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gentle hands

Simon opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet his. You lean down to kiss him slowly, softly.  When you pull away, Simon speaks, his voice softer now, “I missed this. Just bein’ home, with you.” You smile, a mixture of understanding and love in your eyes. “I missed you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.

Simon arrives home after a particularly tough mission

warnings: none

Ghost found himself recovering from a tough mission, his body weary and spirit longing for a moment of solace. He was on his way home, allowed a short-term leave after the mission went successfully. It was by no means an easy mission, it took a toll on him. He felt more exhausted, more drained, than normal. He just wanted a moment of peace, a moment of quiet, where he could just relax.

When he arrived at the front door of your shared apartment, he took a breath. He fumbled with hands for a moment, pulling his keys out and unlocking the door. He calls out your name as he kicks the door shut, setting his things down on the kitchen counter.

You were in the living room, sitting on the couch in your pajamas, engrossed in a book, the soft hum of music playing in the background. Hearing Simon’s voice, you looked up from the pages and a smile bloomed on your face. You spring up from the couch as he walks into the living room. The sight of him, battle-worn but alive, brought a sense of relief. 

“Hey there, big man,” you said, your voice a comforting melody. Simon turns towards you, a half-smile forming on his lips. His fatigue seemed to momentarily lift as he looked at the smile on your face.

“Hey,” he replied, the weariness evident in his voice. You closed the distance between you, and he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the residue of whatever he was doing on mission slowly melting away in the comfort of your presence.

“Rough one, huh?” you ask, pulling back slightly to look at him. He nods, his eyes revealing a layer of exhaustion.

“Yeah, tougher than usual,” Ghost admitted. “But we got the job done.”

You led him to the couch, and he sank into it with a sigh, his body appreciating the respite. You disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for him. As he took a sip, you studied his features, noting the subtle scars and bruises that adorned his face.

“Anything I can do?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice. Simon shook his head, appreciating the simple offer.

“Just bein’ here ‘s enough,” he replied, setting the glass aside. You sat down beside him, your presence a soothing balm to his aching body. You begin to run your hands down his arms, feeling the tension of his muscles under his clothes.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you question softly, running your hands down his arm and to his hand, squeezing it in your grip.

He tilts his head over towards you, eyes drooping slightly.

“Sounds lovely,” he grunts, nodding his head.

You rose gracefully from the couch, giving Simon’s hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the bathroom. You turned the tap, adjusting the water temperature to perfection, adding a hint of soothing helichrysum oil.

Simon, in the meantime, made his way to the bedroom, peeling off his tactical gear and clothes, revealing a body marked by the trials of combat. He finally slips his mask off, folding it neatly on top of his pile of clothes. He took a deep breath as he heard the water cascading into the tub. The scent of helichrysum wafted through the air, a fragrant promise of relaxation.

When everything was ready, you returned to him, gently guiding him towards the bathroom. The steam from the bath enveloped him as he sank into the warm water, the tension in his muscles slowly dissipating. You perch on the edge of the tub, watching him with tenderness and slight concern. 

As Simon closed his eyes, surrendering to the comforting embrace of the bath, you dipped a washcloth into the water and began to delicately clean the black paint from around his eyes. The touch of your hands was gentle, a welcome contrast from roughing it on base. 

“I appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. 

A warm smile appears on your face as you carefully pour warm water over his head, letting it cascade down his hair and down his neck. Simon closes his eyes, feeling the comforting touch of the water against his scalp.

As you began to work shampoo through Simon’s hair, your fingers massaging his scalp, Simon let out a contented sigh. The stress and exhaustion of the mission slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of peace. Your gentle hands made him feel cared for, safe. 

“You deserve this,” you replied softly. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

The bathroom was filled with a soothing silence, broken only by the sound of water trickling and your quiet breaths. Your touch is tender, each stroke of your hands carrying a touch of affection. Simon relished in the simplicity of the moment, the way you were so gentle with him.

Simon opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet his. You lean down to kiss him slowly, softly. 

When you pull away, Simon speaks, his voice softer now, “I missed this. Just bein’ home, with you.”

You smile, a mixture of understanding and love in your eyes. “I missed you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.

Once the bath has worked its magic, you help Simon to his feet, helping him wrap a plush towel around his waist. The scent of the bath oil lingered on his skin, a comforting reminder of the care you’d provided for him. The two of you returned to the bedroom, where a set of fresh clothes awaited him.

Simon changed into sweats and a soft t-shirt, a welcome change from his heavy tactical gear. He settles onto the bed, groaning with relief as his back hits the mattress. You giggle as he lays silently in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Just as you’re about to grab a cup of tea, Simon is grabbing your wrist tightly, pulling you back towards the bed. 

“‘M sleepy,” he complains. “Can’t sleep very well without you.”

You lean down to kiss him on the cheek, gently pulling your wrist from his grip. 

“I’m just going to get you a cup of tea—”

“No, ‘ve already gotten enough princess treatment from you—” he grunts, sitting up from his position to manhandle you into bed with him. 

You sigh in defeat, arms coming to wrap around his neck as he pulls you on top of him. His hands travel up from your thighs to your waist, pulling you tight against him. He only removes his hands from you for a quick second to pull the covers up on the bed. 

The warmth of the bed enveloped both of you as you settled into the cozy cocoon of blankets. Simon’s weariness was evident, yet his grip on you was firm, as if afraid that if he let go, the world would pull him back into its relentless demands.

You chuckled at his antics, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You're stubborn, you know that?”

“Only to you,” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his hands still holding you close.

You snuggled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the ambient sounds of the night outside. Simon’s exhaustion seemed to ebb away as he held you, finding solace in the simple act of being close.

You traced circles on his chest, your fingers moving rhythmically as if to lull him into a peaceful slumber. Simon’s gaze softened as he looked down at you.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice a gentle murmur, “coming home to you is the best part of any mission.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words. “And having you here is the best part of my day.”

He smiled, a genuine, tired smile. Simon’s hands traced gentle patterns on your back. The lines of fatigue on his face were replaced by an expression of peacefulness, a quiet acknowledgment that, for now, the battles were outside and the peace was within.

“Tea can wait,” Simon mumbled, his eyes heavy with sleep.

You nodded, snuggling even closer. “Go to sleep, my big sleepy man.”

And with that, the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber, finding refuge in the sanctuary of your bedroom, happy to be reunited once more.

Small romance things that make me go FERAL

A very totally incredibly non-delulu list by Writerthreads

arm/shoulder/waist/SMALL OF THE BACK touches

HANDS BRUSHING, BUT TOO NERVOUS TO DO ANYTHING MORE

calling them by their name ("What's your opinion on this, X?") (they way they say their name makes their heart do funny things)

the way their voice goes heavy/breathy

CHIN RESTS ON THEIR SHOULDER

whispering into their ear and the way their breath tickles

non-affectionate nicknames just for them

recognising their laugh and trying to make them laugh just to hear it again

little private smirks/winks, watching their reaction when someone makes a joke

sniffing their hair/recognising their on their shampoo

eye contact so deep they feel like sinking

SMALL PECKS ON THE CORNER OF THEIR MOUTH/CHIN/FOREHEAD

recognising the sound of their footsteps

co-existing in the same space, acknowledging their presence and feeling safe

CARESSING THEIR CHEEK WITH THEIR THUMB

recognising their nervous ticks and comforting them, like putting a hand on their bouncing leg

tracing scars, freckles, moles, lines of their muscle, you name it (SCREAMS)

grinning when they blush

watching with pride as the other does a presentation/leads a mission/takes charge

making up private signals for each other

HAND KISSES

NECK KISSES

playing with their hair/brushing their hair/braiding their hair

Ah, love. That lingering warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. I love love.

may this kind of love find me

I love how if you romance Cullen, he has two voices. The Commander voice that he uses to talk to his troops and everyone else, and then the soft, totally in love voice he reserves just for you.

Showing 'Exhaustion' in Writing

Heavy eyelids, struggling to stay open.

Slumping shoulders, barely able to hold themselves up.

Dragging feet with each step.

Speaking in a slow, slurred manner.

Dark circles under the eyes.

Yawning frequently and deeply.

Head nodding forward, trying to stay awake.

Leaning heavily against walls or furniture.

Rubbing eyes and face with hands.

Deep, weary sighs escaping lips.

Wincing at bright lights or loud sounds.

Staring blankly ahead, unable to focus.

Weak, unsteady movements.

Muttering incoherently to themselves.

Falling asleep in unusual places.

Lack of response or delayed reactions.

Propping their head up with their hand.

Collapsing onto the nearest available surface.

Swaying slightly on their feet.

Barely lifting their head to speak or listen.

unspoken feelings prompts

“i wish i could tell you how i really feel.”

“sometimes, the silence says more than words ever could.”

“if only you knew what goes on in my mind when i look at you.”

“i keep my feelings hidden because I’m afraid of what might happen if you knew.”

„every time I see you, my heart aches with things left unsaid.”

“i wonder if you can sense how much you mean to me.”

“there’s so much I want to say, but I can’t find the right words.”

“you have no idea how hard it is to act like everything is normal.”

“every smile, every laugh, it’s all a cover for what I really feel inside.”

“sometimes, i catch myself staring at you, wishing things were different.”

“i wish you could read my mind, so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud.”

“there are a thousand things I want to tell you, but I can’t.”

“if you ever found out, it might ruin everything.”

“every time i’m near you, my heart screams what my lips can’t.”

“i hope one day i’ll have the courage to tell you how i really feel.”

biker!Ghost 1 1 , 2 , 3 , 3.5

tag your traumatized man comfort character

one of my favorite things about dragon age romances is the varying Flavors™️ of emotional damage they feed you near the end of each game.

for instance, lucanis dellamorte is here to slay your enemies and burn down the world if it even looks at you the wrong way. "i thought i would never see you again," he quietly tells rook, and there is regret in every one of those words. "if i have to kill every blighted creature in thedas to keep you safe, i will. my heart beats for you," he promises.

meanwhile altar-boi cullen rutherford is a DISASTER who literally falls to his knees before a statue of his god. he is seeking SPIRITUAL ABSOLUTION from the divine bc the very idea of putting you into harm's way is unforgivable, and then he breaks his prayer to murmur, "when the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again. andraste preserve me, i must send you to him. whatever happens, you will come back. allow me this. to believe anything else would… i can't."

my god, the buffet. these men are absolutely pathetic. i would DIE for them.

The Avengers 2012 era was the best time ever in the fandom

Thor loves pop tarts, Clint lived in the vents, Bruce and Tony did science together, Steve was the mom friend of the team and did art in his free time, Natasha was cool aunt of the team, Loki was there too and a bunch of other characters like Peter, Sam, Bucky, Vision and Wanda all lived in the Avengers tower together

It was a much simpler time where everyone in the fandom was chill and having fun together