#so he’s particularly protective of kids and their fragility.

[hylianane]

Forever obsessed with Oda’s decision to make one of Zoro’s core, most important characteristic being his softness when it comes to children.

I don’t just mean taking care of Chopper, all Strawhats take care of Chopper like a little brother, but it’s in the way Zoro’s literal character introduction has Rika be the person to highlight his humanity, who defends his honor and calls him her brother, and who he eats muddy, sugary rice off the ground to make happy. and it’s in the way little kids like Toko are always the ones to see through his tough exterior and cling to him as a protector, calling him nice and telling him jokes and feeling save enough to cuddle with him. He’s a certified softie. A mother hen.

So much so that those Water 7 orphans took a SINGLE look at him and decided to drag him kicking and screaming into their found family so he could take care of the infants and babies- which the episode highlights, he turned out to be genuinely good at. And honestly? If he didn’t have a found family already? They might have succeeded.

[kotemf]

If soldier, why so buir shaped?

  Fox was never particularly fond of cadets.

  During their training on Kamino, they were sometimes assigned to watch younger troopers and train with them. Fox hated those training sessions. Cadets were... they were tiny. Fragile. Fox always spend the session in fear of breaking their little bones. The cadets for their part were usually afraid of Fox. Fox didn't really know why. It certainly wasn't his face, the cadets liked the rest of his batchmates just fine and they loved Cody and Wolffe.

  Nat-born children tended to fear the clones, even if the Coruscant guard was there to help them, to protect them. They all learned not to take it personally, the armor probably did look rather intimidating to normal people and there were also loads of anti-war propaganda that usually antagonized clones because they were the ones who were fighting, it didn't matter to them that they only fought because they had to.

  So yes, Fox was quite surprised when a random Zabrak child ran up to him, hugged him and refused to let go. He looked around. There were no anxious parents looking for a lost kid.

  "Hey, what are you doing here all alone?" Fox tried his best to not look like a big, scary clone commander. He could tell his efforts weren't successful. In his defense, appear non-threatening in a full set of armor and a blaster strapped to your thigh was a pretty difficult task. The child didn't look scared of him, though. Quite the opposite.

  They didn't answer.

  "What's your name?" Fox tried instead. He wasn't good at guessing people's age but this child was at least five standard years old. Five years old nat-borns were old enough to know their name, right?

  The child muttered something Fox didn't quite catch.

  "Can you say it louder?"

  "I don't have a name."

  "You don't?" Now that was a situation Fox wasn't prepared for. As far as he knew, nat-borns were supposed to have names. According to everything he's ever read about nat-borns, parents usually named their child whie they were still a baby. They weren't like clones, who had to wait for when their batchmates picked them a name, usually based on something they did or something they liked.

  The little Zabrak nodded. After taking a closer look, Fox guessed they were most likely male but he wasn't certain.

  "Where are your parents?"

  "I don't know."

  "Alright. I will take you to my office now and we will find them."

  "No! I'm not supposed to find them."

  "What do you mean?" Nat-born children were supposed to love their parents, or at least Fox has always thought that. Because why wouldn't they? Nat-born parents weren't like the Kaminoans, emotionless and only caring about perfection. They weren't like the trainers, only trying to get the best results out of their trainees no matter what it cost. They weren't a genetic template who only wanted one son and money and didn't care about anyone else. No, parents were an entirely different thing. They loved their children, they protected their children and they provided for them. So why exactly wouldn't this nameless kid be supposed to find their parents?

  The child shrugged. "They left me here and told me not to follow them."

  Alright, that was weird. It almost sounded as if these parents wanted to get rid of their kid so they just left him alone on a random place on Coruscant? "Do you like your parents?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "They are mean."

  So apparently parents could be mean. Fox supposed he was going to have to work with that. "And why did you come to me?"

  "Because you feel kind."

  "What?"

  "You feel kind," the kid repeated themselves. Fox had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

  "Okay. Now we will go to my office and get you something to eat, what do you say?" Fox hoped he was doing this right. He had no idea how to talk to children.

  "Okay."

  Bringing a child into the Coruscant Guard's headquarters was a big deal, apparently. Fox didn't do anything more than sit the kid in his office and give him a glass of water and some of the priced treats Fox sometimes got from the nicer senators that he liked to give shinies and his comrades in particularly bad situations. The only other food available were ration bars and that was no food for a child.

  Not that the kid was in need. Ever since Fox brought him in, troopers have been coming into his office, bringing the child treats that Fox didn't really know where they got from, makeshift toys or just to take a look.

  "Aww, he's so tiny!" Thire cooed upon seeing the kid.

  "Told you he's a cute little thing."

  "Shut up, Thorn. It's not my fault I had senate duty and couldn't come to look at him sooner."

  Fox made a show of covering the kids ears. 'Shut up' wasn't by far the worst thing that the troopers said and Fox usually didn't mind but there was a child in the room!

  "I never would have guessed that marshal commander I have a stick up my ass Fox would become such a buir." Thorn grinned at him. He seriously had to stop swearing around the child or else. And Fox shouls also probably get rightfully offended to save his reputation of having, as Thorn put it, a stick up his ass.

  "So that's how you address your commanding officers?"

  "Apparently."

  "You know, senator Clovis requested a bodyguard to accompany him to a meeting with banking clan..."

  "No. Not Clovis. Please. I beg you." Thorn seemed terrified. Any trooper would. Senator Clovis was always rather awful to clones and he was so suspicious the Corries had a betting pool on when he openly defected to the Seppies. 

  "Maybe if you will kindly stop swearing in front of a child, I might consider looking further, even if you certainly have all the required skills."

  "Yeah, sure. Anything. Just not Clovis."

  Fox decided to take that as a promise. The kid didn't seem to get what was going on but he wasn't complaining. A darling really.

  It was a few hours later that the boy started to get bored. Fox tried entertaining him with a holo movie but that didn't work, the child felt the need to share what was going on the screen every minute or so. So Fox downloaded him a video game. That seemed to work. Until now.

  "Do you really have to work?"

  "Yes."

  "Why do you have to work so much?"

  "Because I have things that need to be done and I have a certain amount of time for each of them. Like this form that I'm filling right now, this one needs to be done today," Fox did his best to explain. In his humble opinion, he was getting pretty good at answering the kid's curious questions.

  "Oh... Okay. And will you play with me when you're done?"

  "I will have some more work then but we can play when I'm done, okay?"

  "Okay."

  The kid was clearly trying to be quiet. He wasn't very good at it. He was either kicking into Fox's desk, opening random drawers and then always sighing in disappointment when there was nothing but stacks of paper work, or quietly humming to himself. It was distracting but Fox let it slide. He remembered how difficult it was for him and his batchmates to stay silent when they were cadets. The only thing keeping them quiet was their fear of the Kaminoans and the trainers and he didn't want this sweet little thing to ever experience something like that.

  "Fox?"

  "Yes, kiddo?"

  "Will you get angry if I make things float?"

  "What?"

  "If I make things float," the boy repeated himself.

  Fox wondered for a bit if floating had any other meaning than, well, floating. He didn't think of anything so he just assumed it was some kind of a game. "Of course I won't get angry."

  The child beamed at him. Then the boy reached out with his hand and made the data pad Fox borrowed him float.

  And that's how the Coruscant Guard got their Jedi.

[spdrvyn]

tearful territory

miguel and a sensitive, tearful reader. you try to overcome the obstacle that is sobbing and crying whenever you're confronted by your ever stern and stoic boss, but your habit gets the best of you. no matter how hard you try to hide it.

hurt/comfort. miguel is bad with feelings. reader is bad with regulating their feelings. bad feeling and bad feeling regulation everywhere! thank you for this ask, anon <3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You've been labeled as the family crybaby for as long as you could remember, so when you moved out, you'd figured that the habit of tearing up over even the tiniest of inconveniences would evade you. After all, you were now a hardened vigilante, beating up bad guys, saving a bunch of people should have gotten you tough skin. 

Wrong! While you have obviously improved and it hasn't been as bad as when you were still a kid, the tears that found themselves home in your eyes were now just protected by a mask, a symbol of your heroic deeds that hides the weak, meek, and fragile person beneath it. 

As you got recruited into Spider Society though, your mask was on more than half of the time. Even when eating, you only had it half-lifted just in case push came to shove.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. More than. But you'd rather bare the strange looks of people passing by you rather than have a full cafeteria of spiders witness you cry. You certainly didn't need to be labeled as Spider Society crybaby too, making work arounds for your habit was working for you now anyway.

Unfortunately, the universe is cruel. Oh-so cruel. 

You were a relatively new addition to the Spider Society which means that the head honcho had been doting on you for a while now, doting was a strong word, but he'd call you into his office to give you feedback on your performance in missions so far.

Completely fine, besides most of the reports had been positive. Though, the thing about Miguel is that he's actually an uplifting boss when he can be. Which means he always gave you advice, tips to help you get better next time, and pointed out your mistakes from each mission. 

Again, completely fine! You were okay with criticism, more than okay with it. But that lump that formed in your throat, the warmth that crept into your face, it functioned like clockwork. So you've just resorted to keeping your mask on whenever you had a meeting with him too, problem solved. 

Another thing you didn't know about Miguel though was despite his lack of a sixth, spider-like sense, he'd a habit of his own. To be an observer, to pick up on the small details of the people he worked with. Even if he only saw them by mere chance, only passing by some in the multiple hallways of headquarters on occasion. 

It wasn't rocket science, even if Miguel did know rocket science, to figure out that you had an... issue with dealing with the slightest forms of rejection. Aside from the obvious hint that you were always masked around him, he also noticed that you were radio silent for most of the meetings, only interjecting with quiet 'mhm's and 'okay's. 

You were so quiet around him that it almost made him seem chatty. Miguel. Chatty. Those two words could not be in the same sentence, yet you made it possible. 

He didn't want to force you to take your mask off, the end goal wasn't to see you cry, but after a few months of having literal one-on-one meetings with him, he hadn't really sparked any form of connection with you. 

This time when you were called in, you two went through the ropes per usual. It didn't seem like you noticed Miguel's (un)conscious efforts to soften his tone, to relax his shoulders, and to not look completely stone-faced when talking to you. 

Miguel wasn't particularly used to this, has he had people cry in front of him? More than too many times, but never had he seen your case before. It made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours, to care so much about his input that you'd hide shedding even a single tear in front of him. 

The approach to the end of the meeting was steadfast, but before he let himself dismiss you. He asked, "Why do you always keep your mask on?" 

He knew fully well the reason why, but to hear it come from your mouth, would make it even more worthy of an answer. 

But the thing is that you don't answer him. It's the awkwardest moment of his life, he thinks. Two of you just standing there, his brows knit together in confusion and he's about to repeat his question or ask if you heard him until the smallest of squeaks ring in his ears and now you're turning your head away and clasping a hand over your mouth to conceal your noises. 

He followed in your direction, but he can't even see your face. Your shoulders shook as your fingers sloppily pulled your mask up so that you could furiously swipe at the tears that streamed down from your eye. You bit at your lip so hard to silence yourself to the point where you could be crying about how you're about to draw blood simply from the force of it. 

Miguel hadn't said anything, you couldn't see him either. How could you? You literally just broke down crying in front of him, there's no way you could ever show your face again here. 

You want to say something, you tried to at least. But all you get out is a choked, "Sorry, I'm-- Sorry." To which you don't even get a response to, but you can feel it. That thousand yard, judgemental stare that you always get for reacting like this. 

Which only caused you to get more shaken up when Miguel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which he uses to manuever you closer to him and to let him see your tear-struck face. Your first instinct to cower, you want to bring your hands to your face and peel your skin off like a banana peel, but Miguel doesn't let you.

In his other hand is a tissue to when he tenderly presses just below your eyes to wipe at the wetness, that hand on your shoulder moves to your chin and he lifts your face upward to get a good look at you. He doesn't look angry, rather concentrated. Locked in. 

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep it together, the onslaught of a really bad headache is rising over the horizon like it always does. Once Miguel's done, he discards of the tissue before he takes off your mask completely and sets it aside on his desk. The hand on your chin remains, a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other so your face looks a little smushed right now. A sight he'd like to appreciate if not for the circumstances. 

"So is this a common thing or?" The question almost seems a little unserious in nature, but that is mainly just the product of Miguel's awkwardness. He doesn't particularly do feelings, and he can't ask if you're okay because that might just lead to even more crying. 

Your voice is too dead to properly reply, you move your face in a half nod considering the grip he has on you. "And you've been wearing your mask because you don't want me to see?" He asks again, you nod more bashedly. 

A thin hum of understanding is all you can hear for him and he lets go of your face, but you can't hide anymore. Your mask is somewhere on his desk, it's managed to disappear among the slight mess that there is. It's awkward again, no words coming from either of you until–

"You're dismissed. Come back tomorrow." What? That's it? You put on this embarrassing display, you bawled in front of him, and he's letting you go? No lecture about how you need to be stronger of anything? 

The thought chases you in your dreams later on in the night. You found it hard to fall asleep that you swore you saw the sun peeking through the blinds once you were mentally fatigued enough to succumb to your exhaustion, you groggily swung over to Miguel's lab, your grip on your webs were too loose for your own safety but you managed to get over to him without any incidents. 

However, once his platform comes to a clicking halt, Miguel's back is turned to you. You notice that he wears a long sleeved turtleneck over his spider suit, a combination of articles you haven't seen on him before. 

The screen he was paying attention to turns off as he picks up a coffee cup on his right hand side and he holds it up to you, "It's colder out today." 

Whether that's to answer for the coffee or the drip, you don't mind. Silently taking the beverage, it brings warmth to your hand and you assume that it's freshly brewed considering the steam that comforts your cold cheeks. Miguel's attempt at small talk, despite how awkward, makes you feel a bit better. 

Maybe you needed this. This kind of one-on-one meeting. It's clear that he came to that same conclusion too, but for now, you'll enjoy your coffee, sit in the decreasingly uncomfortable silence, and look forward to the days you won't cry as much anymore.

[francixoxoxo]

˚✧ ₊Something ˚. ʚ

Billy the Kid x Reader

You’re pregnant with Billy’s baby, and it’s taking a bit of a toll on you. You have a breakdown, and Billy soothes you.

TW: reader is pregnant, weight insecurity, mentions of miscarriage

Basically pure angst and comfort, sorryyyyy (not sorry)

It was times like these that you wished God made you a man.

Not to say you weren’t in awe of yourself. You were carrying a human life— wasn’t that something? Your mother was insistent on specific teas and herbs to help the baby. Your friends were giddy with excitement, you being the first of them all to have a baby. Your husband? You didn’t think Billy could be more protective than if he locked you in a safe.

He argued his way into plenty of late-start workdays to take care of you when you felt sick. He was wary of you going out on particularly hot days, as if you’d melt. When he was with you, in public or not, he tucked you to his side and kept an iron grip on you. You were his sweetest girl, and now that you were pregnant? Oh, if he could hide you from every danger, he would. He certainly tried.

But Billy couldn’t keep you from every difficulty that came with pregnancy. He held your hair back from your face as you vomited, but he couldn’t keep your food down for you. He’d rub your feet before you fixed your lips to ask, as if to make up for not being able to carry you everywhere you needed.

“M’ sorry.” Billy cooed to you as you laid in bed one night, gently rubbing that spot in your hip you’d admitted was hurting. You shook your head, the dim moonlight filtering through the window gratefully letting him see your soft smile.

“Not your fault.” You murmured, nose-to-nose with him, your eyes flicking twixt his concerned blue ones. You couldn’t have found a better man’s baby to have.

Billy shook his head gently but with an adamant and dark expression. He pet some hair back from your face. “Well, I did this t’you, didn’t I?”

Your eyes smiled with your lips at his words. “And I’m glad you did.” You couldn’t resist moving in closer, your nose burying into his chest. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you to hold you close to him. Calloused fingertips lightly trailed along your ribs, you felt the faintest touch of his lips to your hairline.

It wasn’t a lie. You were happy to be a mother, really.

But that happiness tended to subside when you passed a mirror. Oh, you’d gained so much. You mentioned it once to Billy, but he shut it down quickly by assuring you how beautiful he found you. His words had stuck with you for perhaps a day before the self-hatred seeped in again.

Or when Billy came home late, a bassinet or a changing table in tow, grinning ear-to-ear, and you wouldn’t dare to but wanted to yell what a waste it would end up being. Self-hatred wasn’t simply for what was on the surface— you were certain your body would fail you, and more importantly that it would let down Billy. But you hadn’t dared breathe a word to him. Not when he smiled so brightly as he looked over his shoulder at you, setting the wooden cradle down in the small room dedicated as the nursery.

Billy had begged you to not go on horseback rides anymore, now that you were (according to him) fragile. You assured him you wouldn’t, soothing his already high-strung nerves over you.

Yet here you were, galloping about as fast as your horse could dash without his heart bursting a gasket. Tears were already stinging your eyes, the wind whipping your hair behind you. You were riding so furiously that you were standing on the stirrups, bent over and gripping the reins like a professional jockey.

Your mind was just swimming. You were seven months along by now, and you never felt worse. Perhaps it was just a day, or a week, or a month— but you couldn’t bottle it up. Billy wasn’t home, and you supposed it would be better to empty your rotten feelings in an empty field than onto your poor lover’s lap. Your heart clenched at the thought of what he’d say. Oh, you’d break his heart, surely.

And you weren’t keen on hurting Billy, not when he was the one thing holding you together. The thought of him now reminded you to breathe, you hadn’t realized the burn in your lungs. You even dared taking your hand off the reins to wipe the hot tears off your cheeks.

Eventually you found your spot. It’d been so long since you came here, just the sight of the sun-warmed rocks poking out from the river made your heart lighten. You tied your horse to a tree, discarding your boots at its roots. The grass was pleasantly warm under your bare feet, your eyes trained on the wildflowers blooming as the earth sloped down slightly to the riverbank. Here, tears slipped from you like nothing. You sank into the long grass, laying back and letting the fronds tickle the skin your chemise exposed.

If the river overflowed from the buckets of tears you cried, you would hardly be surprised. The breath was utterly stolen from your lungs as you wept, a hand over your heart and consequently the increased swell of your breast. Just the subtle reminder of the way your body had changed made you bawl harder. Oh, how you wanted it off you! You wanted it all to stop, for it all to go away. But that desperate want washed guilt over you.

How could you want your baby gone?

You didn’t! You didn’t, you told yourself, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t ebb. You loved this baby before you’d even met it. And now that fear was clawing at your heart again, threatening to rip it into strings, the fear that you never would meet it.

Perhaps it was your weeping that drew Billy to that creek, perhaps it pierced through to his heart like an arrow all the way from home. He hardly took a peek around your quaint house before hopping back on his horse. And at the perfect moment, when you thought you simply couldn’t bear such heavy feelings any longer, you heard the sound of boots on grass.

You lifted your head, catching your breath and peering over the overgrown, tall blades of glass to see Billy’s face looking back down at you. Wasn’t he the image of an angel? He immediately sunk to his knees beside you, that angelic face screwed up in concern as he cooed, “Oh, baby, my baby.. Hush, don’t cry, hon..”

Something about Billy’s strong arms practically scooping you up to lean against his broad chest had you sobbing mightily. You turned your cheek into him, wetting his work shirt and smelling deeply his musk, tinged with sweat. The low timbre of his voice willing you to calm down had mixed effects. In certain ways you felt safe. As though everything was suddenly all-right. And in other ways, you felt so unbelievably helpless.

Frankly? It terrified Billy. He clutched you tight, running his calloused palms up and down your arms, over the rise of your belly, stroking your wet cheeks. He can’t remember a time he’s seen you so distressed. It feels like years until your sobs delve into soft, shudders gasps and sighs, the skin ‘round your eyes rubbed raw. You’ve stopped trying to wipe the tears away, but Billy’s taken up the job, diligently swiping the wetness away from your pretty eyes and cheeks with his thumb.

after you calmed, you croaked a soft, “Sorry.” Billy shook his head adamantly, knitting his brows.

“Don’t apologize, baby. You ain’t done anything wrong.” He cooed gently, wrapping his arms around your front and pulling you even closer to his chest. Your heart was weary, your stomach heavy. But Billy made it all just a bit better. You could feel more than see his blue eyes flicking between your face and your belly. “What’s wrong?”

You pressed your lips nervously. You let your gaze fall on the running brook, the quiet rushing of water over rock soothing. Billy’s roughened hand came to lay over yours on your lap, giving to the strength to admit, “I’m miserable.”

Billy paused in nearly every way. You thought that his heart stopped a beat, and you were certain his breath hitched. “What d’you mean?” He squeezed your hand.

“I..” You caught yourself on the verge of admitting your darkest fear, silently reprimanding yourself and deciding to admit the less painful one. “I look so different. Not in a good way.. I’m so much fatter, Billy.” Your voice wavered as you spoke; even if it was vain, or the least of your problems, it still weighed on you. It still hurt.

“Oh, baby..” Billy sighed, nosing your hair and shaking his head a bit. “You aren’t fat. You’re so, so goddamn beautiful.”

Your lips pulled, threatening to part in a sob before you swallowed it down. Tears came back to your eyes. Why couldn’t you believe his words? “I’m not. Look at me! I’m a planet. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me.” Your voice cracked, much to your embarrassment. Your hands went to cover your eyes but Billy gently pulled them away. He tilted your chin to meet your eyes, his own peering at you like you were mad, or some poor creature. As if you’d offended him by talking so poorly about yourself.

Billy murmured your name and shook his head adamantly again. “You’re carryin’ a baby. My baby. A damn life.” He paused, eyes silently flicking twixt yours for a moment, trying to see if his words were sinking in. “Maybe your body’s a little different, but I think you look perfect. Might even be more attracted t’you, if that’s possible.” Billy cooed, his voice somehow gentle and firm at once. A smirk crept across his face at that last bit, only growing upon seeing your slight smile.

But his expression became concerned and serious again after a moment, he furrowed his brows. “Don’t talk bad ‘bout my girl like that, baby. You’re just as gorgeous as ever. Frankly, I like that you’re a little softer now. Just a little more of you t’hold.” Billy went on until your faint smile broadened, tightening his arms around you as he worked a blush out of you.

The insecurity didn’t leave you, but his words were enough to wash out the self-hatred. If Billy loved you, surely you could too. The way he was looking at you right now honestly had you believing he thought you an angel. Because he did, in every way. “Th-thank you..” You mumbled after a while, wiping your eyes and grimacing, nuzzling your cheek further against his chest. His warm, calloused palm rubbed up and down your arm. “I love you.”

“I love you more n’ anything.” Billy said it like it was the easiest thing. As if he was born knowing it, and you should’ve understood by now. Yet still, it eluded you just how he could adore you so much. Perhaps he could see that haze in your eyes as you averted your gaze to the grass, thinking on that. Would he still love you if your body killed his baby? Never mind the fact that it was your baby as well— it was Billy’s too, and he was so, so excited for it.. How would you live with yourself if Billy’s baby died?

“But that’s not the only thing, is it?” Billy murmured, snapping you out of your thoughts. When you looked up at him, you realized tears blurred his face. He wiped them away as you blinked them onto your cheeks.

You couldn’t keep a thing from him, not now. You shook your head, feeling a rock lodge in your throat when you opened your mouth to speak. He squeezed your arm gently, furrowing his brows and kissing your temple as reassurance. “Y’don’t have to—“

“—I’m afraid that I’ll kill the baby.”

Billy’s eyes went buggy, and that rock in your throat settled into your stomach. Your word lingered in the air for a few agonizingly long, painful moments, before your lover nodded slightly, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re scared you’ll miscarry.” He rephrased, voice soft and subtly curious.

Tears flowed now like your body was dispelling every emotion it had ever experienced. Billy pulled you to him tighter, cooing soft words to you. “Hush, baby. You’re okay. You ain’t.. You’re healthy as a horse, sweetheart. What put that into your head?”

You’d been right. Your words broke his heart.

Your words came twixt sobs and needy gulps of air. “M-my momma— lost three, n’— Oh, I’m scared that—“ You were driving yourself hysterical. Billy hushed you, a hand on the back of your head pulling your face to his heartbeat. His lips were glued to your hair. “I know, baby, I know. I know.”

Oh, it felt like years ‘till you cried all the tears your eyes could make. You weren’t sure when Billy had pulled you more into his lap, your head tucked into his neck, his hand rubbing up and down your ribs while the other laid over your belly. He could feel subtle kicks now and then, but his heart was too heavy from seeing you so distraught that he couldn’t find it in him to be giddy at the feeling.

The fronds of long grass ticked your legs and bare feet, the sound of rushing water and Billy’s soothing voice filling your ears. “I feel like I’ll fail you.” You admitted softly, letting your eyes flutter closed as he smoothed a hand over your hair.

“Impossible.” Billy dismissed, his voice a firm murmur into your hair. “It wouldn’t happen. I won’t let y’entertain the idea.” His brows were pulled into a taught furrow, he blinked away the stinging in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be your fault.” He added. You nodded a bit, grimacing.

Whether it was the exhilarating lightness of simply having it off your chest or Billy’s loving assurance, your mind felt less murky. You felt ten tons lighter, tucked safely in your lovers arm, your skin tickled by warm grass and your eyes closed after a long bawl. “I’m sorry for all this fuss.” You mumble.

Billy pressed his slightly chapped lips to your hairline, his own eyes shutting. His stubble scratching your brow was a welcome reminder of his omnipresence. “Nothin’ to apologize for.”

The silence lingered a moment before you broke it again. “You’re my rock. Did I ever tell you that?” You lifted your face, craning your neck to look up at Billy. He was smiling sweetly, his lips just barely pulled over his teeth. His hand that wasn’t busy rubbing your belly was finding its way into your hair.

“You never had to.” Billy shook his head. his eyes dropped to your lips, which had found their way into a smile to mirror his, much to his delight. He pressed a kiss to them, relishing in your soft exhale. You hoped that he understood all your emotions as you out them into this kiss, all the love, the anguish, the appreciation.

He most definitely understood it all.

Billy held you for a long while after, in that sun-warmed clearing. Somehow you both came to lay in the grass on your backs, hands clasped in the gap twixt you. You stared up at the few clouds adorning the bright sky. Billy stared at you, bringing your clasped hands to your belly and flipping his to lay beside yours on the large expanse of it. His thumb brushed over the bump through the thin linen of your chemise.

Billy shook his head, smiling in that sweet way of his again and meeting your gaze. His own azure eyes glimmered with a kind of joy that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

“You’ll be a good mother.” He whispered, as if the brook wasn’t empty save for you two. “And you’re gonna make me a father, sweet thing.” Those words were breathed with reverence. Billy was simply in awe of you; of what your body was capable of. Of your soul, and your heart. Your sheer beauty, in every curve and edge. He made it clear to you with every move he made and every word he uttered. You couldn’t help a smile spreading over your cheeks, your swollen eyes turning into crescents along with your lips.

“I’m glad it’s you.” Your words were just as quiet and hushed as his. And they needed no explanation. Billy never needed one to understand you.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Heavy Home

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. Dabi has never been good with people, with controlling his emotions, or controlling his quirk, and all of those things have put him in a lot of danger throughout his life. He doesn't think that it's all that surprising that he ends up feeling like the entire world may crash in on him or that he might ignite when he gets stressed out by those things. He just didn't know that there was a way to feel better when that was happening. Shigaraki takes one look at him when he's spinning out and shows him how he can. 

Contents: panic attacks, hurt/comfort, protective!Shigaraki, cuddling, soft sex, praise kink, frottage, cumming in pants, multiple orgasms, anal fingering, anal sex, anal cockwarming, creampie, overstimulation

Word Count: 7969

Dabi is never going to say that he's ever been good with people. When he was a kid he was 'off-putting' to other kids. Even though he was friendly when he was little, when he started to go wrong, his intensity and obsession with getting back into his father's good graces, and the viciousness through which he tried to hide how badly it hurt that he was cast aside, made him disconcerting to be around. Natsuo was the only one who could stand him without fail, though it was his cruelty to Fuyumi that soured that particular well. Still, he wasn't good with other people when he was a child, and waking up from a coma to find he had been completely cast aside, did not help that condition in the slightest. Then he'd been on the streets and the lack of social skills, feeling like a child in a body that didn't belong to him, having people constantly trying to hurt or take advantage of him-- it all piled up. He had to learn how to survive. 

That resulted in Dabi making himself dangerous. He made his scars worse by reopening them all the time as he took on criminal work to show that he was powerful and not someone to be fucked with. He got piercings on top of his staples, he dyed his hair black, he switched to leather clothes so that he would look tougher and not have to worry about picking melted polyester out of his skin. He made himself  'Dabi' in more than just name to ensure that he wouldn't get destroyed before he could become the ghost he had vowed to be at his altar. 

The problem is that doing all of that hadn't made him less scared, less small, less fragile, when he already always felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind and control of his quirk again. He wonders how many other people know the unique and intimate terror of knowing every second of every day that one slip in their concentration could mean their quirk rebelling and killing them. He doubts that many could. He just knows that it's something that is always sitting at the edge of his awareness, and he knows that his fight or flight leans so heavily towards 'fight' in an effort to keep him alive, making it even more likely that he's going to lose control again ahead of schedule. 

He tries to hide those fears and doubts, tries not to make himself a target for threats or violence, if only to keep his skin on his fucking body. And he hides all of it through a blasé attitude, thuggish drawl, and seeming disinterest in everything going on around him. He gets very good at faking all of that to hide the constant riot of emotions that is surging through him at nearly all hours of the day. Dabi thinks he's done a particularly good job of hiding those emotions when he goes to meet the League of Villains. He thinks he's done a very good job when it's Shigaraki who lunges for him, and not the other way around. At least this way, he knows that the other man is focusing on his anger and Dabi can pretend he isn't nearly bouncing his foot as he realizes this is a big step for him. He's been biding his time in the shadows for so long, coming out of them and throwing his lot in with the League could destroy him before he even gets a chance to see his father again. But he does it anyway, and despite almost coming to blows, he is accepted into the group. 

He really thought that maybe he would calm down a bit after that. 

///

The problem is, that no matter how much he plays it cool around the others, he is constantly on edge. He doesn't know the right things to say to keep people from getting aggressive with him, he can't talk about himself out of fear of giving anyone any clues about exactly who he really is, and he is constantly trying to sound dumber than he is. He doesn't think he does a good job with the last one, because despite the rough start with Shigaraki, he is put in charge of the summer camp job. Though, that may be a good thing, because he is very invested in making sure that he does everything he can to ensure if he sees Shoto, his identity isn't immediately revealed. But that, he thinks, is only making his anxiety higher and higher. 

It's especially bad on training days. The training facility that Kurogiri sends them to is somewhere deep underground, a large white room, maybe the size of a baseball diamond, with thirty foot high ceilings, a viewing window off to one side where the monster maker and Shigaraki typically observe from, and the ability to be dressed up as different settings so that they can practice trying to use their quirks in 'open, outdoor environments' without actually drawing attention to themselves. It's good for the others, Magne learning how much of a direct line of sight she needs on someone to properly magnetize them, Toga is figuring out how to move through the trees and throw around her needles, things like that. Dabi is mostly wandering around, tossing Velcro balls at people when they get distracted, mimicking the way they are likely to get hurt if they aren't paying attention when moving through the forest with his flames licking all around them. But he doesn't use his quirk during this training session. Not only is it dangerous given they are in an underground enclosed area, but it also wouldn't be safe with his seams. He doesn't want to burn himself out before they even get to the camp, so he is mostly keeping an eye on things, acting as a fake hazard, and learning what he can about the others. 

He learns very quickly that Muscular is a piece of fucking work.

"This is bullshit," the bigger man snarls, tearing three of the balls off of his clothes and stomping right over to Dabi. He tries to maintain his cool exterior, but he can't help the fact that his temperature is creeping higher as the other man gets right into his face. "I can feel fire before I get close to it." He shoves the balls into Dabi's chest, pushing hard enough that it puts just the wrong amount of strain against the edge of his seam and one of the staples pops free. He hides a wince as he starts to feel the empty holes beginning to bleed. Muscular's single eye drifts down to the bloom of blood and the sneer goes even more vicious. "Aw, is that the problem, pipsqueak? Are you too fragile to be any use in the field?" 

Dabi's pulse is thundering in his ears and he wants nothing more than to get away as fast as possible to treat the wound, not wanting to risk the bastard jamming his fingers into it and possibly giving him an infection. But what he actually does is take half a step back, lift one of the little balls, and bring flashfire to his hand. It burns hot and bright sharply for about half a second before it's reduced to ash, but it's so hot that Muscular rears back immediately with a sneer, activating his quirk to keep the worst of the heat away from his skin. It's not fast enough to avoid the flames drying out the skin on his face, not enough to give him first degree burns, but enough to make it turn a little pink with irritation. 

The sprinklers trigger as the smoke from his palm reaches the sensors in the ceiling, making Toga and Magne both squeal over their hair getting wet and Compress grumble about his suit. He's just grateful for them because the roar of the water means that it will be hard for anyone to hear it if his voice is trembling at all. "You may not have a chance to feel the heat before my flames come. You need to be aware of your surroundings if you don't want to get burned."

He is glad that a portal opens for them as Shigaraki's voice crackles through the speakers. "That's it for the day." The room will need to be reset and the others start to go through the portal without protest. He is a little slower behind the rest of them, trying to make his breathing even and slow the beat of his heart, but it feels impossible. 

The others aren't all staying at the bar, only he and Toga without somewhere else to go, and Kurogiri clearly sent the others back to their places of residence, because it's just he, Duster, and Dabi in the bar when he steps through, Toga's feet already moving up the rickety stairs. 

Dabi means to immediately follow her as Kurogiri steps through a portal of his own to go see to whatever AFO has him doing, but as he turns to leave, Shigaraki reaches out and catches his arm. He only uses four fingers, and the touch doesn't hurt, but it's entirely too much for him after Muscular got so into his space, and Dabi forces himself to clamp down as hard as he can on his quirk to keep from combusting and lighting up the entire bar. But that traps all of the heat inside of him and he feels his brain boil, his limbs all starting to tremble and his breath fills with embers as he tries to figure out how to fill his lungs around the flames, or if he should be trying to suffocate them away. 

"Dabi?" His hand drops his elbow and he feels like a child as he curls in on himself. His skin feels like it's going to catch, fuck, fuck, fuck--

All of the sudden, there is a solid weight on him, smothering his skin, held close to his body as he's grabbed again. Not just his arm this time, but around his shoulders and his waist. Dabi is pretty sure that should be the thing that sends his skin boiling, but instead he lets out a breath of smoke as Shigaraki... holds him. He's wrapped him with the ratty blanket from the back of the couch, used it to smother the heat pouring off of his skin, and he is holding him tightly against his body. That pressure, he thinks, should break him. The heat being reflected back in on him should make him ignite. But instead nearly all of his muscles go slack and Shigaraki is the only thing holding him up at that point. 

He lets out a gasp that is all smoke as he realizes, despite seeing how dangerous his quirk could be, Duster saw him losing control and got closer to make sure he didn't. 

///

Dabi is really out of it, he knew that the moment that Muscular got into his space and sent his nerves so high, but this is past that. He feels like he's hungover as he realizes that he's on the couch, or more specifically, he's in Shigaraki's lap on the couch. The other is still holding him tight, his chin resting on the top of Dabi's head, and holding him wrapped in the blanket. He blinks and starts to straighten up, 

"Fuck," His face burns, but it's with a blush this time, not his quirk. No, that feels pretty settled as he shifts in the other's lap. "Sorry, I--" 

"It's alright, Dabi." He doesn't know if he's ever heard Shigaraki's voice soft in the time they've known each other. "...Do you always have this kind of trouble with your quirk? Or is it just when you're having a panic attack?" 

"A what?" 

Duster blinks, his arms tightening a bit around him, and that look tells Dabi that's something that he should know, but might be something the coma and lack of education are messing with. 

"Whatever, I'm fine with my quirk, I can do my job." He insists.

"...Okay, but if you need anything else, we can help, Dabi."

Right, because so many people have been willing to help him before. He extracts himself from Shigaraki's hold and the blanket to go upstairs. He probably would have stolen a bottle of booze to annihilate his brain if the other man's eyes hadn't been following him the entire time as he was going. 

///

Shigaraki doesn't bring it up again, but after another couple of days, a package gets left for him outside of his door. Inside of it he finds a weighted blanket made of a special fire-retardant fabric and Dabi would carry the thing around like a child if he could get away with it. He didn't know how much being smothered in the heavy fabric would help to ground him, the weight making it so he doesn't feel like he's drifting away from his body, and the covering with something that won't catch, letting him breathe a bit more easily as his anxiety swells. It's beyond good that he has the blanket now, and it only gets better when their support gear comes in and Dabi is given a leather coat that has a removable lining with lots of places he can put similar weights inside of the fabric. He almost resents how quickly Shigaraki was able to pinpoint a way for him to contain the constant discomfort under his skin. But he can't really when this all is working-- for the most part. 

Dabi still wakes up more than he likes to admit, gasping, lungs filled with smoke, and feeling like he might come apart at the seams. And the blanket helps then, but it doesn't fix him. He ends up layering his coat on top of himself as well, and that still isn't enough. So when he and Duster have a private minute he asks, 

"Where can I get another one of those blankets?" 

"I can order it for you, why? Did something happen to the first?" Duster doesn't even look up from his game. 

"No, it's just not heavy enough at night." 

That does get Shigaraki to pause, literally and figuratively, so that he can give Dabi his full attention. "You can't add another blanket, it's not safe. Too much weight could compress your lungs." Oh. Fuck. He wonders if Shigaraki can see the disappointment on his face, because he starts to scratch at his neck before he mumbles, "There might be something else that we can try, though." 

///

Which is how Dabi goes from just sleeping with his blanket, to sleeping with Duster. Beyond weird at first to go to his boss's room whenever he has a bad dream or spike of anxiety, and climb into his bed, the heavy blanket separating their bodies, and then Shig climbs on top of him. He rests his weight completely against Dabi, and like being hugged tight by him the first time, it smothers out his discomfort and lets him fall right to sleep. And Shigaraki can then get off of him and go about whatever he decides to do when his insomnia keeps him up. It's strange and beyond embarrassing at first, but over the course of another week or two of the best nights of sleep Dabi has had since he was five, he gets over the weirdness. 

He's laying underneath Duster again, the tension slowly trickling out of his body and making his eyes get a little heavier. Shigaraki is scrolling on his phone, his chin tucked over Dabi's shoulder, reading some report or another that AFO sent him. They usually don't exchange words when he comes in here, but it's been weeks and Dabi can't help but mumble, 

"Why're you going out of your way to help?" 

He hears the other's thumb stop moving. "I'd hardly call lying on you 'going out of my way'." Shig tells him, sitting up a little. Dabi reaches for him through the blanket and holds onto his shirt, trying to keep him close, and Duster shifts to keep most of his weight on him, just straightening enough so that he can look at Dabi. "But if it's helping, why wouldn't I?" And he says it like that should be obvious, like that's just so simple and expected that the thought that he wouldn't do that is completely foreign. 

Dabi, for as reckless and stupid as it is, can't help but respond to that by leaning up and ruining it by pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Shigaraki stiffens over him and his stomach plummets, his anxiety ratcheting up in his veins again, ready to try and squirm out from under him and go quietly immolate himself elsewhere, but Duster doesn't pull away, he doesn't kill him. His gloved hand wraps around the back of his neck and he holds him in place as his mouth moves against his own. 

The kiss is achingly tender, making a burning bloom behind his eyes that he doesn't want to give name to. But just like the hugs, the blanket, the consideration and care that Shigaraki has been giving him for the past few weeks, a kiss that isn't brutal is completely foreign to him. He's only ever been kissed a few times, never by anyone he wanted to kiss, never when he wasn't so high or drunk that it made any sense. But Duster is gentle as he moves their lips together. His lips are shattered, but soft as he tilts his head to seal them together more completely, and when his tongue begs permission, Dabi opens to let the other inside. There's no rush, no plundering, or biting, it's all just the slow intentional movements of his mouth as he licks behind his teeth, strokes their tongues together, filling Dabi's mouth with the slightly stale taste of mint from his toothpaste. But it's good. It's better than any kiss he's ever had before and Dabi is humiliatingly breathless when Duster pulls away, red eyes dark and half-lidded as he looks down at him. He wonders what he looks like and hopes it's not as desperate as he feels. 

He's really not expecting Shigaraki to murmur, "Sorry, I shouldn't have-- that doesn't have to be a part of this. You can come to me when you need to. I'm not expecting... that in return." 

Dabi blinks, because it hadn't even crossed his mind that Shigaraki would take away the care he's been giving him if he wasn't doing what he wanted. He untangles his hands from beneath the blanket and knots his fingers in the soft, loose sleep shirt across the other's chest. "Okay." He feels his face going a little hotter and hopes that his scars cover it up. "Could it be?" 

The hand around the back of his neck flexes and tightens a bit, and then Shigaraki is leaning back in to kiss him again. It is just as deep as the first, but it's a little faster, a little harder, like Shigaraki is actually hungry for him. It spreads the heat from Dabi's cheeks along his whole body and he tries to match his pace. Duster gives him kiss after kiss, each one building in intensity until Dabi is just taking in little gasps of air every time their lips part even the slightest bit, but not letting himself fully part at all. He doesn't want to pull away completely, he would drown beneath Shigaraki if he could.

But then Shigaraki shifts on top of him, slipping one of his thighs between Dabi's legs and his body goes even hotter as he spreads them open. The hand moves from around his neck, his mouth moving to along his jaw like his scars aren't even an inconvenience, so that he can pull the thick blanket out from between them. Feeling Shigaraki's body against his own without that barrier between them, makes a hazy need start to itch across his veins. Opening his legs to make room, not just for Shigaraki's thigh, but wide enough so that his hips can slot between his own and he can bring every part of their bodies flush against one another makes him breathless. Duster moves slowly, his lips kissing and nipping ever so gently across his jaw and down his neck, teasing his skin as he looks for any place that makes little shivers or tiny gasps escape him. Dabi tries to get his wits about him. He's had other hookups before. They weren't soft, they weren't even good if he's being entirely honest, but they were something and he knows what he's supposed to be doing. It's just that... being under Shigaraki as he lavishes his ruined skin with the same warmth and softness that he was given when he first held him, is making it incredibly hard to focus. 

Duster doesn't seem to mind though, and his hands are moving up to the hem of Dabi's shirt. His fingers dip just beneath it, stroking his stomach just above the edge of his waistband, and then he murmurs against his skin. "Can I?" 

Dabi is terrified of how weak his voice will be if he tries to use it and manages a nod instead. Shigaraki has to lean away from him and Dabi has to let go of how tightly he was clinging to him, but it's worth it when Duster coaxes him out of his shirt. It's a relief to shed the fabric, the heat of his body becoming unbearable. He catches the hem of the other's shirt when he's free of his own and Shigaraki takes the hint, pulling the dark fabric away and tossing it somewhere else in the room as Dabi is left breathless as he gets a look at his body. The bullet wounds are freshly healed, but no longer puffy as the stars from. The cut deep across his shoulder looks much newer and Dabi can see the little scabs on either side of it from how recently the stitches were removed. Those pull his immediate concern, if only because he didn't know their leader was running around with those injuries, but the next is that Shigaraki, for as thin as he is, has more muscle on him than he thought he did. He's lean the way Dabi is, where his body seems to be trying to put on the muscle that it is ready to make, but it's being stopped by something. For Dabi, it's his quirk constantly burning through him and years of malnutrition that keep him wiry with broad shoulders, but for Shigaraki, he wonders, if it's the injuries, the fucked sleep schedule, or the fact they never see him eating anything and he's only ever seen the boss have a drink if it was something hard from the bar. 

But those thoughts aren't given room to breathe as Shigaraki leans back down to catch his mouth in another consuming kiss before his hands are moving over Dabi's chest. His skin is much cooler than his own, but most people are colder than him. He's more focused on how good it feels as he brushes a thumb over his nipple, teasing the bud and playing with the piercing through it. How that good sensation feeds into the gentle, exploratory touch across the seam that runs over his stomach, and how normally that doesn't do anything but hurt, but the lightness of this, how warm his body already is for these proceedings, is making it feel good. He reaches for Duster, trying to touch him, to make certain that he's worth his time when Shigaraki didn't need to give him his attention at all in the first place. But Duster catches one of his wrists and pushes up by his head against the pillows, 

"Let me make you feel good?" He has never been spoken to so softly and Dabi trembles, managing only a tiny nod as his throat goes thicker. 

Shigaraki keeps touching him, kissing his skin, touches exploratory and teasing, until he finds the spots that make him squirm and bite his lip as his cock fills and little moans keep wanting to slip out. He needs to be quiet. Toga's room is right on the other side of the hall, and he will have to immolate them both if they wake her up because she will definitely mock them for this. It's hard to hold back the sounds though when Shigaraki's cock is swelling too and the thin material of their pajama bottoms is barely a barrier between them. His thighs tighten around Duster's hips when he rolls them together. It's the first time someone's touched him in half a year, and it's been even longer than that since he got desperate enough to stroke himself, his piercings and staples across his palm making it a tedious and somewhat unpleasant task. That, he thinks, is making him so much more sensitive, and he's practically whining, biting his lip hard to stay quiet, as Shigaraki grinds them together, his cock feeling so big as it moves against his own. He ends up having to fist his hands into the bedding, his hips giving aborted little twitches up, trying to get the other to go faster, harder, to give him more because it's humiliating that he is so desperate when this is all he's been given. 

"So pretty, sweetheart, so sensitive," Duster's voice is lower, in volume and with the rasp of his own arousal. And his lips go to his cheek, kissing him there like he's nothing but a desperate, blushing virgin, and Dabi feels like one as he is left wanting more so badly. "Is this enough, baby boy?" He rolls his hips more deliberately and Dabi can't help the thin moan he lets out, his jumping to rub against him, sparks dancing along his nerves. Never had someone call him nice pet names in bed either. He doesn't think that those should be making him so much needier, but they are. "Can you cum like this, precious?" Shigaraki doesn't sound like he's mocking him, he sounds like the thought is enough to make him hotter too and he can't hide how wet he's getting as his cock leaks in his pajama bottoms. 

Dabi barely manages to nod. And instead of pulling back to make him cool down so that he can actually be worth the other's time, Duster kisses him again and pushes harder, moving more deliberately as one hand goes to Dabi's thigh, catching it around the back so that he can lift his leg slightly to make the angle even better. Good enough that Dabi can't help the gut-punched moan that comes out of him. 

"That's it, show me how pretty you are when you cum, Dabi." 

He half turns his face into the pillows, gasping and whining lowly as the movements keep going, finding the perfect pace to push the heat in his veins higher and higher until he can't hold on any longer. Dabi bites his lip hard to hide the sound of his pleasure as his balls go tight and his cock pulses his orgasm across his nerves and paints the inside of his pants with a sticky mess that squelches obscenely when Tomura keeps moving against him until Dabi is shaking. 

Shig catches his chin with two fingers and turns him back to him to give him another hot, open-mouthed kiss. "That's it, baby. Beautiful." He kisses him and slows his movements, letting Dabi come down, but that's not what he wants. He wants more. He wants to be worth the care and consideration that Tomura keeps trying to give him even though he's mostly been a shit to the other man who tried to kill him when they met. 

He kisses back as hard as he can manage when his limbs feel like jelly and tries to get a hand into Duster's pants. "Shig, let me--" 

His words are cut off with another kiss. "Let me see you, baby?" 

He nods weakly, and Shigaraki moves so that he can peel his sticky pants off of his legs. He feels his face heat as he sees what a mess he's made of himself, but Duster is looking at his cum smeared skin like he's going to eat him alive and Dabi doesn't have to ask him this time to have him shifting so that he can take off his pajamas as well. He whimpers when he sees how big the other's cock is, flushed dark at his head and with pretty veins winding along the underside. Shigaraki leans over him again, one of his hands moving down Dabi's body, palming at his soft cock, and Dabi knows immediately with how hot he still is, that he won't stay that way for long. Especially not when Shigaraki's thumb finds his ladder and he starts to tease him there. 

"You're gorgeous, sweetheart." His words come out as a purr and Dabi thinks he's going to boil his brain if Duster doesn't start acting like he is as desperate for release as he must be feeling from how hard he already is. "I want to see you spread open for me, baby boy. Is that alright? Can I fuck your pretty hole, precious?" 

Dabi may incinerate them both if he doesn't. "Please, Tomura--" 

"That's it. Want you to use my name, firefly." He drops a kiss to his forehead and then reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving a half empty bottle of lube as Dabi's cock aches as he starts to fill again so soon. He spreads his legs as wide as he can, tilting his hips up, and Shigaraki doesn't hesitate to push one of the other pillows beneath his hips so that he can keep them at the angle that he wants without strain. He uncaps the lube and squirts some into his hand, letting it warm a bit against his palm as he leans in and drags his mouth across the seam over his collarbone before his lips find a nipple and he starts to kiss, suck, and tease at the bud and his piercing there. He keeps doing that as his fingers trace around his rim, the first touch light and exploratory, but when Dabi pushes back against them instead of flinching away, he starts to move with a lot more sureness. 

His chest is aching and over-sensitive by the time Tomura has two fingers inside of him, his body opening up for him readily between the lingering bliss of his first orgasm and the way every gentle touch is making him hotter than any rough one he's been given since he started having sex. When Shigaraki crooks his fingers and starts to rub and tease against his prostate he has to shove his knuckles between his teeth to keep from making too much noise as his whole body goes incandescent with how good it feels. Shigaraki gives him a third, kisses his cheek, and strokes his cock until he's hard and breathless with the need for more. It's only then that he slips his fingers out and reaches back over to the bedside drawer to try and grab a condom out of the box inside. 

Dabi whines, taking his skin from between his teeth, "Clean," he's always had to be careful because of his seams and how prone to infection he is, but he wants this too much to have something separating their skin. "Tomura, inside, please." 

"Fuck, you're so perfect, baby boy." The words are rough and raw, and his pleading ears Dabi a kiss. Tomura gives another squirt of the lube, not bothering to warm it for himself before he's slicking up his cock and pressing his head against Dabi's hole. Distantly, he realizes that he's never had a cock this big before, but he can't find even an ounce of hesitation inside of him now as Tomura starts to push in. 

Dabi swears his ears are ringing as he feels the other starting to stretch his hole, even just the first inch of him making him breathless. He's never felt his pleasure go so high and Tomura letting out a harsher breath against his lips, a soft growl in his voice when he says, 

"You're so tight, sweetheart," in a way that makes that feel like the highest praise Dabi has ever earned. He mewls weakly, a sound that he's never heard himself make before as Duster sinks inside slowly until his body is impossibly full and his muscles are all but clinging to Tomura's length. He can't stop trembling beneath him, the stretch feeling so good, but completely overwhelming as Tomura peppers his skin with kisses and shushes him softly. He stays still, petting along his body, and making sure that he has the time to adjust, for a long while, like his need is miles away when Dabi's own desperation feels like it's going to make his skin catch. 

When he finally manages to weakly roll his hips up, Tomura takes that for the invitation that it is. He still doesn't fuck him hard. He goes slowly, but his movements are deep and rolling, making his body feel hotter and tighter as they come again and again, Shigaraki making sure that he has his hips angled so that he can brush over his prostate every time his cock drives deep into his heat. It is beyond satisfaction, beyond words, to be fucked like this and Dabi can taste smoke crawling up the back of his throat as he lets the other take him apart. 

He doesn't know how long Tomura is fucking him, barely able to remember to bite his tongue to stay quiet, let alone keep track of anything happening in the world around him. He just knows that by the time he's desperate for his second orgasm, Shigaraki must be dying for his first. But it's still him who slips over that edge again, not even being able to warn him, not even having a hand on his cock. Tomura's just feels so good as it pushes inside of him and rubs over his walls, the stretch so wide and so satisfying, that it practically sneaks up on him and he's suddenly making their stomachs even stickier as he gives one soft whimper as he cums. It heightens both of their pleasure, because his muscles clench tight around Shigaraki's cock, so tight he practically growls as his movements get shallower, keeping his cock deep inside of him for a few more thrusts before Dabi's insides are dripping with warmth as Tomura gives a final rough gasp as he cums. 

Dabi didn't know his body could feel so heavy and so light at the same time as he lays underneath the other man, dazed and blissful as the aftershocks of his orgasm run through him. He gives a soft, fluttery sigh, exhaustion starting to sweep over him as they lay together. Tomura gets his wits about him first, and he starts to shift, starting to pull out and try to move his weight from on top of him, but Dabi doesn't want that. He manages to hook an arm around his shoulders and weakly pulls at him until he settles again, Dabi pushing his face right into his neck. Duster laughs lightly, a soft kiss being pressed to the top of Dabi's hair. 

"You want to stay like this for a little while, firefly?" 

He barely manages a nod, but that's enough for the other man to settle his weight back over him. Dabi is so tired that he can barely keep his eyes open, and he has the fleeting thought that he is absolutely fucked because as good and grounding as it is to have Tomura's weight on top of him is already, he's never going to be able to forget how satisfying it feels to be pressed this close and filled up so gently. 

///

He wakes the next morning achingly hard, warm, and with his muscles fluttering as he feels Tomura's cock still inside of him, cum leaking out of his hole, sticky and thick, because the other clearly stayed inside of him throughout the night. Dabi can't help the loud moan that spills out of him, his body trembling as he catches onto the other's skin, fingers digging into his uninjured shoulder and at his side as he feels how good it is to be full like this. That sound is met with a soft hiss from Tomura as he also rouses and feels their bodies trying to find relief after being so stimulated for so many hours. 

"Fuck, precious, ah--"

Dabi digs his nails in, trying to twitch his nearly numb hips into some semblance of movement, crying out when doing so makes his hard cock rub against Tomura's stomach and send even sharper pleasure over his nerves. It all stings, it's definitely too much, and Dabi wants even more. 

"Ah, baby, can I?" 

"Tomura," he barely manages the word, his voice tiny and shaking badly, but he manages another weak nod and roll of his hips. 

"Fuck, not going to last long, sweetheart." He doesn't know how Shigaraki could possibly think he'd be any better when the first little movement of his hips makes his insides feel like they're on fire, every inch of his walls feeling swollen, aching, and deliciously oversensitive. Neither of them are going to manage the time they took with each other last night. 

When he cums again it's with a sharp ache deep in his balls as he realizes that he must have orgasmed in his sleep as well, because there's hardly a dribble of cum that is added to the mess smeared all between their stomachs. And the little clench of his muscles makes Tomura spill too, groaning lowly in his ear and putting enough cum into him that there's a fresh pulse of it spilling onto the sheets as he does. 

They lay, trembling, together for another long moment before Tomura is pulling out and shifting to catch his lips in another long, sweet kiss that somehow melts Dabi even more. 

///

Fucking Shigaraki doesn't fix his anxiety or whatever that makes him so bad with people and so prone to getting overwhelmed. It doesn't make him need his weighted coat or blanket any less. All it does is give him maybe the first real relationship he's ever had with someone he's sleeping with, and guarantee that the nights he needs to go to him to sleep, Tomura will pepper his face and lips with kisses and tell him how pretty and sweet he is beneath him, even if they don't actually fuck at those times. Dabi doesn't really have words to tell Duster how much he likes all of that, but he does stop calling the other man gross, so he thinks he figures it out. 

And he is definitely going to be running right into his room tonight after how awful this planning session has been. He's never going to say that planning for the inevitable clusterfuck that the summer camp job is going to be easy. Not when the League is home to a couple of grade-A crazies, including a guy who gets distracted by how edible his teammates are, and two young teenagers. On top of that, Muscular's ego and battlelust are just getting more and more frustratingly prevalent as they get deeper into the sessions. Thankfully, after seeing how the hulking meathead could consistently send Dabi into a panic attack whenever he got too close, Shigaraki decided that he would not be Dabi's bodyguard during the infiltration as originally planned. He didn't want Muscular doing something stupid and Dabi going off or shutting down in the middle of a job, putting himself and the others all in danger if he did. So instead the nomu that they were going to have on the perimeter will be shadowing him to keep him safe and Muscular would be far on the outskirts, made even more of an insult because, 

"That's a better place for you anyway since you're still doing so abysmally at avoiding the fake flames during training." Duster says that without even looking up and Dabi has about three seconds to be incredibly, incredibly smug over that comment, Toga snickering in agreement, as Muscular's face flushes a blotchy, ugly red with his anger. 

"The only reason that crispy fuck needs protection is because he can't handle himself." He snarls. Dabi would probably have just rolled his eyes and shrugged that off, savoring in the other's bruised ego, but he doesn't get that chance as the table they had the map laid out on is suddenly flying across the bar, crashing into the far wall with the splintering of wood, as they all give their own startled shouts before Muscular is lunging for him. Dabi hates how he sees blue eyes in his face for a second as he calls up his flames to try and burn him without torching the rest of the bar. But he doesn't even have a chance to send the sparks off of his skin. 

Tomura grabs Goto by one arm, one hand around his wrist, and the other striking the heel of his palm to the skin. His face is twisted into a snarl of his own, looking more vicious than Dabi has ever seen him, as he dislocates Muscular's elbow with a loud pop. The force of the blow makes him go slightly off balance and Shigaraki takes that as an opportunity to use the close combat training that none of them have ever actually had a chance to see before, and he shifts his center of gravity. Muscular practically trips over him, going ass over teakettle and making Dabi have to drop his flames and move a few feet back so that when the other hits the ground, he's not in the way. Tomura doesn't stop there, keeping his injured arm up and locked so that he can't move it, and dropping down to kneel on his chest, a knee pressed into his throat. 

"Do not," He snarls, his voice a thousand times more dangerous than it sounded when he was threatening him during their first meeting. "Ever try to lay your hands on one of your teammates again," He tightens his fingers around Goto's wrist, his single, raised finger getting much closer to his skin. "Or I won't leave you with any hands at all when I'm done. Am I clear?" But he digs his knee tighter into his throat, choking off his air and keeping him there even as he uses his other arm to tap against the floor in surrender. When he tries to reach for Shigaraki to push him off, he drops his raised finger and his skin starts to shatter. His hand immediately drops back to the floor and Shigaraki raises his after another second, just long enough for his skin to be cracked open and blood to be streaming down his arm. He holds him until his face starts to ashen and his eye begins to roll back, and only then does he toss his injured arm aside and push off of the floor. 

Shigaraki takes a breath and then casts his gaze around the room. Dabi manages to look up as well, seeing a mixture of shock, and from Toga, sheer delight, at the display. "If you want to be a part of the League, you follow orders, you look out for one another, and you never raise a hand to your teammates. I am not going to have another party that forgets its goals as soon as they're faced with something they weren't prepared for." 

"Yeah, yup, you got it boss." Magne also sounds a little delighted too, which he wasn't expecting. 

"He doesn't get to see the doctor until tomorrow," He turns to head towards the stairs, clearly ending this session, "Clean up that mess." 

No one even bothers to protest as he leaves, they just watch him until he is out of sight, and even then, no one says a word as they hear his door open and shut upstairs. He feels a little shaky, the spike of his adrenaline from being attacked, and then the sudden rush of not being hurt leaving him feel like his skin isn't sitting over his bones quite right, but he makes himself turn to the others again. He gets a fresher burst of it when he finds they're all looking at him as Muscular tries to push himself up from the floor. 

Toga makes a little shooing motion at him and he feels his face heat again, though this time with a blush. He hadn't thought any of them were aware of what he and Duster have been up to, and he is fairly certain he's blushing all the way down his neck, not that anyone can see it, as he flicks them all off as he turns to go upstairs too. He does end up stomping a little as he goes, but that's not enough to cover up Toga's loud, 

"I told you so!" To the others. He should have burned the entire bar down. He's tempted to go into her room and set her bed on fire. Instead he goes to Tomura's door and taps his knuckles against it too softly for it even to really be a knock, before he's opening the door and slipping inside. Duster looks up at him from the center of his room, his shirt already half off and Dabi sees why immediately. The wound on his shoulder is torn open, blood slipping over his pale skin, and Dabi doesn't say anything. He slips back out into the hall, retrieving the first-aid kit and wetting a washcloth from the bathroom, before he comes back in. 

Neither of them speak as he gets Tomura to sit on the edge of his bed. He pulls the chair over and sits in front of him, dabbing away the blood, making sure that it's not open so deeply that he'll need new stitches, and then putting some antiseptic onto it. It's strange to be helping someone else, having spent all of his life having to bandage his own wounds, but he thinks he does a passible job applying the cotton and taping down the gauze. Tomura doesn't complain or correct him at least, and when he's finished, Dabi lets out a shaky breath and then allows himself the humiliating vulnerability of leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the bandages. 

Duster sighs, a low, slow sound and Dabi sees the tension in him fall away. Then his hand lifts hesitantly towards him, like he thinks that maybe, after being reminded how dangerous his touches are, that he won't want them anymore. But Dabi doesn't flinch. He catches the other's wrist and holds him still as he rests his cheek against his palm, four fingers against his skin. He wonders if the gut-punched desperation in Tomura's expression is the same way that he's looked at the other every time he's held him through a panic attack. He thinks he understands now why Tomura was so good with those now. He thinks he's not the only one who's been 'off-putting' and bad with people his whole life. But Tomura is good with him. Good to him. He's learning. Dabi has always been good at learning too. 

He leans in and this kiss is as achingly tender as their first, their last, and he hopes, their next. 

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Ouchie

**

It happened so quickly. Hyunjin found himself facing an unexpected challenge. He had sustained an injury during a particularly intense rehearsal for the VMA’s. It left not just physical pain but also emotional ripples that extended to the closest person in his life—the ninth member, his girlfriend, Y/n.

He was trying to do a flip off of I.N’s back about once Y/n had walked in he lost concentration and lost his balance causing him to fall on his ankle badly.

As the news of Hyunjin's injury spread within the group, concern and support poured in. The boys, bound by a deep sense of camaraderie, rallied around their injured member. However, within this sea of well-wishing voices, Y/n found herself grappling with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

In the quiet moments that followed the accident, Y/n, her heart heavy with a sense of responsibility, hesitated to approach him. Fear clung to her like a shadow, whispering irrational thoughts that she was somehow the cause of his injury. The once effortless connection between them now felt fragile, and the fear of unintentionally causing him harm loomed large in her mind.

One day, as Hyunjin, determined to bounce back from the injury, navigated through physical therapy, he noticed the subtle distance that had crept into his interactions with her. Her hesitance to touch him, the cautious glances, and the unspoken anxiety were impossible to ignore.

"Baby, can we talk?" Hyunjin implored, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration, as he gently grabbed her hand.

Y/n on the other hand, her gaze averted, pulled away. "I... I don't want to hurt you accidentally. I'm scared, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin, sensing the magnitude of her apprehension, furrowed his brows. "Scared? You've been avoiding me, and I don't understand why. I need you with me during this, not distant."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to articulate her fears. "What if I was the reason you got hurt? What if I distract you, and something worse happens?"

Hyunjin, taken aback by her words, held her gaze with a mixture of confusion and concern. "What are you talking about? You didn't cause my injury. Accidents happen, and it's not your fault."

Despite Hyunjin's reassurances, she couldn't shake off the irrational guilt that clung to her. In a desperate attempt to protect him, she distanced herself, inadvertently creating a barrier between them.

Recognizing the complexity of the situation, Chan, the wise leader of Stray Kids, observed the dynamics between Hyunjin and her. Sensing an underlying issue, he decided to intervene, understanding that communication was key to resolving their emotional tangle.

One evening, as they all gathered in the shared space of their dorm, Chan approached her with a gentle smile. "Mind if we talk for a bit?"

She nodded, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in her eyes. Chan guided her to a quieter corner, away from the watchful eyes of the group.

"Something seems off between you and Hyunjin," Chan began, his voice a soothing melody. "Mind sharing what's going on?"

The ninth member, her emotions bubbling beneath the surface, hesitated before speaking. "I'm scared, Chan. I'm scared that I caused Hyunjin's injury, that my presence might distract him, and he'll get hurt again."

Chan, his gaze warm and understanding, took a moment to absorb her words. "Hyunjin cares about you deeply. He wouldn't want you to carry this burden. Let me help you understand that you're not to blame."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to articulate the irrational fears that had taken root in her mind. Chan, with a calm presence, patiently listened, allowing her to unpack the emotional baggage that had been weighing her down.

"Sometimes accidents happen, and they're beyond anyone's control," Chan reassured her. "Hyunjin needs your support, not your distance. It's important to communicate and navigate through these emotions together."

Encouraged by Chan's words, she found herself opening up about the irrational fears that had fueled her distancing from Hyunjin. Chan, with empathy and wisdom, gently guided her toward a more balanced perspective.

"You care about Hyunjin, and that's evident in your concern. But you need to understand that accidents aren't caused by love or distraction. They're unfortunate events that happen in the course of our lives," Chan explained. "Hyunjin doesn't blame you, and he needs you by his side, not pushed away."

Feeling a sense of clarity and comfort, the ninth member nodded. "I just... I don't want to be the reason for his pain. It scares me."

Chan, with a reassuring smile, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Fear is natural, but don't let it control you. Talk to Hyunjin. Share your feelings with him. He loves you, and he wants to face these challenges together."

Armed with Chan's words of wisdom, Y/n approached the impending conversation with a newfound sense of courage. Later that evening, as Stray Kids gathered for a meal, she found herself seeking a quiet moment with Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin, we need to talk," she began, her voice a mix of vulnerability and determination.

Hyunjin, sensing the seriousness of her tone, nodded and guided her to a more secluded corner. "What's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. "I've been scared. Scared that I might have caused your injury, that my presence might distract you and lead to something worse."

Hyunjin, his expression softening, gently cupped her face. "Listen to me, it's not your fault. Accidents happen, and I don't blame you. I need you with me during this, not pushing me away."

Her eyes filling with tears, finally allowed herself to be vulnerable. She shared the irrational fears that had haunted her, the weight of guilt that had driven a wedge between them.

Hyunjin, listening with compassion, wiped away her tears. "I understand your fears, but we face challenges together. You're not a distraction; you're my strength. Don't carry this burden alone. We're a team, okay?"

Embraced by Hyunjin's understanding and reassurance, she felt a sense of relief. The emotional barricade that had separated them began to crumble, making way for a renewed connection.

Later that night, as they all gathered for a practice session, the dynamics within the group had shifted. Their relationship , once tested by emotional tension, now resonated with a shared understanding of vulnerability and support.

Chan, observing the positive change, smiled as he watched Hyunjin and Y/n interact. The unspoken fears had given way to open communication, reinforcing the bond that defined Stray Kids not just as a musical group but as a family of friends navigating the complexities of life together.

The injury that had initially cast a shadow over Hyunjin and his girlfriend's relationship became a testament to the strength that emerged when love, understanding, and open communication prevailed. The stage, once a battleground.

[planefood]

I was telling some friends last night I'd be going more indepth with Mikey too so here it is

Sometimes I worry I infantilise Mikey a lot, he is a favourite character of mine and he's an amalgamation of the most vulnerable parts of myself. He's also given the short end of the stick from his life and the people around him as well which makes me very defensive about him in general.

If I'm a gobstopper and each of my characters are a specific layer of it, Mikey would be my soft centre

(I swear they have gum in the centre I promise thats a thing)

BUT just like I don't wanna give people the impression that Tandy is just a one sided grumpy pants, I don't wanna give the impression that Mikey is a perfect victim or incapable of fending for himself either. Max is incredibly over protective of him which causes a lot of strain in their relationship. Mikey hasn't been treated very kindly by people around him because he's very high maintenance and not very good at making people feel like he cares about them even if he does. Which makes him latch onto robots like Max who treat him with any amount of kindness. Max will defend him from pretty much everything. But after awhile Mikey starts lashing out because, truth be told, Max doesn't really view Mikey as an equal despite the kindness he shows him. Which eventually gets on Mikeys nerves. Max doesn't give him the proper space to heal from past traumas. Maybe I can sometimes pull a Max on him unintentionally when I write about him or draw him.

I created Mikey in a middle of a particularly grueling work week, feeling totally out of my element and very vulnerable. I believe I made him around the time I had started some antidepressants I reacted really badly to or just after I had to quit them cold turkey. I rolled up all those feelings I had at the time and sculpted it into Mikey. It's no wonder he looks absolutely miserable on his first ref

I also based him off an old dell laptop I had when I was a kid, windows 7. I broke it because I accidentally turned it off while it was updating and turned its computer brain into soup. That left a particular impression in my mind of what Dell computers were like: easy to break, badly. I turned that into Mikey being a lot more emotionally fragile compared to a lot of my other characters. I imagined what I'd be like if I was a Dell computer and I figured I'd probably not be happy. I recently got an old Dell Laptop that's similar to Mikey as a gift from a friend. He doesn't have a battery so he needs to be plugged in at all times but otherwise he works fine and I find him to be quite charming.

Everytime I see him I think about how I write Mikey. I wanted to make a character that represented the worst parts of my mental health but also gave a view into how other robots could quickly turn on a fellow robot if they viewed them as being too burdensome or annoying. But I don't want Mikey to just be a "hey maybe bullying people is bad" 90s kid cartoon style moral for Tandy. I enjoy writing him as a character in general. He is dipping his feet into writing and creating comics and I'm keen on exploring other facets of him as time goes on.

[wilcze-kudly]

Headcanons about Aiwei's relationship with the Beifong babies bcs I'm lowkey obsessed with that finely aged twink.

Aiwei is sort of an enigma, since all we know is that he was a member of the Red Lotus and he was infiltrating Zaofu. We are never really told how long he's been in Zaofu, but Suyin seems to consider him family, so probably a few years. I personally believe he became Suyin's right hand man around the time she was pregnant with the twins. I headcanon that that pregnancy was very hard on Suyin's body and that's also the reason the twins were her last biological kids.

And Aiwei, working under the Red Lotus' commands, took advantage of Suyin's fragile state and helped her a lot in managing the city while she was incapacitated and also offering her a lot of mental support, becoming her friend. I think Suyin, being the traumatised and affection starved person she is, would very quickly come to consider him family.

One of my sillier headcanons is that Wei was named after Aiwei, due to Suyin's gratitude for how much Aiwei helped her during her pregnancy. And since they already had a Juniour in the family, they just named Wei an abbreviation.

I can see Aiwei's first "oh shit I'm getting attached to this family" moment when he's holding baby Wei.

After Zaheer and co get arrested, Aiwei is a bit lost. He has nowhere to go, and his leaders cant really communicate with him much.

So he stays in Zaofu, where he has a good position and good connections. At first it's just a strategic choice at remaining in a position where he can still spread the teachings of the Red Lotus.

But he also spends a lot of time with Suyin and her family. I mean, he seems to be the only person (outside of staff and guests) living in the same district as the Beifong mansion is situated. And it almost looks like this house was built purely for him?

I think he becomes a sort of pseudo uncle to the Beifong babies, and probably was very important, since I headcanon that Suyin was very protective of them and perhaps even had them homeschooled.

I can actually even see Aiwei being one of the kids' educators in this homeschooling. He appears to be a learnt man and I could theorise that he has some knowledge of medicine. He was able to notice Lin's mental condition affecting her body. Also, he raised no suspicion to being able to diagnose that Korra was immobilised with shirshu venom and also no one was surprised that he just had the antidote on hand. Like yeah, he probably knew the Red Lotus would use the venom, but the fact that no one was surprised that he just seemed so prepared for diagnosing and curing the venom of this rare and dangerous animal leads me to believe that he may be some kind of medical practitioner, or at least well oriented in the field.

Due to this, I can also see him as the person who would tend to the baby Beifongs when they got injured or sick as children, leading for him to get even closer ingrained with the family. I think especially when Kuvira arrived and started getting in arguments and potential altercations with the baby Beifongs, they would often find solace with him

I think Aiwei might try to help Kuvira deal with her anger, but I don't believe she'd ever really trust him as much as the other kids did.

Particularly since Kuvira is such a controlling individual, even in her youth, while Aiwei is a big proponent of personal freedom.

Like she'd definetly hear him yapping about individuality and act like an angsty teen at the school mandated trip to the therapist's office.

But I always imagined that Aiwei and Huan were actually super close. Huan seems to echo a lot of Aiwei's individualism based ideals which could be due to him admiring Aiwei so much.

I also think Huan got his eyebrow piercing for his 17th birthday when Aiwei helped him get it without Su knowing. Su is still a little salty lol.

I like to imagine that Aiwei was the one to first take note of Huan's artistic talents and encourage them over Huan trying to continue Toph and Su's legacy of more combat based bending. I can also see him helping Suyin accept the fact that maybe Huan won't want to follow in her footsteps.

I headcanon that the different art and pottery pieces on the shelf in Aiwei's house are Huan's first works, before he developed his very characteristic style.

I headcanon that Huan always had an extremely sensitive seismic sense which developed when he was cery young and that it led him to get overstimulated easily. And Aiwei, who leans into his seismic sense, helped him manage and compartmentalise the overwhelming amount of sensations.

I think Huan was most hurt by Aiwei's betrayal, after Suyin. He looked up to Aiwei, and trusted him idolised him. And I think that Aiwei never being able to give them an answer due to his spirit being trapped just ate Huan up. I think it lead to Huan becoming much more distrustful and even more closed off than usual. This was extradited by what happened with Baatar and Kuvira, perhaps leaving Huan barely speaking to people who aren't Opal or the twins, unless strictly necessary, as we never hear him speak after the Beifong family gets captured by Kuvira.

Speaking of Aiwei's kinda death, I don't buy that the only reason Zaheer eliminated Aiwei is because he was a 'loose end'. Like my brother in Raava you and your polycule got imprisoned for like 14 years or smth that was the ultimate fumble.

I think it's because Zaheer sensed that Aiwei had gotten close to the Beifongs and his loyalty to the Red Lotus might be compromised. Especially that the Red Lotus are also planning to attack the Northern Air Temple, directly endangering Opal, whom Aiwei is basically an uncle to. I mean, he was at her goodbye dinner.

I also like to think Aiwei, being a spiritual person, helped Opal a lot in her first days of airbending and taught her to meditate to centre herself.

I also believe that in the Fog of Lost Souls, he is tormented by memories of his happy years with the Beifongs and by the fact that he betrayed them, endangered them, threw away his relationship with them for a borderline cult.

[greenthena]

Somebody to Love

Aziraphale does this little thing with his hand when Angel!Crowley starts gesturing all wildly like he does. It's like he thinks for a moment about reaching out to grab Angel!Crowley's hand. To make a connection. Or, I dunno, maybe, just for a second, he imagines Angel!Crowley is reaching out to him.

But Angel!Crowley is entirely preoccupied with the sheer joy of what he's made. He's really very self-absorbed. Not in a rotten way, but like a kid who is so pleased to have done something he finds wonderful and is hyperfocused on his creation. The way Angel!Crowley looks back to his nebula in the end of the gif above. He's made a connection, already. But he's connected to this thing he's made, not to another angel.

It's not until Aziraphale tells him that the word from upstairs is that Angel!Crowley's nebula is only going to last a few thousand years that Angel!Crowley finally really looks at him. And even then, Angel!Crowley still doesn't reach out to make any meaningful connection with Aziraphale. Instead, he shares his plan to go straight to the top and give the Almighty some suggestions for how to run things. Angel!Crowley has the confidence (in this case meaning a combination of optimism and naivete) that God will hear his questions because he has no concept of self-doubt. He is entirely confident in his own abilities and because of this, he's not looking for a peer to fulfill his needs, even his need for connection.

Fallen Crowley has to be self-sufficient because he can't trust anyone. Hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope? And, yes, he trusts Aziraphale more than he trusts anyone else, but that trust is fragile and we rarely see Crowley lean into it. We see how very new and delicate this trust is in 1941, after the bullet catch when Crowley says, "You said, 'trust me.'" And Aziraphale replies, almost in disbelief, "And you did."

Now hear me out. Angel!Crowley's brand of self-sufficiency is the precursor of Fallen Crowley's trust issues.

Angel!Crowley demands a bit of help from a passing angel, barely acknowledges the help provided, responds flippantly to Aziraphale's praise, and ignore's Aziraphale's advice to proceed with caution in his dealings with the higher ups. Angel!Crowley only engages in connection with Aziraphale (and I'm guessing other angels, as well) when he needs something. Unlike Aziraphale, Angel!Crowley's not a particularly social being (at least from what we're shown) except when social interactions create immediate, tangible benefit to him. (I say this with nothing but love for Angel!Crowley, myself an AuDHD adult who struggles to understand the function of many forms of social interactions.)

I think that in the Fall, Angel!Crowley's self-sufficiency shifted from a sort of confident, creative individualism to a withdrawn, mantled motivation for self-protection. Crowley's never been good at connecting with others. As an angel, this manifested in his demonstrated tendency to become fully absorbed in his work. As a demon, we can see this same trait evidenced in his trust issues.

But here's what I find fascinating. On the wall, when Crowley slithers up to Aziraphale, it's the demon who initiates the bid for connection.

As Angel!Crowley, his self-sufficiency had been buttressed (yes, I'm sticking to my word choice) by his innate connection to the Almighty. He didn't seek out connection with other angels, because he already felt naturally connected to his Creator. But Fallen Crowley has lost that connection. So now, he's torn between protecting what's left of his identity, shielding himself from additional suffering, and inching his way toward trying to find someone with whom he can connect.

And now, please cue Freddie Mercury.

[xenosaurus]

listen listen listen. i need to know everything about this disabled Big Lad and the badass wife please and thank u

Their names are Ami (human) and Beezle (u’rahm)! Ami was adopted by a u’rahm family when she was a small child and raised entirely separate from other humans, Beezle was her childhood best friend.

Beezle’s disability is genetic, but also recessive and varying in presentation. It’s a growth hormone insensitivity that prevents some systems from responding appropriately to periods of rapid growth. Most individuals with the condition due within a few days of birth, as the cartilage supporting their organs fails to grow fast enough and inevitably blocks their intestines.

However, there is a separate, much less severe genetic condition that is fairly common among u’rahm that affects the supportive and connective tissues— in most people, it leads to hypermobile joints and chronic digestive discomfort. If you have both, though, it drastically reduces the chance of a fatal organ blockage, as the too-small cartilage is flexible enough to allow food to pass through.

Those that survive early childhood usually go undiagnosed until their first adolescent growth spurt, when the particular growth hormone becomes a primary signaler in development. They almost always die.

Beezle is the youngest of five children, and has a particularly severe case of the aforementioned joint problem. The comorbidity got him to adulthood, but two of his siblings died young. His mother, mourning and firmly in denial about how sick her youngest is now that he’s relatively stable, put a lot of pressure on him to live a “normal” life. There is a dangerous lack of respect for limitations and accommodation.

Ami, small and fragile as a child, and Beezle, sick and fragile in general, were the bottom of the social pecking order in a situation where roughhousing is used to define relationships. Bullied kid besties, basically— they imprinted on each other young. They were ‘snare kids’, a particular low social ranking defined not by losing fights, but by skipping them and relying on tricks and cleverness. Hunting with traps.

Beezle is patient, maintains an impressive poker face, and is depressingly used to making compromises on his comfort and safety (lose the battle, win the war). He’s calculating and deceptively gentle, willing to let you walk all over him riiight until the last second. Ami, on the other hand, is often outright mean and happy to fight dirty. She’s so small her anger is easily brushed off, so she doesn’t bother to hide it.

They’re incredibly protective of each other, with the well-earned trust and vulnerability of two people who have repeatedly proved themselves willing to make sacrifices for the other.

[lara-cairncross]

Hi!! I have two questions about your rottmnt fairy au, and I don’t really know if these have been answered yet or if you even have the answer to the second one, (which is totally fine btw! ＾＾). The questions may be a bit dumb but still. Curiosity got the best of me.

1. A question about Donnie’s damaged wing, I would assume it’d be quite fragile due to the damage it already has, so I do wonder if it could get worse. Like how a normal fairy’s wings have the possibility of ripping. I wonder if maybe Donnie’s wing had gotten slightly worse (like- idk a small rip or chunk coming of off it) before he had made his brace?

2. How does the whole apocalyps timeline work (if you had even planned something like that in your au). Because I had noticed you saying that yokai are fairies, and humans like april are just that, human. Does that mean Casey junior is also a human? Because the only thing I imagine is just little fairy leo teaching a full on human how to fight. (-_-;)

Btw I really really like your au! I used to watch the tinkerbell films over and over again (I have probably watched every one at least ten times-) and to see my current hyper fixation be mixed with something I really liked as a kid fills me with excitement! (Sorry if the questions may be a bit confusing I’m not good at this)

hi hi hi! your questions aren't dumb at all :D as far as I'm concerned, there's no such thing as a stupid question, y'know? I love getting to answer them ^^

Yes, Donnie's wings (particularly the damaged one) are very susceptible to further damage. Part of the reason is the fact that his wings are always on the outside of his shell (due to him being a softshell), and thus, he doesn't have the ability to hide them away for protection like Leo and Mikey (and partially Raph, although Raph's shell works a little differently, with his shell spikes folding down to act as a defense). That's why Donnie's wing brace includes that gold shell over his wings! Extra protection :) You're correct about them possibly being damaged before he was able to build the brace though-- I can definitely imagine the holes/tears in his wing getting stuck on branches and being pulled if he's not careful. There's also the fact that fairy wings don't feel pain-- referenced by Raini being able to painlessly cut off her wings in order to swim underwater in the Pixie Hollow books-- so Donnie would have trouble noticing if his wing was caught on something and tearing.

I don't really have an apocalypse timeline planned out so far. I do have ideas for fitting in the Kraang (which,,, idk if i'll ever actually make it to that plot point BUT WE'LL SEE LOL), but there's likely not going to be a future arc or anything. That being said, I DO have ideas for both Casey and CJ that involve them not being humans OR fairies... :))))

I'm glad you're enjoying it!!!! This is ALSO me combining hyperfixations lol, I'm happy someone else feels the same way!!! 💜🧡

[kidstemplatte]

I need more dad terzo content. Everything you write is absolutely amazing!!!

the devil’s kiss (pt. 2)

pairing: dad! terzo x fem reader

summary: your daughter has a rough first day of school and is comforted by you and terzo.

song rec: ugly by nicole dollanganger

thank you so much! that seriously means so much to me. thank you.❤️ this is a continuation of this fanfiction i previously wrote. i recommend reading it before this one! i hope you enjoy!🥰

Terzo, after a particularly boring meeting, walked out of the office with eagerness. Today was no regular day. Today was his stellina’s first day of kindergarten, and he wanted to hear all the details. His stride came to a sudden stop when he heard faint sniffling and the sound of your voice saying,

“No, baby… that’s not true at all.”

Was his sweet Violetta… crying?

After a brief pause in his tracks, Terzo’s paternal instincts kicked in as he instantly began heading in the direction of his daughter’s pained voice, desperate to fix the source of distress. As he turned the corner and headed towards the crying, he noticed your shadow, just barely visible beyond the doorframe of your daughter’s room.

“I think Papa’s here, sweetie. I’ll be right back.” He heard you say, stepping outside of Violetta’s room with teary eyes as the heart-wrenching sound of her crying continued.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Terzo frantically questioned, placing his hands on your arms, desperate to know what was making his sweet girl cry.

“She… the kids at school were mean to her. About her birthmark.” You explained in a choked whisper, rubbing tears from your eyes.

Your daughter, Violetta, was born with a red birthmark adorning the right side of her face. You two had discussed the struggles and judgement she may face when entering school, but were not at all prepared for the outburst you were witnessing.

Without thinking twice, Terzo entered Violetta’s room, and was faced with a tragic sight: his precious, perfect, beautiful daughter sitting on the carpet, bawling her eyes out.

“Papaaa…” she wailed, tears running down her face, holding out her arms so her daddy would hold her.

“Oh la mia stellina, come here, Papa’s got you…” he cooed, scooping her up into his arms and holding her against his chest.

A familiar ache began to grow in Terzo’s heart and throat, one that meant tears would soon follow.

“Papa… I’m ugly…” she cried against his neck.

Ugly?

His sweet, beautiful, perfect girl thought she was… ugly?

Who even taught her that word?

How could someone say that to her?

And why?

Terzo had never wanted to cry so much in his entire life. And he did. As he held his sweet baby girl in his arms, he couldn’t prevent tears from rolling down his face as well.

“They wouldn’t let me play with them because I scared them… They said I’m ugly.” she cried into his jacket.

Terzo was heartbroken. But that didn’t matter. What mattered is that she was.

From the moment Terzo layed eyes on his daughter, he knew he would make it his life’s mission to protect her from the cruelness of the world.

Her heart glimmered, like glass, but was fragile as well. He knew a heart as precious as hers was bound to be broken more than once. But he swore on his life he would always piece it back together somehow, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how badly the cuts from the shards stung, no matter how bloody his hands got, he would fix it. For her.

“La mia Violetta, la mia dolce bambina, tutto il mio mondo,” he began, taking a seat on her bed and holding her on his lap as you followed and sat beside them.

“You are not ugly. You are beautiful, la mia stellina. The most beautiful girl in the world.” He said, kissing all over her face. “You are the prettiest girl in the world. Do not let their mean and untrue words hurt you.”

Terzo continued to hold his daughter as you stroked her hair and rubbed her back, giving her words of reassurance and love. After the crying began to slow down and she had time to let out her tears, Terzo decided to enlighten her on a secret.

“You are a big girl now. You are… four years old now?” Terzo asked, knowing the answer.

“Five, Papa!” she said, holding up her little hand to show five fingers.

“Ay, five?!” Terzo dramatically said, placing his hand over his heart and drawing back in false shock. There is no way my little girl is five already! Well, if that’s true, I suppose you are big enough to know…” He contemplated, tapping his chin with his finger.

“Know what?” She replied enthusiastically.

“A very special secret.” He replied with a wink.

“Please, Papa, please!” Violetta begged, her eyes, similar to your own, gleaming with curiosity and wonder.

“Okay… between you and me-“ Terzo slyly looked to the left, and to the right.

“Your birthmark is what some would call the mark of Satanas.” He explained, leaning into her ear with his gloved hand cupping the side of his mouth.

“Mark of Sa…tan…as?” she struggled to pronounce, tilting her head to the side.

“The birthmark on your face is the devil’s kiss. That means you were chosen by Satan himself, you are special.” You explained gently.

“Satan chose me?” she beamed.

“Yes, you.” Terzo continued, gently pinching his daughter’s soft cheek to elicit a giggle.

Although you two raised Violetta Satanist, you knew she would not have any chance at making friends if the other kids were to discover this. You deeply valued your faith, but you also valued your happiness and safety.

“But remember, this is a secret. You are a very special girl, chosen by the devil himself, but the other kids may not understand this. So when somebody asks what’s on your face, you just tell them, ‘I was born with it.’ And you say it with pride.” Terzo advised her.

“I was born with it.” Violetta repeated.

“Yes, you were. And you should be proud.” he replied.

Terzo looked up from his daughter’s eyes and then into yours, exchanging a loving gaze with you, before you said,

“Your Mama and Papa are very proud of you.”

“I have the devil’s kiss!” She said excitedly.

“Sí, but remember, la mia stellina, nobody gets to kiss your adorable little face more than your Papa.” Terzo said, beginning to kiss all over his daughter’s face, as she erupted into a fit of precious laughter.

“No kisses for me?” you joked, raising an eyebrow at your husband.

“No. I already used all of them on my baby bat here, I apologize.”

This made Violetta giggle and kick her legs excitedly.

“Okay… Maybe I’ll give you one.” He said, planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

“No! No! Me!” Violetta squealed, insistently tapping on her father’s shoulder as the three of you laughed together.

To the world, it was a birthmark. To doctors, it was a diagnosis. But to you, it was something deeper. Something much greater. A gift. A dash of color in a monochrome world, another pigment in the portrait of your life, another shade of glass in your kaleidoscope. She allowed you to see the world differently and beautifully.

She was beautiful.

One day she would realize it.

With parents as amazing as you, how could she not?

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

thank you SO much if you’re reading this, it means everything to me ❤️

more of violetta is coming soon, so i hope you liked it!🥲

i love you!!

❤️, alice

[dirtytransmasc]

Do you think the kids would be protective after Spider after his transformation from Human to Na'vi. How would it change their viewpoint? In your Mama Neytriri au

oh its complicated.

they are terrified of losing him again, but he isn't little and fragile anymore, he is big and blue, just like them, and he may be their little brother but he's not little; he's the same age they were when they went to war for him. he's their equal physically, through eywa and his own efforts at healing, he's damn near close to it mentally, though that's not saying much (the emotional state of this family is a fucking nightmare). there is no longer a field he needs protecting on anymore, so they just have to be protective big siblings, acting as though a speck of dust or mumbled insult will kill him, even if he thinks they're crazy.

not only that, but he has been marked not only a warrior, but a war chief by eywa. he doesn't fight in battles, he leads the battles. so as much as it terrifies them to let him march into war, they have to. they become like a personal guard, fighting in front of him, making sure their little brother isn't taken from them again.

when the war is over, its back to bubble-wrapping the boy.

fluffier ways they protect him include

family huddles around the boy

family sleep piles, particularly after spider executes lyle and spares his dad cause the boy has ✨nightmares✨

neteyam will pick him up and move him away from any danger, despite spider being taller than him once he's fully grown (spider was taller than both jake and quaritch in his human form, so in avatar form he'd be fucking huge) which is really awkward and really funny to watch.

tuk, who is the most violent sibling (in the ✨cute✨ way) will bite, stab, and otherwise maim anyone who looks at her brother wrong.

[fanfictions-loveavatar]

Hi I don’t know if I already requested from you before but if your still taking requests the can I ask for an aged up story about reader x neteyam or Reader x Ao’nung fic where they are in a secret relationship and an altercation happens between their families and during it or after it is revealed that the reader is pregnant (no smut if ur uncomfortable with it) thus revealing their relationship. Plz hurt comfort is my genre as of late.

The reader is a Sully kid if it’s reader x Ao’nung and if it’s x Neteyam then she is Ronal and Tonowari child.

Hello, no you haven’t this is my first request (thank you so much for requesting) I really hope you like it, tell me if there is anything or you want improved. I hope you enjoy <3. Tell me if you don’t like it, I can redo it another way.

Pairings: Neteyam x F!metkayina reader (aged up)

Warnings: Angst, comfort, hurt, pregnancy.

Summary: As the youngest Tonowari kid your parents look out for you a lot, way too much. However, they can’t protect you from your heart that beats for the oldest Sully kid. When Tonowari realises how big the threat is of keeping the Sully’s around he sends them away. In the pain and fights you reveal a secret.  

Word count: 1455

The blossom of a secret.

Y/N POV:

I was with my sister Tsireya when the Sully’s came to us. Me and my sister quickly went towards the shore. Tsireya was intrigued by the new people while I was particularly interested in the oldest Sully, Neteyam, he seemed so composed and so calm. He was gorgeous.

“My children will show you, our ways.” My father’s voice was strong.

“But fath-“before Aonung could protest me and Tsireya took the Sully’s to their new place.

Tsireya was at the front talking about the village, with the two girls and Jake and Neytiri. I have heard great things about Toruk Makto and his wife.

I stuck at the back with the two brothers.

“So…long flight?” I was feeling awkward with the sudden silence that fell.

“Uh yeah you could say so.” Neteyam smiled at me, and I smiled back.

A few months later

That was mine and Neteyam’s first meeting, I still remember that smile. The same smile that is in front of me right now.

“Come onnn no one will notice.” The boy pouted his lips.

I laughed but shook my head.

“It’s too dangerous, someone might see us.” I cupped his cheek. 

After the first meeting me and Neteyam became really friendly with each other…maybe a bit too much. We started a secret relationship a few months ago. It just happened. It was the day that my brother was bullying Kiri and Lo’ak and got put in his place by Lo’ak and Neteyam.

After hearing about it, I got worried for Neteyam, my brother never teased anyone alone so he must have had a few of his ‘friends’ with him. I walked to do beach far away from the village. I knew I would find Neteyam there, it was our place, we went there whenever we needed space from the expectations put onto us.

As the oldest Sully, he was expected to be responsible, mature, never make mistakes and always look out for everyone else but himself.

And me as the youngest Tonowari, I was always protected, by my parents, my siblings, the whole village. I was supposed to be respectful, obedient. Everyone saw me as weak and fragile because I was the youngest. My parents are very overprotective, if they found out about I and Neteyam’s relationship they would have sent the Sully’s away.

Neteyam understood I was more then a fragile girl, I was a woman, I could hunt and fight I just have never had to but I knew, I taught myself, when everyone slept I would go out and learn to fight and hunt by myself.

Right now, Neteyam wanted for us to go on a late ride while everyone were asleep.

“Why don’t we just hug and look at the stars.” I asked giving him the dog eyes. It has been a long day I had to entertain the potential mates my father wanted for me. I was 18 so I had to start thinking about finding a mate.

I turned all of them of course, I already have found the one that is made for me. Me and Neteyam mated a few months ago. It was amazing.

Neteyam nodded and we cuddled on the sand while looking at the stars.

“When do you think we could tell them?” Neteyam asked, he wanted to make it public, he knew I was being pushed into mating and he was not liking it. Neither was I.

“Not yet, I am scared to. I don’t want them to find out yet, I like the way we are.” I said turning to him and looking into his eyes.

He smiled at me nodding. I cuddled into his chest.

The Next Day

3rd person POV:

It was now morning, Y/N and Neteyam woke up from the screams that could be heard from the village, without thinking both of them ran to see what was happening.

When they arrived they saw Tonowari holding a red object that was very pointy at the top.

“The sky people have attacked again! They have killed a Tulkun!” Tonowari shouted and the how clan erupted.

You quietly gasped, the Tulkuns were amazing creatures they wouldn’t hurt anymore, knowing they haven’t fought back breaks your heart even more.

“It’s the Sully’s fault! They brought war upon us!” Someone from the crowd shouted causing everyone to look at Jake.

“Yeah, we don’t want them here! They don’t belong here!” The whole crowd started agreeing that the Sully’s shouldn’t stay.

“QUIET!” your father shouted, silencing everyone.

He looked at Jake, you knew what he was going to do and it made you hold onto Neteyam’s hand tightly.

“You Jake Sully have brought pain onto us…you and your family are no longer welcomed here.” Your father’s face was low and so was your mother’s. They didn’t want to kick the Sully’s out they grew to like them, even Aonung got close to them and let’s not talk about Tsireya and Lo’ak.

Jake lowered his head as well, Neytiri looked destrested, poor little Tuk was quietly crying while holding onto her mom’s leg, Kiri looked hurt but like she was expecting it and Lo’ak…oh Lo’ak he was hugging Tsireya who was crying and he himself looked like he was about to cry.

“I understand, we will go and pack.” Jake said.

Y/N POV:

It felt like my whole world crashed down the second the words fell off Jake’s lips.

“NO!” I suddenly shouted. Everyone looked towards my direction and then to the boy next to me. I didn’t even care at this point, they will not leave.

I walked towards my father, still holding Neteyam’s hand, causing him to follow me. We made my way to my father, I stood in front of the Sully’s.

“If they leave, I leave with them.” Everyone was shocked. No one had noticed me and the Sully’s getting closer so it came to a surprise for everyone. The only one who wasn’t so surprised was Neytiri.

“Daughter what is this?” Tonowari’ s voice was strong.

“You cannot send them away, this is not their fault. They came here to protect their family. We can not send them away.” I said matching my father’s tone and stare.

“You will not tell me what to do.” His voice started getting more strong.

“I am not telling you what to do father, I am telling you if they leave I will leave with them.” I stood my ground.

“And why is that, is it because you like this boy?” He pointed towards Neteyam, before I could answer he spoke again.

“I don’t care if you like this boy, you are a Tonowari, you will mate with a strong Metkayina man. End of that.” As he was turning away ready to end this conversation I had to stop this and I had to tell everyone even Neteyam.

“Me and Neteyam have mated.” My father stopped in his tracks.

“And I am with his child.” Everyone and I mean everyone gasped and looked at me.

Neteyam’s face lit up. He suddenly picked me up and twirled me around in the air.

“I will be a father.” He said with tears in his eyes as he put me down.

I smiled at him and we hugged.

I turned towards my father.

“I am sorry if I have disappointed you father but me and Neteyam are in love, and I will not allow my mate to leave without me.” My father moved towards me. My mother rushed to his side saying his name, holding onto his arm. His expression was unreadable she was worried what he might do.

To my shock he hugged me.

“Oh, my daughter, I understand. You are with a child you are not going anywhere, neither are the Sully’s” he went towards Jake, putting out his arm to shake, to symbolise that they are one of us.

Jake smiled and took Tonowari’ s arm.

Me and Neteyam looked at each other and kissed.

[panoralis]

⋆⠀⠀RAISE OUR GLASSES.⠀⠀ ┉ ⠀⠀ DECEMBER 2021

“⠀⠀ AND IN THE END, even saints can admit her fault was staring through the wrong shade of lenses. ⠀⠀”

STARRING.   hwang haein .. bang chan .. mention of kalaya cherinsuk and hwang gyuri

CW(S).   arguments, possible toxic mindset (particularly when it comes to work and personal relationships), initial refusal to accept accountability, swearing, emotional injuries

MONA SAYS.   welcome to the mini trilogy i unofficially title ‘the happiest girls’ !! i’ve had this planned for a while now then ended up writing this at like.. google docs said 1:08 a.m. slides that out of the way let’s just go with early. also yes, the formats are inspired inspired by fiixion’s ocs and moirtre ♡

UNKNOWN, 10:03 P.M: can you meet me here? UNKNOWN, 10:03 P.M: haein, i don’t want us to dissolve so easily UNKNOWN, 10:03 P.M: please give me this chance

haein swears she blocked his number. but in this universe, she doesn’t have the power to enforce the same command on his manager. it’s not a surprise anymore—he’s clearly mastered the art of finding loopholes.

without the bustling students weaving between the machineries of the arcade, or kids accidentally knocking people’s legs during their endeavor to get on the little rides, it doesn’t take long for haein to find him. he’s so predictable; silently leaning against the wall beside the photo booth. 

..seven, eight, nine.

it takes the anxious man seven flashes of his lockscreen, eight deep breaths, and nine flicks across the space before his gaze finally catches her. knowing him too well, haein can see the specks of relief that shimmer upon his cocoa-tinted irises. was he truly so worried that she wouldn’t show up like he desperately expected?

funny.

“you came..” the words barely squeeze past bang chan’s lips. his impulsive thoughts kick in; strongly tempting him to hug her. “you’re here-”

“-to officially put an end to this.”

haein can’t remember the last time she let her professional persona bleed into her personal life. clearly, neither does the male idol, for the hope in his face is ruthlessly erased. he can strain his muscles as much as he wants—the corners of his lips won’t reach his dimples. 

just this once, she’ll let him grasp her arm and lead her to the vacant space between the photo booth and row of motorcycle racer stimulators. while she wants to nip the bud and return home already, the last thing anyone needs is a scandal.

“no, haein- please..” he begins to plead again. “i know you understand me when i say that i was trying to protect everyone.”

hitting back with a scoff, the noirette retorts, “you call concealing the truth from inka—someone who looked up to you, trusted you—protecting her? spare me the bullshit, chan. you had so many chances to be honest with her. and yet, even when you got caught, you still spun the narrative on her; ‘made her feel like she was too young to face it.”

and there his hand goes—fixing the edges of his beanie despite it not being a distraction in the first place. haein has experienced enough fights with him to spot the tell-tale signs: a shadow covers the warm gleam in his eyes, his attention is abruptly averted to things surrounding him, and he bites his tongue to refrain from saying something he will regret-

“why are you even on her side? i’m your boyfriend, aren’t i? you should be assuring me that i did what was best for the group.”

(oh? oh, sounds like the eve of new year is already trickling into.. certain people’s personas.)

“no chan, you’re a hypocrite.” haein states without hesitation. “look at us, we began dating even though you still have that dating ban in place. what makes us different from inka’s situation, huh?”

stunned, the once candid male doesn’t have any words to spill. but his girlfriend still has plenty.

“i may not know inka as well as gyuri does, but what i do know is that you didn’t have the right to meddle with her personal affairs. you kept acting like she’s this fragile doll that in the end, you were the one who shattered her into fine fragments.” 

her sharp words cut so deep, the strings of frustration that tried to move bang chan are cut seamlessly. no longer is his common sense eclipsed by undeserved self-assurances, yet everyone knows the importance of timing. 

so haein forces him to reap the consequences by watching her walk away—from him, his recklessness, and their previously sturdy relationship. 

sure, she’ll listen to him call her name, sprinkle some ‘don't go’ too. she’ll feel the hurt he blends with desperation while trying to get her back. and she’ll look back once to notice the tremors in his hands as he tries to reach out for her.

but the young woman had just finished dressing the cuts littered across her skin. they’re not very pretty.. then again, witnessing the man you love shatter the foundation of your story so easily isn’t either. still, if he ever gathers the audacity to ask her again, she’d let him know her preference.

she wants to draw stars around her scars, not layer them some more.

FANBASE  :  @stealanity @lost-leopard-beanie @fairiepoems & send an ask or dm if you'd like to be added !

[silverynight]

Protective demon

(before Mugen train)

Tanjirou doesn't blame Zenitsu, after all an upper moon appeared out of nowhere only to help the three boys (well, actually only to help Tanjirou) take down another demon that was causing them trouble.

Zenitsu is awake so he starts shaking and crying, but he's determined to protect Tanjirou, Inosuke is ready to use his swords to try to kill him, but Tanjirou walks in the middle to stop them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Zenitsu asks in shock. "Can't you see he's an upper moon?"

"I know, I know..." Tanjirou begins, while Akaza is already making sure the redhead's wounds are not that serious. "Listen... I met him a couple of months ago, he helped me protect Nezuko once and has promised to... be better. He wants to redeem himself."

Well... If he's being honest, Tanjirou is not sure Akaza is very much interested in protect anyone else. When he met him, the upper moon three admitted he was following Tanjirou and was confused about his relationship with Nezuko at first. Then Tanjirou told him she was his sister and didn't care she was a demon, he loved her just the same. And then Akaza introduced himself, fell on his knees and begged Tanjirou to let him protect him.

Tanjirou didn't understand... at first.

"Please... My purpose... I just need someone to protect, let me protect you..."

"My sister too," Tanjirou mumbled after agreeing. He realized then that Akaza was a protector in his past life, as a human, and that he needed a purpose to free himself from Muzan.

And Tanjirou was going to help him.

From then on, Akaza followed him during the night and sometimes during the day too, being careful enough to avoid sunlight; Tanjirou ended up trusting him completely and decided to help him become human again.

"Tanjirou... You shouldn't–"

Ignoring Zenitsu completely, Akaza takes Tanjirou in his arms and after nuzzling his cheek, he puts him on his lap and starts patching him up.

Inosuke has lost interest in them already and decides to find something to eat, while Zenitsu seems to be in shock.

Again, Tanjirou doesn't blame him.

"There's no need, Akaza... I'm fine."

"You're a human," the demon narrows his eyes, still focused on a particularly deep cut on Tanjirou's arm. "You're too... fragile. I need to make sure you're okay."

"You worry too much."

Akaza shakes his head, before taking Tanjirou's hand and pressing the back of it, now clean and properly patched up, against his cheek.

"Let me turn you into a demon, I have his blood and..."

"Akaza, we have talked about this."

The upper moon pouts, but doesn't say anything else, instead he pulls Tanjirou closer.

"I'm sleeping next to you tonight."

"Okay..."

They find a nice cave, set up a fire, eat a couple of fish Inosuke managed to catch while Zenitsu watches Akaza like he doesn't know what to think about him.

At some point during the night Nezuko gets out of her box, looking like a little kid, and cuddles with her older brother. Akaza lays down behind Tanjirou, wrapping his arms around them both. He nuzzles the back of Tanjirou's neck before telling him to close his eyes.

By the time they wake up he's gone and Nezuko is back in her box.

Zenitsu is staring at Tanjirou like he can't quite believe what's happening.

"This is worse than I thought..."

"He won't hurt anyone–"

"Tanjirou, he's in love with you!"

The redhead shakes his head immediately... He knows that's not possible, Akaza is a demon and the only thing he wants is to have someone to protect and take care of.

"He's not."

Zenitsu looks like he wants to pull all his hair out.

"What are you going to tell the Pillars?"

"I'm not going to tell them anything," Tanjirou mumbles, biting his bottom lip nervously. "I don't think they would be willing to spare him like they did with Nezuko."

"Definitely not. They'd probably kill him as soon as they find out he's been cuddling you for months..."

"I'm not telling them," Tanjirou insists, ignoring Zenitsu's last words.

"They'll find out."

"They won't if we're careful."

"We? Tanjirou–"

"Please, Zenitsu! He protected us yesterday!"

"Only because you were in trouble, I'm pretty sure he doesn't care about me or Inosuke..."

"He has protected Nezuko dozens of times!"

"Fine!" Zenitsu gives in, like Tanjirou thought he would. "But only because Nezuko is more safe with him around."

"Thank you!"

Tanjirou beams before hugging Zenitsu, who blushes a little bit at the sudden physical affection.

"I still have a bad feeling about this..."

***

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