━ GENTLE HANDS
all i need is your warmth
SYNOPSIS ━ you come home exhausted, bone deep tired in a way that makes the world feel heavy. but sophia’s there — quiet, warm, waiting. and suddenly, the apartment feels softer. your breath slows. your shoulders drop. because tonight, you don’t have to hold yourself together. she’ll do it for you
PAIRINGS ━ sophia laforteza x gn!reader
WARNINGS ━ emotional exhaustion and uhh i think that’s it
GENRES ━ hurt / comfort, slice of life, romance
WORD COUNT ━ uhhmm.. didn’t really chexk for this fic..
A/N ━ koko’s back :] too lazy to add dividers 🤦🏻♀️.. ++ apologies for the OBVIOUS repetition of words 😬 i know that could bother some readers—but i promise next fic is gonna be good
the drive home feels longer than it actually is.
you’re pretty sure it’s only twenty minutes from work to the apartment, but today it feels like you’re crossing continents. the streetlights blur into soft yellow streaks across the windshield, your eyes stinging every time you blink. the air in the car is still, heavy with that familiar mix of exhaustion and silence that comes after a day that asked too much of you.
your fingers ache a little where they wrap around the steering wheel. you keep shifting your grip, adjusting, relaxing, squeezing again, like your hands can’t decide whether they’re tired or tense. the radio stays off; the world feels too loud already, and you just want quiet.
you exhale slowly, letting your shoulders sink as much as they can while you’re still sitting upright. all you want is to reach the apartment, peel off the day like a heavy coat, and collapse into something soft. a bed, a couch, a warm pair of arms — anything that isn’t fluorescent lights, ringing phones, or the endless list of things you didn’t ask to deal with.
your phone buzzes once in the cup holder, a tiny vibration to remind you that someone’s waiting. you don’t need to look to know who it’s from. sophia had texted you earlier
fifi 🤍 : im at the apartment btw <3
nothing dramatic, nothing alarming, just a. she didn’t give a reason, didn’t explain why she wasn’t at practice today, didn’t say why she decided to spend her day off at your place instead of catching up on sleep or resting somewhere quiet.
you don’t question it much. if anything, the thought of her being there makes your chest loosen just a little.
still, there’s something in your stomach — maybe confusion, maybe relief, maybe both — because sophia showing up unprompted usually means she missed you or worried about you. and she always seems to sense when your day is going to be a rough one, even before you know it yourself.
the red light ahead washes the car in a soft glow. you stare through the windshield, eyes unfocused, letting the faint hum of the engine settle into your bones. you imagine the apartment’s warm lighting, the quiet stillness of the living room, and maybe sophia curled up on the couch, waiting for the sound of your keys.
you sigh again, not out of frustration this time, but out of something weary and tender.
you’re so, so tired… but at least she’s there.
the light turns green, and you ease your foot onto the gas, guiding the car forward.
each minute, each block, each turn brings you closer to her—closer to home.
closer to the one place where you’re allowed to fall apart a little.
——
the moment you step inside, the apartment greets you with a stillness that feels almost unfamiliar after the noise of the day. it’s quiet—not an empty quiet, but a warm one, like the walls themselves are relieved you’re finally home. the soft glow from the living room spills into the hallway, pulling your eyes forward even though your mind is still stuck somewhere between exhaustion and relief.
you stand there for a moment, fingers resting loosely on the doorknob, body too tired to decide what to do next. your bag slips from your shoulder and lands on the floor with a muted thump, and the sound echoes a little too loudly in your head. your shoes feel tight, suffocating almost, so you nudge them off slowly, letting them sit crooked on the mat.
you don’t call out her name.
maybe you’re too tired.
maybe you don’t want to break whatever peaceful calm she’s created here.
maybe… maybe part of you wants to be found.
and you are.
a sound drifts from the living room—the soft rustle of fabric, a blanket shifting, someone standing up quietly. then her voice, gentle as a breath:
“hey… you’re home.”
you look up, and there she is.
sophia appears around the corner with that soft, home-warm look she gets only when she’s truly relaxed. her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, a little messy from however she’d been resting before you arrived. she’s wearing an oversized sweater she once joked she stole from you, sleeves slightly bunched at her wrists. the moment her eyes meet yours, something changes in her expression—like she can feel your exhaustion radiating from across the room.
she walks toward you slowly, not rushing, not overwhelming the space. each step feels intentional, like she’s giving you time to breathe, time to settle. when she finally reaches you, she lifts her hands with a kind of gentleness that breaks you open a little. her fingertips hover near your arms first, asking silently if you’ll let her touch you.
you don’t say anything—you don’t need to. your tired posture gives her every answer she needs.
she closes the distance and wraps her arms around you, drawing you into her chest with a softness that presses right into the hollow parts of you. she smells faintly of lavender and something sweet, something familiar. her warmth spreads instantly, seeping into your bones, melting the stiffness you’ve been carrying all day.
her voice is soft against your ear when she speaks again.
“long day?”
the question isn’t meant to make you talk—it’s more like she’s acknowledging what she already knows. you try to give some kind of response, anything, but your words fail before they form. instead, you let out a quiet exhale, shaky around the edges.
she hears it.
she understands it.
she pulls you in tighter.
her palms slide slowly up your back, fingers tracing gentle, grounding circles that make your shoulders sag. she rocks you just slightly, a small, instinctive motion, like she’s trying to soothe the ache she can feel in the way you’re holding yourself upright.
“it’s okay,” she murmurs, voice barely louder than a whisper.
“you’re okay. i’ve got you.”
your forehead drops to her shoulder, not even consciously—you simply fold. she holds all your weight without hesitation, hands steady and warm, never rushing you, never asking for more than you can give.
in her arms, the world finally quiets.
your heartbeat slows.
your breath evens out.
for the first time all day, your body begins to unclench.
“you’re home now,” she says softly, brushing her thumb along the back of your neck. “you can rest.”
your breath catches, not from sadness, not from anything sharp—just from the way her voice wraps around you, warm and steady like she’s trying to hold your heart as carefully as she holds your body. sophia shifts a little, just enough to press a soft kiss to the side of your head, her lips lingering there like she’s trying to kiss the exhaustion out of you.
“hey,” she whispers, pulling back just enough to see your face, her hands sliding to cradle your jaw like something precious. “look at me, mahal.”
you do, slowly, eyes heavy, half-lidded with exhaustion. she smiles at you, this small, tender thing that feels like a blanket all on its own.
“you look so tired,” she says quietly, thumb brushing your cheek. “my baby had a really hard day, didn’t they?”
you don’t even manage words — you just nod, the tiniest movement, but she sees it instantly. she hums softly, this sweet, breathy sound, like she’s reassuring you without language.
“come here,” she murmurs, drawing you back to her chest and rocking you gently. “it’s okay. i’ll take care of you.”
your fingers curl weakly into her sweater, and she kisses the top of your head like she’s sealing a promise.
then she pulls back again, her hands sliding down your arms, rubbing warmth into your tired muscles.
“you wanna lay down?” she asks, soft enough that it feels like she’s asking the question right inside your heart.
you nod again—slow, almost sluggish—and she gives you this expression that’s all softness and love and quiet certainty. she takes one of your hands, intertwining your fingers with hers, guiding you away from the doorway with steps that match your tired pace.
“good,” she whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “let me take you. you don’t have to do anything anymore, mahal, just let me hold you.”
and you follow her—because in this moment, with sophia taking care of you like you’re the most precious thing she’s ever held, you don’t have to be strong or put-together or anything but tired.
she’s already decided she’ll be strong enough for both of you tonight.
sophia guides you gently toward the couch, one hand at your lower back, the other still holding your fingers. the soft carpet cushions each step, but you barely notice—you’re too heavy, too tired, too worn out from the day. she senses it immediately, her movements slow, careful, as if she’s carrying you even while you’re walking on your own two feet.
“here we go, baby,” she murmurs, voice soft, tender. “let’s get you comfy, okay?”
you only manage a small nod, letting your body lean into her just enough to feel her presence. her warmth surrounds you completely, and even though you’re still standing, your knees feel a little lighter. the couch looks impossibly inviting, a soft refuge in the middle of the quiet apartment, and she gently steers you toward it.
“c’mon… sit here,” she whispers, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. her fingers linger at your temple, gentle and soothing. “you don’t have to do anything but rest.”
your shoulders sag a little more as you sink onto the cushions, the fabric soft and welcoming beneath you. she crouches slightly in front of you, leaning close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her, but not too close to feel pressured. her hands reach for your shoes, and she removes them slowly, one by one, placing them neatly aside.
“there,” she says, soft smile brushing her lips. “that’s better, huh? no more tight shoes, no more stress on your feet tonight.”
you hum faintly, barely audible, just enough to acknowledge her words, and she leans down to kiss the top of your head. the gesture is light, tender, but full of intention—she’s letting you know that right now, in this moment, she’s here for you and only you.
then she reaches for your bag, tugging it from your shoulder and setting it aside. her hands linger a little as she straightens the strap, then brushes her fingers along your forearm.
“good, baby… now you can just… breathe.” she settles beside you on the couch, shoulders brushing against yours, hand finding yours again, fingers intertwining like a soft anchor. “i’ve got you. just… relax.”
she pauses, letting the silence stretch between you for a few breaths, filled only with the small sound of your inhale and exhale. the kind of silence that isn’t empty—it’s safe, it’s warm, it’s hers to give.
“do you want some water, baby?” she asks, voice gentle, eyes soft. “i can get it for you… or maybe some tea? whatever makes you feel better.”
you shake your head, tired muscles barely moving, and she grins, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your temple.
“you sure you don’t want a drink? ” she questions. “you’ve had such a hard day…”
you nod—sure of your answer and sophia nods , sighing softly as she leans back a little on the couch, keeping her hand wrapped loosely around yours, her thumb brushing tiny, steady circles over your knuckles, and you feel that familiar, grounding warmth spreading slowly from her touch into every ache you didn’t realize you were holding onto. she tilts her head slightly, looking down at you with soft, adoring eyes, and her lips curve into that little smile she always has for you when she’s completely focused on just you, like the rest of the world has melted away.
“you’re doing so well, mahal,” she murmurs, voice a quiet melody that fills the empty spaces of your exhaustion, “even if today felt like it was never going to end… you’re still here, and you’re still my baby… my sweet, strong baby, huh?” she leans forward to press her forehead lightly against yours, just enough that you feel the warmth, the gentle pressure, and the steady beat of her heart. it’s as if she’s silently telling you that everything that happened today, all the tension, all the stress, none of it matters right now, because she’s here and she’s not going anywhere.
her free hand rises slowly, brushing the back of your neck, tracing little featherlight paths down toward your shoulders, and she hums softly, low and comforting, like a lullaby made just for you. her thumb returns to your hand, squeezing it gently, a quiet reminder that she’s holding on for both of you tonight, carrying the weight so you don’t have to.
“do you want me to grab a blanket, sweetheart?” she asks a different question, tilting her head to the side, that playful softness in her voice that makes your chest unclench just a little. you barely nod, and she grins, pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering like she’s sealing it with care. she rises just enough to grab a plush blanket from the arm of the couch, then settles back next to you, draping it over your shoulders with gentle care, making sure it’s wrapped just right so that it tucks under your chin lightly, cocooning you in warmth and softness.
“there,” she whispers, running her fingers through the loose strands of your hair, “all cozy now.. just let yourself melt, okay? i’ll take care of everything, mahal. no need to even think… just rest.” her voice is the kind that seeps into your bones, quiet and steady, like she’s speaking directly to the parts of you that haven’t stopped worrying all day.
she shifts slightly so she can sit closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before letting her cheek rest softly against yours, just enough for you to feel her warmth radiating through your tired skin—her hand drifting from your hair to the small of your back, rubbing in slow, reassuring circles. “you don’t have to do anything, mahal… just let me love you tonight.”
her words tumble over you like a soft tide, each one coaxing you deeper into the couch, deeper into the safety of her presence. you feel her fingers tracing tiny, invisible patterns along your arm, along your neck, like she’s mapping out every ache and holding it gently in her hands, promising silently that it won’t be yours to carry anymore.
“you’re safe with me… nothing has to touch you tonight except comfort,” she says, her lips brushing your hairline, whispering into the strands like they were a secret only meant for you. she presses another kiss there, soft and fleeting, then her arms tighten just a touch, holding you closer as if she’s determined to erase every bit of the day that tried to weigh you down.
her gaze lingers on you, full of quiet love, soft amusement, and an unshakable certainty that she’ll be your anchor until you can breathe freely again. “i promise, sweetheart, i’ll take care of you… i’ll hold every heavy thought until they’re gone… just feel my arms around you, my heartbeat, my voice… i’m here, always.”
you let out a small sigh, your body leaning almost instinctively against hers, and she hums softly, a tender, drawn-out sound that wraps around your mind and muscles alike. she brushes her fingers through your hair slowly, carefully, and presses her cheek against yours again.
you shift slightly on the couch, letting yourself sink more fully into the cushions, into the warmth of sophia sitting beside you. her arm moves around your shoulders almost instinctively, draping across you like a soft barrier between you and the rest of the world. you close your eyes for a moment, the faint hum of the apartment around you barely registering as your body begins to melt into the space she’s created just for you.
she notices the little twitch in your shoulders, the tiny tension left even after you’ve tried to relax, and she tilts her head down, resting her cheek lightly against yours. her fingers trace slow, lazy circles along your arm, and you feel the weight of the day begin to ebb from your muscles, almost imperceptibly, almost like it’s dissolving into her presence.
you shift again, this time leaning closer, letting your forehead brush against her chest, then slowly, instinctively, your head settles there, just below her collarbone. the steady rhythm of her heartbeat fills your ears, and the rise and fall of her chest beneath your head is a quiet anchor that lulls you into a rare sense of calm. you let out a small, relieved sigh, letting your arms fall loosely at your sides.
“that’s it…” she murmurs softly, her lips brushing the top of your hair. “rest here. just breathe… i’ve got you.” her hand slides from your arm to your back, kneading gently in small, careful circles. she doesn’t rush, doesn’t ask anything of you—her attention is entirely on the simple act of keeping you safe, keeping you present, keeping you still long enough to feel the tension leave your body.
you feel her shift slightly, adjusting so you’re more comfortable against her, and she hums under her breath, a soft, grounding sound that presses against your tired mind in a way that makes your shoulders unclench even more. your hands curl loosely around the fabric of her shirt as if you’re holding onto something tangible, a reminder that you’re not alone, that you don’t have to shoulder the weight of the day by yourself.
she speaks again, quiet, deliberate, words just above a whisper. “look at me, just for a second…” her fingers lift to tilt your chin gently upward, her eyes catching yours, warm and steady. “you did so much today… so much, and it’s okay to let it go now.” her thumb brushes along your cheek, wiping away traces of tension, traces of fatigue, traces of the day that pressed too hard against you.
you lean back against her chest again, letting her hands settle over your back, her weight and warmth wrapping around you like a shield. your breathing slows, each inhale a little deeper, each exhale a little longer. for the first time in hours, maybe even all day, you feel the edges of your stress soften, and the steady, unspoken rhythm of her presence becomes a quiet balm.
“that’s it,” she murmurs again, voice low, soft, protective. “you can just stay here,” she presses a small kiss to the crown of your head and adjusts slightly so your head rests fully on her chest, comfortable, secure, like it belongs there.
you feel her fingers thread lightly through your hair, then settle to stroke along the line of your jaw and down to your shoulder. she’s not pushing, not asking, not speaking more than she needs to, just creating a space where you can exist without obligation, without weight, without expectation.
“my baby… my sweet, strong baby,” she whispers finally, a soft warmth in her voice that makes your chest ache in the gentlest way, a tether pulling you closer to rest, to safety, to her. you relax into her, fully, finally, the hum of the apartment fading entirely as her heartbeat becomes the only rhythm that matters.
——
you shift slightly, leaning more into her chest, letting your head rest heavier against her collarbone. “today, standing all day really hurt my back,” you murmur quietly, voice tired and low. “everything at work just piled up and i couldn’t catch a break.” your fingers trace a lazy path along her side, barely moving but finding some comfort in the warmth under your touch.
sophia hums softly, hand coming up to brush against your cheek. her knuckles press gently, as if your skin is delicate, guiding you without words. “mhm,” she murmurs, nodding softly, eyes following your movements, steady and quiet.
you sigh, leaning slightly against her, forehead brushing hers for a moment. “my legs… every step felt heavier than the one before. it was exhausting and my back was tight the whole time.”
“yeah?” she whispers, tilting her head, fingers tracing slow, delicate circles along your jaw. she hums under her breath, steady and calm, letting the vibration settle in your chest. “i see, sweetheart,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead lightly against the top of yours.
you shift a little more, exhaling slowly. “and the stress at work, it just… keeps building. even little tasks felt like too much, and by the end, i couldn’t move fast without feeling my back pull.”
she hums low, nodding slightly, hand moving to cradle the back of your neck. her knuckles brush gently against your cheeks again, careful and deliberate. “mhm, i hear you,” she whispers, sliding her fingers along your arm in small, comforting motions. she doesn’t push for more, just lets you speak, letting the tension leave naturally.
you close your eyes, tilting your head against her chest. “i didn’t even have a proper break, my legs kept aching, and my back felt like it was dragging me down all day.”
“i know, baby,” she says softly, pressing a light kiss to your temple. her thumb brushes along your cheek again, knuckles caressing gently like glass. she hums low and rhythmic, nodding quietly, letting you feel held and safe. “i’ve got you. just stay here. let me take care of everything.”
you exhale slowly, your body sinking deeper against her. the room is quiet except for her steady hum, the soft rise and fall of her chest under your head, and the faint sound of your own breath. her hands continue to move slowly, soothingly, and you feel the tension start to ease, carried away by her touch and presence.
she moves her weight a little so you can settle more comfortably against her, her arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer with a slow, careful motion. her hands keep moving in gentle patterns along your back, easing everything you’ve been holding in your shoulders. you feel her breathe in and out steadily, and the simple rhythm makes your own chest loosen.
she nudges her chin lightly against the top of your head. “come here,” she whispers, adjusting you so your body is angled fully toward hers, your cheek pressed right over her heartbeat. her fingers slide to your hairline, brushing it back softly before she leans down to kiss your temple again, slower this time.
you relax into it, letting your eyes fall half-closed as she rearranges the blanket over both of you. she smooths the fabric near your shoulders, tucking it under your arm, making sure you’re warm and held from every side. her movements are unhurried, steady in a way that makes your exhaustion feel less sharp.
her thumb trails along your cheek again, knuckles grazing you in a slow, affectionate sweep. she looks at you for a long moment, studying the lines of tiredness she can see even in the dim lighting. her voice comes out quieter than before. “you’re okay. i’m right here.”
you shift slightly, nudging your forehead into her collarbone. “it… feels better like this,” you whisper, voice so small you almost don’t hear it yourself.
she smiles, barely noticeable but warm. “good,” she murmurs, letting her hand rest at your jaw for a moment, thumb brushing softly under it. “i want you to feel better.”
your breathing deepens as you settle, and she pulls you just a little closer, enough so that your whole weight can rest comfortably against her. she tilts her head a bit, resting her cheek against your hair and letting out a soft hum—barely a sound, almost a vibration more than a melody.
your fingers curl lightly into the fabric of her sweater, not grabbing, just grounding yourself there. she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps humming and running her fingers slowly through your hair, letting the silence settle between you in a way that feels warm instead of empty.
you shift again, a tired sigh leaving your chest as your shoulders sink even deeper. sophia notices every tiny movement, every little release of tension. her hand glides down to your back again, rubbing slow lines just under your shoulder blades.
“you did so much today,” she whispers near your ear, voice low and steady. “you’re stronger than you think.”
you breathe in, shaky but softer this time, and she kisses your head once more, longer, more lingering. her arms tighten around you, gently locking you into her warmth, making sure you feel held and steady.
you breathe in, shakily but softer this time, and she kisses your head once more, longer, more lingering. her arms tighten around you, gently locking you into her warmth, making sure you feel held and steady.
“my baby,” she whispers finally, quiet and full of something tender, “my strong one.”
you melt into her completely, the last traces of the day fading as her fingers card through your hair, her hum softening into something almost like a lullaby.
sophia looks down at your figure and moved once more, making sure you don’t move from your place on her chest. her hand comes up to your head, fingers sliding gently into your hair, and she starts stroking in slow, steady passes. every movement is unhurried, almost rhythmic, the kind that tells your body it can finally let go.
the room has gone silent except for the soft rustle of the blanket and the faint sound of your breathing. sophia lets out a quiet hum, low in her chest, and you feel the vibration more than you hear it. it settles against your cheek, grounding and warm, like she’s wrapping you in sound as much as in her arms.
her fingertips glide along your scalp, brushing through strands as if memorizing every piece of you. sometimes she switches to using her palm, moving gently over the back of your head, and it makes your muscles loosen one by one. the day feels far away now, slipping out of your reach as her touch fills the space where your thoughts used to race.
she hums again, a little longer this time, the melody soft and simple—something familiar, maybe something she practiced before. it vibrates through your whole body, lulling, steady, patient. she tilts her chin slightly to rest it against the top of your head, letting her breath fall through your hair.
her other hand remains wrapped around your waist, thumb brushing slow lines over your side, tiny movements that never stop, never push. she’s careful with every shift, making sure you don’t lose the comfort you’ve found against her. the blanket rises and falls with each breath she takes, and with each one, you feel your own breathing match hers without thinking.
you don’t talk anymore. not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t need to. your body has gone quiet, heavy in a peaceful way, your cheek pressed securely against her chest. your fingers rest loosely on her sweater, no strength left in them, just a soft hold that says you’re still here.
sophia notices the change instantly. her humming softens, turning into a gentle vibration in her throat. her fingers slow even more, switching to soft pats on the back of your head, each one steady and warm. her thumb sweeps over your temple, slow enough that it feels like the world has shrunk to just that touch.
she lowers her voice into a breath of a whisper, barely a sound. “there you go,” she murmurs, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “just rest, mahal.”
you don’t respond. not with words, not even with a sound—your body simply sinks further into her, your breathing deep and slow now, your weight warm against her like you’ve finally allowed yourself to stop holding everything up.
she doesn’t stop humming. she doesn’t stop touching you. she just keeps her arms around you, steady and calm, as the quiet fills every corner of the room.
——
sophia feels the exact moment your body fully gives in. the last bit of tension leaves your shoulders, your fingers uncurl from her sweater, and your breathing settles into a deeper, slower rhythm. she pauses her humming just long enough to look down at you, her eyes softening the second she realizes you’re drifting.
her hand moves to your cheek again, knuckles brushing delicately across the side of your face. she does it so lightly it feels like a feather passing over your skin. a small smile pulls at her lips, quiet and tender, meant only for you. “you’re really tired, hm?” she whispers, barely letting the words form.
you don’t answer. your eyelashes rest still against your cheeks, not even fluttering now, your chest rising and falling in the slow, peaceful pattern that tells her you’re almost gone. your weight is warm and heavy in her arms, the kind of heaviness that comes only when someone feels safe.
she shifts just a little, sliding down so she can lie back more fully with you on top of her. she keeps one arm snug around your waist so you don’t move, and her other hand returns to your hair, brushing it away from your forehead. her fingertips move in slow, gentle sweeps, as if she’s trying to soothe every thought you didn’t say out loud.
then she starts humming again.
the sound is low and steady, the kind of hum that fills your chest through hers. the melody doesn’t change, doesn’t rush—it’s soft and patient, like she’s singing only for you. each vibration moves through her ribs and into your cheek, lulling you deeper into the calm you’ve been craving all day.
she watches your face closely, the slow flutter of your breaths, the way your mouth relaxes into the smallest pout. she can’t help but lean down and press a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “you did so well today,” she murmurs against your skin. “rest now. have your peace,”
her thumb traces a small, slow circle at your temple, and that’s what finally pulls you under completely.
your breathing evens out into a sleepy rhythm, your hands slack and warm against her. your weight settles fully on her chest, no signs of fighting sleep anymore. you’re gone—soft, peaceful, settled completely in her arms.
sophia lets out a quiet breath, almost a sigh, and tightens her hold just a little. not enough to wake you, just enough to keep you close. she kisses your forehead once more, slower this time, like she’s sealing the moment.
“i love you,” she whispers, barely louder than the hum she slips back into. she keeps it going, soft and steady, her fingers moving through your hair in slow patterns, the room warm and quiet around you both.
she stays like that—holding you, humming for you, keeping you safe—long after you’ve fallen asleep.