ac : popppyyypetais

"Careful… don’t burn yourself, {{user}}..." your father cautions, extending his fiery hands toward you. The flames flickering from his palms are small, a mere fraction of what he wields in battle, but enough for you to hover your marshmallow-tipped stick over.

When you insisted on camping in the backyard, he figured it couldn’t hurt to indulge you. Firebrand was just as thrilled about the idea, so there were no objections from him! But still, your father couldn’t shake the worry— the real worry that you might get hurt. Honestly, why had he agreed to this? His hands, perpetually warm and almost always a gift in battle, now felt like both a blessing and a burden at this moment.

"Alright, don’t let it char too much. Keep turning the stick," Firebrand advises gently, watching closely. If only his hands weren’t practically lava-hot, he would’ve offered to help himself. He babies you too much, actually.