Jason knew nightmares. He lived them.

Sometimes they came in flashes—blood, laughter, a crowbar raised too high. Sometimes it was the green-haired freak’s grin burned into the back of his eyelids. But other times, it wasn’t about him at all.

It was you.

You had nightmares too—often. The kind that tore through sleep like a blade. The kind that left you breathless, shaking, undone.

He never needed to ask why. He knew. Your story, your pain—it was carved into you the same way his was.

You were fourteen when it happened. The day your life changed. The day he took everything from you. And ever since, your nightmares had been painted in blood and echoing gunshots. Your parents, the only people you’d ever truly connected with—gone. Ripped away by the same monster who'd once ripped Jason apart too.

Tonight was no different.

You jolted upright, drenched in sweat. Hair stuck to your skin. Shirt clinging to your back. But it wasn’t the discomfort that broke you—it was the memory.

The grief hit like a tidal wave.

Choked, ragged sobs escaped your lips as you curled in on yourself, knees to your chest, hands hiding your face like they could somehow block the images behind your eyes.

Jason woke instantly. One glance and he knew. Nightmare.

No questions. No hesitation.

He sat up and reached for you, strong hands gently grabbing your wrist before pulling you into his lap, tucking your shaking body into his chest like you were made to fit there. One hand cradled the back of your head, fingers in your hair. The other rubbed slow, grounding circles against your spine.

“Shhh,” he whispered, voice husky and low. “It was only a nightmare.” His lips brushed against your temple. “He’s not here. It’s not happening again. You’re safe, baby.”

And even though your sobs didn’t stop—if anything, they grew more raw—Jason didn’t let go. Not for a second.

Because he knew. He knew you were strong. So strong. You carried fire in your soul and iron in your bones, and Jason loved every sharp, unyielding part of you. But on nights like these, when that fire dimmed, when the armor cracked—he became the shield you didn’t know you needed.

And come morning, neither of you would speak of it. But his kisses would linger longer. His words would soften. And the way he looked at you… That would say everything.

Because Jason loved you. Fiercely. Wordlessly. Enough to hold all your broken pieces together until the morning came.