Comfort Fic - Blog Posts

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DAY 1 - Folklore, Fantasy, & Myth

“Then let’s make a deal,” Tobirama said “You participate in the games, and I don’t take your brother to the underworld until the day after they’re done.”

Madara was still staring at the god, mouth agape.

On Ao3

Tobirama was pissed. His older brother's whining coupled with Kawarama and Itama's tries at cheering him up were grating on his nerves, as well as the thought that for once he had trusted Hashirama to not put himself in trouble if left to his own devices and he had been wrong… 

But what he really couldn't stand was the memory of their father's face, impassible yet impossibly smug when, looking up to the mortal realm, he saw Hashirama's champion for the games.

The games. The idiotic games that saw the faithful to the God of Nature, his older brother, face against the faithful of the God of Death, his father. The humans seemed to believe that athletic pursuits were the best way to honor the conflict that saw the God of Nature dethrone his father and relegate him in the afterworld, thus gaining the title as God of the Gods. No god has ever divined why they thought that. In the Heavenly Planes every occurrence was sheer chaos and Tobirama, as the Messenger God Hiraishin, got the dubious honor of carrying the progressively more aggressive messages exchanged between his father and his brother, both banned from each other's realms.

But maybe that excruciatingly taxing ordeal had been yet another way devised by Fate for making him pay for being the one to trick his own father into his downfall. Because the one time he lets the two of them talk directly, his idiot older brother makes a bet: whoever wins the games gets a favor from the other. Which means their father could ask for anything, were he to win, Tobirama had pissedly pointed out when the idiot had told him. But Hashirama had laughed it off, because "Don't worry, my dear brother, my current champion is the strongest I've ever had, a man of honor who prays truly and yet doesn't rely on my benevolence. He’s hearty as an ox and strong as a lion. All in all, a great man!".

A great man, for sure, but one that is nowhere to be seen! thought Tobirama angrily while watching the substitute, a youngster who was hardly exceptional in any way, get ready for the games that were to start in the morning.

"I'm so sorry, little brothers!" cried Hashirama, now completely trapped in one of his gloomy moods. "I was so sure he'd come, he's always been so diligent about his religious duties..!"

"That's not the point!" Tobirama barked back, pulled from his observations of the lands below. "He's a human. Humans die with a whiff of wind, with nothing really! They're totally unreliable to us gods!"

"But he's not dead! Right?"

His older brother does him the favor of shutting it when Tobirama glares at him. But Hashirama does have a point, he thinks, turning his attention back on the humans. Tobirama had checked on the champion, Madara, in the days following the bet, and he was sure that the man's soul hadn't been carted to the underworld as he, the Psychopomp God Hiraishin, was the one who escorted the souls of the dead. And he had looked out for it, for Madara's soul, because he had totally been ready to cheat to make sure their father didn't win, because that would be a disaster. He could ask for anything and Hashirama was bound to do it. All they had fought for in their war against their father, all they'd lost; all Tobirama had sacrificed - his old domains, with the waters and the wars and the thunder that still remains in his namesake, and his honor, because since the war he has become Hiraishin, the Liar God. All in vain, lost in less than half an eon.

And all his work in preventing the man’s death had been for nothing too, apparently, because Hashirama's oh so dutiful, unbeatable champion had disappeared without dying. But not on Tobirama's watch. The games began at dawn and the sun had just set: that was plenty of time for him to try a little trick or twenty.

His mind made up, Tobirama left the view on the human realm and moved to leave.

"Whatever, I'll take care of this mess," he said as a goodbye. All of his brothers, even Hashirama, suddenly looked at him in alarm. Itama opened his mouth, face set as if to try and talk some sense into him, while Kawarama jumped up after him to physically catch him, but he evaded them both with ease. He was, after all, Hiraishin, the Fastest God.

In the seconds it took Tobirama to leave the Heavenly Planes he already had a thousand plans vorticating in his mind, but he settled on one just as fast.

It's night. Humans naturally sleep at night. Tobirama, as the Messenger God, was also the one who brought humans the dreams the God of Sleep paints for them. And he highly doubted that anyone would resent him if, for this once, he hijacked one to talk some sense in the traitorous champion.

So he waited, checking the innumerable dreams that passed through his hands until finally the right spark caught his attention. It was the middle of the night already, way later than the usual time mortals allowed themselves to sleep, so Tobirama didn’t hesitate to follow the dream to its intended recipient at top speed.

He barged in a bedroom, neither small nor particularly spacious, lighted by a single candle’s flame that made the shadows shift and jump and bathed the space in a soft warm light. Two men occupied the room: one was sleeping in the only bed, while the other was sitting on the floor with his head lying awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, face scowling in his repose as if offended by how sleep had taken him by surprise.

That one was Tobirama’s target. Scowling himself, Tobirama caught the spark of dream between his thumb and index finger and flicked it at the man’s face.

Immediately, Madara began waking, lifting his head as he tried and failed to keep his eyes open when faced with the silver light Tobirama knew mortals saw him emanate. When the errant champions finally got accustomed to the brightness, his eyes settled first on the wings on Tobirama’s sandals, floating on a level with his gaze, and then shot to the god’s face as the man blanched visibly. 

“No,” Madara whispered, wide eyes full of terror. Tobirama refrained from narrowing his eyes just barely, because while he’s not known to be particularly benevolent, Hiraishin isn’t known as malignant either, so that reaction was definitely out of proportion. He waited in severe silence as the champion glanced at the bed and then shifted in a bow, joining his hands together in prayer.

“Please, it’s too soon,” the man begged desperately. “Nature temple’s priest said he still has at least two days to live, and she’s praying for his health at this very moment. Please wait. It’s still too soon. Please…”

Now that he was paying attention, Tobirama easily noticed that the room was pervaded by the phantom of violence and illness, emanating from the other mortal. Tobirama took in his wounded side and mauled eyes under carefully applied bandages, as pieces of the puzzle began clicking together in his mind.

“I see,” he answered evenly. “He was attacked, right? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Madara growled, voice full of grief and barely concealed anger. “The attackers arrived at the market the day before yesterday. They didn’t speak to anyone and didn’t buy anything. Then they attacked my brother without cause and ran, and their corpses were found a couple hours later just outside the city. Nobody recognized them, least of all Izuna.”

“And how did they die?” Tobirama asked, already knowing the answer, but preferring to be throughout.

“The healers don’t know, but there were no wounds on their body.”

Tobirama ummed, tilting his head to the side. Honestly it wasn’t a surprise that Father would move to make sure that he won the bet - Tobirama had learned how to behave underhandedly somewhere after all. However, he would have expected something less straightforward than this, and also better executed, though he had manage to pass under all of their notice.

Tobirama reached for the sleeping man, intent on checking the injuries himself even if he wasn’t much of a medic, but Madara’s hand caught his wrist before he could touch him.

“Please, he’s dearly beloved by everyone, and so kind. Don’t take him yet,” the insolent mortal begged. His fear of angering a god was obvious in the way his face had lost all color, but the grip on Tobirama’s wrist remained strong and his black eyes held a desperate determination that showed that he would fight, even knowing that he’d lose, if it meant giving his brother a chance.

“If you don’t want both your brother and yourself to become pitiful mortal pulp you will unhand me right now,” Tobirama commanded. Madara held on for a few more moments before freeing the god to capture Izuna’s hand instead.

Tobirama studied this unusual mortal as he stared back with lucid but burning eyes. Stocky but not ungraceful, obviously strong, imposing, with a handsome mane of black hair and healthy skin. He was past the age of beauty that gods maintained for their whole existence, but more entertaining because of it, with laugh lines and a wrinkle between well-defined eyebrows. In one word, interesting.

“You’re right,” he finally said, “now is not his time, but soon it will be.”

Madara tried to answer, but Tobirama caught his chin with one hand, stunning him into silence before he could respond unwisely.

“You stepped down from champion for the games because you want to be at your brother’s side for his last hours, is that correct?” he asked.

Madara nodded, his head bobbing in Tobirama’s hand.

“Then let’s make a deal,” he continued. “You participate in the games, and I don’t take your brother to the underworld until the day after they’re done. If you lose, you gain him a couple more days to live, but if you win, I’ll heal him to the best of my ability and make sure that he survives his wounds.”

Madara was still staring at him, mouth agape. 

“Why are you offering me this?” he asked, voice a broken whisper.

“Don’t concern yourself with the motives of gods,” Tobirama answered, wiping away the first tear of relief falling from Madara’s beautiful eyes. “Do you accept my offer, then?”

“Yes,” he breathed, and this time when he gripped Tobirama’s wrists the god didn’t reprimand him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Madara repeated and then, with renewed fire in his eyes wet with tears, he kissed the palm of Tobirama’s hand still holding his face.

Well, far be it from me to turn down such a show of gratitude, Tobirama thought and crouched down for a kiss of his own.

“It’s not fair..!” Hashirama cried after the games, watching the mortal world from the Heavenly Planes. “I am the god of medicine!”

“Stop whining, brother!” Tobirama snapped half-heartedly, while Itama and Kawarama both snickered at their brother’s antics.

“No! You have so many domains already, but I only have two. Why did you have to steal it?”

“Technically life and nature count as different domains, so you actually have three,” Itama popped in, always the mediator. “Also, Tobirama only gained jurisdiction on recovering from wounds, so you still have power over healing from illness and such.”

“Yeah, brother, you only have to share!” Kawarama teased, and then cackled at Hashirama’s resulting whine.

“But why-”

“Well maybe this time you will finally learn,” Tobirama cut in, talking over his idiot older brother useless grumbles, “ and never, ever gamble again, brother.”

“But I-” Hashirama began to say before Tobirama cut him off again.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Tobirama roared. “Your luck is abysmal! When you bet, you lose, and even when you miraculously win a bet, you manage to lose something else still! Be glad that I only took part of your domain and learn your lesson.”

Hashirama sulked, pouting in a way unbecoming for gods, let alone their king.“...you also stole my champion,” he added with a defeated grumble.

Tobirama smiled smugly at that, remembering Madara’s gratitude on the night they met, as well at their own private celebration after the man had won the games and Tobirama had healed Izuna. Truly strong as a lion and hearty as an ox, Tobirama had to give his brother that.

“I didn’t steal him,” he said nonchalantly, “he came to me all on his own. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a mortal to meet.”

He left, surrounded by his brothers’ spluttering.

-

-

@madatobiweek2022 <3

i gathered the courage to look at it :D

its published now, i hope you lovlies enjoy!

it's called "is it so terrible to want to be loved?" and my account is WoodlandStars13

i’ve got a little fanfic i wrote last night while half-delusional and i’ll probably publish it tonight, i just need to work up the courage to look at the hot mess i made

Safe | Marc Spector

PAIRING: Marc Spector x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Marc has a nightmare. You're right by his side for the aftermath.

WORD COUNT: 1.12k

WARNINGS: Angst, panic, comfort, fluff, implications of Marc's past trauma and PTSD

A/N: Was in the middle of writing a Steven fic when this idea popped into my head and I had to get on it immediately. I'm like 90% sure this idea has already been used on here but I'm hoping my story isn't similar to anyone else's :(

It started with sporadic twisting and jolts from Marc's side of the bed. You were so deep in sleep that you silently dismissed it and chalked it up to Marc's discomfort with the heavy duvet.

But then faint mumblings of a familiar name reached your ears. Your eyes shot open once you recognized it as the name of Marc's deceased younger brother.

You slowly turned to face Marc's writhing figure, listening as whimpers, broken apologies, and protests fell from his lips. His thick brows were furrowed in obvious distress, his naked chest heaving as his breathing grew more erratic by the second.

And it made your chest ache.

Before you could think of how to proceed, Marc abruptly sat up, his brown eyes opening to adjust to your dimly lit room as he was launched out of his nightmare and back into your shared bedroom.

Gone were the mumbles and whimpers that previously befell his lips, now replaced by futile attempts to gain back control over his breathing.

But Marc's chest continued to heave as he swung his legs from beneath the bed's sheets to sit on the side of the bed, facing away from you. He leaned forward and held his face in his hands, silently willing his brain to acknowledge that the nightmare was over. It wasn't working.

You've been with Marc for around a year now so his occasional nightmares weren't foreign to you.

But one that triggered a reaction on this scale was.

No amount of harsh denial and forced smiles could push you away this time. Not when the man you loved was currently exuding more fear than he ever had in your whole relationship combined.

You slowly slid out of the bed, not wanting to make any sudden movements and jostle the shaken man.

Marc screwed his eyes shut when you came around to his side of the bed and into view.

You fell to your knees before him, not yet touching him until he wished for you to do so, but needing to offer him some kind of reassurance that he was okay.

"Marc?" you gently said his name, watching as he shoved the heels of his hands further into his face, "Baby, just focus on the sound of my voice. I'm right here with you okay?"

Beads of sweat dripped from his curls and into his palms as he slowly revealed his red-rimmed eyes to you.

"Marc, you're safe. You're here, with me, and you are safe," you assured him meaning every word.

Marc quickly nodded at your words and attempted to take a deep breath on his own, only for it to end in a body-wracking cough.

"Hey! Calm down baby, you're okay," you softly called out to him, noticing panic seep into his features once again as he looked around, haphazardly surveying his surroundings.

You began to reach out for his clenched fists and paused, "Can I touch you, Marc?" you calmly asked, receiving as best of a nod as he could give you while a few tears escaped his eyes.

You carefully reached out and unclenched Marc's fists before bringing one of his open shaky palms to rest on your chest right above your heart while both your other hands rested entangled on his knee. "You feel that, Marc? I'm right here. Come on, breathe with me baby," you pleaded.

Marc watched you deeply inhale before doing the same, his eyes never leaving yours and his hand taking in the gentle thud of your heart. You exhaled a few seconds after, with Marc doing the same, before doing it all over again.

You noted his chest slowing its rises and falls and allowed a small relieved smile to cross your lips.

Marc remained silent as he continued to breathe with you, refusing to break eye contact.

You, that determined look in your eyes, and the gentle smile that rested on your lips were the only things anchoring him at the moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you nervously questioned, though already knowing the answer.

Marc shook his head and took another deep breath.

"That's perfectly fine baby," you cooed, carefully standing up.

As soon as you steadied yourself on your feet, Marc leaned forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his face on your stomach. His grip on your body was borderline painful but you didn't care one bit, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head before cradling it in your hands.

"You have work in a few hours," his first words of the night came soon after, his voice rough with sleep and a lack of use, "You don't have to stay up with me," he added.

"I don't care," you replied instantly.

Marc shifted his head to look up at you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

"Contrary to popular belief," you began, using a hand to brush a stray damp curl off his forehead, "you don't have to do everything alone. I'm here for you, Marc, and I'm not leaving any time soon. Do you understand?" you met his gaze defiantly.

Marc swallowed harshly before nodding. His grip on your waist briefly tightened before you felt yourself being pulled onto his lap and further onto the bed.

You complied and settled your body on top of Marc's as he laid you both down on the bed.

"Are you sure this is comfortable for you?" you softly asked, referring to your opposition on top of him.

Your question caused him to pull you closer to his body than you thought was possible. He needed to feel you. He needed to know you were there, that you were real, and that what he experienced was no longer a reality he was doomed to.

"Talk," he prompted you with the singular syllable.

You lifted your head from where it was nuzzled in his chest to look up at him, seeing the silent plea in his eyes. Just keep me awake, please.

"Okay," you nodded eagerly.

You began to drone on about your day, telling Marc the latest gossip that you had received from your coworkers as well as a future project that could earn you a possible promotion.

Marc listened intently as you spoke, finding safety in your voice and the passion that enthralled it when you spoke of your job.

It wasn't long before you ran out of stories to tell and instead opted for humming some of Marc's favorite songs while holding his large palm open and tracing shapes in them with your fingers.

Marc felt the ghost of a smile trace his lips as he lay there with you wrapped around him, feeling safer than he ever did wrapped in Konshu's armor.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated.

💙Xingqiu x Reader💙

Author's note: Helloooo. It's been so long since the last time I posted something here. I apologize for taking so long before posting this one. I've been occupied with my research subject lately and we've been preparing for the research defense that will occur in just a few weeks (our teacher hasn't given us any schedule yet).

This is a comfort fic where the reader is trying to comfort his beloved Xingqiu. I hope you enjoy this and have a nice day.

I'll start posting once again after our scheduled experiment on research, which is this weekend.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

It's been almost a week since the last time you saw him. You were always at the bookstore in Liyue, not exactly waiting for him but just returning some books and taking some to read before returning them the next day, it's a simple cycle that you often do during good days. The last time you talked to him, he said that his family will be facing an upcoming task for the Feiyun Commerce Guild. You understand it as you knew he's a part of that guild, so you thought he might be really busy that he's not able to do his routine of reading books in the bookstore and talking to you.

His two best friends don't also have any idea when you asked them. The last time they saw him was when they tried to visit him on Saturday. They only see a glimpse of him and hear his words of apologies. He's busy, that's the summary of his apology. They didn't really talk for too long as Xingqiu was called by his brother, ending the conversation. You sighed. You're not mad about his lack of time, in fact, you're just really worried. And maybe you miss seeing him too or listening to his voice while he reads his favorite books to you. You miss him. You miss holding his hands, drawing circles on his palm, you miss his presence on your side.

Early in the morning, you went to his house. But you only met his assistant, you didn't see any glimpse of him or his smile, just the words of his assistant's excuse and apologies. 

"He's currently working on some important paper for the commerce guild, I'm sorry Mx. Y/n, but he ordered that he can't let any distraction in the meantime. He wanted to finish the tasks as soon as possible."

So you thanked him and bid him farewell. But before entirely leaving, you stop in front of his house, waving your hand as a farewell and sending a smile. You have a small glint of hope that he might see it. A hope that you send your message clearly to him. You're not mad and you'll keep waiting. As long as you know he's going back to you afterward, you can always wait.

"Y/n? We're about to close. It's getting really late, you should be going home now." Your mind snapped back to reality as you heard Ms. Jifang, the owner of Wanwen Book House. You closed the book that you didn't manage to read at all as your mind seems to wander. "Ah, I'm sorry. I guess I will be going now then. Can I keep this book in the meantime? I will-" "You always give the books you lend in time, why would I say no?"

You smiled, "Thank you, Ms. Jifang"

You bid her your last farewell for the day before setting off to a new location. A location just a few meters away from the Bubu Pharmacy. The both of you would always go there to read books to each other, reading random lines from your favorite books. 

The scenery of the moon and the sun can be quite a sight. There's also a tree around to lean on when taking a rest and that's what you're planning to do for the day.

You stopped on your tracks as you saw a familiar figure sitting under the tree, the blue hue of the moon lightning his figures. 

"Xingqiu?" 

You called him. You notice how he slightly flinches at your voice, probably surprised by your sudden presence. He looked at you for a second, smiling a bit before gazing at the moon.

Something is wrong, you can feel it. The way his eyes match the emotion of confusion with worries written all over it makes you feel unsettled. You decided to sit beside him, staying silent for a little while before finally speaking. "Why are you here...at this hour?"

You asked him, but his eyes remained gazing at the moon. Your question stayed lingering in the air and you felt like you didn't need to repeat it too. You waited, discarding the book you planned to read earlier to the side. "A lot of things...happened," he spoke softly, his fingers playing with the grass."I need to take a breath so I went here, you wouldn't mind, right, my dearest?"

His golden eyes met yours, silently pleading for him to let him join you in silence. You wanted to ask why or what happened, but the look on his face states that you didn't need to. He's willing to tell you everything, after all, bottling all emotions at once is not a good idea.

You smiled, "I wouldn't."

A chuckle escapes from his lips, sighing afterward as he leans back to the tree, staring directly at the moon. 

"Do you have any fears, y/n?" You blinked. "Yes, of course. I think that goes with everyone else." "What about, something you hate and fear at the same time?" You hummed, taking in the question deeply and pondering your answer. "Hate and fear, you say? I guess I have some too. I mean, that's a very thin line. At most times, you can hate something because you fear it. Since it's something that makes you uncomfortable, you can grow to hate it." "I see." Silence followed his words after that. You rested your back on the tree.  "I fear...that someday, I won't be able to do the things I enjoy. That one day, I would face all the responsibilities and carry all the burdens for our family's position." He spoke softly. You hummed, making sure that he knew you were listening. You're there to listen to all of his musings and worries, like what he always does to you. "You know, my brother is a bit of a...slacker. He seldom does his work and is supposed to be responsible so I was the one being caught up in it. It's my role to do my own responsibilities and support my brother." He continued. His eyes drifted away from the moon to yours. "I'm quite tired. I'm not really...I mean, it's my responsibility but, I think it's unfair or maybe I'm just being insensitive. This is my responsibility, I should shoulder it but I..."  You stared at him. His eyes look distraught like it's unable to convey the emotion he's feeling. It's too overwhelming for him. Most of the time, he's too calm and collected but his emotions are a haywire right now. He doesn't know how to understand his own frustration right now. Why is he frustrated in the first place? He shouldn't be. It's his role to serve the commerce guild, he's a disciple of justice. What is he thinking? Why is it so loud? Why is everything so loud inside his mind? "Xingqiu." You called him but he remains soullessly staring at you, he's too absorbed by his thoughts and too concentrated on solving them by himself. He doesn't even notice that his eyes are already welling up to tears. "Hey, Xingqiu." You gently caressed his cheeks, wiping his tears away with your fingers. He blinked at you, his eyes slowly returning to consciousness.  "It's alright to feel tired. It's fine to feel pressured. Don't downplay your emotions. It's normal to feel such a thing, you're not being irresponsible. It's not selfish to take a break. Most importantly, you do deserve a break from all of it." "But if I don't-" "But if you don't do your work, it will remain unfinished and might just pile up," you cut him off.  "I understand that, of course." You continued. "So for now, let's take a break together then tomorrow I'll help you. I can go around and ask for the things you need or sign some papers up. When we're done, I'll talk to your brother." "W-Wait, why would you talk to my brother?" He questioned. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about. I'm just going to inquire him with some-" "Y/n, please don't." He looked at you with pleading eyes. "Please don't tell him." You sighed. "I'm not going to. Unless it's from you, I'm not going to say anything. Don't worry about it. I'm just going to tell him that I will take you for a while." "Take me?" "Yes, take you. I would take you for some self-care treatment. You deserve it and I won't take no for an answer." He hummed, his head resting on your shoulder. "And if something comes up..." "If something big of a task came up, we would walk through it together. If it's a small one, leave it to your brother. I'm sure he can handle such small tasks."  You smiled as he sighed. "Are you sure about this?" "I've never been this sure, my dearest." He chuckled, smiling as he intertwined his fingers into yours. "Ah...I miss this feeling." "Feeling of..?" "Relief, my love. The feeling of calm and comfort. You're my safe haven, y/n."

Astraphobia/Lilapsophobia

   Loki felt his body tense a little as thunder surged overhead. Though he tried his best to ignore it, the sinking feeling in his stomach kept bringing his attention back every time the sound erupted. It practically shook the tower, but no doubt everyone else either wasn’t bothered or were already asleep.

   Of course, Loki was awoken by it, and thanks to his discomfort, he couldn’t bring himself to fall back asleep. Not until it passed at least.

   He wouldn’t admit it was a fear. The mere idea of him being afraid of thunder and lighting would’ve been laughable to anyone and everyone. ...Or at least that’s what he thought. But right as another crackle of thunder boomed outside, the light flashed through the room, making him jump, and the door to his room swung open loudly.

   (Y/N) slammed the door shut behind him. He had been trying to convince himself to knock and come in for a few minutes, feeling a bit embarrassed about wanting to not be alone during the storm. But after the ear-piercing sound and the bright light, he couldn’t stop himself from throwing the door open and immediately running in. His face was drained of colour and his eyes were wide. It looked like he had just seen a headless ghost. He was trying his best to hide it, but Loki could see that he was shaking.

   “...Are you alright?” (Y/N) almost couldn’t speak, he felt like there was a lump in his throat the size of an orange.

   “S-sorry.” He muttered. “Can I ju-just stay in here until the storm g-goes?” Before Loki could respond, another flash and boom sounded. Almost as if a flash bang had been thrown into the room. (Y/N) let out a loud yelp, and the next thing Loki knew, (Y/N) was snuggled up to him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he shook wildly.

   “...You’re afraid of thunder?” The slight tremble in Loki’s voice betrayed him, but at this point that barely mattered.

   “It’s childish, I know. It’s...it’s just so loud.” Loki could feel him sinking against him deeper as he muttered that little explanation. (Y/N)’s entire body tense as he anticipated another strike.

   It wasn’t just that it was loud though, or that it was sudden, but it was because of just how bad the storm had gotten. Shaking the tower, lighting everything so brightly that it felt like it could’ve blinded you. It just felt like it was only going to get worse.

   It didn’t take long before the power went out. The storm was far too violent for the tower’s system to take apparently. The only light was coming from the moon, the city, and the lightning strikes that still seemed to shake the tower.

   Loki, at this point, barely cared about his fear being found out, especially knowing (Y/N) had a similar, if not the same, fear. The two of them clutched each other tight, attempting in vain to distract themselves.

   Slowly but surely, the storm started to quiet down. It wasn’t gone yet, but it had at least calmed to the point that Loki's fight or flight response had quieted as well. He took a few moments to silently try and compose himself.

   “...It’s- it’s not childish. It bothers me just as much.” Loki muttered. (Y/N) nodded, unable to speak. Another clap of thunder, thankfully far quieter. “Ironic, isn’t it? Thor’s brother, afraid of thunder storms.”

   After a while, Loki’s soft voice and the quieting thunder started to calm them both down. The storm began to pass, as (Y/N) found his voice and began conversing with him in an attempt to drown out what remained of the noise. Loki explained that he used to be afraid of thunder when he was a child, as he ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. Apparently, there was a period of his life where he’d gotten over that fear with the help of Thor and Frigga. But after what happened on Asgard, and in the events leading up to the attack on New York, suddenly his fear had sprung up again, but far worse.

   The current calming atmosphere, the conversation, and the feeling of being in each other’s arms, however? It didn’t take long before the distant sound of thunder was leaving the two asleep.

   Asleep after a miraculous and unorthodox bonding experience.