#hurt/comfort fic

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #buckybarnes #marvel imagines #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #protective bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #hurt/comfort fic #james buchanan barnes #beefy bucky barnes #theleggymeggy fics #fluffy #heavy angst #I write so much sadness I swear im okay #thank you for requesting!

[phantom-playdough]

Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x GN!Reader: “I choose you, Hobie.”

I made this because I love me some hurt/comfort fics and there are basically none for Hobie. So, if no one else will do it, I will damn it lmao Hope y'all enjoy some sweet and adorable hurt/comfort.

TW's: Angst with a happy ending, Reader has hardcore insecurities, depression (No suicidal ideations, just sadness) and self-deprecating thoughts.

Tissues littered the floor of Y/n's bedroom, thrown anywhere but the actual trashcan. Not that Y/n could really bring themself to care; they'd clean it up later. They stopped crying what feels like hours ago. Now, Y/n was just sitting down on the floor in front of their bed and sat there, lost in thought.

However, they were brought out of that state when they heard their window open. Y/n didn't even need to look up to know who it was. Afterall, most humans could not climb 15 stories to reach their apartment.

"'Ey, Y/n. You havin' a tissue party?" Hobie said, taking off his mask and looking around the bedroom.

Y/n didn't have it in them to croak out a response. So, they didn't try. But that was all it took to clue Hobie in to know that something was wrong.

Without a word, Hobie sat down beside Y/n on the floor and wrapped an arm around their shoulders. Even though Y/n felt so empty, they couldn't help but take in Hobie's cologne. Somehow it suited him.

"You alright there, (Nickname)?" Hobie asked, despite knowing the answer. Of course, he knew. The two of them had known each other for so long now that this type of thing was as obvious as a person's nose.

He and Y/n knew each other after he saved them from a mugger. Hobie still remembers how after he knocked the mugger out, Y/n just said, "I like the spikes on your costume." It was definitely a strange response to have after getting save from a mugging, but it was good to know that this person had taste. At least, that was what Hobie thought in the moment.

"Thank you, cutie." Hobie said with a wink. He then swung off and may or may not have followed Y/n home to make sure they made it safely. At least, that was his defense whenever that was brought up.

The two of them became super close after that night. Which meant that Hobie was around whenever Y/n got a boyfriend. Hobie really tried to be supportive. Like, really tried. But as time went on, Hobie felt his concerns grow for Y/n as time had passed.

At first, the guy sounded pretty cool to Hobie when Y/n talked about him. He and Y/n were very close friends, similar to Hobie (Albeit for longer). Y/n gushed about the nice things they did with him. Clubbing, going to concerts occasionally, shopping dates, even just staying at home and chilling. Hobie didn’t seem to have many concerns at the beginning. (Even if he was jealous…)

But as time went forwards, Y/n’s boyfriend really seemed stubborn in hanging around other people instead of Y/n. He seemed really stubborn about going out clubbing when Y/n just wanted to stay at home. He seemed very stubborn about getting handsy. That one probably wouldn't have been that big of a deal. But what made it hard to handle was when Hobie met Y/n's boyfriend. The guy seemed very inclined on sucking Y/n's teeth in front of Hobie.

However, Y/n tried to cut their boyfriend slack whenever Hobie voiced his concerns to them. They knew him for a long time. Hobie knew that. But he gently pointed these problems out to his best friend. Y/n was well aware that they did not feel comfortable with what was going on in their relationship. So, they knew they had to voice their concerns.

That didn't go so well.

"Y/n. You're doing it again." Hobie said, a finger grazing his best friend's cheek.

"Huh?"

"You're spacing out on me. C'mon, what is it?" Hobie tried to keep his tone both firm but sweet.

Y/n sighed. "I went over to his apartment. To try and talk about how he has been acting lately. Try and tell him I think we needed to set up some ground rules, or something like that."

"But...?"

"But he... had someone else over. She answered the door. Said that her boyfriend was in the shower."

Hobie's eyes went as wide as moons. The level of fury he felt at hearing this could NOT be understated. To think that someone who was lucky enough to have Y/n as their partner and go and ruin both that perfect and amazing chance as well as break Y/n's heart in the process.

Who could even come close to competing with Y/n? No one, in Hobie's mind.

"Maybe it's for the best." Y/n grumbled out, tearing Hobie out of his fury. "I mean, I was just stupid for thinking he thought more highly of me. But why would he?"

Hobie felt his self-control slipping, but at this point, it gone. "Y/n," He began, grabbing Y/n's chin to make them look at him and make sure they wouldn't turn away. "Listen to me, will ya? That moron was stupid for not seeing you as a gem. ‘Cause that's what you are. You don't have a Scooby-doo about how amazing you are. How captivating you are. He is fucking stupid for trying to replace you when he can’t. You deserve so much better than that crock of shit."

“I really don’t, Hobie.” Hobie was just about to object, but Y/n yanked their head away. Effectively cutting his comeback off and speaking lies to Hobie’s sensitive ears. “Let me asking you something, Hobie. Did I turn him into a jerk or am I just plain dumb? Or better yet, both?”

“Knock it off, Y/n. These fuckin’ planks (idiots) lie. And they’re good at it, too. They are good at pretending like they care and that they love you. Guys like that twit also manipulate others. He knew you both were friends for a long time. He took you places, gave you things. Please don’t hate me for saying this babe, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he said something fucking stupid like how he did all of this for you and you couldn’t do those creepy things for him.”

“I feel dumb I didn’t see it.”

“Love, almost no one sees the signs when you fall for someone you’ve known for years. Plus, he gave you so much. Good laughs, good moments, good memories…I didn’t have a Scooby-doo, for fucks sake! So, if you wanna be gutted (upset) at yourself you should be with me too.”

Y/n tried to ignore the way the nicknames like babe or love caused a flush to flood their face. The way their heart jumped just a little too much when they heard that. Y/n made the mistake of looking back at Hobie’s gorgeous face. The way his eyes held a serious look. Y/n gathered that he wasn’t angry at them. It was more their ex.

They looked away to avoid looking at Hobie’s pierced and sexy lips, as well as avoid letting him see the tears in their eyes. “Maybe it’s karma.” Hobie was barely a beat away from interrupting. But Y/n put a finger up. “No, shut up. Let me explain.” Hobie literally bit his tongue to do so.

Y/n took a breath. “I knew at the time that I liked him. I did. But I…liked someone else more. I just knew it wouldn’t work with him because he probably wouldn’t want to be held down and backwards. He would probably want to swing free. So, I thought that my ex would be enough. Again, I did like him. He literally confessed to me when I brought up that I that I thought wasn’t good enough for…someone else. He said I was more than enough for him. So, I just decided that I could make it work. Especially because he was great in the beginning. But maybe it’s karma for replacing my true feelings with something I wasn’t a hundred percent invested in.”

Hobie felt his heart break for what felt like the millionth time. “Do I know this other mate of yours?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“Like the back of your web-throwing hand.” Y/n said. They inhaled for a moment or two. “He’s you.”

“Wait, what?”

“He’s you, Hobart Brown. I literally hinted it just a second ago.”

“How? When?”

“When I said that you would rather swing free.”

“Well, how was I supposed to pick up on that?! That’s super subtle, (Nickname).” Hobie defended, making Y/n laugh. “You seriously thought I wouldn’t want to be with you? I hinted at it too, just now by the way!!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just said you’re captivating and amazing. That the fucking dumbass who kissed you with more teeth than lips when I was around was stupid for thinking someone else could compete with you. Unlike you, I wasn’t subtle.”

“Literally everyone who cares about someone else would say that.” Y/n deadpanned. “But…thanks.” They said softly. They leaned on Hobie’s shoulder, curling their legs up close to their chest and snuggling into Hobie’s side. Hobie responded by putting a hand on their shoulder, squeezing it just a tad. Y/n then took it a step further, wrapping their arms around Hobie’s built waist.

“What now, punk?” Y/n asked quietly.

“What?”

“What now? Do you want to progress or not? I mean, you don’t believe in consistency. So, I kinda just assumed you didn’t have interest in anything related to romance.”

“Modern romance is a marketing scheme full of corruption from the people making chocolates and growing roses, plus the cunning bastards who look to find it.” Hobie took in a deep breath. “But…that doesn’t mean I don’t have interest in you.” Y/n heart was racing so fast it felt like they were about to travel through time. There was no way Hobie didn’t notice this. But luckily he didn’t comment on it. “If you want to try this, Y/n…I will. But if you don’t feel ready or comfortable, I won’t mind. You can be with any bloke you want. If you chose me, I’d be happy. But I’d say the same if you didn’t. So long as we don’t drift apart.”

Y/n took a while to respond, making Hobie worry. But once Y/n was ready to answer, they decided to answer without a word. They pulled their head off Hobie’s shoulder and kiss him on the smooth skinned cheek.

“I choose you, Hobie.”

#hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spider punk #sony spiderverse #i wrote this at 4am #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort fic

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Soothing Touch

Fandom: Anna Karenina

Pairing: Count Alexei Vronsky/GN!Reader (the two of them are married)

Summary: You had a bad day mentally and when your husband finds you, he helps you through it by just being with you.

Reader’s gender is not specified.

Notes: this was written in response to Flufftober’s Day 28 Prompt: Soothing Touch. @flufftober

I do not own Anna Karenina or Vronsky

Also, I should note this is my first time trying to write Vronsky.

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You didn’t know what was wrong, but today you just couldn’t focus. It was a bad day for you. You really wished your husband would come home soon. He always made you feel better, no matter what was going on in your head. He hated that you had days like this, but always loved being close to you and that’s what you needed.

You heard one of the doors close, but you didn’t get up or move from where you were sitting on the floor. It wasn’t long before you felt someone help you stand and helped you over to your bed. When you looked up, your day brightened immensely because looking down at you was your husband, Count Alexei Vronsky.

You smiled as you lifted your hand to his face. “You’re home,” you whispered.

“Of course, my love,” he replied softly. “I would never leave you long. I love you so much.”

He sat on the bed against the wall and asked, “will you join me?”

You moved up to him, before kissing him and sitting in between his legs. He held you to him with one arm around your waist and ran his fingers through your hair in a soothing way. It made you hum as you closed your eyes.

“I’m happy you’re home,” you told him. “I was having a bad day. You being here makes me feel better.”

“I’m happy to be able to make you feel better, my love,” he responded before kissing the top of your head.

————————————————————————————

Tagging: @vanessavampiaives

#anna karenina 2012 #anna karenina #count vronsky #alexei vronsky #alexei vronsky x reader #fluff #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort fic #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader

[byersbootyshorts]

Sweet Sorrow (S.R.)

Emily’s death effected the whole team, but it hit Spencer the hardest. And when he’s at his lowest, it’s you he comes running to.

MENTIONS OF DRUGS AND ADDICTION!!

Word Count: 1,878

Warnings: s6!Spencer, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, mentions of Emily’s ‘death’, Spencer crying, mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction, language

well this turned out deeper than I expected

It was 11pm when you heard your doorbell ring. It was awfully late for someone to be at your door, you thought, but you hadn’t planned on sleeping anytime soon anyway, so you decided to answer it. You got up off your couch and as you were walking to the door your doorbell rang again, followed by insistent knocking.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you shouted, annoyed at this person’s impatience.

You rolled your eyes as you reached the door, suddenly not in the mood for visitors anymore. But your mood shifted when you looked through the peephole and discovered who was outside your apartment.

“Oh my God, Spence,” you said, unlocking your door as fast as your fingers would allow. You flung the door open and took in the image in front of you. Spencer was standing in your doorway, his eyes red and puffy from crying. His whole body was vibrating under his large coat.

“Can I come in,” he mumbled after you’d been staring at him in shock for a bit too long.

“Yes, of course, sorry.” You quickly moved aside, allowing Spencer to enter your home. He slowly shuffled in, not daring to look up from the ground. You shut the door and walked over to comfort him by taking his hand in yours.

“Spencer, what’s wrong,” you asked, although your question was futile. You knew exactly what was wrong.

Ever since Emily’s passing none of the team had been the same. But Spencer was hit the hardest with grief. It wasn’t necessarily because they were the closest or because he missed her the most. Stuff like this just effected Spencer. You hated admitting it to yourself but you’d almost grown numb to the grief your job as an FBI profiler gave you. Obviously, Emily’s death broke you, but it had been weeks and you’d had to force yourself to get over it and move on.

Spencer wasn’t like that, though. He couldn’t just let the pain slide off his back. You’d noticed it at work. He’d been distracted and wasn’t his usual genius self. But you didn’t know how bad it was until he was standing in the middle of your apartment, trembling with misery.

“I just-,” he began, but he couldn’t continue. He started to sob, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he choked.

“Hey, it’s ok,” you said, pulling him tight to your chest in a hug. You shushed him, rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him.

You stood there for a while, just holding him as he wept into your shoulder.

After a few minutes his breathing became slower and he calmed down. He pulled away from you and slumped down on your couch.

“I just miss her,” he mumbled.

“I know,” you replied, sitting down beside him and placing a consoling hand on his knee. “We all do.”

“Well then why am I the only one still crying about it every night,” he said, fiddling with the corner of one of your cushions.

“Ok, first of all, I’m sure you’re not the only one still crying over her. Have you met Penelope Garcia?” you asked sarcastically. He let out a hesitant chuckle.

“And secondly, who cares if you’re still crying about it? I’m glad you are,” you revealed.

“What do you mean?” Spencer looked up at you with a confused expression.

“I mean, I’m glad you still have the humanity to be upset about this. I’m glad your letting your feelings out rather than bottling them inside you.”

“Please stop acting like a shrink,” Spencer complained.

“I’m not,” you retorted. “Ok, maybe I am. But I’m serious. I’d rather you come here every night and cry to me than stay alone in your apartment and hold all your sadness inside you.”

You couldn’t tell what had set Spencer off again but something caused his eyes to begin to water once more.

“Oh, Spence,” you said lovingly as he nuzzled into your chest. His tears began to soak through your hoodie but you didn’t care. He cried for another few minutes. You couldn’t do anything except wrap your arms around him and whisper to him that everything would be ok eventually. The agonizing sounds of his sobs were enough to bring you to tears, but you resisted. You had to be strong, for Spencer’s sake.

“Hey, why don’t we get this coat off you,” you said, noticing his red face. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

You began pulling on his sleeves, but he grabbed your hand.

“No,” he said authoritatively.

You raised your eyebrow, confused as to why he was so defensive over a coat.

“Ok, ok,” you said, taking your hands off him. “If you insist.”

From the minute you mentioned his coat something about Spencer’s demeanour changed. It was as if his sadness turned to anger.

“This is so fucking stupid,” he snapped, leaping up from the couch in rage. “Why can’t I just get over it, huh?”

“You will,” you said, trying to make your voice remain as comforting as you could. “You just need more time.”

“Oh yeah, how much more time?” he shouted. “Because, to be honest, I’m pretty fucking tired of this.”

He ran his hands through his hair. You didn’t know what to do. You knew how to comfort Spencer when he was sad but you’d never seen him this angry before.

“How come everyone has been able to move on with their lives except me?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Spencer,” you answered honestly. “You’re just more sensitive than everyone else.”

“Sensitive?” he yelled, his voice increasing in pitch the more he shouted. “No, I’m not sensitive, I’m weak. I’m just weak.”

You stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his arm.

“No, Spence, you’re not weak. You’re just a normal human being who’s experiencing grief because your friend just died. You’re normal, Spence, not weak.”

“Well, if I’m not weak then explain to me why I bought this before I came over here?” Spencer said, his voice cracking as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bottle.

And suddenly everything made sense. The reason he didn’t want you taking his coat. The reason he was so angry. Hidden in his pocket was a bottle of the drug that he had worked so hard to recover from, and he was craving a fix.

You inhaled sharply in shock, but you couldn’t get a word in before Spencer started rambling.

“I tried for so long to resist the urge,” he explained, his voice still raised higher than necessary. “I told myself I couldn’t go through that again. But as time went on and I still wasn’t over it, it got harder and harder.”

You stared at the bottle and needle in Spencer’s shaking hand and tried to interrupt him.

“Spencer have you-,” you attempted, but he interjected.

“So, you see, I am weak, because I bet none of you the rest of you needed drugs to get over your grief.”

“Spencer!” you shouted, finally grabbing his attention. He looked down at your concerned face.

“Spencer, have you taken any?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he murmured.

You sighed in relief and you saw the anger dissipate from Spencer’s eyes. But that anger was only replaced by more sadness.

“I thought about it. That’s why I bought it. But as soon as I did I realised I needed help and you were the first person I thought of. That’s how I ended up here.”

“And I’m really happy you came,” you said, holding out your hand. “Now, I want you to give me the bottle and the needle, Spencer.”

He hesitated, pulling his hand away from you. You looked up at him expectantly.

“Please give them to me, Spencer.”

You could see the pain in his eyes as he decided to place the Dilaudid in your hand.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved that you had taken away his weakness. But there was also a part of him that wanted to grab the drugs from you and run out the door. He stayed put though, watching as you poured the drug down the sink and threw the needle in the trash.

“There you go,” you said, returning to him and pulling him close to you. “It’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, melting into your embrace.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, pulling his head down and leaning your forehead against his. He sniffed and you wiped a tear from his cheek.

“Do you need to go to a meeting,” you asked.

“I’d rather just stay here,” Spencer whispered.

You smiled at him sympathetically and led him back over to the couch. He sat down beside you and rested his head on your shoulder. You turned your face and planted a kiss in his hair.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you mumbled into his hair.

Spencer sighed heavily before answering.

“I get these cravings all the time, you know. But recently they’ve gotten worse, and today I just couldn’t bear it anymore.”

“That’s understandable,” you reassure him. “With everything that’s happened lately you’re allowed to struggle. And I’m so glad you came to me instead of using. That just shows you how much you’ve recovered.”

“Yeah, but I still want it,” Spencer sighed, covering his face with his hands.

“That craving’s always going to be there,” you told him. “You just need to find a way to satisfy it with other things.”

You swiftly rose from the couch and headed towards your kitchen. Spencer’s eyes followed you with curiosity. You opened the fridge and lifted out a white box.

“Why don’t we try this?” you smiled, sitting back down on the couch and opening the box.

Spencer laughed when he saw what was inside. Chocolate sprinkle donuts.

“These are my favourite,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you replied. “And I know these can’t even begin to fulfil your cravings, but maybe they can distract you for a little while.”

“It’s perfect,” he said, biting into one of the chocolate covered treats. “You know, Emily used to buy these for me all the time. She said she was trying to put some meat on my bones.”

Spencer smiled, a genuine smile. Your heart melted at the sight.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve smiled when someone’s mentioned Emily since she died,” you pointed out, your eyes tearing up at his happiness.

“I think you’re right,” Spencer said, taking another bite. “I think I’ve been focussing on the sad memories for too long. I need to think of her as the funny, smart, amazing agent that she was, not some cold body in a coffin.”

“That’s more like it,” you beamed. “That’s the Spencer Reid I know.”

You knew Spencer still wasn’t completely over his grief. But at least in that moment he was happy. The journey to recovery wasn’t over. He’d still have the urge to start using again. He’d still spend nights crying himself to sleep. He’d still have bad days. But at least there were times like these when all those negative feelings seemed to go away. And at least you were there with him, making everything just a little bit sweeter.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid gifs #criminal minds #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort oneshot #hurt/comfort fic

[thewritersaddictions]

Requests: The Witcher: Geralt of Rivia- Spellbound

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader & Ciri x Platonic!Fem!Reader

Pov: Geralt Of Rivia/ Ciri

Warnings: Mages, magic, fighting, Kaer Morhen, Angst, Fluff, memorial statues, death/revival, female witcher!Reader, falling back into love, happy family vibes.

Summary: The only female witcher is frozen in time at Kaer Morhen, but when Geralt brings Ciri there, something magical and extraordinary happens. Reuniting two past lovers.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers; this is a request.

WC- 2.4k

Requests Master List // The Witcher Master List // The Heros Master List

The first and last female witcher statue stands in the middle of Kaer Morhen. It’s a daily reminder of my failure to protect her and that I must try to be better for her sake. Vesmir had been a helping hand when I lost her. He was the only father figure I had, and I was more than grateful when he chose to have the stone figure of her placed in Kaer Morhen. It was a reminder of how little there were of Witchers like us, but also that love was forever. 

It just stung too much, and I needed to leave Kaer Morhen. Spring was starting a new, and with that, paths and plans were already ready to be brought to action. I packed my little things and took Roach back on the dirty trails that were now not covered in inches of snow. Yet, this path led to a world I’d instead have never been a part of. A law of surprise that leads to a child. A child born to be the princess of Cintra. 

Many more happened before I knew the law of surprise would put her and me on the same path. I’m more than surprised when it leads me straight to her. In an effort to firstly protect the princess and secondly help her because the duty has sadly fallen to me due to the war. I bring her to Kaer Morhen. I get her there to learn and to be supported by Vesmir; then again, I’m reminded of a promise that I must protect Ciri in every possible way, as I couldn’t do so for Y/n. 

Y/n statue stares at me. Her frozen, hurt face, I can hear the echo of screams and how quickly they were cut off before I could make it to the fight. Her beauty hasn’t left her face. A smile that is in the back of my head, but her voice. That beautiful voice. The only thing that could lull me to sleep and keep my spirits high was fading ever so quickly in my mind. All I had left of her were the memories and the statue. Her dress flew in the wind as she was frozen head to toe. 

It had been a mage, an unhappy mage, that had followed us to the mountainside. I remember it now being about me. The memorial was about many things. Y/n had been the only female witcher, so for one, it was a remembrance of that fact alone. Y/n had also said that if she ever died, in battle or at home, she would love to be able to gaze at the morning sunrise and sunset setting. 

I hadn’t realized how long it had been until I arrived at Kear Morhen. Years had passed, and I had gained the child princess and a few friends in those years. Yet even with the people around me, there was still an ache in my chest, so looking at her frozen staring with that scared expression only caused the hurt to grow. 

I introduced Ciri to everyone. Vesmir understood that this was a unique matter at hand. He helped me in any way I needed. I wake Ciri every morning before the morning rose above the mountain tops. “Come, let’s go practice.” At first, it was with swords and then with combat. And every day, Y/n watched us, unmoving and silent. Every day, like clockwork, Ciri would get distracted as she wandered off the battle arena and towards Y/n’s statue. “Who is this?” There was a tiny plaque at the bottom of her lonely statute—Y/n’s name written in a language known to only a few witchers, one of which was Y/n. 

On the plaque, it reads: 

Y/n, L/n 

The First and Only Female Witcher 

We miss you. 

“Someone important,” I tell Ciri, and that’s where I leave it, but I feel I should know better. Ciri will go on an adventure to figure it out herself, regardless of what I want her to know about it. “Let’s return to practice before you get distracted even further,” I tell Ciri, and she follows me obediently, but there is something, and I can feel it as if Ciri is drawn to Y/n. 

–

Geralt doesn’t talk much about his past, and I know he’s got secrets he’s unwilling to share with me right now. There is just something about that statute. I can’t read the plaque below it, yet I do not care. There is a beauty around her, so everyone had to go to bed to rest every night after I sneak out of the room and walk down to the statue. 

I sneak out to talk to her. Unlike Geralt, she couldn’t give me a look of not understanding or dismissing me when he’d heard enough about my thoughts. I just want and need someone to understand me. I would walk out and talk to her for nights in a row. About anything and everything. How training was going, how much I missed my grandmother, the war, and the magic I felt pumping through my veins. Anything that scared me I talked to her about. 

One night, I thought I got caught. I had snuck out after a late dinner. Geralt had said I needed to do more training than when we first arrived here, yet we had already been here for ages. His words and his calm demeanor pissed me off. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?” I yelled at Geralt. I was standing up from the table. The chair slid and scratched the floor in the process. “I never said that,” Geralt said calmly. “Yet you never say I’m doing good; you just grunt and walk away. You don’t even talk to me about anything. Everything is a damn secret, I just want to understand, yet that was the most difficult thing here.” I screamed before stomping to my room, leaving half-uneaten food on my plate. The sound of echoing feet happened hours later, and when I peeked my head out of the room, there was nobody in the living space. 

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t talk about things. I just want him to teach me and not just grunt at me and then tell me to repeat what I was just doing.” I fuss at the beautiful statue. She’s cleaned every day, and she almost looks real. If I just climbed up and touched her, she would come to life before me. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not cut out for this stuff,” I mumble as I look down at the ground before me. I must be too into my thoughts because I don’t hear when Vesmir comes behind me. 

“I see you’re out here talking to our beautiful Y/n.” Vesmir said, “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, Vesmir.” I said, grabbing onto my chest and holding my fast-beating heart. “Wait, did you just say her name?” I asked, whipping around and asking Vesmir. He smiles down gently at me. “Of course, this is the only female witcher ever. She was the best of the best and a loving woman.” Vesmir adds before stepping further next to me. “I’m assuming from your reaction that Geralt hasn’t told you of the story about our dead Y/n.” I shake my head, “Hmm, I wonder, I must tell you now.” 

“So the story goes as follows. Y/n, the only female witcher, was with Geralt. God, they were in love with each other. They thought a hell of a lot of monsters together, but of course, a love story must always have a villain to it. There was a mage, according to Geralt. That had not taken his various forms of saying no to heart.  The mage had dragged Y/n into the fight that unfortunately put her in this frozen state.” Vesmir says, and as he continues to talk, he looks fondly at her.  

“So Geralt and her were together; no wonder he’s so tightlipped about her. He wouldn’t even tell me her name.” I say sadly, looking back up at her. “She is beautiful.” I say in a low, sadden voice, “Y/n is beautiful, I bet she was a great listener.” I say I hear a chuckle from behind “I wish I could have met her.” I say out loud, clearly. My hand sits on the stone base of her boot. “I figure she would have loved to have met you. You are much like her Ciri.” Vesmir adds. 

Just then there’s this moment of consuming silence. My hand still wrapped around her boot. “Ciri?” I hear Vesmir behind me. “What are you doing?” He asks, there’s shock in his voice, and a bit of terror. “I don’t… what are you talking about?” I ask looking up from the gravel beneath my feet. 

Her statue is lite up with a light blue hue. “I wasn’t… I was just holding her foot that was all I promise you.” The blue hue grows with strength until finally it echos into the sky, streaming onto every single surface it can touch. 

– 

I can sleep here, regardless of the anger that Ciri is pushing towards me. I can only ever sleep here at Kaer Morhen. It brings the past memeoties to the brim of my mind. Y/n fliters through my thoughts. Her voice echoing through my head, the sound of her laugh, the spring scent that followed her around. She was nothing like a witcher, her emotions open and willing to be connected with someone else. I ache in the best and worst ways for her. Yet I don;t dare tell Ciri about her. I can see it now, if Y/n was around she’d just love Ciri. Y/n would be so happy to be acting like her mother. As much as Y/n understood that she was the only female witcher, she also wished to be normal. She wished that she could have kids. It was a sad conversation that the both of us had to have. 

My eyes open with haste. A blue bright light pulling me from my dreams of my perfect family. There’s this searing blue light that is filtering through the walls of Kaer Morhen, and my thought flutter over to Ciri. I hope Ciri is alright. I jump up from the uncomfortable bed. I run through the halls, Ciri’s door is left open. Panic starts to set into my bones. I run around the others coming out of there rooms. The blue hue is fading away, and for a moment I swear I can hear Y/n’s voice. I push that away from my thoughts, as I frantly look for Ciri. I find that the front door is open wide, and when I look out there’s nothing but crumble stone all over the ground. 

“Geralt?” I hear Vesmir say. I look up front he ground swallow hard, bearing for the worst. Instead it’s not the worst. “I need you to believe what I’m about to say.” He says steadily. “Vesmir what are you talking about?” “Just let me finish alright, Ciri has awoken Y/n.” I stand there, my heart beats and my jaw leaps down to the ground in shock. We had tried everything, spells, magic, ruins to fix her condition. “Geralt?” A sweet voice calls from the dust before it all clears. 

There she is, standing in all of her glory. Grey hair that flows in the night wind. Y/n hasn’t aged a single day in the many years that she’s been frozen in her stone state. My hands shake my heart beats so fast I can hear it in my ears. I’ve never fetl a source of panic and relief all in one little moment. “Is that really you?” My voice is shattered and my heart feels as if it’s been broken and put back together all over again. “Oh my dear Geralt. I think you and I both know that it’s me.” Y/n says as her eyes flicker over tot heston slab we put her on, and then to Ciri. My eyes widden with shock. Y/n is most defintly not up there anymore, and the expression on Ciri’s face is easy to read. “Let’s take this inside, is that alright Vesmir?” Y/n asksher voice floating into my ears. It calms my racing heart. 

The walk inside is odd, and perfect all at the same time. We all sit at the same table that Ciri had just recently yelled at me. “Who may this be, Geralt?” She asks me, and it pulls me away from just staring at her. I use to stare at her all the time. Her beauty was always hard to not get distracted by. “This is um… this is Ciri.” I introduce her to Y/n. Y/n smiles sweetly over at her. “It’s a pleasure to met the person who fixed my rather unforotunate situation.” I forget how eloquent Y/n spoke most of the time. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Ciri speaks for the first time. “I told Ciri about what happened. Maybe that has something to do with this miracle.” Vesmir says looking over at me. I want to be anger with him and Ciri but the soft, and gentle hand that settles on my arm brings me back to earth. I can’t dare to be mad at either of them.

“I think we should thank them Geralt. As for without their efforts I would not have come back to you.” Y/n says looking over at me. I nod simply. “Thank you for bringing her back to me, Ciri. I owe you a lot more now.” Ciri looks at me notching her head to the side. “Geralt you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to know moe about Y/n.” Ciri says look at he pair of us. “I would love to tell you more about me in the morning I’m rather tired.” Y/n says it like there’s nothing wrong with that fact. “Will you take me to bed, Geralt?” Y/n asks me, her grasps holding me tight. I shake my head not able to talk just yet. “I missed you.” Y/n says as we walk towards the room we used to share. 

Completed on: 08/27/23

Posted on: 08/28/23

The Heros-

#fluff #fem reader #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher geralt #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort prompts #hurt/comfort fic #fanfiction #ciri x paltonic reader #x y/n #y/n #geralt x y/n #geralt x reader #witcher!reader

[hazel-islivingtrash]

New chapter this weekend~~ Satoru and Suguru take on the mall together! Does Satoru realize this is a date? Who knows! (I do :) )

It'll be posted a bit earlier than normal because I have plans and would rather post it a earlier than later <3 Posting time for this weekend will be around 1:30 eastern time on Saturday!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sneak peak of chapter 13: I Need to Do This Right With You (Spoiler free!):

Satoru tried the long-sleeve on first, along with a pair of ripped jeans. He swayed his arms while he looked at himself in the mirror. It fit nicely, like he thought it would, and it filled him with enough confidence to step out of the changing room.

When he exited, he made a show of twirling for Suguru, laughing as he did so.

Suguru’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened slightly. Satoru stopped his spinning, and stood looking back at Suguru.

Suguru blinked a few times, “You look great.”

Satoru dipped his head down bashfully. “Thanks, I try,” he laughed, fiddling with the sleeves and sliding them up and down his arms.

Suguru huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. “The kids are totally going to make fun of us for having matching shirts.”

Satoru scoffed. “Well, those squirts are just jealous of us. We’re amazing.” he crossed his arms, holding his head high as he smiled.

“We are,” Suguru jokingly agreed.

Satoru went through the rest of his clothes, playing around with his last outfit. He came out with three sets of sunglasses on his face, having to walk hesitantly so they could stay stacked properly.

Suguru laughed, taking a picture as Satoru posed. “What are those for? Do you have six eyes or something?”

“Maybe I do,” Satoru joked, coming over to check out the photos. He looked like an idiot, but he loved them anyway. “Send those to me.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

If this intrigues you, it would be amazing if you could check out my fic! I usually post on Saturdays around 3pm eastern time.

Current status of fic:

Current status of fic: 12 out of 25 chapters complete, just over 66k words ❤️❤️

**The story is rated mature and with a warning of graphic depictions of violence.

#jjk #satosugu #stsg #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu fluff #fluff #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fic #yes I made a six eyes joke #no im not sorry #satosugu date #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #From the Start Satosugu #my fanfic #mall date #geto x gojo #my satosugu fic #slow burn fic #fluff fic #ongoing fanfic #gay fanfic #will they kiss? #admitting feelings #jjk fic recs #hurt/comfort fic

[redd956]

Ways To Comfort Your Whumpee

I often seen a lot of ideas around on how to “treat” your characters. I decided to throw in the towel and begin posting in this strange community. Here are ways to give your whumpee a break. Or trick them into a false sense of security.

-Caretaker/Whumper providing a blanket to shivering Whumpee

-Whumpee being able to keep around a pet. Maybe a puppy? Or kitten?

-Whumpee recieving really comfortable clothes, realizing how long it’s been since they’ve been wearing something soft

-Caretaker/Whumper stroking their fingers through Whumpee’s tangled hair, slowly and gently untangling it

-Ice Cream

-Caretaker/Whumper singing Whumpee to sleep

-Caretaker checking on Whumpee at night to make sure they’re sleeping ok

-Whumper working calmly to care for sick Whumpee

-Whumpee getting their comfort food for the first time in awhile

-Caretaker/Whumper massages a very stiff and sore Whumpee

-Whumpee being kidnapped for a ‘bestfriends’ day out (either by caretaker wanting forcing them to relax or whumper being...whumper)

#whump #whump prompts #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whump ideas #comfort #hurt/comfort fic #writing #sickfic #comfort your whumpees please! #whump scenario #whump scenes #sick whump #comfort whump #whump prompt

[angelpuns]

#rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt comic #fanfic #rottmnt angsat #angst fic #hurt/comfort fic #tmnt fic #tmnt fanfic #leo fic #ring fic #tmnt leo fic #ring fanfic #rottmnt ring fic

[swiftietartt]

i feel like someone has punched me in the guts (but i kind of like it cause it feels like being in love) by afterafternoons / swiftietartt

not rated • completed • 6k • roy & jamie & keeley, roy/keeley, roy/jamie

Roy’s standing on the touchline, arms crossed over his chest when it happens; Jamie makes one, over-ambitious pass at the ball, and then he’s sliding, his boots tearing up the pitch until he’s flat out on his back, nearly trampled, as his head slams back, hard, against the ground.

“Get up.” Roy says, for Ted and Beard’s ears only. Then, eyebrows knitting together the longer Jamie lies, he needles, under his breath, “C’mon, Tartt. Get the fuck up.”

In which Jamie sustains a concussion in training.

Read on Ao3

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #royjamie #roykeeley #afc richmond #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort fic #fanfic #fic #my writing

[web-spinning]

I know everyone had negative views on Spy being a father because he’s quite shit at it honestly, however I was hoping we could get a Spy late father instincts kickin in for a young adult reader?

" Late Night Comfort "- Spy comforting a young adult reader.

Word Count: 1036

Tw. hurt/comfort.

You sat down on the fancy chair, uncomfortably tapping your fingers on it's arms. 

This whole situation made you feel like a child again. You weren't a child, you were almost an adult! And on top of that, a mercenary. You could get through this yourself. 

The battlefield has been tough. A little more than usual. You noticed the others were much more concerned about you lately, but you always shrugged it off with stress and said it's all gonna be okay. The excuse worked on everyone...expect Spy. 

You've barely been a part of the team for two months. You had no chance to even show yourself to your teammates. But somehow, he just knew. 

He saw right through you. And tonight, he knocked on your door while you were crying yourself to sleep, saying he needs to talk to you. 

Right now you were sitting in his room, watching him settle a glass with red wine on the coffee table before you, and then going to the chair on the opposite end of it, facing you while sitting down. You swallowed. Here comes the lecture about how dangerous the job is and how young you are, blah blah...

- Listen...Oh, also the wine doesn't have much alcohol, you can drink it. If you want a cigarette, I have some too.- He said casually. You were about to open up your mouth, but he stopped.- Don't say you don't smoke, I know you do. Saw you with Sniper after the last mission. 

At that, you looked down to your feet and only nodded. You could hear the man sigh. 

- You see, what I wanted to you about is...I think you should take a break.- He said. 

You looked up at him again, starting to get angry. 

- A break? Right now? I can't, Spy I'm...

- You're in constant stress. I can see it. You can't focus during battles, you miss every single shot. And I noticed you've gained some interesting scars on your arms, am I correct?- Spy said, looking right into your eyes. You couldn't help but look away. 

- It's from...

- I know, you don't need to explain it to me. I just want you to cooperate with me. The sooner you go on vacation, the better. It's only two weeks off. 

- Well, where on Earth am I suppose to go?- You asked, a bit salty. You hated the fact that he was right. 

- You see...- He started, taking the glass full of wine into his hand and taking a sip.- To your family. And if you don't want to, Scout's also going on a break to Boston. You can join him. 

- And how is that gonna help? I'm just gonna stress over you all and the missions more and will be counting days to come back.- You replied, feeling a gulp forming inside your throat. 

- That's the thing. You won't, if you manage to let it all stay here. That's why I want you to talk to me. Tell me what's on your mind. We can work this through.- Spy said, putting the glass back down. His tone was very gentle and he seemed to really care. 

For a moment you put down your defense, and sighed. 

- It's just...the missions. I'm not doing good on them anymore. We keep on failing because of me. And you know, the whole mercenary thing...I'm starting to feel like it's not for me. All the other mercs are so much older than me, and I can't really have a normal talk with any of them. I mean, there's Scout, but he prefers to hang out with them. And I'm...

- Lonely?- He cut you mid-sentence, tilting his head to the side. 

- Yeah. It's kinda...- You felt your stomach twist as you thought about it.-...pathetic. 

Saying it out loud, it really hit you. You felt like crying, but instead just took in a deep breath. Spy wasn't replying, so you decided to say something more. 

- No matter how hard I train, no matter how much I try, I can never impress any of you! I just want to feel like home. I didn't take over war, it's the war that took over me! Don't you know, I would rather be at the state university of New Mexico right now...but it was blown up by Saxton Hale because he needed money!- Now pure anger mixed with sadness, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. 

- Spy, I just want to make a new home. I can't have a normal life, at least I can still have this one. But it's not working out.- At this point tears just started rolling on your cheek uncontrollably as you began to delicately shake in the chair. 

- I just want...want a home...- You began whimpering out as you sobbed. It was embarrassing to cry in front of him, but you couldn't help it. 

Spy didn't say a thing, just stood up from his seat. He slowly took off both his gloves, then the Balaklava off his head. He wouldn't usually, but it felt like a good idea. It was somewhat illogical to feel comfortable with someone who hides themself. He slowly approached you, and when he finally got to you, he crouched delicately to meet your eye level. 

He gently took your hand in his, which made you snap your attention towards him. 

- Shhh...I know it's hard. I promise it will be better.- He said.- You're gonna take a break and when you come back, everything will be okay. I promise. 

He began delicately caressing your hand, which was quite calming. 

- Did Scout agree to that?- You managed to mutter out. The man only nodded, and you sighed.- I guess I can go with him.

- Of course. I'm glad.- Spy said, letting go of your hand. He stood up and looked at you again. You exhaled deeply, cleaned the tears off your face and also stood up. Without asking, you just threw yourself onto him. After a second he accepted the hug, pulling his arms behind your back. 

- It's alright, mon chou. Everything will be okay.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x reader platonic #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 spy x reader platonic #hurt/comfort fic #sorry Scout #your father has a new child now

[legolaslovely]

Alone

A/N: Hello friends! I hope you enjoy this little story. It was a nice way to step back into writing after some time off due to some career stuff. Leave it to Kíli to make me come crawling back haha!

Pairing: Kíli x Reader 

Word Count: 1,446

Warnings: talk of mental health issues, Hurt/Comfort, reader is a dwarf, reader wears skirts

Summary: You find Kíli alone during a hard day and he invites you to spend some time with him.

All credits to pinterest photos used below are in an original post here

It wasn’t often that you saw the royal corridors glowing in the afternoon sunlight. It was richer and more golden than that of the early morning, blasting, rather than sneaking through the high, thin slices of painted glass above you. It was as if the sun itself had lit the many torches lining the walls, instead of the tireless guards of the mountain who you knew actually kept them bright and tidy. As you walked toward your chambers, you slowed to admire the colorful beams along the stone, lest your duties keep you from ever enjoying them again. After all,  it was customary for you to leave your quarters just after dawn and only return to them once the sun was safely tucked away for the evening. This day, however, you had a break in your schedule and you meant to enjoy the performance before you. 

Until you were interrupted.

     “(Y/N),” you heard.

You turned to see Fíli. The sunlight- orange and red and blue from the stained glass- danced in his golden hair like unbound fire and winked at you from his shining beads. Not that he noticed. He was concerned.

     “Have you seen Kíli?” he asked you.

     “Not since breakfast this morning,” you said.

Fíli hummed. He looked at the dull floor, again missing the magic around him.

     “Why?” you asked. 

     “He… I’m not sure. He was very quiet during our meeting with Uncle’s advisors this morning. But I may be making something out of nothing.”

You knew that wasn’t likely. Fíli was always right when it came to his brother. Even more often than you were. 

     “He’s probably off with his bow somewhere blowing off some steam,” Fíli said.

You agreed. “If I see him, I’ll send word to you.”

     “Thank you, (Y/N),” he said with a soft smile.

He turned from you and walked down the corridor the way he came, head cast down as he went. 

You too ignored the dancing sunlight as you made your way to your chambers with purpose and speed now, no matter how the colors around you begged for your attention.

*

As usual, two guards flanked the large doorway to the rooms that you and Kíli shared. You nodded your greeting to them, flashing a smile that you knew wasn’t as bright as intended due to your worry. The lock to the door clunked and you opened the heavy wooden door until you saw Kíli sitting at his desk straight ahead. Though he heard your entrance, he didn’t turn to you. 

You spoke to one of the guards in a soft voice that Kíli wouldn’t hear. “Rava, will you please send word to Prince Fili of his brother’s whereabouts? Assure him we will be spending the afternoon here and will see him at supper.”

Rava nodded and left.

The room was so still and quiet that your presence alone seemed to send harsh waves over still water, like a ship assaulting a tranquil lake.

     “Would you like to be alone for a while?” you asked.

     “Stay if you’d like,” Kíli answered, his voice deep from lack of use. There was no teasing in his words, no smirk, no smile. 

The moment you decided to let him be, leave him to those thoughts and emotions you didn’t yet understand,  he slid an extra chair out from under his desk with his foot. He placed it beside him, facing him, waiting for you.

At the doorway, you slid out of your heavy boots. You stood them up neatly next to Kíli’s and made your way to him, shedding the outer layer of your clothing and tossing it on the neatly made bed before standing behind him. Only then, with your hips pressed against the wooden back of his chair, did you see what he was doing. He was painting.

Fili was right. Something was wrong. Painting was an activity Kíli only took part in on his darkest days.

He was surrounded by a mess of supplies, sitting hunched over in his chair, his hands in fists, his ever-twitching legs still and tense. He stabbed his brush into a jar of water and swizzled it with a ferocity that would have startled any onlooker. You, however, knew it was an energy of concentration that gave Kíli his heavy hand, not one of rage. 

He explained it to you once, how painting helped him. When his thoughts circled and conversations replayed and the voice in his head growled and sneered its harmful words, painting was the only thing that gave him peace. Mixing hues and shades took him somewhere else, set him free, while his texture work- stippling and sweeping and everything in between- left the world quiet. He could escape his own mind for a while. Be alone.

With you. 

He’d wound his hair back into one thick braid, possibly at the beginning of his session. Since then, however, it had come loose, dropping long locks into his face and strands that would tickle his cheeks and forehead with every breath. You guessed that he’d been impatiently tucking them away behind his ears ever since, because the closer you looked, the more crusted paint you could see in his dark hair.

Testing, you took a piece near the front of his head and twisted it in your fingers until it became a sturdy rope. Before you could slide it behind his ear, however, Kíli straightened his back for you, silently giving you permission. He continued to work, using a knife to blend some colors, while you deftly wove his hair into a tight, but comfortable braid that would stay in place until he was finished. You ignored the fraudulent pigments in his hair and the way they peeled away from his strands and stuck under your nails. On days like this, it wasn’t unusual for you both to end up striped with paint, little consequential pieces of art leftover from Kíli’s spell.

You pressed your lips to the side of his head and cupped your hands over his shoulders in a way that wouldn’t impede his work. The scent you breathed in was so perfectly Kíli- soap, sweat, and smoke, now with added hints of acrylic and oil. You kissed his hair and left him to his painting, his freedom and peace. His shoulders curled and he hunched over the desk again, intent on his vision.

There was a book waiting for you on your bedside table. It was something you’d asked for from the library of Dale and had been delivered to you the evening before. It was a piece of human fiction, one recommended to you by a friend you’d met in the literary building. 

You took the leather bound book from where it had been left and brought it with you to the seat Kíli had pulled out for you. Gently, so as not to shake the desk, you sat in the cushioned chair and lifted your skirts to cross one leg over the other. Content to sit for the remainder of the afternoon, you opened the book’s cover, excited to begin the story. As you flipped to the following pages, however, a strong hand took your ankle. You jumped, surprised at the fingers wrapping around your naked skin, and watched Kíli as he brought your foot to rest in his lap. Looking down past his canvas, he then reached for your other calf, squeezing it as he lifted it to rest next to its twin.

He didn’t look at you, his expression didn’t change, his heavy brows didn’t lift, but as he continued to dab his paint brush over his work, his free hand gently slid your skirts up your legs, like lifting a sheet off a sleeping babe, freeing you from the round of your knees to the tips of your bare toes. He caressed your skin, swiping his thumb over the plump muscle of your calf and the bones of your ankle and knee as if he planned to paint you next, and create your image from touch alone. 

As excited as you were to have this book delivered to the mountain, you didn’t pay it much attention that afternoon. You were busy spying on Kíli, peeking at him while he blended and mixed colors. Watching the shadows gradually lift from his face, releasing the lines in his forehead and the downward turn of his rosy lips. Grinning to yourself when he unwittingly left streaks of blue paint on your legs. Feeling every moment of Kíli’s affection- that which he gave to you even in his darkest moments. 

Because even when he wished most to be alone, he wanted you there.

Taglist: Thanks for reading!

@emrfangirl​  @misslongcep​ @raindancer2004​ @ladybugg1235​ @xxbyimm​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​  @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld​ @dashesofink​ @winchesterandpie​ @tumblinglringlring​  @specialagentsnark​  @karlthecat15722​ @sagabriar @marymegger​ @aidan-kili-mitchell-forever​  @cassiabaggins​ @guardianofrivendell​ @lathalea​ @laurfilijames​  @moniamoure @justfollowtheroad @vem-vem-writes @justbecausewhynot​ @dark-angel-is-back​ 

#kili #kili x reader #kili fic #the hobbit #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fandom #lotr #kili fanfic #kili fanfiction #aidan turner #kili the dwarf #the hobbit fanfiction #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort fic

[thegaynessarchives]

HOLY SHIT U GUYS

I FINISHED MY FIC

#tma #the magnus archives #magnus archives #the magnus institute #tma fandom #jonathan sims #the archivist #jon magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #jon sims #jon archivist #tma jon #jon sims whump #whump tma #tma whump #jonathan sims whump #hurt/comfort #tma hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort fic #ao3 #tma fic #teaholding #jonmartin #the magnus pod #martin blackwood #martin k blackwood #tma martin #cw whump #angst fanfic

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Summary: In thinking that he and Buffy are probably going to make love soon if they don't go out, instead of staying in (something that Angel's not sure that Buffy's ready for), he wants to make sure that the two of them do go out on a date. But when they end up at an olden time inspired candle making attraction at Sunnydale's one amusement park, Angel once again wonders if his attempts at keeping Buffy out of the darkness will just inevitably pull her into it. As, for one thing, this place reminds him too much of his past, the setting is romantic, etc. And that's just the tip of the iceberg of Angel's scattered thoughts and things going on with him this day. A season two Bangel fic.

Light in the Darkness

"I should leave," Angel bit out, as he stood awkwardly beside Rupert Giles—waiting for Buffy to join the both of them in the library—and resisted with all his might the urge to rip the man's throat out.

In many ways, Angel had never been close to Giles, since it was clear that he was so mistrustful of him and always waiting for him to reveal his true colors when Buffy wasn't around. And this pompous attitude in one so much younger than Angel—and yet not one of the children, so he might forgive and forget--didn't endear him to the Watcher at all.

He'd started to make strides to improve his relationship with the Council's dog for Buffy and Buffy alone. But now in learning that the Watcher's Council was holding his childe captive… and Giles knew this and had done nothing, Angel felt any favor he had gained for Giles quickly fading away.

Giles opened his mouth, Angel saw—no doubt about to tell him to do exactly that—but before he could get the words out, Buffy finally arrived on the scene and hopped up to Angel. And almost at once, he felt some if his bad mood evaporating as he smiled ever so slightly at her.

"Sorry, I'm late, Angel! But are you ready to go to that new candle attraction?" the Slayer beamed.

Angel thought that Buffy herself looked like she was ready to match whatever candles they might make together: and knowing her, that was surely the point of her outfit. She looked very cute, in a short pastel yellow dress with baby purple leggings and clear shoes. He also noted she'd put those baby blue clips in her short hair that seemed to be all the rage with teenagers these days.

"Now, see here, Buffy! Shouldn't you be patrolling first?" Giles argued with his Slayer, while fidgeting with his glasses. And if that didn't give Angel another reason to hate the Watcher right now. He growled low in his throat.

"No, Giles!" Buffy protested, horror clearly written across her face. "If I patrol now, the amusement park will be closed by the time we're done! Angel and I’ll go out now and patrol after our date. Promise!"

She was giving Giles the puppy-dog-pout (something that Angel had been victim to a few times himself, and lost many a battle with Buffy because of), and he knew that the man wouldn't be able to hold out.

Finally, he relented: "Oh, alright! But you'd better be double thorough with your Slaying report to me tomorrow!"

And taking that as the dismissal it clearly was, Buffy grabbed Angel's hand—and he was glad that he was unable to blush as a vampire, as he would surely have been doing just that now with her innocent touch—and escaped with him out of the library.

The candle making event was a new attraction that had just been added to Sunnydale's one amusement park (for the time being, anyway. Angel had the feeling that eventually demons would destroy the entire place. That was just how things worked in this town). And when Angel had suggested that Buffy think of a date night for them, she had been adamant that they try this.

Angel thought that that was probably just because it was one of the few new things that Sunnydale had... But maybe also because the attraction was decorated a lot like the time he had grown up in—though thankfully, Angel could tell Buffy wasn't dreaming of being a princess again—and maybe because she suspected he had used to make candles some. And he most definitely had, back in the day. But it had most definitely been eons since he’d done so, though he didn't mind learning the craft again with Buffy. It would surely be fun.

As for Angel himself, he had most definitely wanted to go out with Buffy lately, and not stay in… because he knew that they were getting too close to making love. Coincidentally, he'd almost taken her virginity at a carnival not that long ago, when he'd been under a lust spell and she'd been under a pride one. And while Angel did think if Buffy was old enough to die for the world, she was certainly old enough to make her own choices… he still found himself wanting to delay the inevitable here, if for a moment longer, to try and make sure she didn't rush into something she wasn't really ready for. And so that when they finally did come together, hopefully it was something really special.

"Angel…" Buffy whispered his name now—pulling him out of his thoughts—as the two of them were already inside said candle store and making said items together, after having been given a lesson by one of the vendors. "Is everything… is everything peachy? I felt like when I came in the library there earlier, that you might have been thinking of clocking Giles a good one."

It took everything Angel had within him not to crush the green candle he had just crafted at Buffy's question. He tried to remind himself that he didn't even really care about this childe of his: they'd never had a bond, and he'd been coursed into the whole thing, anyway. But the sire/childe bond was strong. And really, it was the principle of the matter: that now his childe—his!—was being tortured day in and day out in the Watcher's Council's sick games, instead of being put out of his misery, like he should have been. And he could feel his childe's pain.

"Buffy… I don't know how to tell you this," Angel admitted. Looking at all of the candle samples directly ahead of him, so he didn’t have to see her face as he debated whether he wanted to say any of this or not. "Part of me doesn't even want to tell you, or wants to lie."

"Then that's the exact reason you should tell me, Angel," Buffy said now with an urgency to her voice, as she took one of his hands and looked deeply into his eyes, as she stood on her toes. "What's going on?"

He tried to stroll away from her, to gather his thoughts into words, but Buffy wasn’t having it. The best he could do was run a hand through his hair before he reluctantly settled on, "The Watcher's Council has someone I sired… and instead of just staking them, they're torturing him over and over again—to train up the future Watchers—and I can feel his suffering."

It took Buffy a moment to react, like Angel thought it might. At first, she narrowed her eyes, as if wondering why it was a bad thing at all: since this was a vamp. But in just a second, she empathized with Angel and pulled him into her embrace. "Angel, I'm so sorry," she whispered, as she kissed his chest. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No… no there's not." Not anything that wouldn't get his Slayer killed, anyway, and Angel would never allow that. "I'm just… furious. And I hate that Giles let this happen when he could have stopped it," Angel let slip out before he could stop it.

"Giles did what?!" Buffy demanded. And Angel could literally feel Buffy’s body temperature heat up with her fury.

“It’s nothing, Buffy,” Angel contradicted the words he had just said to her, he knew. But he really didn’t want to get into how he’d created this vampire when he’d gotten trapped in a different dimension. And the only way out was through the person he’d sired... And how the man wouldn’t let him out unless he did sire him.

But even more than all of that… Angel had been desperate to be free because he’d just started to watch Buffy after she’d been called in L.A.—thinking he was protecting her—and even though he hadn’t wanted to add any more blood to his name, he’d rationalized that he’d been doing this newest sin to help Buffy in the long run. “

“Giles… I guess he did what he had to do, so the Watcher’s Council wouldn’t open an investigation into him and everything going on here. And I didn’t really care about this childe of mine that much, anyway,” Angel shrugged.

Angel could tell that Buffy was giving him a good once-over, trying to detect any lie he might have just told. So it was good for him that he was a very good liar, wasn’t it?

Or so he thought, anyway, until Buffy started working on more of the gorgeous white candlesticks she’d created and muttered, “That’s literally the opposite of what you were just saying, and the fury I saw earlier. But I suppose if you want to let it go, it’s fine. Lord knows I’ve had to let go of my own fair share of things as the Slayer.”

Angel couldn’t hold back the smirk that came to his lips as Buffy’s words registered in his ears. He didn’t give his girl enough credit. She was too clever. And possibly knew him too well.

Though it was because she knew him too well, that Angel instantly felt himself sobering. Suddenly, he didn’t know if this date had been the best idea... This darkened room with candles everywhere, even though they were in public, was much too romantic. And he was once again imagining taking Buffy and doing things to her that would make her scream in pleasure and pain. The demon within him absolutely thrilled at the prospect.

Furthermore, though Angel hadn’t intended it, instead of doing the smart thing and postponing this date when things had hit the fan between him and Giles today, he’d instead unwittingly started to drive a wedge between her and her Watcher. And that was something he’d never wanted to do, since no matter what he and Buffy were—or what her destiny was, or how short her life might be—he’d always wanted to give her things, not take them away.

Almost to prove what a poison he was, Angel noted that the two colored candles he had made were green and black—in comparison with the white ones that Buffy had made, painting her like the angel, and definitely not him. Green meant life... But the way he had subconsciously moved to hold the two candles in his hands, it was almost as if he was about to cover the green one with the black, to try and completely snuff out any sight of it. And the vampire couldn’t help feeling like that’s what he was going to do to Buffy’s life in the end. He was a cancer, and he was going to choke her.

Buffy must have realized that he’d become entranced with his candles… Because suddenly leaning over his shoulder, she asked him with a smile in her voice, “You know what your colors are making me think of?”

“Kwanzaa?” Angel ventured, knowing that Buffy would have never gone to the dark place that he had. “If I make a red one, that is?”

“…Definitely a good thought,” Buffy acknowledged then, striding away from Angel with the cutest blush staining her cheeks. “And probably better than my idea. In fact, I feel really stupid now. Forget what I was going to say. Knowing you, you wouldn’t get the reference, anyway.”

Well, color him intrigued… err, no pun intended. Or, then again, maybe it was. He could learn to quip as well as Buffy, after all.

And how amazing it was, that she could always turn his mood around so swiftly. How he loved her… And one day, he would tell her. He would.

“Okay, Buffy. You can’t leave me hanging like that. Now you have to tell me. If you don’t tell me, no more kisses for you for a week,” he named his condition. And then the vampire had to laugh when Buffy glared at him and stomped her feet at the threat, like he knew she would. It was good to know that he was so desirable…

“Fine! But no laughing! And if you don’t get the reference, I warned you you wouldn’t, you oldie, you! The green and black remind me of that Disney movie ‘Pete’s Dragon.’ Because, well, the dragon was green with black scales. It also helps that there’s a song in the movie called ‘Candle on the Water,’ and we’re making candles. And the colors we’re talking about are your candles. Happy?!”

Huh. Angel could see why Buffy would make that connection. He had, actually, seen that movie. Or at least part of it... It was probably one of the few in the last century that he had, because the idea of combining live-action and animation had been so bizarre to him, that he had had to see how Disney might attempt it. The aforementioned song had also been quite pretty, he would admit.

“Buffy, are you saying you’ll be my ‘Candle on the Water?’” Angel couldn’t help teasing his girl more. He couldn’t help it (even if he knew he might end up well dusted for it). The Slayer was just too cute when she was flustered. But even though he’d posed it as a joke, a large part of him was serious in asking her that question. It was, after all, a very romantic song. And it would be nice to know that the girl he’d loved since he saw her would be willing to guide his way if he ever got lost. He did often drown in his guilty thoughts, Angel had to acknowledge.

But Buffy didn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest. Instead, she raised her eyebrow—seeming to ask Angel if he’d finally gotten it—and indicated all of the bright candles she’d made. “What do you think I made all these blinding candles for, cryptic guy?—though I guess in this case, maybe I was being cryptic girl—but do you think I send out smoke signals for just anyone?” Buffy smirked at him. And it was a very welcome thought, for all that it meant.

Interesting. Very interesting. Angel had thought he had partly been planning this date for specific reasons, but it seemed as though Buffy had had her own plans all along, too. What a pair they made...

For the love he felt radiating from her—a love she hadn’t said in so many words yet (except the one time he’d somewhat forced her to say it, when he’d been about to reveal stuff about Dru; he didn’t fully count that), but knew she would when she was good and ready—he could do nothing else but pull her close and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before. A side of Angel did try to keep in mind that they were in public, and not to get too crazy, but it was Buffy, and it was always hard to remember anything when he was with her like this. She always stole his unneeded breath.

He couldn’t help feeling, though (when they pulled away from each other), that where before he’d been worrying about some of their earlier kisses—that spoke of the unfailing lust between them, that he wasn’t ready to completely unleash with her yet—this one was all about love. And how beautiful that was… as well as fitting, with what they’d just been through, and what Buffy had offered him with her promise. How his un-beating heart soared.

Reluctantly, however, he had to remind his girlfriend that it was a school night. “Come on, Buffy. Let’s package up these candles and get you home. We don’t want Joyce calling the police, looking for you. I’ll patrol for you tonight.”

Buffy looked as unwilling to leave him as he was her. But eventually, she gave a world-weary sigh, wrapped up her candles, and then took Angel’s hand, before leading him towards the exit. “You’re right, Angel,” she said. “Let’s get out of here before my mom does do the drastic. But, hey: at least I know that if my mom ever did something like that, to have me unwittingly picked up by the po-po… you’d find me. Right?”

Angel grinned. He knew what Buffy was asking, uncertainly, with her last question (as she nervously played with her fingers, while they checked out): If he’d be her “Candle on the Water”, as she was his.

Dropping a kiss to her temple, he gave her his earnest answer “Always, honey. Always.”

Author’s Note: The ending of this definitely got a lot happier and fluffier than I thought it would.

Originally, the idea for this story (that randomly came to me while I was half-asleep) was for it to be sort of foreboding and hint at the later stuff to come in S2. And it definitely has that, but it doesn’t end with it. And maybe that’s okay. I mean, they’re not there yet. So perhaps it’s alright that there are only hints of it.

But the moment I had Buffy mention “Candle on the Water,” it was all over, in keeping fluff out of here. And I don’t think I really care. LOL. Let’s give these two SOME more moments of happiness before the shit hits the fan: Lord knows they need it, since canon can never give them a break.

The vampire that Angel sired in this is a reference to something that DID happen in one of the classic comics.

Also, Angel having issues with Giles is inspired by that somewhat being true in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer novel “How I Survived My Summer Vacation,” where those two did have some problems working together in the summer between Buffy S1 and Buffy S2 while Buffy was away. Some of that is for reasons I detailed here: Mainly in that Giles kept thinking that without Buffy there, Angel would reveal his “true self” or “true intentions” or whatever, and betray them all. And Angel, in his own words, hated having to defer to someone so much younger than himself, or something like that. LOL. As a whole, Angel in that book kind of felt… a bit wilder? But I feel that kind of makes sense. Because he’d only just decided to try this “being good” thing. And I think the more time he spent with Buffy, and humans in general, the more human he became. And I tried to replicate that here a bit: with the sense that Angel is maybe a tiny bit wilder than in some of my S3 fics, at least.

I also just wanted to try my hand at a S2 Bangel fic, as I realized I haven’t done that yet. S2 is so important for them, of course. And beloved by many (and I definitely get why. It’s even my favorite season of the show). Though I will admit it’s not my favorite season for Bangel, if that makes sense. I do prefer them in S3 and post-S3 as S2 is a bit too sexual for my ace self. Oops. But it was definitely fun trying them out in S2, and trying to see how they’re the same as they are in S3, and how they differ.

Oh. Buffy almost losing her virginity to Angel at a carnival, because he’s infected by the lust Seven Deadly Sin and she’s affected by the Pride one, IS something that happens in the book “Carnival of Souls.”

#buffy the vampire slayer #bangel #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #buffy #buffy summers #angel #btvs #foreshadowing fic #slight foreboding fic #foreshadowing #hurt/comfort fic #fluff #oneshot #canon #canon compliant #mine #my work #shanna writes #shanna's various forms of art #season 2 #series 2 #season 2/series 2

[yourbelgianthings]

no greater love

a hurt/comfort fic with aubrey and duck, takes place after the events of episode 28, tw self harm (not actively described)

“GOOD MORNING, DUCK NEWTON! ARE YOU AWAKE?”

“Well, geez, Minerva, I am now,” Duck mumbled as he rolled over and slowly blinked his eyes. He saw Minerva’s imposing form standing over the bed and couldn’t help but chuckle at the borrowed WVU sweatshirt and gray sweatpants she was wearing. All the residents of Amnesty Lodge who had recently moved in between Duck, Leo Tarkisian, and Mrs. Pearson’s apartments were already good to go on clothes due to usually existing in their human forms, but everyone had needed to pitch in to make a few outfits for Minerva. She was certainly enjoying her new permanent corporeal form, but a battle dress just wasn’t practical for laying low in the apartment. 

“I WILL GET YOU SOME COFFEE IF YOU’RE TIRED, DUCK! YOU NEED TO GET READY FOR THE BIG STRATEGY MEETING SOON!”

Duck could hear Minerva fumbling with the coffee maker, so he hurried to throw on a flannel and jeans to get out to the kitchen as soon as possible. Minerva was the most helpful roommate a guy could ask for, but she didn’t exactly have the hang of all the human appliances yet. As the two of them got coffee and breakfast ready, Leo, Jake, Dani, and Moira arrived from down the hall, with Barclay arriving shortly after from old Mrs. Pearson’s apartment. He set a tupperware of freshly-baked cinnamon muffins on the coffee table for everyone to enjoy.

“WHERE’S AUBREY, DUCK?”, asked Minerva, looking concerned as the group continued to assemble (Hollis and Keith had just arrived and were looking for a place to put down their motorcycle helmets, with Thacker and Ranger Juno Devine right behind them). 

“Come on Minerva, no need to worry. She’s probably just still asleep, she stays up later than either of us and not everyone can get up as early as you.”

Indrid Cold was the last one to arrive, in full striking mothman form, and taking a swig from his thermos of hot eggnog. Duck whipped around to face him.

“Indrid! You’re back?!”

Indrid laughed. “Yes, hello Duck. You do recall that I can see the future, yes? I wasn’t going to leave you hanging on the brink of the apocalypse.”

“Well, we’re sure glad to have you back. Take a seat wherever you can find one.”

Duck turned to survey his living room, which was currently seating an impossible amount of people, and smiled. There weren’t many people left he could trust, but the majority of those were right here. They were going to free Mama somehow, and Ned…well, he was gone for good and there was no use wishing differently, but he made the choice to save Dani and give the rest of them a chance to keep fighting. Duck would not see that sacrifice wasted. Now he just needed to wake Aubrey up and they’d be ready to go. Knock knock knock. No response. He knocked again and raised his voice:

“Aubrey? You gotta get up now, everyone’s here for the meeting. Barclay made muffins, they might be gone if you don’t hurry up!” 

A long pause, and then in an uncharacteristically emotionless voice, “Go away,” Aubrey replied. Duck was annoyed but could feel something might be off.

“Listen, I’m not your dad making you get up for school. We’re both adults and you know the stakes as well as I do. So if you need a minute, fine, but you gotta get out here.”

Aubrey screamed through the door, “GO AWAY, DUCK!”

His brow furrowed deeply. “I’m gonna open the door now, okay, Aubrey?” Duck gently turned the knob and then shut it again behind him. His eyes briefly flitted over the Lady Flame show poster on the wall, Dr. Bonkers sitting in his cage, Aubrey’s gloves and a Polaroid of her and Dani on the nightstand, but they quickly landed on Aubrey herself. She was sitting criss cross on the bed holding her pocketknife, flicking it open and shut, and staring at nothing. Duck sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s goin’ through your head, Aubs?” Aubrey turned her gaze to Duck but did not meet his eyes.

“Nothing, Duck. Like you said, you’re not my dad.”

Duck sighed and rested his hand on her knee. “Bullshit, Aubrey. Sure, I’m not your dad, but I’m your friend, and we gotta be there for each other or we’re never gonna make it out of this.

“We already didn’t,” said Aubrey harshly. “We was you and me and Ned. And he didn’t fuckin’ make it out.” As Duck raised his eyes to meet Aubrey’s, they landed on the knife. There was blood on the blade. 

“Give me the knife,” he demanded. Aubrey was too drained to resist, she simply dropped it on the bed between them.

Duck picked it up and asked quietly, “Aubrey, are you hurt?”

“In what way?” She laughed bitterly. “The last time I talked with Ned, we had a huge fight. He lied to me and I was furious. But in his letter to me, the last thing he said was that he loved me. And he got himself shot to save Dani. I have the Flamebright Pendant back now,” she fidgeted with the crystal as she spoke. “But I don’t want it if it means he’s gone. I owe him so much and I can never repay him now. Dani means so much to me but she deserves someone better.” Aubrey collapsed into sobs, practically falling onto Duck’s shoulder. He awkwardly put an arm around her and held her until her tears slowed. Duck Newton was a practical man, he had never been one for emotions, but he was determined to help Aubrey right now. When Aubrey raised her head, Duck passed over a box of tissues.

“I’ll be right back, just sit tight for a minute here.” Before Aubrey could reply, he was off, and returned with a wet washcloth, a dry one, and some bandaids. Aubrey simply held her arms out in front of her. Duck gently rolled up the sleeves and set about tending to her injuries.

“You know, Aubrey, you have nothing to punish yourself for. Do you think this would make Ned or Dani or anyone else feel better somehow?” She started to cry again but shook her head. “You said Ned wrote that he loved you. First off, you better take that to heart, because I knew that man a good long while and never heard him tell nobody else that. But, when you love someone, you don’t want to see them get hurt. You can’t bleed your guilt out, only time will take care of that.”

The two remaining members of the original Pine Guard trio embraced and stayed there for a while. Aubrey eventually pulled back and sighed deeply.

“Well, I guess I can’t save Kepler in my pajamas,” and she laughed for real this time. Duck smiled and stepped out into the hall. As Aubrey pulled on her ripped jeans and a clean sports bra, she looked at her bandaged arms in the mirror. They had armor now, Duck’s tenderness in caring for her at her lowest point helped her feel even stronger now. Then, she put on a tight black long sleeve t-shirt, her battle vest, gloves, and finally the Flamebright Pendant. 

As she sat and laced up her boots, she thought, “The Lady Flame is back!” She was ready to fight with her friends for the sake of their town and the world. Aubrey stepped outside and ran to sit on Dani’s lap. Dani simultaneously laughed and teared up, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“I heard y’all were waiting for the Lady Flame! Well, without further ado, let’s get this started!” As she said this, a smile spread across Aubrey’s face that she hadn’t felt for a while and her fingers flickered with fire.

#message from mirph #mirph's manuscripts #the adventure zone #taz amnesty #aubrey little #the lady flame #duck newton #taz minerva #taz dani #taz fanfic #hurt/comfort fic #hurt/comfort

[orphic-musings]

Hey I really enjoyed and loved the Carlos x reader confort! I was wondering if you could do the same thing but with the roles swapped. Lately reader is suffering of depression and deep low self esteem (not with their body, just in general). One night he wakes up and sees that they're not in bed anymore and finds them in the living room crying as quietly as they can. So soft cuddles and sweet words are ensured.

Take all the time you need to make it, if you want to and have a nice day!!

I AM FINALLY POSTING AGAIN!! Finals wiped the floor with me and since then ive just not had the motivation to write but I AM BACK!! so if you’ve sent a request i will get to it!!

Anyway I apologise for taking so long but please enjoy! I love Carlos sm I hope I did him justice T_T

Characters: Carlos x gn! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: None!

Summary: Carlos wakes up to find reader gone, and he finds them crying on the floor. Comfort follows <33

»»————-　♡　-————««

Carlos rouses from his sleep, and sighs with annoyance. It was a long week and all he wants is some restful sleep, but it seems sleep doesn’t want him. He turns his head toward the clock, which has 3:00 brightly printed on it. He sighs again and flips over, reaching out his arms to wrap around his human pillow, Y/N. But to his surprise they aren’t there. He sits up immediately with concern. They could be in the bathroom, or getting water, but his mind immediately jumps to all the worst conclusions. He decides he might as well get up, seeing as he can’t sleep anyway.

“Y/N?” He calls, quietly, in case they are still half-asleep. There is no answer, and the lights are all off. He listens to the quiet, expecting to hear footsteps or running water, but the only sound is a slight whimpering. Worry creeps up his legs as he follows the sound into the living room. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he makes out a shape on the floor. It’s Y/N. Their knees are pulled into their chest, and their arms fold around them. Breathless sobs and whimpers, quieter than a breeze, fill the silence.

“Y/N, is everything ok?” Carlos asks, voice quiet and words slow, trying not to startle them. They look up at him, freezing as if caught.

“Do you want some company? I can’t sleep anyway.” He waits for them to nod before sitting down beside them. They seem to be holding their breath, and holding back tears, as the silence floods the room again.

“I’m here now, everything will be ok. Did something happen, or is it just kind of a rough night?” His voice is like a smooth wave of water, washing calmly over Y/N. They shrug, and some more sobs escape them, rather than words.

“That’s ok, just let it all out, you’ll feel better I promise. And I’m not going anywhere.” They can hear the sincerity, and his signature warm smile, in his voice.

“I don’t I just, I’m feeling kind of low and I wonder sometimes… why do you even love me.” Carlos frowns, wanting to shush those thoughts and hold them tight right then, but he lets them finish. “You’re so amazing and good and you deserve better… and…. I don’t know…” They trail off, tears still running.

“I can’t tell you why I love you.” He notices them tense up beside him. “I just saw you one day and was immediately taken over by the most powerful feelings I’ve ever felt. And as I got to know you those feelings just continued to grow, because everytime we talked you just seemed more and more amazing. And that love I have for you will never stop growing. Never ever.”

Suddenly they lean, or slump really, into his shoulder, so he wraps his arms around them and embrace them in a bear-like hug. Carlos radiates warmth and softness, and it seeps into Y/N, calming them back into a sleepy state. All that love he talked about is now radiating warmly between them, and it grounds them, and in the present there is peace. He gently sets his fluffy head onto theirs, and holds them a little tighter, as a silent promise.

“Let’s go back to bed, yeah?” He asks, kissing the top of their head. Y/N nods, and he pulls them up gently, and they walk back to their room. After settling, he turns to wrap his arms around his human pillow, and this time the snuggle right into them. Sleep found the two quickly, envelopped in a peaceful dark.

#fanfic #x gn reader #fluff fic #angst fic #comfort fanfic #comfort fic #hurt/comfort #carlos oliveria x reader #re3 carlos #re3 remake #resident evil x reader #resident evil #resident evil carlos #re x reader #resident evil fic #orphic musings #hurt/comfort fic

[redd956]

Second reminder to give your whumpees a break

I see you! Getting on the phone right before going to bed, having artist block on torture methods to OCs and characters. You’ve turned to tumblr for plentiful ideas, and somehow ended up stumbling upon this post. Well fear not! I am just here to remind you that sometimes... you need to give your whumpees a break.

-Whumpee picking up an instrument they haven’t played in awhile, and letting their heart feel the notes out

-Insert Whumper/Caretaker aggressively patting their thighs for pillow time

-Caretaker/Whumper playing an instrument soothingly, revealing ungodly musical talent

-Providing a coat to freezing Whumpee

-Caretaker/Whumper holding Whumpee tight and close, gently swaying side to side

-Washing away matted and unkept hair

-Caretaker/Whumper helping a sore Whumpee finish getting ready (tying shoe laces, synching corsets, fixing bow ties)

-Caretaker/Whumper taking the time to teach Whumpee another languages (well I guess they might not be making this a break)

-That first drink of cool filtered water

-Whumper/Caretaker sneaking around sleeping Whumpee because they’re sick

-Motorcycle ride

-Magical Caretaker painstakingly erasing Whumpee’s scars

#whump #comfort #hurt/comfort #sickfic #whumper #caretaker #whumpee #whump prompt #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump tropes #hurt/comfort fic #comfort whump #whump scenes #whumper x whumpee #caretaker x whumpee #magical whump #comfort your whumpees please!