NOOOOO NO DON'T MAKE ME CRY

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

sukunas fav concubine being bullied by the other concubines?? maybe they push her into the fountain 👀👀👀

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. being bullied because you’re sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. when sukuna finally notices the harassment you’re going through, he doesn’t hold back.

wc. 2.2k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort). heian era. bullying. one mention of d.ecapitation. vile language. reader gets called ‘brat’. beta reading? what’s that

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they couldn’t care less if you hear what they say.

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the ruthless sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you. you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you. it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you cannot blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine. in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him. you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces. the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurt a little. he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder. you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“what a brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure. he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into something else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“you’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

Sukugo baby: Kojiro

The most amazing human Ive ever met.

synopsis: sukuna comforts you contents: fluff

You would say you were pretty tough.

But now-

Their words pierced at your body, straight into your heart.

Words, they cut so damn deep.

And you hate that you were crying over some shithead that had no life, no future, but here you were.

"Hey."

A familiar gruff voice rang out through the room, bringing the familiar feeling of comfort.

But you didn't want him to see you like this.

"Come on brat, you have to eat."

"i'm not hungry."

"well thats shitty for you. come on, get your ass up, I don't want to deal with you starving."

"ryo, can you leave me alone for a little bit?"

Sukuna narrowed his eyes, his gaze darting to the way you absolutely buried yourself in blankets, to the way there was a half-empty ice-cream tub and how your voice seemed to shake.

He knew right away.

"Hey."

Sukuna closed the door with a gentle click as he rounded to where you were wrapped up in a burrito of a blanket.

"What's wrong?"

"nothing."

"you know how much i hate lies. spill it."

He didn't want to be gruff with you, but he didn't like to see you sad, see the tears that streamed down your pretty face.

So he'll try to help in whatever ways he can.

Mainly by pissing you off to the point you forget about how sad you were.

Or if he's feeling merciful, attempt to try his hand at comforting you.

When you didn't reply, Sukuna grumbled under his breath and snatched up a blanket, ignoring your muffled yelp of protest.

And tugged the blankets off of you.

"Knew it."

You glare up at him, angrily sniffing as he stares at you dead-on, before sitting down next to you with a heavy sigh.

"Listen. I don't know how to make you better, so if you need me, I'm here. or whatever."

Breathing out a shaky sob, you shook your head with a sniff as Sukuna awkwardly scooted over to you, with a 'why am I doing this' sort of look.

"I'm here."

He slowly wrapped an arm around your still form, attempting to smoosh the spark of triumph that flared up in his body as you leaned into him, the sobs dwindling down to the occasional hiccup.

And all the while, Sukuna had his arms wrapped around you, keeping you warm, making you feel safe, even comfy in his presence.

and all the while, he whispered one sentence in your ear.

"i'm here."

tagging: @no-b10g-here @anxious-chick @aleluvsuu @funky-writes @oneofthesevensins @ladywinterfell13 @kazhyloveslaw @dazaisms @cyb3r-c44t @princessluvz @notherenortherejustaway @okaydokeyyo @iheartamora @haloswrld @churipu @lysaray @olivianyx @desihopelessromantic @kiri1330 @scryarchives

networks: @archive-network

af·fec·tion - Jaime Reyes x Haphephobe!Reader

Word Count: 1,650

Summary: Jaime can say a lot of things are weird about his life: one of his best friends is from an obsolete future, he has a snarky sentient piece of alien technology fused to his spine for life, and his partner always seems to flinch when he reaches out to touch them. At first, he thinks it is little more than them being jumpy and spaced out, until Khaji Da informs him that scans show genuine fear and anxiety.

Notes: Requested by @pink-lemonadae-san for a reader with haphephobia (fear of physical contact). I tried my best with this one, I’m not familiar with this fear. Also, more geared towards Young Justice, the Animated Series, but only as a reference.

…★…

Jaime can say a lot of things are weird about his life: one of his best friends is from an obsolete future, he has a snarky sentient piece of alien technology fused to his spine for life, and his partner always seems to flinch when he reaches out to touch them. 

He almost doesn’t notice it at first – the way that you seem to flinch when someone touches you, muscles tense. But you always seem quick enough to hide it with a smile that seems painfully faked to him and an assurance that you really are fine, just spaced out a bit. But after each time, you seem to curl in on yourself a bit tighter and put some more distance between yourself and anybody within the immediate vicinity. 

Jaime just thinks it has more to do with you spacing out than it does anything else, or maybe you’re just not as keen on touch. That much was fine, while a lot of the people he knew could be touch driven, that did not mean that everyone was. So, Jaime avoided touching you as much as he could, at least while you were friends. 

Things began to shift a bit more when he finally asked you out, overjoyed when you agreed to a date. And then even more elated when at the end of the night when you ask him for a second one. Not wanting to push his luck, he had not asked for a kiss, instead reaching out for a hug, which you had returned – but not before he swore that he saw a flicker of fear across your face. 

You never said anything about it though, and so he brushed it off. 

Things continued on this way for a while. 

Jaime does not just jump in to touching you, choosing instead to keep it more reserved, at least in public. Major PDA certainly doesn't seem like the sort of thing that you would be on board with, and he cannot fault you for that much. But the little touches do pick up more in private – taps on the shoulder, a quick hug, etc. Things seemingly so innocent that Jaime never pays their acts a second mind. 

The fact that you never initiate them seems to go over his head. After all, you show your affections for him in other ways – ones that have become obvious to him as the relationship had progressed, so it never comes down to a question of your feelings. 

And still he chalks up the jumping to you being lost within your own head. You wouldn’t be the first person he knows to be like that, and you never tell him otherwise. Any discomfort on your part is quickly hidden. 

Khaji Da has been, for the most part, instructed to leave it be – when the sentient tech had expressed a desire to scan you earlier on. Feeling too much like an invasion of privacy, while also throwing the agreement that only teammates could be scanned and only in battle. As far as people that Jaime trusted went, that was. So reluctantly Khaji Da had backed off the topic. After all, the scarab had been assured, if something was wrong, they had to trust that their partner would be upfront about it. 

That was likely why it surprises Jaime so much when Khaji Da pipes up one day, directly after he has hugged you. 

“Scans indicate that your partner is afraid, Jaime Reyes.” 

It was a weird enough sentence to hear, and Jaime was too confused to be annoyed that Khaji Da had scanned you. But afraid? There was nothing that should be causing that – the area was clear, it was a quiet and calm day, you had been fine for most of it, and you had yet to tell Jaime something was wrong. 

Scared couldn’t be right, could it? 

So, he ignores it, instead enjoying the rest of the day with you. He can talk to Khaji Da about it later. 

But later comes sooner than expected when the date is at an end and Jaime goes to hug you once again. 

It's that same voice echoing in his head: “Scans indicate a spike in your partner’s cortisol and adrenaline levels, indicating stress of fear, Jaime Reyes.” 

This has his attention. The only thing that had changed was him touching you, but still, you make no mention of it, pulling away and wishing him a goodnight before moving off in the direction of your home. 

Jaime calls after you, telling you to stay safe, but the gears in his head are turning to the point of smoke and it is Khaji Da who has to prompt him back into moving finally. 

“Khaji Da.” 

The scarab responds to that, a little whirr that tells Jaime the spotlight is his. 

“Are you sure that they were afraid both times I touched them?” 

“Affirmative, Jaime Reyes, your partner showed signs of distress.” 

It’s silent for a moment before Jaime asks his next question, quiet as he can, almost as though he is trying to avoid the answer. “Do you think they’re scared of me?” 

“Unlikely. Your partner actively seems relieved to be with you unless physical contact is initiated.” 

“But if they’re scared of touching me-” 

Before Jaime can finish his sentence Khaji Da has already interrupted him. “Your partner shows signs of distress at all physical contact, including that initiated by other individuals. This is not isolated to you.” 

“How long have you been scanning them?” This was too much information for the scarab to have from one day alone, and Jaime knew that much. 

In almost an embarrassed fashion, Khaji Da could be felt almost receding from the edges of Jaime’s mind before answering. “Two weeks.” 

“We talked about this, ese.” 

There’s an indignant clicking in protest before it seems to calm. “Your partner has not confided in you about their fear and steps had to be taken to find the cause. Best course of action: speak with them directly.” 

Jaime can’t argue with that. Whatever the cause of your fear was, you had certainly tried your best to hide it. And it had been a success. But Jaime had to speak with you about it eventually if things were going to get better – it admittedly hurt to know you were scared to touch him, and despite Khaji Da’s words, part of his concern was that you feared what he was capable of. 

A call or text message was not going to cut it, so Jaime would wait until Wednesday when he could speak with you in person again. No heads-up, he didn’t need to leave you a nervous wreck if he told you there was something the two of you needed to talk about. It wouldn’t be good to have that stewing under the surface for a few days. 

So, to say you seem a bit surprised when you show up Wednesday and Jaime has his hands in his pockets is an understatement. You expect a hug or for him to reach out to you – even if it terrifies you – but instead you’re met with no attempt. Paired with the serious look on his face, it begins to leave a feeling of unease prickling along your spine. 

“Did I do something?” 

That catches him off guard for a moment and Jaime is quick to assure you that no, you had not, but he does need to speak with you – and he needs honesty. 

It does nothing to settle the worry you feel, and already this conversation is headed in a direction you really do not like, already having a vague idea of what the issue is. 

Jaime struggles for a moment, trying to find the words that he needs without sounding as rude out loud as it seems in his head: “when people touch you do you...” He trails off, sighing before waving his arms outwards. Finally, he relents. “Khaji Da scanned you – I didn’t know about it!” he clarifies quickly, seeing your raised brow. “But scans show that when people touch you that you get.... scared?” 

His words seem to have an effect, and Jaime watches as your shoulders slump, your eyes focused anywhere other than on him. And then he sees it, a weak nod. So, he was correct. 

“Haphephobia - it’s the fear of being touched.” You have to stop for a moment, pulling in on yourself. “It isn’t just by strangers though, it’s by anyone, even family and friends.” 

Things are beginning to make sense for Jaime – little actions he had not stopped to consider before, things said by family or friends of yours that he had met. “You know you could have told any of us; we wouldn’t push you about it.” 

“I was told to just get over it – and a lot of our friends have a touchy love language. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be able to touch your own partner?” 

Jaime frowns at that, the tone he picks up on too depreciative for his liking. “There are other ways to show you care.” 

He doesn’t get a response from you, seeing you backed up into your own invisible corner, like you could make yourself vanish if you tried hard enough. “Hey,” he starts, soft as he can, “you show me you care in all kinds of ways – we can figure out how to handle this, and so can our friends. But we can’t start fixing things if we don’t know there’s an issue.” 

“I know, I guess I just didn’t want you guys to be disappointed.” 

“If we knew and ignored it that would be a different thing, but we can work with this,” Jaime assured. It was almost instinct to reach out, but he managed to catch himself in time, offering his partner a smile that seemed to finally have them relaxing. 

“I’d like that.” 

STRIKE A POSE | @LADYTH @CHERIIYAYA @SAELESTIA @SCRYARCHIVES

M!LIST

ABOUT !

in a world where curses collide with couture, vogue selects their new and upcoming stars to take part in their 24' summer collection.

this is a collab, co-hosted amongst four parties, @ladyth, @scryarchives, @cheriiyaya and @saelestia

FEATURING . . . ryomen. s, satoru g. higuruma. h, suguru. g, kento. n, fushiguro. t

rules

all characters written with smut, must be 18 +, the list of characters is continued on the masterlist page. other writers can join in the collab, and write for whoever they choose. there is no set deadline, and is all meant in good fun. to join, send an ask to one of the four collaborators ( @scryarchives, @ladyth, @cheriiyaya, @saelestia )

dark content is allowed, NO non con, dub con, and limits might change as this post continues. be respectful to all writers, and to be added to the taglist, send an ask. all genders, troupes, and au's allowed, if you're unsure, ask us !

if missed, tba later !

@scryarchives @saelestia @ladyth @cheriiyaya

Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)

i guess im doing this again lol! im honoured to be called one of your favourite followers!🫶🫶

i like that i’m determined at whatever i do. i sometimes find that when things get tough i always do my best to pull through and find a way to get things right or to do my best and cimplete whatever i have to do.

i like that i’m proud of what i’ve accomplished. even if it’s the little things, i always feel good after completeing whatever i’ve wanted to do, and i just get little boosts of happiness after!

i like how i take some things slowly. i like to do some things at my own pace, and that’s fine with me! sometimes i just like to enjoy the progress of getting there, seeing things starting from scratch, and growing to completion.

i like how i can multitask (at times). it helps me get through when i do one task which i dislike, and pair with a little hobby i like, just as a little motivation booster (i often tend to doodle or read fics when doing homework).

finally, i like that im persistent. sometimes, even though some have told me that im not good at my hobbies or interests, i still have them as my interests because i love when i’ve done, and i love to see people enjoying what i’ve created.

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

chaos has ensued in the city, and this villain has no intention of letting up. when all felt lost, a new hero showed up, much to jaime's surprise.

masterlist | previous , next !

– pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers, tw: mentions of blood

– author's note: created an absolutely new character for this chapter, and i discovered that i have no idea how to write fight scenes well. disclaimer: i don't speak Spanish, Nahuatl or Tamil so please do correct me if i am wrong! read more under the cut! :)

“Mierda, this looks messy,” Jaime winced at the sight below him where a figure stood, her hands spread out as people screamed around her.

“Khaji, what’s the situation like so far?”

“It appears the woman has psychosomatic illusions,” Jaime’s brows furrowed. “Psychosomatic illusions; the user can cast illusions powerful enough to–”

“Cause physical effects and injuries, I know what that means, Khaji. I took pre-law, I know what quantum physics is.”

The hero flew downwards, to where the villain stood, her laughter cackling in a twisted way. Her hair was frizzled and messy, a messily dyed lab coat over her shoulders as goggles covered her crazed eyes. She slammed a mace onto the roof of a now-abandoned car.

Snapping her fingers, the mace disappeared, sparkles remaining in its place.

“Come on! You are all so pathetic, don’t you all wanna play?” She hollered, waving her hands as a hatchet materialised in her hands, aiming it towards a poor civilian who saw his life flash before his eyes.

“Hey, that’s not playing nice,” Blue Beetle quipped, the handle of the hatchet in his hands, blade inches away from the middle of the civilian’s forehead.

Quickly, the hero tilted his head back at the civilian, who instantly ran out of range, seeking safety. The Blue Beetle raised his arm, aiming the weapon back at the villain, but before he could throw the hatchet, it disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

“And who are you supposed to be?” She sneered, her eyes narrowing with a huff. 

“The name’s Blue Beetle, but you look like… a mad scientist?”

“Oh, you’re so observant!” Her expression morphed into one of enjoyment, the woman hopping down from the roof of a car, watching as the hero formed light blasters from his wrists. 

Her eyes lit up in a warped sense of joy, a gasp of interest escaping her. Shaking her shoulders, she cracked her neck, eyes trained on the hero who had just entered the scene. 

“I can tell, you’re gonna be so fun to play with!” 

Without a second to spare, gauntlets formed around her wrists and the former scientist lunged in Blue Beetle’s direction. Swiftly, the light blasters disappeared, a shield forming around the hero’s figure instead. His forearms held up in self-defence out of instinct despite the glowing shield.

“Ohoho! You’re good!” She hissed, pressing harder against the armour. “I can’t wait to squash you!”

Blue Beetle grunted, pushing back against the villain, a yelp escaping her.

“No thanks, I’d like to be back for dinner in one piece,” He replied, the shield dissipating around him.

With a new sword forming in his hands, Blue Beetle aimed his sword in the woman’s direction, her gauntlets forming an ‘X’ shape and bringing the sword to a halt. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air before the woman replaced her gauntlets with a larger axe, moving out of the way just as the sword landed.

Moment after moment, blow after blow, the two figures were face-to-face once again before her weapon changed shape back into the gauntlets, her hands raised and colliding with the Beetle’s mask.

He let out a cry, punch after punch landing. He tried his best to fight back, but he could feel himself stumbling back. Memories flooded his mind as he was soon trapped in the corner, down on his rear and his forearms brought up to defend himself.

Jaime thanked whatever higher power that his armour was stronger than it looked, wincing at the injuries that would leave a bruise tomorrow.

“Say goodnight, Bug Boy!” The woman hissed, her arm raised higher than any of the previous punches before, zoning in directly onto his skull.

Jaime closed his eyes, waiting for the impact, waiting for the hard material to break open his armour, waiting to feel the metal crash into his skull.

But a shriek of pain filled the air, his eyes snapping open in alarm. He glanced upwards, finding the villain above him hissing in pain. A sharp, black blade glinted in the sunlight, lodged in the woman’s upper arm, the item set aflame.

Crimson blood trickled down the villain’s bicep, her gaze trained on her bleeding arm as anger filled her veins.

“Not on my watch!” Another voice cut in, both their heads snapping to the source.

A glare was settled on his saviour’s face, bushy ebony locks tied into a ponytail as a headpiece of gold and feathers were positioned into a fan-shape and tucked into her hair. Red face paint was splashed across her eyes, white paint lined in dots across her nose bridge. 

Baggy pants that were cream white covered her legs until mid-knee, and a similar-coloured strip of cloth underneath the gold belt allowed anyone to see the contrast of the vibrant feathers beneath the gold of the belt against the cloth. 

Donning red boots, the colour of her footwear complimented the gold arm cuffs that covered her upper arms, the gold of her outfit presenting itself in her circle-shaped necklace and belt sparkling in the sun. Her wrapped fists were clenched, and red flames enveloped her hands as she marched in their direction.

“Back off the guy, xinola,” She hissed, pulling a feather from her headpiece, and aiming it at the mad scientist above the beat-up hero.

As soon as the flame made contact with the feather, the material hardened up, turning shiny and sharp, just like obsidian.

“Another rival? My day just got made,” The woman hissed, pulling herself off of the Blue Beetle, gritting her teeth in partial anticipation.

“I thought this guy would be a pest, but you just might be on the same level of annoying as the one he’s on because now you’ve made me mad,” She grunts, pulling the shard out of her arm, yet the flame on her lab coat remained.

“What’s your name, peṇ?” The new woman narrowed her eyes, a smile gracing her lips. “I’d like to know the name of the first villain I’ve fought in this city.”

“Phantom,” She spat, her gauntlet-clad fists balling up. “The name’s Phantom. You must be a riot at parties.”

“How’d you know?” Phantom scoffed, eyes widening once she spotted a flame being slung her way.

“The dramatic entrance says wonders.”

“Well, Phantom,” The fire woman smiled, the fire in her hands growing larger. “I hope that you’re fire-proof.”

Before Phantom could make a comment, the flame that caught on her labcoat sparked into a blaze, grazing against her open wound and catching onto the open flesh.

She let out a howl of pain, her cheeks puffing up to blow out the flame, yet it persisted, the flame growing larger with the clench of the new hero’s fists. Phantom’s cries grew louder and louder, her uninjured arm now clutching the one that was set ablaze, her arm limp and rendered useless.

Phantom let out another hiss, eyeing the woman spitefully as the Blue Beetle’s eyes widened, pulling himself up from his behind.

The new woman glared, Phantom sneering as she formed an orb with her uninjured hand. Lifting it above her head, she slammed the item into the ground in front of her with a crash, smoke enveloping her figure.

The Blue Beetle’s saviour dashed towards the smoke, eyes wide in realisation. Yet, when the smoke cleared, she was gone without a trace, like a ghost.

“I really did not think that through… so much for that,” She muttered, turning to see the armour-clad hero behind her.

“You alright?” 

Jaime’s brows furrowed under his helmet, confusion running through his mind. Khaji-Da’s voice resonated through his head, but nothing registered.

“Who are you?” He mumbled, a smile growing on the woman’s features once more.

“The name’s Solar Flare, but Flare works just fine,” She raised her hand out to the hero, and an image flashed through Jaime’s mind, his new neighbour standing before him with her own hand raised as well.

Drea?

Unsure or not on whether Khaji had placed the thought in his mind, or whether he was seeing things, he slowly raised his own arm up. 

Hesitation filled his gut as he held back the urge to ask her questions, to interrogate her and find out the true reason for who she was, if she was even the same person as his new neighbour.

“Blue Beetle,” He slurred, their hands meeting. “I, uh, I had it, but thanks.”

“You sure had it alright,” She joked, her smile dropping temporarily. “Sorry, too soon?”

“No, no it’s fine. Where uh, where you from?”

“‘Scuse me?” She tilted her head with genuine confusion.

“You mentioned that it was your first time fighting a villain in this city earlier,” He mentioned, clearing his throat. “I mean, I just overheard from the fight with Phantom.”

“Oh yeah, I moved from Metropolis, but hey, that’s another story for another time.”

Her grin was so childish, so carefree and warm, Jaime almost envied her for her overall aura before realising that she did only appear towards the end of the battle. His head still reeled from the events earlier, brushing off Khaji-Da’s comments on improving his fighting form regardless of being the host of the scarab for the past few months.

Suddenly, a soft beeping rang out, Jaime perking up quickly in case the source of the noise was a threat. Quickly, Flare placed a hand on her ear, and the blue-clad hero realised that it was her earpiece emitting the noise.

Solar Flare then lowered her hand, smiling over at Jaime apologetically.

“I gotta go, but sorry about the whole fight intrusion thing, by the way,” She shrugged, running backwards. “I really do believe that you almost had it. Better luck next time! See ya around, Blue Beetle!”

With a jump, fire blazed out of her hands, and the new hero flew off, Jaime’s jaw slack with shock as he registered the slim possibility of the woman being his neighbour, the same neighbour that hung around his family constantly.

If his ego allowed it, he would’ve agreed with Khaji-Da that this woman truly could be a danger.

gif by @rob-pattinson

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