A very short comfort piece with some light silliness at the end. Unnamed primarch x reader
He pushes the door open, slightly breathless, and finds the room completely dark.
"Beloved?" He calls, searching the shadows for you familiar form. A soft whimper catches his ears and he steps forward, letting the door fall completely shut behind him. He doesn't need light to see, he knows this room like the back of his hand. "Where are you hiding?"
"Here…" Your hand appears from under a pile of blankets, waving at him before tucking back in at another loud crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for barely a second. He tries to ignore the scared little squeak that comes out of you, but finds that achingly difficult.
Approaching the bed, he sits down on the edge, feeling around for the edges of the blanket so he can peel it back enough to see you. You whine at the loss of your makeshift security measure, looking up at him with big, anxious eyes. You were curled tight, and even shaking a little.
He should have been home earlier.
He reaches to stroke your face oh so gently, his hearts aching for you. He knew you were terrified of storms, knew you didn't like how loud they could get. You'd never really elaborated as to why, but he could take several educated guesses. He never pushed the subject, though, he only promised you that he would do his best to help you feel safe when you needed it.
"It's all right now," He says, voice low and gentle. "I'm here."
You reach for him, and he lets you pull him to lie next to you, wrapping himself around you, pressing you close as if you could absorb his calm through touch alone.
He tightens his hold on you when you flinch at yet another round of thunder, your whole body shaking as you cling to him. Oh, how he hated to see you like this. He wished he knew better ways to help, wished he could reach into your mind and erase whatever trauma had you so terrified over something so arguably mundane. But he couldn't, so for now, this had to be enough.
He holds you until well after the storm passes. After the winds die and the rain stops and the lightning is nothing but a vague memory. He doesn't let go until you start to wiggle for freedom, finally uncomfortable trapped under him.
You don't go far, just enough to breathe a little easier. He keeps his hand on your waist, letting his fingers sneak under your shirt to press into your skin, rubbing soft lines into you. You always liked that.
"The worst of it has passed," He says. "Do you feel better?"
"Mm," You nod. Then, after a moment, you mumble a soft "I'm sorry."
"What for?" He asks, sliding his hand to your back to pull you closer again.
"I feel like a child," You mumble into his chest. This was a common complaint you had about your own reaction to this kind of weather. He just runs his fingers through your hair and hums.
"There's nothing wrong with being afraid," He says.
You don't answer, you just burrow deeper into him. He kisses your head, then rolls onto his back, pulling you along to lie on his chest.
"I'm afraid of all kinds of things," He says softly. "I'm afraid one day you won't be here when I return. That what I do will never be enough to satisfy my father," He pauses for a moment, then adds, "And I'm a little afraid of the dark."
You prop yourself up to look down at him for a moment, and he's almost completely sure you're going to call him out on the lie. But then you flop back down, nuzzling into his neck.
"Well…I'm not scared of the dark, so I guess I'll have to protect you."
He laughs, giving you a gentle squeeze.
"Very well, I'll be counting on you."
