Friday: Hurt/Comfort

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Hello, everyone. I’m username and today's theme is Hurt/Comfort - pure and simple. :) Prompts can be anything that even remotely involves one character being hurt or suffering or sick or traumatized in some way, and another character being all loving and protective and comforting. If you're here, you know what to do. ;)


Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
If your prompt or fill contains anything that can be a trigger for the reader, please add a warning for that to give the reader the chance to decide if they want to read or not.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Supernatural, Sam Winchester/Gabriel - past sexual trauma
+ Supernatural, Dean Winchester/Crowley - Dean did a little more than push Crowley around while he was a demon
+ White Collar, Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey/(Elizabeth Burke) - prison nightmares

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2015 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.

Comments

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam Winchester/Gabriel - past sexual trauma

Fill- Shame and Chocolate, T

[reeby10.livejournal.com]

Sam doesn’t tell Gabriel at first because it doesn’t seem like relevant information and because maybe somewhere deep down he feels ashamed.

He’s a big guy, has been since he was a teenager, and he definitely knows how to protect himself. All his life he’s been raised on this one idea of masculinity, of power and strength and the hunt, and that hasn’t helped either. That’s why he can barely even admit to himself most days that he was raped.

Gabriel finds out, of course he does, he’s always been good at snooping in other people’s business and finding out their deepest darkest secrets. The only good thing about it is that Sam’s certain Gabriel won’t use it against him like the angel does when he’s playing the Trickster. But that’s really not a consolation when Sam’s private shame is brought to light and he can no longer pretend that he’s just not ready for sex or even that he’s ok at all.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Gabriel says as Sam shakes and tries his damnedest not to cry. He knows that little human glitch probably wouldn’t make Gabriel think any less of him, especially with what he knows now, but it’s a reflex that he hasn’t quite broken himself of. “It’s gonna be ok. I can get you some chocolate?”

That makes Sam smile because it’s so very Gabriel. In his mind, everything but their colossally fucked up families can be fixed with enough candy, and Sam’s even found that sometimes that is the case. This, though, is something entirely different.

“It’s really, really not,” Sam says, voice a little hoarse from held back tears and the toxic emotions bubbling up in the back of his throat. “But you can get me some chocolate anyway.”

There’s a snap and a box of chocolate appears on the bed next to them, a nice mix of both of their favorites. Gabriel grabs one of them, the weird maple flavored bacon in dark chocolate that Sam secretly loves but usually refuses to eat because it has so many calories, and gingerly offers a piece to him. Sam smiles again because even now his angelic boyfriend is pretty much the most caring person he’s ever met.

“Can I… hug you?” Gabriel asks after a moment of watching him savor the chocolate.

Sam pauses for a moment, thinking, then nods, and he’s suddenly enveloped in a warm set of arms, the phantom brush of wings tickling his back. It’s exactly what he needs and he sinks into it, grabbing Gabriel’s shirt with two hands and holding on for dear life.

They sit like that until Sam’s lost all track of time and the miniscule shakes that wracked his body are gone. The tears and self loathing are still there, resting just below the surface, but Sam is comfortable and loved and he thinks that maybe someday that will be enough.

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean Winchester/Crowley - Dean did a little more than push Crowley around while he was a demon

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey/(Elizabeth Burke) - prison nightmares

Fill

[sapphire2309]

The walls are too close again. The walls are too close and he's in a cell again and it's okay, it's okay, but he feels like he's drowning.

Three walls, iron bars, his art on the walls and he could choke on the air, it's terrifyingly cold, he doesn't remember it being this cold. Or maybe it's just him that's cold. Freezing.

How did I get here, how did I get here, how did I get here, he chants in his head, a cold sweat trickling down his back. He keeps looking around but the picture doesn't change, he whips his head around and around like that'll move the walls or turn them into something different but it does nothing at all, he's still there, still trapped-

he wakes up with his hand clamped over his mouth and a scream just rising in his throat.

How did I get here, he thinks one more time, and then sees Peter, lying on his back, fast asleep. He turns to see Elizabeth, curled around a pillow. He's not in prison.

He carefully uncovers his mouth - it's a habit he got into, after waking both Burkes five times, sleeping after everyone else, with his hand clamped over his mouth, and sees a bite on his middle finger. Who did that, he wonders for just a moment.

He bit his finger, it's bleeding. This is the first time it's happened. There's no way he's getting out of bed to put a band aid on it.

Still trembling, he shifts closer to Peter, lays his head on Peter's chest, and carefully hugs Peter without waking him.

He doesn't fall asleep immediately, but he does feel warmer.

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

DCU, Jason Todd/Tim Drake, We are / not traitors but the lights go out.

fill

[likewinning.livejournal.com]

swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces

He never had any clear pictures of Jason. Of Robin, yes – swinging from buildings like some street version of Tarzan, nose bloody from a lucky elbow to the face, posed on a rooftop like some statue of Peter Pan. Together with Batman, and Tim's breath always catches when he sees those, because Jason looked – so – happy.

But Jason – the boy underneath the costume that Bruce kept beneath a glass case, the boy everyone talked about like he was more than Robin – Tim never caught a glimpse of him, before he was gone. Never heard his voice, never knew about the calluses his hands would have, the muscles in every part of him, until Jason held a knife to his throat and held him against him.

No one ever said Jason's name, before then, except Bruce. Tim would wait for it, would try to taunt it out of people, would whisper it aloud when he saw the case, but it would never come. Jason, the one who died. Jason, who when he came back –

When he came back, Tim wanted to apologize. Wanted to say he had tried to live up to his memory, had tried not to betray Robin, betray him -

But with a knife at his throat he couldn't be Tim Drake, couldn't be anyone but Robin himself, who threatened back.

Jason's voice, he knows, is not what it must have been once. Once it must have been joyful, free, something Tim has maybe never been at all – not since the earthquake, not since his mother's death, not since he began to understand just what he'd gotten himself into. Now Jason's voice is rough, biting as teeth on Tim's neck, hard as the grip of his hands on Tim's shoulders as he pushes Tim into walls, throws him to the pavement, does whatever he wants because –

Because he was here first.

It's not that Tim doesn't fight. He does, he does. Kicks where Jason punches, covers Jason's mouth with his when he has to, offers his hand or a fist or something in between -

With him, now, Jason is never Robin, the boy who died and never really came back. Never Red Hood, never any of the names Bruce or the others called him. He is only Jason, and he is, Tim knows, only trying to find answers under Tim's skin. Tim only hopes that he can help.

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Harley Quinn/Batman, he visits her in Arkham

fill

[likewinning.livejournal.com]

She touches his face, tries to slip her fingers under the cowl and gets a shock for her efforts. "You know," she comments, "Electroshock therapy works more often than you'd think."

"I'm not here for that, Harley."

"No? Then what's with the social call? Or did you finally decide to join the rest of the freaks here?"

"Maybe someday," he says, and she swears she hears a smile there under the scowl, but it's hard to tell. It's dark, no windows, just the little pane of glass that lets in light from the hallway.

Harley hates the dark. She should've picked a different city, somewhere like Metropolis where criminals are allowed to go out in the daytime.

"So, what is it then?" Harley asks. She sits back down on her bed, and the springs squeak under her. She remembers making them squeak before, with the Joker and Ivy and –

Not him, never here. With him the sheets were always soft, imported silk or Egyptian cotton, the kind of luxury someone else might've killed for.

"Did you come to tell me the Joker's dead?" she asks.

She can't even tell if he blinks, but she feels like maybe he does. Feels him move closer, until he's standing next to her. "I thought you'd rather hear it from me. That maybe then you'd believe it."

"Why?" she laughs, and it hurts – hurts more when he touches her shoulder. It's all wrong. They're both supposed to both be in costume, or both out – not like this. "Did you think I wouldn't feel it?"

And she did – she hadn't even seen the bastard in almost a year, time spent with Ivy and then locked up here, believing she was done and then finding herself in trouble again – but she still felt it, knew that this time he wouldn't be back, laughing all the while.

"What did you see in that clown?" he asks, and without missing a beat she asks, "What do you see in me?"

He's quiet, so long she thinks he's slipped away, and then he says, "You're brilliant. A mind like yours, you could've been anyone."

She can't see his eyes in the dark, not really, but she looks where she thinks they might be and says, "Pot, kettle – bat." She throws her head back and laughs at her own stupid joke, and by the time she opens her eyes he's gone again.

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

The Flash (TV), Barry Allen/Caitlin Snow, taking care of her when she's hungover

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Any, any, I'm giving up on love cause love's givin' up on me

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Any,any,you can't hate someone who's dead

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

The Flash (TV), Leonard Snart/Barry Allen, neither of them are great nursemaids

[scribblemyname]

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Maria Hill/any male, all she really wants to do is curl into a ball and sleep, but [significant other] would rather make her eat soup and drink water and use the tissue box instead of sniffing endlessly

Fill- Sick, Maria/Jasper, PG

[reeby10.livejournal.com]

Being sick was basically the most awful thing in the world, even worse than getting shot or being captured by enemy forces. Those things were easy, she had training for them, she could deal. What she could not deal with was coughing and sneezing and running nose and chills that simply would not go away.

Still, there's no rest for secret agents, and no down time either until she makes it to her apartment far, far later than she would like. It's dark and quiet when she gets in, though Jasper should have made it home before she did. She had a fleeting thought that maybe he just didn't want to deal with her while she was sick, but he really wasn't that kind of guy.

There's a faint light underneath the closed bedroom door and she smiles a little. Looks like he didn't go to his own apartment, so at least she'll have him to huddle against as she curls into a ball and tries to sleep away the sniffles.

“Hey,” she says, holding back a cough as she opens the door and sees him sitting on his side of the bed with a book, room lit by a single bedside table.

“Hey, yourself,” he offers, smiling and setting the book down. There's a bowl and a mug on the side table and he picks the mug up, handing it to her when she approaches and leaves a kiss on the top of his head.

“What's this?” she asks, taking the mug. She takes a deep sniff of it and reels back, eyes watering. She doesn't know what it is, but it smells incredibly potent. And disgusting.

He smiles, probably knowing exactly what she's thinking. “My mom's secret recipe,” he says. “It'll help with the coughing and the sore throat.”

“I'm fine,” she says a little petulantly Her argument is ruined by a coughing fit which just makes him smile wider, and she glares as soon as she can catch her breath. “I hate you, you know.”

“I know. Now drink your tea,” he says. “Then I have some soup, it'll clear your sinuses right out. And then drink plenty of water before you sleep. There are two new boxes of tissues on your side. I saw you sniffling all the way through your meetings today.”

She sighs, trying to hold on to her annoyance, but totally fails. It really is nice to have someone who cares, even if all she really wanted was sleep, not tea and soup and tissues. “I said I was fine.”

“You did,” he says very agreeably, but looks pointedly at the mug in her hands.

Rolling her eyes and trying to hold back a grimace, she drinks it down then reaches for the soup. There are worse things than having a partner willing to take care of her when she's sick.

[scribblemyname]

The Unusuals, Jason Walsh + Casey Shraeger, she makes an absolutely terrible flu/cold patient, intent rather on going to work and keeping her partner as miserable as she is.

[scribblemyname]

Marvel 616, Clint Barton +/ Kate Bishop, it's his turn to take care of her for once

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Any, any, shook me like a ragdoll

[scribblemyname]

any, any/any, all she wants is a hug, no words, no questions, just a hug

Fill: X-Men (comics), Rogue + Nightcrawler

[tinamachina.livejournal.com]

Rogue meandered through the halls of the Jean Grey School for the Gifted, formerly Xavier’s place. The big ol’ house felt stranger now than when Rogue first walked through the doors all those years ago. It’s not just all the physical changes—the school had been knocked down and rebuilt Lord-knows how many times.

She had been a reformed “bad guy”, and left one family (her adopted mama Mystique) for another larger, stranger family, the X-Men. They warmed up to her, and she to them. She became a teammate, and a sister.

But now that family was torn in two. Friends were now enemies. Some had left. Others had died.

She wasn’t the only one who felt it.

She found him sitting in the shadows, watching his students play outside. His bright yellow eyes caught hers and he smiled. That smile seemed more heavy and pained than that bright, devilish grin all those years ago.

He could always make her laugh, even when she didn't feel like it. Other times, he was the one to give her the "Come to Jesus" talk without trying to evangelize her. He was her brother; it was be years before they understood just how much.

Her powers could drain him. Her strength could crush him. But when she extended her arms outwards, he immediately reached out and wrapped his arms around her. He really was a big ol' teddy bear, all fuzz and warmth. Kurt was always good for a hug, no questions, no words required.

“Missed ya, big brother,” Rogue whispered.

“Missed you too, my little sister,” he replied in his Old World accent, and she could hear the happiness in his voice.

[scribblemyname]

Agents of SHIELD, Bobbi Morse, "When this is all over, I'm going to cry for a week." She does.

[isdon-isgood9.livejournal.com]

When Skye asks the question it shocks Bobbi for a moment. Then she answers truthfully, "When this is all over, I'm going to cry for a week."

Skye looks like she doesn't believe her but it's true. Bobbi can't let anything affect her focus during a mission. Everything gets pushed to the back burner but when they're done, in those quiet moments at home she breaks. There's something inside of her that she can't keep in and she finds herself on the floor, her chest heaving with sobs, until she feels nothing but tired and wrecked, only to wake up a couple of hours later to eat, drink and, repeat the process. It works for her. It allows her to keep focus.

She also knows that things aren't always that simple.

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Any,any,I need to repent a sin for a sin

Fill: Sleepy Hollow, Jenny/Frank

[helsinkibaby.livejournal.com]

(apologies for liberties taken with punctuation!)

The battle is over, the war won and after the end, Jenny and Frank beside one another, close in proximity yet oceans apart. 

"So," Frank asks quietly, "what happens now?" Jenny thinks she knows what he means, quirks an eyebrow just to make sure. He inclines his head, edges of his lips beginning to curl. "With us, I mean?"

Jenny doesn't blink. "Is there still an us?"

Frank reaches out, covers her hand with his and just like that, the first bridge is crossed. "I know there's a lot to talk about... a lot to repent..."

Jenny turns her hand in his, laces their fingers together. "A sin for a sin?"

"I did a lot of bad things, Jenny," he reminds her. "I've lied... I've killed... betrayed your trust..."

"You weren't exactly yourself," she reminds him. "And let's not forget, I know a thing or two about evil possessing you and making you act against your will." His eyes don't move from hers as she steels herself for her own confession. "Besides... I've sinned too. I was all ready to use those bullets... I lost faith... in you, in us... doesn't the Bible have something to say about that being a bigger sin?"

He moves closer to her, so their thighs are touching. "So what are you saying? We're even?"

Her eyes drift from his eyes to his lips. "I'm saying it's a new world," she says, "where we can make a fresh start. If you want to."

Frank's smile is brighter than anything she's ever seen but she doesn't get to admire it for long before he kisses her. 

Somehow, she doesn't think that's anything to complain about. 
 

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Superman: TAS, Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, his boyfriend is also the alien superhero that's been systematically ruining his life for the past few years. How is he supposed to take that well?

[jaune-chat.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Peter/Emma, comforting each other after a bad night at the hospital

[jaune-chat.livejournal.com]

Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock and John, saying the unforgivable, and forgiving what you cannot say

[jaune-chat.livejournal.com]

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bruce/Betty, for once, he can use his unwanted strength to be her rock

[jaune-chat.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Simon and River, after one of River's bad nights, the calm after the storm

[sapphire2309]

any, any/any, as if we could be enough for each other.

no fill yet

[tigriswolf]

Do you want them to actually be enough for each or not?

[jaune-chat.livejournal.com]

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, in the long hunt for the Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes, Sam sometimes has to keep Steve together when lead after lead turns into ghosts and ashes.

[sapphire2309]

any, any/+any, i'll forgive you as many times as you want me to.

Fill - Star Trek AOS [PG]

[peppermint-wow.livejournal.com]

(Kirk/McCoy, Academy era)

---

Jim tipped forward and puked on Leonard's shoes.
 
"Sorry," he gasped, grinning as he straightened and stumbled back into the exterior of the bar.
 
Leonard himself was just tipsy enough to not care. Maybe tomorrow morning when he realized vomit was a bitch to clean, maybe tomorrow afternoon when he realized he could still smell the heady stench of bile clinging to his shoelaces, but for now he simply toed at the alcohol/hot wings slurry and chuckled. "It's okay."
 
Jim's lips were wet, his chin covered in stubble and regurgitated food. "Come on," he slurred, snagging Leonard's sleeve. "Homeward bound."
 
---
 
"Sorry," Jim mumbled from beneath a pile of blankets as Leonard clicked the thermostat a degree higher.
 
"'s fine, Jim," Leonard said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
 
Leonard glanced at the lump that was Jim, a small huddled mass curled in the center of his bed. He'd tried taking him to the campus hospital but Jim had freaked, so now he was stuck with babysitting duty, sweating his balls off while Jim shook with fever.
 
"Gonna let me give you a hypo now?" Leonard asked.
 
"No," Jim muttered pitifully.
 
"Too bad," Leonard grumbled, pulling one from his desk drawer.
 
---
 
"Whoa, sorry," Jim said, ducking out of the bathroom while Leonard hastily covered himself with a towel.
 
"Damnit, Jim!" Leonard growled, securing the towel around his waist and following Jim into their room. "Knock, why don't you?"
 
"Sorry," he said again, wide grin spreading across his face.
 
Leonard frowned. "What?"
 
Jim shrugged, blue eyes taking in Leonard's shoulders, chest. "You're kind of hot, in a grumbly sort of way."
 
Leonard rolled his eyes and stepped back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
 
"Just a friendly observation!" Jim shouted, chuckling. "Forgive me!"
 
"Yeah, yeah," Leonard huffed, toweling himself dry.
 
---
 
Leonard startled awake at the sound of the fire alarm.
 
Jim cursed and tapped the wall panel. The alarm died but the heavy smell of smoke lingered, wafting from the small kitchenette and filling the entire room.
 
"Sorry," Jim muttered, stomping past Leonard. He cracked a window and watched as the smoke slowly began to dissipate. "Tried to cook," he explained. "Kind of failed."
 
"You okay?" Leonard asked, eying the angry red welts decorating the back of Jim's hand.
 
"It's fine," Jim said, but sat down anyway and let Leonard dish out a heaping dose of burn cream for breakfast.
 
---
 
"Sorry," Jim said, blue eyes wide.
 
Leonard stared at Jim's mouth, brain glitching as he tried to process the barely-there touch of Jim's lips to his own. They'd been talking about nothing, Jim sitting in Leonard's chair, Leonard with his arms crossed and hip cocked against the desk.
 
His arms were still crossed, desk still digging into his thigh. Except now Jim was standing, staring, looking about ready to bolt. "What?" Leonard asked.
 
"I said I'm sorry," Jim repeated.
 
Leonard blinked, finally, and uncrossed his arms, hands lifting to frame Jim's face. "Don't be," he murmured, pulling Jim back in.

---

End.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, some wounds go far deeper than skin