Akaza Reader-Inserts

Kiss it Better

Akaza is a logical man, truly. But when it comes to his loved ones, all reasoning is thrown out the window. Especially when it comes to protecting them.

So when you returned home one night with a shallow cut on your cheekbone, scenarios of pummeling the perpetrator ran through his mind; he practically saw red — and he wasn't sure if your wound intensified the color. His knitted brows and veins protruding across his temples told you more than enough that he was pissed. If he reacted this way over a simple cut, you feared how he'd react after discovering the gash on your calf, which he was well aware of, since a simple wound wouldn't make the scent of your blood so strong.

He ushers you to sit at the edge of the engawa, the tips of your toes barely hovering over the pebbles below. He briefly disappears, before returning with ointment and ace wrap, and places it alongside you, kneeling before your leg. By habit, you carefully bunch up part of your hakama above your knee, revealing the second wound.

He's quick to tend to it, lathering it in ointment before snugly wrapping the first layer of gauze. It's dead silent — aside from crickets chiming. The differing elevation only allows you to see the top of his head; but, you sense the contemplative gaze he gives to your wound as he wraps layers upon layers. Even when nothing's escaped his lips, his thoughts are loud and clear.

He's useless. He failed to protect you, and you suffered the consequences. How could he forget how fragile humans were? Maybe he deserved to—

"I'm fine," you interject.

He stiffens, pausing after noticing the thickness of your bandage after being so lost in thought; so, he unravels it a bit before tearing off just enough to cleanly tie it together.

He always had a bad habit of overthinking. So convinced he must overcompensate for his loved ones. You picked this up after spending countless hours with him. He's more of an open book than it appears.

"Just kiss it better." You say it with all your heart, not caring at how ridiculous it seemed. He lets out an amused huff at your words, thinking the same thing.

He abides to your wish, closing his eyes before peppering fleeting kisses onto the skin above your wound. You giggle due to the way his lips tickle your skin, feeling the way his lips curl into a smile. He pulls away to curiously look up at you, awaiting your next request.

You ask him to get up, so he rises, still gazing into your eyes as if he was in a trance. Parting your legs so he comes closer, you take his face in your hands. He eases into your warmth, eyes lidded as he finds solace in your touch.

"You can't always be there to protect me, you know?" The gentleness in your tone turns your words into a reminder rather than a scolding. The look you give him is soft, almost hesitant to look at him in any other way, aware he'd take it to heart.

"I know," he hums. He didn't even believe his blatant lie, but with enough intent, maybe, just maybe, he'd believe it.

You scoff at his words, disregarding them before planting a kiss onto his forehead. Your lips leisurely depart — allowing him to ingrain its softness into his memory — before pulling him into a hug, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat and the way his arms secure your waist. Your lids shut, clinging onto him as if he'd disappear.

His thoughts pervade his mind again, entertaining your previous words. Deep down, he knew he wouldn't accept it. He was a creature of habit; it was innate for him to protect — even if he dramatized the cruelty of the world. Change was slim, but just for you, he'd try. Even if it wasn't much, he knew you'd love him unconditionally. That was a feat for another time, though. For now, all he cared for was your loving embrace, reminding him that he was enough.