#reverse comfort

[solxamber]

Making Up After an Argument with: Overblot Gang + Rollo

part 2 with vice housewardens + kalim

on this day, i offer you some hurt/comfort

It’s been two days. Two long, awkward, and uncomfortable days of silent treatment between you and him. The argument had been petty—something so small that you can’t even remember what sparked it. But pride, stubbornness, and a little bit of frustration had taken over, and now, here you are, locked in a stalemate.

You’ve been tiptoeing around each other, avoiding eye contact, pretending not to care. But in reality, the silence feels like it’s stretching forever, and you hate it. You hate the feeling of distance between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You miss him. Even with him just a walk away, it feels like miles.

The realization hits you hard as you sit there, staring at your phone, hoping for a sign—any sign—that he’s willing to break first. But of course, nothing comes. He’s just as stubborn as you are. Maybe even more.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in your seat. Ugh, fine. I’ll be the one to give in this time. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. But deep down, you know you love him too much to let this go on. And you know he loves you too, even if neither of you will say it right now.

Riddle Rosehearts

You sigh dramatically, dragging your feet as you head towards Riddle’s dorm. The argument was dumb—you know that now. And if anyone could hold onto stubbornness like a grudge, it was Riddle Rosehearts. You, on the other hand, are way too tired of the silence, so it’s time for drastic measures.

As you approach his door, you pause, a silly idea forming in your mind. What’s the best way to apologize to someone like Riddle? With a flourish, of course. You rummage through your bag, pull out a red rose you happened to pick up earlier—totally coincidental, you promise yourself—and start plotting.

A few minutes later, you knock on his door, taking a deep breath. You hear footsteps, and then the door creaks open, revealing Riddle’s ever-serious face. His eyes flick up to you, then down to the rose in your hand, then back up again. He doesn’t say anything, though the faintest hint of curiosity flashes in his eyes.

Time to execute the plan.

You drop to one knee in an exaggerated, overly dramatic fashion, holding the rose high above your head like you’re a knight pledging allegiance to his queen. “My dearest Riddle, Queen of the Rose Garden, I come bearing an apology for my grievous offense. I’ve come to beg for your forgiveness,” you say, loud enough for the whole dorm to hear.

Riddle's eyes go wide, and for a moment, his face goes completely red—not from anger, but from pure, unfiltered embarrassment. He glances around, hoping no one else is witnessing this absolute spectacle you’re making.

"Please," you continue, voice wobbling as if you're on the verge of tears, "Grant me one more chance to bask in your presence! Your mercy, oh merciful ruler!" You bow dramatically, forehead almost touching the ground.

He sputters, clearly flustered beyond belief. "W-What are you doing? Get up! That's completely unnecessary—!"

"No!" You hold up the rose like a peace offering. "Not until you talk to me again! I will stay here on my knees if I must! Forever! Or until I get a cramp, whichever comes first!"

He’s torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of it and dying from second-hand embarrassment. “This is ridiculous! I—” He looks at the rose, then at you, eyes softening just a bit. “Fine, fine, just… stand up already.”

You spring to your feet, grinning triumphantly. “So, we’re good?”

Riddle sighs, rubbing his temples. "You're impossible."

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him playfully.

“Yes. But stop being so dramatic. The whole dorm probably heard you…”

You don’t care. You throw your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and for a second, Riddle freezes, stunned by the unexpected affection. Then, hesitantly, he returns the hug. He’s still embarrassed, but there’s a softness to his grip, a sign that he missed this closeness just as much as you did.

He pulls you into his room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, the embarrassment on his face fades, replaced with a quiet vulnerability. He avoids your eyes, walking over to his desk, his voice quieter now. “I… I was afraid,” he admits. “That maybe you were getting tired of me. I know I’m difficult sometimes, and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” you interrupt, stepping closer. “Where is this coming from?”

He sits down, staring at the floor. “You could be with someone more… easygoing. Less rigid. Someone who doesn’t argue over every little thing.”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you. I chose you, remember?”

He looks up at you, eyes filled with uncertainty, and you notice his hands trembling just slightly. “But what if I drive you away? What if one day you just… stop trying?”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. Before you can think, you step forward, kneeling in front of him. Without hesitation, you cup his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek. “That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

His eyes glisten slightly, the tension of the past few days unraveling as he leans into your touch. “But—”

“No buts,” you insist softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you. Stubbornness, rules, and all. And honestly, I think the petty arguments are kinda fun. It keeps things… interesting.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel a few tears slip down his cheeks. “You don’t know how hard it is for me,” he whispers. “To balance everything, to try and be perfect all the time… I don’t want to lose you because of my shortcomings.”

You smile gently, brushing away the tears with your thumb as you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. “You’re not going to lose me. You don’t have to be perfect, Riddle. I didn’t fall in love with perfection, I fell in love with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, tears still threatening to spill over, but his grip on your hand tightens as if he’s holding on to your words. “I… I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world,” you whisper, pulling him into a tight hug, cradling his head against your shoulder as he allows himself to cry softly into your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, gently whispering reassurances as he finally lets go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I missed you,” he mumbles between sniffles, his voice fragile in a way you’ve rarely heard before.

“I missed you too,” you say, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s never do this silent treatment thing again, okay?”

He nods, still clinging to you, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your shoulder, a wordless promise.

Leona Kingscholar

It’s been two long days of silence. And if you know one thing about Leona Kingscholar, it’s that his stubbornness rivals your own. You’ve been circling around each other, neither one of you willing to be the first to admit defeat. But the silence is eating away at you, and, well… you miss him.

So, you hatch a plan. A very dramatic, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary plan.

Armed with a large bouquet of sunflowers—because roses are too obvious—you march into Savanaclaw with all the confidence of someone who is absolutely not going to be embarrassed by this. Nope. You pass by several confused students on your way to Leona’s room, each one giving you strange looks as you carry the huge bouquet.

You stop in front of his door, take a deep breath, and knock. No answer. You knock again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Sighing, you decide to just barge in—because what’s a grand gesture without a bit of dramatic flair? Pushing open the door, you find Leona lounging on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

Perfect.

You march up to him and stand by his bed, holding the bouquet in front of you like a shield. “Leona Kingscholar, hear me out!” you declare, in a tone that’s probably more suited for a court jester than someone in an actual relationship.

One of his ears twitches, and his eyes crack open, glancing at you. You stand tall and proud, despite how ridiculous you feel, presenting the sunflowers like they’re some rare treasure. “I come bearing these humble sunflowers as an offering to ask for your forgiveness, O Great King of Beasts.”

He snorts. Actually snorts. “What are you on about, herbivore?”

You drop to one knee dramatically, holding the flowers up to him as if you’re a knight swearing fealty to his king. “Please, Leona! Forgive my transgressions! I was wrong to argue with you, and I cannot bear another moment without your esteemed company!”

Leona raises an eyebrow, staring at you with what can only be described as amusement. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“I am but a humble servant, groveling for your mercy!” you continue, refusing to break character. “Please, take these sunflowers as a token of my undying affection and devotion!”

By now, Leona is fully awake, sitting up and resting his chin in his hand, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “Sunflowers, huh? How thoughtful of you.”

“Of course!” You stand up dramatically, thrusting the bouquet toward him. “They represent my radiant affection for you!”

Leona finally lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But do you forgive me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his face betrays his amusement. “Yeah, yeah, you’re forgiven. Just stop with the theatrics, would ya?”

You grin, knowing you’ve won him over. But there’s something still lingering in the air, some tension that hasn’t quite disappeared yet. Leona might be laughing, but you can tell he’s still a bit on edge, still a little distant.

Setting the sunflowers aside, you walk over to the bed and sit next to him. “Leona, I know it was a dumb fight, but… you know you’re the only one for me, right?”

He glances at you, his smile fading slightly as he considers your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, scooting closer. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, and you can see the tension in his shoulders start to ease. Then, without a word, he shifts, pulling you down onto the bed with him, his body practically draping over yours like a big, heavy, warm blanket. His arms wrap around you, his tail curling possessively around your leg, anchoring you to him.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, letting out a low, contented sigh. “You better not,” he mumbles against your skin. “I don’t feel like dealing with anyone else’s nonsense.”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his hair, scratching gently behind his ears. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Leona presses closer, his body relaxing fully against yours as if he’s been waiting for this. His weight is comforting, and you can feel the way he melts into your embrace, his tail tightening just slightly around you as if to say, mine.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as close as you can, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “You okay now?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Just don’t pull that silent treatment crap again. Hate it.”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Deal.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but the way he snuggles even closer to you tells you that all is forgiven. You hold him tight, and in that moment, with him lying on top of you like a big, lazy cat, everything feels right again.

Azul Ashengrotto

It’s been two long, dreadful days of silence between you and Azul. And for someone like him—someone who thrives on words, on negotiation, on control—it’s been absolutely agonizing. But his pride won’t let him be the first to crack. He’s stubborn like that.

And you? Well, you’re not much better.

But enough is enough. The tension between you both is suffocating, and while you’re both great at the silent treatment, it’s clear this little game of emotional chicken has to end. You’ve had enough of this cold war, and after mulling over how to make amends, you come up with the most absurd, ridiculous plan that just might work.

You stand outside the Mostro Lounge, a grin on your face, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. In your arms is the biggest, gaudiest, most unnecessary floral arrangement imaginable—an explosion of blues and purples that makes it look like you’ve picked half of the Coral Sea to present to Azul. There are seashells, ribbons, and even a tiny fake octopus plush dangling from the bouquet, like the cherry on top of your ridiculous masterpiece.

You march into the Lounge, catching the attention of several customers, who stop to stare as you make your way toward Azul’s office. Ignoring their looks, you throw the door open dramatically, the bouquet nearly tipping you over with its weight.

“Azul Ashengrotto!” you declare, bursting into his office. He’s sitting at his desk, and the second he sees you and the monstrosity of flowers in your arms, his eyes go wide. “I have come to beg for your forgiveness!”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the display. “W-What…?”

You march up to him, practically dropping the bouquet on his desk with a flourish. “These flowers represent my sincere regret for my terrible behavior during our argument. As you can see, they are over-the-top and completely unnecessary, much like my stubbornness.”

Azul stares at the bouquet, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Y-You…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself, but there’s a telltale twitch at the corner of his lips that suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “This is absurd.”

“I know,” you reply with a dramatic sigh, throwing a hand to your forehead like a tragic figure. “I have been plagued with guilt these past two days, Azul. I couldn’t bear another moment without your lovely company.”

He finally cracks, letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you, darling.” You lean over the desk, waggling your eyebrows, and he sighs, shaking his head. His laughter is light, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls at your heartstrings. He may be smiling, but something’s still weighing on him.

With a small smile, Azul stands from his desk and walks around it until he’s standing right in front of you. He reaches for your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles before looking up at you with a much softer expression than before.

“I’ll admit… I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “But I—” He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if debating whether or not to say the next words. “Did you… only come back because you thought you had to? Or do you still… want me?”

His voice cracks, just a little, but it’s enough to make your heart break. You blink in surprise, your breath catching at the rawness in his question.

“Azul…” you say softly, stepping closer, cupping his face gently in your hands. His eyes dart to yours, filled with a mix of uncertainty and hope, and it almost shatters you. “Of course I want you. Always.”

He swallows hard, and you can see the tears welling up in his eyes, ones he’s desperately trying to hide. But you won’t let him. You pull him close, wrapping your arms around him tightly, holding him as if you could shield him from the insecurities swirling in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple. “I love you. I’ve always loved you since I met you, and I always will. No matter what.”

Azul clings to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder as his breath hitches. The tears come slowly, quietly, and you feel them soak into your shirt as he holds you like you’re his lifeline.

You kiss the top of his head, brushing your lips against his hair, then down to his tear-streaked cheeks. “I’m here,” you whisper between each kiss, your voice soft and soothing. “I’m right here. You’re not alone, Azul. You never were.”

He squeezes you tighter, as if afraid to let go, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving his body. You keep kissing away his tears, gentle and patient, letting him take all the time he needs. Eventually, his breathing steadies, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with so much affection it makes your heart swell.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs again, though there’s no bite to his words. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, his lips brushing yours in the lightest of touches.

“Ridiculous, but yours” you reply, grinning, and he huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yes… you are,” he whispers, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slow and tender, his lips soft but firm against yours, filled with all the love and relief he’s been holding back. You kiss him back with just as much affection, your arms wrapping around him as you both lose yourselves in the moment.

When he finally pulls away, you rest your forehead against his once more, both of you breathing a little heavier but feeling lighter than you have in days.

“No more arguments, okay?” you murmur, smiling softly.

“No promises,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his voice now, a comfort that reassures you everything will be just fine.

And as you hold him close, with his head resting against your shoulder, you know it too. Everything will be just fine.

Jamil Viper

After two long days of silence, the weight of the unresolved argument with Jamil has become unbearable. You’re done waiting for him to make the first move, especially knowing how he can be—cautious, calculating, always one step ahead but never one to make the first emotional leap. You miss him, and more importantly, you want to make things right, even if it means doing something absolutely ridiculous.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside his dorm, holding a tray of… pancakes. Not just any pancakes, though. These are heart shaped, perfectly arranged to spell out “I’M SORRY” in big, syrup-drenched letters. You’re not sure what possessed you to make pancakes an apology tool, but hey, everyone loves pancakes, right?

With a deep breath, you knock on his door. After a moment, Jamil opens it, his expression neutral, but the second he spots the tray, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What... is this?”

You grin sheepishly, lifting the tray up like a peace offering. “An apology. In pancake form.”

Jamil blinks at the sight, clearly trying to process this ridiculous gesture. “You… made pancakes to say sorry?”

“Yes. And they’re shaped like hearts. See? I even used syrup to write it out so there’s no confusion.” You point to the pancakes proudly. “You can’t stay mad at me after this, right?”

For a moment, Jamil just stares at the tray, his expression unreadable, before a slow, reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He lets out a quiet huff of laughter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours.”

He shakes his head, but there’s no denying the amusement in his eyes. “You could have just apologized with words, you know.”

“I could have,” you agree, “but where’s the fun in that?” You give him your best hopeful grin, offering him a plate. “Come on, at least eat one. They’re good! I even made them heart-shaped.”

Jamil sighs, taking the plate from you with a resigned smile. He grabs one of the heart-shaped pancakes and bites into it, giving you a side glance. “I suppose I can’t stay mad after this.”

You watch him closely, noticing the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. You know him well enough to see through his calm facade. Beneath it all, he’s still embarrassed—mostly about the argument, but also because he let his temper get the best of him. You can tell that’s what’s really bothering him, even now.

“You know,” you say softly, stepping closer, “it’s okay that we argued.”

Jamil looks at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t have to feel bad for losing your temper. You don’t always have to hold everything in around me. It’s okay to let it out, to be angry, to argue. We’re not always going to agree, and that’s fine.” You place your hand gently on his arm. “I’ll always come back and fix things, even if you feel like you can’t. That’s what we do, right?”

Jamil stares at you for a moment, his expression softening as your words sink in. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one that he rarely shows, and it breaks your heart just a little. Slowly, he sets the plate down and reaches for you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’re too forgiving,” he murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I meant it. You don’t have to be perfect with me, Jamil. You can be yourself, temper and all.”

He lets out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening slightly around you. “You’ll regret saying that one day.”

“I doubt it,” you tease, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “But if I do, I’ll make more food.”

That earns you a small, genuine laugh, and before you can say anything else, Jamil leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, his expression is softer than you’ve seen in days.

“You’re serious about that promise?” he asks quietly, his hand cupping your cheek. “That no matter what, you’ll always come back?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “Always. Even if we argue, even if things get tough, I’ll be right here. I’ll come back and fix it, even if you can’t.”

Jamil’s eyes flicker with emotion, and before you know it, he’s kissing you—soft and slow at first, but there’s a desperation behind it, a need for reassurance. You kiss him back with the same intensity, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer, trying to pour every bit of love and understanding into the kiss.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, but the tension that had been there for the past two days is gone. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he exhales slowly.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he whispers, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “Just don’t make me wait this long next time.”

You smile, reaching up to brush your lips against his again. “Deal. But only if you agree to eat more pancakes.”

He chuckles, pulling you back into his arms. “Fine. But only because they’re heart-shaped.”

And just like that, everything feels right again.

Vil Schoenheit

After two days of tense silence between you and Vil, you know you need to go all out if you’re going to get him to forgive you. Apologies are one thing, but Vil is someone who values effort, refinement, and, of course, aesthetic appeal. You can’t just go in with flowers—no, you need to apologize in a way that matches his standards.

So naturally, you end up outside his dorm with a full-on spa set-up. A luxury at-home facial kit, to be precise, complete with rare, imported skincare masks and the finest essential oils. You may or may not have spent more on this than you’ve ever spent on yourself before, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

When Vil opens the door, his eyes immediately narrow at the sight of you holding a basket filled with beautifully arranged skincare products. “What… is this?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You smile, trying to play it cool. “An apology. In skincare form.” You thrust the basket toward him. “I thought maybe you’d like to, uh, pamper yourself and—look! I even got the organic lavender serum you were talking about last month!”

Vil stares at the basket, then at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re bribing me with skincare?”

“Technically, I’m apologizing with skincare,” you correct, flashing a sheepish grin. “I know I messed up, and I know you like to unwind with your beauty routine, so I thought this might help smooth things over. Literally and figuratively.”

For a long moment, he just stands there, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. You’re starting to think you might’ve miscalculated when, suddenly, a soft chuckle escapes him. “You are… absolutely ridiculous.”

You blink. “So… that’s a yes on the skincare?”

Vil shakes his head, but the faintest smile is playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re my sweet potato.”

Relief floods through you at his words. “I’ll take that as forgiveness, then.”

He sighs, taking the basket from you and setting it on the table. “Yes, I forgive you.” But even as he says it, there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of something deeper that makes you pause.

You step closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Are you still mad?”

Vil glances away for a moment, and you can see the tension in his posture. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more vulnerable than usual. “No, I’m not mad. But… I was afraid. So, so afraid that I’d pushed you away too. That I’d lost the one person who could tolerate me.”

Your heart clenches at his words. You can feel the weight of all the pressure he’s put on himself, the fear of losing someone important. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around him as if you could shield him from that fear. “Vil, listen to me. I’m not here because I tolerate you. I’m here because I love you.”

He stiffens in your arms for a moment, but slowly, he relaxes, his hands coming to rest on your back. “You say that now, but—”

You cut him off, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, I mean it. Loving someone isn’t about tolerating them. It’s about being with them because you can’t imagine being anywhere else.” You brush a strand of hair from his face, your thumb gently tracing his cheek. “I’m here because you’re everything to me, Vil. Even if you’re mean sometimes. Even if we argue. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes soften at your words, and for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your face. Then, without a word, he leans in and presses a soft, tender kiss to your lips, his hands gently cradling your face. The kiss is slow, almost tentative, as if he’s still afraid you’ll disappear.

When he finally pulls away, you can see the unshed tears in his eyes, though he quickly blinks them away. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You do,” you whisper back, kissing him again, softer this time, lingering against his lips. “And I’m staying. Forever, even if you’re a diva sometimes.”

Vil lets out a soft, breathy laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Forever?” he repeats, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Forever,” you promise, pulling him closer until his arms wrap around you fully. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight, and for the first time in two days, everything feels right again.

And as he hugs you back, his grip a little tighter than before, you know he believes you.

Idia Shroud

You stand outside of Idia’s room, holding a stack of video game cases in one hand and a ridiculously oversized plush of his favorite game character in the other. This might be the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, but it’s not like you could just waltz in and hand him a flower. Idia isn’t exactly the flowers-and-chocolates type. No, he needs something bigger. Geekier. Something so outrageous that it’ll leave him flustered beyond belief—something that only you would dare to pull off.

So here you are, wearing a custom-made cosplay of the main character from his favorite RPG. And if this doesn’t get him to forgive you, you don’t know what will.

You knock on his door, bracing yourself for what’s about to come next. At first, there’s no response, so you knock again, louder this time. After a few seconds, you hear shuffling inside and the telltale sound of something crashing to the floor—classic Idia. Finally, the door creaks open just enough for you to see a pair of glowing eyes peeking through the gap.

“What… are you wearing?” His voice is barely audible, and you can already tell he’s regretting opening the door.

With a dramatic flourish, you throw your arms wide and hold out the plush. “Oh, mighty Idia, Lord of the Underworld and Master of All Games, I come bearing offerings to beg for your forgiveness!” You strike a pose, holding the plush in front of you like it’s some kind of magical artifact.

Idia’s eyes go wide, and you swear his hair flares up a notch, turning into a bright pink. He blinks, clearly stunned, before his hand shoots out to yank you inside his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“W-What are you doing?!” His voice cracks as he looks at you, then the plush, then the video games. His hair is now a brilliant shade of neon pink, a sign that he’s absolutely mortified. “Are you trying to kill me from embarrassment?!”

You can’t help but grin at how flustered he is. “Hey, I had to go big! You were ignoring me for two whole days!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” He fidgets, avoiding eye contact as his hair flickers pink. “I just… thought maybe you were tired of me or something…”

Your grin fades, replaced with surprise. “Tired of you? What are you talking about?”

Idia sinks into his gaming chair, nervously picking at the hem of his hoodie. “I just figured… you know, you’d realize you could do better. I mean, c’mon, I’m not exactly ‘catch of the year’ material. You’re always out there, living in the real world, and I’m… well, here. Playing games and… avoiding people.”

You take a deep breath, moving closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “Idia,” you say firmly, “if you seriously think I’d ever get tired of you, you’re out of your mind.”

He glances up at you, clearly unconvinced, so you kneel down, placing the plush in his lap before grabbing his hands. “You mean the world to me. I’d literally fight God in a 1v1 death match if it meant keeping you.”

His eyes go wide again, his hair flaring even brighter. “Y-You’d what?”

“I mean it,” you continue, squeezing his hands. “I love you, okay? Whether we’re sitting in here gaming or you’re talking to me about your latest game binge, or even when you’re convinced that you’re somehow not enough. You are enough, Idia. You’re more than enough.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you in the most awkward, yet endearing hug imaginable. His face is buried in your shoulder, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hair as it flares even pinker. “You’re… too good for me,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his voice small.

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability in them. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as his hair flickers with warmth. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Idia blinks a few times before he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you closer this time. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “But I guess… I forgive you. Not that I was really mad in the first place.”

You laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Good. ‘Cause I missed you.”

His grip tightens around you, and for a moment, you both stay like that—wrapped up in each other, the tension of the past few days melting away. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes flicking toward his gaming setup. “So, uh… you wanna play something?”

You grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you settle onto the floor, your back leaning against his chest as he hands you a controller. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hair still glowing a soft pink at the ends as the game starts up.

As you start playing, he presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Thanks. For, y’know… everything.”

You smile, leaning back into his warmth. “Anytime, Idia. Anytime.”

Malleus Draconia

The wind howls as you trudge across the campus, dragging a massive stone gargoyle behind you. It weighs approximately as much as a baby elephant, and if anyone else saw you right now, they’d think you’d completely lost it. But you know exactly what you’re doing. You know the storm swirling above Night Raven College is because of him, and if there’s one thing Malleus Draconia loves more than you (or so you like to tease), it’s a well-crafted gargoyle.

So here you are, yanking the poor stone creature across the wet grass like you’re on some kind of mission. Your arms ache, your back is screaming, and you’re about to regret this grand gesture entirely—until you finally see the towering spires of Diasomnia in the distance. Almost there.

You pause for a second to catch your breath, leaning on the gargoyle like it’s an old friend. “You’d better work,” you mutter to it, “because if I have to drag you all the way back, I swear—”

A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, reminding you why you’re out here in the first place. You shake off the rain, grit your teeth, and resume your march toward Diasomnia’s courtyard.

Once you arrive, you park the gargoyle right underneath Malleus’s window. Perfect placement. You could be a medieval decorator at this point.

You pick up a few rocks from the ground, size them up in your hand, and start tossing them at his window, each one making a soft thunk against the glass. After the third throw, the window creaks open, and Malleus leans out, looking down with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His eyes land on the gargoyle first, then on you, soaked to the bone and holding a rock like you’re about to reenact some ancient ritual.

“Huh?” is all he says, blinking at the sight before him.

“Malleus!” you shout dramatically, “Come down! I brought you a peace offering!”

He stares at the gargoyle, then at you, before disappearing from the window in a blur. Within seconds, he’s outside, standing in front of you, his expression unreadable but his eyes glowing faintly with that magical storm swirling around them. The weather above you rumbles ominously, thunder echoing across the sky.

“Malleus, I—”

Before you can even finish, he pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You freeze for a second, surprised, then feel his body trembling slightly against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The storm… I didn’t know it would affect you too.”

You realize then that his hands are shaking, gripping onto you like you’re his lifeline. Your heart softens, and you return the hug, pressing your face into his neck. “No, I’m sorry,” you mumble into his skin. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should’ve come sooner… with or without the gargoyle.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel the tension begin to fade from his body. Slowly, the storm above you starts to calm—the wind softens, the rain turns into a light drizzle, and the ominous clouds roll back as if they were never there to begin with.

You pull back just enough to look at him, his glowing eyes now gentle as they meet yours. “So, uh… do you like the gargoyle?” you ask, grinning a little.

Malleus chuckles softly, his eyes flicking to the stone statue behind you. “It’s… impressive. Though you didn’t have to go through such lengths.”

You shrug. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

He smiles, a genuine, relieved smile, and before you can say anything else, he tugs you back toward the castle. “Come inside,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “You’re soaked, and you brought a guest. We should both dry off.”

The two of you (and your new gargoyle friend) make your way to his room, and as soon as the door closes behind you, Malleus pulls you onto his bed, wrapping himself around you like a possessive dragon hoarding his most precious treasure. His arms curl around your waist, and his body presses snugly against yours as he buries his face in your neck.

You stroke his hair gently, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last bit of chill from the storm. “You know I love you, right?” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“I know,” he replies quietly, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I just… sometimes, I worry.”

You pull back enough to kiss him properly, your lips brushing against his softly, reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry,” you murmur between kisses. “You mean everything to me. And if I have to drag a hundred gargoyles across campus to prove it, I will.”

Malleus chuckles against your lips, a low, warm sound that rumbles through his chest. “Please don’t. One is more than enough.”

You laugh softly, nuzzling into his neck as you both settle into a comfortable silence, the storm outside completely gone now, leaving only peace and quiet—and a very satisfied, if slightly confused, gargoyle standing guard outside.

Rollo Flamme

The argument with Rollo had left a strange tension in the air, but knowing him, it was probably accompanied by a quiet storm of overthinking and guilt on his end. Rollo Flamme wasn’t one to voice his frustrations loudly, but his brooding could be as heavy as the weight of the world.

You figure it’s time to fix this, and, because you can’t just do anything the normal way, you decide on something special—something that’d be just the right mix of thoughtful and ridiculous to get his attention.

That’s why you find yourself in the Bell Tower, with a bundle of parchment paper in your arms. Not just any parchment, though—carefully selected handwritten notes of every philosophical thought, poetry piece, and historical fact you know Rollo’s obsessed with. You’ve even bound it like a book, with a dramatic title on the front: “An Ode to Perfection: Why Rollo is Always Right (Sometimes)”. It’s sarcastic enough to make him smile, but sincere enough to show you care.

Climbing the stairs of the bell tower is no small feat, but you’re determined. Once at the top, you glance out at the courtyard, where you know he’ll be, and with a deep breath, you shout, “ROLLO FLAMME, I HAVE CLIMBED THE HEIGHTS TO OFFER YOU THIS SYMBOL OF MY UNDYING RESPECT AND HUMILITY!”

Your voice echoes dramatically through the courtyard, and sure enough, you see Rollo down below, startled out of his brooding. He looks up, eyes widening at the sight of you, but it’s hard to tell if he’s more confused or horrified by the spectacle.

“I OFFER THIS—” you hold the makeshift book high, “—AS A PEACE TREATY BETWEEN US, THAT WE MAY NEVER AGAIN BE SEPARATED BY MERE MORTAL PETTINESS!”

Rollo stares for a long moment, before he suddenly breaks into a full-on sprint toward the tower. He’s halfway up the stairs before you know it, and when he reaches the top, his face is a mix of red embarrassment and panic.

“What are you doing?” he half-hisses, half-pleads, his cheeks flushed from both the running and the mortification of what you’ve just done in full view of the school. His voice lowers as he grabs your arm and tries to pull you away from the edge. “Are you insane? You could’ve fallen, and—”

“I wasn’t going to fall!” you grin, holding out the “book” triumphantly. “I came to apologize.”

He stares at the bundle of papers in your hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What… is this?”

“An apology. Written in beautiful calligraphy and filled with all the reasons why you’re wonderful, overthinking, but still somehow right most of the time.” You wiggle the book in front of his face. “It’s all for you.”

Rollo’s face, already red from exertion, turns an even deeper shade of crimson. His lips part, but no words come out for a second as he glares at the book, then at you. “You… climbed the bell tower. Yelled in front of everyone. And wrote a whole book to—”

“Get you to forgive me, yeah,” you finish for him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I figured you’d appreciate the effort, Mr. Perfectionist.”

He looks at the book again, his hands shaky as he takes it from you, carefully cradling it as if it’s some kind of sacred artifact. His voice drops to a whisper. “You… didn’t have to go this far. I was never angry at you.”

You blink, surprised by his words. “What do you mean?”

Rollo glances down, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I thought… maybe you’d realize you didn’t need someone like me. That you’d see how much of a burden I am.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Without hesitation, you step closer, reaching out to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Rollo Flamme, if you think for a second that I’d leave you, you’re wrong. I’d get into a fistfight with God for you, and win.”

His eyes widen, and a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. “That’s… quite dramatic.”

“You inspire drama,” you reply with a grin, but then your tone softens, and you pull him into a tight hug. “You mean the world to me, Rollo. I don’t care about your overthinking, your brooding, or your perfectionism. I care about you.”

He tenses for a moment in your embrace, but then slowly, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around you in return. His hands still tremble slightly, but he buries his face in your shoulder, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his temple. “You deserve all of it. And more.”

For a moment, he just holds onto you, breathing deeply as if trying to calm his racing thoughts. Then, after a long silence, he pulls back slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looks at you. “I… apologize as well. For doubting… for everything.”

You smile, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. “We’re both forgiven then.”

He nods, his face still flushed with embarrassment but now softened with relief. Without another word, he pulls you back into his room, where you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up together—Rollo resting his head against your shoulder, still clutching the book you made him, while you hold him close, reassuring him with soft kisses and whispered words of love.

The tower bells toll softly in the background, but for the two of you, there’s nothing but the warmth of each other’s presence.

Masterlist

[clare-875]

Not You (Levi x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Female Reader Summary: Levi has a nightmare that he loses you and he doesn't handle it well Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Descriptions of blood and death, Reverse comfort [AOT Masterlist] _____

It was one scream. Piercing and sharp as it rang through the air, but Levi knew instantly who it was. His heart rate picks up, pure panic reaching the depths of his mind, prompting the movement of his body as he runs. His eyes dart around him but all he sees is darkness. Where were you? Another scream echoes through space threatening hysteria. His body moves, it had come from his right. He runs faster, sweat drenching his form. His limbs are heavy, as though he trudged through mud. His mind was pacing, pushing away the thoughts of the worst. He curses the way he seems to have forgotten something as simple as movement as it feels like eons until he catches a glimpse of a struggling shadow. His breath gets caught in his throat, his feet now stuck to the ground by some invisible chain that he can't wretch free of. His heart races so fast he can now scarcely breathe and he doesn't know how to escape the oncoming terror.

"LEVI!!" Your voice is shrill pushing through the restraints of your panic and pain. It seeps through the sobs that rake through your body, it drips with fear and dread, just like the blood that pours from you. Crimson adorns your figure; it's all Levi can see. It falls from your hands that try to pry away from the Titan you are in the hold of, it falls from your temple seeping into the white of your eyes, it breaks from your skin under the weight of its hold. Your gaze is frantic, panic-driven; it's horror. "[y-y/n]?" Levi's voice is lost in the phobia that fills him. His breath shakes and stutters as he tries to move, but again he fails. Why why why why. It's all that fills him, the same words on his mind. Why were you here? Why were you dying; he had sworn to keep you safe. Why can't he move? "L-LEVI, PLEASE-!!" Your voice is helpless under the weight of your oncoming demise as it pleads him to move. He tries. He has never tried so hard to get his slack limbs to move as much as he did now. He tries to push against the agony and restraint and yet nothing.

"[Y-Y/N]!!"

His voice is a roar across space as your eyes look at him in pure devastation. "W-why, why won't you save me?" Levi's heart drops to the floor at your utter devastation and the sobs that lace your words. The heavy feeling of your voiced disappointment churns in his chest. No. "I-" Levi tries to speak once more but now it feels as though the restraints on his form have gagged him of speech. No. God please no. "You said you'd save me, you promised-" Your voice is interrupted by another agonising scream that has Levi losing his mind. He struggles to connect his mind to his body and yet no matter how much he cries in silence there is no movement. Levi feels hot tears of pure panic reach the rims of his eyes, threatening to break free as he bears witness to the series of events he has seen too often in his life. But not you, please not you. "L-Levi," His eyes are forced upon a sight he wished he died before he'd see. The Titan evidently has had enough of its malice as it squeezes hard against your form, causing your body to collapse under the hold. In the silence the final wheeze of your voice, "Save me."

Levi's gasps are erratic as his eyes shoot open meeting darkness. His confused state is dangerously out of control as he grasps at the bed sheets beneath him for stability, squeezing them so tight he almost tears it. His mind reels trying to catch up to reality, but the events of what has happened in his mind are still eerily sure in his head. He tries to control his hysteric state, pushing his hands into his face breathing shortly before trying to slow them down. Was it real? Please no. No no no no... Levi's hand has never darted so quickly to the figure that should be beside him; beside him asleep. Only, his hand meets a coolness that has his heart jolting harshly in his chest. His eyes dart to his side, gaze wide, mind frantic. When he sees that no one is there, that you aren't there, that's when he loses it, he is lost in hysteria.

Levi flies out from his bed unstable, eyes darting in the darkness of the room. His voice is lost within him out of fear at the lack of response he might find. He turns on the lamps in the room to see the empty space around him, he moves quick across your shared bedroom ripping open doors and racing across space. "[y-y/n]" His voice is breathless, barely heard as he unsteadily rushes across the rooms. He checks the office, he checks the bathroom, he checks every crevice no matter how stupid it might be. He needs to. He needs you to be alive; to be here. "[y/n]!" His voice is louder now but is met with silence. The only response that reaches him now is the dwindling remembrance of your voice; your words. "You promised me." Levi shakes his head, hand raking through his locks harshly. "Please." Levi goes for the door handle, intent on ripping apart headquarters to find you, to prove he hadn't failed you. "Save me." Tears threaten him as he goes to open the door only for it to open abruptly.

It revealed you.

You look up in surprise, having got yourself something quick to drink in the middle of the night from the kitchen. It had been a long internal debate; you knowing the effects of PTSD upon both of you. It brought horrendous nightmares, ones that had you questioning your reality; your sanity. But Levi had finally seemed to be asleep long and well enough for you to slip briefly from the bed beside him so you could quench your thirst. Evidently, you were wrong. Levi looks at you in shock, rigid form and tears lingering in his eyes. He looks tense, more than you have ever seen; as though one wrong move might cause devastation. You find yourself rigid as your eyes turn behind him to where the room you had left is now pulled apart as though there was a struggle. Your gaze meets your lover once more as your mind connects the dots.

You move forward hesitantly. "Levi?" He turns to you then, finally breaking free of the turmoil he had faced in such a short period of time. You move forward seeing the shock, the dread, the relief pouring from him. You reach out gently and he instantly responds to your touch as you hold him against you and he puts his arms tight around your form. His hands shake subtly but his embrace is taut and you let him be. He lets himself breathe. He lets himself catch up to reality. He begs to whatever being is up there, that they don't take you away from him. You stay there for long moments, him just matching your breathing, inhaling your sweet scent and losing himself in the soft caress of your touch. Him, gripping onto his sanity.

"Levi?" You say softly once you have stayed in his tight embrace for several long moments. You feel his limbs slowly start to slack as he releases you of his form, but barely lets you an inch out of his grasp. "Are you okay?" Levi can barely look up to you as you meet his shadowed gaze. "I'm sorry, I just went to get something to drink. I didn't think- What happened?" Levi's hand is within your own as you squeeze it gently, hoping to provide some comfort to his blatant pain. Levi's voice shakes but drips of grief and exhaustion as he speaks to you. "Just don't- don't die... not you." You look up at his defeated form, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, so utterly embodied by the emotions you know he tries so hard to hide. You pull him to the couch in the room as you sit beside each other. "I won't."

The both of you know that there was no truth to your words. Anyone could die when beyond the walls; it seemed death would come even when you were within them. But Levi allowed the contentment of your words to seep within him. He allowed your hands to gently caress his raven locks and allowed the warmth of your body to bring him back to his reality. He pushed away the lingering words you spoke to him in the depths of his dreams: the disappointment, the echoing screams. He never told you all of what happened in his nightmare but you could guess well enough. You found all the answers you would need in the way he muttered under his breath until the morning sun shone past the far-off horizon.

"Not you..."

[hollowtakami]

HEYOOO

so I read your keigo fics and I really loved them! What do you think about Keigo waking up from a nightmare and he can't find you, so he starts to panic, and when you come back from the toilet (or wherever you were), he immediately latches onto you panicking and crying

Man he is so sweet

hi anon! ^_^ tysm for your ask, it rlly made me smile hehe. here’s a small drabble as thanks:)

(apologies if its rusty, the only thing i have written as of late is uni essays-)

keigo gasped for air as though he’d been reborn, feathers pricked out like needles.

he clutched at his shirt like a vice, daring to tear through his skin and stress grip his dying heart. he panted, delirious amidst his fear.

the suns of his eyes bounced across every corner of the room, his free hand scratching away the duvet in search of you. nothing, not even his feathers could sense you, clouded by fright.

what the avian didn’t know was that you hadn’t left him like his father, you’d only gotten to get a glass of water after the drought in your throat had woken you up, not nearly as violently as the way your boyfriend’s body treated him.

what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was unfurling faster than the might of his wings ever could.

pattering through the hallway of your apartment with a glass and a plenished throat, you gently broke your way into your shared bedroom with a tired hand.

your eyes retreated behind their lids at the light you swore you hadn’t put on, lest you disturb keigo in his sleep.

no, an instinctual feather did so.

you stop, feet planting into the carpet as your brain tries to process the scene in front of you, whirring through its fatigue.

there was keigo, plumage fluffed up in fear, eyes wild and pinned on you, your bedsheets in tatters.

“kei?” words clawed up your throat as you slowly made your way to the bedside table and placed the glass. keigo grabbed your wrist the moment you’d set it down, you managed to get a better look at him.

sunny bedhead and a dark sky lining his eyes, his chest heaved along with the heavy burdens that laced his blood, what was his own that didn’t stain his hands.

no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, keigo would never be clean. it had trickled into his brain, and he couldn’t even escape it in his sleep.

“stay,“ he silently barked, his words scratchy.

keigo’s stress grip on your wrist wouldn’t let up, the avian latched onto you for dear life.

your face fell, eyebrows furrowed as you saw his glassy eyes, glossed over with fear.

“bad dream, baby?” you whispered, slowly raising your wrist to run a hand through keigo’s hair, massaging his scalp with gentle nails.

keigo only choked on a sob, his vulnerabilities racing down his cheeks to their end. if only this would end, he begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed.

you brought your wrist down, eyes trained on the dots of his.

“‘m not going anywhere, baby boy,” you soothed, gentle reassurance hanging in the air until keigo was ready to pluck it down and hold it close to him.

he tried to not, more words contesting in his throat.

keigo looked down at himself, feathers shaking more than his tired body.

“bad..” he gestured to himself.

“you aren’t him, birdie,” your words were soft, sun against his skin. his heart swelled amidst the silent rage of his head.

soon, you felt keigo’s grip starting to soften too.

you grabbed the glass of water with a free hand, using the other to usher strands of gold out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as you helped him sip some water.

kissing his forehead, you cooed, “that’s my boy,”

keigo chirped, too frightened to speak. he would only chirp or coo when this regressed into his fear, not that you minded. you knew that his bird qualities were something he was forced to bury, much like other innocents.

but, there wasn’t any blood on keigo’s hands.

the only thing in his hands was the silk of your skin, fingers intertwined as you spoke to him with the song of your voice, an angel he would tell himself he didn’t deserve.

your wings were pure, his stained red. he was born like this, conceived by a monster of a man. so, that must mean that he was born the same.

it took an angel like you to help him realise he had never fallen, it was someone else who had clipped his wings.

[sorcerersseestars]

love sweet, taste bitter

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

To you, Gojo Satoru is your silly, loving boyfriend. But Gojo Satoru is also the strongest sorcerer in the world, and that comes with its risks—for both you and him. When his Infinity fails to activate, your mission takes a turn for the worse.

Aka one of you gets hurt, and the other has to bear it.

Warnings: injuries and violence, a gun is used, blood loss, hidden inventory arc spoilers, fight btwn Gojo and reader, reader implied to be shorter/smaller than Gojo, slightly suggestive (not rlly), lowkey a lot of kissing tho??, bad communication skills, emotional whiplash bc gojo doesn't know what to do w his feelings

Word count: 9.2k

*Gojo and reader are in their early 20s

"Cursed technique reversal: red,” Gojo calls out casually, lazily flicking his right index finger at his target.

The curse—hardly an intelligent one, far from being special-grade—stares at the brilliant light with bulging eyes. It's a deer in the headlights, transfixed by Gojo’s power and paralyzed with fear. You can only imagine how that would feel.

You tear your eyes away from the sight of the curse disintegrating into nothing. It's not as gruesome as most curse exorcisms, considering the potency of Gojo’s attacks, but the curse’s expression fading into nothingness still makes your skin crawl. You almost pity the horrible creature.

In comparison to the macabre scene you just witnessed, Gojo's enthusiastic noise of approval nearly gives you whiplash.

"Another job well done by yours truly!" Gojo grins, giving you two thumbs up. "Now let's hurry before that new boba place closes. You said you really wanted to try it, right?"

It takes you a moment to respond, your mind still processing how insanely fast your boyfriend was able to eradicate a threat that would have taken you both a good strategy and a fair bit of time to exorcise. It took practically no effort for Gojo to eliminate, and you know that he fears no curse. For you, fear grips you each time you face off with a curse, no matter how big or small. It doesn't feel fair.

Your fingers curl into a fist as you struggle with your emotions, frustrated with yourself. When you look to him, beyond his shades and into his powerful eyes, something akin to envy pulls at your gut. It makes you feel sick—you're viewing him in the way everybody else sees him. But when he walks toward you, smiling so wide that he looks goofy, your thoughts of his abilities melt away and are replaced by an affection so strong that your chest hurts.

His eyes are so beautiful, their perpetual sparkle even visible from under the dark film of his shades. His cheeks are tinged pink from your constant gaze on him, and it still amazes you that you have the ability to make him fluster at all. His lips are stretched into a toothy grin, his eyes crinkling along in genuine happiness. Your stunning boyfriend that you still can't believe ever gained an interest in plain old you.

That's right. To you, he's not the Honored One, he's not Gojo Satoru. He's just your boyfriend, just your Satoru. Just your boyfriend who is obsessed with anything sweet.

You roll your eyes lightly, a small chuckle bubbling up in your throat, “You mean, the place you've been begging to go to all week?"

He walks to your side, sighing loudly as he approaches. His deft fingers subtly adjust his sunglasses, pulling them down in an attempt to garner your sympathy. The expression on his face is priceless—the strongest sorcerer in the world is pouting because you insinuated you might not want milk tea.

"Don't be so mean, sweets!” He whines. "You said you wanted to try it out, too.”

“Hm, did I now?” You say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I don’t recall.”

He steps closer, towering over your smaller form. When you dwell on that thought, you suppose you should be scared. You see him brutally destroy curses, leaving no trace of their existence behind. He could do that to you, if you wanted to.

Even knowing that, you aren’t scared.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel his strength through the solid grip he has on you—his arms lovingly cage you in.

Even though he’s done this many times before, your breath still catches in your throat, and your heart races at the proximity.

“C'mon, l know you've been craving brown sugar boba all week... And they even have that tiramisu flavor you go crazy for…”

He nuzzles in close to your neck, warm breath fanning down your nape. When he's this close, you can't resist anything—and he knows it, too.

You sigh as if he's ruffled your feathers, but you can't help but let the chuckle you’ve been holding in escape past your upturned lips.

“Do they have cheese foam?" You hum.

You yelp as his fingers dig into your side—and then your entire body is wracked with heaving, boisterous laughter.

"What a silly question. Of course they do! Only the amateurs lack the essential toppings,” He shakes his head playfully. “Any more funny business out of you, and you'll get punished again."

You twist around in his grasp to face him. Your hand reaches up to ease his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, putting his vibrant blue eyes and pale lashes on display.

“You're so pretty it's unfair,” You pout. "Leave some for the rest of us."

"And yet everyone's always trying to steal you away from me," He counters.

"Says the head-turner," You say with a smile full of your adoration for him. “Haven't you noticed that the rest of the population—myself included—never has all eyes on them when entering a room?"

He shrugs, “How would I know? You think my eyes are on anyone else once I see you?"

The insinuation has heat and electricity coursing through your entire body. He wears a smirk as if he can feel the flames licking your skin. You lower your gaze, suddenly shy.

A warm hand cups your check, gently nudging your face close to his. Your eyes instinctively flit up to his, drinking him in.

His eyes are bright behind his shades. You laugh softly when his shades fully slide down to the edge of his nose as he lowers his head to yours.

“Makin’ fun of me, babycakes?” He pretends to pout, but his tone is playful and warm.

“Maybe,” You tease. “I mean, you are freakishly tall and have glow in the dark eyes. And you call me all sorts of weird names.”

“You–!” He gasps. “You are such a rascal, y’know that? A fiend, even!”

“Mmm,” You hum, humoring him. “Well, would such a fiend as myself do…this?”

You lean in, savoring the warmth of his hands on you. His skin, smooth from its lack of wear due to his Infinity, skates across your skin effortlessly. Your lips are about to touch his, only inches away from bliss, when you both are caught off guard.

There’s a loud bang. So loud, in fact, that your ears ring as soon as the sound waves hit your eardrums. You stagger back from Gojo, crouching down and immediately covering your ears with your hands. You look up at your boyfriend, expecting to exchange confused glances, and are not prepared in the slightest for the scene in front of you.

His eyes are blown wide, shades now missing. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead and all color has drained from his face. His expression quickly crumples, lips parting and yet no sound escapes him.

A shudder runs through you—something is very wrong.

Then his shaky hands begin to move, and he quickly clutches his side. Right under his ribs, a stream of blood begins to run down his body, escaping between his fingers. You watch in horror as it pours down at an alarming rate, and you begin to put the pieces together.

Satoru has been shot.

His name leaves your mouth in a panicked howl and then you can't speak anymore, as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. Your mind is ripped back to when Toji Fushiguro sliced Gojo to shreds in front of you. His blood splattering everywhere while you watched on in horror, immobilized and completely useless, not able to do anything but watch the terrors unfold. Not again, not again, it can’t happen again, is what replays through your mind.

You have no more time to linger on that chilling memory. More pops sound through the air, deafening you and spiking fear in the blood that rushes through your veins. It can't happen again. You can't see him like that again.

You immediately throw yourself at your boyfriend, desperately trying to shield him with your body, even though it’s nearly impossible with how tall he is. You shove him down, attempting to cut down his frame to meet yours so that you can cover him, and notice something odd. You can still feel his warmth—your skin brushes against his, when it shouldn’t. Not right now, it shouldn’t.

You move to the side with quick steps and try to pull him along with you, but are unable to. Your heart sinks. He’s completely dead weight. You’re strong in your own regard, but there’s no way you can pick him up and take off with him.

"Satoru, please! C'mon, we have to go, we need to. Please," You plead with him, gripping him so tightly that your hands ache. When he doesn't respond, you start to shake him, trying to get any reaction out of him, but to no avail.

He’s in shock. It’s obvious with his lack of reaction, with how he lets himself be man handled under your body. He prides himself in his ability to protect those around him—he wouldn’t just let you put yourself in the line of fire if he was in his right mind. You know fully well that Gojo could eliminate the shooter in mere moments if he assumed his normal calm and nonchalance—but, unfortunately, his mind is in a freeze state. The bare skin under your fingertips is evidence of this, which only exacerbates your rising panic.

“Your Infinity!” You shout, your voice raw from panic. “Satoru, your Infinity! You need to turn it on! Now!”

Still grasping Satoru tightly, you endure the next round that is emptied into the space next to you—a bullet whistles by your ear, too close for comfort. Gojo’s breathing is ragged, his eyes staring into nothing and appearing so far away at the same time.

You duck down to his eye level and grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Satoru, please! Snap out of it! Please!”

For a few seconds, his gaze locks with yours. His eyes, usually such a vivid blue, are darkened by how large his pupils are. You plead with him, unable to keep your terrified tears at bay.

Then you’re slightly bumped back, now pressing against what feels like a wall, and your body becomes weak with relief. He finally activated his Infinity.

But you're not out of danger yet. Your brain scrambles as you try to figure out how to get out of this while your boyfriend is evidently in shock.

You dare a glance back, eyes scouring the landscape, and immediately curse. As you suspected, you are most definitely being sniped. The enemy has the advantage of higher ground and generous foliage for coverage, while you and Satoru are exposed out in the open clearing below. If you had more time and brain power, you could triangulate their location, but that's just not possible right now.

Even if you were able to surmise their location, you don't even think you can fight back right now, not with how exposed your position is and with how vulnerable Gojo is in this state. And if you can't fight, then you have to flee.

Projectile weapons are ineffective against a moving target—this simple knowledge is what sways your decision. Even though it didn’t work before, you grab Satoru, still trying to keep him low, and begin to run. You breathe a little easier when he moves along with you.

More shots whizz past you, but you keep going, pumping your legs as fast as you can while making sure to be the rear guard. It’s obvious that they’re targeting Gojo—if they hit you, it would merely be collateral damage. The bullseye is on Gojo’s back, not yours.

You don’t stop running until you hit the tree line, and even then you hurriedly usher Gojo behind a stocky trunk many meters back. Before you can catch your breath, you're ripping off your jacket with haste. Quickly realizing that the material is not ideal for the job you intend it for, you quickly tear your shirt from your body. It’s sweaty from all your activity, but it’ll have to do.

You brush away Gojo’s hands, firmly pressing the cloth to his wound. You practically collapse onto your boyfriend as you apply firm pressure, your forehead dipping down to rest on his shoulder. You're wracking your brain for what to do next when Gojo gently pushes you back, places his hands on yours, and shakes his head.

You can't help but think the worst. What does that mean? Is it like that time? Am I too late again?

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but y-you're bleeding so much that I have to. Fuck, I’m really sorry for making you run, I’m sure that made it worse, but we just had to get away from whoever was shooting, oh god, how badly did they get you, fuck, this is my fault–”

You don’t realize you’re rambling until he cuts you off. You don't realize you're crying until he brushes the tears away.

“Hey. Stop, sweets. I’m fine, it already stopped bleeding.”

“What? But that can’t be, you were literally shot–”

He raises his shirt, revealing a pink layer of new skin.

He offers you a weak smile, but something is off about it. “Reverse cursed technique, remember? Nobody’s gonna take me down that easily.”

You release a big breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The weight on your shoulders finally eases as you look over his new layer of skin.

“Oh fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay,” You sniffle, leaning in quickly for a hug. “I–mmph!”

You stumble back a step, blinking in surprise. This has never happened before—you hit his invisible barrier.

His eyes widen. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

“No, no, it’s okay!” You wave your hands, trying to dispel his apology. You feel flustered and stiff, awkwardness seeping into your mannerisms. “It’s good that it’s on now.”

It’s then that the disturbing thought hits you. Maybe he should always have his Infinity on. Maybe you’re endangering him.

Gojo holds out his arms for you, now inviting you in. You pause, your thoughts echoing through your head. You take a beat too long—you know he senses your momentary hesitation, and how slowly and gingerly you come into his arms doesn't feel right.

“You okay? Did you get hit?” He asks, squeezing you tightly in his arms. “Fuck, please tell me you didn’t.”

With your head pressed to his chest, you can hear how rapidly his heart beats. He’s scared. He’s scared for you, even though he was the one who got hurt.

His hands run over you, checking for any injuries. You pull yourself out of his embrace gently to still his hands.

You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. But you…you got hurt, Satoru. They shot you.”

And it’s absolutely your fault. If you hadn’t been touching him, this never would have happened. He let his guard down because of you.

“I’m alright now, sweets,” He reassures you, but his tone is again tinged with a strange emotion you can’t put your finger on. “Promise.”

“But–!” You exclaim, about to spill out all of your guilty feelings. The words don’t come, though, stopped by another fear. Will he also realize it’s your fault and get rid of you? Will he realize he doesn’t need you?

“Here,” He says, unballing your shirt and placing it in your hands. “This is proof that I’m fine. Your shirt’s..."

He inspects it funnily, scrunching up his eyebrows and staring at it intently, making a show of it to make you laugh. "...pretty clean and ready to be worn again. Well, unless you don’t want to…can’t say I wouldn’t mind you not putting it back on…there is a little speck of blood on it, after all...”

He smiles at you, a true grin that manages to lift up your weary heart. You burst out laughing, and swat his arm before you hurriedly take it from his hands.

“Satoru! We almost just died and you—” You still can’t contain your laughter, but it stops abruptly once you feel a large wet patch on your shirt. When you pull your hand back, your fingers are stained red with a surprising amount of blood.

“I swear it closed up before you…” He frowns, trailing off. His face turns serious for a moment, but then you touch his cheek with your clean hand and give him a quick peck.

You shrug, “It’s okay. No biggie.”

Face still close to yours, he chases your lips as you pull away from the peck. He kisses you deeply, catching you by surprise and forcing you to hold onto him for support.

"Satoru! I'm gonna get you all bloody with this hand..." You softly protest.

"Don't care," He murmurs quickly, leaning in again and kissing like you don't need to breathe. "It's mine anyway. Just like you."

"Mmph—Satoru—but you need to get looked at properly," You manage to say. "We have to go."

He reluctantly lets you slip out of his arms, sighing as he straightens to his full height.

He groans loudly, frowning at you, "Party pooper!"

"Yeah, yeah, get yourself ready," You fold your arms, acting like you didn't just immensely enjoy that.

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks as his eyes scan your body.

"What?" You ask petulantly.

He sounds more excited than you’d like, “So…no more shirt?”

You sigh, exasperated, and quickly smooth the shirt back over your body. He laughs and wraps himself around your smaller form, squishing you back against his chest. You relax against him, digging your nose into him, taking in his comforting scent. You both are silent for a few moments, soaking up each other's presence.

“That was scary,” You whisper.

Gojo sighs, “It was pathetic, that’s what it was.”

You snap your head up to look at him. “Hey. What are you saying?”

He shakes his head, looking frustrated. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just…let’s just head back.”

“Satoru…” You start with a warning tone.

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now,” He says flatly. “Besides, we should go back and see Shoko just in case. I want you to get looked over, too."

You want to question him further, but hold your tongue. You know better than to press him when he’s like this.

“Huh? Why’s that?” You simply ask instead, genuinely confused.

He frowns as he looks at your head, scrutinizing it as if something was wrong. Before you can question him, he forms a fist and–

Knock, knock.

“You think it’s in there?” He asks seriously. “Sounds pretty hollow.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief at the absolute disrespect. There’s no way he just knocked on your skull to check if your brain is still in your head.

“GOJO SATORU! Are you- are you implying I don’t have a BRAIN?!” You screech, taking hold of his sorcerer jacket to jostle him around. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He laughs, then uses the same fist to roughly rub your scalp. He even gave you a fucking noogie!!

“That’s it! Take me to Shoko.” You pout, crossing your arms and turning around so your back faces Gojo.

“Aww, sweets, you want a second opinion?” He coos, moving forward to wrap his arms around you from behind. “I’m sure she’ll be able to confirm it…”

“Ugh!”

"...with how willingly you throw yourself into danger."

You stop smiling. "What?"

He's not smiling either, and its absence looks strange on his face. His gaze is almost cold. "Don't do that again."

There are no words that come to your mind, but you wish you could protest and justify your actions and convince him that it was necessary. Instead, you stand there dumbly, transfixed by his cold aura.

Then he smiles sweetly again, as if that hadn't just happened. "Let's go, shall we?"

Shoko sighs loudly at your arrival. "What was it this time?"

"Actually, we're not sure," You admit, looking to Gojo to see if he has any possible answers. When he says nothing, you continue, "We didn't see what—or rather who–it was. 'Must have been a cursed user."

"Even Mr. Six Eyes didn't see them?" Shoko asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's hard to believe. And here I was always thinking he should leave some eyes for the rest of us."

She looks to Gojo teasingly, but he doesn't take the bait. Shoko looks to you with a questioning gaze that says something like—what's up with him?

"It's complicated..." You supply vaguely.

"Well, whoever it was must be bad news," She says. "How did they get Gojo if you couldn't see them?"

"They had guns," You explain. "It was a sniper...or a few snipers, I'm not sure if it was just one or if there was another one too. Their aim wasn't the best, but they got Satoru one time...they shot a few rounds at us, but I guess they got lucky with that shot."

You can't look at him. If you look at him, you'll see his skin pale and washed out from the blood dripping down his abdomen. You'll see his body lacerated and unrecognizable from Toji's ruthless assault. You are always useless, hopelessly useless.

You look at your feet instead and ignore the sour taste of bile in your mouth.

Gojo's cocky snicker brings you back to attention, "They were pretty terrible. They only got one hit, but they should have known better. As if that loser shit would work against me."

Shoko's eyes are on you again, and you know why. Gojo doesn't normally get injured. And by someone with nothing more than a gun? How could he even get hit with Infinity?

Even if you were speaking, you're not sure you would have the strength to tell her. It's my fault he didn't have his Infinity on, is the answer that resonates painfully in your chest. The guilt threatens to consume you whole, but you push it down.

"Everything is 'loser shit' to you with RCT," Shoko decides on. "But I have to say I'm just a little surprised you got hit."

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm all good now," Gojo says dismissively.

"Let me see at least," Shoko rolls her eyes. "Aren't you here to see me for my medical expertise or what?"

"What, we can't see our dear friend otherwise?" You tease with a pout. "You wound me, Shoko."

"That wouldn't be ethical of me,” Shoko plays along, then turns back to doctor mode once she starts getting her supplies ready. "Did you get hurt too?"

“No, just Satoru,” You say with a shake of your head. “You don’t have to check me over.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “I’ll come back to you.”

“Huh? But Shoko…” You trail off, seeing she has already begun inspecting Gojo.

“I’m all good,” Gojo rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t have quite the usual touch of playfulness it usually does. “C’mon, Shoko, don’t waste your time on this. We both know I can’t really get hurt.”

He winks at you, and you smile in return. That almost makes you feel better—he’s being more like himself.

“Uh-huh, but they certainly won’t let me rest until I do a proper check-up,” Shoko says. “You’ve got a persistent one, did ya know?”

He only chuckles at that, giving her some peace to look him over and prod him here or there.

“Well, you’re all good, as expected. It doesn’t seem like there’s any soreness, which is a good sign.”

“My RCT isn’t just for show!” Gojo says proudly. “Works just as good as yours, Shoko.”

She rolls her eyes, “Uh huh. Now, let’s get on to your ‘sweets’.”

You stick your tongue out at her, blushing, “Shoko, I have a name!”

“Not in these parts,” She teases easily, waggling her eyebrows at you. “Alright, just sit up straight for me now. Just gonna prod you a bit, okay?”

You nod, unworried as you let her hands inspect you. You relax and are about to crack a joke about getting a free massage from bestie Shoko, but you find yourself writhing in pain instead. You definitely didn’t expect yourself to wince—and yet you find yourself doing so, hissing out in pain as a stinging suddenly surfaces on your back.

Gojo sits up in alarm at your reaction and quickly jumps up from his cot, making his way over to you and Shoko. “What’s wrong?”

He’s practically hovering over you before Shoko shoos him away with a wave of her hand, motioning for him to let her do her job. He keeps away, but his gaze is trained on the spot her hand is touching.

She lifts your shirt fully, carefully inspecting the wound. It’s bleeding steadily, yet neither of you even noticed it before this moment.

“You got hit?” Gojo practically mewls. He’s never sounded this small and weak before. “But you were—I thought you were fine..."

Now it makes sense why your hand was tinged red when you pulled your hand back from the shirt earlier. It wasn't from Satoru's wound at all—it's your blood.

When you turn to Satoru, you look into a mirror. You know that's how you must have looked earlier when you looked at his bullet wound in horror.

“You probably didn’t feel it because of the adrenaline," You hear Shoko telling you. "It appears to be a graze, but it got you pretty good. There’s no bullet or shrapnel, which might be why you didn’t feel it in the moment.”

You feel embarrassed for some reason. “I seriously didn’t feel anything…it’s fine, then, right?”

Satoru is pale again. Emotions swirl in his agitated eyes—you can’t quite decipher them, since they cycle so fast, but he looks…haunted.

But he shouldn't, not when everything boils down to being your fault.

You immediately turn your attention to Satoru, becoming apprehensive about the look in his eyes. You smile at him softly, eyes crinkling along with your lips, trying to signal that you’re really okay, that there’s nothing to worry about.

But you don’t see the pool of blood steadily growing behind you, Satoru does.

“I’m okay, Satoru,” You smile, but it falters when Shoko presses gauze against your wound.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Shoko sighs. “Lay on your stomach and try not to move too much. I'm going to wrap you, okay? I need to grab some things, but I’ll be right back.”

"Okay..." You accept softly, still surprised by this turn of events.

You obey Shoko's orders and begin to lower yourself onto the hospital bed. You grit your teeth when the skin on your back stretches, irritating your newly discovered wound. You blink once and suddenly he's by your side, holding you steady and angling you so your back doesn't have movement while he gently lays you down.

"Thanks," You say. "I'm fine though, Satoru, really..."

“You don’t see yourself,” He speaks lowly, quietly. “Worry about yourself some.”

You’re left reeling at his words—more so by how he says them. His voice is so weak, uncharacteristically soft and completely candid.

“I’m fine,” You insist, shaking your head. “I didn’t even feel it. It can’t be so bad then, can it?”

You don’t miss the way Gojo’s jaw sets. He didn’t like that response. You see something you don't understand in his eyes, a flash of a strong emotion you didn’t anticipate. You avert your gaze, but it’s burned into the back of your eyes.

The click of Shoko’s heels alerts you of her return. Gojo watches his old friend carefully, taking in her furrowed brow and the way her eyes jump between your wound and her supplies, analyzing. She seems confused, as if she underestimated the severity of your wound. His hands curls into fists, watching your blood drip over the edge of the bed and dropping messily onto the ground below.

Shoko pulls her gloves on swiftly, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and preparing it for application.

“Sit tight, my friend,” Shoko tells you with a deep exhale. “I gotta get started on this. First I’m going to sterilize it, then you’re going to need stitches. I’m sorry to say we won’t have the luxury of time to sedate you for that.”

You gulp. Your pain tolerance is okay, but you really hate the feeling of anticipating pain. Knowing something will hurt is infinitely more scary to you than getting injured in battle, when your adrenaline is high and it just happens without warning.

You reach your hand out hesitantly, feeling silly for needing comfort just for a few stitches, and are surprised by the immediate grasp on your hand. It’s tight but not uncomfortable; it’s warm and it grounds you.

You grit your teeth and try to limit your whimpers of pain as she treats your wound. You can’t stop yourself from squirming when the needles pulls at your skin again and again, even when she places a heavy hand on your back to hold you in place. All throughout, Gojo’s hand squeezes yours, carrying you through this uncomfortable ordeal.

When it’s finally over, you feel exhausted.

“You did great,” Shoko praises you. “Your wound should be all good for now.”

You let out a small chuckle of relief, almost giddy to be done with the dreaded stitches. You sit up and slide off the bed, wanting to get back on your feet to feel some normalcy, to convince yourself you’re fine.

You truly felt nothing before, but it must be catching up to you now. Your knees threaten to buckle under you as dizziness overtakes you—you wobble on your two feet.

Both Shoko and Gojo rush to you, each taking a side to support you.

“You lost a considerable amount of blood,” Shoko warns in her doctorly tone. “Slow down and take it easy from now on.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head, “I’m good! Just stood up a bit too fast.”

Shoko releases your arm, but Gojo doesn’t let go. He holds you steady, even pulling you toward him, supporting the majority of your weight.

“I can stand, y’know…” You laugh softly, finding his overprotective actions a bit amusing. But all the humor drains from the situation when you meet his gaze.

You see it in his eyes again, a dark flicker that almost makes you nervous. Before you can muster the courage to question him about it, Shoko interrupts your silent musings.

“Listen closely. I know you like to be up and about, as you just demonstrated, but I want you to limit your movement as to not disturb your stitches. A little walking should be fine, but do not exert yourself. No exercising or training for the next few days. Come see me in three days so I can clear you—if it’s looking good—for activity.”

You resist a sigh, settling on a playful roll of your eyes. “Yes, mom.”

She smirks, “Good. Now get out of here, you two, before I get your couples cooties.”

“Har, har, har,” You pretend to laugh, before sticking your tongue out at her. “Very funny, Shoko.”

It strikes you that Gojo has been unusually quiet, not joining in on your mutual jokes. When you spare a glance, you observe that his facial expression is neutral, if a bit strained. No smile, no cocky smirk. That’s uncommon.

You look at Shoko, exchanging more unspoken words with a few blinks. That confirms it—he’s acting strange.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but he know he won’t tell you here.

“Ready to go?” You ask instead.

“Ready as ever,” He tries a half smile. It’s not very convincing.

You nod and lean into him, angling your head to smile up at him. Your smile is innocent and sweet. His chest squeezes at the sight, full of a jumble of emotions. He doesn’t reveal any of them; he absently plays with a strand of your hair instead.

As you look up at him, closely examining his soulful eyes for any traces of the emotion from earlier, to see if it still lingered. But the intense emotion is gone, replaced by an even and controlled gaze, leaving you to only wonder at the clear flash of anger you saw earlier in his bright eyes.

When you come back home, Gojo is unusually quiet. He mumbles something about taking a shower when you get back, leaving your side as soon as he gets the chance. You really wouldn't mind, but he seems rather... avoidant, especially with his ensuing actions.

You plop yourself down on your couch, trying to get comfy while keeping your back straight, a nearly impossible feat. Feeling restless, you tap your foot while you watch condensation from a glass on the coffee table in front of you drip down the sides. With each drop that falls, your heart beats a little faster.

You prepared a cool glass of water and a bowl of Satoru’s favorite sweets for when he's done, anticipating a binge of a show you both recently discovered. But, instead of an evening full of your usual snuggles on the couch, him getting handsy while you ‘protest’ about missing the show, you are woken up to a different reality.

When you hear the click of the bathroom door, you straighten in your seat, excited to be close to him again. But before you can even call him over to the couch, Gojo heads straight to your bedroom. You wait a few minutes, assuming he's just changing, but you grow uneasy as the time ticks by.

Maybe he just wants space. Well, how long should you give him? Should you ask him if he wants space? But what if he's waiting for you? Does he just want to be in bed instead?

You wait and wait, tapping your foot anxiously on the floor and checking your phone every few minutes. When the supposed appropriate amount of time has passed, you hesitantly approach the bedroom.

You find yourself knocking on the door before you enter, even though you've never done that to your shared door before.

"Hey, Satoru?" You call out tentatively.

You stand in the doorway, scared to cross an invisible boundary. A sheepish smile is on your face, even though you try to get your lips to stretch normally.

He's on his phone, just scrolling. Oh, maybe he just got distracted by TikTok or something.

"Hm?" He barely responds, not even looking up.

“Is something bothering you?” You ask, worried. “Is it your side?”

“Why would it be my side?” Gojo asks flatly.

Your brow creases in confusion, but you try to keep a light tone. “Oh. Uh, what’s wrong, then?”

"Nothing, why would anything be wrong?" He gives you a tight-lipped smile. His tone is so strange—bordering on sarcastic—and you don’t know what to make of it. As he stands up and passes you, slipping out of the room hastily like you are what’s bothering him. The thought turns your stomach.

You pause for a beat, frozen in the doorway as you process what just happened. Then you turn around, eyes following his form as he enters the living room and unceremoniously sprawls across the couch. He crunches on some candy you brought in the bowl.

Okay. Maybe you should be more direct.

You walk over to him, cautious but trying not to appear nervous, “Satoru, can we talk?”

“We are talking,” He smiles oddly.

“You know what I mean…” You say with a note of annoyance coming through in your tone, then it turns softer. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

You blink rapidly, surprised by his blunt answer. You take a seat next to him.

“Okay…could you tell me what I did?”

“…”

He’s not faking a smile anymore, which is a start. His lips are set in a firm, flat line, instead. His jaw is clenched and his neck muscles are emphasized due to how taut they are; you have rarely seen him tense like this. Your chest aches—what did you do?

“Please, Satoru, what’s wrong?” You ask again, each word filled with care and concern. And somehow, it seems to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” He echoes back loudly. “What’s wrong is that you stood in front of me while there was incoming fire! You can’t just do that.”

That’s not what you expected.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

“I just– fuck, why would you think to do that?” He stresses, pulling at his hair. “You took too much risk—you can’t use RCT!”

“Yeah, me and like ninety-nine percent of all sorcerers. Like it matters. You think I thought of that?” You huff.

“‘Like it matters?’ Are you hearing yourself right now?” He scoffs. “It matters a lot, and you know it does. It’s reckless.”

“When it comes to you, it doesn’t.” You say hotly, unwavering.

“It does matter. You got hurt when you shouldn’t have. When you didn’t need to!”

You’re surprised by his outburst. “I–I was only thinking about protecting you, okay? I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking about that! Caring about getting hurt? That was the last thing on my mind.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious you weren’t thinking,” He sneers. “There’s no need to risk your life like that. Absolutely no need.”

Your jaw drops in shock, and you try not to feel hurt. “You can’t be serious right now, Gojo. You were in no state to protect yourself. I was…doing my best, I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“I still got shot,” He argues back immediately, painfully reminding you.

A small, pained gasp escapes you. You spin around as fast as you can—tears are freely falling without your permission.

You want to tell him that’s not fair, but you don’t trust your vocal cords right now. Not with how tight your throat is from trying to hold back sobs that would surely wrack your body if you let them.

The guilt that has been trailing you all day now collects at the pit of your stomach, practically eating you alive. You feel physically sick. He’s right. He did get shot. He was vulnerable, his Infinity lowered because of you. If…if the bullet had gone through his head, what could you have done then?

You stand up as steadily as you can. You don’t spare him a single glance; you can’t, not with your face crumpling as you try your hardest not to cry. You exit the living room swiftly, holding it all in, all of your emotional pain but also your physical pain. Your wound is throbbing and it even feels hard to stay standing right now.

You finally round the corner into the hallway. Now out of view, you let yourself stagger down the hallway, succumbing to your dizziness. It’s your fault, your fault, only your fault. You can’t handle this right now.

You walk aimlessly down the hall, just wanting to get away from him right now. You wind up in the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You stand in front of the mirror, looking for something redeeming within yourself, but all you can see are your pathetic tears and guilt swimming in your eyes.

You grip the edge of the counter, so tightly that it begins to hurt and your fingers tremble at the effort. You feel unsteady, like the brain Gojo teased you don’t have is lacking oxygen. Maybe you really lack one if you think you could possibly be the right match for the strongest.

You sink to the ground, finally releasing heaving sobs that have been trying to claw themselves out of you. They’re muffled by your hands, which you press firmly against your mouth in an effort to contain your noises, but some of the sound leaks between your fingers. You stuff some of your shirt into your mouth to bite down on, trying to hold it all in, trying to hold yourself together.

Your breath hitches at a throb of pain from deep within your back. It hurts so much, even with the pain reliever Shoko gave you to take. It hurts more than when she was threading the needle between your folds of skin; it’s deeper than that, sharp and intense and robbing you of a normal breathing pattern.

Despite your efforts to keep quiet, pained whimpers start to leave you. And worse—panic floods you, taking advantage of your poor state of mind. All you can focus on is the stabbing pain that refuses to dull.

You rip off the gauze with shaking hands, terrified to see its state. But confusion fills you when there's only dried smears on it—that must be from earlier. If your wound is still closed, then why does it hurt so much?

You shift on the floor, limbs giving out. You contort in pain, which only makes things worse, pulling the stitches to their limits. They stay intact, but the tension brings waves of pain to your back. A yelp is ripped from your throat at a particularly painful pulse.

The thunder of incoming footsteps gives you both fear and a sense of relief. On one hand, you didn’t want him to hear; on another hand, right now all you crave is your boyfriend’s comfort.

“Hey, what was that?” He asks from behind the door, sounding on edge.

“Satoru…” You mewl out in pain.

He calls out your name, voice now urgent. You cringe at the resistance of the lock against his attempt at opening the door.

“M’sorry, I locked it,” You sniffle. “Stupid of me.”

But he still appears in front of you, a locked door holding nothing to his defiance of space and time. He takes one glance at your crumpled form on the floor and curses. All of the tension from earlier melts away, replaced by genuine worry and need.

“What happened? You okay? Did you fall?” He asks as he hurriedly crouches next to you. His hands reach out to you, gently pulling you into his lap. You wince as your back bends, aggravating your wound.

You shake your head. “No, it’s just—agh, fuck—just my back, it suddenly hurts so bad.”

He grimaces. “Can…can I take a look?”

You give your consent and he quickly peels your shirt up. His fingers shake as he does so, even though he doesn’t mind the sight of injuries or blood. Or, at least, when it’s not yours.

He slowly pulls your shirt up just enough to reveal your wound, fearing the worst. You shiver when the fabric chafes against your graze, and he murmurs an apology upon seeing your discomfort. One of his hands rubs soothing circles on your waist.

When he inspects your injury, he’s met with red, puffy skin—the area around your stitches is clearly inflamed, but not unsually so. He breathes a low sigh of relief.

“It looks a bit swollen,” He determines before pulling your shirt back down, careful not to let it touch your wound this time. “But not too bad.”

“It feels bad,” You whine.

"I know," He says gently. “I’ll call Shoko in a second to make sure it's alright. Do you want to head to the bed first?"

“Yes, please,” You request softly.

He hooks an arm under your knees, the other cradling your back. “Alright, sweets. Up we go."

He handles your weight like it’s nothing, and easily unlocks the door you stupidly locked on the way out.

Unshed tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t carry him earlier, even after he had been shot and couldn’t move. You are incapable, unable to handle what he can on a daily basis. Can your relationship really be mutual if he always has to act as the strongest? You could barely protect him earlier.

"It hurts that badly?" He references your teary eyes without mockery, only softness.

If only your tears were from that pain.

"It could be worse, I guess," is what you settle on, neither a lie nor the full truth.

"Could I make it better, maybe?" He asks with a suspicious smile. Before you can answer, he swings you around a few times like he normally would when he carries you, which draws a genuine laugh out of you.

"You're gonna make me dizzy!" You complain, but your smile is so pure and wide, something Gojo doesn't miss.

"You're so beautiful, sweets," He says, affectionately rubbing his nose against yours. You feel warm from the closeness.

You look away shyly, "Yeah, right."

"You don't believe me?" He asks huskily, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Ugh! Put me down and call Shoko already! It stills hurts," You pout.

"If you say so," He says, but his little smirk is still planted on his face. He lays you down carefully, gently releasing you onto the pile of blankets.

He then turns around and dials the doctor in question, "Yo, Shoko."

You close your eyes, trying to ward off the radiating pain with deep breaths. Gojo's phone call turns to background noise, the words indecipherable.

You tune back into the world at the end of his conversation.

"Okay, thank you so much Ieiri."

You faintly hear Shoko's disgust on the other end of the line, "What's going on with you?? Please never thank me like that again, yuck!"

You can't hold back the giggle that bubbles up at Shoko's reaction. Gojo blows a raspberry into the speaker and promptly hangs up on her.

"What's the verdict?" You ask.

"Well, sweets," Gojo sing-songs. "Did you forget to do something?"

You look up in thought, your brows furrowing, "I don't think so..."

"Really?" He says, then produces a familiar orange pill container. You're forced to stare at it as he shakes it in front of your face. "What about this, hm?"

"What? I already took one," You say, a little indignantly. "When we first got home. It was so horrible tasting and was a giant horse pill, too...Ugh, get that bottle away from me, might as well throw it out. I don't want to take anymore later."

He cracks the bottle open, pouring one into his palm. You narrow your eyes at him. Before you can ask what he intends to do with it, that same pill is shoved into your mouth followed by an amount of water so large that you almost begin to choke.

You cough on the water, and he pats your back accordingly, as if he expected this.

"What-?! Are you trying to waterboard me? I said I already took one, and-" You cough again. "God, where did you even get that water from anyway?"

"Mm. But you didn't notice the pill this time, right?" He looks satisfied with himself.

You deadpan. "No, but-"

"Besides, you were spacing out before we left the infirmary. Shoko specifically said to take two pills when you came home, or else the pain might get bad."

Your face feels hot, "Oh, did she now? Hah hah...I must have misheard her..."

He sighs, and it's only now you notice how tired he looks. There's a lull in your conversation, and you use this time to truly observe him. Dark circles are prominent under his eyes—how come you never noticed that?—and his eyes hold a look of defeat.

He breaks the silence, speaking softly, "You worry me, y'know? When I came in and you were convulsing on the floor...I don't want to see you like that again."

You stay silent, not willing to risk jeopardizing this rare moment of complete and utter vulnerability from Gojo.

"And when Shoko lifted your shirt and there was so much blood pouring out of your back..." He closes his eyes, screwing them shut. "I didn't know what would happen. That really scared me. Even when Shoko said you'd be fine, I didn't believe her until it stopped. And even then, you looked so weak...you still do, and it kills me."

He looks down at the ground, between his hands that are interlocked so tightly that it looks like it would hurt.

"It fucking kills me inside that you got hurt protecting me, and you didn't even notice. If that bullet had come any closer, you-"

He stops abruptly, voice breaking. You reach forward, taking his large hands in yours.

"But it didn't. Look at me, Satoru. I'm fine, I really am. I promise."

He shakes his head vehemently, and you're shocked to see liquid trickle down his face. You almost startle when he embraces you so tightly that you can barely breathe, as if you could disappear at any moment. His head rests on your shoulder, effectively hiding his expression from view.

He whispers by your ear, "What's the use in being the strongest when I freeze up like that? I put you in so much fucking danger."

"Satoru, look at me," You ask again, but his head stays tucked in the crevice between your shoulder and collarbone. "Please."

He slowly raises his head, revealing the expression he tried to conceal. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are tinged pink; it makes your heart hurt.

"You're not the strongest to me," You say. "You're not even Gojo Satoru. To me, you're Satoru. Just Satoru. You're human and have emotions and memories and trauma, just like everyone else."

You steel yourself for your next words, the ones that have been haunting your thoughts since he got shot.

"I know that what happened reminded you of that...that time with Toji. I-it felt the same for me, and this time...this time I couldn't stand to watch idly. I would rather die than watch that happen to you again. Especially since, this time, it was definitely my fault."

"Your fault?" He laughs dryly.

"Yes!" You instantly cry out, causing his eyes to widen.

"Haven't you realized by now?" You practically sob. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't been touching you. Because your Infinity lowered for me—fuck, it makes me sick saying this out loud—they were able to really hurt you. I'm the one endangering you, and i-if this keeps up then..."

He says nothing. Now that you admitted it, there's no taking it back. And there's no way that he can or should accept this. There's no way he should accept you, you who are so useless and weak and stubborn. And yet...

"That's all?" He says seriously. You're struck with a flash of frustration and anger at his dismissal, but the hard look in his eyes tells you he is just as frustrated and will not budge on this point.

"We'll be more careful. It's a lesson learned for sure, but I'm not giving you up anytime soon. That's what you wanted me to say, isn't it? That I was going to let you go."

You look down shamefully, "W-well..."

He barks out a sharp laugh, "That's not happening. Do you know why?"

You avoid his gaze, and your voice comes out small. "You pity me?"

"I love you." His voice is firm and so sure; it leaves no room for doubt.

Your eyes snap back to his. There’s no bandages or glasses in the way to obscure the emotion shimmering in them—an endless sea of affection and intensity and something else that you couldn’t capture in words even if you tried. Love.

He loves you.

“I love you, so you can’t be reckless. You just can’t, okay? I’ve been going crazy knowing you got hurt, but I couldn’t handle it if…” He takes a sharp breath. “It’s selfish of me, but I don’t fucking care. Nothing can happen to you. I’ll take all of your hits and all of your missions if it means you’ll be safe. You’re the one person I can’t handle losing.”

“Then you’ll understand I feel the same way,” You say with a determined look on your face. “It’s not like I planned to do what I did. It was all instinct. I didn’t care what would happen to me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” He admits, voice raw and so unlike his usual self-assured tone. “You don’t value yourself enough. You matter so much, sweets, more than I could ever say in words. I’d do anything for you, to keep you safe.”

You counter, “And I would die for you, Satoru, because I love you. And I wouldn’t ever regret it.”

Your determined admission renders him silent.

Then he chuckles, “You’re stubborn, aren’t you, sweets? Of course you sound all cute and mad the first time you tell me you love me.”

Your eye twitches, but you exhale into a smile. “Maybe. But so are you!”

“How about this?” He proposes. “How about we both stay alive, live happily ever after, and drink boba and eat kikufuku for the rest of our days?”

“I think I know where this is going,” You say, suspicion clear in your voice. But you can’t stop the way your heart jumps at his words, the insinuation of spending the rest of your days with Satoru making you weak inside.

“Well, sweets, I have an idea,” He says softly, but his words are filled with excitement.

“Hmm?” You muse, playing along. “What is it?”

“I think we need a sweet treat to make us feel better. Don’t you think so? Maybe we could…check out that boba place I talked about earlier?”

“The one ‘I’ said I wanted to go to?” You ask, using air quotes and shaking your head in amusement.

“That’s the one!” He grins, throwing himself around your form. He squeezes you tightly, nuzzling into your neck. “I love you so much that I’ll treat you, seeing as you want to go so badly. Not that I really wanted to go or anything…”

“You’re such a bad liar!” You laugh, pinching his cheek. “But, Satoru…I meant what I said.”

You look at him seriously, not willing to let this slide. You don’t expect him to match your intense energy, but he does.

“So did I. You don’t have to worry about that anymore, because I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll always be here for you, sweets. I’ll always protect you. You can try, but I’ll never make that mistake again. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, so I won’t let it. I love you too much to let it happen.”

Your heart feels like it could burst. You sniffle, not able to hold the tears back.

“Aw, is my baby crying?” He teases, gently thumbing the tears away from your cheeks. “You okay?”

“Mhm, just happy,” You nod and let out a watery laugh. “Hey, Satoru.”

“Yeah?” He hums.

“Do you love me enough to give me the last kikufuku later?”

You expect him to joke along with you, but he’s perfectly serious in his words back. Only you seem to have that effect on him.

“Even that,” He chuckles along with you, unbridled warmth and affection swimming in his baby blues as he gazes at you, eyes never leaving your form. “Even that, sweets.”

gojo masterlist <3

A/N: I don’t feel like this is the highest quality writing, but I felt really compelled to write this for some reason, so…oh well! <3 I hope it still turned out okay.

Also Satoru definitely should have apologized but I feel like he’s stubborn and hates apologizing so I left that out <3

I think this is the first time I've managed to not use (Y/N) HAHA, sometimes I see comments on other posts about how much it disturbs their immersive experience, so I'm going to try to limit my usage of it from now on...personally, I've seen and used it for so long that it's just part of my x reader vocabulary, but I understand why people don't like it lol.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you had a great day today !! <333

[florabellalove]

LET ME SPEAK MY TRUTH 🦢🫶🏼

sometimes I just want to read a reverse comfort fic about some big burly character absolutely breaking down, call it a saviour kink or whatever but there seems to be an absence in this world

[iamnotdeadyet]

Hiii! I have been reading your works and theyre honestly really good! Keep it up!! ♥️♥️ id like to request a bf gojo and a chubby reader bc i havent been feeling that confident lately and there isnt much chubby reader content 😅😓

Please and thank youuu ♥️♥️🐄

Thank you for your supportttt♥︎♥︎ since you're my first request , here's a star.☆ if you cant see it, its because your beauty outshines it.♥︎

A full course meal

|| Bf!Gojo Satoru x Chubby!Reader

Gojo Satoru liked your body, loved and worshiped it even. That was merely a fact.

But he enjoyed it more when you liked it too. After all he didn't want you covering your plump hips by wearing baggy clothes and he sure as hell didn't like it when you avoided face sitting. It was his favourite part of the day! COming home after a mission and releasing some stress by making your fat cunt cum on his tongue while you took the breath away from him-literally and figuratively he likes both dw.

So when out of the blue you just start avoiding it, he starts to get concerned. Did he overdo it? But you said you liked it! Was he getting worse? With the way your pretty pussy was squirting on him and your thighs trembled around his head, he didn't think so. So why? And what better way to figure out than to ask you?

"Well...i..."

"Hm? You what? You're drop dead gorgeous? You're hotter than the sun? I already know that, so answer my question."

Your nerves ease a bit at his cliche pick-ups and a chuckle leaves your lips involutarly.

"I...I'm too heavy..." It comes out as a mumble but by god...when he even catches a hint of the word 'heavy' he wants to laugh out loud.

But he has sense and he knows it would make you feel worse rather than showing he didn't agree at all. So for once, he lets his actions do the work.

And by that i mean he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes-or rather a towel after shower, because that's what he made it look like.

"Heavy? You're not 'heavy'. The only thing heavy here is my love for you and that pretty plump ass of yours, babe."

And that's how he carried you around the whole day. Bridal style, princess style, piggyback, nelson, it didn't matter. He was determined to show you that you weighted NOTHING to him and that it was NOTHING to worry about.

And honestly...after that and how he kept you close to him while you cuddled and watched a cheesy rom-com...you dont think you could wish for more.

"Youre my full course meal of a girlfriend, babe~♥︎ It doesn't matter what other people say, mkay?" He says as he kisses your forehead goodnight. "And dont forget that!"

You're sure you look and sound like a lovesick fool when you tell him you love him but hey. At least you're both lovesick fools with a happy end.♥︎

°•°•°•°°••°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°☆

iamnotdeadyet owns this

[flowerbedbaby]

"I don't get nighterrors" Simon Riley

Simon is a military man, he's seen a lot of horrible things. He's going to have nighterrors at the least.

I'm just picturing that it's maybe 3am, you're laying in bed with Simon, and he starts having a panic attack in his sleep, naturally you get closer to him to try and help, but in this terrified state of confusion, he holds onto you, but really tight, like leaving bruises tight. He never ment to, you're his precious gem, why would he ever hurt you?? He'll wake up for a moment mid attack, not realizing what's happening, but you don't care, you love him too much, you need to make sure he's okay. After you calm him down, and talk things out, the both of you fall asleep, you don't even worry about the dark bruises forming from his grip. When morning comes, Simon is the first to wake up, so naturally he looks at you when he does, but this time he notices your shirt pulled up a little bit, and that's when it all comes crashing down. How could he do that?? Will you hate him? What's wrong with him? Why is he so evil? He starts bombarding his own mind with these questions. He wakes you up in fear and constantly apologizes for hurting you so bad, you constantly have to remind him throughout the day that you still love him and he did nothing wrong.

~a little something I was thinking about hehe

[fictoculus]

౨ৎ nightmares.

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SYNOPSIS... sumeru has undergone a lot of changes, and adults can now dream. this new capability was welcomed with open arms by people all across the region, however some slumber-induced fantasies were more welcome than others... - aka; comforting your husband, alhaitham, after he experiences his first nightmare

"haitham!!!"

you cry out to him, desperation heavy in your eyes as you hold firm eye contact with your beloved. it was no use; you were falling, and he couldn't do anything to help you. further and further, it seems to alhaitham like your body is shrinking, and in all honesty, you wish it was. you wish you could fly, or at least slow down the fall by even a second, and take in as much of him as you can before you inevitably meet your demise. you wanted to remember every last part of him, to love him in life and in death, just like you promised.

you knew you were going to die, you knew this was the end, but in your last moment, you smile. you didn't want to face the love of your life with anything other than joy plastered on your face; you wanted so badly for alhaitham's last memory of you to be a happy one, but how could he possibly be happy when the person he would take lives for loses their own?

before he knew it, it was all over as fast as it had started. you were gone, and he couldn't do anything about it, you weren't coming back. just like that, you were nothing but a memory.

he didn't want to believe it. he wouldn't. how could he possibly admit that he'd lost you?

he wants to cry, to scream, to yell and curse at the cruel world that had taken you from him, but he couldn't. it was as if something had been lodged deep inside his throat, a lump he couldn't possibly push out no matter how hard he tried. perhaps it was the love he had for you, or the knowledge that no matter how close you felt, you'd always be just out of reach.

that's when it hits him, a soaring pain slamming into his back and flowing through his veins; the cruel poison of fate. he tries to put up a fight, archons he tries, but his mind is elsewhere, and he can't seem to pull his eyes away from the speck that is your lifeless body laying hundreds of metres below him. this is it, it's all over, everything he's lived for, coming to an end at the hands of a measly -

"NO!"

the bed shakes as alhaitham shoots up from under the covers, eyes wide and breath heavy, clawing at the fabric of his sleeping shirt as he attempts to ground himself. what in teyvat was that?

it's dark. he can't see, he can't breathe. he's overcome by pure panic as he tries desperately to regain his senses, but to no avail.

"mmm... 'haitham? you ok?"

your scratchy voice breaks through the pounding in his chest, calling out to him in a hushed whisper as you run a hand up and down his arm. he feels clammy. a thin sheen of sweat covers his arms, reflecting the soft moonlight off his toned figure.

"love?"

no response. the poor man is so shaken up, and i mean that quite literally; he can't seem to keep still. you feel the mattress tremble beneath you as his chest heaves, taking in as much air as he possibly can. it's futile. he's scared.

he knows what nightmares are. he knows how they work, where they come from, how they can affect you, but never in his life has he ever had one. in fact, it's been years since he's even dreamt.

with alhaitham sat up rigid beside on the edge of the bed, you try to rack your brain, taking yourself back to the times you had woken up distressed, and how your beloved boyfriend had cradled you in his arms, murmuring sweet nothings in you ear while rocking the two of you back and forth.

"c'mere..."

you smile up at him with open arms, yet nothing could hide the concern in your eyes as you noticed the glisten on his cheeks.

"oh, love..."

with you're right hand, you reach up to cup his face, catching the salty droplets with the soft padding of your thumb. his cheeks are rosy, from stress or embarrassment you'll never know, but the faint pink hue makes him look oh so pretty.

"was it a nightmare?"

he nods sheepishly into your chest, nuzzling his face further into your shirt as he inhales deeply and lets out a shaky sigh. you feel his hands clutching onto the back of your shirt, as if he was scared he'd lose you, as if he was scared you'd fall out of his grasp once more.

it's almost endearing how he clings to you, though you're completely clueless as to the reason why. nevertheless, you hold him tightly against you, encircling him in your warmth and your scent as you gently begin to sway from side to side, lifting up his chin and peppering tender kisses all over his face and down his neck. it's grounding, the feeing of you. no matter what, you never fail to calm him, to comfort him in his times of need, and he is more than willing to return the favour.

an hour passes and alhaitham still insists on being wrapped in your arms, refusing to give in to sleep, no matter how enticing it may be as the night moves forward. he feels the need to watch over you, and you're more than happy to comply; in your eyes, it just means the two of you get to spend more time together.

it's a known fact that the scholar doesn't like to dwell, and so the two of you completely disregard the elephant in the room, instead focusing on mundane topics like what to have for dinner the next day, or your schedules for the week: typical married couple stuff.

finally, while listening to you defend his old roommate and close friend, kaveh, after 20 minutes worth of ruthless criticism, your husband slips into a deep slumber, his features finally relaxed as he lies beside you.

you have to admit, he makes you worry. always being so uptight and serious can't possibly be good for him, though in this moment, despite what he endured earlier that night, you think this is the most at peace you've ever seen him...

A/N... sorry if the ending seemed kinda sudden,, i couldn't come up with anything elseee sighh

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST…@maopll . @nyxmainex . @avensuersa . @moondrop-gummies. @lacunaanonymoused ➛ apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[slyvieselkie]

Your Eyes - Sakusa Kiyoomi

Check out my masterlist for more!

Warning: slightly suggestive at the end

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙

Sakusa is insecure about not being a good boyfriend, expressive or affectionate.

Kiyoomi Sakusa is not prince charming, one could say he was the complete opposite. He was honest and blunt about how he felt, the things he disliked. Sakusa hated germs and crowds, he avoided people as much as possible. The only he had going for him was his looks and volleyball, which didn't compensate for much.

That's why Sakusa realised he spent all of his luck on dating you. The 'everyone's friend' girl, the personification of bubbly, and cuteness all in one bundle. The world let out a gasp when you two revealed your relationship, why and how did this happen? Don't ask him, everything happened in a blink of an eye and now he has the sunshine next to him everyday.

And it's not he treats you differently. You two don't really touch, the most that happens is a hug in private. View this incident here.

Evidence #1 - At School

It's been a week since he's started dating you and Sakusa's getting tired of the stares. Yes, he understands that you two shouldn't be together-get over it!

"Ha ha, everyone's a little restless about the news eh?", Motoya laugh trying to lift the spirits up but its not working.

He lets out a sigh behind the mask, maybe he should just break up with you? It seems like a shitty thing to do, but this is getting a little ridiculous.

"Sakun~! Good morning~!", confused he turns around and sees you lunging for him.

You've clearly just woken up from the way there are strands sticking out at the back. There's also a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth, like always. And the way you're running tells him that you forgot some books today, most likely History.

Instincts take over and he slides to the left, you blink in confusion as the ground suddenly zooms towards you. Motoya jaws drop as you face plant and lie flat on the ground, others also gather around and some make a side-glance at Sakusa. However, he doesn't do a single thing. You giggle and wave everyone off, turning to the boy with beam. Everyone frowns as the two of you walk off.

Verdict: should've helped you up but didn't

He doesn't really talk much, you mainly chat his ear off, and when he does its always a diss.

Evidence #2 - Shopping with your sister

On a rare day where Sakusa agrees to go out with you, the two of you follows your older sister to go shopping since she has all of the membership cards. While she's a little weirded by him, the kid is nothing like how you describe him, she's willing to give him a chance.

At first he's polite, he thanks you for buying him a cool shirt and her for the discount. After that is where everything falls apart. She and him wait outside the dressing room for you to come out in the dress she chose.

"I'm out, how do I look?"

You look cute in the sundress with daisy prints, she grins but Sakusa goes, "You look a little chubby, and you also look ten."

Her jaws drop while you laugh, "Are you serious?! No!", and run back inside to change.

Your older sister is fuming because not only did he insult you, he insulted her eye for fashion! Unforgivable!

That's why when Sakusa leaves the table at the cafe to go to the bathroom, she's letting out everything and seething.

"That bastard, who does he think he is?! Only I get to make fun of you, call you chubby, and ten! What is he?! He's been your little boyfriend for two months and now he thinks he gets that right?!"

You soothe her by feeding her pieces of cake, "Come on, Sakun wasn't that rude and he was right", "Hey, whose side are you on right now?! What's gonna happen when you bring him home to meet our parents?! Our ancestors will roll in their graves!"

"Hey hey you're thinking a little too far!", you sigh, "He's only like that in front of people, otherwise Sakun's pretty sweet", she snorts, "So he only humiliates you in public?"

Sakusa hides behind the corner for a bit longer until she's fully calmed down. He peeks out from behind the corner and watches as you play with your earlobe, tired of trying to play civil.

He also doesn't wear the shirt just yet, it's still in his closet in the shopping bag and folded neatly.

Verdict: should've just said you looked cute

You two also rarely hang outside of school, he says you see each other everyday and he has volleyball so its not possible.

Evidence #3 - training camp (made up for plot sake)

He's been at the volleyball training camp since Monday, and only today on Wednesday has Sakusa decided to contact you. You don't call him because he most likely won't pick up or will just tell you to call back at another time.

While everyone's getting ready for sleep, Sakusa sneaks away and face-times you.

"Sakun!", you pick up after one ring and he stares down at your giddy smile, "...Hey."

You're belly-down on the bed and the mirror on the side shows your legs kicking back and forth. The volleyball player notices your hair is a little damp and small droplets drips down onto the fluffy robe you're wearing. He doesn't get to say much after that, its predominantly you telling him about what happened at school. It becomes white noise and he only tunes back in when you've trailed off.

The boy lets out a sigh, "What's wrong with you", he can see your legs have stopped as you pout and murmur, "Well, I just miss you a lot."

The ridiculousness makes him snort, "Idiot, its been two days", your whining zooming closer on the screen, ""That's sooo long though, don't you miss me~?"

Nothing is aggravating him but he shoots back, "Not at all, you're annoying as hell", you gasp and wail from the other side, "Sakun, you're so mean~!"

Sakusa entertains you for a little longer before he's hanging up.

After a tired sigh, he turns around and scowls because literally the whole camp is there watching him like a soap opera, "You fu-", "Wow you're a complete jerk", Washio shuts him down.

Everyone claps in agreement and he clicks his tongue, "Mind your own business", then Oikawa grins like the Cheshire cat, "My my, I wonder if you'll be saying that when she has a new guy~", his partner elbows him, "Shut up Shittykawa, no need to state the obvious."

He's getting pissed off now.

Then the blonde twin from Inarizaki doubles down, "I have to say, she sounds adorable and I'm sure she's pretty as well. Why don't you share her number so one of us can actually take care of her~!", the two idiots from Karasuno join in, "Here here, that's no way to treat any girl you bastard!", "Well said Nishinoya, gimme her contacts bastard!"

He rolls his eyes before focusing on that creepy captain from Nekoma smiling at him, "Captain, I have his phone!", the lankly Russian shouts running away from him.

Sakusa growls as marches over while they find your contact photo, the bikini pic you sent to him ages ago. He snatches it back while they go wild, these motherfuckers are gonna turn him into a killer.

"Damn buddy, why are you being like this?!", Sakusa hears all sorts of complaints behind him as he returns to his room.

Verdict: should've said he missed you too

No one really likes you dating him, they think he's a toxic person. And maybe he is, there's always someone calling him 'rude' or a 'jerk'. Sometimes, Sakusa wonders why you two are dating at all. What was it that you saw in him that random day you asked him out? It's completely taken over his mind, he can't focus on volleyball or school.

His frustration grows and grows as no solution appears, what the hell do people want him to do? What the hell do you want from him? What the hell does he want to do?

....

Making your way down to the front seats of the stadium, you suddenly hear your name being called. Curious you turn back and see a friend from primary school. Excitedly, the two of you run to each other and have an emotional hug comparable to the ones in the movie.

"Yeah! I'm here to support Inarizaki! You're here for Itachiyama!", you giggle and point to Sakusa, "Yeah, that's my man right there~"

She gasps excitedly at the boy's looks, "Oh my gosh, girl you caught a huge fish!", the two of you go wild and everyone else glances over uncomfortably.

As the game starts, the two of you are drawn into the intensity. Sakusa is sweating profusely as he battles against Inarizaki, eyes completely focused on the ball like a hawk. And you're sitting there silently amazed...and getting slightly hot because he's so fucking hot. He was cute and handsome before, but holy shit you caught the biggest fish there was.

Finally the game ends with Itachiyama winning and you cackling making fun of your friend, "How's it feel loser?!", "Ugh this shame! You watch next time, your boytoy is going down!", "Hey leave him out of this!"

You gasp and look down at the court to see Sakusa staring at you, immediately you were jumping up and down waving wildly, "Sakun!"

He blinks for a moment before walking off with his team, "Uhhh what was that all about?", your friend asks confused but you're too busy giggling, "He's so cute!"

As the two of you make your way out of the stadium, your friend brings it up again and you tense up feeling it start again. If it was anything else, you would've just given up at that point. But! It was your Sakun so you will defend him forever.

....

Finally free from the locker room talk, Sakusa tries to find you. He spots you quite quickly, you're facing a row of plants with a girl from Inarizaki. As the boy approaches, he can see your body shift uncomfortably and frown.

"I said we're perfectly fine", "Come on, what kind of boyfriend does that? I know you're letting him get away with being mean and rude because he's your first, but you can do so much better!"

The volleyball player froze. He watches as she suggests a few of her friends, pulling her phone to show pictures of friendly and charming guys that would suit you so much better. And nothing hurts more than the way you scan them silently, as if you're actually considering it.

Before he knows it, Sakusa is calling out to you. As the friend panics and runs away, you beam and bounce towards him like nothing happened. He stares at the distance you keep, how your hands to reach out half way but pull back after. Even as you two walk home and your talking like usual, he sees the other couples holding hands and linking arms. It makes Sakusa uncomfortable and a tight feeling grows inside him. Even now he doesn't want to hold your hand, doesn't want to scoot closer to you.

"Sakun?", oh somehow he's already at your house.

The right thing to do would be to say his farewells and go home, but he can't. You stand at the entrance and smile softly with a strange look in your eyes. His heart isn't working anymore, it knows you want to break up with him. And for the first time in your relationship, Sakusa feels horror and dread.

The boy also realises what everyone and he wants from himself, for Kiyoomi Sakusa to be normal. Why couldn't he have learnt from his verdicts, why can't he just be like everybody else? You must want the same and now that he couldn't accomplish that, you've given up.

"Sakusa", you've even stopped using the nickname, "Come here."

You pull him inside the house by his bag straps, there's no strength but he follows to get the last bits of affection he can get from you. In the living room, the two of you sit with a little distance in between. This must be your last test, his last chance. He just has to do something, hug you, kiss you, something like that? His eyes stare down at the emptiness as if it'll close up if he does.

"Sakusa", his eyes trail up to your soft smile, "I love you, and I know you love me too."

There's a lump in his throat, how do you know? No one else does, not even Sakusa himself knows.

"Can I touch you?", it takes him a few seconds to stutter a nod.

With a whisper you reach out, "Your eyes", he instinctively closes them and allows you to graze his eyelids, "They're the windows to your soul", feel his eyelashes, "And they're always following me", the skin below his eyes, "Staring at me like I'm the most precious thing."

It comes as a revelation to Sakusa, you were completely right. Even before you approached him with your confession, his eyes has always been following you from afar. Staring at the back of your head in class, trailing your flowing hair in the hallway, observing the way you spoke, smile, laughed. And then meeting your sparkling eyes on that 'random day' when everything started.

You're in his lap now, cupping his cheeks and pressing your lips against his eyes, "I hate that they've made you forget the way you look at me. Your gaze is so different from all of them. I don't have to make you laugh, have to comfort you, help you in anyway, and yet you still look I'm the prize you don't deserve."

His mask finally comes off and you coo at his deep flush, "Oh Sakun, you're the prettiest boy with the prettiest eyes and the prettiest heart", kissing his jawline.

The change in the atmosphere makes him hide away against your neck, but you still imagine to fluster him by playing with his rosy ears.

You murmur against his hair, "Never feel pressured to step out of your boundaries. It's you and I in relationship. As long as we're happy, you don't need to worry about them."

He looks up at you again like you've descended from the skies and you coo against his lips, "Just keep looking at me, don't let those eyes stray anywhere else."

Sakusa should feel embarrassed at the way he whines for you, but your kisses makes his mind go blank. And he wonders if everyone else gets as hot and dazed he's getting now. Your prettiest boy allows your voice to fill every crevice in his ears and your hands to explore him like no other. All the while meeting your hungry eyes.

....

You'll never forgive the people that made Sakusa forget he wears his heart on his sleeve. Because his love travels from his eyes to his action.

From sneaking the History book you 'forgot' in your bag, to the first pair of earrings he gifted you that looked way better, to the daily photos from that training camp he started sending after that phone call. Sakusa has always shown you that he loved you, so what if the normal people couldn't understand?

But you do have to thank them, because it was this progression that allowed you to become the centre of Sakusa's everything. His eyes, his heart, his thoughts. You smile feeling the boy dig his face into your chest, your fingers fall to his back where you trace every ripple and ridge that slightly twitch with your movements.

"H-Hey, that tickles", he stutters and you giggle hugging him tightly, "Sorry pretty boy~"

Hi Lovelies, I hoped you carnivores enjoyed pretty boy Sakusa!

One of my favourite troupes is 'scary misunderstood' guy that turns into 'shy cuddly bear' after meeting the perfect partner! *chef's kiss*

See ya (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡

[monster-mash-m]

Cat hybrid boyfriend who’s easily startled

He’s managed to earn the nickname of your little scardly cat.

Thunderstorm he’s come running to your arms crying and with his hairs on end. Telling you to protect him from the storm.

Of course you always comfort your silly kitty, pet his hair and tell him you’re there for him. Will reward you for looking after him for killing pests around your house.

Will get petty if you don’t comfort him over silly things though, his nail got caught on something, he’s crying to you whining about how he needs his human to comfort him. When you don’t he gets all stroppy, pushing stuff off your counters.

He’s just your little scardy cat that needs to be adorned with your affection 24/7.

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Amajiki Tamaki

A/n: so sorry this took so long! I had a good thing going but my power went out and it got erased </3

I do think this one's better though. Technically this is the third legitimate try <33

Edit: I'm trying out a new format for my info.. is it better or worse O.o

General info:

Wc: 1,176 words | angst to fluff/comfort | Character/s: Tamaki Amajiki

Warnings!: loneliness, snapping, flinching, a little bit of crying. Please let me know if I miss any! <3

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

The night was cold as you sleepily flipped through your journal, not wanting to write but knowing you should. The entries from the last three months have been short and filled with a dull ache of lonliness. They lacked the usual length and warmth you poured into the pages, ranting on about how sweet your timid Tamaki is and how much you adore him and his ever lasting warmth.

The rambling would go on and on, but now you wrote a paragraph or two about how your life has been 'fine' and that Tamaki has been super busy- if you wrote at all.

There was one or two that held multiple paragraphs of your frustration and not knowing who to blame- knowing that it wasn't Tamaki's fault that there weren't enough heroes to protect the innocent of your large city.

Tamaki was doing his best to protect the defenseless, and you admired that- but the dull ache that sat in the pit of your stomache couldn't go ignored much longer.

Sighing, you closed your journal, standing up from your desk to head to the living room, deciding to talk to Tamaki tonight.

~~

Four hours later Tamaki walked through the front door, tall form drained from exhaustion as he made his way inside, already stripping off his hero gear.

"Tama?" You call, poking your head out from the living room to sadly smile at your Tamaki.

"Oh. Hey y/n." Tamaki yawned, dropping both his cape and mask onto the floor as he dragged his feet towards your room, tossing his belt onto the kitchen table before moving onto taking off his gear further.

"Wait, Tamaki!" You call, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as Tamaki paused, looking back at you.

"Yes bunny?"

"Ummm.. can we talk?" You ask, smiling at the nickname Tamaki gave you the first week into your marriage- though he later admitted that he thought of it when you two were simply friends but was too shy up until that point-.

"Baby, I'm really tired.. is it important?"

"Yes.. it'll only take five to ten mintues."

"Okay baby, where do you want to talk?" Tamaki yawned.

"How about the living room? I can give you a shoulder massage while we talk if you like." You smile, causing Tamaki's eyes to shine as he smiled down at you.

"I'd like that."

~

After you were both situated you started by squirting some lotion on your hands before spreading it onto Tamaki's left shoulder, immediately noticing his many knots.

"Okay bunny, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh.. so I know that you're working really hard and are really tired.. and I also know that we haven't had us time in a while.. so I was wondering if you could take a day or two off? Not much, just a day or two would be fine."

Tamaki was silent as you bit your lip in anticipation, hoping you didn't upset him somehow.

"Y/n.. are you serious?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you know how many people might be dying right now? I can't just laze about spending time with you because you're feeling lonely. Why don't you go hang out with some friends?"

"T-that's not the same.."

"How so?"

"I want to spend time with you Tamaki. You know, my husband?" You scoff, starting to get annoyed.

"And I want to spend time saving people y/n, why don't you stop being sensitve and start thinking about other people?"

"But I've been holding my feelings back for months! Please! I'm just asking for a day- even a few hours is fine!"

"Y/n. No. Now if you're done I'd like to get to bed."

Jerking his shoulder away from your touch, Tamaki started standing up.

"But wait Tama-"

"No. I'm disappointed in your selfishness y/n."

"Wai-"

"Stop."

"Pl-"

"I said stop!" Tamaki hissed, turning around to face you within a second.

At the sudden movement and change of tone you flinched back, tears gathering in your eyes as you stared up at Tamaki, eyes wide.

As Tamaki glared down at you he froze as you flinched, heart immediately breaking as he saw the tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Y-y-y/n I-"

"I-it's okay Tamaki.. you don't need to say anything. I get it. I-I'll just go to bed now."

"B-but y-y/n.." Tamaki whimpered, guilt consuming him as he watched you walk away.

"Y-y/n.. I'm sorry.."

~

You quickly got in bed after hurrying up the stairs, wiping at your eyes as you clung to your pillow, staying as far away from Tamaki's side as possible.

~~

You awoke the next morning to the sun shining in your eyes.

Wincing, you turned around to feel for Tamaki, forgetting all about last night and the dreadful few months.

After feeling how cold Tamaki's side of the bed you sighed, memories coming to you in flashes as you stared at his side of the bed.

Wiping away the stray tears, you got out to get ready for a day worse than the one yesterday.

After getting dressed you made your way down stairs, deciding to get on top of your piling to-do list to help get your mind off of Tamaki.

Stepping into the kitchen, you stepped back at the sight of a lavish breakfast filled with all of your favorites spread across the newly cleaned kitchen table.

"T-Tamaki.." you whimper, looking at your beloved with tearful eyes as he guilty studied you with his indigo orbs.

"Y-y/n I-"

You interrupted Tamaki as you rushed into his arms, clutching the back of his shirt, desperate for comfort from the man you've grown to adore.

"Y/n I- I'm so so sorry." Tamaki mumbled, burying his face into your hair to mask the tears falling from his eyes.

"I forgive you Tamaki, I know you were just over worked and didn't mean to take it out on me."

"I promise you- I really didn't me an to, a-and I feel terrible about it."

"Shhh it's okay baby.. I already forgave you. We just need to reflect on what we did wrong tonight and make sure not to do it in the future. Next time, I'll wait until you're less exhausted, and you'll make sure to remind me that you're too tired, mkay?"

"O-okay.."

"Now baby.. why are you home? Don't you have work?"

"Nope, I took the next two weeks and a half off. I know that it won't make up for the months of loneliness, but I'll try to be better, I"ll take less shifts and make sure to only leave for emergencies when I'm off the clock.

"Alright, that's a good start."

"I may need today and possibly tomorrow to sleep.. but I cleaned the entire house -besides our room- and looked at your to- do list and did a few of the bigger things on there.. oh and I made us breakfast.."

"Tamaki. I love you. So, so much."

"I love you too bunny. I'm really rea-"

"Shh, I already said I forgive you. Now, let's eat!"

~~~

Series' masterlist | Tamaki's masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and support my work, therefore they help me immensely but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way minus reblogging.

[solxamber]

Moments in Bloom || Cater Diamond

Cater’s life is a perfect illusion, curated with smiles and snapshots. But beneath the surface, he wonders—what would it be like to be truly seen? To finally stop pretending and let himself bloom?

I'm so normal about him your honor

Cater lives his life on a tightrope, always balancing between what is real and what he presents to the world. Every step is deliberate, every smile rehearsed, as if his entire existence is made of glass, fragile and beautiful but ready to shatter at the slightest misstep. He curates his life with shaky hands, paints his face with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes, because that’s all anyone can bear to see. That’s all he’s willing to offer.

He’s fun, isn’t he? Always so put together, always the life of the party, the perfect friend, the perfect distraction. His followers love it—love him. They see what he wants them to see: Cay, the guy who’s always in bloom, always flourishing under the gaze of their likes and comments.

But behind the screen, Cater feels something hollow inside, like the petals of a flower slowly drying out. His life isn’t a story; it’s a series of carefully staged snapshots, strung together like beads on a fragile string. Each moment a performance, each laugh, each joke, another way to hold the world at arm's length. Because every time he shows them this perfect version of himself, he loses a piece of who he really is.

But isn’t that for the best? Isn’t it safer this way? He convinces himself that it is. As long as no one gets too close, as long as the connection is shallow, fleeting, he won’t have to risk the pain of being truly seen. It’s easier to keep everyone at a distance, to be the version of himself they expect rather than the one he’s afraid to reveal.

He’ll be fine, he tells himself. Fine as long as he keeps moving, keeps projecting that image of effortless joy. Fine as long as people still remember him as the happy, fun guy they once knew. Fine, as long as the bonds remain skin deep, because anything deeper might make them see the cracks underneath, and he can’t allow that. He can’t risk that vulnerability, can’t let them see how tired he really is, how much it aches to be so endlessly on display.

But in the quiet hours, when the day has faded and no one is looking, Cater wonders. Wonders what it would feel like to stop running, to let the mask slip just for a moment. What would happen if he allowed himself to be still? If he let the world see the person behind the perfect smiles and filtered photos—the person who is scared, and tired, and aching for something real.

What would happen if he let someone in? Let someone see him as more than just Cay, the fun guy with the perfect highlight reel? What would happen if, just once, he let himself stay instead of always running, always hiding behind the mask of who he thinks he should be?

But as the sun rises, so too do the expectations. The world doesn’t wait, and neither does the persona he’s built. The thoughts are shut away, buried beneath layers of artifice. The mask slips back into place, the smile practiced, the laughter automatic. He steps back into his role, performing for an audience that doesn’t know they’re watching a show. Not as Cater, the person who longs for something deeper, but as Cay—the guy they love to see but never truly know.

And with every perfect moment he crafts, every blooming smile he offers to the world, he can feel it—something inside him wilting, withering just a little more. For each moment he presents in full bloom, a piece of him fades in the shadows.

Cay doesn’t get jealous. He’s the perfect friend—the one who listens to your secrets, the one who’s always there when you need a laugh, a distraction, a quick fix for a bad day. He’s the friend who never asks for anything in return, never shares his own troubles, never shows anything less than his carefree, easygoing self. That’s what everyone loves about him, after all. He’s reliable, predictable, fun. And Cay never falters.

But Cater? Cater watches in silence, from the shadows of his own making, as you run after Grim one day, laughing with ease. There’s a lightness to your steps that draws others to you—effortless and warm. You’re yourself, unguarded, open in a way he can never be. And they love you for it. They flock to your side without hesitation, helping you, supporting you, without a second thought. There’s no mask for you, no hidden layers to peel away. You’re just you, and that’s enough.

Cay doesn’t get jealous. He doesn’t need to. But Cater—Cater feels it like a thorn caught in his chest, sharp and painful, though he’s too used to it by now to let it show. He’s not supposed to feel this way. He’s supposed to be happy for you, happy for everyone who has what he can’t bring himself to reach for. They’re real, connected in a way that he’s never dared to be.

And yet, the more he watches, the more that familiar ache spreads, creeping through the carefully maintained cracks in his façade. Because while Cay is the life of the party, the friend everyone can count on, Cater is alone. He always has been, hasn’t he? No matter how many people surround him, no matter how many followers he gathers, there’s always that quiet, gnawing sense of isolation. The knowledge that none of it is real. That no one sees him, only the version of himself he’s crafted for them to love.

You’re beloved because you’re real. You don’t need a mask to keep people close. You don’t need to curate your every word and action to make sure they stay. Cater knows this. He sees it in the way they gather around you, drawn to your light, your openness. And something inside him tightens, twists with envy. Why can’t it be that easy for him?

But Cay doesn’t get jealous. He laughs it off, slips another perfect smile into place, and hides the bitterness under layers of charm and wit. He’s fine—he always is. After all, it’s easier to be Cay, the version everyone loves, than to be Cater, the one who aches for something deeper, something true.

But the truth is harder to swallow when he sees you, so effortlessly connected, so unburdened by the things that weigh him down. The truth is that, no matter how close he tries to get, no matter how many smiles he offers, there’s always a wall between him and the rest of the world—a wall he’s built to protect himself, but one that now only isolates him further.

And so, as he watches from a distance, still wearing that easygoing smile, Cater feels the weight of it all settle over him once again. The jealousy he won’t admit to, the isolation he refuses to acknowledge—it’s all there, just beneath the surface, gnawing at him with every passing moment.

Cay doesn’t get jealous. Cay is fine. But Cater—Cater feels the sting of loneliness, the hollow ache of being surrounded by people who will never know him.

And with every perfect interaction, with every laugh that doesn’t quite reach his heart, he withers a little more.

Cay always goes with the flow. That’s what everyone expects, isn’t it? He’s the easygoing one, the guy who never lets anything stick to him for long. So when Riddle overblots, when the chaos finally subsides, Cay does what he’s always done—he keeps smiling.

But Cater—Cater stands off to the side, watching you. You, who have no magic, no power in this world, yet you’re the one who fought to bring Riddle back. You’re the one who put yourself on the line, who stood tall in the face of that overwhelming darkness. And now, as things begin to settle, you move through the aftermath, checking on everyone, making sure each of them is okay.

You help Trey with a quiet determination, staying by his side as he steadies Riddle. You don’t hesitate, don’t shy away from the pieces that have shattered, working carefully to put them back together. The tenderness in your expression is impossible to miss—worry, love, and care, all etched into the lines of your face as you move from one friend to another.

You check on Ace and Deuce, both of them shaken but alive, and even Grim, who clings to your leg with a mix of fear and relief. And each time you speak to them, there’s warmth in your voice, a kind of softness that Cater can’t look away from. He wonders, just for a moment, what it would be like to be the one on the receiving end of that tenderness. To have someone look at him with that kind of care, to be held in the gentle space you create for your friends.

But when you turn to him, concern in your eyes as you ask if he’s okay, the mask snaps back into place. Of course, Cay’s fine! He’s always fine, always just going with the flow. So he laughs, shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “Me? Psh, I’m good, don’t worry about me! You know how it is, can’t let a little chaos throw me off, right?”

You smile, maybe a little relieved, and move on to Riddle, who’s still fragile in Trey’s arms. And that’s when Cater sees it again—the way you embrace Riddle’s flaws, his anger, his vulnerability. You don’t flinch from him, don’t look at him like he’s something broken or terrifying. You just accept him, flaws and all, as if none of it changes the way you see him.

Cay’s happy for Riddle, he really is. Riddle’s been through hell and back, and he deserves this—deserves to have someone who looks at him like he’s still whole, still worthy of love even after everything. But Cater—Cater feels something twist deep in his chest, something that aches in a way he can’t name.

He smothers it as quickly as it rises, burying it under another easy grin, another casual wave of his hand. Because that’s who he is, isn’t it? The guy who never lets anything stick, who’s always okay, even when he isn’t. The ache lingers, though, a quiet, persistent thing he’s not sure how to shake.

So he watches from a distance, as you hold Riddle’s hand, as you offer him that same warmth, that same tenderness. And Cay smiles, because that’s what he does. But deep down, Cater wonders how much more of himself he can bury before there’s nothing left.

And he withers just a little bit more.

The first tear falls so quietly, he barely notices it. But once it slips down his cheek, it opens a flood he’s been holding back for longer than he can remember. Each tear carries with it a piece of the grief he’s buried deep inside—the ache of always being the one who listens, but never the one who’s heard. Always giving, always curating, but never allowing himself the chance to receive.

The rain outside mirrors Cater’s mood, soft but relentless, tapping against the window like a reminder he can’t ignore. He sits in the dark, his room heavy with the weight of silence, and for once, there’s no escape. No perfect smile to wear, no snappy caption to post. Today, there’s just him, and he doesn’t have the strength to pretend.

It’s a grief that has lived with him for years, threaded through every laugh, every joke, every perfectly timed post. His loneliness hides behind filters and masks, behind “likes” and fleeting connections, and he’s so good at maintaining the facade that even he’s begun to believe it. But on days like this, when the world is quiet and there’s no one to distract him, the truth hits him harder than he can bear.

No one really knows me.

His chest tightens, his hands trembling as the tears come faster now, each one pulling at the fragile seams he’s spent so long stitching together. And the more he cries, the more it unravels, piece by piece. He feels like he's breaking, like the loneliness inside him is a gaping void swallowing him whole.

But even as he falls apart, he doesn’t realize his door is unlocked.

When you burst in, your voice bright and calling for Ace, you don’t expect to see him like this. Not the Cay you know, always so upbeat and easygoing. This is Cater—raw, vulnerable, and breaking. The sight of him catches you off guard, but not for long. The moment you see the tears on his face, the panic settling in his eyes, you move. You don’t hesitate.

You shut the door softly and cross the room in seconds, kneeling in front of him, your presence both gentle and grounding. “Cater,” you say quietly, your voice calm but full of concern. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He’s spiraling, unable to catch his breath, unable to stop the sobs from coming. The panic digs deeper, pulling him under as his thoughts blur into static, his chest heaving with the weight of it all. He can barely hear you, barely feel you take his shaking hand in yours, but somehow your voice breaks through the noise.

“Can you breathe with me?” you ask, soft but steady. “Just follow my breathing. In for four, out for four.”

You count the breaths for him, slow and patient, and he tries to match you, though the tightness in his chest won’t let go. He feels like he’s failing even at this, but you don’t let go. You keep holding his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, and eventually, little by little, his breaths start to steady.

“You’re doing great,” you whisper, and the gentleness of your words hits him harder than anything else. No one’s ever said that to him—not when he’s not performing, not when he’s not wearing a smile.

You ask if you can hold him, and when he nods, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. You’re so careful with him, like he’s something delicate, something worth protecting. He shakes against you, the sobs still slipping out between ragged breaths, but you hold him, rocking him gently as you guide him through it.

“In... two, three, four. Out... two, three, four. Just like that, Cater.”

His hands cling to you like a lifeline, and though he keeps his head down, overwhelmed with shame, you never flinch. He’s sure you’ll never see him the same again. You’ve seen the cracks now, the pieces of him that he never lets anyone see. The messy, fragile parts he hides so well. He’s shattered the illusion, and with it, whatever fleeting connection you might have had.

But when he finally risks a glance at you, expecting pity or disappointment, he finds neither. Instead, you look at him with a softness he doesn’t understand. Like he’s not broken, not ruined—just human. Like he’s worthy of care, even when he’s not perfect.

And in that moment, something shifts.

You don’t ask him for an explanation. You don’t push him for answers or try to fix him. You just sit with him, your hand still gently wiping away his tears as they fall. And somehow, in the quiet of your presence, the suffocating weight of his loneliness eases, if only a little.

For the first time in a long time, Cater feels like he can breathe without the mask.

And for the first time in even longer, he doesn’t feel like he’s withering.

Contrary to what Cater expected, nothing really changes after that rainy day. You haven’t brought it up, haven’t said a word about the way he fell apart in front of you. Part of him is relieved. Part of him doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or if it makes everything worse.

But you look at him differently now. It’s subtle, but he notices. Every now and then, your gaze lingers on him just a little longer, soft and searching, like you’re trying to make sure he’s okay. And every time you do, something deep inside him aches.

He doesn’t know what to make of it. You’ve seen the cracks in his mask, the hidden fractures, and yet… you don’t push. You don’t ask. And he tells himself it’s better this way. That as long as no one acknowledges it, he can keep pretending. Keep being the Cay that everyone knows.

So he keeps curating his life like always. Today, it’s lunch with you and the others, and of course, the food he orders has to be cute. It’s picture-perfect, all pastel colors and sugary smiles—just right for Magicam. He posts the shot, hashtags ready, the likes rolling in before the plate even cools.

But when it’s time to eat, the sight of it turns his stomach. The overly sweet pastries, the syrupy frosting—it makes him feel nauseous, like he’s being suffocated by all the sugar coating everything in his life. His hands falter as he picks up his fork, memories flooding in: his sisters dressing him up like their doll, molding him into something neat and presentable, something perfect for the world to see.

He tries to swallow it all down—the memories, the sweets, the feeling of being trapped in his own skin.

But then you do something that startles him. Without a word, you casually reach over and swap your plate with his, sliding your spicy dish in front of him and taking his pastel confection with a casual ease. It’s like you can see through him, like you’ve noticed the way his hands shake, the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

You don’t make a big deal out of it, though. You just wink at him, taking a bite of his dessert with a playful expression. “Too cute for me,” you joke, pulling a little face at the overwhelming sweetness.

And as he stares down at the savory food you’ve given him, something tight in his chest loosens. He picks up his fork and takes a bite, the heat of the spices grounding him in a way the sweets never could. It’s a quiet exchange, but it means more to him than he can express.

Because for the first time in a long while, someone has seen him—not Cay, not the mask, but Cater. And you’ve done something about it without making it a spectacle, without asking for anything in return.

As the warmth of the meal spreads through him, he feels something shift. It’s small, barely there, but undeniable.

It’s like, in that simple moment, he’s begun to bloom—just a little. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels real. And in the sweetness of that realization, he finds a quiet kind of peace.

Graduation day comes faster than Cater expected, and with it, the weight of knowing this is it. The final chapter. He’s never going to feel your tenderness again, never going to catch you smiling at him like you can read his thoughts. That easy connection, the way you always seemed to see right through his mask without making him feel exposed—it’s slipping away, like everything else.

But Cater’s a pro at pretending. A master of suppression. So he grins wide for the graduation photos, flashing peace signs, pulling you close for one more selfie. It’s all perfect for Magicam, every shot curated to show him as the fun, carefree guy everyone expects. He even playfully nudges you away afterward, urging you to say goodbye to the other third years too, acting like he’s not already starting to miss you.

Trey watches him with quiet concern, his gaze lingering just a second too long. Cater feels it, that heavy, unspoken question: Are you really okay? But he just laughs it off, a casual wave of his hand. “I’m fine! Just gonna miss NRC, y’know? All the good memories!” Another smile, another mask in place.

The truth is, Trey knows him better than anyone, and that’s why it hurts a little more to keep lying.

When the final moment comes, when he’s finally about to leave, you’re there, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens for a split second before letting himself sink into it. You promise to see him soon, a sweet reassurance that he’s sure is just a kind lie. But still—his heart begs him to believe it. For just a moment, he lets himself hope, lets himself hold onto the warmth of your arms, the sound of your voice telling him that this isn’t goodbye for good.

Even if it’s a lie, it’s the most beautiful one he’s ever heard.

And when you pull away, his grin falters, just for a second, before it’s back in full force. “Yeah, definitely!” he says, his voice brighter than he feels inside. “We’ll hang out soon, don’t worry about it!” The words spill out easily, like they always do, practiced and polished. But as he walks away, something in his chest tightens, like a rope being pulled taut, on the verge of snapping.

It’s not until he’s out of sight, out of your reach, that he lets the mask slip—just a little. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before pushing the feelings back down, where they always belong.

Because Cater’s always been good at pretending. Even when his heart half-believes the lies he tells himself.

Vacation is a strange thing for Cater, stretching out endlessly in front of him. For once, he doesn’t have NRC to fall back on, no unbirthday parties to attend, no quick selfies with friends to fill the quiet. It’s just him, alone, with too many thoughts and too little to distract himself from them. His mind circles back again and again to the same question—what if?

What if he had told you how he felt? What if he had let the real Cater step out from behind Cay’s polished, perfect mask? What if he hadn’t hidden every yearning look, every bittersweet ache that lingered long after you left? The loneliness in his chest swells like a storm cloud, heavy with everything unsaid.

The knock on his door is a small mercy, a distraction from the relentless pull of his own thoughts. He expects it to be something from his sisters, something to remind him of the life he’s left behind. But when he opens the door, the breath catches in his throat.

It’s you.

Standing there, eyes bright and smile wide, as if you belong right there on his doorstep. Like you’ve come just for him. The sight of you—so real, so here—makes his heart stumble. It’s too much. It’s everything he’s wanted and everything he’s convinced himself he can’t have.

“Hey,” you say, casual and warm, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to show up on his doorstep.

He blinks, the words catching in his throat, his voice nothing but a shaky whisper. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course.” Your smile softens as if it’s meant only for him. “I missed you.”

Missed me? The words hit him like a wave, and for a second, all he can do is stand there, frozen. He feels the tears prick at the corners of his eyes before he can stop them. A flood of emotions he’s worked so hard to suppress rises up, overwhelming him. But old habits die hard, and he forces a grin, trying to patch together the mask he’s worn for so long. "You missed me, huh? Guess I’m just that unforgettable."

But the laugh he gives is thin, shaky, and it doesn’t hide the way his voice cracks on the words. You see through it. You’ve always seen through it.

You step closer, and he feels the world tilt as your hand reaches for him. So gentle, so careful, as if you know exactly how fragile he is beneath all the layers of defense. “Can I…?”

He nods before he can think, breath catching as your lips meet his, soft and warm, like you’ve pulled the sun from behind the clouds. His heart stutters, a deep ache blooming into something more—something he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in years. It's not just the kiss, though that alone feels like it’s mending him, piece by piece. It’s you—the way you see him, truly see him, not as the polished, ever-smiling Cay but as the Cater who’s been hiding beneath all this time.

And when you pull back, looking at him with that familiar tenderness, he feels his heart tremble. He’s spent so long pretending, so long burying every flicker of hope under layers of charm and artifice. But now, under your gaze, the weight of those old defenses falls away. You don’t question him, you don’t push him for answers he’s not ready to give—you just hold him steady with your presence, your warmth, your quiet understanding.

“I missed you too,” he breathes, voice raw, as if the truth has finally broken free. He hadn’t known how much he needed this—needed you—until this moment.

For the first time in a long time, Cater feels something stir deep inside him. Something soft and alive. Something he thought had withered long ago. And as you hold his hand, grounding him in this moment, he lets it bloom fully—no more masks, no more pretending. Just him, just you, and a heart that’s finally learning how to be whole again.

Masterlist

[clare-875]

Silent Jealousy (Levi x Reader)

_____ Paring: Levi x Female Reader Summary: One embrace has Levi questioning his everything. Warnings: Fluff, a bit of Angst, Levi not knowing how to emote. [AOT Masterlist] _____

When Levi saw you laughing so carefree with a young, male Scout who stood by your side, he didn't understand at first the emotion that churned restlessly within him. Suddenly it has him questioning if you ever laughed as much at the crude jokes he would share. Then that thought would be diminished just as quickly as it came. He was humanity's strongest soldier; who cares if he's unfunny? But he fails to realise, he suddenly cares because it's you. Were you truly happy with someone like him? He sees you grin widely, and then he sees your eyes shine. They are filled with joy, utter contentment... almost adoration. He fights the growing turmoil within him at the sight, the gnawing insecurity. Suddenly it has him questioning every look you sent his way. Did you ever look at him like that? Levi should know he was being stupid, that you sent him quiet gazes filled with utter love that had him never questioning. Yet he found himself forgetting every instance, every utterance of your devotion.

Levi's grip tightens on the fork in his grasp, and suddenly his appetite diminishes. Why were you not with him? He hears your voice, usually so heavenly to his ears mingle with that of the man, and Levi feels sick to his stomach. He scarcely notices Hange's concerned stare on him as they sit opposite, looking between his dangerous gaze, and following it to you. "Levi?" Their voice is muffled in his head but it causes blunt irritation to run through him as he looks up briefly. "What?" His words are sharp, voice lost in his sudden agitation as Hange looks to him, gaze wide at his abrupt change in attitude. He had been just fine moments ago; moments before you left. "Nothing but-" Levi doesn't hear any more of Hange's words however as movement catches the corner of his eyes. He turns slowly but feels his heart constrict within him, at the sight of you.

You had pulled the man into a tight embrace.

Levi feels himself move abruptly, so much so it catches the attention of other Scouts who look up shocked at his sudden movement; the ominous look in his eyes. Levi is rigid as he stands from his seat and drops his fork to the table, now withered from his grip. Hange looks to the utensil in shock and then looks at him tentatively, dumbfounded at the seeming rage that now seeps from him, but before they can say anything he is off. Levi turns away from the scene of you and him... him. If you wanted him, you could have him for all he cared. Levi's mind paces with blatant irritation and resentment as he remembers the sight of you, warm arms tight around the male scout and tries to forget the pain that reaches his heart. Tries to forget all the hurt that now burdens him, he trusted you and yet your mere embrace felt like a betrayal; he thought he was the only one you would touch in that way. Levi didn't care if he was irrational; you were all he knew and he despised that he wasn't the one you looked to. Jealousy. He tried to push that word away, but it was clear in his form, he was strangled within it.

You, on the other hand, look in surprise at the sudden scene and absence Levi caused and wonder just what had gotten him to react so drastically. You had merely told him you would go to congratulate your cousin, a new member of the Scouts. He had seemed absentminded when you left, barely acknowledging your words as he flicked through pages of paperwork by his food but he had seemed fine nonetheless. "What's wrong with him?" You turn to your cousin rolling your eyes as he grins at you suggestively. "Nothing's 'wrong' with him, he's probably just remembered some room he's gotta clean or something." Your cousin laughs at that, before patting you on the shoulder, "I still can't believe humanity's strongest is your boyfriend, didn't think anyone would take you to be honest but that's impressive." You smack him lightly at his teasing words before you hear a chorus of voices behind him, realising it is his friends calling him over. "Looks like you've gotta go anyway," you say as he grins before nodding. "It was nice seeing you though, be safe." He gives you a nod and a quick hug once again before he goes, his friends welcoming him back with shouts and yells.

You roll your eyes at the sight of rough comradery but smile. You couldn't believe it when you heard your cousin was going to join the Scouts. Honestly, it brought you anxiety and utter dread at the prospect of someone you were so close to, in proximity to so much danger; death. But you knew he had worked hard, and you knew he was just as devoted as you were. So, you were glad to see him well and hoped it would remain that way. You decide to turn back to Hange who looks at you as you approach. "Hey, where did Levi go?" You ask as Hange turns to the exit before they reply. "Beats me, kinda just up and left." You frown in confusion, at an utter loss as to what had happened as you sigh deeply. "He kept looking over at you though, wonder if that had anything to do with it." Hange grins at you as though they knew something you didn't but you shake your head, thinking it would be quicker to go find the man and ask him yourself. You quickly gather his paperwork and a plate of his untouched food and go to leave the dining hall. "I'll see you later Hange," you call out as they yell out in reply, you trying to find the traces of the man you so adored.

When you open the door to your shared chambers, it is deathly quiet, and you frown further at that as you enter, trying to find his form, and you do. Levi is silent as you put down his things on a table. His eyes are far away and his form is taut, it made you hesitant but you decided to approach him anyway. "Levi?" His face is shrouded with an emotion you have yet to see on him. His form was rigid and tense, one of anger and fierce debate. You are lost in the puzzlement of his state but Levi is lost in his hurt and so he acts on it. “Why are you here?” You expected anger but you hear disappointment in its stead, and somehow it’s worse. “What do you mean, why am I here? Why are you here? What happened?” Levi thinks he hears concern in your words but then instantly diminishes his show of foolishness, his mind returning to the man you looked and laughed and embraced so keenly. He couldn't help but feel like you had somehow let him down.

He tastes bitterness and feels it fill his form, he doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger. He would scarcely admit it, but you were everything to him, and now you had him questioning his everything; you. Because of him. One man, one embrace, causing the unravelling of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. Levi felt stupid and yet he couldn't let it go. “You should go back.” Levi’s voice is low and harsh but you are still lost in your confusion. “What?” Levi’s eyes look sharply to you then and you are surprised to see his swift anger and the hurt he tries to desperately hide from you. “That man, I see the way you look at him the way you touch him. Honestly [y/n], I didn't think you'd be one to-“ Levi cuts himself off in the rage that consumes him, his hands are tight but unbeknownst to him you had finally put the dots together. Surely he couldn't mean...

“Wait Levi, him? You don’t mean my cousin do you?”

Levi looks up so quick you are almost startled by the intensity of his blank stare. “Cousin?” You can’t help it then, the lost look on his face, the blatant confusion of the whole scenario, you fall into a fit of laughter. Levi looks at you irritated but feels the weight lift off his chest slightly at your words in quiet hope. He glowers as you finally collect yourself in a breathless laugh. “Yes Levi, I told you I was going to congratulate him, were you even listening?” Levi is frozen in place as he feels utter mortification fill him to the brim. Surely you can't be serious. He had been caught within the depths of emotion, you had seen what a mere embrace would reduce him to. You let out a teasing grin as you decide to approach him then, despite enjoying his rare show of vulnerability, you know it was an honest and rather unpleasant misunderstanding. Especially to Levi who finds it hard to trust so willingly in the first place; to admit himself to love. “You didn’t think I’d get rid of you that easily did you?”

Levi’s face flushes red at your words as he tries to turn away but you see the ends of his blush reach his ears. “Shut up damned brat,” he growls but you laugh at his words and turn him back to you. He tries to avoid your prying hands but his limbs go slack as you push your head to his chest wrapping your warm arms around his torso. Levi reacts hesitantly but finally responds and feels the relief of you with him; only him. You stand for several moments as you relish the warmth of him, and the rare acceptance of such straight-forward affection. But, you just have to ruin the moment as you look up to him from within his embrace and grin. “I can’t believe the Levi Ackerman is jealous.” Nonetheless, Levi instantly released you of his form as he snatched up his paperwork and plate of food walking past you to the dining hall once more. You would follow him then, apologising half-heartedly but always treasuring the moment you saw Levi’s not-so-silent jealousy.

[h0rnyshakespeare]

nightmares

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

genre: reverse comfort

word count: 584

warnings: none!

It had been a long day at UA High. With finals coming up, it was needless to say that things were becoming more hectic. You rubbed your tired eyes as you stretched at your desk, thankful that the load of homework you had was finally over.

You glanced at your phone to check the time. It read 1 am. You sighed. Better late than never.

You walked over to your bed and immediately sank under its warm covers, drifting off as soon as your head hit the pillow… only to be woken up rudely by the sound of someone knocking at your door. Grumbling at whoever disturbed your much-needed sleep, you stumbled in the dark to your door. Your frustrations, however, all disappeared when you opened it to reveal your boyfriend. Katsuki’s blonde hair was messy and there were notable bags under his eyes. You frowned. This was out of character for him, as he always went to bed so early (something you’d constantly make fun of him for).

“Katsuki? What’re you doing here?”

“…Can I come in?”

You moved from the entrance, allowing him space to enter your room before shutting the door softly.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, softly.

He sat on your bed, exhaustion apparent on his face. “I’m fine. It’s just the damn nightmares again,” he said, looking away from you.

Your heart ached at his words. Ever since Bakugou had been kidnapped by the League of Villains, he’d have recurring nightmares about it. You hated that there was nothing you could do to stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, holding your arms out to him. He wordlessly fell into your embrace; you began stroking his hair.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked. He usually doesn’t, although that’s never stopped you from asking. Today’s the same, however, as he shook his head in response. “That’s okay,” you said softly, kissing his forehead. “Want me to get you some water?”

He shook his head again, his grip on you tightening.

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, continuing to stroke his hair and back gently.

You both lay in silence for a few minutes, before your boyfriend spoke up, surprising you. He usually never did.

“You must think I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

“What?”

“Not being able to sleep just because of a few nightmares over something that happened ages ago. Pathetic.”

You frowned at his words. “Katsuki.”

He looked up at you.

“I would never, ever think you’re pathetic for going through this. You went through something traumatic, and it wasn’t ages ago, it’s still very recent. And even if it wasn’t recent, these things take time to heal from. It’s totally understandable why you’re having nightmares, even though I really wish you didn’t because I feel so bad that you have to experience that moment over and over again. I wish I could stop it. But I can’t. So I’ll be here for you in all the ways you need me. I’m your partner, ‘Tsuki. I’d never judge you. You’re handling all of this really well, and I’m so, so proud of you. Okay?”

He stared at you in silence before clearing his throat and hiding his face in your neck, not wanting you to see that your words made him tear up (even though you could tell). “Thank you.”

You smiled and resumed drawing imaginary circles on his back. “Now go to sleep, you need rest. I’ll be here if you have another nightmare. I’m always here.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

heya hiya bbg!! since you are writing for bucky i might as well do 10 y/o me some justice <3

i weirdly remember this dream i had (most of my requests are my delusional ahh dreams oml😞) where reader basically calms him after a nightmare like asking him what happened, if he wants to talk abt it, humming/singing to him, trying to cheer him up, etc etc

v cute v fluffy <3

hopefully u can get to this soon! have a great week/end!

-🪐

angel my bbg hi!! love it love it love it!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it 💌

UNRESTED.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 647

warnings. reverse comfort bc I can’t stop myself from writing it, nightmares but no description. it’s just fluff and comfort

It was no secret that Bucky didn't sleep well, often tormented by memories, leaving him with minimal hours of uninterrupted rest. Most nights were the same, him restlessly tossing in bed, murmuring and jolting as though he's stuck in the past - reliving it all over again.

Tonight was no different. You were nudged awake by your boyfriend sleeping to the right of you, his twitching movements hustling the mattress and snatching the covers. You check the time on your phone and sit up slowly, adjusting beside Bucky. 

You extend a hand, hesitantly reaching for him. You place your palm over his shoulder, the sheen of his cold sweat permeating your skin. "James," you whisper, trying not to startle him. "James," you try again. 

He abruptly sits, lids flinging open, a deep, heavy inhale filling his lungs. "God," he murmurs, brushing a hand down his face. His breathing is ragged and strained, shoulders tensing under your touch.

You brush your hand down his back, stroking over him smoothly. "You're awake. It's okay," you coo, drawing circles over his scarred skin - trying to refocus his mind.

He sighs, dropping his head in his hands, his breathing beginning to even out. "Was the same one again," he mumbles, his voice soft and saddened against his palms.

Your touch remains warm, trailing over him lovingly. "It sounded like it," you whisper, your tone gentle. "I'm sorry, love."

You slip your free hand into his metal one, carefully pulling it away from his face - your thumb brushing over the vibranium. You bring him to your lips and press a kiss on the back of it. You continue to hold him like that, one hand grazing up and down the curve of his back, your other holding the metal on your lap - trying to bring him back as such. 

Bucky turns to look at you, his face knowing. The sight of your sweet features gently lit up in the moonlight, slowly putting his mind at ease.

You meet his downcast gaze, your eyes pooling with empathy. You give him a weak smile before resting the side of your head on his left shoulder, cheek skimming the scars. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask.

He copies your movement, resting his head over yours - the side of his face propped on your crown. "Not yet," he mutters in response, exhaling a steady breath. 

"That's okay," you whisper back, turning to place a kiss on his upper metal arm. "We don't have to right now."

There's a moment of comfortable silence - the only sounds of breathing and the heavy pitter-patter of rain against the window. You continue to hold Bucky, waiting for him to pull away. But he never does.

"Sorry for waking you again,"

"James," you comfort, sweetly cooing at him. "You never have to be sorry for that... I was already awake anyway," you lie - trying to make him feel better. 

You keep a grip on him as you lean back against the mattress, pulling him with you, which he adjusts immediately, cuddling into your side - his arm draping over your middle. You slip your arm under his head and wrap around it, almost like you were cocooning him. Protecting him. Just you cradling his head safely in your arms.

"Thank you," Bucky mutters, his words muffling against your skin as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

Your fingers graze up into the short hairs at the back of his head - nails soothingly scratching his scalp. "Of course," you murmur back, whispering into his forehead.

Both of you stay like that, listening to the night storm, cuddled and huddled under the covers - his hand slowly making its way up to your heart. He rests his palm over the organ, using the faint thumping to ease him back to sleep.

[mitsua]

Redamancy

Loving someone who loves you back.

🪼: so this was supposed to be an Izuku snapping at reader but I couldn't bring myself to write about this man being mad... I´m sorry not sorry but maybe in the future I could actually get that done. Maybe? Idk today I wanted to cry myself to sleep.

Warnings: rude people, mentions of self-depricating thoughts (but none explicitly written), low self-steem, crying

Genre: reverse comfort Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya × GN! Y/N Words' count: 1.26k

Izuku's known as a selfless man, a selfless hero—your selfless hero at that.

He's always looking out closely while on patrol to do not let the slightest suspicious thing get out of his sight and catch danger in any form that may present itself, day by day.

People recognize him, greet him, smile polightly, shout excitedly, ask for a photograph with him, a signature—yes, his status has really given him a grand popularity.

But just as much as he greets back, gives small chats, returns a bright smile, shouts back, takes photographs and gives off signatures, he also encounters rude people every once in a while.

He brushes it off, he really tries to when it does so happen.

His first thought being 'they might just have a bad day, everyone has it!', always empathazing and letting people's disrespect get lost in the wind.

Until that wind comes back in a hurricane when the bad day hits him instead.

He brushes it off, or so he thinks. But he knows and you know too—everything anyone's ever told him got into him one way or another.

Thus making him the person you're so proud of to call today your husband, yes, you admit Izuku has this great mindset of turning the imposible—even if it's with tiny steps—a little more possible with progress.

He has a contagious positivity, you know it and he knows it.

'Then why can't I be positive today too? They need reassurance,' he thinks as he just got on a mission out of the city on places were being too powerful or too weak were seen badly.

He's tried greeting, smiling, but has only received scoffs and some offensive comments towards heroes in general. A tiny percentage of the poblation going too far and talking about him in specific being the last drop to spill the glass.

He gets in his hotel room—after being ignored by the workers when he entered and gave a small 'goodnight' out of his habit of being polite—plops in the bed and moves his hands to rest on top of his eyes.

'Don't cry,' he pleads himself. 'They're way more debastated here, you must show a reassuring attitude to let them see heroes mean no harm.'

A tear falls, then a second one and a third one.

It's not until he's fully sobbing with all the harsh emotions he bottled up in the day or even when he was still in the city that he hears his phone had your shared favorite song as your contact's ringtone that he stops spiralling further. A videocall from you.

"Hi! I just wanted to call to tell you goodnight quickly, I know you must be tire-" a sob. You heard him sob once, then twice.

"Izuku?" You got worried, he still hadn't said anything and he got his camera turned to the ceiling that could barely be seen due to the lack of light in the room.

Thinking he might have had a rough day you come up with a quick plan to help him.

"Hey, I know you're usually the one talking but I'll kindly request to do so tonight," you ask and even though he didn't answer either way you spoke again, "alright, and-well, I know I said I'll talk but I'd like to do something else as well..."

For a moment there was complete silence, then bed sheets being shifted around and a couple of grunts coming from your side. It gave Izuku's mind the chance to start wondering towards self-depricating thoughts again, until he heard something close to a documental.

"Aaand with that final blow Pro-hero Deku achieves victory and citizens' safety once again! ...Watch him throw his fist in the air meaning peace has been brought to us again!" A male commenter's vivid voice declared. "Deku helped a grown adult cross the sidewalk, look at this cute pictures!" Then a female's. "Oh, I'd kill to get Deku to patrol in my city," a foreigner's voice mentioned exhasperatedly.

You were showing him a copilation of videos fans of his had made of all his greatest and little heroic actions. Each of them spoke so highly of him—discussed and analyzed his movements and in-the-moment decisions through and through—just as he once did with the heroes he admired. He now was one of them, people admire him.

He could see and feel people's positivity reaching out to him, to help him too. By now, his tears had stopped, only a few sniffles could be heard.

"And last but not least," you whispered to do not break the comforting low volume tonight's call has had, "So, what do you think about Deku?" a reporter's voice. Izuku perked up at this and you internally celebrated you could see more of his face now that he's grabbed his phone with both hands and brought them closer to watch the video you were reproducing in your laptop.

He recalled that voice and that question. "The kindest and brightest people I've ever met, really." You answered.

This interview had been made by fans all across the country once the news about Deku's fiancé were leaked out. You turned to admire Izuku who had been surrounded with more paparazzi. The camera caught it all.

He remembered hearing that voice only faintly behind him.

You've both had been returning from a date and (un)fortunately been caught by a fan of his. People crashing into each other to get a hold of you two. They managed to separate you from him to interrogate you individually as on their plans.

But once he started politely answering some of their questions, he couldn't hear anything else than his voice and cameras' clicking.

You never told him they had interviewed you too, how could he not seen or thought about that?

Izuku observed keenly through the whole thing. You only spoke praises and your eyes, oh your eyes, they kept solely on his form.

Sure, you apologized a couple of times for going out of topic or speaking too much—'just as I'd do,' he thought���but kept on doing it seemingly in an unconscious manner.

"Why'd you choose Deku?" their last question. "Izuku, he has taught me about many good things in life I can no longer count them with both hands, he's been the sweetest and most honest being I've known-also, a greatly empathetic and understanding person, and for that I admire him even more, but also know about some of his struggles and as my love grows stronger each day my heart begs to help him, I want to help him too."

Your eyes got glassy as you spoke, the people got silent, internally crying for such words from you and both of you being so lucky for being with each other. As some started cheering you both and cooing, you'd made it closer to him until you could catch him by surprise in the middle of his last question with a peck on his cheek.

Then the screen turned black.

Now you both were sniffling...

"I love you Izuku, I really hope I can show you and help you just as much as you've done for me." You expressed firmly, closing your laptop and smiling through some tears.

"Thank you, thank you so much-I-I really appreciate I do-don't know what to say-" "-don't worry, there's no need Izuku, I, I just hope my message has gotten through..."

"It did," now that he had the screen closer, it enlighted a bit more his face and you could see him smiling too. "I love you too."

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