#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.

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

[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

[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.”

[artisticbeings]

A Sterek fic that checks all the boxes?! Yes please!!!!

Handstands For You by Fenris13

Hurt/Comfort? ✅️

Magic Stiles? ✅️

Protective Derek? ✅️

Kidnapping? ✅️

Little bit of smut? ✅️

Dressing eachothers wounds?! ✅️

Ao3 Synopsis:

"No, really, you don't have to—!" Stiles hisses, flinching as Derek rubs soap with needless intensity into the cut.

"Shut up and keep still," Derek growls back.

Stiles whines in response, squirming in Derek’s grip but otherwise following the order. Stupid werewolves and their stupid regeneratey-healy powers. It’s not Stiles’ fault that he’s wimpy and human, so when he gets thrown down a flight of stairs and through a rotten wooden wall by lake monsters, he still remembers it the next morning.

[captain-shortyyy]

When the hurt/comfort fan fiction finally gets to the comfort<3

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

a knife in the dark, pt. 2

[adar/oc]

read: part 1

Set in the "Awake, Arise"-verse (I'd recommend reading at least chapters 1-9 if you haven't already to get the history of these characters) PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is.

How could he know her name? How could he possibly know her name?

She recoils, dragging herself away from him, retching. There is a roaring in her ears—she feels an unrealness surrounding her, surrounding them, alone in this ash-covered glen.

She knows she has precious few moments to decide what to do; the blow she’d dealt, while hard, will not be enough to keep him unconscious for long.

With great effort, she drags him toward a scorched but yet still sturdy-looking tree and binds him with a length of elven rope Telemnion had given her before they’d set out from Pelargir.

That task complete, she scrambles a safe distance away, crouching in the dust, eyes fixed upon his twisted face. The oncoming dawn paints him with its cold light, and she studies him, every contour, every jagged scar, as though expecting to find answers written across his skin.

But she does not receive answers—only a jumbled mess of images and sensations that seem foreign to her mind but strangely at home in her body, as though her very bones remember them.

A voice—that shares his same tone and timbre—speaking a broken, bastardized language… twisted things, whispering in the dark… green eyes above her, eyes that mean home, but a home to which she can never return—they can never return.

The longer she studies him, the clearer one single picture becomes. She remembers his face, his eyes, swimming just above her, filled to their depths with anguish… and she remembers pain. A body-breaking pain, impossible to be captured by a scream. Her hands move automatically to her abdomen, the place from which it radiates. She does not understand, she cannot make any of it make sense.

She wraps her arms around herself, shaking, as he stirs across the glen.

His head lolls back against the tree, leaving his throat exposed. A pained, plaintive sound passes through his lips, and without warning, she imagines him beneath her, writhing in anticipation, his head thrown back against soft grass as she seeks with her lips for the place just above his clavicle, the one that makes him shudder in bliss—

No. She shudders. Not imagines. Remembers.

He lowers his head, reclaiming more of his consciousness. The sun is stronger now, and a soft, golden light begins to fill the clearing.

She has never seen him in sunlight. She knows that fact to be true. They had existed in darkness together—first a peaceful one, and then one that was wholly evil one. But how—when?

“Why do I remember you?” The question bursts forth with urgency.

He makes no answer, but a glassy sheen appears over his eyes, and with a shock, she realizes that he is on the edge of tears. At the sight of his distress, her feet move of their own accord—the need to go to him is a reflex over which she has no control.

As she draws near, she abandons any certainty she has ever had in her life, about her life. For she feels it now, greater than ever—this magnetic pull toward him, something that she knows she cannot fight. Yet she still cannot bring herself to trust it fully, and she maintains her firm grip upon the dagger.

He drops his eyes as she stands over him, and strands of his long, dark hair fall across his face, obscuring his countenance from her.

Frustrated, she moves the tip of the dagger under his chin, tipping his head back up, forcing him to meet her gaze. She is taken aback by just how haunted he looks. Could it be, she wonders, that he, too, is an equal party to the mystery at hand?

But as the moment lengthens, she reads a knowing look in his mournful, tear-stricken eyes, and an emotion that she would only describe as shame—and she concludes that he must know some awful truth about whatever it is that connects them.

Impatience overtakes her, and her own irate tears begin to prickle. “Tell me who you are,” she demands. “Tell me why I have these terrible memories… these visions of darkness and pain. You were there—why were you there?” Her voice breaks as her hand again moves to clutch at her stomach, as that throbbing, phantom agony returns. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes follow the movement of her hand, and his grey skin turns pale white.

“No,” he moans in horror. “That cannot be all you remember.”

She kneels before him, desperate, keeping the dagger poised at his throat as her other hand moves to grip him roughly by the neck. She puts her lips close to his ear, all but snarling the words.

“Tell me what you did to me.” She digs her fingernails into his flesh as hard as she can—ready to claw the answer out of him if she must.

He leans into the pain, pitifully, his face coming dangerously close to hers. “It was him,” Adar rasps. “He broke us both. He ruined our bodies and our minds….”

“Who?”

“Morgoth.”

She recoils, gasping at the name of the black foe, the one she’d heard spoken in hushed whispers in the streets of Tirion.

Adar weeps freely now, tears cutting tracks through the ash and dust upon his face. “He took us… his servants stole us from our home.”

“My home is in Valinor, in the Blessed Realm,” Erenyë retorts, but even as the declaration leaves her lips, she feels the unsteadiness of the statement, as the foundations beneath her world begin to crack.

“Your home,” his voice breaks. “Was Cuiviénen.”

@catz4ever @toddthekiwibird @eowyn7023 @mylovelylittleobsessions SPICY TIME COMES NEXT I PWOMISE!

[memelovescaps]

The first chapter of my new story BENEATH THE SURFACE is available!

Summary:

In the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts, Harry goes to find Severus Snape's body. A lot of things have changed in his mind when it comes to Snape, and he thinks he deserves to be buried like the hero he is. However, what is his surprise when he finds him alive! And Harry decides that the decent thing to do, and what he wants to do, is to stay and help him heal. A story of healing and recovery, acceptance, friendship, and love. It eventually will become a romance, magical forced bonding story. But it will take a while to get there.

Work in Progress, so bear with me!

Harry then looked at Snape, this time he really looked. The first time he’d been much too anguished and scared to truly pay attention to his condition besides the gushing wound on his neck. But now he could see his sickly pallor. His eyes were sunken with dark bags under them, the raven black hair with a few more streaks of grey than Harry remembered, even if Snape was not even in his forties yet. The thing that surprised Harry more, though, was that Pomfrey had changed Snape out of his black robes, stained with blood and dirt, and had put a hospital gown on him. It was strange and shocking; as if that much bright colour didn’t belong to Snape. Harry snorted, wondering what Snape would think if he saw himself wearing such an awful hospital gown, with its white and beige colours, so far away from the dark black he usually wore. “What I would give to hear you right now, Snape,” Harry muttered under his breath, smirking. And then he grabbed the cloth, wrung it of excess water and placed it on Snape’s forehead. Snape didn’t react, and Harry hoped he could bring some relief to the man who was obviously still in pain. Pain. Harry had never thought that pain would’ve been a constant in Snape’s life. He never thought of the man with other than loathing and contempt, not even when in his first year, he was faced with the truth that he had wanted to save him when it was Quirrell who had been trying to kill him all year long. Over the years, his hatred for the man grew, and since it was obviously reciprocated, Harry never had second thoughts about it. Snape was just hateful, that was just who he was. But now, after seeing his memories… something had stirred in Harry. It wasn’t pity, not exactly. But it was something akin to… understanding, perhaps. Harry had compared himself to Voldemort often, with his hard childhood, and had reached the conclusion that, had it not been for his friends, Harry might have chosen a very different path altogether. But he had found a home at Hogwarts, he had found a safe haven where he could be himself, loved and accepted by people for who he was, rather than a celebrity. Snape hadn’t had that. He'd wanted to escape, to find the safe haven at Hogwarts he himself found, but it had become a place of torture at the hands of bullies like his father. And with the years, he had lost the only friend he ever had. Which, Harry thought, was possibly the thing that tipped him over the edge. What did Voldemort offer him? Acceptance, belonging, respect. Snape was a genius, Harry had no doubt of that, he was inventing spells and improving recipes of Potions when he was barely fifteen. If he had lost everything, why not accept the hand of a man who offered him a place with him, who offered him everything he had desired? Tom Riddle had told him once, he could be very persuasive. And Harry had never realized just how in danger Snape really had been of falling for his trap. Of course he would. Not that that excused him, Harry realized. Snape had a cruel streak that nobody could deny, least of all him, even with this new knowledge he had of him. But he had seen enough of Snape’s memories to know he had spent his entire adult life atoning for his mistakes. And, it also explained his bitterness with life. It didn't excuse him, but to Harry's eyes, it made him... more human, perhaps.

Read more on your website/app of choice:

AO3, Wattpad, Fanfiction.

[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-

[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.

[shatnerihardlyknowher]

New fic!

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings

Category: F/M

Fandom: Good Omens(TV)

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley(Good Omens)

Tags: He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale(Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley(Good Omens), Trans Aziraphale(Good Omens), Trans Crowley(Good Omens), Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Character, Picnics, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Early Mornings, Aziraphale Loves Crowley(Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale(Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale(Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale(Good Omens), Eating, Dinner, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Language: English

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Special thank you to:

@snek-of-eden for helping me, being an awesome beta reader and a great friend.

@catemons-blog for the title and being a wonderful boyfriend

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GO Taglist(excluding those already tagged, if I remember correctly): @sd2006, @gloomth-and-wanderings 💕

[crowscadence]

Pspspsps BSD fandom I wrote another fic called I now have too much to lose. It’s a skk emotional hurt/comfort one shot just under 800 words

You’ll have to sign in to read it since I put all my stuff on members-only because of scrapers, sorry!

[violetthistle1]

Excerpt from As Many Times as I Need To by Violet_Thistle on Ao3.

“Look at me!” Remus shouted this time to get through to him the only way he ever could, with harsh words and a commanding voice. It worked like it always did, Sirius raised his head and looked him in the eyes with bloodshot, tearful ones. 

What!?” Sirius cried out in anguish.

“I know that the world has told you that it was your fault, that you sat in that prison and convinced yourself that it was your fault. I know, because I was doing the same thing. But I need you to hear me when I say, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Moony it was–”

“No, it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t James fault. It was Peter’s.” 

“Moony—”

“It wasn’t James’ fault that he was too trusting, it was Peter’s fault for not being trustworthy. It wasn’t your fault for not trusting me, it was Peter’s fault for taking advantage of that! It wasn’t my fault for believing you betrayed me, it was Peter’s fault for framing you!” Remus was sobbing now.

“Moony–”

“And it’s Voldemort’s fault for believing a stupid prophecy by some half-baked seer, and it’s meaningless, it is, it’s all so stupid and they shouldn’t have had to die because of it–”

“Moony–”

“ –And they shouldn’t have been fighting the war at all, but it’s not your fault, it never was!” 

“Moony!” Sirius shouted because now Remus was spiraling.

“Don’t! Don’t stop me! I’ll keep saying it as many times as I need to for you to believe it!” 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59320471

[artisticbeings]

Hurt Richard, anyone?? Screaming Damian? Angry Jason?

Paralytic by SilverheartSP

The "Juliet Drug" trope strikes again!! Dick being presumed dead without all of the family nearby had me in tears! (But when Jason finds out and just has a very in character reaction.)

(Bonus: A work inspired by this one!)

Ao3 Summary

Dick finds himself as the unwitting test subject for a new kind of drug, leading to a horrifying misunderstanding. Now, all he can do is sit tight and wait and hope his family figures out the mechanism of the drug sooner rather than later.

Originally written for the prompt ‘presumed dead’.

[hazel-islivingtrash]

New chapter heading your way this Saturday!

Things seem to be getting better, but Satoru seemed a little... off last chapter. Find out what happens this week in the newest chapter!

I can't believe we're in the final five chapters off this fic :') it means so much to me and I'm gonna be real sad to end it, but that means new beginnings for new fics! Also, happy 4 months to From the Start officially being published on Ao3, can't believe it's already been so long.

Enough rambling, here's what you came for: This week's sneak peak! ❤️❤️

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

Sneak peek of Chapter 21: Tell Me How to Breath In and Feel No Hurt (very slight spoiler warning)

Yuji and Megumi were walking down the stairs as he left the bedroom, awkwardly making, then avoiding, eye contact.

The boys sat down at the island counter and Suguru stood against it, his back to them, also awkwardly. Everything felt awkward. The tension in the air was thick with it.

He could feel their eyes on him, scouring over his body like little ants.

“Suguru?” Megumi said quietly, quieter than he ever heard the boy before. Suguru turned around, noticing how Megumi’s eyes were downcast and Yuji’s looked at him like huge saucers.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi said, “We’re sorry.” His little green eyes poked up at Suguru before jumping back down. “We didn’t know something happened. We’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Yuji said next to him, nodding his head, “We’re sorry. Satoru told us yesterday something happened. We’re sorry.”

Suguru noticed Megumi’s facial features contort at the mention of Satoru’s “explanation” from the day before, twisting his gut with guilt. He made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

Yet, Suguru couldn’t help but melt against the counter, relief finally flooding his veins. “It’s okay boys, you didn’t know.” His eyes turned briefly to the hallway, where he could've sworn he heard a noise, but when Satoru didn’t appear moments later, he brushed it off. 

He took a deep breath, looking back at the boys before speaking softly, “I'm willing to tell you both what happened to me, if you’d like.”

Megumi’s eyes finally looked at him, a poorly masked curiosity seeping through them. They both nodded hesitantly, mouths slightly ajar.

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

For those of you who are seeing this for the first time, welcome! If this intrigues you, it would be amazing if you could check out my fic! Updates are (usually) posted every Saturday around 3pm est!

Current status of fic:

Current status of fic: 20 out of 25 chapters complete, just over 124K words ❤️❤️

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

[jacksdinonuggets]

What if vaggie slips, and Charlie wants to give her a bath before getting her changed and vaggie thoughts a small fit, not wanting to get into the tub but Charlie helps calm her down and doesn't Judge her scars?

Bathtime

It was a couple of days after the battle. The hotel was almost finished. All the guest rooms were finished but not furnished, there were barely any rooms or areas without any walls or floors, and outside was almost done. Vaggie had just finished putting on the 5th coat of paint on the sign. She was filthy, covered in paint and sweat. She looked at the clock and saw that she had about 4-5 hours until she needed to help make dinner. Taking a deep breath, she decided that, to spend her break, she would regress. However, she really didn’t want to be alone. It was scary and she knew she would somehow end up getting hurt or causing trouble in their bedroom. The nursery wasn’t done yet, which they planned to baby proof so she couldn’t get into trouble. Being responsible, she decided to go find Charlie.

Luckily, Charlie wasn’t too far away. She was simply in her office, working on plans for finishing the new hotel. Vaggie went walked in and went behind and hugged her, nuzzling her head into the crook of her neck. Charlie flinched but calmed down once realizing it was just Vaggie.

“Hey, Vaggie? You finished the paint?” Charlie asked, noticing the couple of paint stains on her face. She nodded.

“Mhm,” She mumbled, “Um… Charlie? Can i ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you need?” The princess asked.

“W-well… I wanted to have some little time because it’s been a while since i’ve last regressed and I just wanna feel baby again…” She told her caregiver.

“Aw, of course, sweetie,” Charlie closed her laptop and got up. She always made time for Vaggie when she needed to be little. She was picked her up, causing the girl to squeak.

“I think someone needs a bath~” Charlie sing-songed. Vaggie was covered in paint and grime and was a little sweaty due to being in Hell’s heat. There was no doubt that she needed a bath.

Vaggie whined, really not wanting to take a bath. She hated seeing her scars when taking a bath, especially when little. They reminded her of her life in heaven and how shitty it was. Every night she would sit in her room with her spear and cry her eyes out while damaging her wrists and legs. Seeing her scars made her remember all the shit she went through and turned her mood sour. Even though they were all healed, she had made the cuts with angelic steel, causing it to scar forever. She could never escape them.

“I know, You don’t like bath time but it’ll be super quick, I promise!” Charlie told her, picking her up and carrying her into their room. The fallen angel pouted still.

As Charlie was filling up the tub, she wet a towel and started to scrub the paint off her face and arms, so it wouldn’t be floating in the bath water with her. Luckily, it wasn’t too dried up and she barely needed scrub. Once the bath was the perfect temperature she tried to help Vaggie get undressed. However, the girl stamped her foot.

“Little one, You have to take a bath,” Charlie said.

“Bu… dey ugwy and scawy…” Vaggie mumbled. Charlie knew she was talking about her scars. So she slowly took off one of Vaggies gloves, revealing the scarred up wrist. Then she kissed each scar. 

“Baby, they aren’t ugly. They just show how brave you are and the things you’ve overcome,” Charlie told her, “But if it makes you feel better, we can use bubbles,”

Vaggie nodded at the suggestion. So Charlie put in some bubbles, letting them foam up before helping her baby get undressed. Even though she was very nervous, Charlie tried her best to make Vaggie comfortable while giving her a quick bath. Luckily, the bubbles worked and she wasn’t too upset. 

The bath went pretty smooth. Vaggie didn’t splash too much and was pretty calm during the whole thing. She mainly just wanted it to be over. But Charlie tried to make it into a positive experience and make it fun. Unfortunately, Vaggie was not having it. She wanted to get clean and get out. But Charlie kept trying to make it fun and get her to play. 

“Sweetie, look! A ducky! What sound does it make?” She asked Vaggie.

“Want out,” Vaggie deadpanned. Charlie sighed. She wanted Vaggie to have fun but knew that it would be hard with how moody she could get. So she finished rinsing her soapy hair and pulled the plug to the drain. 

She helped Vaggie step out of the tub and dried her off with the towel. She got her changed into her comfy pajamas and padding and carried her to the bed. She tucked her in and put on a disney movie for them to watch, at least until Vaggie gets energized enough to play. She usually needs a nap or a quiet break in the day, no matter what she’s doing, in order to not get overwhelmed.

Luckily, Vaggie wasn’t too fussy for the rest of her regression time. Eventually, she did age back up for dinner because she wanted to help make it. Charlie tried to convince her to maybe just regress for the rest of the day, but she refused. It was okay though. At least she got to relax and be little for a while.

[memelovescaps]

Chapter 5.

Snape’s eyes squinted and narrowed, boring into Harry’s, and he offered a lopsided smile. “I know, weird, right?” Harry said, “But it’s true. You deserve to heal here at Hogwarts, with Pomfrey and myself. And once you’re well, you deserve to then decide what you want to do with your life. I told you before and I’ll say it again: you are free.” The Slytherin didn’t seem convinced, though. He lowered his gaze, his eyes falling onto his Dark Mark on his left forearm. His hand grabbed his forearm, covering the Drak Mark, his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth rattled. At that, Harry got up from the chair and leaned closer to him, at Snape’s eye-level. “Hey,” Harry murmured in a low, soft voice, “you did what you had to do to survive. You may still have that mark, but you are free. And safe.” Snape nodded, but he didn’t raise his eyes. Knowing he wouldn’t get much more out of this conversation, Harry got up and gently removed some of the pillows to place Snape in a lying position. He then snapped his fingers, blowing out most of the candles. “Ready to sleep?” Harry asked.

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