hey babe. love you, first and foremost. second, because you and i share a braincell and our biggest kink (being cared for without having to ask for it), this is for you:
you don’t remember deciding to sit down. one moment you were standing in vander’s kitchen, staring into the steam curling from your coffee, and the next you were on the couch, knees drawn up, breath tight in your chest like it might not come back.
he doesn’t ask what happened. doesn’t ask what you need.
he just leans down and kisses the crown of your head. “i’ll be right back,” he murmurs.
you hear the water start running. the low groan of old pipes. the rustle of towels. you close your eyes, just for a moment.
when you open them again, vander’s crouching in front of you, hands warm on your knees. “bath’s ready,” he says softly. “c’mon honey. i’ve got you.”
he helps you undress like it’s nothing. slow, steady hands, always giving you time to shake your head if you need to, but you don’t. you don’t want to. you just want him - his warmth, his comfort, his safety.
the bathroom is full of steam and warmth. the tub is huge, too big for this cottage, but vander doesn’t do anything halfway. the water smells like something woodsy and clean, eucalyptus maybe, and the light is soft. no overheads, just the golden glow of a lamp in the corner.
he helps you in and lowers you back until the water cradles you.
you sink in with a shaky breath.
vander kneels behind you outside the tub, one arm braced along the porcelain as he runs his other hand through your hair. “relax honey,” he murmurs.
the scent of the shampoo is soft, something he picked because it reminded him of you, even if he never said it aloud. he works it in with steady fingers, his palms so big they cradle your whole scalp as he massages. you feel your shoulders drop for the first time all day.
he doesn’t speak unless it’s quiet praise.
“let me take care of you.”
“you don’t have to hold anything right now.”
he rinses your hair with a pitcher, one hand shielding your face. Then you feel a cloth move across your shoulders, your arms, your back. he takes his time like this is something he needs too.
eventually, you rest your head back against his chest. he’s leaned over the edge now, half-soaked himself, arms wrapped around you from behind. his lips brush your temple.
“you want me to carry you to bed when you’re ready?” he asks.
you nod. because you are ready. you’re safe. and for today, someone already knows what you need.
excuse me...do you mind if i ...fucking sob....tysm ily :')
