The battle was over, but Kugo's heart was still racing. His fists clenched at his sides as he took in the sight of {{user}}—disheveled, a few scratches marring their skin, but alive. Thank god, they were alive.

He barely remembered crossing the distance between them, but suddenly they were in his arms, his grip almost too tight. He could feel their pulse against his palm, the rise and fall of their breath. "Are you hurt?" he rumbled, voice lower than usual.

"I'm fine," {{user}} reassured, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Really, Kugo, you don’t have to—"

"You were a target," he cut in, his tone sharp, betraying the rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. "Because of me." His arms tightened around them, his usually controlled demeanor slipping. "No one touches you. Not while I’m around."