solstice

heaven sent mail `19

[fangsofangels]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ solstice ⋆˙⟡ 19 “ do you think

people can change leon? “

⟡

⤷ all about solstice

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⤷ before you request..

[fangsofangels]

measure of mercy .

chp . 1 chp . 2

tags : joel miller x ex-fedra medic! reader , fem! reader , SFW , strangers to lovers , sa survivor ! reader , readers age is not specified

word count : 2200+

a/n : im so happy people liked chp 1

Your first day in Jackson.

Your allocated house resembled the shape of a cabin. The lime green wood panels and the crooked gold door hinge were the first things you noticed. You also detailed a small sign at the front of the yard, beside the mail box. The sign was engraved with the word “Courtlynn’s” 

Spotting you staring at the sign, Your guide spoke.

“The Courtlynn’s were a nice couple. Till’ they got mauled by infected.” 

Your guide looked to be an older teenager. Her eyes tired, hair blowing in her face in the cool summer breeze. She didn’t seem too fond of you, looking you up and down.

You nodded in response.

She led you inside the home, a small shoe rack on your left, a worn out leather couch with a coffee table to your left, and a compact kitchen and bedroom. All the furniture was still here from the previous owners. You walked around the bedroom. Noting the lived in bedding, and a wooden photo frame sitting on the window sill.

As you picked it up, you noticed it was the couple. A photo you could only assume was from before the outbreak, in a small café, pastries and drinks scattered across the table.

A strange feeling rushed over you. 

You put down the photo and walk back over to the entranceway where your guide was waiting, she looked impatient, tapping on the door.

“The Medical Center isn't too far.” She walked you through how to get to the center.

You thanked her, sending her on her way.

Your clothes smelt of dirt and decay from yesterday's events. 

Shedding off your outer layer of a worn out, over sized plaid flannel and dirty hiking boots, you rummage through the old closet in the bedroom. 

Not the most fashionable people.

Changing into new, wrinkly but clean clothes, you head out towards the medical center.

…

The doors of the center opened as the buzzing fluorescent lights filled your ears. 

You dust yourself off before walking to the front of the reception counter.

“Hello, welcome to St. John’s medical centre, how may I help you?” Her voice sounded almost robotic, coated in a fake, plastered on cheerful tone as she filled out a patient report on a clipboard.

“I’m the new medic..? Uhm- did Maria-” 

She looks up from the report.

“Oh. Yeah Maria mentioned you. Follow me.” She cuts you short.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

You get appointed to an older man with a small gash on his leg. 

Nothing too serious, just stitch him up, and you’ll be done.

You walk into the room, the man sits up from the hospital bed and squints at you before expressing recognition.

“Nurse! Nurse!” he hollers.

The receptionist peeks in from the doorway. You move out of the way.

“I want a new doctor!” He shouts.

The receptionist kicks you out and the doctor assigns you a new patient. As you compose yourself outside the locked room, you begin to hear whispers.

“Isn’t that the FEDRA medic?”

“I can’t believe Maria let her in here..”

You pay no mind. You knew that gossip would get around eventually. Whatever.

You walk into the new patient's room. You need to treat the flu. Simple, prescribe her some antibiotics and-

“New doctor! I want a new doctor!” She yells, repeatedly slamming the “HELP” button. 

Geez lady, you’ll strain your voice hollering like that.

So the doctor assigns you a mundane task.

Reorganizing medical supplies by expiration date.

The staff hands you a new mask and sterilized rubber gloves. You let out a sigh and thank them, getting to work on the shelves of medical equipment

Hours pass. 2 shelves done, 1 more to go.

January… February… March… April… October… December… May…

A tap on your shoulder breaks you out of your trance.

“Your shift is over.” The receptionist states plainly.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply.

You throw your used mask and gloves into the trash. Walking back home, you steal a glance at the Tipsy Bison. The fairy lights glow, wrapping around the roof and you watch the people drink and laugh through the window. 

Truthfully, you needed a drink right now. So, why not?

You push past the bar doors.

Immediately you notice you’re being judged. Eyes stare at you, gossip passes around like a broken telephone. One person says this, therefore it must be true. You could’ve sworn you even heard someone say you were an ex-Seraphite. You rub your forehead while strolling up to the bar stools.

You notice Joel sitting too. One hand swirling his shot of whiskey, the other arm resting on the bar table. He’s thinking about something.

You sit 2 seats to the left of him. He pays you no mind.

You order a bottle of beer. 

The 1 bottle turns into 2.

Then 3.

Then your blackout drunk on your porch, sleeping on an old, crumbling rocking chair.

Your knees rest on the armrests of the chair, one hand supporting your head, the other resting on your stomach.

…

10:30 PM

You’ve been sleeping outside for 3 & ½ hours now. 

The wind brushes hair into your face.

The nearby crunching of boots stirs you, but you don’t wake up. A light slap on the shoulder coaxes you from sleep.

You slowly open your eyes to find Joel on your front porch, one hand on your shoulder.

“Y’re gonna catch a cold if ya don’t head inside.” He says.

You're really not hearing a lick of what he's saying, but based on the fact you're outside on a decrepit rocking chair, you grasp the idea.

You slowly stand up, your head spinning. 

You stumble over towards your entryway.

“G’night Joel,” You manage to mumble.

“Night.” He smiles as he replies.

The morning light beamed through your window pane.

You squinted your eyes and slowly held yourself up. Your head was throbbing, it felt like it had its own heartbeat. You rubbed at your temples, groaning.

Walking to the bathroom, you really saw how much of a mess you were.

Your hair looked like a bird’s nest,

Were your eye bags always this prominent?

Whatever.

You washed your face, brushed your teeth, downed 5 mugs of water, and got dressed.

I’ll just take some ibuprofen at the hospital.

The same monotonous routine repeated, the same as yesterday.

Do some organizing, write some reports, repeat.

You scribbled something incomprehensible on your medical report, sitting beside the receptionist.

Hearing a loud, painful groan, you look up. 

A man, with a wide gaping gash in his right leg so deep you swore you could see bone. He held his leg, wincing in pain.

A steady wet flow of blood was leaking all over the linoleum floors.

A small team quickly rushed him to a room, closing the door.

A few minutes later, a doctor comes out , rushing all the staff into a private room.

“It’s sepsis.”

“It’s severely infected, the skin all around his leg is hot and swollen. We don't have the IV fluid to treat him. Painkillers won’t hold him off for long, we presume he has a day before.. You know.” another doctor continued.

A long beat of silence passes as everyone follows.

Another nurse speaks up. “I heard there was a recently abandoned hospital near Jackson. It’s small but it has a lot of supplies. Someone could scavenge.”

You consider it. It wasn’t like you hadn’t faced infected before, or abandoned buildings. In theory, if someone came with you, you could go retrieve all those supplied. 

It could also help your case with being gawked at.

But risk came too. This world was unpredictable, you could get bitten, and who knows what that building holds.

A doctor replies “No, no.. that’s far too risky.”

You blurt it out. “I’ll go.”

Everyone's head turns.

The lead doctor looks at you, then back at the floor, his eyebrows knitting together as he thinks.

You clear your throat.

“I’ve.. uhm, dealt with infected before. I can handle it if someone were to go with me.” You say, trying to help your case.

Another doctor taps the lead doctor with the back of his hand.

“Hey, ask Maria to get Joel.”

“Why not Tommy?” someone questions

“Tommy’s half blind.”

“Ah.” 

…

40 minutes later, you're on top of a horse with a pistol shoved in your pocket, and a large green duffle bag for shoving supplies in.

“D’you even know how to ride a horse?” Joel asks.

“They taught everyone how to do that at FEDRA,” you reply.

He nods in understanding.

You admired the horse you were on. It was an ashy grey, with occasional white patterning over his back and nose. You pat it on the back. The horse was soft and smooth, almost like a bunny.

Joel jumps on top of his horse, and you follow his lead out the gateway.

…

“D’you know how to shoot that thing?” Joel questions.

Geez, did he ask this many questions the first time you guys met?

“Uh, no.” You answer shyly.

“Get off.”

“Huh?”

“Get off the horse. I’m gon’ teach you. Real quick.” 

You reluctantly comply, tying your horse on a lazy knot around the tree. You follow Joel to a tall tree stump in the middle of a big field, drawing out your small pistol.

“Hold it with two hands, a tight grip on the trigger.”

You follow.

He comes behind you, his toned stomach touching your back, arms and hands covering yours on the gun. You notice the large veins on his forearms and hands, and his hard biceps flexing as he covers your small hands.

Your ears flush pink.

He clears his throat.

“Now sometimes the fuckers’ll move, so ya gotta be precise with your bullets. Two bullets to the head’ll kill a clicker, one’ll kill a runner. Try not to move while ya shoot, it’s less accurate.”

“..Yeah,” You reply, murmuring.

“Aim for the middle of the stump.” He orders.

His finger follows yours onto the trigger, helping you push it back. 

The bullet follows through the wood, lodging into the middle of the stump. 

He retreats back to his horse. You compose yourself, holstering your gun.

…

Around 20 minutes of horse riding got you two to the abandoned hospital. It wasn’t too big, you two could definitely clear this and ride back to Jackson to save the man.

“Central Hill Medical Center” 

The “C” on the sign was crooked, but the hospital itself was pretty clean, disregarding the shattered windows. As the Nurse back at Jackson said, the center hadn’t been abandoned for long. It was just a matter of finding supplies and IV fluid that weren't expired.

You followed after Joel’s lead, entering the dark hospital. The only way to see was through the areas with sunlight and windows. Each room looked a mess, the hospital beds flipped over and shoved against the doors. Joel switched on his flashlight.

“What happened here?” You asked, whispering.

“Not sure.” He replied.

…

A few minutes into the hospital, you spot a sign. 

“FLUID STORAGE”

“There.” Your voice low.

Joel pushes a finger on his lips. Signalling to be quiet while crouching down.

Looking back at him while moving forward, you look confused.

“What?” 

Crack.

You step on a shattered piece of glass.

Then you hear it. A horde of infected. The clicking of their tongues and their shrieking for blood.

Joel acts fast, rushing you two towards the fluid storage room, slamming a metal tray table against the door. 

“Grab the shit and let’s get out of here!” He shouts. The horde was coming closer.

You stumble and shake as you grab the duffle bag and search for the IV fluid in the shelves.

0.9% Normal Saline

No..

0.45% Sodium Chloride 

No!

The clicks and chittering are close.

Shrieks and rumbles fill the air.

Plasma-Lyte

Yes. You check the expiration date.

Expired one month ago.

Fuck! 

“Hurry it up!” Joel hollers, but you can’t hear him. You need to find this fluid.

Dextran & Hetastarch 

Where is it?!

Plasma-Lyte

You check the expiration date again. Safe. You shove it in the duffle.

“I got it!” You yell over the wave of noise.

He considered his escape options.

Joel swiftly pulls you in, big arms coming around you.

He dives out a window. Glass shattering all over the two of you, cutting your hands and arms.

The glass cuts a deep laceration over Joel’s forearm, but that’s not important to him right now. Right now, he needs to get the two of you to safety and make a run for the horses.

He grips your wrist and starts sprinting, quickly untying the horses, you two hastily giddy-up and sprint for Jackson. The horde is close behind you.

Joel looks back and yells.

“Duck!”

You comply, your head ducks down, hands shielding, leading your horse blindly.

Joel throws a lit molotov with frightening precision. It hits the group directly, burning them all with a painful crack. 

As you ride back, the shrieking of infected grow quieter.

…

Jackson’s gates creak open.

Joel’s bleeding forearm rests across your shoulders, the warm blood seeping into your skin and clothes. 

You hold up the duffle bag.

Out of breath, you announce.

“I got it.”

tag list : @m3part2 @vickie5446 @meowieees

[fangsofangels]

stray .

tags : bucky barnes x fem!reader , established relationship , SFW , bucky is a cat lover <3

word count : 400+

Meow.

Walking around the neighborhood park, you and Bucky stopped in your tracks.

You turn on your heel, behind you is a small kitten. Fur black, with the occasional white dotting over its nose and legs. 

Wiggling its ears, you see it slowly crawl up to the two of you.

“Oh my god.” You cover your mouth with your hands, lips curling into a smile you can’t control.

“Bucky! Look!” You exclaim, excitedly tapping his shoulder.

Bucky kneels down. His flesh arm guiding the critter towards him and his metal arm rubbing across its fur in a smoothing motion. 

The cat seems to like that, curling its tail into a C shape.

It turns on its belly, stretching out its limbs before rolling back up and crawling closer to Bucky. The cat confidently crawls over Bucky’s legs up into the crook of his metal arm, curling into a ball.

“It likes my arm.” Bucky smiles.

You secretly snapped a photo.

He continues petting the cat as it rests with his flesh arm. It was the first time you’ve seen Bucky smile for this long. His smile had always incited happiness in you too. It made you happy to see your boyfriend so calm. Away from the dangers of the world. Just you two.

“I think it’s Alpine's spirit guardian.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

Mrrrrowwwwwwwwww.

The cat yawned, a high pitch meow ringing in your ears. It quickly stood back up, and disappeared into the bushes as soon as it appeared.

“Noo! Kitty!” You kneeled in front of the bushes, trying to follow the cat's tracks, but the dark sky made it hard to see. You squinted. Nothing.

Bucky held out an arm and helped you stand. 

“Gone as soon as it came.” Bucky remarked, looking back at the bush.

You link your hands again, walking back home. You pull out the picture you took on your phone. Flipping the phone screen so he could see.

You giggle. “You're so cute.”

“Your 106 year old boyfriend is not cute,” he replied.

“Look at the picture. You’re the cutest.” You bump his shoulder while smiling.

“Dont send that to Sam.” 

“Too late.” You reply.

He tousles your hair with his hand, You chuckle and shove him away jokingly. He picks you up with practiced ease. You squirm. “Bucky! Put me down!” Kicking your legs and flailing your arms in the air.

He tilts his head to look down at you. A beat passes before he starts smothering your face in pecks and kisses, his stubble scratching your face.

You laugh “Bucky! Tickles!” you holler.

[fangsofangels]

measure of mercy .

chp . 1 chp . 2

tags : joel miller x ex-fedra medic! reader , fem! reader , SFW , strangers to lovers , sa survivor ! reader , readers age is not specified

tw:!! mentions of sexual assault

word count : 1500+

a/n : im reposting this because i didn’t like the concept of the last one and it flopped

“Shh.” 

Joel held his pistol close to his chest, kneeling behind a short bush, Tommy behind him.

The plan was supposed to be simple.

Patrol the area Maria told them to for any infected. 

But when they saw that small camp, stacked with supplies, food that could feed families for weeks? with the amount of raiders that the two could’ve taken down in their sleep?

It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

The area around the small campsite looked to be an abandoned plaza; at the front, a crooked sign with the words “ Allencourt Heights Plaza “ hung. The sign was falling apart and rusting, as with many other things around, but it was still comprehensible. The buildings around the camp were still standing, vines and leaves wrapped around the roofs and walls of each building.

Joel & Tommy struck, taking down each man silently, cutting their throats. Bodies quickly filled the plaza ground, dark crimson freely flowing across the floor. 

“Nice job.” Tommy applauded.

“Yeah. Grab the supplies. Check the buildings around too.” 

….

[e/c] eyes peeked through the blinds as you spotted the two brothers.

You flinched as you saw the bodies of the bandits stacked on top of each other outside. 

Your mind quickly ran through all the possible scenarios. Each one ended with death. The pair gave the impression of being rugged survivors, guns strapped to their back, a pistol and blade ready to slaughter any threat that came too close. All you had was a dull hatchet blade, stained with a sticky coating of blood. 

The smell of rot and decay filled your nose. 

The decaying man sitting on the floor beside you was once a raider. Once someone that forced you to bring food for him, to patch him up after a few accidents happened during a raid.

But healing a bite?

That was beyond your expertise.

Besides, he was going to turn into a runner soon. You couldn’t heal him. He’d been sitting in this same blood and sweat stained spot and position for the entire night, his eyes cloudy, staring at you. Red splattered all over his torn, dirty clothes, greasy, tousled hair.

Veins were starting to form texture on his forearms and forehead.

Then you thought about it. Really thought about it. 

Why would you want to keep this man alive? He was part of the problem. Him and his buddies trapping you in this hellhole of a plaza for months on end. You hadn’t breathed fresh air since. 

You remembered that terrifying night. 

The one where he almost forced his hands on you, forced himself on you.

You grit your teeth, tightening your grasp on the bloody hatchet. Looking at him once more, you see his head has drooped down.

Your breath heaves, memories flooding back.

You raise the hatchet and let out a trembling breath.

You scream in rage as you hit him with the hatchet, over and over and over again. The blade moved with frighteningly cold precision, warm, glossy, red slowly crawled down his sitting body, mixing with the old oxidised blood smeared on the floor and wall.

…

Tommy and Joel turn on their heels, facing a small, abandoned bookstore where they heard the yell.

“What the fuck was that?” Tommy’s voice low and steady.

Joel draws his pistol, ready to aim and shoot.

The two brothers carefully approach the building’s glass door, dusty and covered in old newspapers and magazines, they swing the door open.

The doors recoil upon hitting the wall, making a loud noise.

Your labored breathing steadies in a moment of silence, you drop your rusty hatchet, it clatters on the wooden floorboards. You slowly put your hands up, staring off to the side. With two pistols aimed at you, you don’t dare make any sudden movements. You carefully pull a small leather wallet out of your back pocket. The two brothers are staring at you. The wallet flips open, revealing a FEDRA ID. It detailed your name, age, a small picture of you on the right hand side, and a red cross logo with big red letters in bold, “MEDIC”. The ID was dusty and old, but still visible.

“D-don’t shoot! Please..” You beg. This was not how you were going to die. Your legs trembled as you tilted your head down, pursing your lips.

Joel tenses, tightening his grip on his pistol, finger resting on the trigger.

Tommy loosens a bit, his arms dropping his pistol down to his hips, not fully letting go, but calming down a little.

Tommy murmurs something in Joel's ear, that you can’t quite hear.

…

“We need more medics, Jackson don’t have enough.” 

“You goin’ insane?” Joel’s thick Texan accent coating his words. His grasp on the pistol doesn't let up. Amber eyes piercing through you.

“Have some mercy.” Tommy replied.

A beat of silence passed as Joel thought.

It was true. Jackson needed more medics. St. John’s Medical Center didn’t have nearly enough doctors for the amount of civilians that were injured.

He slowly lowered his gun, his stare unrelenting. His thick eyebrows knit together as he detailed you with his eyes.

“Y-yeah! I can work for you… Please just- let me live.” You pleaded, heart pounding in your chest.

“Keep up.” Joel spat. Low, almost like a grunt. He shoved his pistol into the holster, rolling the sleeves of his green flannel.

“C’mon.” Tommy urged. You could hear the Texan accents clearly now.

“Tommy, Joel.” He gestured his finger pointing at himself, then toward the other man. You could tell Joel was slightly older, more gruff and rugged than Tommy. You’ve met many people with the same personality in the outbreak. Surviving makes everyone put their guard up.

…

Their horses sat just outside the plaza, a thick rope knot tied to a tree.

The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky casting a pretty orange hue over the trees.

It was the first time you’d felt calm, in a long time. Not worrying about serving anyone anymore, or on the edge between life and death.

“C’mon.” Joel gripped your wrist and lifted you up with ease onto his horse.

The horse was an amber brown color, with a black fluffy mane.

In an attempt to avoid the awkward horse ride, you mumble “Pretty horse.” 

A long beat of silence passes.

Okay, not much of a talker.

…

Soon you arrive. A big fence surrounds the perimeter, and an intimidating gate stands in front of you. The gateway slowly opens with a loud creaking sound. The horses leisurely step into the base.

Your mouth gapes. The “base” was more like a city. There was no smell of rotting meat or decaying sidewalks, the roads were clean. Cars were parked in the front of every building. The buildings were beautiful. You were surrounded with stores, homes, and even a bar with a large sign that read “Tipsy Bison.” lit up fairy lights hung from the roofs, not the overgrown vines you were used to. It might’ve been daily life for them, but this was almost like a fairytale for you. For a second you almost forgot about the mess that the outside world really was. 

“Wow..”

Tommy smiled at your reaction.

Joel and Tommy halted near the horse stables, leading the two horses to their posts, Joel grunting as he tied a thick rope knot.

A middle aged woman strode up to the two of them.

Tommy gestures his finger. “My wife, Maria.”

You wave.

Her short grey and platinum blonde hair was tousled in the cool wind.

The woman’s face was unreadable, a neutral expression plastered on. She strode up quickly to the brothers and raised her eyebrow looking at you.

“I need to talk to you two. In private.”

…

“How can you guys trust so easily?” The woman asks, annoyance lacing her words. She drags a hand down her mouth, a hand resting on her hip.

“She could be lying through her teeth. She could be W.L.F, FEDRA, who knows!” She says, accusatorily.

Joel nudged Tommy. 

Tommy cleared his throat.

“She- is ex-FEDRA..” Tommy murmurs, looking off into the distance rubbing the back of his neck.

“Excuse me?” Maria tilts her head. In the corner of her eye, she can see you sitting on a bench, toying and tugging on your sleeves.

Maria grits her teeth, clenching her fists before letting out an anxious sounding breath.

She runs a hand through her short hair before continuing.

“You let an ex-FEDRA agent come into our city? Are you serious?” She’s on the verge of shouting at this point. Throwing her hands up and rambling on and on about the safety of Jackson, and how the two of them needed to be more careful, how she never should’ve assigned the two as patrol partners.

To Joel it was going in one ear and out the other. His patience was running thin.

Joel cuts her short. “Okay Maria, what do you reckon we do about it then? Leave her outside? To get eaten by infected?” He exaggerates the last words.

“She’s a medic. We need more doctors and you know that.” Tommy stated

An uncomfortable silence passes.

…

“Fine. She can stay. But if anyone comes looking for her, she's out.”

[fangsofangels]

right here .

tags : fem! reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, SFW, bucky barnes x red room survivor! reader.

word count : 626

Truthfully, you knew it was going to happen hours before. 

Bucky knew it too. He knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep well without him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep well without you. 

When he was there you felt.. Lighter. To touch someone beside you, to run your fingers through his hair, to feel after being restricted from it all those years.

It felt like you were human again.

But the missions weren’t optional. Working with Earth's mightiest heroes came with its responsibilities. 

“I’ll be back soon.” Was what you remember him saying in the morning. You even drove him to the drop off. Waving to Sam, smiling,

But as soon as you drove out of view, your heart was already pounding. Your eyes darted from one place to the next as you swiftly drove home. One hand on the wheel, the other on your chest, trying to compose yourself.

The night came silently, some people would even say calmly, the moon glowing through your sheer white curtains.

But silence was like a parasite. Slowly eating at your brain until you’ve convinced yourself you were back there.

Back to the neon-drenched red lights that dilated your pupils.

Back to the restless nights with your hands handcuffed to your bedframe.

Back to the brainwashing. The conditioning. The sterilizing until the girl they once knew became a machine. A trained “soldier”.

You're swallowed in darkness. The room is empty. But the smell is familiar. Suddenly you’re that little girl again. Sitting with your knees bunched up to hide your face, your arms hugging your small frame. 

You spot something in the distance. A figure, shrouded with black. Coming closer, you recognize her. A little girl that was in the program with you. One you saw die. In front of your eyes. Crimson splattering all over the white floor. 

“Why didn’t you save me?”

…

You bolted upright, eyes wide.

You couldn’t breathe, it felt like a crushing weight was pushing on your chest. Your throat was so tight it felt like it was caving in.

Sweat drenched you. Hands and arms limp and numb.

Then the tears came. Hard and fast. Your hands hid your face, muffling the whimpering and sobbing that snuck out. You didn’t even realize Bucky had opened the door or had came home.

“Baby?” he whispered while shrugging off his jacket.

Then he saw you. A crying mess, your hands hid your wet face, your knees bunched up to your chest with the blanket messily laid around you. You were crying loud now. Sniffling and sobbing so fast your lungs hurt.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He stood in front of the bed. “This is gonna pass, okay? I’m right here baby.” he cooed.

“Do you think you can look at me? Can you do that?” 

Bucky’s voice was low and quiet, an attempt to not startle you any further.

A sharp gasp came from you before you eventually let your hands drop and reveal your face. Your nose and cheeks were extremely red from rubbing and crying, tears glossed over your lashes and face. Your breath was starting to steady.

Bucky brought over some cold water, tipping it to help you drink.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked.

Another sharp inhale came as you shook your head.

“Can I touch you?” His voice soft and gentle. You nodded, and he quietly got into the bed with you, maintaining some space, he started off gentle. Only holding your hand. It was only when you weakly moved closer to him that he embraced you, his large arms warming you.

“I was so scared.” You managed to mutter through your shaking.

“I'm here baby. Not goin’ anywhere. I’ll always be here.”