#comfort fic fest
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Safe place to hide us away
Written by @lunarheslwt for @comfortficfest
“My pup,” Louis cooed, equally affectionate and protective. Tender eyes flitted all over Harry’s curled-up form, till they stopped back at his eyes. He was quiet, tentative, as he asked, “Can I get in, baby?”
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, gaping at Louis while half wondering if he was making this up in his head. His mouth moved noiselessly as he processed Louis’ words. Louis was … he was asking …
“Can I … come into your nest, pup?”
Harry was helpless to not stare, mind reeling. Out of all the possibilities and worst-case scenarios he had ruminated on night after night as he lay in his shame drenched nest, this simply wasn’t one of them. And yet, here Louis was. He had stayed. Still loved him. And was even asking permission to come into the pile of clothes that he called a nest.
Or, weighed down by everyday stress, alpha Harry takes up nesting in secret. It takes a load of missing clothes and unravelling lies for him to realise that his omega would love and accept him no matter what.
12k / T / Omegaverse / alpha nesting au / moodboard by me, all pictures belong to original creators and owners
Read here
#my fics#my fic post#hlcreators#omegaverse#a/b/o dynamics#hljournal#hltracks#hlsource#hledit#trackinghappily#trackinghome#tracksintheam#1dficvillage#ficsfor4am#ao3 feed larry#1dsource#1dlibrary#yourlarrysource#larry#larry fic#comfort fic fest
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Kicking off our first edition of the COMFORT FIC FEST, we present:
CUDDLEBUG by sun_flowr
When the call from the adoption agency finally calls, Harry and Louis are surprised to discover that they have been tentatively paired with a young pup named Rami, who suffers from a multitude of issues stemming from the abandonment he’s suffered. But no matter the challenges, they know they will do everything they can to care for and love this pup as if he was their own.
Prompt: a/b/o established relationship where they finally go adopt a child and find a toddler with touch depri/abandonment issues and they build him a nest and comfort him
#1d fic fest#hlcreators#comfort fic#comfort fic fest#thelarriefics#fic fest#1dficfests#hlficlibrary#allwaswell16#fic#omegaverse#kid fic#pup fic
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Out Now! The Bear Necessities
Written as part of the @comfortficfest
Prompt: Louis wins Harry a bear AU
Read the tags, you're in for a ride, and not just the fairground type... 😏
#ao3 fic#fic rec#larry fic#larry stylinson#louis and harry#my fics#fics#fic#to read#thelarriefics#larry fics#1dsource#hljournal#hlcreators#1d fic fest#1dficfests#1dficvillage#Larry Stylinson#hlficlibrary#ficsfor4am#trackinghome#trackinghappily#tracksintheam#allwaswell16#yourlarrysource#comfort fic fest
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In an octopus’s garden with you
Harry/Louis • 4.6k • G
Written for the 1D Comfort Fic Fest 2024 @comfortficfest
~🐙~ COMING MAY 29, 17 GMT/1 PM EST ~🐙~
Autistic alpha Harry, a teacher, just spent an overwhelming day at the aquarium with his class. Luckily, his omega, Louis, knows just what he needs.
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Stuck in Midnight Traffic by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28
Rating: M (2.9k)
Written for @1dchristmasfest 2023!
The curly haired man sniffles again, but the tears seemed to have stopped for now at least. “I was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with my boyfriend, that is until we got into a horrible fight.” He seems to wince at his own words. “I guess I should start getting used to calling him my ex-boyfriend. But anyways, we just couldn’t stay there any longer. Kevin and I had to get out.”
Louis blinks before looking around the empty tube car confusedly. “Kevin?”
The man nods and then squeezes a little tighter to the little potted plant clutched in his arms. “Kevin is a Christmas Cactus, but he doesn’t bloom.” He quickly adds. “Which is completely fine, because I love him just as he is.”
Louis’ not sure what most of that means. All he does know is that he needs to make sure this strange, beautiful creature is never sad again.
(Or the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?)
Title from Heartbreak Magic by Riah
Read on Ao3!
#larry fanfiction#larry stylinson#hl fanfiction#1d fanfiction#hlficlibrary#hlcreators#1dficlibrary#read on ao3#christmas fic#1d christmas fest#hurt/comfort
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Heals the Hurt Faster
Bond cuts his finger while cooking dinner with Q. Luckily, Q is well-stocked with—unicorn plasters?
My second creation for MI6 Café 007 Fest 2023! This one was inspired by the 2023 prompt table request, "Cutesy plasters for all those administrative papercuts and/or shallow slashes from broken glass and knives," as well as by this post by @mr-iskender that has lived rent-free in my mind for ages. (Alex, your mind never ceases to amaze! 💜)
You can read below the cut, or over on ao3.
They’re making dinner together in Q’s kitchen—calabacitas, a Mexican casserole with squash and ground meat and chiles—and Q is singing to himself under his breath while he rinses the chiles, which is doing things to Bond’s feelings that he’d rather not admit, and all the while Bond is simultaneously trying to chop the squash to Q’s specifications and chivvy a recalcitrant cat off the counter, and even that would have been manageable, except that Q looks up mid-song to smile at Bond, and he’s just distracted enough that he manages to nick the side of his left index finger with the tip of his knife.
It doesn’t even hurt particularly much—mostly, he’s annoyed that he’s bled on the cutting board, which will now have to be washed, and on a piece of the squash, which will have to be discarded—but Q must notice him drop the knife, because all of a sudden Q has thrown the chiles back in the colander on the counter, discarded his rubber gloves, and come to Bond’s side, taking Bond’s injured hand in his and pulling him to the sink so he can rinse the blood from his finger.
“It’s nothing,” Bond says. “It’s barely even bleeding.”
But Q hushes him, and holds his hand under the warm water for a moment longer before pulling a clean, dry flannel off the shelf and wrapping it around the finger.
“Hold that in place,” Q says, before turning and banging around in one of the cabinets next to the sink.
“Here we are,” he says after a moment, pulling down a first aid kit.
“Don’t you think that’s overkill?” Bond asks, frowning down at the ointment Q is pulling out of the tin.
“You’ll understand if I don’t take wound care advice from someone who once got on a two hour flight home with an untreated bullet wound,” Q says, dabbing the ointment on the cut, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“It was Ryanair,” Bond offers dumbly, unable to remember any of the surely impeachable reasons that he’d had at the time, caught up as he is in the gentleness with which Q is cradling his hand in his.
Q pauses, looking up. “And that’s supposed to make it better?”
Bond shrugs. “The seats hide bloodstains better than most.”
“That’s worse, actually,” Q says. “You do see how that’s worse?” He takes out a box of plasters from the kit, pulls one out, and starts to peel back the paper.
“Unicorns? Really, Q?”
“I keep it stocked for when my nieces visit,” Q starts, and then pauses to push his glasses back up his nose with his free hand, his cheek dimpling in a way that absolutely doesn’t make Bond’s heart lurch fondly in his chest. “Oh, who am I kidding, I like them as well. They’re cheering, and who doesn’t want a bit of cheering when they’ve got an injury?”
“It’s a nick from a chopping knife, Q, not a bayonet wound.”
“And a good thing, too,” Q says as he wraps the plaster carefully around Bond’s finger. “They don’t make plasters that large with unicorns on them.”
He brings the bandaged finger to his mouth and presses it carefully to his lips, and it is this, finally, that threatens to bring Bond to his knees.
“You’re fussing,” he says. No one has ever, he manages not to say, though only just.
“What’s the point of caring for someone if you can’t fuss over them?” Q asks.
“And you care for me, do you?”
It’s meant to sound flirtatious, or arrogant, or to carry any number of inflections that will make Q roll his eyes, and drop Bond’s hand, and get back to making dinner. But it comes out distressingly earnest, enough so that Q doesn’t let go of his hand, and instead presses it against his chest.
“It would seem that I do,” Q says, and leans over to take Bond’s lips in his.
It’s what Bond has come to think of as a quintessentially Q kiss, soft and slow but not at all hesitant or indecisive. Q kisses with all of himself—loves with all of himself, Bond is beginning to think, but dares not entertain for longer than the instant it takes for the thought to flit across his mind, and it’s absolutely the pile of chopped onions that makes him keep his eyes closed as he leans his cheek against Q’s messy curls.
“It’s a miracle that I got you to retirement in one piece,” Q says. “Don’t think I’m not incredibly aware of that fact. And I’ve only just got you into bed with me, you know. Call me selfish if you must, but I fully intend to keep you whole and healthy.”
“With unicorn plasters?” He can think of worse fates, if he’s honest. He’s had worse fates; has been shot and burned and bruised and drowned and discarded, only to be yanked back into active duty practically before the needle is done pulling the last stitches through his abused skin. And yet somehow it’s led him here, to this man, who bandages an insignificant kitchen injury as if there were no use of his tenderness and his time that could be more important.
“If I must,” Q says.
You must, Bond wants to say, you absolutely must, but he goes for casual, instead, and says, “If you break it, you buy it, I suppose.”
“But I haven’t broken you,” Q says holding up Bond’s bandaged finger. “I’ve pieced you back together.”
“So you have,” Bond says, and it must not come out as flippant as he means it to—it must not come out flippant at all, because Q kisses him again, and even after the kiss ends, Q doesn’t let go.
#00q#domestic fluff#hurt/comfort#the mildest hurt imaginable but still#james bond#bandaging wounds#it's so fluffy i'm gonna die dot gif#Mexican!Q#my fic#heals the hurt faster#007 fest 2023#prompt fill#team q branch#qb-a1
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Hi!! I was reading that fix you wrote where Remuz was having a panic attack in the hospital. There was a part when he was remembering when his parents would calm him down when he was in the hospital with his shoulder, and I was wondering if maybe you could write a full version of that - when Remus was in the hospital and afraid, and sad, and in pain and his parents helping him through it.
Just a thought, love your work! ❤❤
Fic O'Ween Day 6: Nightmare. Honestly this is a big ol' cathartic whumpfest, ft. my endless love for Hope Lupin. Characters belong to @lumosinlove <3
TW for description of injury, trauma, hospitals, crying
The faint sound of plastic wheels on linoleum rattled through the door. There was the squeaky, bubbling laugh that only a five-year-old could muster; the wheels rattled again, returning from the end of their path to the timbre of a gentle voice. The lights inside were dim and Hope was grateful.
Julian rolled his toy across the hall floor again and Lyall chuckled, making some comment that was lost to the thick door. Voices hummed like the wings of bees in a hive, interrupted now and then by the ping of a PA system or the tchack-tchuck of crisp cart wheels going past. Remus was doing an awfully good job of pretending to sleep.
Today was hard. They had arrived early—so early, if there was a God up there she prayed she would never have to coerce a toddler into the car before sunrise again—and waited for long enough that she began to resent the asscrack-of-dawn appointment. Jules passed the time dozing in Remus’ lap; small miracles. When the doctor finally arrived, she read an Eye Spy book with him while Lyall and Remus went in for the debrief, both too tense around the shoulders. They had all been too tense lately. It made her sick to think about shoulders for too long.
Two weeks of silence had begun clotting between them and sticking to the corners of the house. Hope didn’t like hospitals much, never had, but she was just glad to be able to breathe. Dislocation and multiple muscle tears, they had said. Get to the doctor within the month, or you’ll run the risk of severe infection. Festering. Shredded. Damaged. All those words, and none of the truth.
Hope looked down at the hand laying limp in her own. Freckled. Strong. Determined. That was her son. That was the truth. The doctors always seemed to overlook his kindness, his gentle heart, his unending courage—they never wanted to just listen for two seconds. Maybe Remus would have told them what happened, then. Maybe he would finally speak up because Hope might not be a doctor but she knew for damn sure that an injury like that didn’t come from a stray hit, and not a single person cared to look further.
She would have done it herself, if she had the time. But she didn’t. She just didn’t. There wasn’t enough Hope Howell to go around.
“Remus.” Her voice stuck in her throat and she coughed lightly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Re, baby.”
He remained quiet and motionless, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest under the blankets. They only let him have pudding in the hospital, some fakey vanilla nonsense that smelled like plastic, and the antibiotics had brutalized his appetite—he was too skinny, now. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit the inside of her lip, looking to the ceiling until she was sure they wouldn’t fall.
“Come on, trooper, let’s get some water in you.” She squeezed his hand again, tighter. “You don’t have to sit up or anything. Dad and Jules are in the hallway. Just—just have a drink and then you can go back to sleep, okay?”
No response. Something warm slid down her cheek and she wiped it away on her sleeve. It wouldn’t do any good to cry right now. She had done enough of that earlier, when Remus couldn’t regulate his breathing by himself and the nurse asked her to hold his hand while they put the anesthesia mask over him. Hope didn’t plan on dying anytime soon, but she knew she would never forget the look on his face as long as she lived. Clammy and shaky, wide-eyed until the medicine kicked in and his lids slipped down into something almost restful if his brow hadn’t been creased so deep. It was the stuff of unimaginable nightmares. They told her he slept through the whole thing, all three grueling hours.
Two pins and an immeasurable number of stitches later, he still thought he could fool her.
There was no sense in wasting her energy to push down her emotions anymore. Remus had to know it was alright to feel them, and to let them go. Hope sniffled and watched one drip onto her jeans. “I know you’re awake,” she said quietly. “I know you’re probably feeling sick and awful but I am so proud of you, sweet pea.”
The blanket hitched.
“I’m so proud of you,” she repeated, voice wobbling. “You did so good. And I promise I’m not going to grill you about anything, I just want you to drink some water, if you want me to tell Dad you’re still asleep that’s fine—”
A low, broken sound cracked her somewhere deep, beyond her heart and lungs. When she leaned over in an awkward hug, Remus didn’t try to pull away like he had since that night, didn’t do anything but grip her cardigan with his good hand while half-breathless sobs wracked his body.
“I know.” She pressed a kiss to his sweaty hair. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t.” Remus sucked in air like a fish on land; she could hear it catching somewhere too shallow for it to do any good and held him closer. “Momma you don’t ‘n’ I’m sorry but I can’t.”
“Why not?” She closed her eyes tight enough to ache. “Re, baby, you’ve gotta tell me or I can’t help you.”
“The hit—the hit—”
“Please don’t bullshit me.” She sounded frail to her own ears. “Don’t tell me it was the hit, Remus, your dad and I both know that’s not true—”
The next sob was louder and she winced in sympathy at the seizing of his chest. “It was, it was—”
“No.” She sat up just enough to see him, though Remus’ hold on her didn’t loosen by a bit. His face was blotchy and streaked with salt tracks, lips white at the edges from trying to keep it all in. He was Remus, age five, with a red mark on his forehead from a doorknob. He was Remus, age eight, split-lipped and bruised after going head over heels over his bike handlebars. He was Remus, age 14, roughed-up from his first hockey fight once the adrenaline faded and he was just scared and in pain.
Hope gently pried him off her sweater and held his hand in both of her own. A deep breath eased her headache by a degree, but nothing could stop the heartache watching Remus choke down his tears again, and again, and again. There was something darker in his eyes. Something more than fear and hurt. It was where his sobs kept catching and his breath couldn’t get through. Part of Remus had died that night, she knew that much, but this cesspool of abject terror was something he hadn’t let them see yet.
“I won’t ask for details.” Please, please tell me or I’m never going to sleep again. Remus watched her like a wary deer and somehow that hurt even more. “I won’t. I promise. You can tell Dad and ask him not to share with me if you want. But I need to ask you one thing, Remus, and I need you to be honest.”
His throat bobbed. He sniffed, though it didn’t do much. His left arm was bound tight to his body and it took a second for him to shift up on the pillows. He nodded.
“Did this happen during the hit?”
Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he shook his head, lashes clumping with fresh tears that spilled over and down toward his ears. Hope let out an unsteady exhale and bent to hug him again.
Sitting there in the plastic chair, back aching, holding her son who had done nothing to deserve anything but the best in life, Hope found that she couldn’t wish death on whoever did this. Death was too good for them. Too light of a punishment. She wanted their life razed and salted and burned until nothing could grow there again and when their time was finally up, she wanted them to pass on with nobody at their side.
In a sense, it was a good thing Lyall was still keeping Jules entertained for the millionth hour, bless his sweet soul. If he had been there for Remus’ confession, the person who did this to their son would be six feet underground before the day was up.
Remus had quieted, resigned to sniffling and the occasional tremor. Hope brushed his hair off his feverish forehead and wiped his tears with the corner of the blanket. “Thank you,” she said at last.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Remus rasped.
“Yes, you can.” She met his gaze, holding strong under the shattered thing staring back at her. “And you will. It’s alright if it takes time. You and me and your dad and Jules are going to get through this, Remus. Step by step. This is not the end of the world.”
Later, when she looked through the window while Jules finished his snack in her lap and saw Lyall holding Remus like his lanky body could shield them both from the world, it almost felt like a beginning.
#hope lupin#remus lupin#julian lupin#lyall lupin#sweater weather#lumosinlove#my fic#fanfic#injury#hospitals#hurt/ comfort#angst#hugs#remus go to therapy challenge#noot fest#fic o'ween 2022
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I ended up writing two fics for the cosmere femslash event @gal-palanaeum organized. This was the main one I wrote, and I’m very proud of it
1,500 words, rated teen, hurt/comfort and angst
#Stormlight Archive#Cosmere#Cosmere femslash fest 2023#Kalami Stormlight#Navani Kholin#Teleb Stormlight#fanfiction#fanfic#my fics#hurt/comfort#angst#unrequited feelings#yuri
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Fifteen
Some pre-relationship baby Jily for this Era. Written for @cruelsummer-ficfest era 4.
Ship: Jily
Song: Fifteen (Taylor's Version)
'Cause when you're fifteen,
Somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen...
Lily huffed a laugh as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. It was the third time this week that she'd had to disappear into the Prefect's bathroom to cry. It was getting a bit ridiculous, but the term had been nightmarish and didn't seem to be getting better.
First, she had made a fool of herself at the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, proudly painting her cheeks with Hufflepuff colours after her date with their captain, Graham Porter, the previous weekend. She'd told all her fellow fifth years about their date, and how excited she was for the next one, only to watch him fly off the pitch after their win, and pull Gemma Warwick into a kiss.
After that fiasco, she had struggled to study and had gone into her Divination OWL completely unprepared. She didn't particularly want to take the subject further, but she didn't need a bad grade on her record, especially with the rising anti-muggleborn ideation.
Then there was Severus, who had spat a slur in her face and destroyed 8 years of friendship. She had really believed him when he'd told her he cared about her and didn't care about blood status, and now she was left feeling like a fool after her revealed his true colours. It didn't help that James Potter had been there to egg him on, nor that the rest of Gryffindor tower had heard their argument when Severus came begging for her forgiveness. She was constantly reminded by whispers and gossips that she'd lost her best and only friend.
A loud knock stirred her from her thoughts before the door opened and James Potter walked in.
"Occupied, Potter. And you shouldn't be in here, anyway. Prefects only."
He smiled sheepishly.
"Remus told me the password," he said as he moved to sit next to her on the floor. "And I know I shouldn't be in here, but I needed to catch you alone."
She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall.
"Out with it, then," she responded. "What do you need to talk to me about so urgently?"
"I wanted to apologise," he said simply.
Her head snapped over to look at him, eyes wide and surprised.
"I'm sorry, Evans," he continued. "I've been an asshole to you and to Snape, and you didn't deserve it. I'm also sorry for asking you out the other day, even as a joke. It was unkind and inappropriate. I've tried to apologise to Snape too for the incident by the lake, but he won't let me get a word in. Which is fair, I guess. It's not like I've ever had something kind to say to him before. But I'm babbling, and you don't need to hear all that, so I'm gonna shut up now. I'm sorry, is the point."
There was a long pause as she thought over his words. James shifted uncomfortably, twisting his hands together while she kept staring at him.
"Why now?" she asked eventually. "Why apologise now, after five years of knowing us?"
He scratched the back of his neck and ran a hand through his hair before answering.
"It's a number of things, really. First is that both McGonagall and Remus gave me an earful last week, which made me sit and think about my actions properly. I know I should think before acting, but at least I'm getting closer. Second is that I realised I'm turning into the kind of person I claim to hate, and I don't want to be that. I know we're only 15 and we have time to grow, but I don't want to start in the wrong place. I want to be better than this. And..."
He drifted off at the last point and looked away from her.
"And?" she prompted gently.
"And I really do like you, and I've noticed you sitting alone at mealtimes, and only sitting with Abigail from Hufflepuff in class, and I don't think it's fair that you don't have anyone else. I know you're probably avoiding sitting with me, but that means you don't get to sit with Marlene or Dorcas or Mary or even Remus and Sirius, who I know you're friends with. I don't want to be the reason you don't have friends. I'd much rather be one of them. I care about you."
"Oh."
He got even more twitchy, if it was possible, and began to stand up to leave before she caught his arm.
"Thank you," she said. "For the apology and for caring about me. I appreciate it."
"Any time, Evans."
He started crying walking towards the door, hands stuffed in his pockets and head down.
"I'll see you at lunch?" she called out to him.
He paused for a moment and turned back, half smiling at her.
"Yeah, Evans," he responded quietly. "See you at lunch."
He turned away again, reaching for the door handle before she stopped him again.
"And, James?"
He paused, but didn't respond, looking at her with his head tilted slightly.
"Call me Lily."
He smiled properly then, a grin lighting up his whole face.
"You got it."
#jily#james potter#lily evans#cruel summer fic fest 2023#cruel summer fic fest: the eras tour#era number 4#fifteen#hurt/comfort#I think#fluff
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We present:
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN WITH YOU by @liminalkittyfics (G-4k)
Autistic alpha Harry, a teacher, just spent an overwhelming day on a field trip to the aquarium. Luckily, his omega, Louis, knows just what he needs.
#hlcreators#1d fic fest#comfort fic#comfort fic fest#thelarriefics#fic fest#allwaswell16#1dficfests#fic#hlficlibrary
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Last Line Challenge
Thank you @marwritesstuff for nominating me!
This is the last line I edited from a fic I’ve just completed for the @comfortficfest, due out sometime in May/June. I mean I apologise but I’m just following the rules…
Louis catches it in time, just, and swipes the pre-come that’s run down Harry’s cock onto his fingers.
😬
I'm tagging @holdingontochaos, @liminalkitty369 and @nooradeservedbetter because I don't want to be the only one posting smutty last lines....
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Day 1: Mon Eclair
#drarry#harry potter#draco malfoy#text fic#get (back) together fic#hp fanfiction#hp fanfic#comfort zone fest 2024#hpffwg events
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Okay y’all which fic would you like to see updated next (other than the Christmas Fic I need to emotionally recover from that chapter before plowing ahead myself lol) OR do you want a NEW fic (I have the Equestrian AU first chapter finished, and I can *probably* finish the Vampire 75 AU first chapter by Tuesday if I tried really hard) I’m not going to guarantee that is the fic I’m going to update, but as I stare at my collection of Google docs I am open to input (please give me input I’m a people pleaser) 😊 Thank you!! (If no one answers I will be quietly deleting this post and we will pretend it never happened)
#allylikethecat#i am stepping outside of my comfort zone and making a poll#i hope to god someone responds lol#ally’s creative process#or lack there of#fanfic#fanfiction#matty fic#gatty#ally’s angst fest#if no one responds i am deleting this and retreating into the corner of shame
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HP Rec Fest 2023 - Day 2
Fest - @hprecfest
Theme - A comfort fic
Rec because - My recs for today are two comfort fics I have been rereading a lot. It's probably easier to call them queer instead of trans because they are pretty hard to categorize. They both have a lot of intersex vibes which is really, really super rare to find in fic. They are my holy grail Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides fics of the HP fandom.
Epic of the Forgotten by eldritcher
Pairing - Voldemort/Viktor Krum
Link - AO3.
Rec because - this is my all time fav queer as fuck comfort fic. The fic I want to take with me to hell/afterlife/next incarnation/whatever :D Beautiful, sensitive and brilliant. Voldemort seduces Krum for an One Night Stand which of course becomes a full-blown relationship where they don't talk about anything before Krum's gender dysphoria hits. It's got an earned happy ending. It's just incredibly comforting. I can quote whole sections from this fic because I reread it a lot.
Sexing the Pumpkin by ratherbrightred
Link - Livejournal Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Pairing - Sirius/Snape
Rec because - this is my all time fav Sirius/Snape fic. Absolutely. Zero doubt. But it doesn't have the 100% comfort vibes of the previous fic because it gets really dark sometimes. I know some of my friends found it triggering. I feel what is comforting to one person can be sometimes the total opposite for somebody else. So definitely read the warnings first. Also the sequel has an earned happy ending but I am first going to just link the main fic because I feel it stands on its own and packs an incredible punch.
Quote from Author's Summary - Sexing the Pumpkin: a love story (SS/SB, porny, long) I've written something very….queer. Stealth!Snape* is the love child of femmenerd and myself. I really wanted Snape to get with a girl here. But he doesn't, he ends up with the next best thing, Sirius Black.
#hprecfest2023#hp fic recs#hp slash fic recs#fic recs#rec fest#intersex fics#gender identity#comfort fics#hprecfest2023 squashrecs
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rue!! <33 may i please request a couple of sentences for ''come blossom between my ribs"? (what a cooool title btw!)
thank you so much!!! i'll just add onto the snippet for you:
Then Steve almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden knocking sounds on his window, the loud rustling of the tree, grunting and groaning noises.
He jumps up, tearing back the curtains. He can’t really describe the feeling that comes over him at the sight of Eddie fucking Munson balancing precariously on the tree limb, his cane stretched out to tap the glass.
Of all the emotions rising in Steve’s chest, the only one he can understand is anger that his fall risk friend is standing on a branch two stories high, so that’s what he goes with.
“Eddie Munson!” He whispers sharply, “Do I even need to explain why you shouldn’t be climbing a fucking tree?”
Eddie has the audacity to chuckle, “Hey, you gotta admit this is even more impressive with a cane, right?”
How can Steve want to smile when he’s so angry? He shakes his head, “What are you doing here?”
“Oh you know, just hanging out— whoa!” He sways dangerously and Steve almost has a heart attack.
“Jesus! Just c’mon, get in.”
It takes some nerve-wracking maneuvers but eventually, he hauls Eddie inside his room without making too much noise.
“Well, that was fun,” Eddie grins, a little winded, adjusting his bandana.
“Yeah, not exactly the word I’d use. And keep it down, my mom’s home.”
“Oh yeah, mama’s boy? Here I thought you were busy with a hot date tonight,” he pokes Steve’s chest with his cane, playful confrontation, “Really, man, you got your little brother to do your dirty work? Couldn’t face me yourself, huh?”
Steve eyes fall guiltily, “It wasn’t like—”
“I know,” Eddie says, softer, turning away to crawl onto Steve’s bed, “Come on over here and tell me all about how it is,” he winces, settling back against the pillows, “Or don’t. Hey, I kinda banged up my ankle, so I know something really cool you could do without saying a word, if you want.”
Choices. Eddie came climbing through Steve’s window and perched on his bed like he belongs there to give him a choice. There’s only one to be made.
They do talk after a while, three re-runs into Happy Days and well into Eddie’s third ankle massage.
Make me write
#for a little context#the fic is mostly about eddie's recovery and what it's like being in hawkins after everything#he also struggles with trich#its an eddie angst fest basically with lots of comfort from steve of course#steddie#wip
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Day two of @merwainefest: “who did this to you?” + hurt/comfort
#merwaine fest#merwainefest2023#day two: “who did this to you?” + hurt/comfort#merwaine#mergwaine#bbc merlin#Merlin#Gwaine#merlin fanfic#my fic
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