#fluff/comfort

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

“A Strange Little World”- Loki x Reader

As the walls of duty and destiny close in around you and your secret lover, Loki proposes that you wash your hands of it all and start your own palace of dreams out in the realms.

Pairing: Loki x Asgardian!F!Reader Content Warning: sexism, forced marriage, military conscription, Odin is a massive c**t, some lusty thoughts, mostly longing and comfort fluff Word Count: 5.1k

You liked to ‘play house’ with Loki, but it didn’t mean the same thing to you that it would to other couples.

Whereas the mere mention of the game for most would conjure images of naughty romping and playacting in the buff, for two good little citizens of Asgard’s elite, it was a bit more literal than that for you.

Your lives were already so chaotic, with expectations raining down upon you like hot stones, forcing you to duck one way and leap another every waking second. Loki, as a prince of the realm, was moved around by his family and tutors like a pawn on a chessboard. He was kept constantly on his feet with everything from physical training to seidr sessions, diplomacy lessons, holding court, touring the front lines, etc. Odin had even begun to parade possible brides before his second son, evidently refusing to accept your rank as worthy of the royal family. 

For your part, you were also being tossed about the whipping winds of life as a courtier. Finishing school had been rough enough, but your quest to join the Valkyries had only just borne fruit. Alas, this was against your father’s wishes to marry you off instead. Your days were spent doing everything in your power to convince your family to release you from a marriage contract made to a distant cousin years ago in order to join the elite team of fighters. 

Not to mention, Odin considered Valkyries to be worthy of a prince’s hand.

What you never understood was how Odin, in his supposedly infinity wisdom, couldn’t foresee that allowing two youths to run around as playmates in childhood could possibly lead to a romance as adulthood took hold. As children, you and Loki joked about what you would name your own sons and daughters. When you both began to realize the jokes were turning into sincere wishes for your future, it all changed forever. Odin began eyeing you with suspicion and disdain where he once smiled with fatherly affection. He’d outright rejected your suit when Loki brought it to proposal.

Once it became all but apparent that your affectionate interludes with Prince Loki were temporary at best, you refused to give in to it. Instead, you began meeting in secret, which was easier than imagined for a Prince and his muse, for behind the armoire in his bedchamber was a hidden door, which led to a small winding staircase. The hidden passage led to a cozy sitting room with only a few chairs, a table, and a fainting sofa over by the window. The room was trimmed in gold, the walls a faded, light green. Perhaps once it had been used for the same purpose it now was, but for one of Loki’s own ancestors (you only hoped they approved of you more than the Allfather did).

Nothing brought you or your princely lover more joy than to sit in his private parlor and regale one another about your stressful days bowing to the whims of the Allfather’s court. Thus, like a married pair, you chose to sneak away after supper each night to Loki’s chamber to have dessert and tea, and to pretend that the hard, demanding world outside his window wasn’t there, perhaps dissolved away in an after-storm fog. Perhaps his sitting room was flying through the clouds, up, up, and away from Asgard…

The lovemaking was always sublime, but even at your quietest, sipping tea and sharing a slice of pastry, you were in paradise as long as he was beside you. You hung on Loki’s every word, no matter what he was describing or how well you understood it. In return, he smiled and took your hand whenever you expressed your own fears for your future. 

“Like a husband and wife,” Loki had tenderly whispered once, a grateful smile unrolling like a banner across his lips. “I cannot tell anyone else what I express to you every night with perfect ease.” 

You and Loki did what no one else in any of the nine realms bothered to do: you listened to one another. Loki wove a tapestry of emotion, conflict, and dreams whenever he spoke.  Even describing the most mundane of daily activities was like listening to a sonnet. He observed the world differently from most people. His mind was beautiful (as was the rest of him). If only his wonderful thoughts weren’t wasted on unreceptive ears like the King’s. 

Additionally, it was obvious that he found your own rambling monologue like the preface to a grand story in which he just had to immerse himself. Whether you were bemoaning your betrothal plans or how itchy your ceremonial robes were, he drank in your every word like a rich, intoxicating wine. 

However, not every night was for unloading your troubles. Some nights, like the one you presently found yourself in, were for fantasy. You and Loki had just finished making love in his bed, and now you were wrapped only in his bedsheets and sitting in his secret room, waiting for dessert to be delivered. Loki had only covered his lap for the sake of the servant when he came with tea. 

“Did you take the contraceptive I sent?” he asked once the servant left. 

“Of course,” you replied, sighing to yourself. “I always do.”  Of course precautions would be necessary if you were to continue sleeping with the Prince, but it sometimes drove home a fact that gave you great sorrow: one day soon, someone would be proudly carrying Loki’s heirs, and it wouldn’t be you. 

He sat back in his chair and spread his legs apart, rendering the small lap blanket he’d halfheartedly covered himself with entirely useless. He looked out the window into the fading summer light with a dreamy gaze in his eye. “I’ve been thinking, and I don't like Henrik for a boy after all.” 

You rolled your eyes and reached for the teapot, at least until Loki instantly sat up in order to get to it and pour your cup before you could do it yourself. “Thank you,” you said softly, taking a sip of the hot, floral tea, letting its mellow aroma settle your nerves for a moment before adding your thoughts. “And I told you before I won’t EVER allow a child of mine to be named…ergh…Henrik.” 

Loki gave a hearty chortle as he reached for a handful of candied pecans from a small bowl. “Too common for my Princess’ babe, is it?”

“Too common for a stable raker,” you retorted. After a moment of silence, you added, “Out of curiosity, do you have anything better in mind?”

“There are hundreds of names worthy of a child of the royal family,” answered Loki, popping two nuts into his mouth and taking a moment to chew and swallow them before carrying on. “However, there are far fewer names worthy of a child of ours.”

You wanted to move forward with your scenario, naming your offspring, planning your household, raising your future higher than it could ever be in truth. However, you had something you needed to tell him now, before anything got too difficult for you to say. 

“My father has summoned Birger for the official betrothal,” you blurted out, causing Loki to startle and put down his tea cup with a little too much force. “He says he shall arrive tomorrow.” 

He scoffed, leaning back again in clear disapproval. “Does your dear father know that marrying one’s cousin is nothing short of repulsive?”

“You know he is of the old ways, he knows most disapprove of his plans,” you said sadly, looking at your reflection in the cup before you, a single tear falling suddenly from your eye and landing in the middle of the brown liquid. “But that still doesn’t save me from it!” 

Loki grunted like a frustrated boy, biting his lip to keep from letting the entirety of his unflattering judgements loose on you. He was still your father, after all, and Asgardian custom always demanded respect from one’s children. But something was occurring to him: an idea slowly coming into focus behind his eyes. 

You’d expected him to say something by now. “Loki? Darling? What is it?”

“It suddenly makes sense,” he answered, leaning over the table and extending his arms out to you, open-palmed hands asking for yours. “My dear, I’m afraid they’re plotting deliberately against us, your father and mine both.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked, gasping with surprise as you folded your hands into his from the other side of the table. 

“Odin informed me over breakfast today that I am to serve my military conscription, beginning four days hence.”

“No!” you nearly shouted. “Please at least say he’s sending you to Vanaheim or Alfheim--”

“--regrettably, Thor and I are both being shipped like common rats off to Svartalfheim. There’s rustling in the air of an invasion.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. 

For you, the tears came more freely now. “But it’s dangerous there! You could die on the front against the Dark Elves!”

Loki shrugged. “Even Odin wouldn’t sacrifice his sons so thoughtlessly. We will be fighting from the tents, my darling, please believe me.” 

“So, the King is sending you away to fight at the same time I am to be formally engaged,” you realized. “Tearing us apart forever.”

Loki squeezed your hand as his skin turned cool. “A mandatory conscription is for ten moon cycles,” he reminded you. “You will be wed by the time I return.”

“And you can’t get out of your duty?” you asked frantically. “You’re a Prince! Use your privilege to revoke it!”

He shook his head and brought your right hand to his lips, where he placed a sweet, tender, sad kiss on your fingers. “Desertion is death, even for one such as I.” 

“Then what are we to do?” 

He shrugged, at a loss as much as you were. “I have no idea, I’m afraid.” 

After a moment’s awkward pause as you contemplated your dilemma, Loki added, “And your cotillion, which I presume your father will hold with all the appropriate pomp?”

“The day after tomorrow.” 

Loki looked over his shoulder, toward the setting sun in the window, which cast orange beams of light about the room behind your heads, giving the room a peaceful glow as night set in. “Truly, I thought Thor would have at least had his engagement gala by now with Sif. Meanwhile, I’d only imagined my own with you.”

You bit on your lower lip to keep it from trembling. 

“However,” he went on, running his thumb casually over your knuckles, “I can imagine they are a rather dull affair. After all, every debutante ball I’ve been dragged by the ankles to witness has had the energy and excitement of an execution. A betrothal ceremony and celebration can hardly be better, can it?”

“As if that sentiment helps how I feel,” you mumbled. 

You tore your hands from Loki’s grip, getting up from the chair and going over to the window, your back to Loki. After a moment, you sensed him moving in behind you before wrapping his arms around your belly, swinging you softly back and forth. 

“You know it’s a crime to turn your back on your sovereign, Princess,” he said, his deep, gentle tone mismatching his words. 

“Sadly, you aren’t my sovereign. Odin is,” you whispered, barely audible even to him. “And it seems to me that he has us like flies on his web.”

Loki’s mind was floating away the more he touched your warm body. “How lovely the sunset is tonight, chasing the fog away. Wouldn’t it be divine to walk down to the orchards on the edge of the city to watch it from the rolling knolls?”

You smiled and closed your eyes, losing yourself in fantasy. “I can almost hear Juni and Vali giggling and running around one of the fruit trees. Vali always tries to steal a lemon to throw around at her, the rascal!” 

A moment of silence. “Juni?”

You turned your head, jerked out of your luxurious inner tableau. “Yes, Juni.” 

“Vali is considerable,” Loki admitted, “But Juni? Is our daughter a cat?”

You giggled as Loki’s silly ramble reached a climax. “Can you see her debut? ’Now announcing to the court and the Nine Realms…Her Royal Highness, Princess Juni of Asgard?!’” His mock horror nearly brought you to your knees in laughter. “I’d sooner name her Thora.” 

You turned around, facing your Loki and slowly cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Maybe we should stop this. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Juni will never be. Nor will Vali or any other of our ghost-children.”

“Ghosts are dead,” Loki stopped you, leaning into your cheek and shutting his eyes. “Our children are merely yet-to-be.” 

“Never to be,” you corrected him, leaving the pair of you in depressed silence for minutes until he broke it with a kiss and a sigh. 

“I should leave you,” you said, your eyes flooding with hot tears again. “Maybe it will be better if we never see each other again.” 

He looked hurt by your decision, even frightened. “I can’t do that. I want to spend our last hours together in your arms and weaving our false hopes together in this strange little world we’ve made together.” 

“Tell that to your father, and mine,” you snapped back, turning away again, not wanting for him to see you break down entirely. “It would make the separation even more difficult for us if we don’t just ignore one another until you leave for the front lines.”

After yet another uncomfortable pause, you felt Loki put a hand on your shoulder. It felt cold. 

“Perhaps so,” he finally agreed. “But if you ever need me, I’ll come to you before your heart beats again.” 

With nothing to say that wasn’t an outpouring of pleas and love, you quickly abandoned him in his secret closet, crestfallen and lonely once more. You didn’t make it back to your rooms in the palace, needing to hide behind a statue of Allfather Bor to hide your sobs.

Your father, Njord, was descended from one of the lesser branches of the Asgardian elite families. No royal blood to speak of flowed through your veins, but just enough nobility to warrant membership of the highest social class, and some degree of access to the court and King. 

There was also just enough prestige in your lineage to call for a formal debutante ball when you reached majority, as well as a formal engagement cotillion to acknowledge the arrival of your bridegroom, complete with a banquet barge that spent the day floating carelessly in circles around the palace moat. 

Njord, social climber he was, spared no expense for the revelries in order to show off the little status he held, going so far as to dare to extend an invitation to the royal family themselves. The barge was decked in your family colors: sapphire blue and silver, in the form of perhaps a few too many banners and garlands. You thought the decorations were so many that the yacht could sink under the added weight. 

You were arrayed in the finest sapphire silk your parents could find, which, as it turned out, was merely a gown borrowed from a relative who’d never worn it. Still, between the soft, clingy fabric and the shimmering silver family crest hanging at your throat, you were a radiant sight. 

Traditionally, the barge made three laps around the palace without the bridegroom on board. On the third go-around, he would embark and make a presentation before you and your parents, after which the boat would continue circling all afternoon as everyone aboard flooded their minds with wine. Those first three laps took nearly an hour to complete, and each second that passed, each inch that was sailed, you grew more and more nauseated. 

You may as well have jumped into the water. You were already drowning in a sea of insincerity, lost in waves of mindless chatter about dish patterns. Meanwhile, your soul floated above your head, looking for Loki in each window of the castle, wondering which room he sulked in. Was he watching as your yacht floated by? Was he trying to get a good look at you in your dress? Or did he turn away and flinch as you rode past? 

Birger and his mother, a widow with a perpetually-puckered lip, boarded without incident as the barge made a temporary berth at the palace gate. He was dressed in matching color to yours, his shiny blonde hair swept back into a bun, a gold chain obscured by a few to many ruffles at the neck. He was handsome, but his big brown eyes looked somewhat vacant, as if he was only partially aware of his surroundings. Or perhaps, he was looking for you. 

Led along a red carpet, Birger and his sour-faced mother bowed at the waist before you and your parents, beginning the formal engagement ceremony, 

“My father-to-be,” mumbled the hapless groom, “I am here to present myself as a suitor for--”

Trumpets sounded suddenly from within the palace in the musical chord that always announced the approach of the Allfather. It was so well-known that everyone turned and bowed at the knee in reflex, aside from yourself and Birger, who was still standing dumbfoundedly in front of you. 

“It can’t be!” exclaimed Njord excitedly. “Y/N! Bow! The Allfather is here!” 

Odin sauntered regally to the barge with his usual entourage following adoringly behind. The King was flanked on each side by his sons. Thor wore his usual light armor and red cape, looking as dashing and prideful as he ever was. 

Loki, of course, had dressed himself as formally as possible, wearing every piece of princely insignia he owned, flaunting his rank like a peacock’s tail. His dark green jacket was buttoned to the chin and had nary a wrinkle. He’d braided his hair in a rope down the back of his neck, a style he knew all too well that you adored. Over his chest laid a gold sash tied at the hip, and around his legs were black trousers lined at the hem with gold trim. He even wore the tiny gold earring studs you once gifted him with for Jol. 

You wanted him. You needed him. And he knew this ceremonial outfit of his drove you wild. 

You scoundrel, you thought to yourself, your eyes unable to detach from his image as he drew closer. 

“Lord Njord of the Westlands,” Odin called out, his booming voice going against what would otherwise have been expected from his old man’s frame, “I greet you in jubilation at the engagement of your only daughter, and my sons and I hope to join you in your revelries this afternoon!” 

Njord looked about to urinate. “I…ugh….YES YOUR HIGHN--”

“--we greet you most humbly and invite you to our feast!” interrupted your mother, much more calm. “We are honored by your attention, Allfather!”

“Then let the festivities continue!” Odin declared with joviality. A cheer rang up from everyone aside from yourself, your intended, and your soul mate. You and Loki were tense and sorrowful. Birger was nervous now that his presentation would be witnessed by the most powerful man in the Nine. 

The royal procession moved onto the barge, and once the boat sailed once more, Birger was invited to continue his formal proposal. He had come with a poem of his own creation: a simple, four-lined stanza about marriage that didn’t even rhyme. Afterward, he took out a lyre and began stroking out a painfully simple song that was traditionally taught to children as a first assignment at a music lesson. Loki was cringing from the stern of the boat, near a door that led down into the hull. You tried hard to stifle a giggle, and the urge to reject the man right out only grew as the insipid ballad went into third and fourth reprises. 

You were so distracted that Njord had to recite your line for you after the presentation was (finally!) finished: “My daughter accepts your suit, and four cycles hence, you will wed before the Allfather and share in your joys and sorrows until the end of time.” 

Your sadness reached an apex when you realized that not only would Loki be away for ten cycles, but with your wedding so soon, you could be well into a pregnancy by the time he returned, and what image would that be with which to greet your soul mate? 

Another cheer rang up, but your nausea was making your face turn hot, and you only had a moment to absorb the event before the world turned to watercolor before you, and you sank to your knees. In your stupor, you could hear a few gasps, your mother calling your name, and a few scuttling feet. 

Taking off like a shot, Loki got to you first in spite of the distance between you, using his godlike speed to ensure that he would be the one scooping you up instead of your fiance. 

No matter, he was still standing on the red carpet, dumbfounded, a string having snapped on his lyre. 

Loki ran with you into the hull, slamming the door behind him and seeking out anything on which to lay you down. He came across a cushioned bench under a porthole, and as soon as he set you down, you came back, smiling at the view of his face. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t eat this morning out of nerves.” 

“Understandable, Princess,” Loki muttered sweetly, taking your hand in both of his, closing them around yours as if they held a precious jewel inside that needed to be protected. “You should know that this was all Odin’s doing. He’s trying to motivate me to turn my back on you by bringing me here.”

“I thought so.”

He went on. “Yesterday, he tried to tell me that you were excitedly preparing for your wifely duties with your…cousin. When I didn’t believe him, he forced Thor and I to attend the party today, as if rubbing my nose in your engagement would rend my love from me!”

Loki leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Do you need water, love?”

You nodded, even as the haze around your vision faded and your senses returned. 

“Have another fetch it then, and leave us.” 

Odin’s darker, authoritative voice was enough to force Loki to stand at attention, conditioned to do so from the first day he toddled upright. He’d followed you below decks. 

Loki looked at you with concern, but you replied by stubbornly shaking off his offered arm as you got to your feet. “It’s okay, love,” you said to Loki. “I presume the Allfather wishes to personally congratulate me on my engagement.”

“Indeed, and to see to your health, of course,” Odin replied with a frown, looking expectantly at Loki again. This time, upon hearing your release, Loki defiantly kissed your brow again before looking his father in the face, brushing past him angrily to go upstairs. 

After he was certain that Loki was gone, Odin turned back to you. You did give him a small curtsy. “I am glad to see you on your feet again,” remarked Odin. “Tis a pity to see a bride fall ill at her own cotillion.” 

You didn’t answer him with words, instead refusing to look him in the eye deliberately. 

Odin went on. “Of course, it is the proper course of action for you to move forward with the marriage, and I am glad to see you obeying your call to be a wife.” 

Again, you refused him a reply, shifting your feet uncomfortably, wishing Loki would return with water for you. 

“You would have made a poor valkyrie,” he continued, musing as if it weren’t an insult but a mere fact, “You lack the discipline and swiftness. I’m unsure why Brunnhilde accepted your bid at all. Perhaps it was a kindness.” 

“Because she knew after I was inducted, you’d have no further excuse to refuse my suit,” you finally replied. “She and I are friends enough that she knows my heart.”

“I am the King of Asgard, I need no excuse to refuse any suitors who wish to taint my son’s lineage with their common blood!” 

You shrunk back a little, genuinely hurt. 

“You will both come to realize in time that I am only doing what is right. Your cousin is a suitable husband. Perhaps if you agree to end this silly affair with my son, I will double the worth of your wedding gift in gratitude.” 

You scoffed and ignored the bribe. “So tainting Loki’s lineage with my blood is a mortal sin, yet tainting my own with incest is not a crime?” you asked incredulously. “My King, your logic repulses me. Please execute me instead.” 

Odin didn’t seem to expect this. “Well, being so rash would hardly be appropriate here.” 

You nodded, rolling your eyes and completely losing your decorum. “I should have known a creature with no heart wouldn’t understand!” 

In the heat of the moment, you put your life on the line to brush past Odin, turning your back on him and immediately running back into the open air. 

Loki was not far from you, but you didn’t move toward him, instead running to the ship’s railing and looking over the side. The moat wasn’t particularly deep, but no one, not even your father, knew you could swim. 

Maybe, I could--

Turning back to Loki, running toward you full-tilt, you winked at him before leaping over the railing in one move. Your sapphire silk flew up behind you like a banner as you dove headfirst into the moat, swimming around the bend and out of sight. 

You didn’t hear the splash from behind as Loki executed a perfect swan-dive in after you. 

Moving quickly, you were able to find a small portion of the moat’s edge where you could hoist your body onto the side without climbing. By then, the barge was on the other side of the palace and wouldn’t be due to double back for nearly an hour. 

Still, you could hear the chaotic shouts for you calling out from behind, and you quickly snuck behind a bush in order to wring out your soaked dress. You didn’t want to wait too long, and you were able to sneak your way out of town without being noticed or taken for anyone other than a soaking-wet maid in a ruined ceremonial dress dashing toward the beach. 

The shores of Asgard were littered with waterfalls that poured out into the open sea. You hid behind one, tucked in a small cavern in the rock, waiting for Loki to come to you. There, no one else would find you and drag you home. However, you’d been here with Loki before. He knew the significance of the spot. He only needed to bide his time until he could slip away from Odin’s attention.

Father will whip me for hours for this, and then move up the wedding to tomorrow, you thought woefully. 

The sun began its afternoon descent, and while you could occasionally hear guards and search parties calling out from the sandy shore, no one thought to look behind any of the cascades for you, and by teatime, it sounded like they’d given up or moved on. You were beginning to get cold, wondering if you would have to find a room in an inn for the night. Hopefully, no one would recognize you…

Fortunately, when the faint green glow of seidr began to split the falls open from the middle outward, just before the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew Loki had found you, and just in time. 

There he stood, about ten feet below you on the shore giving you a dry spot to climb down the cliffside. He held a horse’s reins in his free hand, and the huge white stallion he had in his captivity was saddled and antsy to run. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized as you fell into his arms. “I swam after you, but you try getting past an entire city of people when you're Prince. Plus, I had a few things to gather for our ride.”

“Ride?” you asked, wiping away a tear with your closed fist awkwardly. 

He nodded with a wink and a sneaky grin that was laced with excitement. “I think after today, we’ve both had enough of this nonsense, haven’t you?”

You smiled and stepped up to pet the beautiful creature on the snout. It leaned into your hand with a gentle exhale, indicating his contentment. 

“Indeed.” 

He helped you onto the horse, and then took his place in front of you at the reins. You’d never ridden before, and so you wrapped your arms tightly around Loki’s waist, which made him chuckle. 

“Normally, I would protest that this was too tight a grip. However, it being you…you may hold me even closer if you can manage it.”

At first, you maintained a death-grip on him as you began riding off along the beach, away from the palace. Quickly, however, your trust of Loki and relief that you were putting distance between yourself and your intended gave you confidence, and only after a few minutes, you began to relax. 

“Loki, when will we return to Asgard? Tomorrow?”

He brought your hand up to his lips, where he took a moment to kiss every finger. Each touch of his soft lips against your skin sent tiny bolts of lightning up your arm and down your spine. 

“I was thinking, perhaps, my sweet Princess, that we would never return to Asgard. Let us find a new plot of land and make ourselves the King and Queen of it!” 

“But your conscription!” you protested. “You cannot submit yourself to the axe on my account.” 

“I won’t,” he insisted. “My projection will, however, be most glad to lose his head on our behalf.”

You rode vigorously along the coastline for a few miles until the sun was setting over the watery horizon, when you slowed to a trot, convinced that you weren’t being pursued by Odin or your father and Birger. Asgard itself was no longer visible behind you, and only the faint glow of the city’s hazy aura polluting the indigo sky indicated its continued existence. 

“Loki, my love?”

“Yes, Princess?” he cooed back, squeezing your hand affectionately before returning it to the reigns. 

There was nothing but the beach and sky before you for as far as you could see. “Do you…do you know where we’re going?”

A brief pause. You couldn’t see it from behind him on the saddle, but you knew Loki was grinning. 

“Of course not, my dear. But isn’t that the best part of all?” 

I'm back and revitalized (and married)! :D I hope you enjoyed my little return fic! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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[estellxli]

Banana (Kazuha x Reader)

It was just an afternoon, like any other, with the winds blowing a soothing tune from the outside. The room warmed from the invited sun. A piece of ham plops into the sizzling pan accompanied by another. With a spatula in one hand, Kazuha’s thoughts drift elsewhere.

His brows furrows and the grip on the spatula tightens. The heat coming from the pan did not compare to the rage building inside him. He mindlessly flips the two hams over and takes a deep breath. Maintaining a cool mind. Nonetheless, if any of his suspicions were true he would—

The kettle's loud angry scream drowns out the sizzling; disturbing Kazuha with his thoughts. 

His hands move to put out the fire, for both the pan and the kettle, and grabs an empty plate. The spatula transferring the ham to the porcelain plate. Kazuha moves swiftly in the kitchen , preparing sweets, sliced cheese and a newly made sandwich all placed in a wooden tray. 

He grabs the now calmed kettle and works his way into making a matcha latte. One that he bought after arriving back in Inazuma from his trip with Beidou. Apparently, it helps in menstrual pain, something about an acid that helps relax the muscles of the uterus… or something along those lines that a saleslady said to him. 

Kazuha makes way to your bedroom with the wooden tray in his hands. He uses the door ajar to his advantage, his foot placed in between the space created by the door and the wall and using his hip to open the door wider. 

You were on the bed just the same as he left the room. All curled up in the blanket like a pita pocket. 

“Y/N.”

You turn to him, with your head barely popping out of the thick fabric. The corner of your lips immediately turn into a big smile as you squeal. Cries from your insides all momentarily gone as you sit up and excitedly pat the empty side of the bed. 

All because of Kazuha. 

… 

Mostly because of the food. 

Your boyfriend chuckles at your childish actions. You eyed at the wooden tray as you felt the bed embrace his weight. The chocolates are your first pick. 

Kazuha’s eyes remained on the bruise that stained your skin as you took a bite of the chocolate. Lips still curled upwards while chewing. 

“Is it to your liking?”

“Very.”

His eyes drop on the tray, noticing the ripples of the matcha. “Here, try this one too, I heard it helps with the cramps?”. 

You grab the chawan cup from his hands, nodding at his warning that it's still hot. The matcha warms your insides, something that the hot compress laying at your stomach couldn't do. 

Kazuha gulps. 

“Y/N”

“Hm?” You look at him innocently, palms still embracing the warm cup. 

“Is someone bullying you?”

Your doed eyes turn into confusion.

“Look, if someone ever tries to harm you, you know you can always come to me. I'll burn them with hot iron, slice —”

You chuckle at him, his turn now to be confused. You chuckle even when you hear the seriousness in his voice. When he's offering help and protection. 

“Kazuha, no one is harming me. Whatever makes you think that?” you say as you place down the cup

“Your bruises.” he says, soft and stern altogether. 

“Ah… that.” you stare at the bruise painting your skin, and you giggle even more. 

You turn your eyes into another direction and cover your lips to stifle the laughter, but you couldn't help it.

“Sorry, sorry.. it's just.. pfft…”

You look back at him, your lips still smiling. 

“I promise no one is harming me. I mean that genuinely. It's just that… I bruise very easily whenever I'm on my period.”

Kazuha’s brows furrow even more into confusion. 

“I'm serious!... Every woman has different symptoms when they're on their period. Some don't feel cramps, some do to the extent of fainting. Women bruising easily isn't common, but they exist.”

“I see.” 

Kazuha’s confused state now returns to his usual one. He raises his hands and hides his chin over his index. 

“Mhm!” you exclaim happily with the misunderstanding out of the way. 

He looks back at you and smiles, his hands now reaching for a piece of chocolate. 

“For you to bruise easily like that, you're practically like a banana.” he chuckingly teased. 

“A what!?”

Kazuha grins, carefully shoving the chocolate into your opened lips as he mouths, 

“A banana"

[nabinochu]

Treasure

. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

All my writing is just super self-indulgent atp lol, I only really write if I'm in need of comfort. So here is some Mammon comfort centred around the loss of a loved one.

(Treasure was a nickname my Gran had for me, so imagining Mammon using it makes me all kinds of emo)

Characters: Mammon (Obey Me)

Genre: Fluff/ Comfort

Warnings: None

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

"My Treasure."

As the words left Mammon's grinning lips, my heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my chest. I didn't even realise my eyes were welling up until the tears had already fallen onto my cheeks and Mammon rushed towards me. He enveloped me in his arms, stuttering variations of "what's wrong" and "m'sorry". He cooed and swayed slightly, kissing the top of my head and swiping his thumb gently across my cheeks to catch my tears.

"I didn't mean ta upset ya." He all but whispered. "I won't say it again."

"No!" I lifted my head with a jolt to look into his eyes. "It- it's…it's OK. I like it. It's just, "Treasure" is what they used to call me…" I trailed off, feeling more tears flooding my vision. Realisation hit Mammon all at once. He squeezed me lightly and pulled my face into his neck.

"C'mere. M'sorry baby. I know it ain't easy, missing someone. I can't bring 'em back. But I can hold ya, Treasure." He paused to kiss my temple.

"My Treasure."

His hand trailed slowly up and down my back, stopping every so often to rub circles. I felt my heart rate slow in his arms. I breathed in his scent and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. As I did, I felt him stiffen for a second before relaxing again. I couldn't help the smile that bloomed across my face at his bashfulness.

"Thank you, Mammon."

. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

[nabateaprodigy]

This is a strange request, hopefully not too strange to do, but can I request an x reader with Shuichi, Kokichi, K1-B0, and Rantaro (all separate) with a gender neutral reader who holds onto a locket with a music box inside of it for comfort, only to get upset one day when they lose said locket?

The locket idea is inspired by the Star Locket from Sailor Moon, hopefully this request won't be too hard for you to do!

Music and Stars

Series: Danganronpa.

Characters: Shuichi, Kokichi, K1-B0, and Rantaro.

Genre: Fluff/Comfort.

Proofread: Yes.

Reader: Gender Neutral.

Notes: Apologies I've written this request In the style of headcannons like I've done with other requests similar to this. School is starting again for me soon and I've just been tired and stressed about it starting. So my time for getting requests done will probably slow down. However in the future, if you wish I can rewrite this so it's not in the style of headcannons.

Shuichi

Lost item? No fear Shuichi is here! He's probably one of the best people to help you find something that you've lost. With the detective skills why wouldn't he be?

Of course, if you're rather upset about not having your locket with you. Shuichi will do his best to help you relax and calm you down. (He'll even let you wear his hat! You look adorable in it by the way.)

All you have to do is describe what the locket looks like and where you last had it and Detective Shuichi is on the case! Day and night high and low this may be his toughest case but he'll find your locket even if it kills him! But just then he had managed to find your locket!

He was happy and relieved that he had managed to find it for you. He'd know you'd feel the same as him but more so off he went to return it to you! You were in your room so that's where he went!

"Uh... Y/N are you in hear? I've found your locket!" You perked up immediately hearing this. "Shuichi! You have found it! Thank you so much you have no idea how much this means to me!"

You said hugging him happily and then taking the locket from him. "Oh uhm... It's no problem Y/N I'm just happy I could help!" You smile at him but your focus soon goes back to the locket.

"Come on let me show and tell you why it's so special to me!" You say as you take a hold of his hand to have him sit down with you. As the both of you listen to the music of the locket he listens to talk about it looking at you with loving eyes.

Kokichi

Honestly, a part of me believes if you trust him enough to let him hold it he might accidentally lose it. "Hey! Hey! Y/N what's that? Can I hold it? Come on! Please?" Whether you give in or not you let Kokichi hold and observe your locket after you told him to be careful with it.

And then that little gremlin runs away with it as you hear. "Nishishi it's mine!" Of course, you didn't expect this and started to chase after him. But after some time you lose sight of him and just wait for him to return to you.

Well, he did return but without your locket... "Kokichi! How could you lose it? That was important to me!" After seeing how upset you've become Kokichi immediately feels guilty. You storm off in search of your locket.

Of course, Kokichi feels horrible about losing the locket. So he looks around where he last had it with him. After some time he found it and relief washed over him.

Now all he has to do is return to you! After running around for a while he finally spots you! You hear someone running towards turning around to see who it is. It's Kokichi with your locket in his hands!

"Kokichi! You found it! But please don't let anything like this happen again alright?" He took it to heart about how much this locket was to you. "Nishishi of course Y/N I'll be extra careful with it next time! But if anyone else takes it from you. Just tell me and I'll send DICE after that loser!"

You smile You knew he felt bad about what he had done but he was still the same old Kokichi you knew and loved and nothing could change that. "Thank you Kokichi it means a really. Now come over let's listen to the music of my locket together!"

K1-B0

You had explained the situation to Keebo and had been searching for your locket for a while. But no matter where you looked you just couldn't find it. But no problem after Keebo is friends with the gorgeous girl genius MIU IRUMA!

Keebo had told you to keep searching for the locket while he went to Miu for some help! After explaining the situation to Miu he told her he wanted a new upgrade to locate missing items. "Get over here you tin can so this gorgeous girl genius can install that sweet new upgrade!"

Miu beamed getting to work with Keebo again. "Hey! Was that a robophobic remark? But I guess I'll let it slide if it's to help Y/N..." And so after some more time, Miu had installed the upgrade for Keebo!

Happier than ever he thanked Miu before running off to find you! Keebo returned after some time with a smile on his face as he's happy he can help you now! "Y/N! Look at this Miu installed a new upgrade for me!" Keebo's ahoge began to spin around much like a radar LMAO.

"Found it!" Keeboo spoke running along the path the two of you were currently on. After some time he returned with your locket on a smile was beaming on both your faces! "Thank you Keebo this means a lot to me. I'm very grateful you went to such lengths to find this for me."

You spoke as Keebo handed you the locket. "Come on I'll show you why this locket is so special to me. The music from it can be very relaxing!" You smiled going to sit on a nearby bench as you motioned for Keebo to follow. With a smile on your face and curiosity in Keebo's eyes, music began to play as you spoke about why the locket was so special to you.

Rantaro

I'm sorry but you guys are NOT finding that locket. This man lost seven? Nine? Of his sisters, he definitely can't help you find a locket. 💀

But of course, Rantaro is Rantaro and he's going to help you find that locket! (Even if it takes forever to find it...) Of course, you explain to him what it looks like and begin to cover your tracks.

However, even after some time of searching you just couldn't find it. This greatly upset you as the locket was very precious to you. Rantaro did his best to comfort you hugging you and reassured you that your locket would be found.

After some time you began to calm down no matter what you would find the locket! After some more time looking around for your locket, Rantaro notices a shimmer out of the corner of his eye. He went to inspect what it was and after some time realized it was your locket!

"Y/N darling I've found your locket!" Rantaro smiled turning to face you locket in hand. "Oh, Rantaro! Thank you it means the world that you found it!" Your mood changed to one of happiness with a smile on your face which Rantaro loved to see.

Rantaro hands the locket to you and you happily accept it. "Come on I'll show and tell you why this locket is so special to me!" You said grabbing his hand and walking along with him starting to talk about your locket.

The smile and the way you talked about your locket made Rantaro happier than he'd ever been. He loves you so much and no matter always wants to see you happy.

[beauleifu]

heyo, can I request something with swk or mayor x reader? something fluffy for all the nightmares I've been having lately <3/p

Awwwww hugs for you 'cause them nightmares need to leave you alone <3

Hope this helps, roughly 2k oneshot!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MAYOR X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: You wake up from a terrible dream, and accidentally catch the Mayor's attention. Luckily, he's experienced in the field of nightmares and decides to lend a hand.

TW: Panic attack

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"Ah!"

Black. That's all you see, as you stare around with wide, wild eyes.

Thrashing around, you tear at the fabric wrapped around you, suffocating you slowly and awfully. Gasping for breath, you try to find the seam, tears blurring your eyes. It's not like you need them to see, anyways. It's not like you need to see the object of your nightmare, the cause of your emotional outburst-

Finally you locate the edge of the blanket and tug harshly south, allowing your head to escape the darkness and into fresh air.

Breathe.

Your room is bathed in shadows.

Just breathe.

There's nothing to see, even in the real world. You're alone, terribly alone, with merely your thoughts to keep you company.

"No . . . n-no . . ." You sit there for a moment, breathing raggedy. It hitches whenever you think you catch movement, but it turns out your mind is just playing tricks on you. Nothing helps. Your heart is still hammering.

Tears. They cascade down your face unnoticed until you're rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

There's no way you'll fall back to bed in the state you're in. No point in trying. You simply sit in your bed and try to calm down. But whenever your eyes close, flashes of the nightmare surface. It's not much better otherwise; your room is dark and quiet, no signs of life except for you. If you had to take a guess, you'd say it's around 3 in the morning.

Your hands find your face. They shake so badly that it just makes your panic worsen. There's no way you'd be able to defend yourself if your nightmares came to life. No way to deal with it.

Hiccupping a sob, you let the darkness swallow you.

Calm down.

Faintly, you remember that you're not the only one present. Somewhere outside your room a dangerous entity lurks, but he won't bother you. He doesn't care much for nightmares and he's never cared much for you, except for the usual greeting and-

Your heart lurches. What if-

No.

No, you can't bother him, you can't.

Your thoughts are at war with each other, and it just seems to make you cry. The tears won't stop, won't leave you alone.

Sucking in a deep, halting breath, you hold it. No sense in disturbing whoever might be within earshot.

Hands wet with tears, you exhale slowly. It's not working.

It's not working.

Your nightmare hits you hard again. No no no-

"(Y/N)?"

Your sobs come to a staggering halt, an occasional wet gasp being the only indication of how upset you are. Eyes wide, you raise your head, hands frozen mid-air. Standing in the doorway to your room, silent and observant, is the Mayor. His lifeless white eyes are fixed calmly on your face, his own expressionless.

Heart leaping frantically, you hurriedly gather yourself to the best of your ability. "M-Mayor?"

The bone demon's eyes flick about your room as though clearing it of any danger. He doesn't move from the doorway, merely tilts his head strangely. "Apologies. I simply heard something undesirable."

Yes, the screams of your poor soul.

Guilt floods your chest when the surprise washes away. "Oh . . ."

You can't meet his eyes. With shaking hands you glare at the blankets bunched up on the bed, grabbing a few fist-fulls and twisting them malevolently. Eyes blurry with tears that drip down your cheeks, you suck in a quiet breath in hold it. Part of you wants to wish the demon away, tell him to leave you alone to deal with your nightmares. But the other part . . .

"I-I'm sorry," you say, voice clogged with emotions.

The Mayor blinks at you, smile fading somewhat. It's always there, permanent and everlasting, but there have been times where it vanishes.

"Whatever do you have to be sorry for?" He asks, voice low as though talking to a frightened animal.

You might as well fit that description.

"N-Nothing!" You whisper frantically, eyes wide as you meet the Mayor's soft gaze. It would be nice to have someone care for you, but the guilt you feel for waking the Mayor outweighs your desire to be comforted. Besides, he doesn't care for you.

An eyebrow shoots upwards, and Lady Bone Demon's henchman lets out a long, thoughtful hum. "Are you certain?"

He's taking small steps towards you. Inching his way closer.

Your panic shoots through the roof. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay, I'm fine, p-please-"

Hands out to ward the Mayor off, you provide excuse after excuse, your words jumbling together. The ability to speak properly has forsaken you when he suddenly takes your wrists gently in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed. Sitting somewhat on the edge, he locks eyes with you, smile nonexistent. There's just a simple frown there, full of confusion and concern. But why??

"I'm okay," you whisper, eyes wide.

The Mayor's eyes slide down to your trembling hands. He can probably feel your pulse with the way his thumb presses lightly on your wrist. There's no mistaking your anxiety.

His eyes stare straight into your soul.

"Nightmare."

There's something hidden in that single word, too deep to break apart at the moment. You gape at him, at a loss for words. As you should be; you're exhausted, afraid, skin slick with sweat and your heart skipping beats like there's no tomorrow.

But he's looking at you in a way . . . like he understands.

And he wants to help. That . . .

You sigh. "Maybe."

There; his smile is back, lips tilting slightly upwards as he gives your wrists a gentle squeeze. The Mayor keeps his voice soft, the baritone soothing your body as he tilts his head again. "What about?"

"Nothing."

"Then, nothing is the cause of your panic?" He murmurs, thumb brushing your wrist. Eyes darting to the tears staining your cheeks, he continues; "Your dreams consisted of . . . nothing?"

You frown when he releases you, hands going back to fisting the blankets. "Yeah. . . . I-I'm fine."

Clearly, though, you're anything but.

The bone demon is bound to see through your terrible attempts to dissuade him. However, for the moment, the Mayor seems content to watch you try and pull yourself together. It's a sloppy attempt on your part; your breath still hitches, the goosebumps haven't yet faded, and your thoughts won't leave you alone.

In the end, he decides to pity you. After what feels like forever, the Mayor smiles. "Let's do an experiment, shall we?"

"W-What?" You say quietly, glancing up.

The Mayor blinks calmly, undeterred by your confusion. "Let's see if you can match my heartbeat."

"But . . . you don't have one?"

"How do you know?" He hums, then plants his hands firmly on the bed. "Scoot over, all right? Let's do this now, while you're still awake."

You falter, at a loss for words. "B-But . . . but I-"

Your friend merely waves his hands, wordlessly requesting you to retreat. His features are relaxed, gentle eyes coaxing you into a grudgeful submission. Sighing, you do as your told, making a small space for him to situate himself. The Mayor then sits with his legs crossed on the bed, the blankets bunching around him. You notice just then that he's fully dressed in his signature clothing, while you are in your pajamas.

Well.

He's just weird.

The thought seems to calm you down somewhat, but your heart is still jumping from the close proximity. In fact, your hands have begun to shake again.

The nightmare tentatively resurfaces.

Oh no.

Oh nononono-

"Here," the Mayor says suddenly, distracting you from the onslaught of panic. He must've noticed.

With that single word, he takes one of your hands in both of his, tugging you gently closer. Frowning, you lean forward, stiffening when the Mayor places your hand on his chest. Your fingers are spread wide, right over where his heart should be.

Instantly, you try to pull away, but his grip, albeit gentle, is firm.

"I-I don't think this-"

"It's all right," the Mayor murmurs, eyes fixed on you. The blank white color is full of patience and concern. It makes you stutter in your defiance. "I won't hurt you."

"That's not what I was afraid of-"

He holds up a hand for silence, and you snap your mouth shut.

"Listen."

Brow furrowed uncertainly, you bite your lip and focus on your hand above the Mayor's heart. Okay.

Okay . . .

Oh.

You do feel something. Faint and slow, but you catch it beating against the palm of your hand. Your eyes light up. "Huh . . . I-I guess you do have a heart."

"See?" The Mayor says warmly, smile back with a will. "Now. Try to match the pace."

"Um. How . . . how?"

He releases you up to the point where you can sit straight, but holds your arm out in between you both and presses his thumb lightly to your wrist. "Breathe," he says gently, hooded eyes locking with yours. "It's so very simple."

You stare skeptically back. There was a time where you'd laugh at the absurdity of it all, but you're too nervous to do so right now.

It's dark, the only light being the white of the Mayor's eyes.

Strange how they glow.

It's so dark. There's nothing to lose by abiding your companion's soft request - nothing wrong with it, either.

"What might you be thinking of, my dear?" The Mayor asks softly, voice calculating and slow as though he were tasting his own words.

Eyes darting down to his fingers around your wrist, you shake your head. "Nothing."

"Are you breathing?"

Oh. He still wants you to go along with the 'experiment'. With a sigh, you nod, brushing away any residue tears staining your cheeks with the blanket. You might as well indulge the bone demon sitting in front of you. So with a small intake of breath, you concentrate hard to hold it.

The Mayor lets out a deep chuckle. "No, darling, not like that."

"I-I just started-"

"And I thank you for listening to me," he interrupts patiently, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leans forward. "But let's try it a different way. . . . Take a deep breath in until I tell you to stop."

You stare, expression probably mutilated by the shadows covering the room.

Perhaps there's a part of you that's soothed by how attentive the Mayor is behaving. How he noticed you were upset and devised a plan to calm you down. It's touching, and, to be fair, no one's come to your aid after a nightmare in awhile.

It's rare to see someone make an effort.

And to have it come from someone most unlikely to display an ounce of emotion, well, it means a lot.

So you meet his eyes, your own full of anxiety and residue sorrow. Following his instructions, you take a deep breath in.

"Good. . . . Now hold it for a few seconds," the Mayor continues, peering closely at you. Just a curious entertainee observing your features relaxing, your eyes closing.

"Now breathe out. Slowly."

You do so, breath shaking faintly. With your eyes shut, you don't notice the Mayor's smile soften, his mind put at ease at his plan working so well. With his thumb pressing gently to your wrist, he can feel your heartbeat slow almost instantly, and it's noticeable to you as well. Fascinating how the body works, and thinking about it is a wonderful distraction.

When you've exhausted all your air, you repeat the process a few more times.

Then you open your eyes.

It's incredibly dark, but you can make out the Mayor within the shadows. Nervously, you meet his smile with one of your own, albeit yours is smaller.

"Thank you."

He gives your wrist a light squeeze before letting go. "So it worked?"

You nod.

"Well, how do you know for sure?" The Mayor asks, his smile suddenly strange. You know exactly what he's asking, and you let out a small sigh. Reaching forward, you tentatively place your hand against his chest, eyes narrowed as you search for that familiar heartbeat.

There. Slow and faint, so much so you almost miss it.

Yours obviously can never be that slow, but it's close enough.

You close your eyes for a moment. The soft beat against your hand is a nice reminder that you're not alone, and after a bit all the panic fades.

"Darling."

The Mayor's baritone hum drags you back to reality. You miss the amusement playing on his tone as you open your eyes and look up. The bone demon tilts his head, wearing a wide, closed-mouth smile. "Better?"

A smile. "Much."

"Is there anything else you need?"

You take your hand from his chest, lacing your fingers together in your lap. "Um . . . N-Nothing. Thanks."

The Mayor easily plucks out the lie in your statement. "Perhaps you'd prefer I stay until you fall asleep?" He guesses, his expression saying everything. He knows. Of course he does, and he probably understands more than you realize.

It's strange to hear such words from the Mayor, such displays of concern. However, warmth fills your soul at the gesture.

Good.

You're glad he'd realized your unspoken needs.

"If you want . . ." You breathe.

The bone demon nods silently, standing up as you situate yourself back under the blankets. You watch, arms folded behind your head on the pillow, as he pulls up a chair. A book materializes in one hand as he settles down.

You blink. "Isn't it too dark for you to read?"

"Thankfully, light isn't mandatory for a bone demon," the Mayor remarks casually.

"Ah. . . . Lucky."

"Indeed."

[cluelessatthispoint]

Afraid Of the Dark

Scout x Reader

Pure Fluff

~~~~~~~~

Having been invited over to the base for a sleepover with you boyfriend was like a dream come true. It was a cease fire week due to the food poisoning that the opposite team contracted. Having brought your pillows, sleeping bag, pajamas-you were set. At least you thought you were. Scout was overjoyed that you were going to spend the night with him on base. It was the first time that you both would be having a sleepover AT WORK!! I mean how cool is that. Scout's smile left his face at the sight of your slightly panicked expression.

"Heya Babe, why the long face?"

Your eyes welled up with tears. You could feel your face heat up with embarrassment.

"Did Spy say something to ya? Oh man I'm gonna beat his face in so hard-"

"I'm scared of the dark".

You could feel your heart rate rapidly increase at the mention of the dark.

"Oh, Honey. It'll be okay, I mean your gonna spend the night with me, and we have a resident pyro on base. You're gonna be okay."

You quickly embraced Scout and dug your face into his shirt. He smelt of freshly washed cotton and cherry flavored bonk.

"Come on, let's get ready for the best-est sleepover ever!"

Leading you over to the couch he sat you down and wrapped his lanky arms youround your middle. Leaning your head against his chest his heart beat lulled you into a drowsy sleep like state.

"I love you Jeremy."

"I love you to (y/n)."

[httpskarmaco-writes]

Body Appreciation (Swapped)

Summary: Owada starts feeling insecure about himself and his surgery scars. But his boyfriend, Ishimaru, helps him clear those thoughts.

Paring: Ishimaru Kiyotaka x Oowada Mondo

Type: Comfort

Content Warnings: Trans (FtM) Owada headcanon, fluff and angst, body dysphoria, MLM

Owada was staring at himself in the mirror after just getting out of the shower. He was in his signature black sweatpants but was topless, revealing some scars he has obtained over his years of gang fights and an incident he isn't too fond of remembering. Though 2 scars stood out from the rest and they were just under his pecs; his top surgery scars. He got them not too long ago, maybe say 7-8 months ago he was finally eligible to get the surgery and thus went through with it. It made him feel a lot better with his self image finally not having breasts but that still didn't stop thoughts from popping in from time to time, just like right now. Owada kept staring at himself, feeling unsure about his scars; yeah they looked badass but each scar has a memory and those scars will always remind him of what he used to be which didn't help. Maybe flexing would help? Owada always took pride in his masculine appearance, especially his muscles he worked hard for. So Owada started flexing his muscles to himself in the mirror to make him feel better but to no avail. He just sighed and flipped his arms to the side while walking back to his bed, flopping on that as well face first.

Ishimaru, his partner, was sitting and reading a book next to where Owada flopped down. He was wearing his nightwear as well; just some shorts and that blasted diamond shirt Owadas brother, Daiya, gifted him which didn’t fit quite right and slid off a shoulder slightly. He looked over at Owada and gave a concerned face. "Hey Mondo…what's wrong bro?" Ishimaru spoke, closing his book after marking his place and setting it down. Owada lifted his face and looked at his boyfriend for a second before setting his face back down. "Nothin'...'s stupid anyway.." Owada's words were muffled as he responded to him.

"Don't say that! Your emotions matter a lot, Mondo! So please, tell me what's wrong? If you are comfortable sharing, of course." Ishimaru exclaimed. He didn't like Owada hiding his emotions; he knew he went most of his life masking them due to insecurities. Owada let out a huff and sat up, looking at Ishimaru. Owada was hesitant, as already stated, he was terrible at speaking about his emotions; he always felt vulnerable talking about them and with being a gang leader, being vulnerable is the last thing to do and especially around people you don't know well. But Owada knew Ishimaru well, he was someone he knew he could trust just like his own blood, someone who’s been there for him and didn’t just see him as a terrifying gang leader…hell, Ishimaru scares him!

"It's just fuckin'...what's da' word? Body dysphoria yeah yeah…dat'.." Owada spoke quietly, crossing his arms in a defensive way to show that he's obviously not all for talking about this. Ishimaru frowned, moving closer to Owada, "Why's that, Hun?" Ishimaru spoke gently, trying to not accidentally provoke Owada since his tone in the past has accidentally triggered some unwanted emotion. Owada became flustered and embarrassed, not because of Ishimaru's tone but because of him using a nickname; Owada has never been good at expressing affection, always yelling out of anger just habit, but he had an even harder time receiving it. No matter what, it always embarrassed the hell out of him whenever affection was brought into the conversation. "Ishimaru, again with da' pet-name?...Yer makin' us sound like an 80 year old couple man." Owada spoke with a red face, not making eye contact with Ishimaru. "I thought you liked it?" Ishimaru chuckled. He thought it was cute that Owada could still get this easily embarrassed by a simple word but again, Ishimaru easily cries at the slightest amount of affection himself so he can't talk much.

Owada glared at him with a 'you know what I mean' look which just caused Ishimaru to chuckle again. "Alright alright…but you still haven't answered my question Mondo; What's with body dysphoria? You seemed fine a minute ago flexing in the mirror?" Owada sighed, shrugging before responding to Ishimaru, "I don't know…just don't like how the surgery scars remind me of who I used ta' be…." Ishimaru nodded, remembering how Owada always said scars carry memories so it made sense Owada would feel like that looking at that. Before Ishimaru could speak, Owada started talking again. "I just…feel like I'm failin' as a man…I-I mean, I wear all this makeup and keep my hair long…plus my dumbass can't even look at my scars. What dude can't look at a scar!" Owada started tearing up. He always felt like he failed at being a man, especially after what happened with him and his older brother…he ran away like a coward from him just in fear of having to face his older brother for months. He felt like a total failure. "I can't do shit! It's fuckin' stupid! I feel weak all da' damn time! I-I bet my gang views me the same…especially after that incident happened…" Owada just broke down at this point, a side Ishimaru rarely seen. Ishimaru frowned at Owada, he felt sad knowing Owada was upset at something, especially something that was out of his control. Ishimaru put a hand on Owada’s shoulder and began to speak,

“Hey, listen…you aren’t any of those things Mondo.” Ishimaru gave Owada’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze but to also get Owada’s attention which worked. “You must be crazy to think that because all I see is a handsome, strong man when I look at you. You shouldn’t let anything make you feel any different about yourself.” Ishimaru smiled at Owada, not expecting anything big to come from Owada but in the next second he found himself being hugged tightly by him with Owadas head nuzzled right in the crook of his neck. It happened so fast that Ishimaru didn’t even process it at first until Owada started speaking again, “T-thanks man…I’m glad I have someone like you…” Owada sniffled, hugging Ishimaru closer. Ishimaru smiled wider and hugged Owada back; he was happy to make Owada feel better about himself, even if it was only a little, Owada seemed to be better than what he was. “You’re welcome Mondo..” Ishimaru spoke, nuzzling Owada. After a few minutes of them just hugging, one of them decides to speak up, “How about we start resting? It’s late anyways since you take forever to get ready for anything Owada-” Ishimaru jokes, pulling away from the hug and poking Owadas forehead in a playful manner. Owada sniffles one more time before wiping his eyes and chuckling softly; Ishimaru always knew how to cheer him up, just one of the things Owada absolutely adored about him. Hell even just being with him makes his day 10x better and it was quite obvious too with how much he smiled around him which led to non-stop teasing from his brother, Daiya and a close gang member they consider a younger brother, Takemichi. Owada reached out a ruffled Ishimaru's hair, “Sounds like a good idea, Ishi.”

[error-whisper]

°❤️~This Is A Fluff/Comfort Post!~❤️°

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°❤️~Kosei Tsuburaba~❤️°

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⚠️ Warnings: None! Fluff/Comfort All The Way!

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-He likes to hug and kiss you a lot. Like a lot.No joke. One time,He hugged you from behind so unexpectedly and almost gave you a heart attack.

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-He's actually really really clingy but, only you know that because he clings to you when no one is looking.

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-He flirts with you on the daily basis and he loves it when you get flustered by his flirting skills.

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- Though, If You were to flirt with him then be prepared to be met with a flustered Tsuburaba!

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-Your nicknames for each other are darling,baby, and air boy.

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-He would also give you a lot of forehead and cheek kisses!

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°❤️~This Is The End! Again I'm Sorry For This Being Short But I Hoped You Enjoyed It! Bye!~❤️°

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[certifiedcodbabygirl]

I need Simon Riley who realizes just how much he loves you when he has a night terror.

He shoots out of bed with a shout, quickly looking to your side just to see it empty. His heart quickens even faster, images of your dead body, blood pouring out of your mouth and ears, eyes frantic before they still and glaze over. Remembering the scream he lets out as he shakes you, begging you.

"Please, please don't fuckin leave, love. God, not you. Please, you promised!"

He's having a panic attack and before he even processes it, he's running to the bathroom. Throwing him head into the toilet bowl, puking everything up as if his entire body is rejecting the very possibility of you no longer being there. He can't stop the tears ripping out of him and his fast, suffocating breaths stinging his throat as if the vomit isn't even there.

He doesn't even register your hand on his back, your panicked calling out to him.

"Baby? Baby what's wrong? Please talk to me" You beg, brushing his hair back, trying to hold onto him.

His wide, tear filled eyes meet yours and he throws himself into your arms, holding onto you like a lifeline. His crying doesn't stop, the intense emotions still overwhelming his senses.

"God please never leave me. I swear to god I'll be the best for you. I'll keep you safe, nothin's gonna happen to you" He swear as if he'd be your own guardian angel.

"Baby what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You pet his hair, beginning to realize what's happening.

"I can't lose you, I can't. Not you. Please, I can't." He cries into your shirt, trying to calm down but he feels genuine fear that he doesn't feel outside the battlefield. You hold him as his breathing slows down, exhaustion overtaking him. You settle against the wall, fingers combing through his hair as you both fall asleep. Safe to say he doesn't have anymore nightmares that night.

(Friendly reminder that traumatized men aren't always fully numb and military men can have feelings !!)

[imfinereallyy]

you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

[dmitriene]

helping simon to dye his hair, dark strands tangled with your fingers as you apply light hair dye evenly, brown eyes watching your every emotion as he squirms slightly on the chair, causing you to deliberately roll your hips and frown at him, his thick fingers flexing at your lush hips.

you cockwarm him, tight little panties pushed to the side so simon would be able to nestle his leaking, erect cock inside your gummy walls, relishing in the softness and content with feeling of your warm pussy gripping him tightly.

it makes him relax, to say the truth, not fidgeting much and letting you peacefully continue your task of dying his slightly overgrown hair, each gentle roll of your hips and small bouncing up and down his length, making his meaty cock all sloppy for you to glide on, makes simon more pliant.

he grunts quietly, brown gaze half lidded with infinite affection as he looks at your every move, light eyelashes fluttering prettily as his calloused fingers knead the plushess of your hips, rubbing up and down to your thighs, as you almost finish with your work.

it's good, to have you this close, with occasional soft kisses pressed either against his forehead or crooked nose, making simon almost purr out of the pure pleasure.

simon's body tingles pleasantly all over when he feels that you continued applying the blonde color on his hair, combing all of his hair back for greater comfort, as he busies himself in stealing couple of slow, long thrusts inside your sloppy cunt.

his cock brushes against your spongy spots messily, fat tip brushing the right place deliciously, and you let simon have his fun with an light mewl slipping past your lips — one that he swallows greedily with his lips on yours.

you both just better not overexpose the hair dye on his hair, or there will be even more work to deal with.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[suguru-getos]

࿐ husband neuvillette headcanons (f!reader) ࿐

neuvillette, the most respected man in the nation of hydro, more than their archon focalors. he commands respect wherever he goes, his aura still polite, ever so approachable. however, the power of his position cowers people. they are often rendered scared to approach him, some of them literally profusely sweating around his nimble aura.

you, were his wife now, his significant other. someone he cherished more than life itself & someone who made you feel safe, heard, protected. it was said that he was the most sought out bachelor in fontaine before he left his heart for you one day. “break it or keep it. it isn’t mine anymore.” is what he said, when he proposed you. oh the words ring into your ear like the finest melodies till date.

the steambird/ the media was eager to cover everything about the wedding; but to their surprise— neuvillette took you outside fontaine. the city of freedom — monstadt is where you two tied the knot in the presence of a certain, melodious and a high alcohol simp bard.

truth be told, once you were married. there were people who forced false allegations on you. how you manipulated the chief justice into falling in love with you. how you are fake and you act in accordance to his liking to be loved by him. some people even tried to forge false cases against you. all of which— deeply entertained furina. thankfully, neuvillette was never someone to pay attention to any of these things. at one time, he himself fought for you in a false trial. you couldn’t be more thankful.

rains— the legend of hydro dragon weeping causing the rains was famous throughout the country of fontaine. one day, when neuvillette came home a little early, looking distressed, you noticed a harsh, unforgiving thunderstorm drenching the country. you walked towards the terrace, looking up and gently, soothingly whispering. “oh- hydro dragon. please don’t cry.” the rain… lessened. it was as if the intensity had been lessened.

it wasn’t more time until neuvillette confessed to you about him being a hydro dragon. ever since then, whenever there had been rains in fontaine, you make sure to find your beloved husband and hug him tightly, kiss his forehead and tell him everything will be alright. it breaks you apart seeing him like this after all.

sometimes when he comes back home, he always brings your favorite flowers, maybe your favorite desserts, along with a beaming smile only you have seen. people who are aquainted to you often ask if neuvillette being the chief justice and being the most powerful man in fontaine makes your married life difficult. truth is.. it could never. they just haven’t had any access to the good that your beloved dragon holds.

things do get riff-raffy when furina acts a little too childish around him. he pays no attention to her self-centered, self-absorbed behavior but it pinches you how she bothers him for every little thing. once, there was a celebratory banquet held for the same and your displeased face told neuvillette in that very instant — how you’d like the archon to ‘behave’ around your husband. he has been extra careful ever since. <3

your husband might look stern, but he is a soft man. you have witnessed this first hand with how respectfully and tenderly he treats you. on the bad days of your period, the chief justice is nothing but a doting husband for his wifey. you can always be snuggled up to him and cry, or just spend time.

he is a HUGE cuddle bug. would love to destress off work by wrapping his big arms around you and peppering your face with tender kisses. he smells amazing too! always making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

[nabateaprodigy]

Please may I have a Fairy tail childhood fluff and tears scenario of when you (Gray's younger twin brother who is a sweet kid and all *he is a ice mage like his brother but his magic is slightly stronger than Gray's and this was long before he met Juvia and became her loving boyfriend*) first met Natsu when you and him were kids. Natsu found you crying alone by a big tree in Magnolia after you were made fun of for being kind and everything by the bullies. Natsu found you crying there when the Fairy tail guild was in a bit of frantic mode because you practically disappeared from the hall and Natsu..willing to help, actually managed to find you. You didn't know him because Natsu was a newcomer today which means he only joined today...and Natsu asked if you were alright when he stood in front of you. (Think of the scene from Naruto of when Ino had a flashback of when she first met Sakura and made friends with her when Sakura was crying alone because of her forehead ep 32). Natsu didn't think that your kindness was weakness or anything..and what he knew..the guild cares a lot about you enough to realise that you went missing.

No pairings in this..just Natsu becoming one of his friends like how the rest of the children around his age is..and bear in mind that you and Natsu met when you two were young children.

(I loved your last request by the way)

A Friendship of Fire and Ice

Series: Fairy Tail.

Character: Natsu Dragneel.

Genre: Fluff/Comfort.

Notes: This request is platonic. (Also I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed my last request!)

Reader: Male.

It happened again it's almost every day now so you should come to expect it when it happens. Yet each time it does your left in stock and tears each time it happens. It happened before you went to the Fairy Tail Guild Hall today.

Your older brother Gray wasn't with you when it happened as he had left earlier than you. So you were all alone when it happened like each every time it had happened to you before. It was always the same kids that decide to pick on you almost every day.

You hadn't told your older brother Gray about this yet as you didn't want to make him worry about you. Yet this is something related to why those kids decided to pick on you. They would always pick on you for being "too kind" and sometimes they would even call you "weak."

That couldn't be further from the truth as your older brother Gray and many other wizards in Fairy Tail. Had praised you many times for your amazing ice magic. Yet it went in one ear and out the other for you as you didn't think what they were saying was true.

No thanks to those kids who had picked on you almost every day for a while now. Being "too kind" and "weak" was all that was on your mind for a while now. It had started to affect you greatly and everyone else could see that but they weren't sure when was wrong.

Your older brother Gray was especially worried out of anyone. He desperately wanted you to tell him what was wrong and why you had a sudden shift in your behavior. It seems hiding it wasn't any use as you had made even more people than Gray concerned for you.

That's something you didn't want yet the question of "What's wrong? Please talk to me!" Was all anyone had been asking you as of late. You didn't want to talk you didn't want anyone to worry about you.

So when your brother Gray continued to ask you couldn't take it anymore and decided to run out of the Guild Hall. This only made not Gray but a lot of the other Fairy Tail wizards even more worried about you. But you didn't care and you didn't care about where you were running to.

All you knew is that you wanted to be left alone and for people to stop worrying about you. Eventually after running around for some time in Magnolia, you came across a big tree. You decided to sit down with your back to the tree.

You curled up your legs and started to cry thinking about everything that had been happening to you lately. You weren't sure how much time had passed since you ran out of the Guild Hall. But you didn't care you just wanted to be left alone for now.

After some more time had passed you had heard some footsteps but you didn't bother to look up and see who it was. You didn't care either as you just wanted to be alone.

The person walked closer to you and then kneeled down to you. "Hey M/N what's wrong?" It was Natsu one of your good friends. Even though you and his magic are opposites you two are close and get along well with each other.

You looked to see him as you rubbed the tears from your face eyes red from how much you've been crying. "Nothing..." You respond to him your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's not true and you know it now tell me M/N what's wrong?' Natsu said as he moved to sit next to you. " It's just these kids Natsu they've been saying I'm weak and too kind. They've been saying this to me a lot lately. Do you think it's true Natsu? Am I too weak and kind?" You said looking at him with a sorrowful expression on your face.

"What?!? Of course not M/N! You're one of the strongest people I know! And there's nothing wrong with being kind okay? Those kids they're just jealous they're not as strong or as kind as you are. So don't listen to what they have to say okay? Because it couldn't be further from the truth me and all the other Fairy Tail wizards know that."

Natsu spoke as he stood up and extended his hand to you with a smile. You took his hand and stood up with him with a smile on your face as well. "See that's much better! This is the M/N I know!" Suddenly you heard a lot more footsteps coming toward you and Natsu.

It was all your other Guild mates Lucy, Gray, Wendy, and Juvia. All of them were running towards you worried about you. "M/N" they all seemed to speak in unison.

They gathered around you worried about you from what happened earlier in the day. But they soon relaxed however as they saw the smile on both your and Natsu's faces.

"Don't worry I'm feeling all better now thanks to Natsu!" You smiled and all your other guild members were at ease with this. "You know what this means right? A group hug!" Natsu said as you and all your other Guild members embraced I'm a group hug together.

[chuluoyi]

fear

- gojo satoru x reader

his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.

genre/warnings: angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

notes: *sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.

"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"

"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"

That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.

"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."

"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."

On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.

Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.

And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.

"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"

Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.

It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.

"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"

"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.

But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.

When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help feeling annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."

It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.

"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."

"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."

Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"

"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"

You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."

"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."

"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"

"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it has come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.

"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."

Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."

"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”

That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."

Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.

You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.

Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.

Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.

If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.

Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were. After Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.

As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you had already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.

Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.

"You've royally fucked up."

Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

The reverse cursed technique user threw him a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."

The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"

A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.

Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.

"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."

He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?

The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."

She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"

It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—

"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.

"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"

"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."

Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes. 

Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.

"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.

Satoru.

But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.

You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.

Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.

"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.

"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.

Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.

Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."

It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.

And everything faded to nothingness.

Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?

But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.

And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.

It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.

You had laid there like a broken doll, your eyes dimmed, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.

Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.

That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.

"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."

When she said that, Satoru felt terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.

The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru left him.

He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.

"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.

And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.

But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.

It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.

"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."

And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.

Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.

You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.

"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.

It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.

You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.

"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridge between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern.

Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.

You felt tears pricking the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.

"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.

The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?

You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."

Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.

Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.

He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.

"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.

Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"

His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.

"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.

"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.

He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"

You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"

"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”

He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.

You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"

"Shut up,” he grumbled. “What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?”

"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."

"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.

The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.

But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.

"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried to be unaware of it.

"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.

“You said you could have any other women out there—”

"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Us. I don't regret anything. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."

“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay. Fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”

“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. I won’t—”

"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"

"A thank you would be nice."

In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."

He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.

"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”

You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"

"Then just let him die."

You swatted his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.

“I love you,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Mmhm.”

As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.

Epilogue

Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.

Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.

He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.

"You are—"

"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"

"Hah?"

If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.

"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."

Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!

"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."

"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...

Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?

Hey, that sounds like something I can do!

[cluelessatthispoint]

Pyro x spy x engineer but its blue spy and they just found and stole his head from medics fridge

Aw, I have just the idea for this. I love body-less Spy.

Warning-none, just Spy with no body.

~~~~~~~~

Pyro paced anxiously across the meeting room floor. It's been one week since anyone's seen the Spy. Normally Spy would be out an about doing who knows what. But he would always come back within three to four days. The feelings of anxiousness and stress ate away at his stomach for three days, three WHOLE days! Crossing his arms across his chest he could feel the fabric of his suit bunching up in his abdominal area. The sound of fabric brushing against fabric was the only thing breaking the silence. Over in the corner of the room stood Engineer. The short Texan had his lips pressed down in a tight thin line. His eyes sat squarely on the floor in front of him, not really seeing anything-just in a light daze. Spy promised them that he'd be back by the week's end, just in time to celebrate their 6-month anniversary.

"Mmmmph, mm, hm."

The sound of Pyro's muffled words pulled Engie from his daze. His googles sat askew on his head. Moving forward to the Pyro he unraveled his arms and engulfed the arsonist is a tight embrace.

"Don't you worry a thing Firebug, I'm sure that Spy is doing alright."

The last part was more to convince himself of that then comforting his boyfriend. With no warning, Pyro grabbed Dell by his overalls and tugged him to the entrance of the base. Passing by Heavy making a sandwich, Demo building a house of cards, it seemed like everyone was gathered in the rec room at this hour. With a slight nod of acknowledgement, he let Pyro drag him to the entrance.

"What's gotten into you Py? You lose something?"

Pyro locked eyes with Dell, his goggles staring into worn baby blue eyes. His own reflection staring back at him from the fogged lens of the gas mask. Pyro slowly raised his arm and opened the door, doing so he gestured to the direction of the RED base.

"What about them? We'll fight them tomorrow."

Violently shaking his head Pyro gestured wildly. His arms and hands moving almost too fast to understand the sign language.

"You think those RED's have him?"

The thought made his blood boil, what they would do to his boyfriend was anyone's guess, but he knew that whatever they did it would be painful.

Looking into the distance, it seemed like a good guess as to where exactly their lover had gone. He had been killing and impersonating the other team mercilessly for weeks. With a heavy determined sigh Dell looked back to Pyro and gave a firm nod. With not a moment to spare, Pyro ran back the garage, with a speed rivaling that of Scout's, and started the BLU company truck.

Pulling out of the garage with swiftness, Pyro unlocked the driver's side of the cabin and scootched over motioning for Dell to get in and drive. If his hunch was correct and that their lover Spy was at the RED base, then time was of the essence. Jumping into the cab Dell slammed shut the door and turned on the headlight and sped out of the BLU grounds like a bat out of hell. At the speed that they were going they got to the RED base in a matter of minutes. The amount of traffic tickets that he would have gotten would be horrendous had he sped like that in public.

Turning off the headlights and parking a good two blocks away from the base they stepped out of the car. Making their way quietly across the barren landscape they looked into various windows of the RED base. Starting with the outer most ones then going in. They checked the barn, the shed, the track, but there was no sign of Spy. Growing more and more dejected as time went by, they finally went to check the hospital wing.

Looking in they noticed that the lights were off all save for one. A small desk light glowed against the ravenous darkness. It illuminated the area enough for the duo to see the red Medic slumped over the side of his chair in a deep slumber. Seeing the enemy medic in such a vulnerable position was strange. But the strangest thing about the room was not it's sleeping occupant; but it's conscious one. Sitting upright on the desk, well upright as can be Spy. Spy's severed head.

Pyro gasped, the horror of seeing their boyfriend's dismembered head shot through him like one of sniper's poisoned arrows. But it was strange, it was strange how the severed head seemed to be looking around the room. The cigarette dangling from his thin cracked lips moved slightly with each breath he took.

Quietly, so as to not startle the sleeping enemy Engineer pushed the latch on the window just enough to get one small piece of scrap metal in between the windowpane and the glass. Moving it with extreme care, he shifted the glass away and motioned for Pyro to get on his back to step through the window.

Grunting softly underneath Pyro's weight he hoisted him over the ledge and motioned for him to grab Spy's head and leave. Pyro looked over at the desk and then back to the red Medic. I would be so easy to just kill him and leave, but that would alert the whole RED base that there were intruders. Deciding not to risk it, Pyro stepped as softly as he could towards the desk. Spy's eyes looked so relieved to see a familiar face-well, mask.

Gently grabbing onto Spy's head, he wrapped one arm around his face, covering his eyes and the other arm supported where his neck would have been. Walking briskly to the window he held Spy over the ledge where he was softly grabbed by Dell's strong hands. Once Spy made it over, then it was Pyro's turn.

Walking back to the car and driving back to the base has never felt more tense and unsettling as it did now. The way that the cold night air nipped at their exposed flesh made the trek back uncomfortable. But knowing that their boyfriend was back where he belonged made the whole experience worthwhile.

"Merci, mes amours"

Spy's hoarse voice still had the same charismatic quality it's always had. Except it sounded smaller, weaker, but no less grateful.

"No problem, Darlin."

Pyro's hands caressed Spy's cheek and wiped away any stray tears that would fall. Oh yes, there will be hell to pay next battle. There will be no mercy.

~~~~~

Howdy! I hope that this was okay! I was really excited to write this. Just the amount of angst and feelings that they would have to go through-SO GOOD.

[supercutszns]

Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸

fighting chance; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader

synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3

notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!

You’re not much of a fighter.

That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Unless you’re a child of Ares.

People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.

Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.

There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.

The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.

He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.

He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.

The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.

“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.

“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”

“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.

You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.

He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”

“Confer?”

“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”

A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.

“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”

It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?

“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.

He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”

“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”

His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.

“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”

It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.

The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.

You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”

You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.

“All good?” He asks gently.

It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”

Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.

“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.

He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.

“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”

Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.

“And you’ve always got our flag.”

You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.

He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.

There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.

Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.

The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.

Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”

“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”

“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.

Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.

“Luke—”

“I’ll find her!”

He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.

He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.

It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.

“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”

The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.

“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.

You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”

“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”

The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.

Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.

You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.

The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.

“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”

Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.

Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.

Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.

The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.

Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.

And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.

“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.

The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.

“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”

“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.

“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”

“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.

“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”

It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.

The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”

Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”

He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.

Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.

“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”

Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.

The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”

“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”

He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”

You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.

You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”

You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”

“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”

“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”

You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.

Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”

“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”

You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.

“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”

The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.

“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.

“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”

“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”

“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.

You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”

It makes you smile. “So second-best?”

“Tied for first.”

He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.

“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”

“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.

Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.

“Don’t care,” Luke says.

You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”

You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.

You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.