#also once nightmare is back home and calmed down

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Danny Fenton's Home for Recently Deceased Children

After Spectra crosses a line by preying on the emotions of the children under Danny's protection, he enlists Walker's help to get rid of them while he takes the kids to the safety of Amity Park for a little field trip.

For the Prompts: Danny's parents complete the portal sooner than canon and he becomes half ghost at a Much Younger age. How does this change things? Do his parents find out? Does he keep it a secret? Does Tucker (friends since kindergarten or so) know? Does Vlad get involved earlier, and if so, does this change his opinions/plans? [feel free to go wild with this!!] {From @octolingkiera} An older Danny has grown up and put his ghost hunting days behind him. Now, Danny runs a home for recently deceased children. {From @tomorrows_problem} Walker finds out that Spectra has been routinely preying on young ghosts, and… he's a lot angrier about it than Danny had expected. {From liketolaugh} Dash and Dani go to a haunted house {From EctoplasmicSoda} and Somebody in Amity realizes that they recognize one of the ghosts as an old friend who died {From @higgidigs}

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[Warning for implied/referenced child death]

There was no measure by which one could say Danny had led a typical life. To begin with, ever since his parents build that ghost portal when he was in second grade, it had only ever been half a life. It's hard for most people to even imagine having to go through as much pain as Danny did that day, especially as a child.

Even now, nearly thirty years later, he still had nightmares about it.

Before him stood the gargantuan, gaping mouth of a metal beast, glowing green saliva dripping from its steel teeth, easily twenty—no thirty times bigger than he was. And seven-year-old Danny, in his infinite naivete, walked right into it. His footsteps made a dull, wet squelch against its wet tongue, and when its teeth closed behind him, leaving him in complete darkness save for the saliva and its toxic green glow, the agony began.

"Hey." 

A gentle voice broke through the terror and Danny snapped awake with a sharp inhale. A large, warm hand was wrapped around his own and he looked to the side to see Dash, eyes still closed, yawn at him, blasting him with morning breath.

"Nightmare again?" asked his husband. "You're safe. Go back to sleep. I've got you."

Danny took a breath to calm his racing heartbeat and shifted to get more comfortable under the covers. Dash had already fallen back asleep, not having fully woken up, and Danny watched the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Danny was safe here. The boundless energy of ectoplasm was no longer trying to hurt him. It couldn't if it wanted to. What had once caused him so much fear and anguish was now a source of comfort to him.

"It's time to get up, actually," Danny said.

Dash groaned and rolled over in bed, somehow managing not to let go of Danny's hand in the process. "Noo."

Danny chuckled. "You can keep sleeping—you need more than I do, anyway. You just have to let me go."

The grip tightened on his hand. "Nooooo."

He laughed a little louder.

"Come on, the kids are waiting on me."

Dash huffed and pouted but released his hand and allowed him to get out of bed.

Nightmares notwithstanding, Danny wasn't that scared, hurting kid anymore.

He was a grown man in his thirties. He'd survived more than most people twice his age, and come out better for it. But now, he knew that he never should have had to go through what he did. He shouldn't have had to grow up in fear of his parents because of what their invention had done to him. He shouldn't have had to spend the majority of his childhood fighting super-powered villains that no one else was strong enough to face up to. He shouldn't have had to rely on a mentally-unstable fruitloop as his only adult confidant.

And now that he was an adult, and his strange approximation of a life had finally started to settle down, he'd decided that no other child would have to go through anything like what he did.

And so, a few years ago, he'd started Danny Fenton's Home for Recently Deceased Children. The word "recently" was applied pretty loosely. The idea was to support those who had died young in their transition to ghosthood, teach them the ins-and-outs of the Ghost Zone, how to use their powers and that sort of thing, and then let them go off on their own once they felt ready, with the promise that the home would always be there if they needed help.

When he'd first opened it up—a quaint little cottage in the Ghost Zone, just a stone's throw away from the Amity Park Ghost Portal, so Danny and his then-boyfriend Dash could visit their human loved ones easily (Dash himself was human too, but had been a very good sport when Danny proposed moving into the Ghost Zone together for this and agreed easily)—many of the ghost children who came to stay with him were not-so-recently deceased, but had never had any support of guidance when they were thrust into the Ghost Zone to make their own way, and had figured 'better late than never', and that was fine.

Since then, Danny managed to bring in young ghosts shortly after their deaths. And a little while ago, the Ghost Zone had deemed him worthy of the role he'd carved out for himself, and began depositing newly formed ghost children right on his doorstep. The home grew from a small cottage to a sprawling mansion with well-kept grounds (courtesy of Sam coming to help with the garden once a week) where the kids could play.

Lately, however, they'd had a little trespassing problem.

It had taken a while to notice. Spectra was sneaky, and most of the kids didn't know that she wasn't supposed to be there. Danny began to suspect when the kids started coming in for lunch looking tired and miserable. It wasn't until he overheard two of the kids talking that he knew for sure.

Twenty years ago, Danny would have tried to solve the problem all on his own, but that therapist Jazz had finally convinced him to go to after nearly a decade of urging had taught him that it was okay to ask for help and he didn't have to shoulder everything on his own. The Ghost Zone did have a legal system, dubious though it was, so Danny had called Walker to come for a meeting today, rather than risk the safety of his wards by trying to catch Spectra unawares and start a fight where they could get caught in the crossfire.

Danny walked down to the kitchen and started on breakfast. Tuesday was bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs with cheese. A good, protein-heavy breakfast for a busy day of training with ghost powers.

Ghosts didn't need to eat, but Danny did. And anyway, that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy food. He'd found out early on in this endeavor that providing regular meals helped ease the transition into death, as well as creating a solid structure to build the days around.

As usual, Nellie was the first one down the stairs, drawn there by the small of food. She was a permanent resident of the Home for Recently Deceased Children, and the only resident who actually needed to eat food, since she was part human—though not quite as human as Danny. They'd learned after a few years that she didn't age past the physical age she'd and Danny had both been when Vlad cloned her, that is to say, ten-years-old. 

"Morning, Nellie," Danny greeted with a smile. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and mumbled a greeting. "Extra cheese, right?"

"Mhm."

A few minutes later, Tina and Nita came down the stairs together (twins who'd died in a terrible house fire and whom Danny had been teaching to cope with their triggering fire cores), followed shortly by the teen who'd been staying there for about a year and was currently trying to decide on a ghost name (currently torn between Invisio and Killy the Kid—Danny was trying to gently encourage the former choice) but was still called Steven for the time being.

"I've got a meeting with Walker this morning," Danny told them as he served up breakfast, then he affected a southern accent to explain, "he's the law 'round these parts," for the benefit of the girls who had only been in the Ghost Zone a couple months and were still learning about it. "Hopefully between the two of us, we'll be able to find a solution for the Spectra problem and you won't have to deal with her creeping on you kids anymore."

Steven cleared his throat meaningfully.

"And young adults," Danny amended.

As more kids came down to the kitchen, they were looped into the situation. An hour or so later, Walker came knocking on the door, and three of the younger ones raced to answer the door. Danny followed a little slower, content to let them have their fun.

Walked removed his hat respectfully and nodded at the little ones.

"Mornin' young'uns," he greeted. "I'm here to see all y'all's caretaker, but I brought summat for ya." Walker reached into the pocket of his big, white coat, and pulled out some green lozenges for them. "There you are. Suck 'em slow. Be sure not to choke, now."

The little ones took the lozenges excitedly and ran off to share them with the others.

Walker stood there, his huge frame filling the entire doorway, even as he stooped to step in when Danny asked him to. He never would have expected the lawman to have a soft spot for kids. He certainly hadn't gone easy on Danny at that age. Then again, these kids hadn't broken any laws as far as Walker knew.

"Ectea?" Danny offered, leading Walker into another room so they could meet privately. "I can put some water on."

"No, thank ya," Walker said, taking a seat. "What here's this problem you done called me about?"

"Penelope Spectra," Danny said. "You know her, right? Or at least know of her? She was one of the common interlopers in Amity Park a while back."

"I know of her," Walker confirmed.

"Well she gains power from draining the emotions of young people, and as of about a month ago now, she's expanded to young ghosts," Danny explained. "She's been cornering my kids during their outdoor time, luring them to where I can't protect them, and preying on their emotions."

The speed at which Walker's mild expression morphed into one of utter fury was alarming. Danny had thought that the lawman would want to take action, but he was usually a lot more by-the-book. He certainly hadn't expected this degree of anger.

"I'll take care of this," Walker promised darkly. "Nobody preys on kids as long as I'm the law."

"Oh... uh... okay. What should we do?"

"You should take the kids on a field trip somewhere safe, maybe take 'em to Amity Park. I'll take care of Spectra. And I won't go easy just 'cause she's a lady. I ain't that kind of gentleman. I'll come to getcha when she's safely locked away."

Danny snapped his mouth shut abruptly and blinked in surprise. "Uh.... yeah, alright. I'll wake up Dash and tell the kids to get ready. They'll probably be excited by an impromptu field trip to the real world."

"You best be gettin' along, then." Walker nodded and stood up. "Me, I got some preparations to make in the meanwhile."

"Of course," Danny said. "We'll try to be gone before you get back so you won't have anybody underfoot. Excuse me."

"Likewise."

The two of them left the room, going their separate ways to get things ready.

As expected, the kids were thrilled by the prospect of going to the real world. It wasn't like they never got to go, Dash or Danny would usually bring one or two along with them when they went into town for groceries, or to visit friends, or things of that nature, but it was rare for them all to go at once in a group field trip.

Danny texted some of his and Dash's friends to meet them at the portal so they could split into smaller groups with supervision. The majority of Amity Parkers didn't mind ghosts as long as they weren't actively causing trouble, but there were still a few ghost hunters around, so Danny didn't want the kids running around without human accompaniment.

It took longer than he'd thought to wake up his husband and corral the kids out the door. Even though the Ghost Portal wasn't far, it still took nearly an hour for the group to get there and get through.

There had been a time when Danny thought he'd never get used to seeing the human side of the portal again. After Fenton Works was destroyed, leaving only the ghost portal still standing in the smouldering crater, he and his sister had arranged for the crater to be leveled out and lined with concrete with a staircase leading up the sidewalk for easy access to and from the Ghost Zone. It had been a hot spot for a while, with curious locals visiting just to see what it was like, but now it was just a tourist trap. A place to take photos and leave without daring to take a step into the other side.

Over a decade had passed since then, though, and it had become a familiar sight over the years. Sam and Tucker were both there to meet them—Tucker worked from home doing computer things, and Sam was her own boss and set her own hours, so it was no trouble for them to make time on a workday. Kwan was there too. He worked an office job but took any excuse to call in 'sick', as was Paulina, whose work schedule was apparently in a lull right now. Poindexter had also come; he wasn't a human, but since he resided at the high school now, he was a familiar enough fixture in town to be a safe chaperone.

Thankfully, it was the week before Halloween, meaning Amity was friendlier than usual toward ghosts, since there were more tourists than usual coming to "The Most Haunted Town in America".

It took a while to split everyone up in groups based on what they planned to do.

"I want to go to a haunted house!" Nellie shouted excitedly. She loved screwing with haunted houses. She was the only one.

"I'll take her," Dash volunteered. "Anyone else wanna come to a haunted house?" There were no takers.

"Amity Botanical Gardens lets ghosts in free on Tuesdays," Sam suggested.

"Oh oh! I wanna go!"

"I'll take a group to the park for some competitive sports!" Kwan said.

"Oh I am in!" Steven agreed immediately, followed shortly but some of the middle-school aged kids and Ghoulie, who was six.

"Try not to play too rough?" Danny pleaded.

Paulina volunteered to take a group of the girls to her office for makeovers. Sidney's group was gonna mess with tourists—his personal favorite past time. Tucker decided to introduce a group to the joys of table top games at the game store. And Danny ended up taking the shyer ones to a kids movie at the theater where there would be little risk of having to engage with anyone.

"We'll meet at Nasty Burger at noon," Danny told them. "Try not to be late, okay?"

—

All of the groups except Danny's were late for the noon meet-up, but he'd pretty much expected that, not that he wasn't still disappointed. Dash and Dani, at least, were only about three minutes late.

"You guys have fun?"

"Oh definitely," Dash said.

"I scared the pants off the zombie actors!" Nellie enthused. "And Dash and I messed with the spooky nurse. I made stuff float around and Dash pretended not to notice anything so she thought she was going crazy!" She doubled over in mid-air, flipping over and over as she cackled.

"Why are you teaching her to gaslight people?" Danny asked his husband.

"I would never do such a thing, you're crazy," Dash said, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. "How was the movie?"

"Oh, you know," Danny said. "More derivative Disney schlock. The kids like it, and that's what matters."

"We totally dominated!" Ghoulie announce as he entered the restaurant sitting triumphantly on Stevens shoulders. They were covered in dirt and grass stains—no doubt badges of honor, since they knew damn well they could get them off in an instant with intangibility.

"It was so unfair!" groaned Billy, trudging in after them. "Everyone knows Steven's the tallest! He should have had a handicap!"

Kwan followed, laughing good-naturedly. "Come on, it's just for fun," he said. "You don't have to take it that seriously."

A few minutes later Tucker and Paulina came in about the same time, one group showing off their new makeup and outfits, and the other enthusiastically rambling about their various victories and defeats.

Sam's group came in next, and Sam explained that they'd been held up by security when Nita and Tina accidentally incinerated a rare flower bush. Thankfully they accepted Sam's card and a free replacement from her, since an internet search was deemed enough evidence to prove she was trustworthy.

At half-past noon, Danny was starting to get concerned about the last group. Had he been wrong about Poindexter being able to protect them? Had they been caught by ghost hunters?

He needn't have worried.

When they finally showed up, Poindexter apologized profusely for losing track of time. It was understandable, though, since he didn't have any kind of watch or anything and they'd been outside, without a clock in sight.

The humans, including Danny and Nellie, as well as a few of the ghosts, all ordered some food, and they were just negotiating swapping groups and deciding who wanted to go with two when one of Walker's prison guards came into the Nasty Burger.

"Mr. Fenton?" the guard said. "Walker sent me to inform you that Penelope Spectra has been taken into custody and it is safe to return to your home. That is all."

"Thanks," Danny said. The guard vanished, and Danny turned back to the group. "So what do you guys think? Should we head back home or do you want to stay out a few more hours?"

"Stay! Stay!" the kids all chanted.

Danny laughed. "Alright, looks like that's settled then. Let's get back to sorting out groups for this afternoon, then."

They all enjoyed the rest of the day in Amity Park before finally returning to the Ghost Zone at sundown and having dinner together, discussing the highs and lows of the day with the comforting knowledge that they wouldn't have to worry about the menace that was Penelope Spectra messing with them for a good, long, time.

All of the groups except Danny's were late for the noon meet-up, but he'd pretty much expected that, not that he wasn't still disappointed. Dash and Dani, at least, were only about three minutes late.

"You guys have fun?"

"Oh definitely," Dash said.

"I scared the pants off the zombie actors!" Nellie enthused. "And Dash and I messed with the spooky nurse. I made stuff float around and Dash pretended not to notice anything so she thought she was going crazy!" She doubled over in mid-air, flipping over and over as she cackled.

"Why are you teaching her to gaslight people?" Danny asked his husband.

"I would never do such a thing, you're crazy," Dash said, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. "How was the movie?"

"Oh, you know," Danny said. "More derivative Disney schlock. The kids like it, and that's what matters."

"We totally dominated!" Ghoulie announce as he entered the restaurant sitting triumphantly on Stevens shoulders. They were covered in dirt and grass stains—no doubt badges of honor, since they knew damn well they could get them off in an instant with intangibility.

"It was so unfair!" groaned Billy, trudging in after them. "Everyone knows Steven's the tallest! He should have had a handicap!"

Kwan followed, laughing good-naturedly. "Come on, it's just for fun," he said. "You don't have to take it that seriously."

A few minutes later Tucker and Paulina came in about the same time, one group showing off their new makeup and outfits, and the other enthusiastically rambling about their various victories and defeats.

Sam's group came in next, and Sam explained that they'd been held up by security when Nita and Tina accidentally incinerated a rare flower bush. Thankfully they accepted Sam's card and a free replacement from her, since an internet search was deemed enough evidence to prove she was trustworthy.

At half-past noon, Danny was starting to get concerned about the last group. Had he been wrong about Poindexter being able to protect them? Had they been caught by ghost hunters?

When they finally showed up, Poindexter apologized profusely for losing track of time. One of his group members, the ghost of a nine-year-old boy named Max, had run into an old friend, a girl who was now a senior in high school that had known him when he was alive. It had been a tearful reunion, and she'd absolutely refused to let him go before he assured her that he was happy and safe and loved, and that he would come to visit her again.

It was only recently that Max had felt brave enough to return to Amity Park. He was the first ghost since the home opened that had actually been from Amity Park originally, so it had been harder for him than for others. Danny was glad he was able to talk to his childhood best friend again, and that he felt comfortable enough to reassure her about his situation. He'd talked about her a lot when he first came to stay at the home, and Danny knew he missed her.

The humans, including Danny and Nellie, as well as a few of the ghosts, all ordered some food, and they were just negotiating swapping groups and deciding who wanted to go with two when one of Walker's prison guards came into the Nasty Burger.

"Mr. Fenton?" the guard said. "Walker sent me to inform you that Penelope Spectra has been taken into custody and it is safe to return to your home. That is all."

"Thanks," Danny said. The guard vanished, and Danny turned back to the group. "So what do you guys think? Should we head back home or do you want to stay out a few more hours?"

"Stay! Stay!" the kids all chanted.

Danny laughed. "Alright, looks like that's settled then. Let's get back to sorting out groups for this afternoon, then."

They all enjoyed the rest of the day in Amity Park before finally returning to the Ghost Zone at sundown and having dinner together, discussing the highs and lows of the day with the comforting knowledge that they wouldn't have to worry about the menace that was Penelope Spectra messing with them for a good, long, time.

[ancha-aus]

*me grinning proudly* :D

I got shook once again!! (I really just need to draw like one picture of my little persona being shook. it is too fitting)

They grow up! It makes sense their state changes. Also because they grow up and are treated as mor elike adults so then it makes even more sense. (I wonder if Nightmae was arlways treated more as child while Dream was treated more resepctfully and stuff. because of their different roles and purposes)

The guys use ANY chance they can get to wear it. Hell i think that corss even knew what the masks meant because dream is SO MAD about it. He knows someone is tricking his innocent sweet brother to make him do this!

So cross joins the gang and also learns just how much the other three TREASURE those masks. He eventually gets a glimps of Ccino carefully cleaning his own mask as he smiles proudly at it. Cross starts to fully understand just how important those masks are. (corss probably cried a little when he got gifted one. He always thought he would never get one. He was known as the one who betrayed dream after all. That does not equal trustfully. So to have just... teen nightmare walk up to him. Holding out a snowleopart (right?) mask? Just for cross. specially made and it fits perfectly? Cross cried. nightmare would ahve panicked because that wasn't the aim only to just get held so close by cross)

Dream would stare at his brother. being kept from him. staying away from him because of that very mask that they both used to adore. the very mask that nightmare would let dream wear because it made dream happy. Nightmare smiling at him. All of those memories. aparently taken away from him as this same mask now hides nightmare from him. Maybe dream just wanted to be able to see nightmare. Even if it was just a cruel smile, caused by some unknown force. or the magic. only... for when the mask to finally fall. to just see his brother's young face. just as he remembers from all those years ago. Looking back at him terrified with tears running down his face as he stands between dream adn that filthy murderer that shouldn't be allowed to have a mask. but there nightmare stands. being willing to be hit or killed instead of someone who does not deserve to live (in dream opinion). ((dream just in pure denial. believing he needs to save nightmare and make him see the truth... it isreal sad. because it is clearly about grief. Dream can't grief his brother because deep inside he knows nightmare is still alive. yet he can't accepteverything is differnet.))

It is fitting. For dream to damage that one treasured item. because while nightmare exiled dream to protect him. dream came back to hurt those close to nightmare. their intent in their actions was very differnet

Ccino has been young himself before. he will help these two socially awkward teens get together. it is part of his right as parental figure :3 Ccino is very proud of his work. (the knigths are less impressed about it. they still don't approve of error)

OKAY AND ABOUT THE TAGS

the fact that dream tried to include nightmare in the meetings. probably to show him that what he was taught or made to beleive were lies. this is the truth. people are unhappy. those knights are dangerous. don't you see?

but then nightmar ejust crying and freaking out as soon as they mention hurting one of the knights.

So he needs to be out of the meeting but dream doesn't trust just anyone. I love that in the end. dream only truly trusts blue. Only blue proved to be 100% trustworthy. No one else was. And blue is so so strong and trained. Of course dream would ask blue to babysit.

and blue? blue would understand how important this is to dream. How much nightmare means to dream. while others would try to convince dream to just lock nightmare up for a bit. or chain him stuck. blue is the one who udnerstands that dream doens't want that for his now younger twin. blue understands that nightmare is confused and had been hurt and used/misguided. of course he will watch over him! (blue is also the only one who doesn't see it like something bad or less worthy. eveyrone else sniffs at the idea of babysitting. blue sees it for what it is. the ultimate show of trust. and even if it wasn't blue would still take it seriously.)

I just like the idea that eveyrone knows they are together... only for it to turn out they aren't actually dating? and now no one knows if they aren't dating because they are like in a platonic relationship kinda deal. or just not dating because they haven't made it official yet.

Mm, New Age au my beloved (I just knocked out like... a lot of stuff I needed to do, so here's a quick post before I get back to it) oh! And @ancha-aus hiiiii :]

I know I focus a lot on Night but like... Dream! Dream is a huge part of the story!! So here's a tease at wtf has been up with Dream since Night ate the apple.

So... Dream! He was exiled, but he wasn't left on his lonesome. Nightmare contacted a neighboring kingdom that they already had a treaty with, and asked for them to watch over the crown prince, as he was no longer "fit to rule". They'd accepted, and Night shipped him off at the earliest convenience.

Of course, Dream had no clue it was for his own good, so naturally, after lamenting to this other kingdom about what had happened, how everything changed, he garnered pity, and then support, when Nightmare confirmed Dream's story through letters. Though, the kingdom couldn't afford a war, so they just had to stand idly by.

Dream only stayed there a few years, because by the time he was about 17, he'd become good friends with a squire: Blue. Blue worked around the castle, doing all sorts of tasks for the knight training him, but despite his exceptional skill he remained at the level of Squire due to his age. Blue was very devoted to Dream as his friend and self-proclaimed protector. He looked up to Dream, and was positive he would defeat his brother and take back the throne.

And so, when Dream left on his own to gather experience and followers without endangering this kingdom, Blue followed. Blue was never officially Knighted, but their first night in an Inn, alone on the road, start of their journey, Dream honorarily knighted Blue with his power as a prince. (That's why I refer to Blue as a Knight, even tho no one ever *actually* knighted him and he has no affiliations with any kingdoms.)

Dream was picky with who he recruited and when. He and Blue found a nice little abandoned cottage to start their base of operations, and would travel to recruit people they thought would be of value. Dream wasn't versed in espionage or inner-working over the government, but he knew how to talk to crowds. Sway the people. Plus, feeling emotions helped out too. (I like to think that's something the twins have naturally. Dream's grows with Age, and Night (due to lack of training) only has it when he's corrupted and very little hints when he's young.) So over the course of years, Dream gains more and more support. Like a militia among the neighboring countries as well as in Night's kingdom.

Ink and Cross came together. Ink had been looking for a new job, as he was a mercenary (though his talent was really in the arts) and Cross was a soldier who had left the kingdom a few rivers over that crumbled under a coup. Ink liked Dream's energy right from the start and was completely swayed with the idea of getting a lot of easy work for pay. Meanwhile Cross needed a new hope. Despite leaving a crumbling castle with no hope, Dream seemed to be working towards a better future in this kingdom. Of course he joined him, because that meant he'd live to see an era of peace. (<- of course, Cross finds out this kingdom is actually banger and the current king was slowly working through improving each piece of it, ensuring the whole kingdom could thrive one piece at a time.)

Dream never stopped training, and over the years he lost track of just how different Night was. He lost the script, a bit. His childish mind turning Night's actions all those years ago into a conspiracy. He had an echo-chamber of support, with no outside voice (no Nightmare) to remind him of the truth.

This cottage remains their base, and expands into a small town/camp. Nightmare is taken here when Dream kidnaps him from the castle the first time, too. This place is filled with plants and magic and is thriving. The perfect place to find the golden king.

[navybrat817]

I'll Be Okay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: When Bucky accidentally harms you, he questions whether or not he's worthy of you and your love.

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, accidental injury (small cut), mention of blood, mention of past injuries (not reader's), slight canon divergence (aftermath of torture, PTSD), self-loathing, angst, insecurities, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: This idea hit me and here we are! The quote is a partial lyric change from "I'll Be OK" by Nothing More. Thanks to @yenzys-lucky-charm and @starlightcrystalline for their help. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky had an established routine before he went to bed each night. Screen time stopped an hour before he went to sleep so his mind and body could start to wind down. He changed into his pajamas, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. He read for fifteen minutes, nothing too intense or emotional since heavy topics would make his mind start to race again. The last thing he did were deep breathing exercises, imagining relaxing scenes as he inhaled, exhaled, and released the tension in his body.

Relaxing into the mattress, he smiled to himself. It took him some time to get accustomed to it, but he was glad he gave it a chance since he was determined to make his bedroom a safe haven. It took time and effort, but it worked. The atmosphere was relaxing and soothing. The blackout curtains helped him embrace the darkness since it was darkness of his choice. He hadn’t slept on the floor in months. He felt a sense of peace.

“Night,” you yawned.

It was difficult to see you in the pitch-black room, but he smiled more when he heard your heartbeat. The perfume you wore earlier today still lingered on your skin. Your hand touched his and he felt that sense of peace all over again.

The two of you started dating almost a year ago, short enough that it still felt new but also long enough that he felt comfortable. He didn't feel the need to hide his thoughts or feelings from you and you understood when he had his bad days. You were so patient, so caring. You were everything he wanted and nothing he deserved.

You didn't start spending the night until you hit the six-month mark. It worried him the first night because even sex didn’t disrupt his routine, and he didn’t want that to bother you. Just like you supported him in everything else, you were more than happy to support his evening habits. You even took a page from his book and started cutting out your screen time early so it wouldn’t disturb him. You were thoughtful like that, and he considered himself a lucky guy to have someone like you.

Especially when it came to his nightmares.

You were gentle and calm whenever he woke up from a nightmare, never trying to wake him abruptly and risk causing further distress. Respecting boundaries was something you both cultivated, so you never forced or pushed him to talk about his experiences or what he dreamed about. When he did, you listened without judgement and didn't dismiss his concerns or fears. No matter what, you were quick to offer comfort and help him get back to sleep or stay awake with him.

For all his crimes, he somehow ended up with a wonderful and understanding partner.

“Night,” he whispered into the darkness, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep, your breathing steady. Closing his eyes, he slid his hand under his pillow and instinctively closed his hand around the small knife handle. His eyes opened immediately, his next breath caught in his throat. Why did he have his knife there?

Sleeping with a knife had been a coping mechanism and he typically did so on missions, but he tried to let it go at home once you started sleeping over. Tightening his grip, he remembered he had it there the night before because you had to sleep at your apartment. He swore he moved it to the nightstand before you came over. Did he… Shit, did he mean to do that and forget about it?

As much as his memory improved, he still had moments of forgetfulness. A likely permanent side effect thanks to the years of torture. It was one of the reasons why he liked having a routine. It helped him cope as well as improved his memory thanks to the repeated steps. Making lists helped, too.

���I’m safe. She’s safe,” he whispered.

The debate of having weapons in the bedroom was a tough choice since it was meant to be a safe space. He wanted to have weapons nearby for protection, but also wanted them far away in case something triggered him. He convinced himself that one knife was okay. One knife wouldn't hurt him.

But after his last nightmare, he didn’t think it was a good idea to have a knife under the pillow.

It had been a rough night, one of the roughest he could recall in ages. Surrounded by his demons and sins, he felt utterly alone. It was better that way. No one else should ever hear the agony or see the twisted horrors in his head. It was for an audience of one. But, still, he fought. He tried.

And his hand moved.

Bucky had been on autopilot, wanting desperately to fully wake himself up. His body tried to protect him while his mind continued to cling to his neverending nightmare. He just needed to open his eyes and be free for one more day.

He had sat up with a gasp, this haze in his mind finally lifting. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I go by Bucky,” he panted to remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming. “I was born on March 17th, 1917. I’m in my bed, and I’m holding a knife.”

He had been holding a knife.

And he sliced through the sheet where you would’ve been laying.

He barely made it to the toilet before he wretched. He had nightmares of you being tortured, your screams driving him to the brink of insanity when he wanted so desperately to save you. There were nightmares, too, where outside forces made him inflict pain on you. He swore he’d never harm you. If you had been asleep beside him… It made him sick all over again.

Which was why he tried not to sleep with a knife in bed anymore.

Carefully slipping his hand out from under the pillow, he kept an ear out for you. He didn’t want to risk waking or jolting you. He just had to put the knife away so he could cuddle with you and get some much needed rest.

But some higher being or life itself enjoyed messing with Bucky Barnes.

You rolled from your back to your side the second his hand moved through the air. He was fast, should’ve been faster, but it didn’t stop the blade from slicing your skin before he could pull his hand back. He knew the second you woke up, a startled and pained cry escaping. No… no.

He dropped the knife on the nightstand with a shaky hand and turned on the light. The first thing he saw was your face scrunched in pain as you sat up in bed and examined your arm. The crimson drew his attention next because he knew your body better than he knew his own and there shouldn't be a cut there… or blood. There shouldn't be pain etched on your beautiful face.

For a split second, Bucky thought he was having a nightmare. He wanted it to be a nightmare, didn't want it to be real, but the cry he heard wasn't in his head. It wasn't a dream.

It was a living nightmare.

“What did I do?” His voice shook. Tears stung his eyes.

God, what did he do?

Your lips moved, but he felt like he was hearing the words underwater. “Bucky? Did you have a nightmare? Are you okay?”

You were asking if he was okay?

“Oh, my God.” he whispered in horror, his eyes wide. “I…” He cut you. He hurt you. Something he vowed to never do. “I’m sorry. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tried to assure him, clutching your arm closer like you were trying not to get blood on the sheets. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not okay!” he said, trying not to raise his voice. Frightening you was the last thing he wanted to do. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry,” he said, carefully rounding the bed and making sure he kept himself in your line of sight. “I-I didn't mean to. I was trying to move it to the nightstand. I thought I put it back.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you assured him, showing him the small wound. “But I need your help.”

He tried not to panic, but his heart wouldn't stop racing and his next breath felt ragged. “I…”

How could you possibly want his help? He was no longer the Winter Soldier, yet he was still a weapon who destroyed everything he touched. He fooled himself into believing that you were the exception, but look what he did? Your beautiful skin might have a scar now because of him, a constant reminder that he brought nothing but pain and destruction.

“Bucky, please,” you whispered, slowly lifting your hand. You let it hover near his cheek, silently asking for permission, the way you always did after he had a bad dream. He allowed himself to lean in, selfishly accepting it and taking from you the way he always took from you. “Help me.”

He dared to look in your eyes with the hope of centering himself and prayed he wouldn't see fear or disgust. There was none, only trust and love when you looked back at him. It was enough to push the panic away. He could be upset later. Right now he had to take care of you and fix his mistake.

“Okay,” he breathed.

He took your arm with infinite tenderness to examine it and blinked away the mist in his eyes. The cut, thankfully, didn’t look jagged or deep. It was a clean cut. In fact, it looked superficial compared to the damage it could've done. It still had to hurt since a sharp blade sliced your skin and there was still blood.

A wounded sound left Bucky’s lips when his gaze flickered up and he spotted a tear slide down your cheek. As if he had any right to make a sound like that when he caused you pain. The angel that you were, you offered him a soft smile. Any other night your voice and smile would’ve soothed him, but he didn't deserve that tonight. He didn't deserve comfort. He was unworthy of it, unworthy of any of your kindness or care.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he said, his voice rough. He wasn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly experienced enough of his own cuts and stitched up enough wounds to know. “Can I carry you to the bathroom?”

Logically, he knew you were capable of walking there on your own, but he wanted to hold you. Make himself useful. You must've sensed it since you nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

Picking you up in his arms, he felt numb as he carried you. Why couldn’t he have accidentally cut himself instead? He experienced plenty of wounds, and had plenty of scars. What was one more?

He took a second to breathe in your scent before he set you on the edge of the tub, worried he might not smell it again if you decided to leave for the rest of the night. “I need to apply pressure to it,” he said, saying the steps out loud for both of you as he washed his hands and grabbed the first aid kit. “Once the bleeding stops, I can clean it.”

You nodded, keeping your arm elevated. “Okay,” you said, your gaze going to his shaking hands. “Deep breath, Bucky.”

Breathing in slowly and releasing it, he willed himself to stop shaking. He didn’t realize the metal arm could shake, but it made sense since it was an extension of himself. Avoiding your gaze as he pressed the gauze to your wound, his teeth snapped together when he heard the wince you tried not to let out. As if he didn’t hate himself enough for the damage he’d done, you were trying to be brave and strong for him.

Once the bleeding stopped, he turned the water on. The sight of the red on the gauze made his stomach turn since it was your blood. “Soap and water next.”

You offered him a small smile again while he cleaned it, but he couldn’t smile back. “The cut doesn't look bad at all. Barely a scratch,” you mused once he finished and grabbed the tweezers. “What are those for?”

“It was a small blade,” he said, swallowing hard. “I know it isn’t a deep cut, but I’m just making sure there isn’t anything in it. We don’t want it to get infected.” Both of you kept the bedroom clean and he also took great care of his knives, but that didn’t mean dust or something else didn’t seep its way in.

You nodded again, letting him do what he needed to before he applied petroleum jelly. “That helps with the healing, right?”

His heart turned over. You were keeping him talking and not allowing his mind to slip into a dark place. “That’s right. I know you’re not a big fan of the word ‘moist’, but, well, keeping it moist helps,” he said, putting the bandage on. You wrinkled your nose, something he usually found adorable. Seeing you do it now, he wanted to cry. “I think that should do it. Do you… need anything for the pain?”

“You did a great job,” you smiled gently, which only made his heart ache more. “I don't need anything, but thank you for asking.”

“You sure you aren't being stubborn?” he tried to tease.

Cuts and bruises, he could handle those. Things like aspirin didn't do anything for him anyway thanks to the serum. What about you? What if your arm ached?

You laughed a little. “If I do need something, you'll be the first to know.”

You looked past your arm into the tub. He looked, too, watching the last trace of blood go down the drain. Or maybe he imagined it. The last time he came back from a bad mission, you helped him wash his hair and wipe away the remaining blood and dirt. You made him feel clean again as every speck disappeared. And what had he given you in return?

What good was he?

“Are you okay?” he barely whispered. God, he wanted you to be okay.

“I am,” you answered without hesitation, turning his face toward you. “Seriously, Bucky. It’s just a scratch, and it was an accident.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” he said, pulling away from your touch. He feared he’d taint you if you kept touching him. “And you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

You inhaled so sharply he thought you’d choke on your breath. “I don’t put up with you. I love you.”

How could your love break his heart?

Emotions whirled inside him as he sank to the cold floor. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared off with vacant eyes. Faces of the people he harmed and killed over the years passed in his mind. Blaming him. Telling him he didn't deserve you.

He didn't, did he?

He didn’t see you move to the floor beside him, but he felt your presence. It was his job to comfort you, make you feel better. Instead he began to shut down. He didn’t want to. Why was he allowing himself to go under?

“Bucky?” you asked after a few minutes passed.

His good and his bad days, you always stayed beside him. But you had to be afraid of him now, right? He wouldn’t blame you if you were. He also wouldn’t blame you if you never trusted him again.

“One of the happiest days of my life was when you and I started dating. Luck was finally on my side,” he said, remembering the smile on your face when he asked you to go out with him. He was on cloud nine when you said yes. “And then you eventually started sleeping over and I thought my luck was continuing to turn around.” He laughed a watery laugh. “I was going to ask you to move in with me soon.”

You placed your hand over his, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting him to know that you were listening and taking in every word.

“But I lied to you. I said I’d never hurt you and I did,” he said, biting his lip to the point where he almost drew blood. “You were the one person I was supposed to protect and take care of and…” He whimpered, doing his damnedest not to sob. “I can’t even protect you from myself.”

He couldn't even blame a nightmare for what he did because it was all him.

“You do protect and take care of me. You do it every single day,” you said. If he could see himself through your eyes, he’d believe it. “You're my hero.”

He finally looked at you and he didn't stop you from holding his face in your hands. How could he be your hero when felt like a villain? “Take care of you? Look what I did to your arm.” Tonight was a small cut and an accident, truly, but would if one day he did something worse? He still feared the day something triggered him and he went after the ones he loved the most.

You barely gave your arm a glance, like it didn't bother you at all. “That wasn't done on purpose. I would never hold something like that over your head and you wouldn't do it to me if the roles were reversed.”

The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. “But I’m supposed to be faster.”

Bucky faced his share of punishments when he wasn't the perfect machine. He wasn't supposed to feel. Only follow orders. It was hard to accept some days that he was truly free, that he was allowed to make mistakes. Being with you reminded him that he wasn't a machine, but that he was a human being.

And human beings weren't perfect no matter how hard they tried to be.

“You’re still fast. Still strong,” you said, your voice steady and firm, urging him to believe you. “But, Bucky, at the end of the day, accidents happen and we can't always protect each other from pain. That’s just not possible.”

He wanted to argue that he should keep you safe from pain, but he knew in his heart that you were right. “So we help and comfort each other?” he asked.

“Exactly. And I promise you I’m okay.”

“You’re really okay?” he whispered.

“I’m really okay,” you whispered back.

His shoulders dropped and tears spilled over before he could stop them. You weren't going to let him shoulder the blame no matter how hard he tried. “If you want to leave…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, but he’d get it if you wanted to go back to your place instead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, giving him renewed strength and relief. “Especially since you were going to ask me to move in. What kind of partner would I be if I just left?”

“You’re the best,” he swore. The best person, partner, everything. “And I’m sorry.”

He had to say it once more and he wasn't sure how he’d make it up to you, but he’d find a way.

“There's nothing to be sorry for,” you whispered, brushing the softest of kisses against his lips as you wiped his tears away. “But if you really feel like you have to say it, then I forgive you.”

He couldn't believe some days how forgiving you were, how deep your love for him ran. “You still love me? Because I love you so much.”

“Always,” you promised.

Your answer allowed him to cry harder. In the safe space of his home with the woman he loved holding him and not running away, he didn't have to suppress his emotions. He could embrace it, the bad and the good, the ugly and the beautiful.

“Thank you,” he whispered once his crying slowed. Tears fell from your eyes, too. He tasted them when he kissed your cheeks. “It really was an accident.”

“I know,” you softly smiled. “How about we add checking the bed for knives and anything else to your bedtime routine?”

“That’s a good idea,” he said. It would be easy to add that to his nightly list. “I don’t…”

He looked toward the door, not wanting to say he couldn’t sleep in the bed tonight. At least not until he changed the sheets, even if there wasn’t a drop of blood on them. Even then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all.

“Maybe we can curl up on the floor together with some blankets and pillows?” you offered, letting him make the choice.

There you went again being the understanding and patient partner, willing to curl up on an uncomfortable floor to make him feel better. “I’d like that.”

“Are you going to be okay?” you asked before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

It was a question you asked after every nightmare, every bad day.

He considered his answer before he uttered, “I will be.”

The truth was, he believed he had wounds that would never fully heal no matter how hard he tried. Something would come along out of nowhere and tear them open. If he were a better man, he’d let you go so you could find someone not so damaged. Instead he chained you to his side and dragged you down with him. But he remembered something you once said to him.

“We can learn to forgive and be forgiven by learning to heal with our hearts wide open.”

He opened his heart to you, and you accepted his love and gave it back tenfold. You took as much of his pain away as you could and made his days brighter. He was still learning how to be forgiven, but you helped him get better every day.

And both of you were going to be okay.

Oh, he deserves a hug and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bunnyreaper]

simon is your most precious bear, but he won't settle for just that.

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, mild moment of dubcon?)

you'd found him in a charity shop one day and couldn't walk away without him in your arms--the most darling little bear you've ever seen. 

the stitching on his button eyes was barely present, the threads on his body were also loose, and his fur was a little more than worse for wear. usually a sign of a bear well-loved, but you got the feeling looking at him and his missing smile that his state wasn't from something entirely different. 

you'd taken him home and treasured him ever since. restitched his eyes and his precariously hanging limbs, polished his little plastic nose and tied a ribbon around his neck.

you'd tried sewing in a smile underneath his cute little nose, but found the expression didn't quite suit him. when you tried again, arching the stiches downward, you found you much preferred him as your grumpy bear anyway.

once he was pampered and restored, you sat him pride of place on your pillow, having him guard you and keep watch over your bed whenever you weren't in it. at night you held him close, squeezed him tight until you drifted off to sleep--dreams that are always so sweet and peaceful, and you swear it's because he keeps the nightmares at bay. 

little did you know of the soul trapped inside--simon.

he'd fallen in love just as you had, obsessed with the way you'd looked at him and never stopped looking--obsessed with the way you cared for him and held him. he'd never liked being trapped as a bear until you took him home, where he belonged. 

now he took his role as your stuffie very seriously. and clearly, it paid off, as he quickly became the favourite of all your plushies--the one you treasured above all others.

fair to say simon had captured your heart, and in turn, he was always doted on and adored by you. never was he allowed to slide off the bed to be forgotten, never was there a day that went by where he wasn't kissed or cuddled by you.

but sometimes he had to be moved from his place, his spot. when you had visitors over, he'd be replaced in the bed by strange figures, stuck on the nightstand as a spectator to it all.

the comforts they provided were different, bringing bitten lower lips and breathy moans rather than sweet smiles and gentle whispers. and all the while simon was trapped, doomed to watch other men in the bed the two of you shared--knowing deep down in his stuffing that if he were just human again, he could do a much better job. 

late one night, after another visitor, you return to the comfort of your bed with simon clutched between your arms. you squeeze him as tight as you can--a sweet, satisfied smile leaving you as you hold him close and embrace the comfort and safety he provides.

"one of these days, they won't be disappointing." you sigh, releasing your disappointment and unknowingly unleashing wishful magic

it's then simon feels it, something inside him he hasn't felt in so long, as his body shifts from bear to man. 

he should do something about the way you scream, soothe you as he usually does, but right now, there is nothing calming or comforting in the way he feels right now--just pure posessive lust. codependant, ugly love. 

simon takes advantage of his newfound form, using muscular arms to crush you into the bed, determined to make up for lost time no matter what it takes. his dick hardens instantly, so used to the feel of your body against him and yet intoxicated by all the new sensations.

he expects you to keep struggling, to fight back in disbelief, but when the shock wears off he delights in the way you look at him--just as enamoured as you had the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1974 - ...but it was never meant to be

chapter summary: You and Logan have been living in the Canadian Rockies for almost 6 months, enjoying the peace and solitude that comes with it.

word count: 8.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is just fluff, at least until the end... but we're finally hitting the movies! and sorry for it being a bit shorter than the others, there are some ideas i'm saving for a future chapter :))

(p.s. the first sentence about the hotel in nyc is going to be very important to remember for a future chapter...)

warnings/tags: fluff, origins!logan, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, (beginning of) x-men origins, character death

series masterlist - chapter 5 → chapter 7

Leaving was easy once you got past the one incident. You and Logan had stopped that day at a hotel a bit out of New York City only to be found by your father’s men.

But what happened was almost like magic. Logan, your Logan, took them all out with claws. At first you were bewildered, shocked at what you just saw. But now, after 6 months of living in the Canadian Rockies, it was normal.

Normal.

Mornings would start with the soft light streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over your shared space as Logan brewed coffee and you stretched, enjoying the easy comfort of it all.

Logan had found work quickly enough as a lumberjack, something that kept him outside and busy, and it suited him. Meanwhile, you’d stumbled upon a small animal shelter in the nearby town. You’d started going once or twice a week, helping out with the dogs and occasionally picking up shifts to keep yourself busy and connected to some semblance of normal life.

The routines you fell into together were quiet, steady, and for the first time in a long while, you felt grounded. Though you missed New York sometimes, especially the volunteer work at the retirement home, the silence of the woods and the small town was a peaceful change.

Not only were things peaceful, but Logan had started opening up to you in the quiet of your cabin, usually in the early morning or after one of his nightmares. It started with little things—details about his mutation, his healing ability. Then, as the days blurred into weeks, he told you about his age and the wars he’d fought in, his voice quiet, words weighed down with old memories.

One chilly morning, you found him staring out the window, his gaze distant as he sipped his coffee. You moved up beside him, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Hey, you alright?”

He looked down at you, a flicker of a smile breaking through the shadows. “Yeah. Just… thinkin’,” he murmured, his voice rough but calm.

��Anything you want to talk about?” you offered, watching his face closely.

Logan considered this for a moment, then took a long breath. “I think… just realizin’ how long it’s been since I had somethin’ like this,” he finally admitted, a glint of honesty in his eyes. “It’s been a hell of a road, darlin’.”

You reached out, resting your hand on his forearm. “I don’t need to know everything, Logan. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

He gave a short nod, letting his hand rest over yours, a simple gesture that spoke volumes. He didn’t say anything, but his fingers wrapped around yours, holding them a moment longer than necessary.

---

Life in the cabin wasn’t extravagant, but there was a certain charm in the simplicity. Nights spent by the fire, mornings with the scent of pine and fresh coffee, and the comforting weight of Logan’s arm draped over you as you both drifted into sleep. But there were also the little bumps—like the time you tried making him dinner.

It had been a stew recipe, something you thought would be foolproof. You’d stirred, added spices, tasted… but when you served it, the look on Logan’s face was priceless.

He took a spoonful, eyebrows lifting as he held back a chuckle. “This a new recipe?”

“Okay, I get it—it’s not great,” you sighed, laughing a little as you took a bite yourself. “Alright, yeah, maybe it’s terrible.”

Logan chuckled, setting his spoon down. “It’s not so bad. I mean… it’s got heart.”

You nudged him, rolling your eyes. “Heart doesn’t mean it’s edible, Logan.”

“Maybe not,” he smirked, “but I’ll still eat it.” He winked, lifting another spoonful as he pretended to struggle through the bowl, making you burst into laughter.

---

Late one night, Logan awoke from one of his nightmares. You knew, even before he’d fully come to, just by the way he stiffened beside you. He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, and you reached out, fingers brushing his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whispered.

He looked down at you, the muscles in his jaw tight. But after a moment, he nodded. “It was a long time ago. Just old ghosts.” He paused, exhaling heavily. “There’s been a lot of violence. Stuff… I don’t ever want you to have to see.”

“I know you’ve seen a lot,” you murmured, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “But you don’t have to go through it alone, Logan. Not anymore.”

Logan’s hand covered yours, and he turned his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes soft but searching. “You’ve been more than I deserve, Y/N,” he said quietly.

Your heart twisted, and you reached up to cup his face. “Logan, I don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been. All that matters is who you are now.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. “Then I’m one lucky man,” he whispered, his voice low.

He held you close that night, your presence calming the echoes of a past that seemed finally willing to rest, if only for a while.

---

One day you were trying to make something simple, roast chicken and potatoes before Logan got back from work. You diligently checked the oven, making sure that nothing was burning, until Logan came home, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood up from the oven.

Logan’s hands settled warmly around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he looked over at the oven. The familiar, steady weight of him grounded you, even as you felt your heart give a quick little skip at the simple, domestic gesture.

“Smells good in here,” he murmured, his breath brushing your ear as he took in the scent of roasting chicken and herbs. “Didn’t know you were this fancy in the kitchen.”

You let out a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Fancy might be a stretch. I’m just hoping it doesn’t come out dry.”

His arms tightened just a bit, pulling you closer. “Even if it did, I’d still eat it,” he said, a hint of that playful glint in his voice. “Means a lot, havin’ you here. Feels like… home.”

A warmth rose in your chest, one that went beyond the physical, and you leaned back into him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You know, I could get used to this too.” You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “Long days, quiet dinners, just us.”

“Us,” he echoed, his voice softer, thoughtful. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something unspoken yet weighty. His thumb brushed small, slow circles along your hip, as if anchoring himself in the moment, and he gave you a slight smile that didn’t quite mask the intensity behind it.

Logan was quiet for a moment, and you felt a shift in his posture, almost like he wanted to say something but was holding back. He looked at you in that way he sometimes did—like he was seeing more than just you standing there in your small, cozy kitchen. Maybe he was seeing all the days stretching ahead, those simple moments you’d have together, and the weight of that left him speechless.

“Logan?” you asked, brushing a hand along his arm.

He blinked, then smiled, the intensity in his gaze easing back into something gentler. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ how lucky I am.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Guess that makes two of us.”

The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence, with just the faint hum of the oven and the quiet, steady beat of Logan’s heart against your back. In the quiet of your little life together, things felt simple, natural. Here, there were no expectations, no obligations—just the two of you, building something real out of those little, ordinary moments.

But later that night, as you drifted off beside him, Logan stayed awake, lost in thought. His hand brushed over the small velvet box in his drawer, the ring that had waited all this time, the one that had been meant for you once before. He ran his thumb along the edge, thinking about when the right time might be—or if he’d even have the chance. For now, though, he’d savor each day, each quiet moment, holding on as tightly as he could.

---

You lay nestled between Logan’s legs on the couch, your head resting comfortably on his chest as you read, while he watched TV, idly sipping his beer. His free hand drifted up and down your arm absentmindedly, and you could feel the faint rumble of his quiet breaths beneath you. There was a calm in the cabin tonight—a peace you’d found only since being with him.

“What’s got you so hooked?” he asked, glancing down at your book with a smirk. “Looks like you’re deep in it.”

You tilted the book so he could see the cover, Jaws. “It’s a book about a shark.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “a shark, huh?”

You turned back to the book, keeping a small smile hidden. “Kind of. It’s a little deeper than just a shark, though.”

“Deeper than a shark, huh?” Logan smirked, shifting slightly to glance down at you, looking mildly amused. “Didn’t think a fish story could be that interesting.”

“It’s not just any fish, Logan,” you said, letting your hand rest on his as you settled back into his warmth. “This shark’s on a whole other level—a menace, basically unstoppable. And there’s all this tension between the people in the town, like who’s responsible, what to do, whether they even believe it’s happening.”

He gave a soft grunt of understanding, taking a sip of his beer. “Guess I can see why you’re hooked. Townsfolk fighting over a monster they can’t get rid of… kinda familiar.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, a glint of curiosity in your eyes. “You got experience with monsters, Logan?”

“More than you’d believe, darlin’,” he murmured, his eyes holding that far-off look he sometimes got when his mind slipped somewhere else, somewhere harder. But his grip on you stayed gentle, grounding him here.

There was a moment’s quiet, then he smirked, leaning down closer. “But I could take out your shark, no question.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, closing the book and giving him a look of mock skepticism. “A great white shark, Logan. One that can bite clean through a boat. I think even you’d have some trouble with that one.”

He snorted, giving you an exaggerated look of disbelief. “I’m tellin’ ya, I’d have it done in five minutes.”

You laughed, poking his chest. “I’d like to see that. You, in the water, with a shark. You’d probably scare it off.”

“Probably,” he chuckled, his tone playful but carrying a hint of something genuine. “But I’d do it for you.”

His words caught you off guard, softening the teasing banter into something warmer, something real. You looked up at him, and the light in his eyes held a familiar steadiness, a promise you hadn’t expected. You felt a smile creeping up, one that made your heart beat a little faster.

“That’s sweet of you, Logan. But don’t go risking your life over a shark.”

He shrugged, giving a small grin. “Risking my life’s kinda my thing.”

With a smirk, you shifted to put your arms around his neck. “I don’t need you to fight any sharks. I just need you here, safe, preferably not trying to tackle any more sea monsters.”

Logan’s hands came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Don’t worry, darlin’. For you, I’d stay outta trouble… or at least, try.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly. You melted into him, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath you, the steady beat of his heart, a promise in every kiss, every touch.

When you pulled back, he let out a small sigh, looking at you with a softness that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

“Now,” you murmured, your voice quiet as you tried to keep the mood light, “how about you let me finish reading this book before you start making any plans to fight sharks?”

“Fine,” he chuckled, leaning back into the couch, his arms still loosely around you. “But I’m just sayin’, the offer stands.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting back to lean against his chest, your book in hand. But even as you returned to the words on the page, the comfortable silence between you filled every corner of the cabin, your heart warmed by the man beside you.

---

When Logan came home and removed his jacket, the sound of music drifted to his ears, mingling with the low hum of a vacuum. The cabin was warm, a sharp contrast to the biting chill outside, the smell of pine and faint wood smoke greeting him like an old friend. The soft glow of late afternoon sun streaked through the windows, and as he stepped further in, he caught sight of you.

You were standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, wearing one of his old flannels that hung loose on your frame, the hem brushing just below the tops of your thighs. The vacuum roared in your hand as you cleaned, entirely oblivious to his arrival.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you. Something about this—a simple domestic scene—made his chest tighten, a warmth blooming there that he couldn’t quite name.

“Y’know, you’re not supposed to wear clothes that fit me better than they fit you,” he drawled, his voice cutting through the vacuum’s roar.

Startled, you turned it off with a quick flick of the switch and looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face. “Logan! You scared me,” you said.

“Didn’t mean to,” he replied, his tone warm as he pushed off the frame and walked toward you. His boots thudded softly against the wooden floor, and as he got closer, his eyes drank you in, lingering on the way the flannel gaped slightly at the neck, exposing the soft line of your collarbone. “Got a habit of sneakin’ up, I guess.”

You laughed softly, setting the vacuum aside. “If you were a little less loud, I’d think you were some kind of predator.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he said, his grin spreading as he reached for you, hands settling at your waist and pulling you close, “if I wanted to catch you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled between you, his voice a low rumble that always managed to make your knees feel just a little weaker. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the solidness of him beneath your palms. “Good thing I’m not running then,” you murmured, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

He leaned down, his nose brushing yours. “Good thing,” he echoed, before his lips claimed yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands slid lower, fingers splaying over the curve of your hips, pulling you tighter against him. The flannel you wore rose slightly under his touch, and you gasped softly into his mouth as his fingers found bare skin.

“Logan,” you breathed against his lips, your voice a soft plea.

“Yeah?” he rasped, his mouth trailing down your jawline, his scruff brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“Think you should let me finish cleaning,” you teased, though your hands had already slid up to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the dark strands at the base of his skull.

He huffed a laugh, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your throat. “Nah, think I got a better idea.”

With a swift move, he bent and swept you off your feet, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. You let out a startled laugh, clinging to him as he carried you toward the couch. “Logan, the vacuum—”

“Vacuum’ll be there later,” he cut in, his voice gruff but tinged with amusement. “Right now, you’re the only thing I’m worried about.”

He set you down gently on the cushions, his large frame hovering over you as he knelt on the floor, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the flannel higher. The intensity in his gaze sent a flush rising to your cheeks, your heart pounding in anticipation.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he admitted, his voice thick, raw. His hands paused, fingers curling just under the hem of the shirt. “Mind if I show you how much?”

You nodded, breathless, and he smiled—a rare, almost boyish expression that quickly dissolved into something darker, hungrier. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt about where his mind was. His hands roamed freely now, skimming along the curve of your thighs, pushing the flannel higher and higher, exposing bare skin to the cool air of the room.

“Goddamn,” Logan muttered against your lips, his voice thick, raw. His hands splayed across your thighs, gripping them as though grounding himself, his thumbs brushing along the tender skin there. “You’re a fuckin’ dream, darlin’.”

A shiver ran through you, anticipation building as his kisses trailed lower, down your jaw, your neck, leaving a path of warm, open-mouthed caresses. You gasped softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved further down, sinking to his knees before you, his broad shoulders nudging your legs apart.

"Logan..." Your voice was barely more than a whisper, already trembling.

“Shh,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed a kiss just above your knee, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The intensity there made your breath hitch. “Let me take care of you.”

He kissed his way up your inner thigh, taking his time, each press of his lips deliberate, teasing. Your heart pounded as you felt his warm breath against your skin, so close to where you wanted him, needed him.

When his lips finally brushed against you, his tongue darting out to taste, you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that spilled from your lips. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer as he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue working you with an expertise that made your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hands clutching his hair, your hips arching into him. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue delving deep before retreating to flick against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you trembling, your thighs pressing around his head.

Logan growled against you, the vibrations shooting straight through your core, and the sound of it—rough, primal—only spurred you on. He was relentless, his lips and tongue working you with a fervor that left no doubt about how much he enjoyed this, enjoyed you.

“Logan, I—” Your words dissolved into a whimper, your body tensing as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His name was a mantra on your lips, each syllable punctuated by gasps and moans as he pulled you apart and put you back together with every stroke of his tongue.

When you finally shattered, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave, he didn’t stop. He worked you through it, his hands holding you steady as you trembled, as your body arched and writhed against him. Only when you were completely spent, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you with a wicked grin.

“You taste like heaven,” he said, his voice rough, gravelly, as he rose to his feet, his hands still resting on your thighs. “I could do that all night.”

You laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the couch, your body still tingling, your cheeks flushed. “You’re insatiable.”

“Says the woman who was just beggin’ me for more,” Logan teased, his voice a low rumble as his lips brushed against yours. His kiss was slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own release sent a thrill racing through you, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, keeping him close.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You sure you’re not tryin’ to kill me, darlin’? Feels like every time I get my hands on you, I lose a few more pieces of myself.”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, your fingers idly playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.”

Logan huffed a laugh, the sound deep and almost self-deprecating. His thumb traced lazy circles on your thigh, his gaze locked on yours. “For you, maybe not. For me? I’m startin’ to think I wouldn’t mind it.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, a quiet confession that made your chest tighten. You reached up, brushing your thumb along the rough edge of his jaw. “I wouldn’t let that happen,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “You’re too important, Logan. To me.”

His expression softened, the hard edges of his usual demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, Y/N.”

“Maybe you should show me,” you said, your voice carrying a teasing lilt, though the heat in your eyes betrayed how serious you were.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, almost mischievous grin. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe. But you don’t seem to mind.”

He let out a low growl, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips. “You’re damn right I don’t.”

In one fluid motion, Logan had you lifted, his hands firm as he repositioned you to straddle his lap. You let out a surprised laugh, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself as you settled against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, the solidness of him grounding you in a way that felt almost necessary.

“See? Told ya I had better plans than cleanin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke.

You tilted your head, giving him more access, a soft hum escaping your lips. “I think I’m starting to agree.”

Logan’s hands roamed over you, calloused fingers exploring the soft curves of your body with reverence. There was no rush, no urgency in his movements. It was deliberate, almost tender, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

His lips trailed a path along your neck, his scruff scraping against your skin in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he admitted, his voice low, almost like a growl.

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his shirt.

Logan’s hands gripped the hem of the flannel you wore, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he slowly lifted it. He paused, his gaze flicking up to meet yours, seeking permission.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, taking in the sight of your bare skin bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice thick with something between awe and hunger.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but the look in his eyes kept any hint of self-consciousness at bay. “You’re staring,” you teased, though your voice wavered slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“Can’t help it,” he said simply, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath your ribs. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, Y/N. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of lookin’ at you.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was slow and deep, your hands threading through his hair as you pressed yourself against him.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he shifted beneath you, the hard press of him against your core drawing a soft gasp from your lips. He swallowed the sound with a groan, his grip tightening as he began to rock you against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure racing through you.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Just let me take care of you, darlin’.”

His hands moved to your waist, guiding your movements as he kissed you again, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate slowness that left you breathless. Each roll of your hips against him was maddeningly slow, the steady build of tension making you ache for more.

“Logan, please,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you tried to quicken the pace.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. “Patience, Y/N. I’m not in a rush.”

You huffed in frustration, though the warmth in his gaze softened the sharp edges of your need. “You’re cruel,” you muttered, though the slight smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“Cruel, huh?” he echoed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hands slid down to cup your ass, squeezing gently as he shifted beneath you. “Pretty sure you’ll be thankin’ me when I’m done with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound dissolving into a soft moan as he bucked his hips against you, the friction sending another wave of heat coursing through you.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice a mix of exasperation and longing.

He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Yeah, darlin’? What do you need?”

“You,” you said simply, the single word carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air between you.

Logan’s expression softened, his teasing demeanor shifting as something deeper flickered in his gaze. “You’ve got me,” he said, his voice steady, his hands firm on your hips as though anchoring you to him.

Your heart stuttered at his words, the raw sincerity of them making your chest feel impossibly tight. You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his as your fingers slid down his chest, the fabric of his shirt rough under your touch. “I’m glad,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss unhurried and deliberate, his hands roaming up and down your thighs. The heat of him seeped into your skin, grounding you as you moved against him. The friction was maddening, a slow burn that made you ache for more.

“Darlin’,” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick and strained, “you’re makin’ it real hard to take this slow.”

“Maybe I don’t want slow,” you countered, your tone teasing, though the way your breath hitched betrayed your own urgency.

Logan chuckled low, the sound vibrating through you as his lips moved to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin. “Trust me, you do,” he murmured, his teeth grazing your pulse point just enough to make your thighs tighten around him. “I want to feel every second of this.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening in his hair as he took his time exploring every inch of you. Logan’s hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you slightly as he shifted on the couch, settling back further into the cushions.

The new angle pressed you more firmly against him, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallowed with another kiss. “Fuck,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked, his tone softer, though the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

“More than okay,” you replied, your voice trembling as you shifted your hips, testing the pressure between you.

Logan growled low in his throat, his grip on you tightening as his hands slid up your back. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N,” he said, his words heavy with reverence.

You didn’t reply, too caught up in the way he was looking at you, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. “Off,” you said simply, your voice breathless but firm.

He smirked, obliging without hesitation as he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Your eyes raked over him, taking in the broad expanse of his chest, the scars that marred his otherwise flawless skin.

“Like what you see?” he teased, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

“Always,” you replied, your hands trailing over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of old wounds. “You’re beautiful, Logan.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands sliding back to your waist. “Don’t think anyone’s called me that before.”

“Well, they should have,” you said, leaning in to press a kiss to his collarbone.

Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, guiding you as you moved against him, the steady grind of your bodies making your head spin. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, though the words were laced with affection.

“Not likely,” you quipped, a soft laugh escaping you.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shifted again, one hand moving to undo the button of his jeans. Your breath hitched as you realized what was coming next, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze searching yours.

“Logan,” you said, your tone steady despite the way your heart was racing. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

He nodded once, his hands steady as he slid his jeans down just enough, freeing himself. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped you as you took him in, your cheeks flushing at the sight.

“Come here,” he said, his voice rough as he guided you closer, his hands firm on your hips.

You moved slowly, adjusting yourself over him, the heat of him against you making you tremble. Logan’s hands were steady, his thumbs brushing soothing circles on your skin as he guided you.

When you finally sank down onto him, the feeling was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that made you moan softly. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice raw. “You feel... Jesus, darlin’, you’re perfect.”

You didn’t reply, too caught up in the way he felt, the way he filled you completely. You braced your hands on his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as you began to move.

Logan’s hands guided your movements, his grip firm but not controlling as he let you set the pace. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming as you rocked against him, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

The steady rhythm built slowly, the intensity growing with each roll of your hips. Logan’s hands roamed over you, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, grounding you in the moment.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You met his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at you. It wasn’t just lust—it was something deeper, something that made your chest ache in the best way.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrust upward, matching your movements.

The new angle sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, a soft cry escaping your lips as you clung to him. “Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Right here, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the strain in it.

The intensity between you grew, the slow, deliberate pace giving way to something more urgent as your bodies moved together. Each thrust, each kiss, each touch pushed you closer to the edge, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak.

When you finally shattered, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Logan held you through it, his hands steady on your hips as your body trembled, his name falling from your lips in a breathless mantra.

He followed moments later, a low, guttural groan escaping him as he buried his face in your neck, his grip on you tightening as he found his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths mingling as you clung to each other, the world outside forgotten.

“You okay?” Logan asked finally, his voice soft, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“More than okay,” you replied, your voice muffled against his neck.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”

“Didn’t plan on going anywhere,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned back to look at him.

Logan’s expression softened, his hands moving to cup your face. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your tone steady despite the warmth spreading through your chest.

“Damn right I am,” he said, his lips curving into a small, almost boyish grin.

The two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, the rest of the world fading away. For now, there was only this—only him.

---

You turned off the water that was filling the bathtub and dipped your hand in to test the temperature of the water. The water was just right—hot, with steam gently rolling off the surface. You stood, wiping your hands on the towel, just as you heard the front door creak open and close with a soft click. Logan’s footsteps padded quietly through the cabin, but you could still feel that familiar presence, that comforting weight of him even when he wasn’t yet in sight.

You barely had time to turn around before he appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you standing by the tub. “Now this is a surprise,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Thought you’d like a soak after all that work you did today,” you replied, a little smile tugging at your mouth. You stepped aside, gesturing toward the water. “Go on, it’s ready.”

Logan’s gaze softened, though his smirk never quite faded. “So you’re spoilin’ me now, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him. “Can’t have you overdoing it. You might be practically indestructible, but a hot bath never hurt anyone.”

He chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off. “Got a point there,” he admitted, tossing it onto the nearby chair. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help your eyes drifting over the familiar planes of his chest, scars crisscrossing his skin like a map of all the years he’d survived. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t mind—just kept undressing as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Logan stepped into the tub, easing himself down with a contented sigh as he settled into the water. He leaned his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the steam rose around him. For a moment, you simply watched him, a fond smile on your lips.

“Good?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

He cracked one eye open, glancing at you with a lazy grin. “Better than good. You joinin’ me?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “This one’s all yours. I’ll go make us something to drink.”

Before you could turn, Logan reached out, his wet hand catching yours. He looked up at you, his expression softer now. “Stay, darlin’. Least for a bit.”

His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, and you found yourself nodding, unable to refuse him. You sat down beside the tub, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of the water, and he let his hand rest in yours.

Logan kissed the top of your hand, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Sure ya don’t wanna join me? Promise I don’t bite."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say."

He chuckled, his fingers still wrapped gently around yours, as if he was savoring this quiet moment between you. “Could use a little company, that’s all,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving your face.

“This is supposed to be a bath for you.” You replied, your own eyebrow quirked.

“I’d enjoy it more if you were in here with me.”

You raised an eyebrow at Logan, the corner of your mouth quirking into a teasing smile. “Is that right? Well, maybe if you’re lucky.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the side of the tub. “Oh, come on. I’m always lucky when it comes to you.” His voice was a low murmur, pulling you in with that familiar, lazy charm he always seemed to have.

“Uh-huh, says the guy who tried to convince me he could take on a shark,” you shot back, crossing your arms, leaning casually against the wall. “You’re just full of bold ideas, huh?”

He chuckled, giving a shrug. “I stand by that. But I’m talkin’ serious here.” His hand reached out, fingertips grazing your wrist in a way that sent a warmth through you. “No sharks, no messin’ around. Just you, right here.”

The sincerity caught you a little off guard. The tension settled into something deeper as you looked at him, his hand steady on yours, like he was holding onto more than just the moment.

“I guess… I could keep you company,” you said softly, the lightness of your earlier words giving way to something quieter. You slipped out of your shirt, feeling Logan’s gaze follow you, his eyes dark with a warmth that made you feel both nervous and excited.

Sliding into the water, you settled in close to him, leaning back as his arms naturally came around you. The water was hot, relaxing every part of you, but it was Logan’s touch, the gentle press of his fingers tracing over your arm, that made you feel completely at ease.

“See?” he murmured against your hair, his lips grazing the top of your head. “Told ya this was a good idea.”

You hummed, closing your eyes as you leaned into him. “You did. Guess I should listen to you more often.”

Logan’s hand slid along your shoulder, trailing down your arm with a steady, careful touch, like he was trying to memorize every inch. You felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, followed by the soft press of his lips just below your ear. The tension of the day melted away, leaving you relaxed and content in his embrace.

For a few moments, you both just stayed there, the only sounds the quiet rustle of water and the occasional creak of the cabin settling. Logan’s fingers traced small, lazy circles along your arm, his other hand holding you close against him, anchoring you to him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“So,” you murmured, breaking the silence, “this isn’t so bad, right?”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Could get used to it,” he said, his voice rumbling against your back. “Peace and quiet. Just the two of us.” His hand dipped below the water, wrapping around yours.

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Thought you’d be the type to get bored out here, all this peace and quiet.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, though his thumb continued to brush over the back of your hand. “Can handle a bit of quiet if it means you’re here,” he said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him, your faces close. “Guess that makes two of us.” You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, the weight of those unspoken words lingering between you both.

Logan’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his gaze soft and intent. “You gonna kiss me, or do I gotta ask real nice?”

“Always so impatient,” you teased, but you leaned in, closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. His hand moved up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepened the kiss, slow and unhurried, like he was savoring every second. When you finally pulled back, you were both breathing a little heavier, your forehead resting against his.

Logan looked at you, a small, crooked smile on his lips. “See? Worth the wait.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but there was no denying the truth in his words. “You really know how to charm a girl, you know that?”

“Only got one girl I’m tryin’ to charm,” he replied, his voice rough but warm.

Your smile softened as you nestled back against him, letting the silence settle over you both once more. The warmth of the water, the feel of his arms around you—it felt like a small eternity in that moment, like nothing else in the world mattered except this.

---

Trying to turn the conversation away from what Logan told you, about Stryker coming to visit him about a ‘mission’, you started to talk about your day, with Logan’s head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“The stray was matted but Tina started calling him Wolf. Said the dog reminded her of another animal.”

Logan hummed, his eyes still closed, “lemme guess, she showed you a picture of the animal from her book.”

You giggled, “yeah, she did. Gotta admit that dog looked quite similar to the wolverine in her book.” You tilted your head downwards to look at him, “Reminded me of you. Grizzly, sometimes dirty.”

Logan opened one eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah? Grizzly, huh?”

“Maybe a little.” You grinned, your fingers drifting through his hair in slow strokes. “Not just the dirty part, by the way. Wolverines are pretty fierce, don’t let much stand in their way.”

He let out a low chuckle, closing his eye again, seeming to relax further under your touch. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment, comin’ from you.” There was a slight pause, and his voice softened a bit. “Not everyone’s a fan of the grizzly type.”

You scoffed lightly, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. “Well, good thing I am. You know, even wolverines have a soft side somewhere.”

Logan huffed a small laugh. “Yeah? Don’t think I’ve got much of that left, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh, you definitely do.” You brushed a thumb gently along his temple. “Trust me. Like today—taking the time to help out with that old couple’s truck, even after a full day’s work.” You smiled down at him, admiration clear in your gaze. “I see it, Logan, even if you don’t.”

He tilted his head a bit, opening his eyes and looking up at you, his expression unreadable for a second before he sighed, a smirk breaking the moment. “Keep sayin’ things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but he kept his usual, laid-back tone. “Guess I’m lucky you put up with me, huh?”

“You know it.” You winked, letting your fingers trail down to his jawline, and you felt him relax a little more, like he could melt under your touch. “Plus, someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“Not an easy job,” he muttered, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he leaned into your hand, his voice barely above a murmur. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

The two of you fell quiet for a moment, the warmth in his gaze making your heart beat just a little faster, and you couldn’t help but lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. When you pulled back, he just looked at you with that familiar mix of amusement and something else—a depth you didn’t need him to explain.

You shifted slightly, a small smile still on your face. “Now, about that dog—think you could convince Tina to bring him around here?”

Logan’s eyebrows lifted, a smirk tugging at his lips again. “Bringing a stray mutt up here? You sure?”

“Why not? He’d be a good watch dog for you when I’m not around,” you said, with a wink.

He chuckled, a bit softer this time. “Guess I’ll think about it.” Then, his eyes crinkled with that familiar spark of humor. “But only if you promise not to call me Grizzly in front of anyone else.”

You laughed, leaning back against the couch, his head still in your lap. “Deal.”

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke, and you just let yourself soak up the comfortable silence, the simplicity of Logan resting there, perfectly at ease. And as your hand drifted gently through his hair again, you couldn’t help but wonder if this—these quiet moments—might be what you’d both been needing all along.

---

You were driving down a narrow road, the trees thickening as you made your way toward town. The familiar hum of a cassette player filled the car, and you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm. It had been a good week—a small but sweet milestone with Logan, half a year together, and you’d even managed to keep things peaceful in that cabin of his. Tonight was supposed to be simple, a little surprise you’d planned: a tiramisu. Probably the only thing you could bake to perfection.

You rounded a curve, smiling to yourself when—

The sight in the distance made your stomach twist. A figure stood in the middle of the road, dressed in black, unmoving, watching you with an unsettling focus. You slowed the car, blinking to see if you were imagining things. But no—he was still there, large and unflinching in the middle of the narrow path.

As you approached, your heart hammered against your ribs. Something about him was familiar, but not in any way that felt safe or warm.

You pressed on the brake, bringing the car to a cautious stop. The man took a slow, deliberate step forward, his face coming into view under the faint sunlight streaming through the trees. His eyes were cold, almost amused, and his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

It was him—Victor. The man Logan had mentioned a few times, enough to make you know he wasn’t someone you’d ever want to meet, much less find waiting for you like this.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice deep, mocking, and calm in a way that was anything but reassuring.

You tried to keep your face calm, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Just heading into town,” you replied, voice steadier than you felt. “Is there…something you need?”

He tilted his head, like he was sizing you up. “Logan ever mention me?”

A chill crawled up your spine, but you kept your expression guarded. “Maybe once or twice.”

Victor took another step forward, his gaze raking over you with a twisted curiosity, almost like he was toying with the idea of letting you go—but only almost. “See, I’ve been meaning to have a little chat with him,” he drawled, his tone venomous, “and here you are, just making it easy for me.”

You felt a pulse of dread, instinct telling you to turn the car around and get out of there, fast. But you knew better than to provoke him. “Logan’s not here,” you said, hoping that would be enough.

He smirked, that same cold expression never leaving his face. “I’m aware,” he murmured, taking another slow step toward you. “You think he’d leave someone like you on your own if he thought you’d be safe?”

Your heart raced, a knot of fear tightening in your throat. You wanted to say something, anything, to stall him, to get yourself out of this, but nothing came to mind. The realization was dawning, and from the look in Victor’s eyes, he knew it too. There would be no bargaining, no reasoning with him.

"Didn't think Logan would be the type to leave someone behind. Guess I was wrong," he said, sounding amused.

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, refusing to give in to the fear swirling in your chest. "Logan’s not here," you repeated, your voice firm.

"Like I said, I know," Victor replied smoothly, taking another step. His eyes traveled over the car, then over you, a twisted curiosity behind them. "But I figure, maybe you can pass along a little message for me."

Every instinct told you to run, but the car blocked you in, and Victor was only feet away. "What do you want, Victor?"

He grinned, his sharp teeth glinting under the dim light. "Simple. Tell Logan I said 'hi'... if you get the chance."

The dread in your stomach crystallized as he lunged forward. You tried to move, to react, but he was too fast. His hand closed around your throat, lifting you out of the car as though you weighed nothing, and you fought, kicking, clawing, anything you could think of to get free.

"You know," Victor’s voice was disturbingly calm, "he’s been through a lot. But there’s always that soft spot, that weakness he can’t seem to shake."

Desperation flared within you, and you kicked harder, one foot making contact with his chest. It only made him laugh, and he tightened his grip, his face drawing close enough that you could see the cold cruelty in his eyes.

"You’re just like all the others," he murmured, voice almost thoughtful. "Maybe a little more stubborn, but that’s hardly new."

Black spots began to dance at the edges of your vision, your breath coming shorter and shorter. You knew there was no getting out of this—not with him, not with a monster like Victor Creed.

But Logan...

---

Logan walked through the vegetation right by where he and the other guys were cutting apart a tree. He stopped short once he saw the head of an animal laying on the yellow grass.

“What you doing, Logan?” One of the guys asked from behind.

Logan looked around before seeing large scratch marks on a tree trunk, lined with red. “Y/N.” He whispered, before running down the hill and through the forest.

Once he hit the clearing, he could see the truck on the side of the road. Logan reached the car, his hands gripping the window frame as he scanned the empty interior. “Y/N…?” His voice was rough, the crack of worry breaking through, echoing in the quiet forest.

His eyes darted down to the disturbed earth, faint scuff marks in the dirt telling him where you might’ve been dragged. His heart hammered as he followed the path into the trees, every step growing heavier with dread as he moved through the dense underbrush, the silence unsettling.

And then, in a small clearing, he found you.

You were lying there, so still, your skin pale against the forest floor, hair fanned around you like a dark halo. Blood flecked the ground, stark and terrible against the greenery. He staggered, dropping to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, one of them clenching briefly before he let himself touch you.

“Y/N…” he whispered, voice breaking as he cupped your face, his fingers brushing a smear of dirt from your cheek. Your eyes were closed, lips parted just slightly, as if you’d been trying to say his name. For a split second, he could almost pretend you were just asleep, and that any second you’d open your eyes, make some joke, or reach up to tug him down to you.

But there was no warmth, no spark, nothing.

Logan’s breath caught, and he pulled you close, his arms cradling you as if he could shield you from the reality already etched into his heart. The rage simmered below his skin, burning through the grief, fueling the ache with something primal. He rocked back, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his face buried in your hair, trying to hold on to any last trace of you, the faint scent of you still lingering, even as everything around him felt like it was falling apart.

“You… You were supposed to be safe here,” he whispered against your hair, voice hoarse. “I shoulda been here. I shoulda…” His words trailed off into silence as he sat there, unmoving, clutching you in his arms as if the weight of his grief alone could pull you back.

He looked down at you, his thumb grazing over your cheek one last time, as though trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. “Y/N… I swear… I’ll make him pay.” The last words came out like a promise, a vow laced with the kind of anger only a man like Logan could bear. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before letting out a long, broken breath.

When he finally tore his gaze away from you, his eyes turned cold, a new resolve searing through him.

This wasn’t over.

umm... sorry??

i tried to make a different version of how logan got the name 'wolverine' to try and fit reader's personality, since she probably doesn't know about the myth kayla did.

next chapter will be x2!

[gf2bellamy]

hi, angel! your writing is beautiful and i hope it’s okay that i ask for a request. i was wondering if i could get some hurt/comfort of ANY FORM but i would particularly enjoy reader comforting spencer. maybe they find him high as a kite in his apartment and they help him sober up and they take care of him (s2) or maybe he has a terrible nightmare involving reader and they calm him down (s12 post-prison). who knows! it’s all up to you. thank you again!

nightmares — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer has nightmares , also mention of spencer not sleeping a/n: hiii !!<333 i hope you like this :)

You weren’t really paying attention to whatever science fiction show was playing—just a random episode of something Spencer had put on earlier.

It had been a nice evening. Garcia and Luke had stopped by, the four of you laughing over takeout containers and easy conversation in Spencer’s apartment. Hours had slipped away without notice, and by the time Garcia and Luke decided to head home, it was very late.

Now, it was just you and Spencer. Well, Spencer was fast asleep.

You sat curled up in his armchair, your legs tucked beneath you, watching him from across the room. His head rested against a pillow on the couch, his breath steady and slow. Loose curls fell over his face, shifting slightly every time he exhaled.

For a moment, you considered going home. You could slip out quietly, head back to your own bed and let him sleep undisturbed.

But the thought of him waking up to an empty apartment made you hesitate.

You knew how much silence could sometimes feel suffocating to him, how loneliness could creep in during the quiet hours of the night.

So, instead, you leaned back against the chair, resting your head against the plush fabric, willing yourself to stay awake just a little longer.

Just in case he stirred. Just in case he needed someone there when he did.

Some time had passed, and you were pretty sure you had dozed off for a few seconds when a sound from the couch jolted you back to awareness. Blinking away the haze of sleep, you turned your head, rubbing your eyes as you tried to focus.

Spencer shifted restlessly, his body twitching, his breath coming faster.

At first, you thought he was simply stirring, but as you watched, confusion giving way to concern, you realized—he was having a nightmare.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should wake him. Spencer didn’t talk much about his nightmares, but you knew he had them.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up from the armchair, stepping lightly toward the couch. His face was tense, brows furrowed, his lips moving as he muttered something under his breath—words you couldn’t quite catch.

“Spencer,” you said softly, reaching out to graze his arm, your fingers barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t wake. If anything, he tensed further, his body practically curling in on itself.

Your heart clenched.

This time, you gripped his arm a little more firmly, shaking him gently but with purpose. “Spencer,” you repeated, voice a little steadier now.

His breath hitched, his body stiffening beneath your touch. And then, all at once, his eyes flew open.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just stared at each other, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the shadows of whatever nightmare had gripped him still lingering in his eyes.

Spencer sat up slightly, shifting so there was space for you to sit at the edge of the couch. Hesitantly, you lowered yourself down, your fingers twitching at your sides, unsure if you should reach for him again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a shaky hand through his curls, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, watching as his fingers trembled slightly in his hair. You hesitated before adding, “Are you okay?”

A stupid question, you realized the second it left your lips. Of course, he wasn’t. How could he be?

It had only been a few months since he got out of prison, but the weight of it still clung to him. You saw it in the way his shoulders tensed at sudden noises, in the way his eyes darted around unfamiliar spaces as if searching for an escape.

And in moments like this—when sleep wasn’t an escape but a trap, forcing him to relive things he never spoke about.

He let out a slow breath, dropping his hand from his hair. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickered to yours for a moment before he looked away, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting to keep himself together.

Your chest ached. You wanted to say something that would make it better, something that would chase away whatever ghosts were haunting him. But words felt useless.

So instead, you reached for his hand.

He tensed at first—just a slight, instinctive reaction—but then, after a beat, he let you take it. His fingers were warm against yours.

“I… I couldn’t save you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “In the dream, you were… and I couldn’t…” He trailed off, his grip tightening on your hand as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Your heart broke a little at the raw vulnerability in his voice. “Spencer,” you said softly, waiting until he opened his eyes to look at you. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to save me because I’m already safe. We’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice cracking.

“Stop apologizing,” you said gently.You traced his fingers lightly, barely a whisper of touch.

“I’m sorry you have them,” you murmured, your voice quiet, almost unsure. Your eyes flickered downward, focusing on the way your fingers tangled together.

Spencer followed your gaze, watching your hands with an unreadable expression. He was sitting more upright now.

He was silent for a long moment before exhaling through his nose, shaking his head. “They’re… inevitable,” he said, voice rough around the edges. “I’ve had nightmares before. But these…” He trailed off, his fingers twitching against yours.

“These are different,” you finished for him.

He swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

You didn’t ask for details. You didn’t press. If he wanted to tell you, he would. If he needed the space to keep it to himself, you’d give him that, too.

Still, you wanted to help—somehow.

“What do you do when you have them?” you asked softly. You were certain this wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares about prison.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a second before he answered. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you repeated, your heartbeat picking up as you felt his grip tighten slightly around your hand. His thumb absentmindedly traced slow, careful circles against your skin, and you had to remind yourself to focus.

“I just stay awake after having them,” he admitted, his voice quiet. His eyes flickered toward the television before settling back on your entangled hands.

You frowned. “Well, that’s not healthy.”

A ghost of a smile almost—almost—touched his lips. “I don’t think nightmares care much about health,” he murmured.

You sighed, shifting slightly so you were angled toward him more. “Still, you can’t just stay awake all night every time.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but his fingers stilled against yours, and you could tell he was thinking about it.

“I don’t think you should stay awake now,” you murmured, your voice soft but certain. “It’s not good for you. And I’m worried about you, Spence.”

You had been suppressing the urge to reach for him all night, resisting the pull of wanting to smooth his unruly curls.

But now, you let yourself give in. Gently, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear.

Spencer exhaled sharply, to tell you that you didn’t need to worry about him. “You don’t have to be—”

“But I am,” you whispered, your fingertips grazing lightly against his temple before you pulled back.

An idea formed in your mind, and before you could say it, Spencer must have already guessed where your thoughts were headed.

“No, you don’t have to—” he started, already shaking his head.

“Maybe it’ll help,” you interrupted, standing up, your hand still holding his. You didn’t let go. “Unless… you don’t want to?”

Spencer hesitated for only a second before following your lead, standing as well. “No, I want to, I just—” He swallowed, his voice quieting. “What if I have another nightmare and wake you up?”

You were already gently pulling him toward his bedroom, your fingers laced with his. You looked back at him, offering the smallest smile.

“I don’t mind.”

And you meant it.

You pulled him into his bedroom, where the bedcovers were neatly tucked in. As you let go of his hand, the reality of the situation began to settle in. Nervousness bubbled up in your chest.

You quickly pulled the covers back, trying to focus on the simple task of making the bed look comfortable.

He sat on the bed first, scooting over to give you room. You followed, sliding in beside him.

Spencer laid his head back on the pillow, his eyes closing briefly. You did the same, but the silence stretched for a moment longer than usual.

Then, as if by some silent agreement, you both turned your heads at the same time.

You met his eyes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Your hair is so chaotic,” you said softly in a playful tone.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a smile too. “I know,” he replied, his voice light. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.”

You laughed quietly, the sound low and warm between you.

And without thinking, you reached over, your fingers gently pushing a few stray curls from his forehead. He didn’t pull away, letting you fix it, the touch soft and almost reverent.

“You’re lucky I like chaos,” you murmured, the smile still lingering as you brushed your fingers through his hair for a second longer than you intended.

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he turned slightly toward you, the space between you now much smaller than before. His hand found yours, fingers brushing lightly, sending warmth flooding through you.

“Thanks for staying,” he said quietly.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in response. “Of course.”

After a beat, he shifted, and before you even realized it, his body had turned toward yours, his arm pulling you gently closer. You didn’t resist, your body responding instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of him beside you.

Slowly, you both became a tangle of limbs, your head resting against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling the tension leave your body as Spencer’s breathing slowed beside you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, the motion soothing.

The next morning, the soft light from the window gently woke you up. Your eyes opened slowly, still heavy with sleep, but then you realized after a moment that Spencer was already awake.

He was tracing soothing circles on your back, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, lost in thought.

You stirred slightly in his arms, and his attention shifted, his eyes landing on you. He watched you for a moment before you finally lifted your head, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice low and groggy, as his hand brushed a few strands of hair away from your face.

“Hi,” you whispered back, smiling softly but resisting the urge to just close your eyes again and fall back to sleep against his chest.

There was a brief moment of silence between you both. Spencer’s fingers continued their slow, calming motion on your back, but then he spoke again, his voice quieter now, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he said, his words tentative but hopeful, as if he was waiting for confirmation.

A rush of happiness flooded through you, you sat up, crossing your legs in front of you. You turned toward him with a wide, genuine smile, your heart skipping a beat.

“Really?” you asked, your eyes sparkling as you looked at him.

“Really,” Spencer nodded, his voice still soft but with an edge of relief in it.

You couldn’t help but smile even wider, the warmth in your chest spreading. “I’m so glad, Spence,” you said, your voice filled with genuine happiness.

Spencer seemed to search your face for a moment, then his hand reached out to rest gently on yours, fingers interlacing. He gave you a small but sincere smile.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You squeezed his hand gently. "Anytime," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his. "I’ll always be here."

And in that moment, Spencer realized just how much you meant to him, how much peace you’d brought into his life, even when he wasn’t asking for it.

[atimelessheaven]

Mom!Nika x Wife Reader

fluff :)

warning: use of y/n, mention of nightmares (the nightmare isn’t described though!) please let me know if i missed any!

header by: @yailtsv ! the best ever!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

it was a 10:30 pm on a saturday. nika’s wife was out with her friends. nika’s had already put her two year old, maddy, to bed. now content in her office catching up on some work.

she was intently focused, sitting at her desk, watching film when she suddenly hears her daughter crying. immediately on edge “maddy? what happened baby?” she says loudly so the two year old can hear her as she stands up heading to see her toddler.

she walks to maddy’s room finding her toddler crying in her crib. nika picks her up and starts kissing her beautiful brown hair, trying to comfort her. maddy just wouldn’t stop crying though. “you’re okay honey, mama’s got you.”

nika walks from her daughters room into her own sitting down on her bed trying to cradle her sweet daughter, to get her to calm down. after about ten minutes of nika being super concerned, and trying to talk to maddy to calm her down, maddy finally started sniffling, her tears are practically gone.

“ma-mama” maddy says while trying to scratch at her eyes that are now irritated from her tears. “hi baby, mama’s here.” nika reply’s smiling at her baby while rubbing her little cheek.

about five minutes later maddy finally seems completely content. nika finally asks her “my sweet baby, what happened sweetheart?” maddy just clung on tighter to nika with her little lip wobbling again. “oh sweet girl, you’re okay, i’m right here, you’re so safe, and so loved, mama is right here.”

“scary” little maddy mumbles against nika’s chest. “what’s scary baby?” nika says rubbing maddy’s back to further comfort her. “sleep. no sleep.” nika frowns “did my sweet baby have a bad dream?” maddy just grumbles and tries to burry herself further into nika.

“what can mama do to make you feel better?” “ice cream?” nika smiles but then follows it up with “well baby i’d love to but you’ll never go back to sleep with all of that sugar in your system, and your mommy will kill me” maddy only takes away one thing from all of that “no sleep! please mama, no sleep” she whines tearing up again.

“okay baby, no sleep. do you want to watch a movie?” nika tries to reason with the toddler. maddy nods her head, making nika giggle. “and ice cream?” maddy says looking up at nika with her pleading, big brown eyes, ones so similar to nika’s own. nika just can’t say no to her little cuties face. “okay fine, but we can’t tell mommy”

nika and maddy sit there giggling together about their plans when “can’t tell mommy what?” is said making them stop laughing and look up to see that y/n is finally home. “oh! hey baby, how was your night? did you have so much fun?” nika says trying to change the subject. “hey baby! i had so much fun!”

“i’m so glad your night was so fun!” nika says smiling hoping she is in the clear. “yeah me too. now what can’t you two tell me?” y/n says circling back, narrowing her eyes at nika. “oh it was nothing” “nika.” “okay fine, i was going to have an ice cream and movie night with my little princess” nika says pulling maddy closer and giving y/n puppy eyes, and then looking at maddy and back to y/n. maddy catching on doing the same.

“nika. are you insane? its 11:10. she needs to be in bed anyways. i was about to ask you what she was doing up.” y/n says as politely as possible to nika, while also making sure nika knew she was upset about this. “no mommy! no sleep! no sleep!” maddy says tearing up once again, truly terrified that her mommy would even suggest such a thing.

“it’s okay maddy, you’re okay” nika says trying to reassure maddy, while half smiling at y/n. “she had a bad dream and doesn’t want to go back to sleep. i figured one night of movies, and ice cream wouldn’t do any harm.” nika says as she hugs maddy tightly as she cries.

y/n walks to go sit down by them and rubs maddy’s back. “my sweet girl, mommy is so sorry for making you upset. mommy didn’t know.” she says trying to calm maddy down. “i guess ice cream can’t hurt, maddy can i be invited to you and mama’s ice cream movie night?” maddy turns to look at her, then back to nika, like she’s actually contemplating on whether or not her mommy can join them. “okay mommy you can have ice cream with us!”

so that’s how the mühl family ended their night. the three of them snuggled up in bed watching zootopia, and eating ice cream! the perfect end to their saturday.

[kennedysbaby]

be my angel

content: re4r leon x female reader. domestic fluff. making out. established relationship. angst elements. author's note: inspired by the mazzy star song! the lack of leon kennedy fluff is concerning. also first time posting on tumblr yay.

₊⊹⁀➴ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55001149

if it weren't for you, leon probably would've lost his mind a long time ago. you were so sweet, so gentle, so understanding—he sometimes questioned if he even deserved someone as unscathed as yourself. it was comforting dating a regular civilian, someone who wasn't exposed to the daily nightmares he faced in his line of work. being so blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world was a luxury he no longer afforded, never did. 

leon hated the sad look that'd cross your perfect features as he left for one of his gruesome missions, that last goodbye kiss that had him tightly gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, the asphalt crackling beneath the tires. the fact that he couldn't tell you much about said missions, given their classified nature, only made him more upset—it felt like wordlessly forsaking you for one-to-two weeks at a time.

oh, but the sweet expression you'd have on your face as you twisted the metal doorknob, the way it lightened up at the mere sight of him. it had leon's chest tightening and breath hitching, wanting nothing more than to pull you into a long, hard kiss. you had him acting a fool, needless to say. 

tonight was a little different, though. the digital clock on the dashboard read 12:47 am, causing leon to scoff lightly under his breath. he disliked coming home late, knowing most likely that you were probably up, huddled on the couch with thick blankets wrapped around you, wishing it was his arms keeping you warm instead. 

leon's gaze then drifted back up towards the heavy rain thrashing vehemently against the ground, the deafening silence disrupted by the droplets pattering against the window and the swiping of the windshield wipers doing their job, giving him a clear view of the road ahead. he was still a good twenty minutes away from home, and that fact alone makes him press his foot against the gas a little harder, damning any traffic laws at the moment. 

though, crashing the car in an attempt to see you sooner was a bit counterintuitive—and he'd be seeing god, if anyone.

once leon finally pulled up to the quaint little townhouse the two of you owned together, he parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition and shoving them into the pocket of his black cargo pants. with a soft sigh, he quietly shut the car door, and walked up the steps to the front door. the rain had calmed down a bit, simply drizzling now. 

knock, knock, knock . his fisted hand gently rapped against the door a few times, but to leon's dismay, he still hadn't heard your footsteps leading up to him. it then hit him that it was one in the morning, and it was more than likely that you'd fallen asleep—possibly from staying up for him. a frown creased onto his lips, upset with himself for coming back so late. even if it wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty. despite how much you reassured him, leon always thought you could a whole lot better than him.

reluctantly, leon pulled his set of house keys out of his pocket, and slid the metal through the lock, opening the door with a click . inside was dark, quiet…yet peaceful. as he padded across the area, the floorboards lightly creaking beneath his feet, he took notice of how clean it was; someone had used their time wisely, he thought with a smile. well, either that, or you had just gotten so bored out of your mind waiting for him. he was well aware of how antsy you'd get on the days you knew he was coming back.

leon was also now aware of how disappointed you probably were now, seeing as he came back far later than anticipated. 

that's when his eyes land upon you, snoring away softly on the sofa, and—just like he imagined—curled up beneath a warm, knitted blanket. the open tv cast a soft glow across the tidy living room, alongside a few warm-scented candles you had lit. that, alongside the rhythmic thrumming of the rain against the windowpane, made for a very cozy atmosphere. leon took careful steps towards the couch, kneeling down in front of you. 

"i'm sorry, angel," leon mumbled, his voice soft as to not wake you up. he brushed a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, the contrasting feeling of his calloused fingers against your soft skin roused you a bit, causing you to stir in place. leon chuckled at your tired grumbles, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

the kiss is what fully wakes you up, instantly jolting upwards, sitting yourself upright. the blanket rustles around you as your sleepy eyes widen, registering the fact that your boyfriend—that you hadn't seen in two weeks—was right in front of you, giving you the softest smile. "leon?" you muttered, still in disbelief.

"go back to sleep baby, we can talk in the morning," he said, peppering gentle kisses across your face. your skin burns beneath his lips, any feelings of exhaustion slowly slipping away. if leon really wanted you to go back to sleep, he damn well knew better than to act all sappy like this.

"no, no, no," you quickly—and incoherently—mumbled, blinking a few times to adjust your eyesight, "it's okay, i'm not sleepy. i was waiting on you anyway," that's when you started to excitedly ramble, "i just…forget about me, what kept you so long?" you raised a curious eyebrow. "something bad happened?"

"nah," leon shook his head, still smiling—god, it felt so good seeing you after so long. "writing up that report took a little longer than anticipated. i'm really sorry, pretty." his smile then shifted into a frown, a soft sigh escaping from the depth of his lungs. "so sorry," he whispered as he kissed your lips for a quick second. 

the look of pure anguish contorted on his sharp features sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. despite how tired you were, seeing leon look so upset over the fact that he couldn't see you sooner made your mind dizzy with love. 

"that's okay. it happens. i understand." you replied honestly. you were aware of leon's job before getting wrapped up in a relationship with him. and you also knew just how much this man loved you, even if he couldn't see how amazing he was. flaws were human, you'd tell him. people tended to forget that—leon might be a zombie-killing machine, but deep down, he was only a man. one with feelings and emotions. 

dating leon made you feel like such a special girl. he was a closed-off, reserved man. just one quick look at him and you could tell that he most definitely could kill a man with his bare hands alone—if he wanted to, that is. he was cold, intimidating, and brutal on the field. but you didn't see that side of him. 

no, you saw a total sweetheart. in your presence, leon was a complete softie. it was actually quite adorable seeing him sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee at the crack of dawn, dressed only in loose pajama pants, his chiseled abs put on display just for you . his blonde hair framed his face so perfectly, the soft strands falling in front of his face. despite being a total fucking unit, having biceps nearly bigger than your face, he was so gentle with you, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. 

at least, he tried to be, but sometimes he got a little… carried away .

you were the person who got to see him leaning over the bathroom sink, holding a razor to the lower half of his face, shaving away the light stubble that had formed after neglecting the duty for a few days simply because he got too lazy. you saw him narrowing his eyes at the god awful instruction booklet that came with ikea furniture as he attempted assembling a new bookcase. you loved the way he would sometimes squint while looking at something afar, then claiming he "didn't need glasses" when you pointed it out. 

it was so raw, so real. 

leon just sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, "you do realize you are too sweet for your own good sometimes, right? you should be upset i was late, i promised i'd be home for dinner." he chuckled dryly, climbing onto the sofa and taking a seat right next to you, sitting above the comforter. 

"i dunno what i'd do without you," his gaze was trained on you, admiring how pretty you were in this state—with messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and puffy cheeks. "i love you so much." would it be too awkward to mention that he'd marry you in a heartbeat at this time of night? probably.

you can only laugh in response, trying to downplay how much his words were affecting you. "you're so corny. i love you too, lee." yeah, if he was so corny, then why was your heart beating of your chest?

leon was being dead serious, even if his execution made it seem like he was just playing around. you were his light in the darkness, his sole comfort amidst his disastrous life.

he slid his brown leather jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. your eyes fall to his arms and how yummy they look in his compression shirt. would it be weird to say you just wanted to take a bite out of them sometimes? lovingly, of course. "i missed you," leon mumbled, his own voice taking on a sleepy lilt. 

"me too." you shook your way out from beneath the thick blanket, scooting closer to your precious boyfriend. you cradle his cheeks with your hands, smiling as you stared into his icy blues. his eyes really were to die for, you could just get lost in them sometimes. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. you go in for a kiss, soft lips meshing with his chapped ones. 

the action elicits a soft, content sigh from leon, his big hands running up and down your back above your thin tank top as the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, lips moving against one another languidly. your chest presses up against his, sending a pleasant rush through leon's veins. when you two pull away for air, a bit breathless and frazzled, you can only marvel at the sight of him before you.

his lips were parted, taking slow and deliberate breaths, his pale cheeks now a little rosy, and his tired eyes now glazed with lust, drunk on your lips alone. you chuckle softly, your hands still cradling his cheeks as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. he kisses the tip of it, allowing you to slid it between his lips for a split second. it's so awfully intimate, causing waves of satisfaction to wash over leon. 

that's when you plunge right back in, this time your tongue slipping past his lips, interlocking with his. he moans so softly, his hands roughly gripping your hips, drawing out a sigh of your own. leon mutters hoarsely, "you're too good for me, sweetheart. way too good. what did i do to deserve you?" he's still so in disbelief that a precious thing like yourself is all his .

this causes you to part again, a slight look of confusion crossing your features. "are you serious, leon? what didn't you do?" you shake your head, sighing. "you're way too hard on yourself, baby. i swear, i've never had a man that's as perfect as you before, regardless of what you might think. you deserve this. you deserve everything after what you've been through." 

you loop your arms around him tightly, hugging him as your bury your face in his chest. your thumb traces little circles on his back, as you whisper, "don't ever think you aren't enough." that was a little something you'd picked up on in the three years you'd been dating leon. he was very unsure of himself. he didn't deem himself worthy of love, no less the amount you poured out for him.

"i love you, in all your blonde glory," you chuckled, not wanting to sound too deep, even if your words carried an incredibly heavy weight.

leon couldn't help but feel a swell of emotions all at once, instinctively holding you even tighter, pulling you close and never wanting to let go of you. not even for a single second. "you're so corny," he mocked, letting out a light laugh as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. god, you fit him just like a puzzle piece.

"it's all your fault, asshole. you started it." you grin, lifting your head up from his chest, and leaning into kiss his perfect lips again. 

"hmm," leon mumbled, a low chuckle erupting from his throat, "guess that's too bad, then." 

finally, after kissing him for a good several minutes, taking labored breaths through your nose, you pulled apart, a thin trail of your mixed saliva following suit, now dripping down your chin. you chuckled, wiping it away with the back of your hand. your hips shift a bit suggestively as you climb off of his lap, causing leon to inhale sharply. 

"you need a shower. i'm going to bed." is what you say with a snicker as you turn on your heel, padding across the wooden floors to your shared bedroom. leon just scoffs, and shakes his head, watching as you stumble away from him.

"that's not fair." he grumbled to himself, his hands falling to his thighs.

he did tell you to go back to sleep earlier, though. damn it. 

[satinestales]

❝paint me a heaven of love with your bloodied mouth❞ | qimir x reader, ch1

pairing: qimir x fem!reader!yord's sister

summary: You were never confident about the retreat mission on Khofar, always fearing for your safety and that of your friends. Your worst nightmare comes true when a mysterious masked man kills your brother. Driven by grief and rage, you launch a desperate attack, which leaves you unconscious. You wake up, surprisingly unharmed, on the stranger's home island. Consumed by anger and a thirst for revenge, you set out to avenge your brother, only to uncover secrets you never imagined.

warnings: MDNI!, english is not my native language, violence, major character death, mentions of blood, mental illness, smut in upcoming chapters, enemies to lovers, vulgar language, angst n comfort

a/n: planning for this to be a mini-series, around five chapters, and for the idea I have to thank @ladysw01 . Hope y'all like this one too, and also stay tuned for he turns me scarlet pt2, it's in the works!

now playing, when it's cold i'd like to die by, moby

Shadows loomed, their rough forms twisting in the dim moonlight, filtering through the dense canopy above. The forest floor was a maze of roots and underbrush, but you navigated it with the agility of a creature born to the wild. Sweat poured down your face, stinging your eyes, blending with the fear that clawed at your heart.

You felt it—the tug in your heart, tearing at its edges. You experienced it once before and hoped you’d never have to again. But now, it was back, and far worse than ever. You dared to imagine what might happen but quickly dismissed the thought. He was your only family. You couldn’t let it happen.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you sprinted through the oppressive darkness, the hum of your ignited lightsaber a solitary beacon in the gloom. Branches whipped your cheeks and tangled in your hair, but you pushed on, driven by the urgent sense of danger thrumming through the Force. You had felt it, a disturbance sharp and sudden, a vision of your Yord in mortal danger.

"Yord!" you screamed; your voice swallowed by the infinite, uncaring wilderness. Your steps faltered as the sense of dread intensified, leading you closer, ever closer, to the source of your terror.

Bursting into a clearing, you slid to a halt, your heart crashing at the sight before you. Yord was hanging mid-air, his feet dangling uselessly, held above by a dark force. The stranger you heard so much about, stood before him, one bloody hand outstretched, the other resting at their side with an eerie calmness.

Your eyes were only glued on the man and your brother, dangling in the air. You failed to see Master Sol and Mae standing close by, both standing there in shock, not daring to breathe.

Before you managed to move or cry out, in a fluid, almost nonchalant motion, the stranger twisted their wrist. Your heart stopped. A sickening snap echoed through the forest, and Yord's body went limp, his lifeless form flung aside with a casual flick, landing in a crumpled heap against the base of a tree.

Numbly, you stared at the lifeless body, discarded like a ragdoll, as if he meant nothing. No tears left your eyes, but you swore you couldn't feel your heart beating, as if it had stopped when your Yord’s did. You didn't know how long you stood there, staring at the person who once made you laugh and helped you become a better person. His soft laugh, his insistence on following the rules, and his desire to please others—all gone. He had taught you how to read. Now, everything was gone. His laughter faded into the darkness along with his heartbeat.

You felt like you heard faint voices in the background, but all your focus was on Yord's empty eyes.

It was Sol, shouting your name, desperately warning you to move. But no matter how hard you tried; you were frozen in place. The shock and grief had paralyzed you. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the creature in the mask. The small flicker of its movement shattered your paralysis, and a surge of anger erupted within you, erasing all other thoughts. The need for vengeance overtook your grief, fueling your every breath and heartbeat.

It all happened like a fever dream—foggy, with only a few clear fragments. You heard a scream, unable to tell if it was yours or someone else's. But you didn't care. Your legs moved on their own toward the stranger, your eyes fixed on his dark, long waves of hair.

Your lightsaber slipped through your fingers, the weight of it suddenly too heavy to hold. Your arms seemed to move of their own accord, rising toward the sky as if reaching for something beyond grasp. The air crackled with a threating storm, ear-shattering roar that drowned out all other sounds. In that moment, you locked eyes with the stranger, fear etched deeply into their features, mirroring your own uncertainty.

Time slowed to a crawl as lightning split the sky, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The thunderous boom echoed through your bones, shaking you to your core. The stranger's expression twisted in horror, as if they knew something you didn't, something that would change everything.

Then, as swiftly as the storm had gathered, darkness enveloped your senses. Your consciousness faded into the cool embrace of the moss beneath you, leaving behind unanswered questions and a lingering sense of dread.

*· . ✶

As you woke up, cold air embraced you, raising goosebumps across your body. Your head pounded with such intensity that you considered it might explode, while your arms trembled in lingering unease. You slowly lifted yourself up on your elbows, trying to figure out where you were and recall anything that had happened.

Your head throbbed painfully, your legs were covered in bruises, and your hands were wrapped in bandages. Confused, you tore them off, only to reveal deep burns etched like tree branches from your palms down to your forearms, resembling thunder silhouettes in the sky.

You had no memory of what had happened, until you spotted your lightsaber next to the mouth of the cave you found yourself trapped in. Yord.

Yord.

Yord was dead. Your brother was dead. My brother's dead. Dead.

Your heart sank into your stomach, and suddenly, you found yourself lying on your side, vomiting beside your makeshift bed. Your hair fell like curtains around your head, your eyes fluttering shut. The reality of your Yord’s death was almost too much to bear. Thoughts swirled chaotically; you wanted to scream, cry, and even trade places with him. Emotions blurred together in your mind, but one stood out starkly: anger. It surged within you, painting your vision red. You yearned for revenge, for the murderer to suffer, to experience the agony you felt in that moment.

You didn't dare count how long you bent over, vomiting on the cold cave surface. The bitter taste of vomit mixed with your salty tears woke you up, pushing you to pull yourself together and look around. You struggled to breathe and see through your watery eyes, so you reached out through the Force. Finding yourself in a small cave on an unfamiliar island, surrounded by a wild ocean, you caught sight of a shadowy figure. A dark force enveloping their silhouette.

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes flew open. There he was—the one who had taken Yord’s life. And now he has brought you here. Was it to end your life as well? To make you suffer? But you were already in agony. Doubt lingered whether he could intensify the pain any further.

You reached out through the Force again, seeking a clear vision of the target's location. You saw him taking slow, deliberate steps, carefully navigating around sharp rocks until he reached a shore where water brushed around his ankles. Following his trail from your current position, you discovered a path that would lead you to him.

It took you minutes to find the strength to get out of bed, ignoring the messy curls in front of your eyes and the dirty clothes from the previous night. Grabbing your lightsaber, you made your way out of the cave. Trusting your intuition, you followed the stranger's path, mentally preparing to face him. Fear wasn't in your heart—only fury and grief. You wanted to see his head separate from his body.

The trail was longer than expected, but you didn't stop once you reached your target. He swam peacefully in the calm water, his back facing you. His long, wet hair draped over strong shoulders marked with scars. You watched as he ran his hand through his hair—the same hand that had killed Yord and torn your family apart. Anger surged within you; your fury fueled by the simple sight of him.

He sensed you; you could feel it. Your anger was loud enough for the entire galaxy to hear, and you wanted him to hear it the loudest. Without thinking, you began walking towards the water, lightsaber ignited, ready to strike.

You focused solely on him—his strong back and raven hair. He didn’t even turn to face you, though you knew he could feel all your emotions. He remained motionless, confident that you wouldn’t attack. Or at least, he thought so.

Lifting your lightsaber as you closed the distance, the water now up to your hips, you struck his back. The stranger was slow to react, barely managing to block your attack. Your lightsaber grazed his shoulder, leaving a scorching scar. Realizing he was wrong about your intentions, he moved quickly in the water, turning and twisting your arm until you dropped your lightsaber, just as he had done with your brother. He pressed you against his chest, his hands gripping your arms, but before he could strangle you, you drove your elbow into his ribs, pushing hard until you heard a crack.

He released his grip to catch his breath, giving you a few precious seconds to summon your lightsaber from the depths of the water. As it returned to your hand, poised to strike, you felt the stranger's hands clamp down on your shoulders, his fingers digging in fiercely. The pain seared through you, his nails tearing at your flesh. Taking advantage of your vulnerable position, he seized your lightsaber and snapped it in half effortlessly, as if it was a mere stick. You watched in disbelief as he threw the broken parts into the deep ocean behind you, leaving you stunned. Before you could react, he swiftly wrapped one arm around your neck while the other pinned your hands behind your back, pressing his body close against yours.

"Not the morning greeting I was hoping for," he purred against your ear, his arm tightening around your windpipe, robbing you of breath. You felt a strange sensation in your stomach as he pressed closer, the warmth of his body making you shiver involuntarily. It was unsettling, making you feel nauseous.

You fought back, struggling to break free from his grasp, but with each attempt, his hold on you tightened, leaving marks on your neck and wrists. You fought against the tears threatening to fall, overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and humiliation. You yearned to threaten him, to make him scream for what he had done to Yord and to you.

But you couldn't move an inch, forced to endure his deadly grip on you. You felt his breath tickling the hair on your neck, his damp, bare body pressed against your back, his hand crushing your wrists together.

“Do you remember me?” he asked, his voice low against your ear, his nose pressing against your cheek. You felt his smile as you struggled to breathe and move, fighting against his overpowering grip. The fury surged through you even more intensely, his mocking tone fueling a desire to scream out in defiance. How could you not? You saw him twist your brother’s neck and you were certain he was about to do the same thing to you.

As if he could read your mind, which he likely could, he chuckled softly to himself.

"Not from yesterday," he murmured into your ear, his arm around your neck loosening slightly to allow you to breathe, yet he did not release you. "We met a few days ago, in my shop. You were there too." he continued.

You resisted the urge to struggle against his grip, realizing you had no other choice but to listen. Attempting to calm your anger, you unwillingly focused on his words. You recalled visiting the suspect's shop a few days earlier—a place with a man with long, greasy black hair and an odd voice. Uncertain of where he was leading with this revelation, you listened intently.

"So lost in your own selfishness that you didn't even recognize me?" he mocked, twisting your wrists to inflict more pain, as though hurt you didn’t recognize him. Then, the realization struck. He had been there all along, pulling the strings and mocking everyone. Mae's master. The stranger beneath the mask. Yord's killer.

"You—" you choked on your words, barely able to speak. You recalled visiting the apothecary in the days before, noticing him as the new face in the city. He had pretended to be new, and you had enjoyed his company, visiting him several times. A wave of humiliation washed over you, and you sensed that he felt it too.

“That’s right,” he whispered into your ear, his hands briefly leaving your body before firmly gripping your waist and pressing you against the nearest rock. Finally, you got a clear look at his face. In the darkness of the previous night, you hadn't seen him clearly, and moments ago, you hadn't cared. Now, his gaze met yours directly as he pushed you against the rough surface, leaving your hands free, hanging by your side. You had the freedom to strike him, to fight your way out, but you remained still.

He allowed your eyes to roam over him. You scanned his high cheekbones and sharp features, framed by dark waves, curtains to his deep dark eyes. Pink, full lips, and set above a clean mustache. Your gaze then fell to his visible collarbones, adorned with salty droplets.

He was undeniably beautiful, and you felt sick you didn’t even try to deny it. He looked like a fallen angel, someone straight out of religious legends you would read about.

He savored your shocked gaze, but what intrigued him more were your thundering thoughts. Inside your mind, thoughts clashed and screamed over one another, leaving no room for silence or clarity. You instantly recognized his intent from his intense stare and tried to block him out of your mind. But it was too late. He effortlessly stripped you bare, reading you like a mythical book.

"You're scared," he uttered with total seriousness. You struggled to comprehend how he could read you so easily and attempted to use your powers to cloud his thoughts. Yet, after years of suppressing them, you failed once more. “Not of me. Of the Order.” He tilted his head, a gesture that suggested surprise at what he had uncovered.

"Get out of my head," you hissed at him, delivering a punch to his chest, but he didn't even flinch. The water was cold, and the chill in the air only worsened it. The only warmth came from his body—and from another place you tried to ignore.

"You lie to yourself," he added, ignoring the punches to his chest and the barrage of curses you hurled at him. "The Jedi were never your family. You live in delusion." He looked down at you, a hint of pity in his expression.

“You killed Yord,” you cried out, feeling his grip on your waist loosen.

“He was never your brother. Not really.” His words struck you like a blow, and in a surge of rage, you punched him in the chest with all your strength. He stumbled back, the warmth of his grip vanishing from your waist, leaving you both separated and gasping in the cold air.

You stared at him, eyes wide with uncertainty, unsure of your next move. You watched his chest rise and fall, strands of hair falling over his forehead. Fear gripped you, worried that he had seen through you, revealing memories you wished to forget.

"You lied about who you were. You murdered Jedi like they were cockroaches. My brother!" you screamed at him, tears threatening to spill as you fought to hold them back. You slowly made your way back to the shore, ignoring his presence following in your footsteps. The wet pants clung to your body, making each step more difficult than the last.

As you reached the shore, small rocks stabbing at your feet, you heard him speak.

“Then why did he never consider you as his sister.” His voice was cold and low, monotone with no emotions on the surface. Your movements stopped, listening as he made his way to the shore as well, standing just a few centimeters away from you. Your chest hurt like someone was pinching the flesh of your heart.

You forced yourself to turn around, facing him and his ethereal beauty. There he stood, bare before you, vulnerable and exposed. You tried to focus on his words, your heart sinking into your stomach.

"You heard me." He tilted his head, taking a small step toward you. His eyes locked onto yours, unwavering. "You know I'm right. Ever since you became Padawans, he kept you apart. No matter what you tried, even resorting to tricks just to see him, he always pushed you away. Following rules that made it harder for you to be together, like the Order meant more to him than you did. You were just a little girl, and he chose duty over your bond." He continued, every word a fuel to your anger. But now you weren’t sure who the anger was meant for.

“Shut the fuck up!” You raised your voice, stepping down to him. “You don’t know anything. You’re a Sith! A murderer! You don’t know anything about me or my life.’”

"Except I do." He allowed you to approach, keeping you within arm's reach. "You think things changed after you both passed the trials and had more freedom. They didn't. He feared you. He feared your power. An empath, right? The most dangerous ability one can possess. Even the Order feared it. With one emotion, you could overthrow everything overnight. They couldn't trust you. Not even your own brother could."

You lunged at him, aiming a punch at his jaw, which connected solidly. He stumbled back, a red mark blooming on his cheek. However, all you received in return was a smirk on his lips and the sight of him licking a drop of blood from his lip.

"That's not true," you replied, your voice stinging with anger. "They knew about my abilities, but no one feared me.”

You heard a laugh coming from him, lifting up his head, staring you down.

“Why do you keep lying to yourself?” He stepped closer, his breath almost brushing your face. “You knew they wanted to be rid of you from the moment you began showing signs. Master Sol? He distrusted you the most. Yord feared you. Jecki was too naive to form her own opinion and just listened to the elders.”

“Stop,” you failed to form a normal sentence, not knowing what to do or how to act. You were scared he was right. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

"Last night, when you attacked me, I took you before they could wake up," he confessed, gently brushing his hand over yours. You stared at his chest, too ashamed to meet his gaze. "What do you think will happen when they discover you used forbidden power? Do you believe they'll spare you when you're already hanging by a thread?”

He is right.

No.

He’s a liar. A murderer.

But he’s right.

"Kill me, and return to your naive trust in them," he urged, leaning closer with a mix of pity and understanding in his gaze. "Or stay here and let me help you."

You failed to notice that your hand was in his, unsure of how long he had been holding it. Your gaze remained fixed on his chest, searching for any hint of deceit or manipulation, but you found none. The weight of uncertainty bore down on you, and you wished to crumble, to disappear and never resurface again. Lost, confused, dizzy, you were paralyzed, uncertain of your next move.

“They’re my family.” You whispered, mostly to yourself.

"A real family wouldn’t betray you," he whispered back, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm. You felt the anger within you slowly melt away, replaced by an unfamiliar, strange sensation.

Raising your head slowly, you met his gaze, surprised by the softness you found in his eyes. Before you could gather your thoughts or resist, a waterfall of tears began pouring from your eyes, and the only arms there to catch you were the same ones that had stopped your heart just a few hours ago.

[bluekidchaos]

I don't need to know where we begin and end (I'd still know you)

there is so little haymitch smut so i made some myself :3 might write a similar fic to this but no smut only angst and fluff maybe..

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, nightmares, panic, unprotected sex, technically age gap but it's not mentioned, pet names (sweetheart and baby), no use of pronouns but female parts mentioned

Words: 841

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

You wake up with a scream, sweat dripping down your forehead as you pant. You feel arms holding you down and you trash in a panic trying to get loose, your ears are ringing and you look around the room frantically catching your breath and trying to reassure yourself that you are safe at home and not in the arena. 

Your eyes land on Haymitch, who is fully awake next to you, holding you in his arms and shushing you. His voice finally cuts through the ringing and you hear the panic in his own voice. 

"Sweetheart, you're safe, you're in district 12. Not in the arena." He's petting your hair and rocking you slowly. "I'm here with you, it's alright."

You turn in his arm and cling to him, sobbing into his chest and he holds you tight. The pressure of his arms around you grounds you as he keeps talking, telling you you are safe and he's there for you. 

When you had calmed down a bit more he asked what he could do to help you, always being so caring and gentle in moments like these. 

"Distract me, please?" You answered as you kissed him sweetly. He nodded and kissed you back, a bit more intensely.

Haymitch used his weight to position you on your back again with him leaning over you, still kissing you. One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip and pulling it down a bit. He used the opening to slip his tongue inside your mouth, letting it glide against your own. You moaned into his mouth and bucked your hips against his thigh. 

His lips traveled down your neck, sucking and nipping at all the right places, leaving little marks in his path. Neither of you bothered undressing properly, only pulling up your sleep shirt to expose your chest so he could wrap his lips around your nipples. 

Haymitch was only in a pair of pajama pants so your hand dragged down his stomach towards his cock. Nails scraped over the sensitive scars there before dipping below his waistband and wrapping around his hard member. He let out a groan at the feeling of your warm hand around him.

His own hand slipped down to pull your panties down, fingers dipping into your heat. Spreading your lips apart and smearing your wetness over your clit. Rubbing his finger gently in a circular motion and adding more pressure with every swipe. 

Your head drops to Haymitch's shoulder as you moan out at his movements, panting into the space between his neck and shoulder. You plant light kisses over his neck, "Please, fuck me Haymitch..." Words trailing off as his hand once again quickens its pace. 

He groaned at your desperate whines and nodded his head eagerly. 

He moves his hand to reach back to his bedside table to grab a condom but you stop him and lock eyes with him. He looks at you confused for a second. "I really wanna feel you, just wanna feel you, all of you." 

"Fuck, sweetheart, of course-" Haymitch moves the two of you so your leg is slung over his waist and positions himself at your entrance, looking back up at you for consent before pushing inside in one move and moaning at the feeling of you. "God, baby, you're gonna be the death of me." Planting more kisses all over your face as he starts to move. 

Your hands plant themself on him, one around his shoulder to claw at his back with every thrust that hits your sweet spot, and one tangled into his hair. You used the leg not around his waist to help push yourself up and down on him, following his pace. Lips alternating between messy kisses and planting hickeys on each other, any surface of skin you could reach in your current position got covered in bruises and bite marks. 

Haymitch's hands hold you close to him, groping you and grabbing at your plush hips and ass to get you even closer. One hand lands on your thigh to help you move with him and the other sneaks down to your clit. Rubbing circles over you that makes you see stars. 

The room was silent except for the sound of your breaths and quiet moans. 

Your eyes lock with his, silently telling each other you're close, your cunt clenching down on him hard while his hips stutter in their pace as he's pushing the last few times before you fall over the edge. Haymitch's orgasm is just behind. 

Lips attaching as he fucks you through your orgasms. Heavy breaths, high-pitched moans, and low growls carry through the room as you both calm down. 

None of you bothered to untangle your limbs, just staying in each other's arms and laying in the afterglow. Haymitch's arms hugged you close to him, his hand stroking your back lightly. "You feel any better, sweetheart?" 

You chuckled in his arms, planting a final kiss on his lips with a smile, "Much."

[amomentsescape]

Can you do slashers with there lover being neurodivergent (adhd, add, autistic) and how they would act around them?

Slashers with Neurodivergent! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I tried to not get too into specifics since I wanted this to be applicable to anyone on the neurodivergence spectrum. I hope you enjoy!

Freddy Krueger

Let's be honest, Freddy is a walking sensory nightmare

Loud, cackling voice

Rough, scarred skin

Constantly covered in the scent of blood and death

He's not exactly the most calm type of person to be around

However, he tries his best to be understanding for you (surprisingly)

He'll fill the room with your favorite scent

If things are too loud, he'll muffle the sound and replace it with your favorite song

And any time you need a break from your day-to-day life, he'll be there at night, helping you into his world

He knows what it's like to feel a little different, so he wants to try and make things as comfortable as possible for you

Michael Myers

If social interactions aren't your forte, you're in luck

The only "socializing" Michael wants to do involves stabbing, which he never forces you into

So the majority of your time is spent at home, doing whatever you want away from the loud sounds and bustling lives of other people

If you're more on the energetic side, then this might be a little tough for you

Michael isn't really known to be excitable

Or really having any desire of "fun"

But if you're bouncing off the walls enough, he'll eventually give in

Anything to get you to calm down

Just don't expect him to join in on any of the fun

He'll just stand there stiffly, watching you do whatever it is you wanted

Jason Voorhees

He loves everything about you and wouldn't change anything

Jason had also struggled with similar things as you, so he completely understands

Socializing isn't his thing, so he won't ever put you in those types of situations

But if you want to get out of the forest for a bit, he'll happily tag along as your protector

If certain textures or visuals trigger you, he's throwing them out the window (literally)

And he's also really good at picking up on your bodily cues when words fail you

He understands you a lot better than others have in the past, and he always makes it a point to learn as much as he can about you

He doesn't see you as anything different, he just sees you

Thomas Hewitt

He grew up dealing with his own triggers and being confused why certain things bothered him more than the rest of his family

So meeting you has honestly helped him learn more about himself

Once you sit down and explain everything to him, something in him just clicks

He honestly sees it as destiny now

You're just like him; you two were made for each other

And because of his own personal experiences, he's able to understand and listen to you very easily

If anything is upsetting or triggering you, he's quick to help you immediately

Will drop everything the moment you show the slightest discomfort

And if anything is ever bothering him, you're the first and only person he'll go to

You understand him better than anyone in his family ever did

Bubba Sawyer

He honestly has no idea what's going on until his mother explains it to him a little better

After that, all you have to do is give him a certain look, and he immediately knows

He'll quiet down right away when he can tell he's being too loud

And if he's overstimulating you with his giant hugs and smothering kisses, he'll quickly pull back and sit stiffly next to you

He has a decent understanding of what triggers you, he just has a hard time with thinking about his actions beforehand

He's just used to being so impulsive all the time

So it's going to take a while for him to get used to everything, but he'll happily do it for you

He doesn't think any differently of you either

This is just you, and he wants to be your biggest supporter

Brahms Heelshire

He can tell things are a little different with you compared to the "nannies" he's had in the past

It's harder for you to stay on track, your mind bouncing from one thing to the next despite the list in front of you

And you always seem to keep the music quieter around the house, the kitchen a bit tidier than necessary, and the lights turned low most of the day

He doesn't ever end up questioning you about it

He really has no reason to feel any certain way about how you act

You take care of him and the home better than anyone else in the past

And he can tell your curiosity of the large manor and the differing peace and quiet you're receiving here is putting you in a state of ease

Which is good, since this is your new home

Norman Bates

Norman grew up feeling a little different from other people too

And it's not just because he's a murderer

He likes to do things a certain way, and you're just about the only one he trusts to do them too

He doesn't like being in larger gatherings or loud areas, so he won't ever force you into those

And as someone with a short social battery, he can almost immediately tell when yours is drained

The moment he sees the tilt of your head or your drooping eyes, he's throwing you into bed with a warm blanket, a mug of tea, and your favorite book

And if you're ever struggling to focus or silence the thoughts booming around in your head, he'll sit beside you and read to you

Somehow, his voice always manages to replace the ones yelling at you in your mind

He's basically "calm" in human form

Billy Loomis

He's not the most empathetic with everything since he doesn't fully understand what you're going through

But he knows certain things bother you, and he gets incredibly uncomfortable if you're also uncomfortable

Thankfully, he's not big into crazy social situations or loud areas

He prefers the peace and quiet most of the time

And he's clean too, always washing up right after one of his "excursions"

And although not the most sympathetic, he's observant

If a certain situation made you uncomfortable, he won't put you in it ever again

If someone said something rude about you acting "differently," they'll be dead before the next morning

He's protective over you

Stu Macher

You can't convince me that Stu isn't also neurodivergent

His whole personality screams ADHD

So if you struggle with maintaining attention on something or becoming easily hyper-fixated, Stu is probably going to make this much worse for you

He can't help it, because he has a pretty good understanding of you

However, if certain sensory experiences are tough for you, he'll do his best to calm himself down

He wants to be your security blanket, not a trigger

So if he has to talk more softly, move more slowly, and just relax at home with you instead of going to some crazy party, he will

A casual movie night at home is just fine for him, it doesn't even have to be scary!

Your company is honestly the most important thing to him

Vincent Sinclair

He can relate to you in more ways than one, and he's grown to learn more about what to do whenever things get tough

He's accumulated and made his own sensory blankets and fidget toys which he happily shares with you

He also has his own tips for whenever you have trouble focusing or keeping your thoughts at bay

And if there's anything that differs between you two, he'll gladly take a seat and listen to your perspective with how you feel

Having a brother like Bo has made him feel incredibly reclusive growing up

You're the first person to make him feel like he isn't alone

So whatever he can do to show you some normalcy, he's going to do

No matter the cost

Bo Sinclair

He knows the traits of Vincent all too well to not notice the similarities in you

Which is a bit of a shame considering him and his brother are almost polar opposites of each other

Bo wants to be in the spotlight, socializing and causing a ruckus in any late night establishment he can find

He likes excitement, unpredictability, and chaos

His idea of relaxing is your idea of Hell, unfortunately

There are thankfully days that Bo would rather just hang on the couch with a beer in hand by your side

But these days aren't super common

And he unfortunately has trouble sympathizing with you whenever you feel overwhelmed or upset by something

He tries, and he may even talk to Vincent a bit if he's desperate

As long as you don't prevent him from going out and acting however he pleases, he won't have a problem with your differences

[nameless-jamie]

AAAAA I ABSOLUTELY LOVED NICE GUY! I'M OBSESSED WITH JEALOUS JAMIE!!! Can you write one where PA's old client (or some new footballer whatever you prefer) tries to steal her and he and Jamie have it out on the pitch during a match? I'd love if the team teased him after since "he's not a jealous type" and PA tells him she wouldn't leave him to calm him? Thanksssss!

Red Card Part 2

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Jamie

A/N: Hi, I'm so glad you liked A Nice Guy. You're idea fits so well with a ff I posted yesterday called Red Cards, about an angry Y/N, so I basically was obsessed with the idea of making this part two (They both finally realize they are in love with each other) It doesn't really fit with the OG Ted Lasso timeline but idc. I wrote this all through the night (in my timezone lol) hope you like it!!!!

Y/N had worked with a few big names before Jamie Tartt.

She’d been in this business long enough to handle all kinds of footballers—prima donnas, workaholics, egomaniacs. Some had been a nightmare to deal with. Some had been decent, if a little demanding. And then there was Jamie, who was all of the above and yet still her favorite.

He could be a pain in the ass, sure—stubborn, dramatic, ridiculously high-maintenance—but he was also loyal, hilarious in the most unintentional ways, and, despite all his posturing, genuinely cared about the people close to him.

So yeah, she’d had other clients before him. But there was no one like Jamie.

And she sure as hell wasn’t planning on working for anyone else ever again.

Apparently, Declan Rice, a former client of hers hadn’t gotten that memo.

They’d worked together briefly during his last season at West Ham, before he transferred to Arsenal. He’d been an alright client—organized, professional, a little too flirty at times but never crossed the line. It had been strictly business.

She hadn’t thought much about him since.

Until now.

She spotted him during warm-ups at Arsenal’s home stadium, the Emirates, standing near the center circle with his teammates, rolling his shoulders and stretching before the match. He looked the same as he had when she’d worked for him—tall, confident, the picture of professionalism with his neatly styled hair and focused expression. But when his eyes landed on her, something sharp flickered in them, and he abandoned his warm-up, striding over toward the Richmond dugout where she stood with Ted, Roy, and Beard.

Jamie was further down the touchline, stretching with the rest of the Richmond squad, blissfully unaware.

Declan stopped beside her, giving her a slow once-over, an easy smirk curling his lips. “Hi Y/N, you still working for Tartt, then?”

Y/N crossed her arms, instantly on guard. “That a problem, Declan?”

He hummed. “Not a problem. Just surprised.” He gestured toward the Richmond crest on her jacket. “Thought someone like you would’ve moved on to bigger things by now.”

Ted let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. “Oof. Boy’s got a death wish.”

Beard just grunted while Roy muttered something profane under his breath that sounded like 'Fucking idiot'.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Declan didn’t seem fazed by her sharp tone. If anything, his smirk deepened. “Fair enough. But if you ever do wanna make a change and maybe work for a good player…” He winked. “You know where to find me.”

That was when Jamie’s head snapped up.

He hadn’t been paying much attention before, too focused on his own pre-game rituals, but the moment Declan winked, Jamie’s entire body went rigid. His gaze flickered between them, jaw tightening, his usually relaxed expression darkening into something unreadable.

Roy smirked. “Havin’ fun over there, Tartt?”

Jamie scowled. “Piss off, Roy.”

Ted just chuckled a little uneasy.

Jamie shot Declan a glare but said nothing, turning abruptly and jogging onto the pitch.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is gonna be a long match.”

From the very first whistle, Jamie was not himself.

Jamie tried to be professional.

He really, really did.

Normally, he played with fluid confidence, always a step ahead, making quick, clever passes and effortlessly weaving through defenders. But tonight? He was aggressive.

Every movement was sharp, every tackle a fraction too hard, every sprint laced with frustration. And the reason why was obvious.

Declan was everywhere.

Shoving him during corners. Smirking when he won possession. Blocking his runs just enough to be irritating but not enough to get penalized. And worst of all—glancing toward the sidelines where Y/N stood every chance he fucking got, as if reminding Jamie exactly who had his attention before the game started.

Jamie gritted his teeth, jaw aching from how hard he was clenching it. Fine. If Declan wanted to play dirty, Jamie wouldn’t hold back.

He slammed into him harder than necessary while fighting for the ball, sending Declan stumbling.

The ref blew his whistle immediately.

“Tartt, easy!” the ref warned.

Jamie didn’t respond. He just glared at Declan, stepping in close enough that their shoulders brushed.

Declan smirked, voice low. “Touchy, mate.”

Jamie glared at Declan. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

Declan smirked. “Didn’t know you owned her, mate.”

Jamie shoved him.

The ref immediately pulled out a yellow card.

Roy was already shouting from the sidelines. “Fucking hell, Jamie!”

Ted sighed. “Yeah, saw that one coming.”

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Jamie knew he had to keep his cool. One more reckless move, and he’d be off. But then—Declan took it too far.

It happened in the 78th minute.

Richmond was down 2-1. They had a free kick just outside the box, a perfect opportunity to equalize. Jamie stepped up to take it, rolling his shoulders, focusing. He needed to block everything else out.

“Dunno what she sees in you, mate. Could give her a better offer, yeah?" Declan tried to rile Jamie up.

Jamie was good at ignoring his antics... at first.

And then—just as he was about to position himself—Declan leaned in, voice just loud enough for Jamie to hear:

"You know, she was the best assistant I ever had. Kept me real satisfied.”

Jamie’s blood froze.

Declan smirked. “Might have to steal her back. Think I’d enjoy breaking her in all over again.”

Jamie snapped.

There was no thought. No hesitation. Just pure, burning rage.

He swung his leg—not at the ball, but at Declan’s ankle.

Declan went crashing down, clutching his leg, rolling like he’d been shot.

The whistle shrieked.

The ref stormed over, fury in his eyes.

“TARTT—OFF!”

The red card flashed in the air.

The Richmond fans groaned in unison.

Jamie barely registered it, still seeing red. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving, his entire body wound so tight it felt like he might explode.

Declan, still on the ground, looked up at him with a satisfied smirk, while another Arsenal player pushed Jamie towards the exit saying “Real mature, mate.”.

Jamie didn’t even care, he didn’t even argue. Just shot Declan a venomous glare as he stomped off.

The moment Jamie reached the sidelines, Roy exploded.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Ted sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Beard just shook his head.

Y/N stood there, arms crossed. “Seriously, Jamie?”

Jamie exhaled sharply. “He was chatin’ shit.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And that was worth getting sent off for?”

Jamie scowled. “Maybe.”

Her expression softened slightly. “What did he even say?”

Jamie hesitated. His fingers twitched at his sides. “Nothin’.”

She knew that wasn’t true. But she also knew Jamie, knew that whatever Declan had said had gotten under his skin badly.

Y/N exhaled. “We were losing. We needed you.”

Jamie hesitated. “Yeah, but—”

“No buts,” she shot back. “You let him get in your head.”

Jamie scowled. “Did not.”

Y/N just looked at him.

Later, when the match was over and the team was back in the locker room, the teasing began.

Richmond still managed to equalize in the final minutes, saving the match.

But Jamie’s red card? That was all the team wanted to talk about.

“Not jealous, huh Jamie?” Sam grinned.

“Proper alpha male moment,” Isaac added.

Colin smirked. “Never seen you so territorial, mate.”

Jamie groaned. “Piss off.”

Ted just patted his shoulder. “Jealousy’s a hell of a drug, son.”

Jamie grumbled under his breath before heading toward the physio room, where Y/N was waiting.

She turned when he entered, arms crossed. “You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Jamie sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

Y/N softened. “Why’d you let him get to you?”

Jamie hesitated. “…Dunno.”

She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Jamie.”

He exhaled. “Just—don’t like the idea of someone takin’ you away, yeah?”

Y/N blinked.

Then—softly, with a teasing smile she said. “You do realize I’m not a football transfer, right?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

She smirked. “So you don’t own me?”

Jamie groaned. “Fucking hell.”

Y/N laughed. “Fuck, you really are an idiot.”

Jamie leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot boss, so watch out.”

She flushed. “Shut up.”

He smirked. “Make me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish... Still not jealous, though?”

Jamie groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, now I hate you.”

She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jamie just pulled her closer into a tight hug.

Maybe he was the jealous type.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind, because he loves her...

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Comfort

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: three instances of Bucky associating someone stroking his hair with comfort.

Warnings: fluff and angst, mentions of illness, period-accurate toxic masculinity, mentions of nightmares, no y/n used, only pronoun used is "you"

A/N: this is based on something I wrote for my self indulgent self-insert OC Juniper, where Bucky tells them the story of the first two memories and then decided I wanted to also do an x Reader with a similar idea.

-------------------------------------------------------

1930

One time, when Bucky was young, he was hit with an awful bout of illness. He felt like there was a hundred pound weight on his chest, and he couldn’t stop coughing. Steve kept trying to sneak in to go see his friend, but would be shooed away before he could actually see his friend. Rebecca, Bucky’s little sister, would slip notes from her and Steve under his door as often as she could, trying to remind him he wasn’t alone. One night, when his sickness got real bad, his mother came in to sit up with him. Since it was the Depression, she would be up pretty much every night working on sewing alterations until her fingers cramped and bled. But tonight, she was staying with her Baby Boy. She rubs Vick’s on his chest in hopes of soothing the cough, and sits by his bedside. When Bucky’s coughing gets so bad that he can’t fall asleep, she sits on the mattress next to him, running their fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. She saw how much it soothed him, and from then on whenever he was sick she would stay with him, running her fingers through her son’s hair to calm him. 

1942

Bucky was an adult now, dressed in a soldier’s uniform and trying to pretend he was proud of that. He’d just gotten home from the Stark Expo, and found that his mother and sister had stayed up to wait for him. Rebecca hugs her brother goodbye before heading to bed, but Bucky and Winnefred stay up late talking. During the conversation everything hits him at once. He’d spent the entire day forcing a smile and pretending to be brave, being strong in front of his date, of Steve, of anyone who saw him and saw a young man ready to take on the world and fight for his country. 

When in reality?

 He’s been terrified ever since he learned he was drafted. 

He broke down in front of his mother, telling her that he’s not ready, that he’s scared, and that he hates that he’s scared. That he’s a coward. But his mother shakes her head, and hugs her son tight. She doesn’t tell him to “man up” or that he needs to “get ahold of himself”, just held him and assured him that it’s okay, that he’s not a coward, that he’s not weak for being afraid. She took him back to his bedroom, getting him settled under the covers and sitting at his bedside, stroking his hair the same way she did when he was young. 

“Rest now, James,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “you don’t have to be strong tonight…” 

Now

Bucky woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. He tried to take deep breaths, to calm himself down, but the nightmares that had forced him awake still ravaged his subconscious. 

“Bucky?” He whipped around to see you, eyes tired but still filled with concern, “are you alright, Baby?” 

“Yeah,” he gasped out, running a hand through his hair, “yeah, yeah, I'm…I-I’m…” 

“Oh,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his back, “oh Sweetheart…” 

You hugged him close, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Can you feel my breath?” You asked, running your fingers along his stomach. Bucky nodded, “good, Buck. Can you follow my breathing?” 

He matched your breaths as best he can, and you held him until he calmed down. Once his breathing evened out, you pressed another kiss to the crook of his neck and smiled softly. 

“What do you need to feel better, Sweet Boy?” You asked, “what do you need to go back to sleep?” 

Bucky chewed his lip for a moment, trying to decide. His mind drifted to his youth, to his mother carding her fingers through his hair and the feeling of serenity it brought him. 

“M-my hair,” he murmured. You looked confused, “will you stroke my hair for a bit?” 

He didn't give you a chance to respond. 

“Sorry,” Bucky's blue eyes wouldn't meet theirs, “that sounds stupid, but my Ma used to do it when I was younger but–” 

“Shhhh,” you slid in front of him, “it's not stupid. Of course I'll stroke your hair.” 

His blue eyes met yours, relief flooding his gaze. 

“Lay back down, Sweetheart,” he settled himself on top of you, laying his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. You cradled his head against your body, running your fingers through his dark hair. His eyes were already starting to feel heavy, and he nuzzled into your neck, a little hum escaping him.

“Get some rest, Bucky,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he started to give in to sleep, “I love you.” 

The same feeling of serenity overtook him, and Bucky drifted off in his partner's arms.

[euhla]

THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO LOVE AVENTURINE !

✧ ◝ summary the important steps to love aventurine, 100% approved by aventurine. (or the things you do that he love)

✧ ◝ fluff / hurt/comfort / light angst / hsr spoilers (aventurine’s past) / mentions of aventurine’s real name (kakavasha) / reverse comfort / gn!reader / some personal hcs / trauma / lmk if i miss some !

Alright so, i noticed that Aven always hides his left hand, and when he puts his hands together to pray, he also uses his left hand. So i assumed that his left hand was verrryyyyy special to him.

While in the Dreamscape, he also said that he always hid one hand (left hand) under the gambling table, and that hand always gripped the chips as tightly as possible (based on his dialogue during the quest).

So imagine— you, who have a special place somewhere in his heart, always hold his left hand carefully, then caress it. He would go feral fr.

He would joke about it by saying, “if you keep doing that, i’m afraid that my left hand will always bring big luck.”

And every time he wakes up from the same nightmare that always haunts him, he will always look for warmth in you; wants you to hold his hand and then hear your voice that always manages to calm him down to call his name—or even his real name.

Aven is very happy when you let him do small things or simple tasks, such as combing, braiding your hair, or putting on the beautiful jewelry he gave you. And from just one glance, you know how expensive the jewelry is. And he will happily buy you new jewelry again and again.

Aven love the moment when he set foot back home. Because usually, he will see you wearing his shirt— which faintly smells of his fragrance, while you curled up in his king sized bed and asleep while you are waiting for him to come home.

And at that moment, he was ready with his phone to take a photo of you which he thought was adorable.

He love when you’re cooking breakfast for the two of you. Because he can easily surprised you by suddenly hug you from behind, then buried his head on the crook of your neck.

Also, he’s the big spoon! He will always cuddle with you while sleeping and it’s a must. He won't sleep until he makes sure that you are asleep first. Either because he's afraid you'll suddenly leave while he's asleep, or because he just wants to observe every part of you. And to hear your every breath so he knows you are still with him, and to see your face so he can fall in love with you again and again.

Aventurine groaned. He squirmed a little, seeking comfort in the nightmare he saw. As if he couldn't wake up from the nightmare, his eyes refused to open, making himself a little tormented by his past which is again approaching him through his dream.

The past replays itself like a film. A film that he is reluctant to watch again. But the film was played again without his permission.

‘… kakavasha.’ The name that almost everyone forgot was called after long time. Aventurine looked back, seeing a glimmer of light amidst the darkness.

When he squinted his eyes to clearly see the blurry object in the middle of the light, he saw a familiar figure that he had longed to see. She called out his real name once again in despair. ‘Kakavasha..’

But when she called his name one last time, Aventurine could glimpse a small smile on the figure's face. She’s smiling, my sister is smiling at me.

And once the light slowly disappeared, Aventurine woke up. Pulled back to the real world where he belongs. Feeling his head dizzy, Aventurine held his head. At the same time, he was trying to regain consciousness after waking up from a dream.

That's when he realized; tears that seemed to have been coming out of his eyes for a long time, and you were looking at him worriedly. Your one hand is holding his left hand—the hand he considers special. It all felt like a fever dream for Aventurine.

“Kakavasha?” Your voice called his name in worry. This time it's no longer the voice of the familiar figure or his sister, the one calling his name is now you— the person he loves and he treasured the most. Someone who has accompanied him, and always makes sure that he is okay. Someone who always waits for him to come home. It’s you.

Your other hand moved to wipe the tears that had fallen. Your warm hand touched the cold skin of Aventurine. One of the differences between the two of you.

“Don’t cry,” The voice tried to calm him down again. Countless time you’ve been calmed “Everything is okay now.”

Aventurine didn't know how to react. He just kept quiet.

Without thinking, you immediately hugged his body that had felt a lot of suffering. You hugged that fragile body. As he usually did, he returned the hug. His head was buried in your neck. He always manages to find warmth in you. “I’m here, Aven.”

How could he not love you again and again after everything you've done?

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Don’t take my sunshine away.

Part 4

Warning ⚠️; Blood, murder, mental breakdown

Pairing; Bruce Wayne/Male Reader

Summary; Ra’s al Ghul is in Gotham, escaping Batman, Nightwing and Robin only to face you and you have to face the ugly truth when you realize someone stole Jason’s body.

~~~~~~~~~~~

To say you hated Ra’s al Ghul and his league would be a euphemism. Bruce was still marked by his time among them, his flesh still covered in scars and his sleep with nightmares. Not only that but Ra’s had more than once been a pain in your ass. He and his daughter, both were on your list of most hated people.

Thankfully, Bruce always knew how to reassure you and make you safe when they were around. After all, Thalia was his ex from before Bruce and you fell in love and she always was flirting with him. You trusted Bruce and knew he was faithful no matter his past, but Thalia easily got on your nerves by going after your husband.

And that week you could only remember your hate and disgust of them as Ra’s was spotted with his assassins. Dick came to help the second he heard the news. Every night, Bruce went out with the boys trying to find and catch him. The thought of Tim facing a master assassin filled you with dread and fear. What if you were to lose another son?

No.

Bruce would never let something like that happen again. He wouldn't let Tim get hurt. After losing Jason and almost you and Tim, Bruce had changed. He still was against killing but had become more reckless, marking the worst kind of criminal with his sigil. They would often die in jail.

It had deepened the rift between Bruce and Clark, leading to many disagreements and altercations between the two heroes. You had always stood by Bruce, telling him he was doing the right thing.

And now you could only wonder if it was the reason behind Ra’s presence in the city.

That morning when the boys came back from patrol, you could see on their faces that Ra’s had once more escaped their grasp. You welcomed them back with open arms and the first aid kit ready. Thankfully only Bruce needed some care, the boys were fine but upset and you understood them.

Once they were tucked into bed and you were alone with Bruce in yours, your husband broke down. You held him in your arms as he held you for dear life. You whispered sweet words in his ear, caressing his hair and kissing his face. You were careful around his injuries and bruises, not wanting to cause more pain. Once Bruce had calmed down, he stayed in your embrace as he explained himself.

Ra’s didn't target him that night, instead, he went after Tim and Dick. Bruce was still shaking up, body shaking as the adrenaline slowly disappeared and the reality hit him. You held your husband tighter.

- “But nothing happened to them, Bruce. They don't have a single scratch on them, you protected them from Ra’s. You are a good dad.” You told him, your voice barely a whisper as you dried his cheeks. “Do you hear me? You are a good dad and you kept our kids safe and I know you will always bring them back home.”

Bruce had smiled weakly, thanking you. You two cuddled more and you admired him under the morning light. So many scars and bruises and you knew each of them by heart. You could even name what or who caused them.

You stayed awake, watching over Bruce as he slept in your arms. His head rested on your chest as he listened to your heartbeat before falling asleep. You kept brushing his hair with your fingers, making sure no nightmare disturbed him.

Of course, nothing could stay calm forever.

The following night, you couldn't sleep at all. Bruce’s story kept replaying in your head and how everything could have gone wrong. You also wondered why Ra’s had targeted the kids. It wasn't in his nature to go for the weakest, so why did he?

You sat in the living room, facing the cheminee as you drank some tea while thinking about everything when you heard the floor cracking. You immediately knew it wasn't Alfred, the butler would have announced himself sooner and Bruce definitely was still out.

You froze in fear as you heard Ra’s voice filling the room.

- “Looks like Bruce left you alone, defenceless… at my mercy.”

- “I am anything but defenceless, Ra’s.” You spat back as you slowly got up before turning around to face the assassin.

Ra’s stood tall wrapped in greenish clothes. Your eyes immediately found his sword and you felt fear slowly crawl inside your heart. Bruce had taught you how to defend yourself and you knew how to use a gun, but against Ra’s? You stood no chance of getting out alive.

Your only comfort was that Bruce would avenge you and soon you would be reunited with Jason.

- “What do you want?” You asked, voice colder than ice. “Why did you try to hurt my kids?”

- “So many questions and yet none are the right ones.” Ra’s mocked Ashe approached you. You moved, keeping a safe distance from him, making the other man smile. “Bruce taught you well.”

- “Just like he taught our sons. You won't get away with killing me, Ra’s. If Bruce doesn't avenge me, I know my children will.”

It only made Ra’s chuckles as he shook his head. You two walked around the room, still facing each other. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, hoping it wouldn't be an agonizing death.

- “I see where Jason got it all, not from Bruce, but you. He really is his papa’s son.” Ra’s said almost mockingly.

His words enraged you. Not only was the fucker talking as if Jason was still alive, but also as if he knew your son. Never would Jason stay around people like Ra, if he was alive you knew he would come back to you and Bruce.

So how dare he speak of Jason? How dare he act as if your son was still alive?

- “Shut up! You speak as if you knew my son as if he was still alive. He is dead so keep his name out of your filthy mouth!” You snapped.

- “Are you sure about it?” Ra’s asked, smirking.

It was too much for you.

The disrespect, the mockery and the cruelty of his words made you see red. You didn't think twice and raced toward Ra’s. The man was too surprised by your reaction and you were able to land a punch.

You two fell on the ground, thrashing around and trying to dominate the other. You bit and scratched Ra’s when he had you pinned down. The snake got a few punches on you as well and you felt your mouth filling with blood.

You had managed to throw away his sword and it got stuck under the sofa. Ra’s hands grabbed your neck and you managed to hit him in the balls with your knees. No matter the pain, Ra’s didn't let go and you began running out of air. Lungs burning, you felt your sight get blurry as the assassin was about tonl break your neck. You closed your eyes, awaiting death.

To your biggest shame, you screamed when you heard a gunshot and warm blood splattered all over your face. You fell on the ground with Ra’s in a loud thud, gasping for air as you crawled away. Two strong hands grasped your shoulders and you tensed until you heard Alfred’s voice.

- “Master (Y/N), thank God you are fine. Here, let me help you.” The soft voice of Alfred was enough to calm your nerves as he cleaned your face from the blood. “Why didn't you call for me? Ah! You two are really made for each other, aren't you!”

- “Alfred? Alfred! W-what happened? Ra’s al Ghul, he…” you tried to speak, but your throat hurt like hell.

- “Dead. Thankfully I didn't touch you when I shot his head, but what a mess I made. It will take me hours before getting all that blood off the floor.”

You opened your eyes and looked around. You quickly found Ra’s body lying on the floor in a poodle of blood, half his head missing. Heart racing in your chest, you shivered at the thought of what would have happened if Alfred hadn't shown up.

- “Alfred, you need to…” You began, voice shaking as the butler helped you up before sitting you on the sofa.

- “Already done. Master Bruce and the children are coming back and I have already told the police about the break-in.”

You nodded feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders. You kept your eyes on Ra’s body as if he was going to come back to life. His words kept repeating in your head, filling you with doubt.

Before long Bruce and the boys were back and you melted in your husband’s arms as he held you tightly just like Tim. Dick covered Ra’s corpse, making sure you couldn't see it anymore. He stayed behind you, a silent support once the police arrived.

Gordon was at lost for words and you couldn't explain to him the full story. You stayed on the story of the break-in and that you didn't know him, and could not understand why that man tried to kill you. Thankfully Gordon didn't suspect anything and believed you. After all, Gotham was a hellhole so such things weren't out of the ordinary.

But once the police were gone with Ra’s body, you explained the whole story to your family. You kept quiet about how you had accepted your demise and emphasized how Ra’s said Jason was still alive even tho it was impossible.

Just like you, Bruce and Dick were outraged at the thought, denying the possibility. Only Tim believed it. There were so many weird things they saw and fought about, could it really be impossible for Ra’s to have brought Jason back to life?

The idea that that assassin had played Frankenstein with your son terrified you and you almost threw up on the spot. Bruce chastised Tim, but Dick got on his side.

What if…

What if…

The simple possibility was enough for you to need confirmation that Jason was still resting in peace. With the three of you against him, Bruce had no other choice but to agree to dig up Jason’s tomb. It was disgusting, horrible and needed.

You were all silent as you went to Jason’s last resting place carrying each a shovel. It didn't take you long before his coffin was in sight. You almost had a panic attack and it only thanks to Bruce and Tim if you didn't. They held you as Dick opened the coffin and froze before looking at you.

- “It's empty. Its.…” Dick said, voice shaking as you gasped for air. “Jason…”

- “Dick, stop it!” Bruce snapped and got up, walking toward the opened grave. “That unnecessary cruel and…”

You felt your heart drop as you saw Bruce froze and just knew. You got up on shaking legs and ran up to see. Bruce grabbed you, trying to stop you, but you said it. The coffin was dirty and, worse, completely empty. You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks.

- “Where is he? Where is my son?” You screamed, fingers digging in Bruce’s arms as your own body protested in pain. “Who took? Where is my baby?”

- “Easy my love, easy. We are going to find the truth, we are going to find Jason okay? Please calm down my love.” Bruce whispered in your neck as he held you tightly.

You collapsed in Bruce's arms, crying and clinging to him. The boys were talking but you understood nothing. Only your husband's sweet voice reached you even tho you couldn't calm down. The thought that someone had stolen Jason’s body horrified you and you wondered why. Why steal him? Why not let him rest in peace?

But Bruce’s promises were enough to comfort you and you knew your husband would do everything and anything to find back your son. Whoever did it was in for a beating, because such a crime wouldn't be left unpunished.

[emily--prentiss]

Peace

Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Aaron providing reader comfort after a tough case)

contains: no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, general cm themes, I think that’s all? (please let me know if I missed anything!)

a/n: hi! I’m certain something along these lines has been done before so sorry in advance for that! it’s been a long, long time since I last wrote anything so I may be a bit rusty. also the first time I’ve written for hotch, and the first time I’ve posted any of my writing on here so I’m slightly nervous! regardless, enjoy! <3

word count: 1.56k

You’re quiet on the drive home.

That in itself is a cause for concern. You’re a talker by nature. On any given night, regardless of how heavy your eyes may feel after poring over a mountain of paperwork and staring at a computer screen for the entirety of the day, or how emotionally exhausted you may be after yet another gruelling case, you’re constantly full of chatter. It’s endearing. Or, at least Aaron thinks it is. Such a stark contrast to his own mannerisms; you’re the rambler, he’s the listener.

Though he may also be weary from whatever work he has endured through any given day, he loves to listen to you talk. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he drives, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. You gesture wildly with your hands, stop midstream every once in a while to take a sharp intake of breath before carrying on with your train of thought, eyes alight with passion, no matter how mundane the topic of conversation may be. He’ll hum his assent every once in a while, nod along to show he’s paying attention, but otherwise he’s happy to let you chatter away, simply grateful for your company.

Tonight is different, though.

Tonight you’ve not said a word since the pair of you left the office, and it’s worrying him.

The most recent case had been taxing. Perhaps more so than normal. Any case that involves children seems to hit the team hard, but this one was far worse. The violent nature in which the UnSub tore apart his victims was harrowing, nightmare inducing, and would stay with all of you for a long time.

Hotch had been tempted to send everyone home as soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, but hadn’t. Despite his quiet, reserved love of and care for his team and their health, he knew that the paperwork following a case was vital and time consuming, and he’d rather they got it over with so everyone could go into the weekend with clear heads, and wouldn’t be expected to rehash all the gory details come Monday morning. So they’d stayed, and they’d worked, and they’d filtered out at 5 o’clock, a weary chorus of hushed goodbyes lying in their wake.

The bullpen was empty by the time Aaron had ushered you out to the car. Your legs had felt heavy, your heart heavier still, and had it not been for his grounding touch on the small of your back, you’re certain you would’ve dropped to your knees and let out the most blood curdling of screams. Once in the car, he’d helped you buckle your seatbelt before climbing into the drivers seat and heading for home. The radio was switched on, at a low volume, and provided a calming soundtrack for the drive.

He wanted to speak to you, wanted to hear your voice in return. But he remained silent, his gaze flickering towards you every so often, his hands aching to reach out and touch you. You, for the majority of the journey, lay your head on the window and kept a steady gaze on the passing scenery.

Aaron was out of the car first once he’d pulled into the driveway and parked the car. You hadn’t even registered his departure until he was carefully prying your door open so as not to startle you. You looked to him with a furrowed brow, the concerned look on his face almost breaking you.

“We’re home, honey.”

You’ve no recollection of walking into the house, let alone the upstairs bathroom. But when you seem to come to your senses, you find yourself sat on the closed lid of the toilet, wringing your hands together, teeth biting at your lower lip. Aaron is leaning over the bath, the fingers of one hand trailing through the water to check the temperature, the scent of your favourite bubble bath surrounding you.

When he turns, you almost crumble. He gives you the sweetest smile, all dimples. The stoic facade he adopts when in the company of others shatters when it’s just the two of you. He’s softer. He handles you like glass, as if you could quite easily shatter. It should annoy you, really, but it doesn’t. Because it’s Aaron, and you know it’s merely his way of showing you how much he loves you.

He knows you’re strong, capable of anything - these are things he regularly reminds you of. But he’s also the first to remind you that you’re allowed to be vulnerable, to lean on others, on him, when you need to. It doesn’t make you weak - it makes you human.

His footsteps echo as he walks towards you. The crack of his knees as he crouches by your feet would make you laugh on any other occasion, would have you mocking him and making jokes about how old he’s getting. But not tonight. You don’t have it in you to speak right now, let alone tease him.

Lifting his hand to your face, he pulls your lip from between your teeth. With a calloused thumb, he rubs across the cracked skin, wiping up a drop of blood as he goes. He’d usually scold you for it, but he stays quiet. Your cheek is swallowed by the entirety of his palm, and you lean into the warmth and comfort his touch always provides.

There’s a familiarity in his actions, as he rises to his feet and starts to help you out of your clothes, that makes your heartache. The way in which he takes charge is so reminiscent of Hotch - the leader, the boss, the grump. But there’s a softness to him, too. The way he waits for your nod before you unhooks your bra and pulls the straps down your arms, the way his touch lingers on your skin, the way he presses loving kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, the palm of your hand.

That gentleness is only for you.

That side of him is purely your Aaron.

Once your clothes are shed and tossed into the laundry hamper, he takes your hand and steadies you as you settle into the heat of the bath water. A stifled gasp sneaks past your lips, and he’s about to apologise for the temperature. But then you sink down, relax into it, and the apology dies on his tongue.

You’re certain he’ll leave now. He’s so in tune with your emotions that he’s confident you’ll want some privacy, a moment to yourself. You prove him wrong when you grasp at his fingers, your eyes filled with a silent plea.

Stay.

So he does.

He settles himself on the edge of the bath, strong, calloused fingers inching through your hair, scraping at your scalp. Your eyes flutter closed and you once again relax into his touch. You truly can’t remember the last time you felt love like this, so completely safe with another person, your heart fit to burst. And you want to tell him. Want to thank him, to whisper how much you love him as though it’s a secret for just the two of you. But your throat is hoarse from holding back tears, so you’ll figure you’ll tell him later.

You have time.

Aaron is diligent as he helps you through your routine. He washes your hair, warns you to close your eyes as he rinses the shampoo out, watches as it collects around you in the water. His fingers feel wonderful on your scalp as he massages in your conditioner, and again as he washes it away. He’s careful not to be too rough as he takes a wash cloth to your face and your body. And when he presses a kiss to your lips once you’re clean, his heart swells at the smile you give him.

It’s only a small thing. If he’d have blinked, he’d have missed it. But it’s the first smile he’s seen on your face in days, and he finds himself basking in it, brain in overdrive as he thinks of ways to draw more from you.

You feel more human after your bath, more steady. So, as you stand at the counter, wrapped up in a towel that swallows your small body, and brush your teeth, he dips out of the room for a moment. When he returns a minute later, it’s with a change of clothes in each hand. Underwear for the both of you, as well as a couple of t-shirts (both his, you notice quickly, and once again you’re overcome with love for the man that knows you so completely that he knows you’d want to be entirely surrounded by him tonight).

The plug is pulled from the bath, lights are switched off, and you’re both crawling into your own bed once you’re dressed. It’s only when you’ve been away for a while that you come to appreciate the small comforts your home provides - the mattress that is perfectly molded to your shape, the softness of your own pillow, the silk of the sheets on your bare legs.

And it’s when Aaron collects you in his arms, brings your head to rest on his chest, your fingers tangling in his shirt, a mumbled ‘I love you’ pressed into your hair, do you feel something you haven’t felt in days.

Peace.