taken an interest in her recent name change.

Tags: Alternate Universe- future fic, established relationship, Hurt/Confort, Kidnapping, BAMF Chrissy Cunningham, BAMF Eddie Munson, Protective Eddie Munson, Don't mess with Chrissy and Eddie, Status: Completed, Multi-POV, Alternating POV, Multiple-chapter, Multi-chapter

#Hurt/Confort #Kidnapping #BAMF Chrissy Cunningham #BAMF Eddie Munson #Protective Eddie Munson #Don't mess with Chrissy and Eddie #eddie and chrissy #eddie munson #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #hellcheer #stranger things #chrissy deserved better #munningham #eddsy #chreddie #Multi-POV #Alternating POV #Status: Completed #chrissy cunningham #Multiple-chapter #Multi-chapter #Alternate Universe- future fic #established relationship

[mara-xx217]

Night Terrors (SoW fic)

Gogat is tiring to care for, but Hûra isn't anywhere near ready to give up, not even when he gets... violent.

Warnings: Mentions of Self-Harm, Shitty Coping Mechanisms, Guilt and Self-Hatred, Nightmares/Night Terrors and Sleep Deprivation

   Resting was a new source of anxiety for both of them. Gogat’s restlessness slowly increased over the months that he traveled with Hûra Marrow Seer, though this was no fault of the shaman or in any way connected to his actions. No, of course it wasn’t him! It was… The fault was Gogat’s and Gogat’s alone.

   As it always is…

   The fear, the nightmares he suffered were as debilitating as they were terrifying. What if his new Master finally sees him for what he is…? A fuck up. That’s all he was- all he’ll ever be- a massive, useless fuck up that no one wants or even needs… Gogat can see it all over Hûra’s face; he’s annoyed. Disappointed. He hates him… Just like-

   Merely thinking about any of this makes Gogat pick up his feet and put as much distance between him and Hûra Marrow Seer as he can without appearing as though he’s abandoning him. Because he would never! Not ever… Just enough so his Master wouldn’t hear his pathetic sobs or his child-like outbursts of rage as he breaks his knuckles and his brittle nails on the trunks of any trees unfortunate enough to be in his line of sight during such moments of weakness.

   Another moment of what should be rest, another fit of writhing and whimpering and whining that steadily evolves into Gogat screaming and clawing at nothing- sometimes himself, even. Hûra couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand it and he couldn’t stand to sit idly aside while this- while his lad fought for his life where he was alone and vulnerable and scared. Unafraid of the pup’s thrashing, Hûra grabs his wrists and begins to maneuver closer to him. 

    Gogat put up a fight. He always did whenever Hûra tried to wake him or prevent him from hurting himself. This time Hûra didn’t mind if he would be the one hurt. And he was. Two deep gashes on his chin, three elongated scratches on his left forearm, and three more much smaller on his right hand… they sting, but nearly as much as his eyes as he fought back his tears. It didn’t hurt, not really, anyways. Not as much as seeing such a young uruk struggling in what should be the most peaceful and self-intimate moments in one’s existence: sleep… 

   His violence is explosive, but always short lived. Gogat soon falls into restless, but immobile sleep. It was exhausting. Hûra was exhausted. His grip on the lad’s wrists slacks and his eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles. Out abusing trees again… and not taking care of himself while he’s at it. Hûra can’t be annoyed with Gogat. How many times have I broken my own hands in similar fits of rage and anguish? Too many. Lucky that his medical supplies are within arms reach… and that Ibranniz has decided to lounge across the pup’s legs. She always brings him comfort… us both, really. Hûra must reward her for being so gentle later…

   Gogat is awake before Hûra is able to even bring wrapping his fresh wounds. Perhaps it’s the nearness between them, but the lad is stunned silent. Then his eyes drift down to the shaman’s bloodied chin. And then his eyes were cast down as tangible shame and guilt choked him up from the inside. Gogat wished to crawl away- to not be so close- for he was ashamed and he was afraid. What will happen to him? How will he be punished…? It sent chills down his spine. Never, not once had he ever dreamed of laying hands on his Mast- on his previous Master. And him- Hûra? No, he cannot believe he would do something so- something so… so-…!

   He flinched as Hûra wiped away a stray tear that fell from his cheek with the length of his sleeve. Soft. Gentle. …soft? Gogat couldn’t believe it. No… it’s not real. He isn’t being comforted now, of all times. Not after he’s… Not now- Not… 

   “How are your hands, Gogat? You needn’t hide such things from me… I, too, was once that explosive and volatile pup that you are now. It will pass. It will get better.”

   He sagged in his elder’s arms. What…? His heart jumped into his throat and his blood pounded in his ears. That wasn’t- He wasn’t supposed to do that! He- He should have…! What? What should Hûra have done? Gogat doesn’t even know anymore. He’s boneless, like a pup fresh out of the vat and in the shaman’s lap with his caragor resting her chin on his lanky shins. He’s- He is just tired. And disappointed in himself. But… 

   Is it truly possible that Hûra was once like him, of all uruks? Would he lie to Gogat? His eyes drift to the older uruk’s face, and he looks down and smiles at him. It’s tired- exhausted, actually- but… he’s not angry…? Hûra gently smooths down Gogat’s hair. The lad wants to cry but bottles it up. He’s a fool, he’s an embarrassment and he’s an absolute bastard. He’s done enough damage for one night… He’ll- He’ll stay awake so Master can get some rest… Gogat pets Ibranniz on her velveteen nose. The bandaging on his knuckles is tight, but grounding.    I won’t sleep. I won’t fuck up anymore… I can’t fuck it up. Not this. Not this…

@space-arsonist, @sinick, @elvenmoans, @boozy-dwarf

#middle earth shadow of mordor #middle earth shadow of war #shadow of war #ocs #my ocs #spacearsonist’s ocs #hurt/confort

[encreboueuse]

Point de départ

Genres : Tranche de vie – Drame – Famille – Violence – Réaliste / One-shot Rating : +16 Résumé : La vie d’Angel Dust lorsqu’il était encore vivant, puis sa descente en enfer. Littéralement. Bonne lecture ! La première fois qu’Anthony avait été témoin de la mort de son père – de leur père – il avait été dévasté. C’était un monde – puant, ignoble, perverti et sanglant – qui s’écroulait. Il se…

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#+16 #Abus #Drame #Famille #Hazbin Hotel #Hurt/Confort #One-shot #Réaliste #Tranche de vie #Violence

[kingdom-stars]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Persona 5 Tactica - Persona 5

Rating: General audience

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts - Sexual abuse referenced

Relationships: Kasukabe Toshiro & Natsuhara Eri, Kasukabe Toshiro & Erina, Kasukabe Toshiro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts

Characters: Kasukabe Toshiro, Natsuhara Eri, Erina (Persona series), Phantom Thieves of Hearts

Summary: Late-night vents between two friends who went through a lot of shit

#p5 tactica #persona 5 tactica #toshiro kasukabe #eri natsuhara #eritoshi #Kinda(?) #This can be taken as platonic too #Do what you want #Traumatized Toshiro Kasukabe #This man needs a hug #He gets more than one yeii :D #persona 5 tactica spoilers #I warned #Hurt/confort #Erina: I'm your conscience! We don't talk a lot these days #Erina lives rent free in Toshiro's mind #Like a voice in his head or something(?)

[dia-oro]

day 45, my heart still hurt for the fanfic Wattpad erased with the author of the existence of internet….

#snape fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hurt/confort #struggles of a reader #I was looking for a little of confor fic and end with only hurt and a death author at Wattpad hands #Make Wattpad pay for this bloodbath of fanfic author in that hellhole please #Authorsdeservebetter #Readerstoo

[bbangi]

Baby, I'm Home !!

Reneé Rapp × Fem!Reader

Summary: Reneé comes back home after a day of recording the Mean Girls album and finds her girlfriend sick.

"Baby, I'm home!! " Reneé finally said after a long of recording on the studio for her new upcoming movie Mean Girls, Musical.

She waited a bit but no one answered, strange... she thought she was sure everything was okay after you texted her asking for dinner, which she brought to you.

" Hello, love!! " You said, finally showing up in the living room where the blonde was.

" Well, hi baby! " She excitedly said, hugging you to give you a kiss, but you quickly moved your head, so she kissed your cheek instead of your lips.

She caught your hand noticing how cold it was, Renee brought you to the kitchen and sat you at the table so she could prepare the dinner.

" Oh! Neé... I don't want to eat anything. I am sorry... " Y/N quietly mumbled, feeling extremely guilty for making her buy the food she was craving.

Reneé turned around with furrowed eyebrows. " But you were craving fish and chips... what is wrong, baby? " the blonde asked, putting her hand on your forehead like she knew you were feeling funny.

" It's just..." Tears started to weal up on your eyes." I've started to feel sick as soon as I stopped messaging you... I don't know what is happening, and I don't feel good "

" Oh, baby! It's fine. Why didn't you say anything to me? " Reneé calmly said, hugging you, finally feeling how you were hot, almost burning. " Now that I am looking directly at you, I can see how pale you are. Let's go to our room, Baby. "

" I'll take care of you, my little baby," Reneé said as she laid you on the bed and kissed you forehead. " You'll be fine. I promise you "

" I love you "

" I love you too, baby ."

#renee rapp #reneé rapp x fem!reader #confort #hurt/comfort #blurb

[yeenybeanies]

i wrote a series of threadfics with winged!soap! part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

now with a short prequel! part 1 | 2

#cod #call of duty #ghostsoap #simon riley #john mactavish #hyena art #winged!soap #his wings are very large 🥰 #two different flavors of hurt/confort 😍

[motianz]

Mo seeking comfort in He tian

I need you to

#the picture with the fish is Mo getting the idea to use He tians shirt before going to fight she li #using he tian to give him strength/confort #and the ones where he's sick are him trusting and letting Ht take care of him when he's hurt #trust me this compilation makes sense in my head #i just love it when Mo wants Ht to take care of him #19 days #tianshan #mo guan shan

[imaginativeworks]

Imagine Your OTP

Person A: (with tears falling down their face) “You often call me ‘your star’ but will you be there to bring me back from the brink before I turn into a blackhole?”

Person B: (looks deeply into their eyes and without hesitations replies): “Always!” (Pulling them into their arms)

#imagine your otp #otp imagines #otp imagine #otp prompts #otp prompt #imagine your ship #otp #imagines #imagine #prompts #prompt #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #dialogue #short dialogue #sweet #hurt/comfort #conforting #metaphor #Together #caring

[mysticsublimeperson]

<< Part 3

Merlin always has slept quietly. He didn't move much or snore, he tended to move when he was settling in, but once he found a good spot he slept like a corpse. Arthur always found that a bit funny, that he was so full of movement and life during the day and so still while sleeping.

He also found it a bit infuriating, he never really wanted to be the clingy one, it was a bit embarrassing to him at first, but Merlin never denied him, not even asleep. Arthur gravitated towards Merlin, not always a full on cuddle, sometimes that could be a bit overwhelming to Merlin, who had his spot perfectly climatized, but he always ended up having a point of contact.

Merlin found it "cute" and Arthur found that comment offensive. Merlin said that he didn't mind cuddling but that if he wanted to cuddle he needed to do it from the start, apparently Arthur was like a furnace (Arthur also found that comment offensive) and if Arthur suddenly hugged him in the middle of the night it made think there was a fire somewhere or he had developed a fever, Arthur promptly threw a boot a him.

Merlin also woke up slowly. Arthur found this really surprising. Merlin had a flexible schedule, which actually meant that he was practically enslaved. He could say anything about his job, but would never complain of the hours, he had to be there at 9 and out at 5 (not that he actually did it, but that's not the point). Merlin had the lab at the university, he had to be there at least 4 times a week, but the hours depend on the experiment, and then there was his non-profit which took most of his time. So even tho that pretty much from the moment that he woke up he was needed somewhere, Merlin always took his time to wake up.

Another shocking thing is, he never used alarm clock. Merlin woke up on time always, without help. Then he went back to sleep a couple of minutes more, or spent too much time preparing for the day, or didn't know what to do for breakfast so he froze up at the kitchen table thinking for 10 minutes... the thing is, Merlin woke up on time, but was always late.

That being said, one Arthur's favorite moments where those rare mornings he woke up first, and there was no rush, and he could see Merlin fight the wakefulness, rub his face to the pillow trying to find a cool spot, watch stretch and reach out for him. Merlin would open his eyes slowly and look for him, at him. And the way that he looked, like he was still dreaming, like Arthur was his dream. Nothing made him feel more loved, and full of love than that. It was so unrestrained, so pure.

He wanted that.

He wanted to be like that.

They didn't sleep together much, their schedule was sometimes incompatible, but when he could afford it, he stayed with Merlin, even tho it meant he had to bring a spare suit, and wake terribly early, and catch a cab, and be init for 45 minutes because of the morning traffic... just for the tiny possibility of watching Merlin wake up.

It's been almost three months since the chance of waking up next to Merlin became zero.

Arthur woke up sad, dreaming of Merlin by his side just to wake up alone in his flat, was increasingly difficult each day.

When they broke up, when Arthur accepted this, he couldn't actually imagine how ingrained Merlin was in his life. He had been there for him since (Merlin's) first day. He should have known.

Merlin was the biggest, best, and only choice Arthur had made. But he never actually committed, Merlin was his, but he could never be fully in Arthur's life. No matter that the life without Merlin was a life that he hated, he still was living it.

"I told you that yesterday was important, you knew that. And you choose him" Merlin had said.

Arthur had never seen that like a choice, never seen he actually had one. When his father talked he didn't expect an answer, so he never thought he could give one regardless. That day his father had entered his office and said that he had to a attend to a very important meeting that afternoon, Arthur tried to give options, suggested Leon as replacement, tried to tell his father that maybe he will arrive late or maybe leave early...

"Don't be difficult Arthur" Uther spoke dismissing his arguments "I don't care whatever plans you have, you have a responsibility to this company, to each and every employee and towards me. You are going to step up to the position of CEO sooner or later, you need to maintain your image, or it will reflect poorly on everyone"

Thinking back, he could not help but cringe to the condescending tone of his father. At that moment in his mind, it had seemed like a sound point, it had made sense, now all he could hear was the selfishness of it. In the end it hadn't even been a meeting, it was a fucking cocktail, a very exclusive cocktail for a gallery opening that Uther was looking to collaborate with (to put expensive artwork in his expensive buildings). Coincidentally a lot of his friends and colleagues were there, and their daughters.

Every time he thought about it he had to fight the urge to hit his head on a wall, repeatedly. He really thought that his father had his, and his employees best interests at heart.

He regrets a lot.

He hated that he hurt Merlin, he hated that it had ended up in this situation. But at the same time, he didn't hurt Merlin only that time, he had been hurting him, always without noticing, always without caring to notice.

Merlin never slept at his flat, even tho it was much more comfortable and spacious, and it was more or less the same distance to his lab. But Arthur hadn't wanted Merlin to be seen leaving his flat in case de doorman told his father or worse, that his father showed up unprompted one day and watched Merlin in his flat. So Merlin never slept there, no matter how late it was Merlin always went home, and told his doorman that he was his PA, not to rise suspicion.

He was an asshole.

And Merlin didn't deserve that.

So they needed this, yeah.

He needed time to fix it, to make himself worthy.

But he didn't know how to do that, and he was starting to feel hopeless.

It had been three months, and although in the moment he had offered Merlin to cut off Uther from his life for good in that moment, he was thankful that Merlin did not take it.

He didn't really want to leave his job.

He liked his job.

Well, he liked part of his job. It was just the expectation, and the need to make connections...

And well his father was tough, and definitely not perfect, in fact very much flawed, but it was his father. He loved him, and cut him off seemed like too much.

What could he do? He had been stuck in this point since the break up.

He needed help.

But the person who was always for him in this situations was Merlin, strangely wise occasionally.

He pulled out his phone. His friend were good and true, but the topic of Uther was complicated, most people couldn't understand why he would want to keep that relationship alive. It was also a really vulnerable topic, and he wasn't known for his heart to heart. Arthur wasn't good with feelings.

He keeps scrolling.

Gwen might understand but she was Merlin's best friend, he didn't want her to feel like she was switching sides or something, Merlin also needed someone.

The he stopped at a name at his contact page.

He didn't really know if it was a good idea. It most probably wasn't but he didn't really have any other options.

What does he have to lose?

He needed to find a solution to this, he missed Merlin, and he wanted his friend back.

He tapped the call button and waited.

Worst case scenario, he kept going like that and slowly died while Merlin tried to redo his life. Unacceptable.

"Hello?" the confusion was evident as well as the weariness, but, well, she still answered "Arthur?"

"Hello, Morgana"

#fanfic #au #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #merlin x arthur #idea #arthur pendragon #fanfiction #merlin #merthur #hurt/confort? #hurt/comfort #morgana #fuck uther #king arthur #merlin bbc #uther pendragon #merlinfic #modern au #breakup #hurt!merlin #hurt!arthur #regret #but like growth #merthur au #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #drabble