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malyen0retsev · 3 years

Text

Malina Appreciation Week - Day 1. “Poetry”

(Also on AO3)

Mal tries to write poetry for Alina. Tolya is not exactly helpful. Also references made by Tamar to that time Mal and Tolya collectively lost their braincells and Tolya tattooed "I am become a blade" on Mal's back.

Mal felt like an idiot, and Tolya was not exactly helping. His dear friend was a man of few words, who was more preoccupied with feeding Oncat scraps of chicken whilst humming to himself. The ginger cat was purring like an engine reminiscent of the kind Nikolai used to toy about with, Mal thought to himself with a grin on his face. He wasn't sure how frequently Nikolai paraded around as Sturmhond anymore; from Nikolai and Zoya's recent visits, it seemed they had quite enough to be getting on within the Ravkan borders.

Tolya and Tamar had come to visit Mal and Alina for the day, and after dinner Mal had dragged Tolya into the kitchen while Alina (giving Mal a slightly bemused look) had gone into the living room with Tamar.

"I need your help," Mal had hissed, as Tolya had scooped Oncat up from the ground and started kissing the cat's head.

"Yes?"

"I want to do something nice for Alina."

Tolya had raised an eyebrow at that, still tightly cuddling Oncat. "Can you not do that just by... existing?"

"Tolya."

"Of course I will help."

"Good. How do you write poetry, Tolya?" Mal had asked, blushing furiously.

A huge grin had erupted across Tolya's face at that, and he had sat down at the table, instructing Mal to bring over paper and a pencil (all whilst still petting Oncat). That had been half an hour ago. They had made next to no progress since. For a man so devoted to epic poetry, Tolya truly was getting far too distracted from poetry by a cat.

"The words just... pour out of you," Tolya said, after Mal finally got tired of Tolya's attentions to Oncat and firmly prodded him with a pencil. "You write from the heart, my friend. Imagine your deepest thoughts, visualise them, let them turn into words, and you write that down."

"In what world is that helpful advice at all?!"

Tolya shrugged. "Poetry is written from the heart. You have to start there," he said, leaning forwards to press his palm against Mal's chest.

"I wouldn't know how to even begin describing Alina in words," mumbled Mal. "She... she's blazingly, gloriously bright even without her powers."

"Sol Koroleva," Tolya said with a smile on his face. "She will forever be the Sun Saint to us."

"How do you even structure poetry, what do you do when you write it Tolya?"

"I just... write," Tolya said simply. "I don't overthink it. It flows out. Stop thinking and write. Write from the heart, from the soul." He paused, looking his friend in the eye. "I once told her you watch her like Harshaw used to watch fire. Like you'll never get enough of her. Yet she is still here, with you. That oath I placed on your back was a promise you made long before the vows you made in a chapel."

Mal momentarily felt guilty for wondering if Tolya would be of more use disguised as a tree than helping him write words on paper.

-------------------------

"If they're not out of that kitchen in ten minutes, I'm hauling them out," Tamar said flatly, draining the last of the tea from her mug. She gestured at the living room door. "Those two should not be left alone with each other. I don't trust they're not up to something stupid."

Alina grinned, relishing the bluntness with which Tamar spoke. She always realised just how much she missed the Bataar twins when she saw them again; Tolya's gentle loyalty and kindness, and Tamar's firey personality and ferocity. They balanced each other out, both physically strong, but also mentally strong in completely different ways. They had always been steadfast friends to her and Mal, and she was glad of Tamar's company.

"What could they possibly be up to in a kitchen?" Alina pointed out.

Tamar gave Alina a dark look. "They found time to tattoo Mal's back whilst we were on the run in tunnels."

Alina choked on her tea. "What?! That's when they did that?!"

Tamar nodded. "Has Mal never told you about this?"

"I mean, we've talked about the tattoo. Why he got it, what it symbolises, and... I do love it, Tamar. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, I'm not judging the tattoo itself at all. We are all blades for you, my love," Tamar said, flashing a grin. "Even now, the moment you asked us to, we would be here immediately. I am not mocking the tattoo. I'm mocking that Mal and Tolya decided that was the priority."

"When?!"

"Do you remember the tunnels were interrupted by a lot of waterfalls? You were sleeping one night, and I was on watch and noticed them holding blankets above their heads and sneaking off through one of the waterfalls. I just... decided not to question it. The two of them really encourage each other to do very stupid things."

"And?"

"Well, Zoya woke up."

Alina laughed quietly. "And of course once Zoya was awake, there was no hiding that they had vanished."

"Course not. And Zoya is very suspicious. It didn't help that at that point, I could hear that Mal's heart rate had slowed right down, as slow as you can get without being asleep. So Zoya and I went on an investigation."

Alina put her head in her hands. "And you found Tolya tattooing Mal?"

"We did indeed. Tolya had never even tattooed anyone before. When I asked him why he thought this was a good idea, he looked at me like I was an idiot and said, 'Because Mal asked me to.' As if that answers the question."

"What did Zoya have to say?"

"Well, Zoya was lost for words momentarily - I know," Tamar grinned, "it shocked me too seeing her silent. And she then went 'What are you doing?'"

Alina raised her eyebrows.

"And Tolya just muttered back 'This is a secret', whilst whacking Mal with a needle covered in ink, so I'm not entirely sure how secret that is... and I asked why Mal's heartbeat had been lowered so much, and Tolya said, 'Because when it was normal he was prattling on about how he could hear and taste the ink and hear and taste his own thoughts, and I decided he needed to not do that.'"

"And then you left them to it?"

"Zoya just called them idiots and wanted to go back to sleep, so I decided she was being sensible. And that is the story."

Alina was silent for a moment, doing her best not to burst out laughing. "But... we were in tunnels!!! It was dark!!! How could Tolya even see?!"

"I didn't ask. I just decided they were being idiots, and I didn't want to know."

Alina stole another glance at the door. "Give them five more minutes. Then we drag them out, just in case they've decided to experiment with the combined use of a bread knife and the kitchen table - please, don't ask," she added as Tamar gave her an alarmed look.

-------------------------

Hours later, after the twins had left weighed down with pockets full of sweets from the larder, and hearts full of love from their friends, Alina rolled over in bed to rest her chin on Mal's chest.

"So," she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "what were you talking to Tolya about?"

A flush began to spread across Mal's cheeks.

"It can't be any worse than the story of you two skulking around in the tunnels to get your tattoo done."

"How did you - Tamar told you," Mal said flatly, as he put two and two together.

Alina gave him a light shove. "Yes, and I can't believe you never told me! It's hilarious! I love the tattoo, I'm not mocking that, but why on earth did you two think then was the right time to do that?!"

Mal tucked a loose strand of Alina's hair behind her ear. "Because I didn't know if we were going to be caught. I wanted that vow on my body before that could happen."

The jokiness left Alina's eyes, and she reached up to kiss him. "I love you," she whispered, and Mal felt a warmth spread across his body.

He continued stroking her hair. "Do you actually want to know what I was talking to Tolya about?"

Alina nodded, shyly this time.

"I was trying to get him to teach me how to write poetry," Mal said quietly. "I wanted to write poetry for you. But it turns out... I'm awful at poetry."

Alina grinned up at him. "I love that you tried."

"The thing is," Mal said, wrapping his arms around Alina and pulling her up so she was lying directly on top of him, "I can't put into words the way you make me feel..." (he kissed her on the forehead) "... or the way you smell..." (he kissed her on the cheek) "... or the way you fit so perfectly in my arms..." (he kissed her on the neck) "... or the way you taste..." he trailed off, gently brushing her lips with his. "No words would ever do you justice."

Alina's hands were cradling his face then, her forehead resting against his. "That there... that was poetry, Mal," she whispered. "And you are all I need."

She kissed him again, and the world faded away as Mal was overwhelmed in the feel, the smell, the taste, the sound of Alina.

Maybe Tolya did have a point. Poetry was just words from the heart. Mal was just better at saying them, not writing them down.

#mine #my writing #look i wanted to write tolya and tamar ok #and this gave me the perfect opportunity!!!#alina x mal #malina #mal oretsev #alina starkov #tolya yul bataar #tamar kir bataar #grishaverse #malinaweek

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e-milieeee · 4 years

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haunted

Summary: When Gabriel goes a step too far, Plagg has decided he’s had enough.

Meanwhile, Gabriel Agreste has discovered that his house may or may not be haunted, because a vengeful spirit certainly seems to be after him.

Notes: basically plagg being a little gremlin and trolling gabriel like he deserves. ft. gabe’s 3 remaining braincells. based on this post by @hamsternamedmarinette and @snail-noir im sorry its so crappy lol

haunted

“Well,” Adrien is saying as he trudges inside the room and kicks the door shut. “There’s that, then.”

Plagg flits out from his shirt. His face is set in an angry mask, tail sticking straight up. “That’s that?” he echoes. “No, that’s absurd! Your father’s absurd! He should come back here and I’ll give him a piece of my mind and—”

Adrien squeezes his eyes shut. “Plagg, it’s fine. Forget it.”

Plagg makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. “So you’re just gonna take that? For weeks? He has no right.”

In his hand is the piece of paper—now crumpled—that his father had shoved into his fingers before he stormed off: the schedule for the fashion show. It runs for a week, but there’s also a terrifying amount of preparations to be done two weeks prior—all of which his father had decided he needed to be present for.

“I can’t risk making father angry,” Adrien settles with.

Plagg folds his arms. “Fine,” his kwami says curtly, in a manner of speaking that Adrien always finds hard to argue with. “Hypothetically speaking, then, if your father found out his plans had been cata—destroyed, would you be allowed to go out?”

“Plagg, I’m not going to break into my father’s study as Chat Noir to cataclysm his work just so I can go out with friends.”

Plagg smiles at him. It’s the smile Adrien had often gotten before he’d discovered the toilet paper in his washroom all scratched up and littering the floor. “Don’t worry,” comes the reply. “You won’t have to.”

***

Gabriel Agreste’s study is locked, but that doesn’t prove a problem for the small black shape that slips through the doors like they’re made of nothing more than mist. It’s dark, but cats have always seen better at night anyway.

There, on the top of his desk, lies the designs for the first set of clothes that are to be showcased. Meticulous notes. Fabric samples. Timing and schedules. Signatures and contracts.

The small, black cat picks the folder up with two paws. Then it crumbles into dust.

***

“Nathalie, did you touch the folder on my desk?”

It’s been a long morning—Gabriel had been up at 4 AM in an attempt to see if he could get an edge on Ladybug and Chat Noir. It had been horrendous to find someone to akumatize so early, and by the time he’d pinpointed his victim—forty five minutes later—he had nearly fallen asleep. He’d been pummelled by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Absolutely pummelled. And then, as if the situation couldn't help but get worse, Audrey Bourgeois had called him at six (just when he was about to go back to bed) and told him she couldn’t make it to the fashion show.

That woman had no regard for timezones. And no regard for him, either, because part of the marketing for the fashion week was Audrey’s attendance.

Gabriel was considering akumatizing himself when he realized the manila folder on his desk—that had been there when he left the night prior—was nowhere to be seen.

He searches through all his files. Crawls under his desk. Checks his lair. It's gone.

“Nathalie!” he bellows again, and she comes barrelling through the door to his office.

“What is it, sir?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath. “Have you seen the files for the fashion show? It was in the folder on my desk when I left.”

“Sir, I haven’t been in your office since last night, and I’m certain I saw your files there. Are you sure you haven’t misplaced it?”

Misplaced it, yeah. That’s what it was. Probably.

Now, what he needed was a nap.

***

The files do not turn up. Gabriel sends Nathalie to print them out again. The most important stuff is stored on his computer, but there are signatures he’d spent weeks getting.

He locks the files in his drawer the next time he gets it.

***

Tuesday morning finds Gabriel Agreste feeling much more refreshed. He even joins Adrien for three minutes during breakfast.

He walks into his office to find his favourite coffee mug in smithereens on the ground.

The files are still stored safely in his drawer. But there is a big, ugly tear across the dress he’d been working on for the past three months.

Gabriel screams.

***

Gabriel Agreste isn’t a fan of security cameras in his office. Especially because anyone with some hacking ability could possibly get their hands on the tape, and the last thing he needs is someone seeing him descending into his lair, or opening the safe behind his painting. Really—there’s simply too many sketchy things he’s done in the office for him to trust putting a camera there.

But he installs two of them nonetheless. His coffee mug could be an accident. But that rip on the dress? No, the only explanation is that it was intentional. But how?

Gabriel thinks of possibilities until he gives himself a headache.

***

“Father seems stressed lately,” Adrien notes to Plagg. There’s not much time for himself between busy schedules, but the moments in between he catches to talk to his kwami. The past week, stuck alone in his room with barely any interaction with his friends, has been draining. He cherishes the precious minutes he gets to spend with Plagg.

“Does he?” Plagg asks in a tone of practiced disinterest. “Well, he does have that really important fashion week thing coming up.”

“He asked me if I’d broken into his study a day ago, but he always locks his study. I think some of his files were missing.”

“Oh?” Plagg replies. “That’s terrible misfortune.”

“Father says he thinks a thief snuck in in the middle of the night and stole them, but we have security cameras all around the house and nothing happened.”

“Spooky.”

“Plagg…”

Plagg only shrugs. “Perhaps your house is haunted,” he replies disinterestedly. “Good thing you’re not scared of ghosts, Adrien.”

***

The house is haunted, and Gabriel cannot sleep.

The most terrifying part of watching the footage is that he sees nothing. There is no movement. No nothing. But then, the next morning, his files inside the locked drawer have disappeared.

Nathalie asks him about the dark rings around his eyes. He drinks two more cups of coffees in response.

***

Gabriel’s eyes are burning, but he’s determined to stay awake.

He likes to think himself neat and meticulous, but even he has his breaking point—his desk is littered with coffee cups, and he’s resorted to drinking energy drinks to keep himself awake. There’s less than ten days until the fashion show starts. It’s been so heavy on his schedule that he’s barely found time to akumatize three three people the past week.

Ladybug and Chat Noir must be having a field day while he’s sitting miserably in his office, waiting to catch the thief, too exhausted to summon up more akumas.

The clock ticks past midnight. Gabriel nearly faceplants into a coffee mug.

Another cup of redbull.

By the time it’s two in the morning, nothing shocking in particular has happened. Every time the flashing light of a car drives past the front of the house he starts, sits back down, and struggles to keep his eyes open.

It’s 2:04 when a crash sounds outside of his office.

Like a madman, Gabriel scrambles up from his seat. He knocks over a half-finished mug of coffee in the process, but that doesn’t matter. The door of his office slams open. He trips on a rug. But he gets up and runs like he’s never run before.

With all the force he can muster, he slams his palm down on the light, and the once-dark staircase and hall become bathed in golden light. The chandelier flickers twice and he stares down at the hall with half the mind to wonder if he’s going to finally see the ghost.

Gabriel is the only one in the hall.

He checks once more. Then again. Then again. But there is no one there, no source of the crash—

Oh, no.

The painting he’d bid at an auction twelve years ago—one that had cost a fortune—has fallen off the wall and face planted into the floor. The sight of it physically hurts Gabriel, and he’s scrambling towards it in a mixture of fear and anger when another noise sounds in his office.

In the months of being Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste has felt a generous range of emotions. But never has he felt such bone-chilling fear.

He heads back up the steps with robotic movements numbly. Down the corridor. Into his office.

There is no one there, and the mess that has been made is moreso his fault than of the invisible thief—or ghost—but then Gabriel sees one of his locked drawers open and the contents inside dumped unceremoniously on the ground.

The next day, when Nathalie finds him out cold on the ground, he attributes it to the exhaustion and the amount of coffee and energy drinks he’d consumed. But deep down, Gabriel knows that it’s the terror that’s finally caught up.

Either way, he faints.

***

Gabriel is confined to bed by a very concerned Nathalie. She usually heeds to his instructions, but the rare insistence from her and his own fatigue lands him out of commission for the day. It doesn’t stop him, however, from giving her a set of instructions.

“First, my office,” Gabriel croaks. His throat hurts—he must’ve caught a cold as well. “Please clean everything up and reinstall the locks. And then… and then…”

He thinks of the missing files—three times—and grits his teeth. “Cancel the fashion week.”

Nathalie’s jaw drops open. “Sir—”

“I know,” Gabriel mutters. “I just… I’m left with no choice. I’ll reschedule. Make up some excuse.”

She dips her head. “Noted, sir. Is that all?”

Gabriel gives her a miserable nod. She’s halfway out the door when he remembers.

“Nathalie!” he yells. “Get me a shaman, too.”

***

“The fashion week is cancelled.” Adrien looks up from practicing piano. “Father is sick, I think, which might be why. Nathalie looked super stressed when I saw her before my lessons.”

“Cancelled?” Plagg echoes dispassionately. “Huh. That’s too bad, I guess.”

“No, that’s good! I mean, it’s not good that my father is sick and Nathalie is stressed, but… at least I won’t be hounded about preparations. I even got permission to go out today.”

“Huh,” Plagg replies. He settles himself into his wheel of cheese. “I guess you’re lucky after all, then.”

Notes: yeah idk what i wrote but master fu is the shaman they hire and he finds out gabriel is hawkmoth and arrests him and the end if u wanna know what happens next

Here’s my fics masterlist!

#miraculous ladybug #gabriel agreste #plagg #adrien agreste #ml #nathalie #hawkmoth #plagg is mvp n i dont take criticism!#mlb fic #my writing #tag this gabenath and i hunt u down

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toutallyahoe · 4 years

Note

Hey, it me, a dumb sleeby bitch. I know you're not taking requests. So I'm gonna leave this at your doorstep and if you ever want to do it, go for it. No pressure. But pls if you ever have time and motivation, could you give me some cute sleepy headcanons for any of our very good cowboys? Thanks in advance and I love you and everything you do. You're amazing.

i would literally write a fucking book for you-- i have told you this so many already asdfghjkl

but ya want some of the good boahs and some cute sleepy headcanons? BOI I AM IN!

also, before i continue-- CALL YERSELF DUMB BITCH AGAIN AND I WILL gently KICK YER ASS and hug you to death because ya ain't dumb or else i am more dumber than a fucking rock you sweet, talented smort, beautiful fecker!

AND ANOTHER THING !!! *sobs* HOW CAN YE DO THIS TO ME?!? SHOOTING ME WITH A SURPRISE COMPLIMENT-- ACK ME HEART! I FEEL M U S H ASDFGHJKKLXNBSOHD

okay, i calmed down now... onto the headcanons! btw, multiple characters because ya didn't specify who you want in this headcanon and because i knew yer beautiful ass would like more than one boah

⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃⁃

Arthur Morgan

• first off, best boah right here

• second off, this bitch won't admit he is sleepy even if his life depends on it

• is it pride???

• probably...

• definitely

• i dont know, i see Arthur as one to not really say anything he feels because he doesn't want to be a bother or thinks he'll be a dead weight

• because life as an outlaw? it ain't really the best life

• so, when there are jobs that takes a few days and he volunteers to take watch, Arthur won't admit he is tired and would continue on be on guard no matter how many times he is asked to get his ass some rest

• it'll be a pain in the ass if you aren't patient enough or very worried about him

• because knowing Arthur, he'll just suck it up

• so, if he is sleepy, his [Name] is on his ass immediately

• "you need rest"

• "don't need nothin"

• he IS stubborn as fuck

• and also incredibly more sassier when he is sleepy

• it honestly sometimes annoy [Name]

• "Arthur, you look like you're goin to pass out-- jesus christ! just rest already!"

• Arthur is too stubborn for his own good

• and it sometimes lead to some arguments really

• but [Name] will be the first to give up when he just sees Arthur and sighs

• [Name] will sit by his side and just talk about stuff

• trying to make Arthur relax and at ease

• he'll be sassy at first but will ease up and comment genuinely

• Arthur will then unconsciously place his head on his [Name]'s shoulder as the [Hair color] haired man's voice drowns his thoughts with stories of the past (either his or [Name]'s past)

• before you know it, Arthur "sleep is for the dead" Morgan is fucking asleep

• [Name] notices how quiet Arthur and will turn his head to see the outlaw asleep

• [Name] just smiles at Arthur and place his head on Arthur's and let a content sigh as he close his eyes

• they'll be fine sleeping for a bit

John Marston

• best greasy dumbass raccoon looking ass bitch

• but-- ahem

• like Arthur, John will be stubborn at first

• it's pride and John doesn't want to get babied really

• he already gets that enough from the rest of the gang since he is a real life predatory bait and gets mauled by a lot of animals

• honestly, this man has the shittiest luck

• but also lucky in some way...?

• but yeah... ANYWAYS

• when John gets tired, he is functioning with no braincells (like he doesn't already)

• [Name] is honestly tired with it

• just fucking glaring the shit outta that greasy raccoon boi

• then maybe...just maybe, you can get him to rest his greasy ass

• John will be a bit of a whiny bitch to be honest

• like, he'll whine he ain't sleepy

• but as if it was on cue, he'll yawn

• John looking a bit embarrassed and [Name] looking at him with that "really?" look

• [Name] ain't dealing with yer bullshit raccoon boi

• i can definitely see [Name] restraining John from running away and carry the guy to his tent and slam his in the cot and glare and order John to stay and sleep like a damn dog

• John would be honestly pissed because DAMN IT [NAME]! YA HAVE TO DO THAT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?!? ARTHUR AND SEAN AIN'T GOING TO LIVE THIS DOWN (because those two are bastards... lovable bastards though asdfgghjkl)

• but also turned on but pfft-- he won't admit that

• but yeah, [Name] just sitting on the side of his bed and will not leave until he makes sure John rest

• "you ain't leavin, are you?"

• "i aint leavin till i see yer ass sleep, Marston"

• yikes, getting called his by his last name? usually his [Name] does that when he is annoyed or angry at time

• that when John know he ain't getting out of this

• "aight... fine! i'll sleep! happy?"

• "very"

• to be honest, John feels happy when [Name] does that

• it's because this is how his [Name]'s care for him and it is sweet

• a bit annoying but sweet

• John sleeps and [Name] softly sighs and place a soft kiss on John's forehead and leaves the tent to do his work

Leonard "Lenny" Summers

• pure child

• pure child who can never do anything wrong

• just, this fucking boah is pure child who can never do anything wrong and y'all can fight me is ya say he aint

• ANYWAYS

• Lenny is adorable when he is sleepy

• just utterly adorable as fuck and his [Name] just smiles at how cute he is

• like, Lenny is reading a book under a tree and the day was just a lovely day despite it being so fucking boring

• Lenny planned to read but as the calm breeze pass by him, it didn't take long for Lenny to be yawning and his eyelids dropping but the young man is trying so hard to fight the sleep off and stay awake

• honestly, [Name] saw Lenny sleepy but being too stubborn to admit defeat with sleep will try to stay awake

• [Name] is just amused by it and found it adorable

• always adorable with Lenny

• but anyways, Lenny would be one of the submissive out of everyone if you ask him to go to sleep when he is tired

• will literally not fight back on it because his mind shuts down from the sleepiness

• honestly? will act like a baby

• because he is a baby and [Name] loves him so much and spoils him

• "come on Lenny, let's get ya to yer cot"

• "hmmm, [Name]? can you carry me there... please?"

• just adorable akdbjqjdjsjfjjsjd

• me baby

• aNYWAYS

• Lenny is just a good boah

• like, he gives up rather quickly because he knew his [Name] is looking out for him and besides, if he says yes? he gets cuddles

• so yeah, that's good for him

• Lenny gets warm cuddles and sleeps well in the arms of his [Name] who holds him very close and just being soft boahs

Sean MacGuire

• loud and dumb irish bastard who stole me heart

• i adore him asdfghjkl

• but ON TO THE HEADCANONS

• Sean is a whiny loud ass bitch when he is sleepy

• he acts like he seems drunk

• and it is both hilarious and tiresome for [Name] because he is the one dealing with this shit

• i can see Sean just clinging to his [Name] and yelling on the top of his lungs on how tired he was

• and his [Name] rubbing his temple and tell Sean to get to bed then

• "[Name]! there ye are ye beautiful fecker! i have been looking all over fer ye"

• "and why is that?"

• "i'm sleepyyy"

• "then rest Sean"

• "but i dont want to!"

• honestly acts like a kid

• a loud ass bratty kid...

• it's not even cute

• kinda

• okay, [Name] finds it adorable but he ain't telling no one shit because he already suffers from a sleepy Sean who acts like a drunk toddler

• he doesn't want to deal with everyone teasing him on being soft with his drunk toddler lover

• but yeah

• like John, i can definitely see [Name] try to restrain this dumb bastard

• probably had to hoagtie Sean if i had to be honest

• which may or may not have the sleepy minded Sean blurt out something that made [Name] exasperatedly sigh and a bit flustered

• because-- goD DAMN IT SEAN! stop being a thirsting bastard for a bit and get some sleep?!?

• "Sean, keep this up and I'm goin to hoagtie you..."

• "that's a bit kinky [Name]-- but yer boy is always happy to please ye--"

• "oh my lords-- Sean!"

Charles Smith

• stronk hunt boah

• he is just so beautiful-- im gonna cry asdfgghjkl

• bUT ANYWAYS

• Charles won't admit it outloud when he is sleepy

• he is usually reserved and quiet anyways so his [Name] has to pick up some signals when Charles is sleepy

• but Charles won't be so stubborn about it though

• like, he is kinda like Lenny, a bit submissive and giving in on his [Name]'s words if the man tells him to sleep

• well, if [Name] finds out he is sleepy that is

• when this boah is sleepy, he usually sits in a somewhere in a shade and looks at the sky

• preferably under a tree and away from camp for a bit because honestly, the camp is just too noisy at times

• so yeah

• [Name] will notice him not doing anything and just cloud watching and will sit by him

• Charles would send him a small smile and a nod

• the two would just be quiet and after sometime, Charles would lay his head on [Name]'s lap as the [Hair color] haired man braids his hair and then undoing it again, repeatedly doing the action for a bit

• it honestly soothes Charles a lot

• just his [Name] playing with his hair which he is the only who can

• it was nice and with him already be sleepy, Charles would be lull to sleep

• and with that, Cahrles is softly snoring in his [Name]'s lap as the [Hair color] haired man undoes the braid again and then look at Charles' sleeping face fondly then look at the view in front of him with a gentle smile

• it doesn't take long for [Name] to sleep too with that

Javier Escuella

• a man after me own heart

• honestly, this man is just gorgeous asdfghjkl

• BUT BACK TO HEADCANONS

• Javier would probably be the only one who ACTUALLY goes to his tent and sleep in his cot

• maybe drag [Name] there because the mexican just want a nice cuddle you know?

• honestly, sleepy Javier is adorable to his [Name]

• Javier's mind just shuts down and he forgets how to speak in english and mumbles in spanish until he falls asleep

• i can also see Javier being one to plop himself down on his [Name]'s lap when the guy is sitting somewhere (below a tree or on a seat) because when is sleepy-- he loses his braincells and all functioning

• Javier just searches for his [Name] and throws himself because one, his boah can carry him alright anyways and two, he just loves too

• his [Name] is honestly amused because Javier won't be like this when he is functioning well

• well, not all the time

• but yeah

• [Name] thinks it's cute and will hug his lover

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