#angsty cuddles

[rexcantread]

AGHHHHH LITERALLY SOBBIN BECAUSE OF @somerandomdudelmao AND THEIR UNCLE TELLO HAVE SOME ART BECAUSE THIS IS MY COPING MECHANISM AND I WANT MY BOY TO GET BETTER, PLUS SOME ANGSTY CUDDLES OF DONNIE AND NIX!!

[embryoblast]

AHHHHHHHHHH my OCs try not to be traumatized challenge! (Very hard)

[suzukiblu]

Please, cuddling, and TimKon?

. . . I am sorry but also I am NOT sorry for what I have done with this reply, but hey, why don't we all enjoy this one being the only prompt fill from this meme that got a read-more cut??

“Please,” Kon tries, trying not to look–he doesn’t know, weird and needy and like an embarrassment, or whatever. It feels like such a stupid thing to ask for. He knows Tim’s not really a hugger or a touchy-feely guy or whatever and that he likes having his own space and basically always hops out of bed right after sex to go write down all the shit his post-nut clarity made him think of, and the idea of, like, just staying still and actually cuddling or whatever is probably basically literal torture to him, assuming it’s ever even occurred to him at all, just . . . 

Just he’d kind of like to sometimes, maybe? Like–not regularly or whatever, he’s not trying to drive Tim nuts or cut into either his worktime or downtime here, just . . .

Just he’d like to do it sometimes, that’s all. 

Tim’s not the tactile type. Tim isn’t even the eye contact type, unless he’s lying to somebody or at work or just faking it for Robin-mode or whatever. Kon gets that. He’s been, like–careful about that. Not trying to take up too much space or ask for too much attention or mind when Tim doesn’t even look up at him when he– 

He’s been careful about it. 

But he is . . . well. The tactile type. Like . . . kind of, anyway. 

Like–it’s kinda unavoidable, honestly. 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him in just enough bemusement to make him feel even more self-conscious about bringing this shit up to begin with, and Kon tries to keep his expression casual and noncommittal and–and just normal about this. Because he is totally normal about this. He is so normal about this. He is.

He’s also normal about the fact that when he asked Tim if he could talk to him about something, Tim didn’t even put down his tablet. Didn’t even put it to sleep, or actually even look up from it until . . . 

Kon’s normal about that. About all of this. 

(and he definitely never feels kind of weird or a little bit abandoned because Tim can’t EVER just bring his stupid laptop back to bed or at least work on whatever he’s thinking about IN the bedroom at the untouched desk he's got set up in there or even just, like . . . stick around and hang out on the couch with him, or anything like that. he definitely totally ENTIRELY doesn’t ever just feel like a casual fuckbuddy or an easy hookup or a gala-night accessory or just the most immediately convenient option and not actually–not actually any kind of a–not actually something that– 

he doesn’t. 

definitely.)

“Uh,” Kon says, and backpedals awkwardly, because clearly this conversation is not going the way he’d wanted it to and Tim just looks so surprised by it all, like–like it never even occurred to him or something, that maybe . . . that maybe Kon would want anything like that, or like he literally just hasn’t noticed how hard Kon’s been trying to be normal about it, or . . . 

It doesn’t feel very good, the idea he’s been trying so hard to respect Tim’s space and preferences and comfort levels and Tim hasn’t even noticed that he was doing anything at all. 

Especially because Tim usually notices just about everything. 

Maybe Tim’s just never thinking about it. Maybe he gets out of bed so quick because he’s spent the whole time in it thinking about other shit and just putting up with–just– 

“Kon,” Tim says, his voice going a little tight, and Kon just tries not to wince. He didn’t mention any of the complicated stuff he’s been trying not to feel, he just asked if Tim could–if Tim would– 

He didn’t even mention any of the complicated stuff, so it’s, like–not a great sign that Tim’s looking at him like that right now, like he’s said something really serious or upsetting or . . . 

He really shouldn’t have said anything, yeah. 

“Sorry,” he tries stiffly, glancing away and wrapping his hand around his own wrist and digging his fingers into the inside of it. It’s–tactile. Just . . . something tactile. “I know you don’t–sorry. Uh. Just forget it.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters for some reason, and Kon feels like such an idiot for saying anything at all, and a worse one for apparently doing it in a way that’s got Tim making that face at him. That face is Robin’s “my utility belt is empty, comms are fried, and the mission just went to shit” face. 

He really fucked this up. It was fine. Everything was fine, and now he’s wrecked it and Tim’s about to say it’s not even that serious, it’s not like it’s even–not like they’re even–and that Kon’s clearly gotten the wrong idea and they should just–just– 

“How long have you felt this way?” Tim asks very, very carefully, like the question’s something fragile, and Kon thinks from literally the first fucking time you left me alone in bed all night so you could go recalibrate some stupid useless specialty sensor that wasn’t even part of your primary gear, like, a WEEK into us sleeping together and says, “I dunno. It’s not–I told you. Forget it. It’s not a big deal.” 

He’s being weird about this. He’s being an asshole about this, actually, because being prepared for literally every single possible contingency ever is the Bats’ whole thing and he got into this knowing Tim wasn’t the touchy-feely type or all that expressive and emotive about–about his feelings, or whatever, and–and it’s not like he even–not like he– 

(he just wants a fucking HUG he didn't have to FUCK him for every now and then, or for Tim to at least exist in the same space as him for longer than the time it takes for the next email from Oracle to come in or next alert from Batman to go off or next self-assigned project to finish processing or–

but that’s not something Tim does, and Kon knew that going in, so–so it’s his own stupid fault if he feels SMALL sometimes, when . . . when there’s always something else, always another problem to solve or place to be or thing to think about, always . . . always something more important than just . . . staying, just for a little bit, and just BEING with–with him. just him. not the team, or either of their families, or . . .)

He knew all this going in, Kon reminds himself. He knew it. If he were this bad at being with literally anyone else, he’d just–he’d just– 

But something about it being Tim means he just . . . can’t. 

Tim’s jaw tightens, and he finally sets down his stupid tablet. 

Only now, though, Kon thinks bitterly, and digs his fingers a little deeper into the inside of his wrist. 

“Kon,” Tim says again, says too carefully again. Like something’s fragile, again. “I–” 

“I said forget it, for fuck’s sake!” Kon snaps too hotly, and maybe hates himself for both doing it and for the stricken look that doing it puts on Tim’s face, and also maybe cheats a bit by super-speeding straight out the balcony door into the night air and not taking his cell or his communicator with him. Or–definitely does, in fact. Definitely that’s cheating. He knows it is. 

He just really can’t stand to hear Tim tell him how he’s fucked up this time right now, though. He just–he tried so fucking hard not to fuck up this time. 

He really, really tried. 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but . . . but he really did try.

[cursedonyx]

HL Cast React to you Cradling Them When They’re Upset

Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian craves physical comfort like a starving man craves bread, but he’s very rarely had the opportunity to express it. Solomon was not the hugging sort, Ominis typically loathes physical contact unless it’s necessary, and Anne… well. The curse makes it hard for her to bear a cuddle for long. Sebastian has trained himself to give brief hugs and pats on the back, if anything at all, worrying that he’ll be seen as clingy, needy, or annoying if he holds on too tight, or too long. The last thing he wants to be is annoying, least of all to you. He has to be strong, he has to be cheerful, he has to be the one that everyone relies on. That means he’s useful, and people will stay by him. He can’t be a burden, or he’ll be abandoned.

So when you find him in the Restricted Section, surrounded by books and weeping into his hands at the sheer hopelessness of everything, he’s stunned when your immediate reaction is to pull him into your lap. He tenses, embarrassed by his display of emotion and afraid of needing you too much. But the longer you hold him, the more his defences crumble, and it’s not long before he’s sobbing into your shoulder, unable to speak, desperate to be held, to be loved, to be given the affection he’s been denied for so long. He clings to you for hours, alternately apologising and crying some more.

Once he’s calmed down enough to think straight, he realises you’ve not let him go. He begins to worry, fretting that you’re only doing this to be nice, but you still don’t let him go. He begins to relax into you, accepting that finally, finally, he can hold and be held like he needs. He’s got years of missing affection to make up for, and this is only the start. From this moment, any moment not touching you is considered a moment wasted, and Sebastian will hold your hand, link your arms together, hook your ankle over his under the table, or simply sit close enough so his arm or leg is up against yours. That is, if he’s not outright hugging you or snuggling you. For the first few months, you’ll be lucky if you get five minutes to visit the loo alone, and he gets twitchy if you’re apart from him for too long.

He's yours for life. Treat him kindly.

Ominis Gaunt

Ominis isn’t really one for physical affection, especially if you’re only friends, or in the early stages of your relationship. He’s not used to it, almost afraid of it, having never really experienced it as a child, and disliking the rough, enthusiastic, inexperienced hugs his friends give. It’s nothing like the tender affection he craves, and ever the gentleman, he’s worried about overstepping his boundaries. Ever the traumatised soul, he’s afraid of asking for what he really wants. He knows this isn’t something he can demand, as he has been taught a Gaunt would.

He doesn’t emote much, especially negative emotions. He’s always been taught to hide negative feelings or any kind of extreme emotion, and he wears that self-control like armour. But he’s not infallible, things still get to him, especially as he bottles things up. So when a particularly barbed jab from another student gets under his skin, he retreats to the Undercroft to rant at the air. This is how you find him, striding up and down and shouting at nothing, as if he’s arguing with someone.

Of course, he’s very embarrassed to be found this way, and tries to cover it by sliding back into the careful neutrality he so often wears. You know better though. You sit behind him, slide your arms around his chest, and pull him into your lap, your hand at the back of his head, letting him rest against you.

It sparks a memory he thought he’d buried. He was four, he’d tripped over and scraped his knee. His parents had scolded him for crying, growing more irate as their harsh words upset him further, and then Aunt Noctua was there, lifting him into her arms and bearing him away from the pain and the anger that was all his parents ever gave him. She’d taken him to her rooms in the Manor and settled in a chair, holding his head to her chest and humming a lullaby, soothing him with a hand on the back of his head.

It’s one of the last memories he has of her, and as it surfaces, he breaks. No matter how much he tries to pull it back, he just can’t, and your arms are iron around him, like a cage. But it’s a cage he doesn’t want to be released from, craving the warmth of your embrace, longing for the love and safety that is such a distant, fragmented memory, something that seemed like an impossible dream until now. He feels he should be embarrassed by this horrendous display of failed control, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s a problem for future Ominis. Right now, all he cares about is the feel of your heartbeat against his cheek, the gentle scent of your skin, the feel of your body against his as you hold him so tenderly. To his utter disbelief, you hum a gentle melody. It’s not the lullaby Noctua used to sing, but it’s soft and warm and comforting.

After this, Ominis is much more free with his affection with you, though he still keeps it to a minimum around others. If he’s ever had a bad day, or just needs comforting, he leans into you in a particular way that you come to learn means he wants to be held like that again. He knows you’ll never judge him for it, and he loves you all the more because of it. He becomes increasingly protective of you, fearing losing you, but he is ever respectful of your boundaries.

When he thinks back over all the days you spent together, he realises the time you first held him like that was the moment his subconscious mind began planning your wedding, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is a naturally cheerful person, and while he can get irritable, it’s over quickly and he’s back to being happy. It’s very rare for him to get upset for any significant period of time, so it’s quite a shock when you find him in his dorm, head hanging, faded tear-tracks on his cheeks. He tries to brush it off, of course, to make a joke or try to make you laugh, but you know better. You sit beside him and ask, and he tries to change the subject. But with a little prodding, he eventually tells you, grudgingly, miserably, what's made him so down.

It doesn’t take much to convince him to curl up in your arms. Garreth has always been comfortable with affection, and would probably still climb in his mum’s lap if he didn’t worry that he’d flatten her. He’s worried that he’ll squash you and takes a good while for him to relax, but once he does, he fully flops on you, murmuring soft little sounds of contentment as you rub his back or play with his hair. If you try to pull away too soon, he pretends he’s still sad so you’ll cuddle him more, even if he’s feeling on top of the world that you’d be so kind to him.

It tells him that you’re just like him, happy to snuggle and happy to do what’s needed to make him feel good, as he would for you. He feels a deeper bond with you than before, and the rest of Hogwarts can expect to find the pair of you draped over each other in all corners of the castle after this.

Leander Prewett

It’s… a little awkward to begin with, especially because an upset Leander is often a hostile Leander, as it's the way he's learned how to protect himself. You eventually convince him to let you hold him, but it takes a while. Leander is very tall with rather long limbs, so getting him in your lap in the first place is a struggle, especially as he’s so resistant to begin with. He’s already embarrassed enough by being emotional then snappy in front of you, worried that you’re going to make fun of him or worse, pretend to be nice and tease him mercilessly later. It’s the last thing he needs. But, with a little coaxing (and a bit of tugging) you manage to settle him in your lap. Yeah, the height difference is even more noticeable now, but that doesn’t matter to you. You make sure he’s comfy and hold him tight, not saying a word, just letting your hug do the talking for you.

He doesn’t tell you what set him off this time, what made him so upset. But after a long while as he curls around you, his head on your shoulder, his legs dangling over the edge of the chair or bed on which you sit, he tells you little things about his past. Some of them are happy memories or silly stories. Some of them are not. Leander bears his soul to you in bits and pieces, every word he speaks the truth, and all you need to do is listen. This is the moment he truly falls for you, a helpless, headlong tumble, and he would fight a dragon with a wooden sword to keep you from this moment on.

Amit Thakkar

Amit has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and is free with his emotions around you once you two become firm friends, or a couple. He’s a gentleman through and through, though this is mostly down to his natural shyness. He prefers to focus on you and your problems than his own, assuring you that he’s perfectly alright if you find him feeling down. You find him one evening staring down at his telescope, on the verge of tears, as the lens has cracked. He doesn't mind telling you why it's so upsetting to him, expecting a hug or maybe a pat on the back. So it’s quite the surprise to him when you pull him into your lap and snuggle him close, and at first, he’s not sure what to do with himself. He holds himself very still and stiff, and you have to encourage him to relax more than once.

He soon finds himself sinking into your embrace, comforted by your presence and your kindness, the pair of you warming each other atop the chilly Astronomy Tower. He’ll freely admit to you what’s been preying on his mind as the lens was just the straw that broke the camel's back, and shyly admit he really enjoys this particular kind of cuddle. He’ll probably doze off in your lap if you sit like this too long, and Amit is a very heavy sleeper. If he manages to stay awake, he’ll run his hand over your back, trying to reciprocate some of the attention you’re giving him, trying to say without words just how much things like this mean to him.

He won’t indulge often, he likes to be the one holding you, but it’s comforting for him to know that it’s something he can enjoy if he truly needs a pick-me-up.

Andrew Larson

In all fairness, Andrew will be climbing into your lap the moment you give the barest hint that this is what you’re going to do when he’s upset. He’s free with his affection in a more subdued way than Garreth, perhaps, but he makes no secret of how much he loves being snuggled up in your lap. He loves the security of being held, especially if you play with his hair. It’s guaranteed to cheer him up in no time at all, no matter how low he’s feeling. He loves draping his head and arms over your shoulders, and if you’re strong enough to carry him, he’ll fall in love with you if you carry him to bed when he starts to drift off.

In fact, Andrew loves this attention and affection so much he might even make himself get all teary eyed if it means you’ll draw him into your lap and rock him back and forth, even if there’s nothing actually wrong. Once he learns you’ll cuddle him the way he wants regardless if whether he’s actually upset or not, he’ll quit with the crocodile tears and swap them for happy little giggles.

Poppy Sweeting

You’ve barely put your arms around her before Poppy has slung her arms around your neck, swinging her legs up and snuggling into your chest. It’s almost as if she’s been made to fit especially in your lap, her cheek fitting perfectly into the crook of your shoulder. She might play with your hair a little to distract herself from whatever it is that’s upset her, but she’ll be honest with you if you ask what the matter is. She’s always been a cuddly sort, and regardless of whether you’re simply friends or are dating, Poppy’s always going to be giving you hugs or asking for piggyback rides (or just climbing on you anyway). This is a natural progression for the both of you, though Poppy will most likely want to do the same for you the next time you’re upset.

She’s stronger than she looks, so don’t worry about squashing her.

Natsai Onai

Natsai has always been an affectionate soul, but she’s also tough as old iron and rarely shows when she’s upset unless it’s about to overcome her. She learned in her fifth year that she could always reach out to you when she was upset, so that’s what she does. It’s still a surprise for her when you pull her into your lap to hold her, she was only expecting a friendly pat on the back or perhaps a brief hug, but your gesture is welcome nonetheless. It reminds her of the way her father would hold her when she was little, and she takes great comfort in it. It’s not something Natsai will tolerate for long, as she’s always been good at recovering from upset quickly, and being an energetic soul, it’s not long before she’s fidgeting and wanting to move about. She prefers to be the one holding you at any rate, and can sit still for hours if she does. She’s always felt much more comfortable in giving affection than receiving it, though she really does enjoy it when you do.

Imelda Reyes

Lol are you joking? When Imelda’s upset she wants to be alone, and if you try and intrude on her when she’s having a bad day or worse, actually crying, she’ll chase you all through the Highlands just to beat you up. Sure, she’ll probably apologise afterwards when she’s calmed down, but she’s got a reputation to uphold as Hogwarts’ baddest bitch, and she won’t ever let anyone see her cry, let alone in anyone’s lap. Now, if it’s you that’s upset? You can bet your arse she won’t let you get off her lap unless you’re about to pass out or are busting for a piss.

Masterlist

[z-socks]

What's in a Name

Clones take great pride in their names. It's only natural that Cody would want to know about his General's.

Or Cody and Obi-Wan talk about the meaning and origins of their names. AO3

There were many things that came to light in the cool darkness of Obi-Wan’s quarters aboard the Negotiator. Shared in secret - although most of the vode seemed to know the true nature of his relationship with Cody - the dimly lit, small space of his room seemed to function as a kind of confessional, a sacred space where he and his beloved commander could whisper about their closely-guarded thoughts, feelings, worries, and hopes. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan began, gently nuzzling deeper into his commander’s neck, languid and at ease as he returned to Cody’s arms, body cooling from their previous activities. “Why did you choose your name?” 

Cody kissed his forehead and pulled the sheets up around their waists, settling Obi-Wan onto his chest and slowly teasing his fingertips across the constellations of freckles on his jetti’s bare back. “It means glory in Mando’a.” 

Obi-Wan blinked a moment. ‘Cody’ wasn’t a Mandalorian word and ‘glory’ was…

Oh. 

“ Kote ,” Obi-Wan murmured. 

Cody hummed and pulled him tighter. 

“Have I…” Obi-Wan pushed up onto his elbow, “have I been saying it wrong this whole time?” 

Cody grinned, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s neck. “That dorn and trill sound is close in the vode accent.” He kissed at his jaw. “And maybe even closer in yours.”  

Obi-Wan frowned. “Why didn’t you ever correct me? I haven’t even spelled it correct-” 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody’s eyes were molten gold in the cast light from the meditation candle Obi-Wan had left lit. “It’s… I… the once-removal is… protective.” 

“What do you mean?”

Cody smiled sadly, eyes suddenly heavy. “Well Mandalore isn’t exactly on best terms with the Republic. And Clones…” 

Obi-Wan dropped his head. Yes, the attitude towards Clones was atrocious at worst, indifferent at best. “A high-ranking Clone with a Mandalorian name wouldn’t be a good look for the GAR,” he concluded. 

Cody nodded. 

Obi-Wan settled back down into his arms, his fingers tracing over a blaster bolt scar near Cody’s collarbone. “Would you prefer I call you Cody or Kote ?” 

“Cody.” But after a breath, after his hand rested solidly on the small of Obi-Wan’s back he added, “Maybe Kote when we’re here. Alone.” 

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed Cody’s shoulder, letting his eyes droop shut at the feeling of warmth that spread through him while encircled in Cody’s arms. 

“What about you?” Cody asked after a moment. 

“Hmm?”

“What does your name mean?” 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan tried not to stiffen too much at the question. He didn’t want Cody to know he’d hit a bit of a sore spot. But it was for naught as Cody tilted his chin up with a gentle finger. 

“I’m sorry, cyare . I didn’t mean-” 

“No, it’s quite alright.” He took a deep breath and released his ancient, engrained trepidation into the Force. “I was surrendered to the Jedi Temple at six months old. A note was pinned to my swaddlings that read Obi-Wan Kenobi . The Order mistook it as my name; Stewjon is not a Core World and very few travel to and from it making the language rather unknown. But I researched it one day many years later. Obi means no or not or none. Wan is to call. So, 'not called.'” He sighed, letting his fingers dance over Cody’s chest. “In other words, no name.” 

Cody’s voice was barely above a whisper. “And Kenobi ?” 

“ Ken is a suffix for family, a clan.”

“Clan none?” 

Obi-Wan put on a tired and broken smile. “No name, No people.” Abandoned, his mind supplied, pulling at old feelings of unwantedness. 

“A Foundling,” Cody breathed. 

“What?” 

“In Mandalorian culture you’d have been a Foundling.” 

And oh that sounded so much nicer than abandoned and unwanted and all the other harsh words that circled through his mind at the thought of his name’s origin. He huffed a little laugh, “Perhaps that’s why I was drawn to the mission of protecting Satine on Mandalore.” He sighed and tightened his grip around Cody’s waist. “That or choosing a new name to go undercover.” 

“What made you pick ‘Ben’?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly. “Well now, we’ve come full circle in this conversation.” 

Cody raised a brow. 

“‘Ben’ was a phonetic cousin to Byn B-Y-N, Stewjoni for a watchtower or sentinel.” 

Cody grinned and landed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek. “That’s quite fitting.” Another kiss. “Would you want me to call you Byn ?” 

“Maybe when we’re here. Alone,” he echoed back Cody’s words from earlier. “But if it’s all the same to you, darling,” he began, scooting up closer and capturing Cody’s lips into a kiss, “I much prefer cyare .” 

[nomstellations]

a fun angsty thing ive been thinking about preds that HAVE to eat live prey. Maybe not digest them, but regular food makes them sick and their body demands living food. the pred doesn't want to even consider eating anyone out of fear of hurting them, but they'll HAVE to eventually...

[ladsofsorrow24]

(x)

commission link -> (x)

[sleepy-spacetronaut]

Detox old man yaoi - Queer platonic BillFord

Start note : Okay little clarification, Bill in the top right corner is crying, but the picture quality is bad so it’s hard to tell what the heck is going on. And I apologize for Ford’s weird haircut, I’ll give him his fluffy hair back (I tend to mess with character’s hair a lot…never on purpose , I swear 😁 unless I make them bald.).

Once Bill returns to Gravity Falls for the sake of his redemption arc, his relationship with Stanford is bound to be rocky. They bicker a lot and often cannot get along on the way to do domestic things. It would take a long time before they start to bond together again , considering how the trauma of the past abuse left Ford scarred for life.

Thought since Bill can’t do much with his limited powers, Ford doesn’t perceive him as a threat. They hang out together sometimes when Bill doesn’t have to work at the cash register or around the shack. Bill still had trouble identifying what exactly he feels for Stanford, and would try to pursue him romantically for around a month before giving up. (I headcanoned Ford as oriented aro-ace for this specific AU)

But sometimes they have wholesome moments they share: Bill and Ford seldom sit on the couch together, and when it happens, they cuddle up and Ford combs his fingers through Bill’s hair while reading, it’s soothing for both of them. Bill tends to fall asleep very quickly after that—he’s desperately touch-starved and has no idea—-

Bonus (something from my camera roll) :

[gojosatorailme]

I’m desperate for Nagumo from Sakamoto Days so might as well take the initiative and write a fic myself. I’m now taking over this hashtag, this man shall be KNOWN.

Lovesick

A blood tainted battlefield. This is the life you chose the moment you entered the JCC. It wasn’t going to be “sugar spice and everything nice” oh no, it was gonna be hell and you knew it. The longer time passes, the more comrades were bound to fall..bound to die. It was inevitable.

But that doesn’t stop the racing of your anxious heart when you saw them fight.

It doesn’t stop your heart from worrying about him.

Nagumo. 

Sakamoto, Akao, Nagumo, and you. The four of you were tasked to infiltrate an enemy from Thailand, the four actually meaning three.

You were only a first year, you tagged along as an observer. The three were the strongest in the assassin class, you wanted to experience their missions first hand.

Before the mission, you didn’t exactly know much about the three nor did you have a strong opinion on them.

“Taro Sakamoto. Strong.. does he talk??”

“Rion Akao. Totally a hot babe”

“Nagumo…. dunno?”

None of them caught your interest, you just wanted to see them fight and maybe steal a few signature moves for your own benefit.. with your own tweaks of course.

None of them caught your eye, besides him of course. Who the hell is he? I mean, he was attractive sure. He had big eyes, remotely long lashes, long shaggy-ish black hair and.. his tattoo’s. His tattoos were what got you, it was like he was a canvas. Works of art were painted throughout his entire body, it was beautiful. Not to mention his physique, he was so your type.

But he was just so mysterious? There wasn’t much about him that you could pin point, he wasn’t as readable. He’s smart and strong yeah but what goes on in his head you don’t get it? What even is his surname? Meaning to his tattoos? If he wants to fu- he was a mystery.

That’s why he was so captivating. His movements were smooth and quick, you barely saw it as he sliced open an enemies head. Then down another, and another, then eventually there was a pile of bodies that littered the floor accompanied by the reeking stench of blood.

You were supposed to only tag along for one mission, but after meeting Nagumo, you practically begged to tag along again. Then you became a permanent member of the team.

At first, you wanted to see what you can learn from them in order to be stronger. But now, it’s for him. You wanted an excuse to see him. It didn’t take you long to realize that this interests developed into a crush.

You couldn’t help it, the more you hung around him the more entranced you became. You wanted to believe he was using a sort of assassin technique to seduce you, maybe his dark eyes were the culprit? Everytime you gazed into them you couldn’t find yourself looking away.

He’s so silly, he’s pretty cool too. It was strange, you thought he was kinda weird but his laugh never fails to make your face feel warm. The room felt hot when he was there, at one point you wanted to escape.

At one point the feelings made you feel trapped, suffocated maybe. Seeing him made you anxious, you made a fool of yourself. Fumbling over your words and avoiding his gaze, he’s a smart guy so your sure he’s caught on by now. It got so bad you began throwing up in the morning worried you’d see him, what does he think of you?? Your stomach would always feel funny at the thought.

His laugh began to make you feel dizzy.

Why was he so cute?

It didn’t help that he smelled sooo good, a cold blooded assassin that smells GOOD? You don’t hear that everyday.

These feelings stop you from reaching your full potential as an assassin, even limiting you from your original powers.

Even now, as Nagumo is on the ground with a bloodied stomach, you can’t protect him. The others were in another building and it was only you two, being overcome with the tension, you messed up and he was forced to take the blow.

He could’ve easily taken on the enemy on his own, he was strong after all, but he had to save you. Why? You don’t know. You don’t even want to bother deluding yourself with the thought that he’d like you back.

The enemy was eventually killed but what do you do with a bloodied Nagumo? You don’t know either. He’s just laughing.

“It’s okay I’ll be fine in a bit, that guy was a small fry anyway!! He barely stabbed me no worries.”

Oh but you were worried. You were so worried, you felt disgusted about yourself, he was bleeding from the stomach and your getting butterflies from the mere thought of his hand touching your shoulder. Gross.

The butterflies remained as Akao and Sakamoto helped you carry Nagumo back to base where he can get proper treatment.

The butterflies remained when you got back to your dorm at the JCC.

The butterflies remained for a long time.

You cant possibly continue like this could you? your an assassin, a killer. That’s your purpose here, there’s no room for love.

with trembling legs, you walked to the infirmary where Nagumo layed.

His stomach was recovering quickly, the doctor said he’d be able to go on missions by next week.

“Hey y/n! ya here to visit me?”

He waited for your answer as you sat down near his bed side.

“You look pretty serious, something wrong?”

first, an apology.

“I’m sorry, I was weak so you had to save me. I’ll be better, thank you.”

and before he could answer, with a shaky sigh and eyes tightly shut you took in a deep breath.

“I love you.”

It came out as a whisper, barely audible. You were worried he didn’t hear you and you were dreading the thought. You seriously didn’t want to repeat it.

His expression was blank.

It scared you.

The atmosphere was choking you, you wanted to cry.

Noticing his expression, you took the hint and turned to leave. How silly right? You almost git the guy killed and you have the audacity to confess? hah!

“I know.”

You stopped in your tracks. He knows? He knows what?? That your stupid? That someone like him was out of your league? That you were weak and almost killed hi-

hm? whats this?

Your lips feel warm.

Oh. He was kissing you.

he was.. HE WAS WHAT?

you froze still, eyes wide. You were sure you looked like an idiot. Even after he pulled away and a small string of saliva was visible, even after he smiled at you. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening? The situation seemed foreign to you.

It wasn’t until you heard loud cackling that you snapped out of your trance.

“I love you too stup- y/n.”

[strangerstilinski]

roommate!steve hurt/comfort blurb — coming 7.27 👀

[jubilantmedusa]

Untitled Zukka Hurt/Comfort Ficlet #2

“It was good of you to bring him here,” Piandao said.

They were gathered in his library, dried and warmed and fed after their long flight through a misting sky. Night had fallen, the world lit now by torches and candles, casting strange shadows on their drawn faces.

Sokka’s arms felt empty. He had held Zuko through the flight as Zuko had shivered and shivered.

“Zuko’s inner flame has gone out.” Piandao’s voice was even, but the pinch of his mouth betrayed upset. “Not many people know the old ways, the healing of the Firebenders. But Zuko’s uncle does. I have the means to contact Iroh. There is hope yet.”

The silence in the room didn’t feel hopeful. “I thought the ‘inner flame’ thing was a metaphor,” Sokka said, bursting it.

“It’s more spiritual than physical, but it is very real,” Piandao explained. “Our bodies and spirits are entwined. Spiritual damage often manifests physically.”

“Like when you’re upset so you have nightmares,” Aang said.

Piandao gave a curt nod. “Similar,” he said. “This is more severe.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Sokka said. His stomach was churning. “Firebenders have an extra spirit part? And if that part is damaged they just waste away?”

That’s what’d been happening ever since Zuko’d thrown himself in front of Aang, taking an arrow laced with something sinister. A gift from Azula by way of the assassins that had been perusing them since they left the Western Air Temple.

At first Zuko’d been hyped up, unable to stop moving for hours and hours. When he crashed, Sokka thought it might actually be a good thing. Get some sleep. Be better in the morning.

But Zuko’d woken up disoriented, confused. And every time he’d woken since there was less of him.

He was growing colder. Sokka didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was that his arms were itching with emptiness.

“We all have inner flames of a sort,” Piandao said. His turned towards Sokka. “Even you and I. But Firebending… to create an element from the spirit’s own energy…” He swirled his hand, then winced, shaking his head. “Iroh will explain when he arrives.”

“When will that be?” Toph asked, leaning forward, harsh torchlight light shining directly in her sightless eyes. “Is he far away?”

“Iroh’s been in hiding since he escaped from Caldera, but I can reach him,” Piandao said, pointedly not answering the question. So they had where Iroh was then. He could be half a world away.

To Sokka’s right, Katara shifted, leaning forward, shadow dancing across her cheek. Sokka could see her eyes and… he knew that look. She had an answer on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t want to ask the question. “Master Piandao,” she said. Katara would push through anything, even this. “This has happened before.”

“Yes,” he said. “Though it’s exceedingly rare.”

Katara nodded, eyes coming in and out of view as she did. “It’ll kill him,” she said, and Sokka could see Aang sinking at her side, head bowing down until his forehead was pressed into the wooden table.

Now it was Sokka turn. He didn’t want to, but he had to, mouth choking on the words. “How long?”

Piandao’s mouth pinched further. “I’ve only read accounts,” he said, “Some say as long as two weeks. Others, three days.”

Sokka was on his feet before he could breath, his footfalls echoing impossibly loud as he thundered across the tatami floor.

It had already been four days.

—

The room where they put Zuko was small and square, usually used as a dormitory for Piandao’s students. It had a simple bed with plain gray sheets, a sturdy but unremarkable desk. Flames roared in its large fireplace, making the room almost uncomfortably warm.

That’s the reason they chose it. It was easy to keep warm.

A wooden chair had been pulled up beside the bed. In it, Fat sat, an empty bowl held in his hands. “You got him to eat?” Sokka said, stomach fluttering.

Fat responded with a single nod. “Zuko was always a dutiful student,” he said. “You’ll be staying with him a while?”

When Sokka nodded Fat rose to his feet. “He’ll rally,” Fat said, voice affectionately stern. “Food, rest, warmth. It will go a long way.” Sokka wasn’t sure if Fat actually believed that or if he, if all of them, were trying to will something into existence, trying to project onto Zuko a strength that wasn’t there.

The only light in the room came from candles and the fire. Maroon curtains were open but it was only black outside, moonless. Shadows danced on Zuko’s face as he lay still and quiet, dressed now in loose pajamas. He looked comfortable at least. Lying on his side, wrapped in a thick, red blanket, with only his head and his toes poking out.

He’d be lost without that blanket, Sokka thought. The red was the only color in the room.

Sokka hesitated for only a moment before kicking off his own boots and settling himself down on the bed, his empty arms reaching, wrapping around the boy in the red blanket. His leg too, so desperate for touch. And maybe Zuko needed it, because he nuzzled forward, pushing his nose into Sokka’s cheek, his hands into Sokka’s chest. Even his feet shifted until the soul of his left foot was somehow pressed into Sokka’s right ankle.

They'd never gotten to touch like this, not really, during the strange flirtation they’d had since returning from Boiling Rock. Everything was stolen glances, lingering conversations, arms pressed together even though they didn’t have to be. A lingering hug. Everything fleeting. Everything discreet. Like it was half real and half a dream.

One stolen kiss. Arms shaking. Lips frantic. In the misting rain.

Now Sokka was living a nightmare. Zuko smelt like sweat and leather. His arms still shook from the memory of holding Zuko while Appa flew, Zuko’s body cold and trembling. The longest Sokka’d ever been able to hold him, and it was because he was dying.

But he wasn’t dead.Zuko was warmer than he’d felt in days.

“You’re going to be alright,” Sokka said, even though he didn’t believe it. But maybe Fat had it right. Maybe it was best to pretend Zuko was strong, even if it was a fiction. Maybe it’d be true if they lied. If Zuko believed them.

Sokka took a deep breath as it let his eyes close, holding Zuko as closely as he could.

[heyyallitssatan]

How I think poly bakusquad reacts when they’re really tired

Bakugou: he is grumpy, I mean so very grumpy, but he’s a lot quieter about it than he usually is, but once you cross over into sleepy territory is so adorably pouty to all of his partners and whines at them until they lay down

Kirishima: he’s honestly really snippy when he’s tired, but then he feels really bad about being snippy and he’ll apologise profusely, there have been tears and it broke all of their hearts, sleepy is just him draping himself across his partners

Kaminari: he just spider monkeys to people, activates cling mode and she is stuck to her partners until they go to bed, or they fall asleep right where they are, sleepy is the same, she really has two modes: awake and asleep, but all the electricity keeps it from happening too much

Mina: she slow fidgets, just twirling her fingers in hair and shirts, she’s also cuddly, so it’s definitely not her shirt and hair she’s playing with, sleepy is just cute little head bobs when twilling turns into gripping (lightly)

Sero: they gets so dramatic, like, throwing themself on their partners and lamenting about how tired they are, for them sleepy is laying their head on their partner and whining occasionally

Jirou: they’ll start humming to themself, tapping out beats on their arms and thighs, and they generally stop talking a lot, responding in nods and head shakes, but honestly, they don’t ever really cross into the sleepy threshold given how light of a sleeper they are

Shinsou: flops, he just flops on his partners, he does not move, and invokes the sleeping cat clause

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Matt in a hoodie Matt in a hoodie Matt in a hoodie with the hood up chewing his lip hanging his head licking his lips fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off FUCK OFFF 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[ndostairlyrium]

D2 for the art meme thingy. For Fenris and Hawke cause I think they deserve some non angsty cuddles.

(I LOVE YOUR ART)

since you're going, bring him some veggie meatballs! Those are clearly superior u-u

(Thank you so much omg ;; you're a sweetheart!!)

The Meme

[abellyfulloffriends]

If you need to use my belly as a safe place to scream and cry out, to take a break, or to just punch and release some anger my stomach was made for it, I promise you can’t hurt me, and my tummy won’t judge.

And when you’re feeling better you can rest, nestled in my core, let me take your pain away.

[stargirl-evie]

version where Keefe agrees to stay in Jolies old room after Edaline offers. His eyes get misty when Sophie and her mom walk him in and help him get settled. He cries a little when they leave to let him change and get comfortable. He comes out in these human pajama pants and a black t-shirt and Sophie decides to focus on that and not his slightly red and puffy eyes.

They sit in the couch and Edaline brings them something sweet and a few more bottles of youth. Grady watches from the kitchen with soft, sad eyes.

He thanks her parents and apologizes for all the trouble he’s causing and they wave it away. They say things about how it’s not a problem and that they’re just happy he’s safe and back. He gets a little misty eyed again. After food and only slightly awkward silence, Grady mentions that they should definitely try to sleep. It’s late, and it’ll be easier to talk after some rest.

They go upstairs together and Sophie pushes past her anxiety and grabs his hand as they walk. Neither of them say anything, but he hugs her at the top of the stairs.

She wonders if it’s her awareness of his feelings for her, or if it’s her mutual ones, but she can’t find it in herself to be mad at him. Not when his face is buried in between her neck and shoulder, not when he holds her like he’s trying to make up for everything that happened, not when he stands in front of her looking like a boy. It hits her again that he’s not much older than her, and he’s still incredibly young be elven standards.

She’s sure she’ll be mad again in the morning, or even later tonight, but for now this quite comfort works. She is beyond relieved he’s home with her.

She walks with him to his room. She stands beside him as he gets in the bed and she flicks of the lights for him when she goes to leave.

He calls her. Asks her to stay. She immediately agrees.

She runs downstairs to tell her parents, her dad looks like he’s about to start a very uncomfortable lecture, but her mom cuts in after meeting her eyes and tells her she thinks it’s a great idea.

She runs back to her room to grab some pillows, Ella, and another blanket.

Keefe watches her walk into the room. He’s still laying where she left him, it makes her slightly less worried. His eyes are big, almost childish, and again she can’t help but think he’s just a boy. And he doesn’t deserve to feel like this. She’s mad, but not at him.

He stops her from setting up a spot on the floor near the bed. She’s confused. They fuss about it for a minute before he pulls back the blanket and just says, “please”.

She caves and brings herself to lie down next to him. He’s close, they can feel the heat off each other, and for the first time she’s glad he can’t sense her emotions as much.

They stay like that for a while, on their backs with their respected stuffed animals in their arms. It’s dark, her parents have gone to bed, and they’re both ignoring the quite sniffles coming from both sides of the bed.

After what seems like forever he rolls over to look at her. She turns her head to meet his eyes. “Turn that way” she says, and he does what she asks without question.

Carefully she turns toward his back. She’s anxious again, but confident that this is something they need. She places Ella behind her back and tentatively wraps her arms around Keefes waist.

He tenses for a bit, then let’s out a quite sob. He shakes in her hold for a while, but he never lets go of the grip on her hands.

When he does calm down, he brings their intertwined fingers up, and he presses the back of her hand to his face.

She can’t really call it a kiss, per say, but his skin is warm and his lips are definitely against her skin. She buries her face in his back, and their legs tangle below the fluffy comforter.

They sleep, after days of nightmares and restlessness, they sleep. It’s long, it’s not enough, but it’s peaceful because neither one of them dreams.

The next day will be hard, it’ll be full of hurt and tears and words that are going to sting, but right now, right now and everything that will happen after, it makes it all worth it.