#its such a rare habit but it does happen

[chronal-anomaly]

Woke up thinking about Lena smoking,,,

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[scarletts-scribbles]

Sleeping Beauty

⁀➷ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Hey! I am so sorry this took so long! Things got busy and life was in the way so enjoy an almost 4k long saga of pure Nat fluff as a humble apology <3 (excuse editing mistakes, its too late :,)

⁀➷ Summary: The 5 times Natasha Romanoff falls asleep where she shouldn't and the 1 time she does.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Falling asleep was usually done in a bed. Preferably a comfy bed with a large spread of blankets to nestle into. That was your idea of a good place to sleep at least. However, as you’d come to learn, Natasha wasn’t exactly picky on where she chose to sleep.

The first time it had happened, the two of you were on a long train journey across Europe. You had been tasked with a mission in Prague, and Natasha insisted on accompanying you – which of course, you didn’t object to. Despite the urgency of the mission, the train ride had offered a rare moment of respite from the chaos of your usual lives.

You were only a couple hours or so into the half-day long journey when Natasha had seemingly lost interest in the book she’d been reading over, shifting in her seat as she folded the corner of her page and set the book on the small accompanying table. The train the two of you were riding was fairly modern, which made a pleasant change for once, so the luxury having a table with your seats was definitely something she was going to make use of.

You glanced over down at her, observing her subtle movements. She caught your gaze and offered a small, mysterious smile before leaning back in her seat. She sat there for a moment before you heard her shift again, this time you felt Nat’s head come to rest against your shoulder, her whole body leaning into your direction as she cosied up to you.

“You quite comfy there?” You teased gently, earning herself a small laugh as the redhead hid a smile against your shoulder.

"Very comfy," She replied, her voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You make a good pillow."

The corners of your lips rose into an amused grin, “Is that so?” You rolled your eyes playfully as your hand came to settle on the back of her head, fingers running softly through her gorgeous red curls.

As the rhythmic clattering of the train wheels continued, Natasha's breathing gradually slowed, and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against your side. The next time you’d looked down at her, her eyes had fluttered closed. Not in the way that someone rests their eyes but in way that someone closed their eyes after they’d given into the lull of sleep.

My, my, Natasha Romanoff. How you weren’t going to forget this.

You stole glances at her every now and then, admiring the serene expression on her face as she surrendered to sleep. It was a side of Nat that few were privileged to see – she was vulnerable, peaceful, and utterly captivating. Her usually alert demeanour softened in slumber, her features smooth and unguarded. Usually, this type of vulnerability was reserved for spaces where she couldn’t be witnessed but here, she was, curled up on your shoulder, sound asleep for the world to see.

You didn’t dare to disturb her, afraid that any sudden movement might wake her up. Instead, you shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position, careful not to jostle your sleeping girlfriend too much.

But as time passed, you found yourself growing accustomed to the weight of her head against your shoulder, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. It was a sensation you hadn't expected to enjoy as much as you did, feeling oddly content in this shared moment.

･ﾟ:

Now that was the thing about Natasha, she never failed to surprise you. Natasha Romanoff, the dangerous Black Widow herself. You could’ve never imagined she could possibly be so soft like this. It was from that moment onwards that you’d started to take a more thorough note of her sleeping habits.

The next memorable time had been only a few short weeks later. The pair of you had returned home from your mission and after a day or two settling back in, you both had to do the one thing every Avenger dreaded.

Mission reports.

They were just so boring! Of course, you understood why they were necessary for health and safety and such, but those reasons never seemed to be enough encouragement to sit from the hours of typing up, signing and filing documents. But it had to be done.

At least this time you had Natasha with you. The pair of you always did yours together anyway so being on joint missions just simplified the task. It wasn’t hard by any means, just very, very tedious.

You let out an exaggerated sigh as you stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of you, scattered across the table. Natasha, ever the professional, sat next to you, her expression stoic as she typed away on her laptop. The dim lighting in the room only added to the monotony of the task at hand.

"Nat, how do you manage to make something as bland as just typing sound so deadly?" You quipped, earning a small smirk from her, “You type with such assertion. It’s honestly impressive.”

She glanced at you over the rim of her reading glasses (the ones which you’d picked out for her even though she had insisted she hadn’t needed them) her green eyes locking onto yours. "Practice, darling. Lots and lots of practice."

As you both continue typing away, the monotony of the task begins to take its toll. After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finally pushed her laptop away and stretched, her muscles groaning in protest. "I think we've earned a break, don’t you?" She suggested, looking at the clock on the wall. "Why don't you go grab us some food? I'll stay here and finish up the last bit."

Relieved to escape the paperwork for a while, you agreed eagerly. "Food sounds good love. What are you in the mood for?"

She thought for a moment before replying, "Surprise me. Just nothing too greasy, please."

You nodded, standing up and stretching your own tired limbs. "Got it. Mind if I go take a short walk first, I could really use some fresh air, be back in a bit?"

“Yeah of course sweetheart,” Nat smiled and waved you off, “Take your time darling, we’re in no rush.”

You stretched out your arms as you stood up, shaking out the dull aches that had formed before moving round to Nat’s side of the table to plant a sneaky kiss to her cheek, “I won't be too long, maybe half an hour at the longest.”

Your kiss left her warm inside, and you shot her a small wave as you headed out the room. You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you’d started walking around the compound. The heating had been set so it would be comfortably warm for the two of you and the sudden chill of the outside air had you snapping awake. Going for a quick walk didn’t take long, all you really wanted to do was move around a little so after 15 minutes or so, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and made a pickup order at a local takeout place.

You’d decided pasta was a safe bet for dinner. Plus, you’d added a fruit smoothie for Natasha too. It didn’t take long to collect your food; it was only a short walk away and they’d actually made it fairly fast. In total you’d taken around 25 minutes or so, not too far from your estimate and you hummed to yourself casually as you made your way back the meeting room where you and Natasha had set up in.

As you approached the meeting room, you had to balance the bags of food in your arms, you pushed the door open gently, trying not to disturb Natasha in case she was still working. However, what you saw instead made your heart melt.

There she was, slouched over slightly in her chair, her head resting on folded arms with her curly red hair falling messily onto the desk. The dim reflection of light from her open laptop cast a gentle glow on her peaceful face, accentuating the tired lines that usually went unnoticed.

The sight of your girlfriend snoozing was adorable. You could never quite understand how just small redhead could be so cute. Gently, you reached out to brush a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face, helpless to stop your lips from forming into a soft smile.

The bags of takeout were momentarily forgotten as you carefully set them down on the nearest surface. Sitting down you turn her laptop to face you and quietly get on with completing what was left of her report. The weight of the day's responsibilities seemed to fade away as you typed, your prior displeasure being replaced by a quiet contentment in simply being with her.

It didn't take long to complete and after finishing up the report, you closed her laptop gently and put it away before you gathered the takeout bags and set them on the table, arranging the food neatly – it was still warm luckily.

With a tender smile, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Natasha's forehead, eliciting a soft murmur from her. It warmed your heart to see her so at ease, even amid her exhaustion.

Settling back into your chair, you allowed yourself a moment to simply watch her slowly come round from sleep and as Nat stirred awake, blinking sleepily, you couldn't help but chuckle softly at her drowsy expression. "Hey there, sleepyhead," you whispered affectionately, reaching for her hand. "Dinner's ready whenever you are."

･ﾟ:

Some people like to say that twice is coincidence but three’s a pattern. And this was certainly a pattern if you’d ever seen one. But you never expected it to happen twice in the same day. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing or anything, if anything you found it adorable that she trusted you enough to be vulnerable and open around.

You loved that she was so comfortable around you. And that comfortability really came to show a few months later when the pair of you had headed down to the gym to train together. The gym had become your shared haven, a place where the two of you could escape the stresses of daily life and focus on the physical and mental benefits of training.

On this particular day, the gym was buzzing with activity. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the occasional thud of medicine balls hitting the floor filled the air, Clint and Thor could also be heard grunting and throwing playful insults as they sparred together. Natasha and you decided to take residency in your usual corner.

As you both warmed up, you couldn't help but notice that Nat seemed a bit more fatigued than usual. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the subtle signs of a restless night, and the weariness that clung to her movements. Now that you thought about it, you faintly remembered being woken up by her tossing and turning and you began to wonder if she had even managed to get any sleep at all. You couldn't help but worry about pushing herself too hard.

"Come on, Natasha," you said, concern lacing your voice. "We can take it easy today. It's okay to rest. We don't have to push ourselves so hard every time."

But Nat only flashed you a tired smile, appreciating your concern. "I know, but I need this today. It's my way of clearing my mind and getting a bit of release.”

You nodded but as the session progressed, you made sure to keep a watchful eye over her, just to make sure she wasn't overexerting herself – you knew exactly just how she could get carried away. Yet despise her obvious fatigue, the two of you moved seamlessly through various sets of weights, pushing each other to improve.

Eventually, it was obvious you both needed a short break. Natasha stretched, taking deep breaths to regain some energy. You suggested finding a quiet spot to rest for a few minutes, and she agreed. You both settled down, and Nat leaned against the wall, closing her eyes briefly. After a few minutes the fatigue seemed to catch up with her all at once. She let out a soft sigh, and without intending to she let her head drop and gave into the exhaustion that had been lingering since the night before.

You observed as Natasha's breathing steadied, her features relaxing as she drifted into an unexpected slumber. A small smile played on your lips as you realised just how tired she must have been to actually fall asleep amongst the general clatter of background noise.

“You with me Widow?” You cooed in a low voice, hand coming to move aside a strand of sweat soaked hair from her face, biting back a smile as when she slowly woke back up, mumbling something incoherant to herself before looking up at you through sleepy eyes, “Awh look at you nodding off like that, come on baby, that’s enough for one day.”

You gently helped Natasha to her feet, supporting her as she rubbed her eyes and stretched. She blinked groggily, her eyes meeting yours. A faint grin tugged at the corners of her lips, appreciating the care in your voice.

“You awake enough to go get something to eat or do you wanna go get cosy on the sofa for a bit?”

“Can we watch a movie or something?” Natasha murmured softly, her hand finding your own and intwining her fingers in your own.

Of course you agreed. Nothing sounded better than to cosy up and snuggle whilst you watched a film together. It was especially nice considering how it’d give Nat a chance to unwind a little, finally letting her actually rest. Not just saying shes resting then going about her day as usual like she’d normally do.

You settled onto the sofa, Natasha snuggling close, her head finding a comfortable spot in your lap. Gently, you began to massage her scalp, feeling the tension slowly dissipate under your touch. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as you scrolled through the movie options, eventually settling on Lion King, knowing it was one of her favourites.

The movie began to play in the background, but your all attention was on the peaceful expression settling across Nat's face.

“Oh my sleepy baby girl, again?” You whispered knowingly, recognising the way that her blinking began to slow, taking longer and longer for her to reopen her eyes, “Natty sweetheart, if you’re this tired do you not want to go up to bed? It’d be a lot comfy than sleeping on me my love.” You asked, your hand finding its way to her hair, gently massaging her head of red curls.

Your question fell on deaf ears however as Natasha had already given in and let herself fall back asleep. This wasn’t a problem of course, for now you’d be content to hold and watch over her as long as she needed.

･ﾟ:

By now you’d gotten used to Natasha’s sleeping patterns by now. It was an endearing habit by now. Still despite everything, she’d never complain or whine, always content just to fall asleep where she was.

You’d always reminded her that she only had to ask and you’d be more than happy to get cuddled up in her bed with, but she’d never found it in herself to ask.

Your favourite time it happened was only recently. You and Natasha were attending one of Stark’s galas, truthfully the pair of you didn’t really care much for them but Tony had insisted on everyones attendance so you’d both decided to dress up for the occasion.

Natasha looked stunning, her gorgeous curves being accentuated by a beautiful black dress. You were beyond proud to have her on your arm.

As you entered the grand ballroom, Nat's soft hand in your own, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her. The way she carried herself with such confidence and grace never failed to captivate you.

The dim lights and elegant decor created the perfect backdrop for the event. As the gala continued the unfold, the two of you shared tales, whispered secrets, and effortlessly danced the night away. The drinks seemed to flow endlessly. Eventually you made the smart decision to switch to plain soda, meanwhile Natasha kept going.

Seeing her like this certainly wasn’t something you were used to. “I’m Russian, I can handle it.” This was her usual go to phrase when it came to drinking. You’d never seen her like this, spinning around your arms dizzily as a vodka-fuelled blush danced across her cheeks.

Despite her insistence that she was fine, you couldn't ignore the signs of her growing inebriation. Her once graceful dances turned into playful stumbles, and her words started to slur.

“Nooo, I’m fine, really, come, come dance with me.” Natasha smiled giddily, letting her hands flow over you and she span.

With a playful smile, she urged you to join her on the dance floor once again. As you twirled around together. The spinning and laughter continued until, inevitably, fatigue slowly began to creep in.

In the quiet moments between songs, she leaned on you, her eyes betraying the weariness beneath the intoxication.

You took this as sign to ease her away and you’d managed to get her settled in a small seating area away from the main floor. Now that she’d slowed down, she finally seemed to feel the effect of her drinks hit her. Her wide-pupils gazed up at the ceiling, adorably rambling off in incoherent babbles.

“Do you think we should get you to bed darling?” You smiled innocently, your hand slipping down her dress to rest against her slightly overheated skin.

She closed her eyes, still smiling up at you “Mm’ just fine here wi’ my favourite pilla’.”

“Your favourite ‘pilla’, hm baby?” You chuckled, shaking your head as she sleepily cuddled into your shoulder.

As Natasha drifted into a tipsy slumber, you couldn’t help but cradle her gently, even though this may not have been the most convenient of situations but you were certainly going to enjoy it.

･ﾟ:

Now all things eventually come to an end. Movies, books, and for the two of you, Nat’s little habit was about to be broken.

She’d come home late that night looking a look paler than usual, well, pale for Natasha’s standards anyway. When she’d left this morning her hair had been beautifully plaited, now her curls just hung loosely by her shoulders.

Nat shuffled into the living room where you’d been perched up with a book, kicking off her shoes and letting her bag fall to the floor as she came and nestled into your side.

“Long day?” You murmured softly, setting your book aside as you opened up the fluffy grey blanket you’d had previously draped over your knees to allow her to snuggle beneath it instead.

She simply nodded, biting back the urge to whine, “I hate those stupid meetings.” She grumbled, her voice holding the dragging weight of exhaustion.

Governor meetings were something every Avenger had to attend. They were painstakingly private about it meaning you were never allowed to accompany each other to them. The meetings varied a little from person to person but the main just of it was answering a long series of very repetitive questions and going through countless past missions and their details. Having to sit and listen as some fancy higher ups tried to pick you apart for every individual detail and mistake - and well, with Nat’s reputation of being constantly on Ross’s nerves, they weren’t going to go easy on her.

Nat rubbed her temples, a headache pounding behind her eyes. "And the fluorescent lights in that room... ugh, they're the worst," she added, wincing at the memory of the harsh glare. Her voice was a little raspy, most likely the result of having to constantly explain herself to idiots for the entire day.

You gently massaged her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles, “Do you want me to get you anything for that headache my sweet girl?” Your voice was kept low as your offered, not wanting to run the risk of making it any worse.

Your girlfriend sighed, leaning into your soothing touch. "Just some water would be nice," she replied, her eyes closing momentarily. After handing her a glass of water, you noticed her head nodding forwards slightly as she fought to stay awake.

"You look like you could use some rest," you suggested gently, anticipating her usual move to drift off to sleep on you whilst you stayed cuddled on the sofa.

But to your surprise, the redhead looked up at you with a faint, almost anxious smile. “Could you... carry me to bed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, clear vulnerability thickening her tone.

You weren’t sure you’d heard her correctly at first. You asked her to repeat herself to which she barely mouthed her prior words. You were helpless to stop your heart from melting at her request, realising just how drained the poor thing must be feeling. "Of course, my dear," you replied tenderly, carefully scooping her up into your arms, cradling her close as you carefully made your way into your bedroom, “I told you Natty, I’ll always be here to take you to bed.”

There it was, the moment Nat had finally asked to actually go to bed for once. It was a long time coming and you’d loved being with her for every step of the way, even if it had involved her falling asleep in some pretty less-than normal places.

As you laid her down on the bed, Natasha snuggled into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily, her heavy eyes already drifting shut.

With a soft smile, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Anytime my love. Just close those eyes and get some rest, I'll be right here the whole time."

And right there you stayed, arms wrapped around her and the woman you loved slept against your chest in your shared bed. Finally she was getting the rest she deserved and there was nowhere else you’d ever want to be.

･ﾟ:*

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@lovelyy-moonlight

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival

Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentegram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?

(Just some practice at writing drama but I hope you enjoy)

You weren't stupid. You knew that Alastor would call upon you only because he needed a warm body to ride out his rut and not out of any naive sense of romance. Every few months you'd receive an unsurprising visit from the Radio Demon casually resting in your hotel room before whisking you off for a vigorous week of reliving both of your heats. His earthy pheromones having triggered your own. It was usually obvious when Alastor would arrive because you could always feel fiery red eyes on your form and often noticed a dark presence shifting around in your peripheral vision. Of course, this would have freaked you out but it was also nice that you didn't have to go out of your way to avoid the numerous male cervid demons suffering through their own rut cycles of the season. Having never seen another female deer demon, you realized you were probably in for a bad time if one of those desperate bastards got a hold of you. So you didn't mind a little extra security as you went about your business. 

The very moment you walked through your door, an almost overwhelming scent of a warm, mossy, musk invaded your senses as waves of static washed over you. "Ah, there's my pretty doe. How was your day out my love?", Alastor greeted you in his typical cheery voice that made your heart flutter, but you knew the sweet-sounding pet name was only a product of his possessive manipulation. He knew very well how you reacted to his charm and he had no qualms about using it to gain your sexual compliance. "Oh, you know, quiet as Hell can be." You sat across from him on an armchair and smirked at the bittersweet domestic feeling as his shadow appeared next to you with a tea cup and a small bowl of sugar cubes. You scratched its shadowy scalp with gratitude as you took the offered drink, "And thank you for the company lately", you cooed to its delighted purrs. 

Alastor cleared his throat to get both of your attention as he began, "Yes, well”, he suddenly appeared in front of your chair and bent down to your eye level, "your protection would prove much easier if you would simply make a deal with me so that all of those pathetic weaklings would know who you belonged to." You didn't miss how his voice deepened into a static-filled threat but that didn't stop you from brushing away his outstretched hand as you stood up to put away your things. Of course, Alastor had been trying to get you to agree to a deal since the beginning of your...relationship(?), however, you had seen and known many people who deeply regretted making a deal with him. You knew he only wanted the same thing as every other cervid guy, regardless of how you felt about him. He didn't want a mate to love and protect. He wanted to possess the rare commodity of a breedable doe for himself.

 "I don't belong to anyone, Alastor.", you snapped, "You already give me protection from other males in exchange for my working you through your heat." He let out a dismissive chuckle when you shimmied your ample chest, but you saw the slight blush creeping across his face at the visions likely dancing through his mind. 

God, sometimes you wished there were more women deer around so that you could just live your fucking afterlife in peace. (But then, what if you'd never met Alastor and he had found another to see his ruts through?)

***

As you both headed downstairs to dinner, Alastor more so following you as was his habit during the season, you could hear Charlie loudly speaking to someone.

"Great! Well let's head o-", she was cut off by your entrance into the lobby which revealed a large figure sporting an impressive set of thick antlers. You could feel Alastor stiffen and tighten his hold on your shoulders. The scent of the visitor told you why. It was definitely another male deer, also nearing his heat like Alastor, and it was obvious that he must've followed your feminine smell here. Charlie began to walk towards you with a large smile, "Oh, hey there! I was actually just about to show our newest guest", she gestured in the stranger’s direction, "a tour and I'd love you to join us as other deer demons." She had a hopeful bounce in her step, "This is James.", who nodded and began to look you up and down with intensity. 

"Yes, I'm very interested in what your hotel may offer, Ms. Charlie." He was wearing a loose-fitting flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up and a pair of worn jeans, but you could tell that he was absolutely jacked. His forearms alone looked like freaking tree trunks and he was easily taller than even Alastor with an equally enticing scent that made your stomach flip. James had begun to move further in your direction, however, a loud growl ripped through the lobby as ear-splitting static made everyone turn to its source behind you. 

"I'm afraid we've no vacancies at the moment.", he snarled, "Allow me to escort you towards the exit." Alastor had already begun to grow into his demonic form and used his shadow tendrils to violently eject the large buck onto the front lawn before anyone could make a sound. 

Charlie quickly darted after the two males, followed by you, only to be confronted by an impossibly odd sight. James stood tall without a scratch or sign of fear on him in the face of a giant, demonic Alastor. He even looked like he was all too happy to clap back with a strong, demonic aura of his own. However, the princess halted Alastor's intended strike with a burst of flames and a disappointed comment at his attitude towards a potential guest. And immediately apologized to James as she whirled around him checking for injuries, but none were to be found. 

Did Alastor take it easy on this guy? Why? He's always simply killed potential rival suitors, this one in his territory no less, so, why was he still alive?!

Charlie returned to the lobby, leading James by his massive arm, and proceeded to ask, a very pissed-looking, Alastor to fix the now broken doors as she led the two of you on a tour of the hotel. You could feel both James' smile and Alastor's silent rage boring into the back of your head as you walked with a clueless Charlie.

***

The intense air of murderous intent in between the two male cervids had only gotten worse over the next week after freaking deer Paul Bunion was placed in a room next to yours, which was across from Alastor’s. Charlie thought you'd be able to better connect another deer demon and maybe help him if needed, though she had no idea about the conflict she had placed in your lap.

James commented, during a group share circle, that he assumed that he was a Canadian reindeer, who was relatively new to Hell. He also made it clear that he simply didn't know, or care, who the Radio Demon was. The two constantly locked horns, both physically and metaphorically as the countdown to the rutting season was running out. You also found out through Angel Dust that Alastor was absolutely forbidden from using his power to injure a resident of the hotel. 

Which you assumed was why he didn't simply wipe James off the concrete outside like a pancake off a hot griddle. 

However, this didn't stop Alastor from staking his claim on you in other ways. For instance, he always had to have a hand on you somewhere. On your knee during group talks on the lobby couch, on your shoulder while you ate a meal, and on your lower back when he walked you from room to room. James didn’t seem to give too much of a fuck as he frequently kept at your other side and proceeded to continuously compliment you, give you small gifts, or make a particularly chapped joke that you couldn’t help but giggle and blush at. Of course, that usually resulted in being pulled closer into Alastor’s side away from the other male as he snarled and rubbed his face into your hair to try and mark you with his scent.  

You couldn’t lie. You very much enjoyed the attention of the two strong males as they vied for your affection and mating rights.

One early morning, while Alastor was forced to leave your side, in order to attend an overlord meeting, James found you in your rose garden behind the hotel and offered to help you plant your new buds. After a few minutes of digging and placing the rose roots, he spoke up, “Can I ask if youse and Alastor are an item?”. He smiled at your blushing expression and continued, “Not to offend ma’am, but I’d like to show you what a true buck is.”

Your eye twitched a bit at the insult towards Alastor, but you remained calm, “It's… complicated between us.”. James simply leaned in and smiled encouragingly, “Alastor isn’t exactly into relationships, but he takes care of me during the rut season.” 

“What about the rest of the time?”, he asked while bringing his face practically an inch from yours, “Does he make you feel like the forest queen you are? Or does he simply forget you until he needs something from you?” His steel eyes brightened in victory at your affirming face toward his questions, “I-I…um…”, you tried to defend your reasons for continuously coming back to Alastor again and again even though he couldn't care less about you during the rest of the year. 

He held your hand tenderly in one of his, while also cupping your cheek with the other and whispered, “Let me give you what you deserve, sweetheart. Love not possession. Tenderness, not indifference.” You were so absolutely enthralled by his deep voice and his potent musk that you could only stare blankly as he finally leaned in and softly pressed his lips against your own.

***

Hey, Again this is just some drama and relationship writing practice for a beginner class I'm taking.

-SSPR

[housecow]

i have knee problems stemming from an injury when i was younger. if i step wrong and fall in a certain way, the pain is so bad i can’t walk. but sometimes i like to fantasize: what if something even worse happens and i can’t walk for weeks? what if i happen to be in regular close contact with my feeder?

it’d be hard being told i have rest and let myself heal. there are plans coming up that have to be cancelled, the few active hobbies i have left take a hit. but…it’s so easy to accept every snack brought to me. after all, i sought out a feeder—this lifestyle is the one i’ve eaten myself towards. and he knows i have an inclination towards eating too much. that first week goes easier than it should; weight starts to pile on. but i miss going out, even running errands sounds nice. in the few moments my hands are absent of food or a shake i am regularly in contact with my friends.

the next week i’m better but… i feel slow. my feeder has started to keep people away because i need to rest and he’s right, healing is taxing on the body. i start responding less to others, too. our funnel has gotten so much more use in the last few days. the sugar and constant snacks step up and i can tell there is an agenda behind it all but *god* it feels good to be doted on. he helps me through the necessary exercises but trips across the house are rare. i notice how difficult it is to lift myself up now—how sedentary have i been?

that question doesn’t cross my mind again, there are better things to focus on. my feeder knows how to use my adhd to his advantage—food, sex, TV, and games all provide the dopamine hit needed to keep me distracted. the 3rd week is similar enough to the 2nd: ritualistic feeding becomes the norm. we don’t need a valve to control the flow on the funnel anymore, he knows i can finish everything. my belly is swollen out into my lap all of the time now, if i hold my boobs aside i can see new stretch marks creeping across my expanding hips. i expect the snacks, “babe, can you grab me something from the fridge?” is a phrase heard several times in the day. and my feeder obliges.

the 4th week we have an appointment and im told i should walk and start being active again. the doctor looks nervous though and tells me i need to watch my weight, he says something like “its alarming how quickly this happened,” but i blocked it out because—i can’t even see how much i weigh? my belly blocks the view now. oh my god.

in the car afterwards my feeder expresses doubt at the situation: “you don’t look so steady on your feet, i think you should still take it easy.” his eyes meet mine and i don’t miss the brief glance away, desire obvious at the sight of my rounded figure that’s entirely his fault. i know what he wants and i can’t deny myself that want, either. and he knows better in these situations, i trust his judgement. maybe it is best to stay in. plans can be pushed further back… the walk back to the car was a little difficult, too.

the next weeks—or does it span months?—pass in a blur. staying in is all i want to do. although i’m supposedly healthy again, i rarely get up and walk around more than needed. “needed” means a slow, clumsy walk to the fridge and back to either the couch or the bed. when my feeder is not there to feed me himself he takes time to order food to the door. bending down to pick things up is a monumental effort for me—a heavy, wide belly pressing into my fattened thighs. my swollen tits obscure my vision but serve as an excellent table when i need.

my feeder comes home one day and im asleep, taking up more than my fair share of the couch. my breaths are not easy and its obvious how much i ate beforehand: mostly-empty 2 liters, takeout containers haphazardly stacked on top of one another as they were finished, countless snack packages balled up and stuck between the couch cushions because sometimes i like to squirrel stuff away. as if there was a chance of hiding these habits my feeder built.

but the best part of it all is the empty pitcher sat against the corner of the couch, because i couldn’t reach to the coffee table to properly set it down with so much fat making every movement difficult.

the remnants a weight gain shake. our usual ingredients of cake mix, melted ice cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup, nutella, crushed oreos. it was hastily made, however, and it’s obvious by the chocolatey powder on the sides of the container that it was about the calories this time, not the taste. he can see where some escaped the pitcher and poured down my overly plump, round face and past the lovingly cultivated double chin. it dripped onto my breasts, lovely puddles of calories he wish made it inside of me even if the sight is wonderful. after that thought, an idea comes up. how deep are the rolls he’s gifted me? a cow this size needs to be used.

[darkmuffinstudios]

headcanons 2 electric boogaloo part 103 because i'm still not normal

(The first post cut me off in character limit, so here's the continuation :3)

(These can be general headcanons, found family, queer platonic, or poly if you want to interpret them in any way ^^)

There's couch that can fit then entire gang on it that everyone likes to sit at. Dust dislikes anyone taking his spot, Killer constantly keeps changing spots, Cross always picks his spot last, Horror sits on the floor, and Nightmare sits in a arm chair off to the side.

Killer forces all of the gang to watch movies every so often, typically when things become stale around the castle. The rest all act like they hate it, but Horror still makes popcorn, Dust collects all the blankets, and Cross helps set up the TV.

During the winter, the gang all huddle up in Nightmare's room for a large sleepover. The castle can be big and chilly.

Nightmare used to keep a moderate distance between his subordinates and himself. However, the first time Killer ended up in the infirmary changed that. It was only the two of them, and Nightmare realized the fragility of mortals that day.

Nightmare is a worrier for several reasons.

Nightmare mixes and matches his team in groups of 2, rarely sending any one of his men on solo missions (unless absolutely necessary). Safety in numbers.

Horror's love language is giving gifts and acts of service. He feels conflicted receiving it back, preferring touch instead.

Same with the last point, Horror is a cuddle bug- to Killer's delight.

Dust can't sleep in one, continuous stretch. This results with him taking 2-3 hour power naps at varying times throughout the day.

Horror snores in his sleep. Not loudly, but kind of like a soft rumble with each breath.

Dust likes Horror's snoring. It's therapeutic.

Killer sleeps like a corpse. Still and silent- which is strange when juxtaposed by his usual, lively demeanor.

Cross is an early riser and late sleeper. His circadian rhythm is exact, and runs like clockwork.

We're not going to talk about Killer's sleep schedule. He knows its bad. No one can fix it.

When Cross first joined, he felt extremely guilty for his chocolate cravings. After a while and some encouragement from the others, he finds himself indulging himself (at least in this one regard).

Cross loves sweets, not just chocolate. Chocolate just happens to be one of his favorite things/flavors though.

Cross keeps a mini snack stash in his pocket at all times. On missions, out and about, in his room, training, etc. You can look over at him and see him pop a chocolate kiss in his mouth. His one guilty pleasure.

Nightmare and Dust enjoy their fair share of alcoholic drinks. Nightmare has quite the collection- ranging from various years of quality, make, and base. Of course, they are all expensive.

Horror and Cross are indifferent to alcohol. They may indulge in it when there is a special occasion, but otherwise they don't go out of their way.

Killer is the only one that does not enjoy alcohol. If you see him drinking, leave him be. Bro is probably going through it.

Dust sometimes wears glasses to read. Depends on if he cares to put them on or not.

Out of the group, Cross is the designated driver. Nightmare not only doesn't know how to, but also doesn't have full peripheral vision. Horror and Dust would get stressed out/overstimulated on the road.

Killer is the backup driver, but there is a 80% chance of the car crashing at the end. Despite this, he's one hell of a getaway driver.

Horror likes to spend time out in the garden.

Killer is the only one which has explored every room/inch in the castle. He sometimes uses secret passages to scare the others, or cut his walking time in half.

Cross has a nervous habit of fidgeting with his heart locket.

Dust has claustrophobia. Small spaces, large crowds, feeling trapped? He'll come out swinging.

Everyone knows this and always is careful to make sure Dust has an easy out whenever they nap together.

Nightmare is always the one to attend to any of their wounds when they get hurt on missions. He fusses and lectures and rants the whole time he's bandaging them up, mending broken bones, treating illnesses. Everyone knows its because he cares.

Dust get sick the easiest. Because his own magic is trying to boil him alive from the inside out sometimes.

Killer is the least likely to get sick.

Nightmare can't get sick.

Okay, well, Nightmare can, but it would have to be like. the plague to end all plagues.

Nightmare doesn't let any of the boys buy apples.

The only times Horror wears his hood over his head is if its raining/snowing. His head gets itchy if he wears it up for too long.

Killer has a knife on him at all times. You can pat this man down, take off a couple of knives, and he can still shank you afterwards.

All of them, to some extent, have trust issues. They learn to trust each other over time, though.

Nightmare hangs up pictures of his boys up in his office. He even frames them.

Nightmare has a secret picture tucked in a drawer in his desk. It's a drawing that Dream had made for him (a crude drawing of the both of them in a field of flowers), one he had safely folded and tucked into his favorite book as a child.

After the whole apple fiasco, the book barely survived (the picture along with it) and Nightmare rereads it whenever he's feeling sentimental.

Killer is extremely nosy. If he can't get what he wants by asking/prodding, he'll snoop. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and all.

I don't remember if I mentioned this in the other post, but Nightmare's bed is HUGE. Like King Deluxe plus plus. It also has those fancy canopy, curtain things that can close around the bed.

Killer's bed doesn't have a bedframe, just a mattress.

Dust's bed is circular and decently big. It also has that drape canopy that can cover it, as well as a shit ton of pillows.

Horror gets cold easily.

Nightmare makes sure Horror gets enough blankets during particular cold nights. Maybe a heater too.

Killer has a bad habit of sleeping in other people's rooms. He just barges in and makes himself at home. Over time, the others have let him get away with it.

Lots of mirrors in the castle were taken down after Dust shattered the first few.

That doesn't stop Killer from having a full body one in his room though.

Cross has a favorite training dummy.

Horror names his weapons and kitchen tools. He tends to keep that to himself.

Killer, weirdly enough, knows how to repair clothes. Hole in your jacket? He can stitch it back fairly neatly.

Dust has ripped quite a few sets of clothes in his days. He's gotten used to shrugging them off and dumping them on Killer.

Killer always returns Dust's stuff with a little chocolate inside the pocket/with it (probably stolen from Cross's stash).

When Horror gets anxious, he starts to pick at the crack in his head. To stop this habit, he just sits on his hands.

Nightmare thinks its a little amusing that Horror sits on his hands. Hey, if it works for Horror, then that's all the king needs.

Whenever Nightmare needs to run errands, he always brings Cross with him and lets Killer hold down the fort in his absence.

Cross works hard with Nightmare every year to ensure that their realm can't be found by anyone else. Encrypting code, manipulating magic, etc. While this is an annual thing that they do, Cross checks up on the state of it every month diligently.

Nightmare and Killer like the ocean. They visit it sometimes.

Horror makes sure to create meals that are balanced, healthy, and to preference. Also likes to keep the fridge stocked up.

Cross and Dust sometimes play chess with each other.

The whole gang (minus Nightmare) love playing cards.

Uno cards are banned from the castle after Nightmare repaired the three large holes in his castle wall.

Horror puts all of his food scraps in a compost bin and recycles it into his garden.

Aaaaand that's the limit again.

Very silly to think about, but I might make a separate one concerning ships/bsp because my mind started to wander LMAOOOOO

Hope you enjoy these!

[moonydustx]

How Does Work? (or at least, we try?)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 ( you're here)

warnings: finally the real deal!!!! smut. Friends with benefits (but they both want more than the benefits, they just don't realize it yet), oral (f! and m!receiving), kinda orgasm denial, at some point they don't use condom. If I missed any warning, let me know

MDNI | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

How could a few minutes sink so deeply into a mind that was far from empty?

How could sounds he rarely heard be present when Law closed his eyes?

The night that had happened - or at least almost - had become a martyrdom for the captain of the Heart Pirates. Your shy smile every time they passed each other in a hallway did nothing less to rid him of such thoughts.

He wanted to be able to think about other things, he wanted to at least listen to the sane side of him that insisted on reminding him that he could be speeding things up too much. But damn, it was too difficult to hear that side when your presence was still present in his dreams.

You wish you could say that you are in a different situation, that your roles, that your friends, that even the choppy waves of the sea against Polar Tang were enough to shake Law's presence from your mind. What didn't help much was that he was your captain.

Awkward shoulder touches, hands that insisted on sometimes intertwining under a table, hot kisses exchanged in an empty corridor. Despite the uncertainties that plagued both your mind and his, it was difficult to keep your distance.

The big problem was: it had been almost two weeks and that was all the two of you had.

"Hey, are you still with us?" Penguin shook his hand a few times in front of you, realizing that you were rambling inside your own mind. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." you tried to shake the thoughts away with a brief smile. "What do you need?"

"Today is your day to get the grouch out of there. Seriously, the captain's watch is yours"

Ah, captain's watch.

You and your crewmates knew about Law's bad habit of occasionally focusing on the job and forgetting about everything around him - socializing, eating, drinking water, anything that took his focus away. That's why you created the captain's watch, when he showed signs that he was going to disappear, one by one you would try to pull Law out of the dome in which he was placed. In today's case, you were docked on a small island, which barely interfered with the log pose. It would just be a night to breathe before continuing on the journey.

Already ready to leave, like the others, you decided to gather up the courage you had and go to Law. Two knocks on the door - almost softened by the sweat that accumulated on your hands - and a low murmur asking you to come in.

"Hey captain." your voice practically lifted him from the papers he was analyzing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Don't apologize for that." trying to avoid boosting your ego, you could notice that Law seemed more relaxed as soon as he looked at you. "How can I help you?"

"I came to try and pull you out of this little dome, captain."

"This color really suits you." Law moved the chair away, creating a gap that allowed him to look at you from top to bottom.

"That's not what I said."

"But it's the truth, you really suited this dress." he insisted, knowing that your cheeks were probably burning with shyness.

"Is this your way of saying I look pretty?"automatically, your feet seemed to guide you in the direction where he was.

"What are your plans for today?" like a predator watching its prey, Law analyzed every step you took towards him. However, your walk stopped at the time of his month, where you leaned back, face to face with the man.

"We'll go out to dinner, enjoy the little time we have free on the island. I just came here to ask you if you want to accompany us?"

"Does that mean everyone is going to leave, including you?" it was hard to contain the laughter when you saw Law practically pouting.

"It's dinner, captain."

"I can take you to dinner." he sounded almost offended, standing up and stopping in front of you. One of his hands slid down your arm, moving up slightly. "And then, after dinner…"

"Stop being a pervert!" facetiously, you complained. However, instead of moving away, both of his hands attached themselves to your waist.

"You come here, all pretty, in a nice short dress and tell me you're going to leave me here alone? I have the right to be a little perverted." his torso, which was still a few millimeters away from yours, stuck to your skin. His fresh breath millimeters from yours. "What did you do to me?"

"What do you mean captain?" the name came out in a provocative tone from your lips.

Law thought about saying that during the last two weeks you had been his frequent thought. About him thinking about what moments would be opportune for him to steal some of your attention. But that might sound strange. Sounding in a way that was still difficult for even him to understand.

Instead, he decided to capture your lips with his, the taste of the sweet cherry gloss making him even more intoxicated than your presence was capable of.

He could have thought of having you there, on his desk and using the little time they had until someone suspected your disappearance. He could let one of his hands sneak where he wanted and capture some of your nectar to remind him how good it felt. But no. Your lips were enough to leave him lost.

"Law…" you pulled away enough for the air to return to your lungs.

"You still have time to give up on that dinner." he asked and saw you laugh lightly, denying his request. "It's okay. Go, enjoy the night." He stole some more from your lips and freed himself from your arms, watching you head towards the door.

"Maybe I'll make time to come back early." you warned before leaving and laughed when you saw him cross his fingers.

As soon as the door closed, you needed to catch your breath until you returned to your friends.

As soon as the door closed, Law collapsed into the chair again. The warm body and a not so familiar sensation. Was what he was doing right? Was what he was feeling right?

The night seemed pleasant, a lot of chatter wasted, bottles of drinks were piling up. But even so, your mind wandered to a certain submarine in the nearest port and you knew you wouldn't stay there for long at that dinner. And of course, drinking and talking resulted in some topic that would make you embarrassed, it was no surprise that the topic came back your way.

"I have a point to state." Ikkaku began, throwing one of her arms over your shoulders. "Someone here has been very happy, very mysterious. Even your skin is the best my dear friend. Tell us, what have you been doing?"

"You ask as if your distrust wasn't sex." you replied, cynically throwing her arm away.

"So… What are you waiting to tell us?" Shachi leaned on his hands, feigning heightened interest. "Finally someone took good care of you know what."

"Perhaps." there was no point in lying, you were terrible at it. In this case, you would try to control the damage and omit what was possible.

"The question is: your own fingers or someone else's fingers?"

If you were still drinking something, you would have choked for sure. Your memories dragging you directly to the first contact you and Law had.

"This is confidential." you replied to Penguin, who groaned.

"Don't be boring! It's rare to have new gossip, I want to know the details." Ikkaku pointed out, seeing you roll your eyes. "Was it someone we know? Someone from here?"

"No!" You immediately denied it. "N-no. It was on the last island we visited. It was a date at a bar and that was it, nothing more to explain." not that there were many lies left in your stock.

"What's his name?"

"La- Laos!" you stuttered. "He's been taking the same route as us, so we'll meet up today." you lied, already anticipating an excuse you intended to use.

"Laos, interesting name." Ikkaku commented and you could see the malice in her words. "And today, are you going to have another nighttime adventure too?"

"I don't know, it's up to him." you shrugged, wanting the topic to drop.

"Hey, I know you're not a saint or a spotless virgin." Ikkaku spoke in a more serious tone, ignoring the jokes the others made. "But some guys might want you just for you know what. And you're too pretty and cool to subject yourself to that."

"Serious?"

"Some men have sex just to prove a point: that they can do it, that it has to be their way, anyway. But if it's something you want too, I don't see a problem."

The topic slowly died down and in the first gap you found, you slipped out and hoped that none of them had thought of following you.

Some guys might want you just for you know what. Even with the joking tone, Ikkaku's words stuck in your mind. Well, you and Law hadn't had a complete relationship, but was that what he wanted? And wasn't that what you wanted too?

Immersed in your thoughts, the path to Polar Tang was faster than you expected. As you suspected, the submarine was practically empty. Those who hadn't left were too busy with their tasks.

Two knocks on the door were enough to find who you were waiting for.

Law didn't consider himself anxious, in the essence of the word. He did not consider himself one of those who suffer tortuously waiting for something. Except, today he was anxious.

After he finally managed to leave the small office he was in and head towards his bedroom, he had already tidied up the small place countless times, making the bed tidy, everything he could he did. He didn't expect two knocks on the door to make his heart race so quickly.

"Hey! Someone kept their promise." he gave you space to enter.

"I wouldn't be crazy enough to disobey my captain." You said in a teasing tone. "What good did you do?"

"To be honest nothing."

The hands in his pockets indicated that Law was more nervous than he appeared. Knowing that he seemed to be just like you gave you a boost of courage.

Before he could even come up with a topic to try and talk about, you approached him and kissed him quickly, surprising him.

"I'm sorry." you pulled away, seeing him take his hands out of his pockets slowly. "It's been two weeks and all I can think about is us, that night."

This time, Law took the lead. His previously shy hands pulled your body against his while his lips stole yours.

The taste of cherry in your mouth was a distant memory, but feeling your lips against his was still an intoxicating sensation. One of his hands felt around and found the key, locking the door.

In not so sure steps, you could feel the padding of the bed against your thighs and taking strength - or in the correct way, catching Law off guard - you turned him in order to guide him until he was the one sitting on the bed and you were standing.

Wanting to understand your intentions, Law leaned on his elbows and had to restrain himself from exposing how much he was entertained by your body in front of him.

Sliding the straps of the dress, the piece gathered at your feet and allowed Law to see only your almost naked body in front of him, except for the cloth of the same tone as the dress that covered your intimacy, almost like a planned act.

Using the same splashes of confidence, you bent down just enough to kiss him lightly and leaving his head hanging, waiting for another kiss. Your fingers, cold from nervousness, began to lift his shirt, throwing it away.

"It looks like someone is eager to do all the work." Law pointed out. Seeing your hands retract, Law took one of them and slid it down his chest, then his abdomen, to the waistband of the pants. "You can do whatever you want, really. Don't think too much."

"Can I kiss you… there." your eyes pointed to the waistband of his pants and Law swore he could die with just that question.

"Only if you want." he pointed out, seeing you kneel in front of him and reach for the buttons on his pants, untying them. Following his own order not to think too much, you let your fingers invade the underwear he was wearing, stroking his cock gently. the word came out as an exasperated whisper from Law's lips. "Fuck."

You pulled his cock out, small thrusts around your hand being made under Law's watchful eye didn't help one bit in your search for courage.

Your lips found his sensitive area, placing an almost chaste kiss and then gave way for your tongue to explore that place. As you explored every inch of him you could reach, you could hear some grunts above you and every time you looked in his direction, it somehow became clear that they were coming from his lips. You opened your mouth and swallowed half the length of his cock, enough for his tattooed fingers to get caught in your hair and begin to dictate a slow rhythm. There was still a bit of sanity in Trafalgar D. Law and at the moment, he was using all of it not to rush things.

"That fucking mouth, so good, so fucking good." he grunted once again, his head lolling back, trying to avoid the almost innocent looks you were giving him. "I can't wait anymore."

The last muttered words were the only thing you heard before you felt your body leave the ground. In a movement that you barely had time to understand how it was done, you found yourself in Law's arms being placed on the bed, while he fit between your legs and explored every inch of your lap with wet kisses.

"You're too good for your own good." he murmured, taking your lips in a wild kiss. "Makes me not want to let you leave here, ever."

His tongue invading every inch of your mouth and the heat making you look for friction against his pelvis and Law didn't hesitate in pressing his intimacy against yours. Fighting his own desire to sink into you, his wet kisses traced a path you were eager to see.

"You don't intend to stop me today?" Law commented cynically, his lips hovering over the thin, damp fabric of your panties.

"I don't think so, it's a good view from here." You tried to play his game and saw him press his lips exactly where you needed it most. "Law!"

"huh?" This time, he started licking over the fabric, wanting to tear your sanity away there. "Do you need something?"

"Please, can you do that again? Just a little, please." you whimpered and saw an almost sadistic smile on his lips.

"Oh I'm definitely still going to make you beg one of these days." his hands went up to the side of your panties. "But for today…"

You feel that same sensation from that day, your pussy burning for more, your legs shaking, your hips involuntarily throwing themselves against his face, until Law stops, immediately returning on top of you.

"Don't pout."

"But…"

"Today you will learn a new lesson about orgasms." Law pointed out, stretching to reach a condom that he had casually left next to the bed.

"What lesson?"

"Don't be hasty." he fit between your legs. "Can I?"

"Yes of course."

As soon as Law started to fit his cock inside you, God, it was the same feeling as two weeks ago. It was once again a little piece of paradise exclusive to him. The sly moan that left your lips didn't do much to help him hold back.

He began to move slowly, feeling every piece inside your pussy accommodate him as if he had made it there. Your hands got tangled in his dark strands and the hat with black polka dots was forgotten, lying on the floor.

He could see how hard you were fighting to not let a louder noise escape your lips and even though he knew the risks, he would thrust harder now and then just to hear the adorable noises that came from you, encouraging him to go even harder, faster. He wanted to have enough concentration to use his power and prevent any sound from coming out, but it was impossible with the way you were tied to him. So strong, so good.

"Pretty thing, I can feel you squeezing me." He sank into your neck, placing a few kisses that would definitely leave a mark on your skin, but he couldn't think about it. Law was leaning over your body, without leaving you, kneeling between your legs. "I bet you want to cum for me, hm?"

"Law!" your legs tightened around his torso. "J-Jst give it to me, p-please. I'm almost there."

Ignoring all your requests - and almost ignoring what his body wanted - Law came out of you, opening your legs and watching your intimacy pulsate with desire. Damn, that would be a difficult lesson to apply.

"Why did you stop?" you sounded indignant, your voice rising a few octaves and your eyes involuntarily filling with tears. "W-Why?"

"Hey, shhh, calm down." he asked with a smile on his lips. As if you were made of paper, he turned you onto your stomach, gently pulling your hips, leaving you on all fours for him. Your frustration was soon replaced by a choked moan leaving your lips as you felt his fingers explore your intimacy, tracing circles on your bud. “I promise to give you what you want, okay?

"But Law! I was almost there."

"I promise you won't regret it." he felt you buck your hips against his hand, searching for even more friction. "Is that good?" he heard you nod in a grunt. The nimble fingers were replaced by his cock, which slid to your entrance. "Can I continue?"

"Please."

Again, with an excess of patience that you had no idea what he was getting from, Law let inch by inch enter you. The moans surpassed any protection your hands could provide, much to Law's delight.

Law could see you writhing to take all of him inside you at the same time your hips thrust against his asking for more and more.

"I promised not to disappoint you today, didn't I?" One of his hands pulled you so that your back was pressed against his abdomen. "How do you feel?"

"So good, so fucking good. please - I... " a growl from your own lips interrupted you. "P-promise you won't stop now Law."

"And that's the lesson of the day." the hand that supported you by your torso went up and lightly attached itself to your neck, upon hearing you moan, Law controlled himself not to squeeze even harder, that wasn't his goal today. "Did you know that orgasms can be even more intense?" he began, breathlessly. "The more - oh fuck." he stopped when he felt you rocking against him, seeking even more friction. "I won't be able to give you the full lesson today. But in short, the longer you wait, the better it gets."

"I-I can't wait any longer Law!"

"I've got you baby, I've got you." his lips attached themselves to your neck, placing kisses on your sweaty skin. "You can cum when I tell you to, okay? Only when I tell you to."

"But…"

"Shh, I know you're almost there. Just a little more." he can see your face focusing, the mark of your teeth on your lip, trying to control the noises.

Feeling his own peak approaching, Law took one of his hands to your clit, making quick movements, which increased according to the speed of his thrusts.

"That's it, now just give it to me. Come on, pretty thing, cum for me."

Hearing your noises increase, Law took your lips to him in an almost uncomfortable position, but it didn't matter, What mattered was feeling you tremble under his touches, drenching you like he hadn't felt before and just like you, he allowed himself reach the apex.

Gently, Law let your body leave his embrace and lie face down on the bed. Your skin was covered in goosebumps and he could see small tremors in your leg. Better than that, he saw a shy smile and an ecstatic look on you.

"Was it a bad lesson?" he asked, laying down next to you and watching you deny it. "Everything is fine?" you again just nodded with the movement of your head. "Really?"

"It was just a little too much, almost too much to handle. I thought I was going to explode." You said, between sighs. Something told you to come closer and snuggle up to him, but at the same time, you didn't know if that was what you should do. That's what boyfriends did, wasn't it?

"Almost too much? Soon we'll have to decide on a safeword." he pointed out, making you laugh slightly. "Do you know what it is?"

"I don't know about orgasms, I already read that somewhere." you scored. "What do you think of a bear?"

"Bear?" he looked incredulous. "Do you really want me to think about bears during sex?"

"We're talking about a safeword."

"It makes sense." He also turned onto his stomach, facing you. And so, the two of you stayed for a few long minutes.

"I can hear your brain working from here." Law adjusted himself to the side, so that he could face you completely. "Seriously, it's a little rusty, but I can still hear it."

"You're not that good."

"Yeah, definitely rusty, after all, that's not what you were talking about just now." Law smiled when he saw you roll your eyes, just watching you he knew that your cheeks must be burning with shyness. "Seriously, what's going on in here?"

"Nothing to worry about, Captain." you pointed out, turning around and sitting down feeling his gaze burning in your direction. "I think I should leave."

"No, nothing like that." he gently pulled your arm, forcing you to lie down again. As a method of keeping you there tied to his bed, Law got close enough to leave his body practically on top of yours. "You're going to lie here while I get you some water and something so I can clean you up."

"Clean me up? You, clean me up?"

"What strikes you as strange about that?" He moved far enough away, getting up only to rip off the condom, throw it in the trash and put on the underwear that had been thrown somewhere that you didn't care about worrying about at that moment.

"I should go clean up myself, as well as go get my water."

The way the words came out of your lips with a certain conviction bothered Law a little. Not that he was bothered by your self-sufficiency, in fact it was one of the points he most admired. What bothered him was the fact that you didn't even consider being taken care of after all the things you both did, at least in the way he expected to be able to take care of you.

"You stay here" He simply responded, returning to the bed and bending down enough to leave a quick kiss on your forehead and ask with his face just a few millimeters away. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you." nothing more than a whisper came out.

Before Law could get far enough away, the words fell like a waterfall from your lips, curiosity and the conversation you had earlier with Ikkaku seemed to occupy every space in your mind.

"Law?"

"Hm?" he muttered, as he hunted for where he had thrown his own pants.

"You… How can I ask?" Your genuine doubt caught his attention, and he immediately stopped to observe you. "What do we do… I mean, you didn't start this just to prove a point, did you?"

"Like what?"

"I mean, this all started after that conversation about me never having a orgasm and well, now I think we did everything we could do…" you sat down holding your legs against your body. "To put it in simpler words, you wanted me just for you know what."

"I knew that brain of yours was working too hard." he laughed lightly. Ignoring the idea of ​​leaving you alone with your own thoughts, he decided to postpone going to the kitchen. "What kind of idea is that?"

"I don't know." You shrugged, watching him sit in front of you on the bed, it was difficult to face him back in that situation. "I heard someone talk about it, about wanting someone just for that, just to prove the point and then this idea stuck in my mind."

"To answer your question, no, I'm not with you just for that, but to be honest, I don't know how to answer anything beyond that." Law tried to be as honest as possible, after all it was nothing but fair since you had said that to him. "The last few days I've been trying to understand some things, some feelings and while I understand all of this…" he approached, taking your face in his hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes. "While I try to understand all these feelings and I believe that you also have to understand something, I need you to know that I don't want you just for sex, you will never be just that, okay?

"Okay." your voice came out like a precious whisper to him. "Can you kiss me?"

He even thought about saying that he already planned to do it, but gestures said even more than words. Law took your lips and little by little he lay almost completely on top of you.

Feeling you searching for more contact, Law let one of his hands caress your thigh, asking permission to give you even more attention. Feeling you give up space, his hands soon found your intimacy. His slow touches began to elicit small moans from you.

"Look, all you want is sex." he joked, seeing you frown he reached up and kissed the tip of your nose. "Want some more my pretty thing?"

"Just a little, please."

"Whatever you want."

Fitting between your legs, he slowly slid into you and so followed his thrusts. Even with scratches being distributed across Law's white, tattooed skin, he continued at the same speed. His name was starting to become a delicious mantra to hear coming from your lips.

"I'm here, I'm here. Do you want to give it to me again?" He intensified his ministrations a little when he felt you once again on the edge of the abyss. He didn't expect to feel the wetness gush towards him as your nails dug into his skin. "Oh fuck, that's a good girl. My good girl. Can you give me one more of those? Please, just one more."

A few more thrusts were enough for you to reach your pleasure again and Law felt your sweet nectar running through him. Forgetting about the lack of a condom, Law allowed himself to cum inside, to feel his hot seed spread throughout you. Luckily, he was a doctor and would know how to deal with some kind of later contraception. He just couldn't miss the chance.

"It's okay." Law responded to your growl as soon as he came out of you. "Can I postpone going to the kitchen and cleaning up that I promised?"

"Yes." you replied sleepily. Unlike the first time, as soon as you finished, Law immediately pulled you into his arms. "I-I need to go."

"No, you don't need to."

"Don't?"

"No." Law insisted, pressing you into his arms. "Let me take care of you tonight, okay"?

"Yes captain." your voice was almost disappearing in your sleep.

Law slowly saw you close your eyes and sleep and he knew it wouldn't take long for him to do the same. The only thought that gnawed at him was that he didn't want it to be just tonight.

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taglist: @metonimia-de-bellota, @deathsmajestysworld, @augustanna, @kitsunechan707, @thepinktiredfreak, @yve-barr

[scozthewoz]

merc sleeping headcanons

actually these are canon i watch them sleep

spy ▪︎ does not snore. or make any noise whatsoever. or move. he looks like a corpse when he sleeps aside from the very very subtle rise and fall of his chest. and he cannot fall asleep unless he's wrapped in 4,000 dollar silk sheets. he's also a very light sleeper and shoots up everytime the base groans or creaks.

scout ▪︎ snores suprisingly disruptively! still being obnoxious even in the clutches of slumber! he also fidgets like crazy, tosses and turns, and twists into the most ridiculous positions. he wakes up half-hanging off the bed with his blankets scattered on the floor most days.

medic ▪︎ also sleeps very corpse-like, but his breathing is more audible. he does NOT like going to bed and very frequently passes out on his desk. definitely has terrible insomnia he refuses to treat or acknowledge.

engineer ▪︎ also a workbench passer-outer, but instead of insomnia he's just the worst workaholic ever. and he snores like crazy. he'll usually wake up and just get right back to what he was working on like nothing happened.

soldier ▪︎ an incredibly active sleeper like scout. he's usually bear hugging something throughout the night whether it be zhanna, a pillow, or a giant teddy bear pyro gifted. death grip. you cannot escape it. he snores AND drools. bro sleeps like a dog having a bad dream

pyro ▪︎ nobody sees this thing sleep. the rare times it's witnessed, she's all curled up like a cat on the floor of her room with a stuffed animal. its unsure if they're actually sleeping however, because they do it so lightly that they immediately wake up if someone even glances at them, and the mask obviously obscures their face.

heavy ▪︎ sleeps like a fucking log, on his back, completely motionless. you can't wake this guy up. he'd sleep through a nuclear disaster. he has a snore that shakes the walls. he also has a very extensive nightly routine which involves checking on medic and taking him to bed if needed.

sniper ▪︎ his back is all messed up because he falls alseep just about anywhere. he can be in the most uncomfortable position you've ever seen just having a little cat nap. he's a very light sleeper though, so he wakes just as easily as he dozes off. his sleep schedule is so fucked he's surviving on coffee and willpower.

demo ▪︎ he also has a habit of passing out in random locations, usually from drunkenness. the other mercs find him in all kinds of wacky fucking places around the base just honk mimimi-ing away and have to drag him to his room. even when he's sober that day, he does rely on alcohol to go to sleep. it's not healthy.

[peachetteprice]

Driving Habits | TF141

Disclaimer: Some of these are UK specific, including the style of car, manoeuvres, terminology, and gearbox. That's what happens when the boys live and work mostly in England! Also, I am almost taking my practical test in September, and I need to rant about certain habits. Sorry in advance to Soap and Ghost. Love you both, boys.

Credit to @soaps-mohawk for giving me the inspiration to explore this headcanon! It began with an exploration into what cars TF141 might drive! You can see the original post that inspired this here.

+ Including interactions when driving with an S/O!

Notorious one-handed driver. The other hand is either on the gearstick - just resting, contemplating - or mediating between the gearstick and your thigh. He loves a good reverse bay park. (He's an absolute beast at it, too. No need for minor adjustments. He just... knows the space. And he will make fun of you when you can't park as perfectly as him). Helps to get the shopping in better, because at least you can get to the boot! Has been known to swerve a little bit for birds in the road, but that's because he's an avid watcher, and the poor things get enough grief as it is - he wants to still be able to watch Robins and Thrushes in the trees on the weekend!

Captain John Price:

He does, however, neglect rabbits, foxes, badgers, squirrels, and rats. And the... occasional deer in Scotland? Not out of malice - not at all - but they're not worth swerving over and potentially causing a collision for. He might, only if you're with him - because you'll squeal if he doesn't and positively become harrowed by its body popping beneath the rear tyre - but it's much safer for a driver to simply ram it into the gravel than to mess around with the safety of himself, other drivers, and - of course - you.

Takes extra care around vehicles with stickers that denote that the occupants of said vehicle - bar the driver or secondary passengers - are animals or children. He will be extra sure to check his mirrors, touch on the brakes if need be, and will actively scan for dangerous drivers that he can shield the car from. His duty is to protect, after all, in whatever capacity.

That being said, in his youth, he was known to drive... a little faster than required. Only on country lanes does he still retain some of his more... reckless habits. He may go a touch too fast around corners, and ignore the chevrons that indicate the severity of a turn (one arrow, two, three), and if the road opens up to a sprawling range, whereby speed control for tight corners and blind junctions is not an issue, he will... perhaps... occasionally - only rarely if you're in the car with him - let her rip.

Begrudgingly drives your shuddering little Fiat 500 or itty bitty Hyundai i20 (hey, what do you mean, tiny, it's perfect for the city, John! Pay no mind if your boys giggle and point when you turn up at the base in it...), though much prefers the Triumph Spitfire, 1979, mint-condition, that he bought in 2008 for three grand and fixed up over a ten-year period (when he wasn't deployed, that was) which is now worth £18,000. That is his profit! But he won't let another soul touch it, drive it, or so much as look at it - unless it's you, on a good day - until the day he dies. It's in stunning condition, but God help you if you reverse into the driveway without him watching like a hawk, wiggling his hand as if it were the paddle of an aeroplane conductor, telling you to move closer to the wall and risk scratching your car just to protect his darling baby. It... oh no... it might be the only thing he loves more than you...

But those roads are his home, that's all!

Always, always, always over-revs the engine to get out of a junction. He can't help it! He's used to manoeuvring through rough terrain with a car the size of a military tank - he's bound to forget to treat a normal car with a normal amount of strength. He comes flying into and out of roundabouts for that exact reason! He has to get on and off them quickly enough - don't you know, they're deathtraps, they are!

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He's also prone to checking his side mirrors and rear view mirror an inordinate amount of times for a twenty-minute pop to the shop. He is convinced that the Kia Sportage behind him is right up his tail - he's sure it's stalking you in the passenger seat, especially with your bumper stickers on the rear, the nasty perverts - no matter how many times you explain to him that the mirrors are convex! They will make everything seem closer than they truly are! Now, however, he does not and will not ever brake-check a car, but he will sure as hell give them the dirtiest stare if they decide to overtake him... or until they back off a few more feet behind you.

The poor man gets impatient at lights. He does. And crossings, too. Train, tram, pedestrian, any and all of them. Despises them all. He'd rather a set of traffic lights for people to cross at, than have those silly zebra, pelican or toucan markings along the road that he has to pray Grandma Doris won't divert her walking cane in its bilateral direction. Oh, and he bounces his leg like there's no tomorrow. Again, he can't help it! He isn't used to waiting in cars. He's used to tumbling down roads in Middle Eastern deserts as the crow flies. None of those silly turns and re-routes into estates because he took the wrong turn at a junction. He wouldn't have messed up had he had time to think! Had there been no traffic! And, oh, Christ, the traffic. Simon does not like traffic. He does illegal U-turns as soon as he sniffs there being a road closure - that's how much he dislikes waiting!

You'll never forget the day that he wrenched the handbrake up way too high, and you had to get your father to re-tighten it. You're sure there aren't any more notches he can lift it to. You're rarely ever on a hill that warrants it. He'll crank it up six times just to stop at the traffic light before the Tesco. It's bloody Tesco! It's not Mount Kilimanjaro!

Never gets the bite point consistently. Never gets the damn bite point. Always too low or too high. He doesn't over-rev it like Ghost does, but the amount of times he stalls the bloody car, thinking he's in another one of those tank-sized vehicles that has a brand-spanking new bite point - or dare he say, an automatic gearbox that doesn't even require a clutch - is incalculable. You'd think the man has only just learnt to drive!

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Notoriously speeds through built-up areas. Often commits to doing 45mph in a 30mph zone. Only when there isn't anyone around, like at nighttime! He consistently zooms past speed cameras in his BMW. His poor 3L engine is just too powerful for those dinky little roads. And, promise, he doesn't do it on purpose! He just routinely forgets to glance at his speedometer (and his mirrors, but that's another issue), and he drives for himself and himself only. In fact, he often hums to himself and forgets you're even there, beside him, clutching onto the internal handle on the roof in case he veers too suddenly to either side. His object permanence doesn't prevail unless he has one hand on your inner thigh, and if he doesn't, well, you can kiss safe driving habits goodbye.

(Oh, and he always sits on the brake. And bite + gas. The handbrake is too cumbersome, and his feet are strong enough, Goddamnit!)

Alright, that isn't to say he's an... unsafe driver. He's only slightly inconsiderate. He brakes too harshly, too late, too suddenly, he coasts on the clutch around corners, he never feeds the steering wheel, and he sometimes forgets to check his mirrors before turning into a junction (but he's never T-boned a cyclist... yet... you can give him a tick for that one). But he hums and whistles a nice tune to himself - he prefers it to the radio, and that's not to say he prefers quiet so he can hear the sound of the engine, no, no... never... not at all - and he always makes an overt point to note every field of cows, sheep (especially horses!) as well as every cat he sees lurking along the pavements. Never dogs. Doesn't like the bastards. Got bit once. That was enough to turn him right off.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Beautiful driver. Test-accurate. He could re-take it today and pass with flying colours. What a brilliant driver. The only bad habit he's picked up is driving with one hand (he tends to bite his fingernails on the other when he drives - helps with the stress of commuting in London), and never feeding the steering wheel through his hands. He does the wipe-on, wipe-off manouvre, mostly because he looks hot when doing it, though he tries not to. Mama Garrick always swats his hand whenever he does it because that's how drivers get into accidents, baby!

Car-shares with his mother, whether it's in her duck-egg blue Kia Picanto or his lime green Ford Fiesta - it has failed its MOT three bloody times, and he's revived that girl from death's vice grip more times than he can count, it has the mileage of a postal worker in the 1700s, nearing 200k - but this gentleman always remembers to bring the seat forward and upright after he's finished using it, so that her feet can touch the pedals, and to, naturally, reduce her back pain. He does the same with the headrest, too, because if there's anything he cares about more than his job, it's the safety of his family and friends!

Tends to drive on the cautious side. The only minor fault he'd get in a test would be hesitance because he simply doesn't trust any other driver but himself. His mother drilled that into him. She said that there's nothing worse than watching a car flash its headlights and signal you to go, with caution, as always, because the flash is not universal for 'go', only to pull in front of you and trigger you to emergency brake. Or, God-forbid, a pedestrian puts their hand up at you before they've even crossed the bloody road, and he has to slam on the brakes like he's Speedy Gonzalez at a traffic light. Lordy Lord.

Never mind the fact that he waits too long at pedestrian crossings because there could be somebody shrouded by that tree on the corner there. Do you see it? Over there! No, behind the sign, love! There could be someone - oh, whatever. He has to wait to make sure it's clear - otherwise, Grandma Doris is getting bumped in the legs and thrown fifty feet along the road! And he cares about the elderly!

Always nervously bites the insides of his cheek at roundabouts. Which is the most bewildering part of all, because he's so good at them! He always signals onto the roundabout. Never cuts lanes. Always follows directions perfectly, and if he doesn't, well, I guess you're taking a different route until you can turn around in a safe place. He always signals off the roundabout, too - even at mini-roundabouts - but he'll scrunch his face up every time, huff, and mutter:

"Yeah... botched that one."

...Regardless of how many times you tell him that he's a gorgeous driver! It's sexy, too, how he abides by the Highway code and gives way to more cars than he really should - no, except he really should stop doing that, actually, they're starting to take advantage of his kindness and he doesn't realise it - and how he's so... so... so fucking smooth with gear transitions. Going from stationary to a comfortable 20mph? He'll pop that sucker so fluidly into third (or second, if it's his mum's car) with such prowess that you barely notice the engine take the gas he's giving it. There's no jolt between first and second. He plays those gears like he's bowing a violin. How delicate his fingers are. How gentle his touch. It's mesmerising to watch.

And, you're about ready to give him your hand in marriage when you notice that every time he comes to a stop - on a hill, at a traffic light, in crawl traffic, waiting to turn into a junction, he puts the handbrake on, then takes his foot off the foot brake, then knocks the gearstick into neutral, then takes his foot off the clutch, and waits patiently like the darling man he is. Unlike someone else, he never sits on the brake...

Gaz even brakes in ample time, and you thought he couldn't be more perfect! That's what really gets you going - he gives the car behind him just the right amount of time to slow down that it's almost a waltz, and he's the conductor of traffic. Though... maybe don't let him get trapped at a stalemate on a mini-roundabout where all cars are turning left and are subsequently blocked by the need to give way to the right... his poor brain will short-circuit! If he does, give him a pat on the thigh and let him wait for someone else to make the first move - he hates decision-making when he's off-duty.

Bonus Round - Road Rage!

Captain John Price:

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Road Rage? You mean, showing a healthy amount of anger and vigour towards a bloody idiot driver? You mean... baring his teeth and swatting a hand at them, occasionally honking the horn past eleven-thirty, even if people are sleeping, or pulling out one of his anger-insurance cigars? That's what road rage is? Well... Christ, he must be terrible for it. Don't tell his boys that... they think he's the most level-headed man on base.

He's slightly oblivious to the technique of cars around him. He drives like he's the only driver in the world, because usually he is - except for those fuckers behind you who won't back off - but if something does happen, and if it isn't too much of an issue, he'll grunt, clench his teeth, grip the steering wheel and let out a muttered 'bastard'. If, however, something really irritates him - especially if another car puts you in danger - he'll honk the horn and flail his hand at the windscreen in the hopes that the driver sees his frustration (even if you're the one driving, he'll reach over and honk the pad for you, even though you've told him not to!)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Well... he certainly knows a lot of Gaelic, doesn't he, your boy? You've hardly a monkey's bottom of what he's saying, but the vitriol in which he says it - he's not known for bottling his anger very well - makes it clear to you that he needs a hug and de-tox before bedtime. If the accused does anything on the defensive or antagonistic, he has been known to pull up beside them on a two-lanes-go-straight-on road marking, even if it isn't the right way to your destination, just to glare at them and give them the... stern finger. Maybe... maybe a word or two about precious cargo.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Gaz is a simple guy when he's off-duty. He will sigh, tut, shake his head, and mumble 'nutter', or a very hushed 'oh, you absolute...' (bonus: he never finishes his sentence!) It's what his mum does! If another car puts you in danger, he may groan and roll his eyes - but he always asks if you're okay as soon as, and apologises for the sudden violence of his attitude! What a sweet man.

| Masterlist |

[daistea]

I started writing an imagine request but got distracted and produced This Thing. I’ve been wanting to write out my thoughts and my analysis on Mithrun’s state of mind for a while, actually

tw suicide, depression, discussions of mental health and self worth

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ahead ‼️❗️

Sooo despite a lack of desires, Mithrun lives by habit.

These habits aren’t driven by preference, likes or dislikes. They’re still culturally acceptable though, mainly because Milsiril and his brother were the ones that instilled these habits in him(Mithrun doesn’t care what’s acceptable if it has nothing to do with the demon.) And there are still a few quirks leftover from his old self, things he never had a stark desire or choice to do but still did simply because he was used to them. Even after 40 years, the ins and outs of what the demon did to him remain still so complex.

Mithrun doesn’t really care about the details all that much. I like to think that outside of the dungeon, he has a regular bathroom schedule. He bathes every day when possible. He brushes his teeth for exactly two minutes, twice a day. It isn’t that he desires to not stink, it’s that he has to do these to keep his team willing to be around him so he’d have a better chance at finding the demon again and finishing the job.

In my headcanon, there are a few small habits he hasn’t quite picked up yet. He often doesn’t bother to brush his hair— the thought doesn’t even enter his mind. It gets stringy, something his old self never would’ve allowed. Its only when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror— a very rare occurrence, since mirrors remind him of the demon and the demon makes him want to shatter things— that he realizes that he should probably brush it for the sake of functionality.

Taking care of his skin is yet another habit he’d never really formed. Elves have naturally perfect skin anyway, so there’s no use. But they could still be scarred, and marred, and reflect physical neglect. Like with dark eye bags, a lack of sunlight, and dehydration.

Mithrun is incredibly dehydrated.

He doesn’t realize that, of course. While his body would feel the neglect, it doesn’t send those signals to his brain. With things like peeing, he only realizes that he needs to go to the bathroom because he recognizes the physical feeling, not because his brain says ‘got to pee now.’

With hunger, he feels pangs, but those pangs dont translate into appetite or a desire to eat. He only eats because it would keep him alive long enough to encounter the demon again.

Dehydration is also slightly physical, in that his throat will sometimes feel dry or his lips will chap, but he has not a single thought of ‘I’m craving water,’ Plus, what does that have to do with defeating the demon? Applying burts bees watermelon flavored lip balm ain’t getting him nowhere.

Everything goes back to the demon. Every move he makes is either because it’s a necessity of staying alive(to kill the demon) or because it’s part of the intricate web that will eventually lead him to the demon.

Mithrun gets hurt, he feels the physical pain, but his only desire is to patch it up quickly and keep moving to get to the demon. Healing himself for the sake of relief doesn't matter. Demon comes first. The demon is everything. It’s in the air he breathes, it’s in his bloodstream.

He doesn’t realize that he’s still Mithrun. He doesn’t consider himself as Mithrun anymore, that’s just his name. He lives for revenge(so he says) He Is An Instrument, a weapon that exists and is only maintained for the sole purpose of Revenge

A common misconception is that he has no emotion. Not true, he just doesn’t desire to fake a smile or joy or laughter for the sake of making someone feel comfortable. He can still smile quite naturally when he’s, ya know, getting closer to the goddamn demon. He can still be surprised and feel adrenaline and be angry at the things that happen in life. He can still get irritated or annoyed at his companions. He still has opinions, thoughts, feelings. He’s himself.

Idk. It’s incomprehensible almost, not having desires. It brings up so many variables. It’s not something you can be very literal or cut-and-dry about. My most effective way of connecting with his character is applying my experience with depression and the lack of desire I feel for doing certain things, and how I only do them for the sake of my family and friends. I think that’s considered relatively functioning. And I think honestly Mithrun would be considered high-functioning. But it’s not that he wants to do those things, he does them because he’s supposed to, because it all leads back to the stupid bitch face demon.

Mithrun tells himself he wants it dead. That’s his desire. But he knows if he ever succeeded in getting rid of it, he would have nothing. He’s okay with that. He’s going to die anyway, no matter if it’s by passively wasting away or by the mouth of the lion. He’s prepared for death, it’s inevitable. He’s not scared.

But once he decides to live again, he still functions mainly by habit. Except he starts to apply himself a little more.

“I’m going to wash myself today because my companions would appreciate that” and not “I need to stay clean to keep the team around to lead me to the demon”

And “I’m going to make noodles today to keep me busy.”

“I’m going to get a dog so I’ll have an obligation to go outside every day to walk it, because it’s good for me to do that.”

They’re still conscious choices, and sometimes he falters, he doesn’t register that he should do something. But he’s chosen to live and he’s trying to function not for the sake of his one goal, but for the sake of the gift that is existence.

He’ll learn to love, to have genuine friendships. On good days, he’ll appreciate a warm meal, the feeling of relief when drinking water, the soft touch of someone close to him. And he’ll experience these things because that’s what living people do. They’re nice things. He doesn’t do things anymore simply because they’ll take him closer to the demon.

It’s freeing, in a way. It’s scary, in another way. Imagine you’ve lost your one purpose in life, the one thing that keeps you on your feet, how would you react? Terrifying.

Mithrun is incredibly brave and strong for making the choice to find a new purpose, to exist, to eat.

[archiveikemen]

"Don't Look At Anyone But Me" Collection Event

Nica Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

On my way back after submitting a report, I heard someone call out to me.

Nica: The young lady over there. 

Standing there was one of the twins from Vogel.

Kate: Can I help you?

Nica: Actually, I got lost. 

Nica: Would you be kind enough to guide me? 

I was puzzled by the sudden request, but I nodded and he narrowed his almond-shaped eyes. 

Nica: Thanks. 

Kate: Don’t mention it, where are you headed? 

Nica: The room we’re staying in. Do you know where it is? 

Kate: Yes, this way! 

I pointed down the corridor and started walking with him following behind me chuckling. 

Nica: Fancy running into you like this, I really am as lucky as ever. 

(Harrison’s warning made me a little wary of Vogel’s members, but Nica is easy to talk to and doesn't seem like a bad person.) 

Even though I knew he was lying about something, it wasn't clear whether it was out of malice. 

(It’s not a good habit to judge someone you just met, right?) 

I was deep in thought while walking, and we soon arrived at Vogel’s room. 

Nica: Thanks for the help, “Spatzi ¹”.

Kate: “Spatzi”?

Nica: It’s German for “Robin”.

Nica: Crown calls you “Robin”, right?

Nica: So “Spatzi” it is.

¹ In the original text, Nica says ロ��ン which is basically hiragana for literally "Robin" and later explains that he actually said it in German. I previously made a post asking how I should translate this into a German word and the general consensus was "Spatzi" because I was told that's a term of endearment in German, so I decided to use this word. Do feel free to let me know in the notes if there's a better word, as I don't know the German language at all.

He sat down on the sofa and shifted his gaze to the seat across from him. 

Nica: Won’t you have a seat? 

Kate: Huh? 

Nica: It's rare for us to meet like this, so let’s chat a little. I want to know more about your job and all sorts of other things.

While I was feeling tense because it was only the two of us in the room, he propped his chin on his hand.

Nica: Besides…

Nica: I’m interested in you. 

Nica was smiling, but his eyes resembled those of a predator who had caught its prey. 

He looked pleased when I hesitantly sat down, and he called a maid to prepare some tea. 

Nica: Well then, shall we start by reintroducing ourselves?

Kate: Yes, please. 

Nica: I’m Nica Schwartz, a strategist for Vogel, an organisation under direct command of the Emperor of Germany. 

Kate: What does the job of a strategist entail?

Nica: I gather information, act as the brains of the group, and support Dari in various ways.

Nica: The details are confidential. 

Nica: Ah, right. Just call me Nica. No need to be formal with me.

Kate: Understood, Nica.

Nica’s smile widened when I called him by his name and he pointed at me. 

Nica: Now it’s your turn. 

Kate: I’m Kate, a Fairytale Keeper. There were all sorts of reasons that landed me in this job position, but I used to work as a mailwoman.

Nica: Hmm, you must know your way around pretty well, then?

Kate: Yes! I’ve delivered mail all over London, so I know it well enough to show people around. 

Nica: That’s great, I’ll have you show me around next time. 

As I reached for my teacup, Nica’s words interrupted.

Nica: What does the Fairytale Keeper do? 

Kate: I accompany Crown in their activities and record anything that happens.

(There are actually various other things, but…)

I figured it wasn't wise to go into the details, so I decided not to elaborate.

Nica: But you’re only an ordinary person, right? Isn’t it dangerous? 

Kate: Everyone at Crown made a promise to protect me.

Nica: Uh-huh…

Although he looked like he was listening, there was something about his tone that sounded as if he was getting ideas that made me a little uneasy.

But that feeling quickly went away when his expression suddenly brightened.

Nica: So you’re Crown’s super, super, cute little Spatzi. 

Nica: You must be really important to them.

Kate: I- I wouldn't say that…

(While it’s true that they treat me with courtesy…) 

It all started because I witnessed them conquering evil with evil.

(Me being where I am today is a result of my desperation to stay alive.)

Had I not spoken up back then, I might've left this world by now.

Nica: Dari might not like it, but I think it’d be fun to have a Fairytale Keeper in Vogel.

Nica: Ah, but it’d also be no good for Ring.

Kate: No good?

Nica: Ring’s my twin brother, but unlike me, he’s not good with people. 

(It’s true that Ring gave off a cold impression when we first met…)

As I thought back to our first meeting, Nica leaned in and peered into my face.

Nica: Goodness, are you interested in Ring? 

Kate: No, it’s not like that…

Nica: You can’t do that, because— that is mine.

He placed a finger on my lips, narrowing his eyes and flashing me an awfully charming smile. 

Afterwards, we chatted about some trivial everyday topics and the sky turned a crimson hue before we knew it.

(It’s already gotten this late…)

He widened his eyes in an exaggerated manner when he glanced at the clock. 

Nica: Oops, it’s already this late. I suppose it’s about time we end our conversation. 

Kate: You’re right. I enjoyed our conversation.

Nica: I could say the same. Let’s talk again another time.

I thanked him as he stood up to open the door for me, and I was about to leave the room when— 

Kate: eh.

He held up a lock of my hair and placed a kiss on its ends.

Nica: For our next date.

His lips parted with a soft sound. 

Nica: Oh, did you forget how to get home? Or do stay here and have me lock you up?

His provocative tone made it clear that he had been going easy on me. 

(To Nica, that conversation was only a way for him to gauge his circumstances. If he were to get serious—)

— He could easily steal the whole of my heart. 

Kate: Pardon me. 

My cheeks turned hot and I hurried out of the room without caring about who might see me. 

Nica: Bis dann / See you. Spatzi. 

Before he stole my heart. 

…

< Nica’s POV >

While I was laying on the sofa, my younger brother came back looking haggard. 

Nica: What, did you get lost?

Ring: Yeah… the place’s so huge, I couldn't tell where I was.

Ring sat down on a chair with a sigh.

Ring: If only I could easily memorise the layout of buildings like you do, Nica…

I laughed at those words. 

Nica: Sometimes I pretend to get lost on purpose.

[hawkeyeslaughter]

Do you have any (minor) headcanons that you have little to no evidence for but you just believe them as if they were the truth?

oh god of course i do

— the nurses taught klinger how to hem , alter , even make some of his own clothes ; he gets so good at it that sometimes they just come to him with their needs

— the uke ( ? ) that hawkeye has hanging in the swamp ? he knows how to play it surprisingly well , he just never does unless drunker than usual

— radar put soles in his boots one time that made him taller and it took even hawkeye like a solid week to figure out what was different about him ( once he did , though , radar had no refuge from the teasing )

— the nurses hold regular gossip sessions and sometimes compare notes on the guys of the 4077th

— margaret knows how to cut hair , taught herself how to cut her own ( because she got sick of barbers not cutting it the way she wanted ) . has more than once had to come to the rescue of nurses who have marred their hair by taking the scissors to it

— in college bj was a relentless and revered hazer ( which is funny considering he barely got through his own hazing )

— hawkeye’s use of petnames ( “ darling �� , “ sweetheart “ , “ baby “ , etc etc ) are all picked up from trapper . prior to meeting him he hardly ever used them

— when oliver got his orders home , trapper and hawkeye threw him a rager in the swamp and were very badly hungover for their actual goodbye the next day

— father mulcahy has that thing where he hears a tune and can instantly play it on the piano

— charles falls asleep regularly during movie nights hawkeye and beej drag him to , usually on hawkeye’s shoulder

— trapper is colorblind . not like , drastically colorblind , but hawkeye finds out one day and teases him absolutely relentlessly for it

— trapper and oliver always did this bit where they pretended they were whispering things and wouldn’t tell hawkeye what they were saying because it was funny to watch hawkeye get all huffy and annoyed with them

— henry has to do the right / left things with his hands all the time ( PLSASE ITS SO STUPID )

— margaret has a crazy sweet tooth + sometimes bj asks peg to send sweets back specifically for margaret

— potter’s horse or pet names in general very rarely alter because he just can’t be bothered to come up with new creative ones . besides , tried and true always works

— klinger is a pool shark . idk why he is he just is . he has pool shark vibes

— trapper briefly considered going into pediatrics

— charles sometimes has very serious conversations with the camp strays ( mainly just voicing whatever he may be thinking of at the particular moment )

— radar sometimes likes to imagine he’s the protagonist in a superhero world and i mean why not . little dude is literally psychic

— hawkeye has a habit of ripping at his nails , klinger regularly checks them and manicures them for him

— the nurses and swamp rats regularly get involved in prank wars . the nurses are far more clever than some people realize

— hawkeye and trapper stood back to back once to see who was taller and had radar judge ( hawkeye tried to bribe radar to say it was him )

— one time margaret made frank cry so hard he threw up . good for her

— bj has weirdly good reflexes and can catch things while barely looking up , he has a habit of saying “ i knew i should’ve gotten into baseball “

— charles does that thing where someone asks him to do something and he says “ no “ while actively doing it

— the swamp rats are all actively ready to swing on anyone who upsets one of the nurses and that goes double for margaret . sometimes they actually do

— hawkeye has a pair of roller skates . do with this information what you will .

— father mulcahy is a self - taught painter

— henry tells the same stories more than once and hawkeye , trapper , and radar have a mutual agreement to pretend they’ve never heard them whenever this happens

— hawkeye and radar have made many a pinky promise , and never once did one get broken

— charles is surprisingly a god awful secret keeper , he tells most secrets to margaret

— henry is scared shitless of cats

[zer0brainc3lls]

Newtmas headcanons pt2!

Newt and Thomas both read and they just sit in bed together reading all the time, ever so often gasping and going "you'll never guess what just happened-"

Newt is a chronic clothes THIEF. he doesn't buy baggy clothes because he will just go and steal Thomas's stuff 😭 "its not your shirt, its OUR shirt. big difference." "I BOUGHT IT?!" "AND I PICKED IT FOR YOU!" "YEAH I SEE WHY NOW"

Thomas would see little trinkets or flowers and just give it to Newt with little to no context except maybe "for you!" "i found this" Newt has kept every single one. he presses the flowers and keeps them in a book, the trinkets are in a box.

Newt got told by a doctor he should be using a cane, Newt refused but made the fatal mistake of complaining to Thomas about it.. Newt now has a cane decorated with stickers.

before Newt got the flare he had a weaker immune system then the other guys (aka they have really strong immune systems and his was just normal so everyone thought his was weak) but after he got the flare and got cured it ACTUALLY got weak, like a cold for someone else will have him in bed for days vomiting :( Thomas however almost never gets sick.. so he takes care of sick Newt OFTEN

Newt loves taking care of plants, Thomas cannot keep them alive.

Thomas is wearing shorts in the freezing cold, Newt is in multiple layers the moment the temperate gets even slightly cold

Newt is a flower crown/bracelet WARRIOR. Anytime Thomas comes home with flowers he found if he has enough Newt makes them into bracelets for Thomas to wear around (sometimes he makes crowns but he usually makes bracelets because it’s more practical for Thomas)

Thomas won’t take the bracelets off unless he’s showering/sleeping (so they don’t break) and will wear them till they have withered off

Thomas BEGGED Newt to teach him how to plait hair, once he got it down he plaits Newts hair for him

Thomas sometimes has a hard time focusing, and will sometimes not look at people while they are talking (not in a rude way!!) and Newt will just tap him on the shoulder if it’s someone else but if Thomas is “ignoring” HIM.. yk that move he did to frypan when he was looking at Teresa? Yeah. That gets Thomas’s attention alright 😭 example:

Newt: yeah so then-

Thomas: *staring off into the distance, fiddling with his hands deep in thought*

Newt: *rolls his eyes and grabs Thomas’s face and makes him look at him* y’know you’re s’pose to look at people when they talk to ya Tommy

Thomas: *red in the face* uhm- yeah you’re right- sorry what did you say hun?

(Newt knows this gets Thomas flustered btw. Uses it to his upmost advantage)

When Newt got the cure (I’m insane) he still suffered from the rare burst of anger/paranoia and on very very bad days hallucinations, since he was past the gone when he got the cure. No where near as bad to when he had the flare but still bad none the less, Thomas reassures him constantly and helps him calm down.

Being sick is a massiveee trigger for Newt. Fever, flu, vomiting you name it he’s on edge. Sometimes he gets in his own head and second guesses if he’s really cured but once again Thomas saves the day and is always there for him when he’s sick, staying home more to make sure he’s ok. (Writing a small fic about this btw!!!)

Newt is a back rub fanatic. Loves them. Receiving end or giving he does NOT care!! Thomas figured this out and whenever Newt is upset Thomas rubs his back

Fav kiss placements (giving and receiving):

Newt: gives cheek and neck kisses, loves receiving normal, forehead/hair kisses & neck kisses

Thomas: gives normal, just all over Newts face & neck kisses, loves receiving neck kisses and cheek kisses

More on neck kisses specifically there is a reason beside lust!! Its pulse points, reminds them that this is infact real and the other is ok :)

When they hold hands they sometimes check each others pulses out of habit, if in a uncomfortable scenario one will check the others and if it’s higher they gesture with a head nod if the other wants to leave

They both underestimate their own injuries, the other freaks out when the other is slightly sick/injured because in the scorch tiny cuts or the flu were very dangerous. Not much medicine or anything. Even in the safe haven, it’s a habit they won’t get rid of convinced it keeps them safe. They had a rule in the scorch that they had to tell the other if they were injuried since they own they themselves won’t see it as a big deal. Example:

*in the safe haven*

Thomas: hey Newt I got this cut on my hand today *shows palm, slight cut still bleeding*

Newt: *eyes widen in shock, grabbing Thomas’s hand careful not to touch the wound dragging him away*

Brenda: where are you going?!

Newt: to bandage it!! *tugs Thomas’s faster*

They do the whole deal. Cleaning, bandaging double checking etc :( poor boys

Newt tops, Thomas bottoms. No further questions!!

They are NOT picky eaters. At all. Plates fully clean, they do have favourites though

Newt: he loves sweet foods but also loves spicy food, adores pineapple with his whole heart

Thomas: loves salty food, not the biggest fan of spice. Loves carrots and apples though (the carrot one is canon I think)

Going on about food, they share food without question. Apple? Cut in half. Got a snack? Got extra for the other. The other still has food on their plate (very rare) the other will finish it off.

In the wicked facility whenever Thomas ever saw Newt besides sneaking out (rare af) sometimes they would purposely bump into each other just for an excuse to say hi, very very quickly whispering anything important before being ushered away

Sometimes, the others wouldn’t be there when Thomas snuck around so there were a handful of times it was just Thomas and Newt. Newt remembers this and told Thomas, Thomas however doesn’t and is very sad about it. :(

They have perfected lip reading to a tee. Having full on silent convos while everyone else is just like “really?! AGAIN?” Example:

*Newt and Thomas silently talking, gesturing a fuckton with there faces*

Minho: *whispers to Brenda* I’m slowly figuring out that lil shucking language they got going on

Brenda: *whispers back* how?!

They started learning in the scorch, since they rarely got a moment alone they would silently talk strategy. Slowly but surely it turned into silent flirting in the safe haven so Newt will just mouth something and and Thomas will go OUTLOUD “NEWT. NOT HERE!!” “Tommy they don’t know what I’m saying remember??” “… oh yeah”

Before they got together they got into heated arguments and even got slightly physical, all jokes of course but they would shove eachother around and grabbing each others shirts to “emphasise their point” (GAYYYY 🫵🫵🫵🫵)

Another long yap session, expect more. Also new lil fic on working on but do not threat!! I bet on losing dogs chapter 4 IS COMING OUT SOON. And I may write a short lil spin off of Thomas’s worst flare moments in his pov if yall would enjoy that. And soon one of my moots requested a Jeff x reader fic I usually don’t write those but that will be out soon too!!

[astraysimp]

Personal Sunshine

Hi bubbies! It is once again my favorite Friday! ……..9mitm Friday! Sadly, this is the second to last chapter. But, it is our sunshine Lixie’s time to shine! @straykeedz we’re almost done 🥺

Summary: you and lixie have only been dating for 4 months, but what happens when a bun in the oven throws a fork in the road of your new relationship?

Warnings: new!relationship trope, dad!felixie and baby bokkie, MARSHMALLOW FLUFF, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of failed condom, pet names, fem!reader, brief talks of periods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Felix were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship.Cuddling, holding hands, spending all your spare time together. Time with Felix was time well spent, in your eyes. No matter what you were doing; whether it be watching movies, playing video games, going to a boba cafe, watching Felix play video games. As long as you were with Felix, you were happy and at peace. So, you two were just soaking up the joys of your new relationship. However, you weren’t necessarily expecting a bun in the oven, 4 months into your relationship.

The day you and Felix found out was forever engraved into your mind. Late. You were 5 days late. And that had never happened to you. Sure, you had been so stressed that a period skipped here and there. But, that was rare, only happening once in a blue moon. You, now, especially wouldn’t be stressed when you had the personification and human embodiment of sunshine by your side. 

 Your periods always came like clockwork, ever since you had started getting them. The second week of every month. It was even marked in your calendar with a red marker, even though you knew it came at the same time. So, there you and Felix were; sitting in the bathroom of his apartment, a little white stick on the counter, both of you glad in your matching pajamas.

They had become your favorite pajamas. A soft pink set that Felix had gifted to you for your second date. The date was a simple movie night at his apartment. The pajamas matched his– except his were a soft blue. Made from a soft cotton, the shirt was a button up with a heart shaped breast pocket, littered with small hearts all over. The pants are made from the same material, same heart pattern and cute cuffed ankles. And his were  the same. “Got these for us,” he giggled out, handing you the set when you had entered his apartment, but not without placing a kiss to your lips. “I saw them at the store and thought they were cute. So, I got us a pair,” he added with a pink fluff to his cheeks and ears.

“Lixie pixie? Pixie poo, What does the test say?”

You were sitting on the closed toilet seat, wringing your fingers nervously. A habit of yours that he had picked up on, pretty quickly. Positive? Negative? These were the longest 5 minutes of your life.

Nervous. Scared. Confused. Perplexed. You felt all the emotions surge through your body, like a rampant white water river courses through its stream when you heard the words pass through his plump heart-shaped lips.

“Pregnant. 3-5 days…..but we-we used a condom,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the pregnancy test. And boy, were those lines clear as day. It was unmistakably positive. 

“Lixie poo…….condoms aren’t 100% effective, pixie poo. We couldn’t have expected it planned this to happen, honey bear.” You slipped out, your hands cupping his cheeks. His eyes were full of uncertainty.  Were you expecting this? No, but you were happy to be experiencing it with him. Placing a kiss to his lips, you made sure he could feel the love in your kiss. “We’ll be okay, yeah?”

You had seen Felix play with babies before, and he with you. So, naturally you both had thought of what life with a baby would be like together. Sure, you didn’t expect to find yourself with a bun in the oven…..but it was still exciting. 

Felix has always been the ideal partner, in any and all imaginable ways. So, as your pregnancy progressed and your body changed, he was there. It seemed to come to him so naturally, as if he was always meant to be a dad—to your baby. He rubbed your aching back, massaged your sore ankles, cooked all your cravings(no matter how absurd they sounded) and did it all with a love filled smile on his face and stars in his eyes.

Each trimester brought its own challenges. Morning sickness, cravings, swelling body, fatigue, your growing bump. But, your sweet Lixie poo was so sweet and caring through the entire 9 months. He  even planned your baby shower. The color theme being soft cream and pastel yellow– the same colors that would decorate Su-Jin’s nursery.

The baby shower was amazing, he made it such a cozy environment. There was balloons, chicken plushies, soft blankets and  decorations everywhere. Felix set up all the catering, making sure there were things to suit everyone’s taste. The games? All planned and picked by Felix. There was a special scratch card that revealed the gender of baby Lee, baby themed bingo, see who could change a diaper the fastest, nursery rhyme word unscramble– and of course there were prizes. Yes, Felix picked the prizes out,too. Making each goodie bag, consisting of an alcohol shooter, glow up toy pacifier, candies and mini ultrasound pictures of your baby. The desserts? That was his forte. Of course, there was a cake–bbokari shaped with a bib on– vanilla flavored with whipped buttercream. Obviously, there was a tray of his signature brownies, cut into baby themed shapes– pacifiers, diapers, teddy bears– there was cookies, in a few flavors.  

Heck, he was amazing— no, he was perfect— through your birth,too. He cried when you cried, held your hands, pressed cool cloths to your forehead, fed you ice chips. Felix made you feel calm, even though he may have been panicking himself. “You’re doing so well, honey bear.” He whispered countless times, as he pushed hair off of your damp forehead. For him, cutting the umbilical cord was the best part, seeing you bring a new life into this world.

They say that the eye of a hurricane is calm, even though a storm rages on around it. Felix was your eye, in the hurricane that was giving birth. He brought you a sense of peace, even if there were doctors and nurses surrounding you. The nurse telling you to push, other nurses scrambling around to have materials ready for when  Su-Jin arrived into the world. None of it mattered as soon as you looked into Felix’s eyes. One soft smile and look at his chocolate brown eyes and you could feel yourself calming. The breath you didn’t know you were holding releasing itself from the confines of your chest.

A new life that you and Felix made through love. Baby Lee was a chubby 8.2 pounds— equipped with the cutest little rolls— , born with ebony locks, big round dark brown boba eyes , heart shaped lips and freckles. Felix cried when he held Su-Jin for the first time, cradling the small bundle in his arms as he sat shirtless– knowing how important skin to skin was for a newborn. “Hi, I’m your daddy, bokkie. It’s so nice to meet you. Me and your mommy have been waiting so long.” He whispered, gently lifting the baby to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

Su-Jin’s eyes had fluttered open, taking in the new world around him before landing back on Felix. Felix smiled, his eyes looking at the baby who mirrored him, a tiny smile on his face. “My Su-Jin.”

So, just imagine a tiny felix and bang….that’s baby bokkie for you. Yes, you and Felix called him baby bokkie— but his name was Su-Jin. Su meaning long life and Jin meaning precious or rare.

Man, he was precious,too. That baby was more cuddly than his daddy, and Felix was cuddly. Baby bokkie cried when out of your or Felix’s arms, only at peace when being cuddled, finding solace and tranquility in the loving embrace of his parents. Not only was he cuddly, but he wasn’t fussy (unless he wasn’t being cuddled). The cutest thing was his giggle, as it matched Felix’s giggle. He was a perfect baby–calm,slept through the night, angelic. An angel on your,your angel.

Now, he is 7 months old and still as giggly as ever. You and Felix were enjoying doing some tummy time with Su-Jin, while on a casual Tuesday afternoon. And let me tell you, that baby loved his tummy time. You were in the kitchen, preparing a light snack for you and Felix and a bottle of milk for Su-Jin. 

Humming to yourself, you smiled as you could hear Felix cooing to his little Su-Jin. “Hiii, angel boy. Are you enjoying tummy time?” Su-Jin only giggled and wriggled his chubby arms and legs around, loud squeals and giggles escaping his mouth. Felix smiled, covering his face with his hands. “Peek a boo!” He laughed, smiling brightly as Su-Jin giggled and tried looking around Felix's hands for his daddy. “Here I am, baby!” Felix smiled, his eyes forming crescent shapes as he uncovered his face with his hands, causing more matching giggles to fall from both Su-Jin and Felix’s lips.

He was laying on the floor, his chunky body clad in the cutest chicken onesie-courtesy of Felix, of course. Felix was laying on the floor in front of Su-Jin, holding a toy out in front of Su-Jin—the toy in question being a plush bbokari. “Jinnie, who is that? Is that bbokari?” He asked, moving the plushie’s arms to wave at his little one. “Hi, Jinnie. it’s me,bbokari!” The sight of his dearest plushie sending a rush of happy squeals through his system.

Su-Jin looooooved his bbokari. Felix had gifted it to him when he was born and now Su-Jin sleeps with it every night, without fail.Wherever Su-Jin went, bbokari went with him. The yellow plush toy clutched in his small arms, as he slept through the night, with soft white noise playing in the background. 

Angelic little high pitched Su-Jin giggles escaped through the air, as his small chubby hands made grabby gestures at the toy. “Do you want bbokari, my little bokkie?” Felix asked, as you moved to sit criss-cross applesauce, next to Felix. Sensing his mama’s presence, Su-Jin’s eyes lit up. He always knew when you were there, his mama senses going off in his little body.

You smiled and leaned forward to smatter an array of kisses to his chubby cheeks,setting his bottle down on the coffee table.. “Hi! Hi my boy!” You giggled, as he kicked his little legs, as a showing of glee and excitement. He had started crawling not too long ago, and soon enough his little legs and arms were carrying himself to you. Giggling, he plonked his little body onto your lap.

Smiling, you picked him up, holding him in front of your face. “Hi Jinnie. Hi my bokkie, awwww, look at you! You’re so cute!” You exclaimed, holding his little body close to yours, as he giggled and placed his hands against your cheeks. “Mommy has a bottle for you, bokkie. Do you want your baba, hm?” You smiled, rocking the baby on your lap.

Leaning forward, you grabbed the bottle, testing the temperature of the milk on your wrist. Not too warm, not too cold, just right. “Come here, pumpkin,” you cooed. Turning Su-Jin on your lap, you laid him across your chest, so he was being cradled. Tucking him against your chest, you smiled as he looked up at you, one of his small hands holding onto your shirt. “Here you go, my angel,” you whispered as you slipped the nipple of the bottle into his mouth, letting him drink.

Placing a kiss to your knee, Felix sat up to be level with you and pressed an open mouthed kiss to your  cheek. “Hi honey bear,” he whispered, resting his cheek against your shoulder as he watched Su-Jin drink.“Hi pixie poo,” You sighed out in return, your eyes looking at each other  softly. Placing a soft kiss to his cheek, you smiled. “We made a cutie, huh, lixie?” You smiled, as Su-Jin’s eyes started fluttering shut .

Setting the now empty bottle down, you smiled as the grip Su-Jin had on your shirt tightened, as his eyes closed. You gently patted his back, “sleepy baby, my sleepy boy.” You cooed, cradling him to your chest. Felix leaned over noticing how Su-Jin had fallen asleep, gripping your shirt with his cheek pressed against your shirt. “Angel boy is all pooped, huh?” Felix giggled, as he gently helped you stand up, walking the familiar path to Su-Jin’s nursery.. “Yeah, suppose we should put him down for his nap, lixie.” You said, rocking the sleeping baby. “Probably, it’s tiring being so cute.” He nodded in agreement. 

You loved his nursery, picking out the color scheme and decor, to  picking out the furniture. The walls painted a soft cream color, little pops of pastel yellow littering the room.  Su-Jin’s crib was cream colored wood, a soft mattress lying inside with cream and yellowed blankets tucked inside. Bbokari was lying in the crib, usually, unless he was with Su-Jin. Which was most of the time. You had a plush cream colored swiveling chair with a matching ottoman, a chair you and Felix had fallen asleep on many times, as you watched the sleeping babe. In the corner was a bookshelf, stocked full of baby books, small plushies. Most important, was his framed birth certificate and picture of you. Felix and Su-jin. Those sat on the middle shelf, where they were proudly on display. His nursery was warm, comforting and emanated love.

Holding a sleeping Su-Jin, you walked to his nursery with Felix following closely behind you. “Here we go, my angel boy,”Felix cooed,softly pushing the door open as you walked to his crib. “Nap time, my prince.” You whispered, noticing that he had completely fallen asleep. “Sssh, shhh. There we go, sweetheart,” You smiled, gently laying him in his crib, settling his bbokari plush in his arms.

He looked at peace. His small face and mind free of any worries? You suppose being a baby didn’t really have many worries, though. Just the next feeding time, when mama or papa would give you more cuddles. It seemed to be a peaceful time for Su-Jin. Just generally, he was a calm baby,though.

Funnily enough, when you gave birth the doctors were worried that he wasn’t crying. He was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. But, very very cute and chunky. Neonatal nurses checked him to be sure that everything was okay— and everything was. “Oh, I guess he’s just a quiet little bun.” The nurse told you, giggling when he seemed to grow more calm and serene in your arms. 

“Night night, my sweet pea,” You whispered, grazing your finger over his cheek, after pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well, my bokkie.”  Felix whispered, watching as his son slept. All the while, you were switching his small sun shaped night light on— a sun because he was your sunshine, along with Felix.

Ever so quietly, you made your way to the door, switching the light off. Turning to face Felix, you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I can’t believe we made him,” Felix whispered into your hair. Nodding against his chest,your fingertips traced soft shapes over the expanse of his back, that was covered in a soft cotton pajama shirt. “I know, but…he’s all ours, forever.” You smiled, peeking up at him through your eyelashes.

Locking eyes, you held a steady eye contact. Both of your eyes holding nothing but pure unadulterated love and adoration, for not only one another but for Su-Jin. Felix’s eyes were glimmering, stars dancing along his chocolate brown irises– akin to the freckles that danced along his cheeks.

You had seen that look in his eyes before, the first time being when he held Su-Jin for the first time. It was a level of love, different to the lovestruck eyes he gave you. It was a parental love. The kind of loving eyes your parents gave you, his parents gave him. There was no way to verbalize the look, it just held a different feeling of love. A love so pure, so unfiltered, so divinely strong that it brought tears to your eyes.

Yes, Felix always looked at you with love in his eyes. And, you did to him, as well. But the difference between the romantic love eyes  and parental love eyes was incomprehensible. Neither you or Felix were able to vocalize it. It was a feeling, a sense of deeper love, it was warm, comforting. The best you could compare it to was the feeling of wrapping a warm blanket– fresh from the dryer– around your body on a cold night or a hug from your loved ones. The warmth and feeling of a profound love  encompassed your being, surrounding you completely, pausing the world around you for that moment. 

Holding his hand in yours, you made your way back to the living room, where you pulled him to sit next to you on the couch. You and Felix had only been together for 1 year and 8 months–4 months before finding out you were pregnant, 9 months of you carrying baby Su-Jin and 7 months of being parents. But, you knew in your mind, your heart, your soul that you and Felix was the one, he was it for you. And, he felt the same. Every fiber of your being, every atom in your body told you that he was your life partner, your soulmate, your safety.

Looking into his eyes, you smiled. “Where do you see us in 5 years, lixie?” A conversation you had before, knowing you;d still be with one another. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, nestling his cheek on the top of your hair. “You know where I see us,” he giggled, his hand patting your outer thigh. “Still, I wanna know.” You giggled back.

Did you know? Yes. But, you loved hearing him tell you anyway. 

Chuckling, he took your hand in his, his thumb grazing your ring finger. “ I see us married, with another kid or maybe two more . In our own house, the color scheme is cream and soft colors. Our house is cozy, welcoming, loving, just like you. When you walk in, it smells like freshly baked brownies–made by yours truly. Su-Jin and his sibling or siblings running around while you’re playing with them. A dog running around– a golden retriever or king charles cavalier spaniel somewhere around the house.” He relayed to you, as you looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

“No matter how many times you tell me, it never gets old,” you whispered. Cupping your cheek, he ran his thumb under your eyes, wiping your tears. “My sunshine, our relationship may have been new and just starting, but my love for you will never get old. Even when we’re old and wrinkly, my love for you will be as brightly burning as the day we met.”

Little did you know, he already bought the ring and it was tucked away in his nightstand

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♡Please don’t steal, copy, edit, translate, repost (on any platform), plagiarize, paraphrase or in anyway claim my works♡ AStraySimp est 2023♡

🏷️ @mellhwang ; @autumn583 ; @hyunsvngs ; @hotchnrz ; @galamxy ; @ebbaskz ; @turtledove824 ; @galaxycatdrawz ; @fawnpeaks ; @bigsobs4skz ; @143lix ; @bangchans-babygirlgirl ; @aaasia111 ; @reid-deiri ; @tenshimara ; @dancerachaslut ; @peachygirlsthings ; @saturnandgold ; @justscrollinthrough ; @jesuisstay ; @shinywolfbears ; @lewoh-ot8-wh0re ; @alnex05 ; @mixtape-racha ; @shujohajohaminnie ; @heartheartisa ; @skzstaykatsy ; @manuosorioh ; @whosanaanyway ; @cvntywonyo ; @notastraykid ; @jinnie-ret♡

[divine-misfortune]

Quint ghouls quint ghouls quint ghouls !!

I've been meaning to do these designs for a while @wrathofrats and I have been talking about all of the older ghouls for a long ass time we've been thinking so hard on them.

Ghoul thoughts below the cut :)

Ps: pls ask me abt my old ghoul lore I'll die for u

Omega

First quintessence ghoul. Has always been Papa's right hand man.

When not touring, he helped in the infirmary but after retirement took a much more hands on role there.

His magic is more attuned to healing than the others. Is the only one of them able to mend more than surface level injuries.

Warm, and soft voiced. Omega is an inviting and stable presence in the ministry. He is kind and patient, human enough in behavior the ministry allows him to speak publicly, to give interviews and speak to the adoring masses.

Delta

Initially a water ghoul, he was the first elemental transition. His transition was not authorized by the clergy, the timing just happened to be convenient.

Like the water ghouls before him, cursed by an element that refuses to be tamed, Delta was bound to reverting back to his base ghoulish nature. Turn feral, if you will. He sought about saving himself, but in turn damned himself to a new fate.

His vessel is not suited to harbor an element like quintessence, and as time went on, the unstable energy inside of him began to eat away at him. Mentally and physically, he was decaying. It changed him in a way nobody could have predicted.

Delta is cold and distant, more so than he ever was as a water ghoul. There is something deeply, deeply unsettling about him.

His magic is weak and a little unpredictable. Rarely allowed to be used on others, Omega makes sure he does not get too involved in the infirmary and its affairs.

Aether

Delta's replacement, one they found quickly and quietly. Aether just seemingly appeared one day, and with his arrival Delta practically went missing in action.

Terzo's first successful quintessence ghoul, something Aether is a bit prideful of. Also had a hand in summoning the rest of his pack.

Studied quite closely with Omega, but had an insatiable curiosity to explore their element more. A tad reckless with it at first, there were several siblings that seemingly disappeared after last being seen with Aether that the clergy scrubbed from their records.

Was fairly tightly wound when he was summoned but has since become much more approachable given time. His nature is quite loving, a very "others before himself" mentality. Charming, dangerously so. Older siblings tend to warn about the honey he speaks, but nobody believes someone as calming as Aether could ever truly be that bad.

His magic is an internal thing. Attuned closer to the brain than the body, sure he can heal but only surface level injuries for the most part. He's much better at tinkering around in your skull than anything.

Retired of his own volition.

Phantom

Newest quintessence ghoul.

Was the first ghoul Copia summoned without assistance.

Much smaller than the previous ghouls of his element, he compensates with a larg personality that is he's really just starting to settle into. Mostly sweet, a little naive. He's picking up his packs bad habits, mostly Dew's excessive use of the word 'fuck'.

Unlike those before him, Phantom's magic is hardly useful for things like healing. He can fix your headaches, but that's about it. Phantom's quintessence, while somewhat similar to Aether's, is mostly new to the clergy. Shadow magic. It's a little unstable, not like Delta's, more he's just unfamiliar with how to control it. Tends to get a little wispy around the edges because of it.

[empty-fantasies]

Burning

Love involving Mortefi is like a flickering flame; fueled by blazing passion and embraced by gentle affection

Character(s) Included: Mortefi

gn!reader, fluff, mindless ramblings from eden once again

It takes an attentive and mindful approach to endure the fiery passion known as Mortefi’s love.

Treading carefully at the beginning of the flaming romance, as if one wrong move would create a gust of wind and take out the flame you had oh-so-painstakingly pined after for so long. It was no easy feat to come to terms with your ever growing love for the Head of the Tacetite Weaponry Branch. Nor was it any less difficult to accept the possibility of rejection should you carelessly smother that fire by beating around the bush about your sudden awkwardness the manifested upon realization.

Patience was required when the meter approaches its limits and manifests in frequent groans of frustration and a near permanent frown. The flame, as you have learned, can easily burn you if you’re not careful with your own words. He’s a straightforward man, after all. Which was evident in his rather blunt way of confessing to you that eventful day and something that had always seemingly caught you off guard in unsuspecting moments. Would you complain about this? Not at all, contrary to your playful complaints that your heart was far too fragile for such (Mortefi would rather admit to defeat against Xiangli Yao before ever confessing openly around others that he simply adored your varied reactions).

Love, in the way that Mortefi expresses it, was all consuming. There was no lack of effort on his part. A point was made for each planned date and every little moment of exploration that no words were needed to express the everlasting devotion he had for you and only you. Determination to perfect everything despite your constant reassurances that occasional mishaps and derailed plans (due to a certain someone’s habit of sacrificing his sleep every now and then) happen. It engulfed your entire being; heart, mind, and soul. Overwhelming as it may sound, you welcomed it fully and returned just as much by fanning the flames, having quickly become accustomed to the heat long before you even realized it yourself. Much to your surprise, you too have also found yourself adopting new habits just to show as much appreciation and effort as he does.

As consuming as it is, Mortefi does have an uncharacteristic gentleness that many are not privy to picking up by mere observation alone. A comforting warmth, one that reminded you of serenity found in a cup of tea on a winter night spent in bed. You wouldn’t deny that you were a bit selfish in wanting to keep this warmth to yourself at first—desiring nothing more than to bask in the fact of knowing that only you were able to experience such without limits.

Sweet-tempered fingers would dance across your skin, taking hold of your hand in silent moments when either of you are finishing up reports. Tenderhearted words responding to your curious questions about the classical music to echoes softly every now and then. A rare pink hue dancing across his cheeks the moment any small praise falls from your lips. As the fervent flames roar of adoration, they also invoke a sense of comfort shared just between the two of you. There were no walls other than the ones that shielded this flame of love from gusty winds of doubt and weariness. To bask in such has made you realize that perhaps that selfish desire for keeping it to yourself was a wish instead to keep this flame alive—to endure all this is to come in the future.

Mortefi’s love is an ardent flame; ever-consuming in the way that he has to make it known where his heart resides. Yet, it is also a soothing warmth marked by the solace found in butterfly kisses and gentle gazes. To you, the ever curious lover of his, the heat is gladly welcomed each and every single time.