"Thanks Again For The Braids."

"Thanks again for the braids."

Astra's fingers kept dancing in your hair with swift but expert movements as she stood behind you. You internally wondered how she managed to manipulate your hair so easily with her prosthetic arm. Her eyes were slightly squinted in concentration but her facial expression remained welcoming. Your gazes met through the looking glass and you shared a smile.

"No problem !" she smiled. "Told you that this hairstyle was more convenient for missions."

"True," you nodded. "Since you styled my hair for that mission a few days ago, I think I adopted that hairstyle. No more hair in my face while aiming nor any Omega bastard yanking at it."

She finally finished her arts on your head and looked at the result with a proud smile. You returned her smile and moved your head to admire your new hairstyle.

"Castor oil really did some miracle on your hair," she hummed, her hands gently squeezing your shoulders. "They seem longer and healthier."

You relished on the feeling of her touch and your smile widened slightly.

"Yep ! I didn't forget the olive oil either, don't worry."

You leaned back in your chair and nuzzled the back of your head against her torso.

"Thanks again, Efia," you murmured.

A thank for taking care of you and for this moment of bonding.

Astra looked down and directly looked at you in the eyes and you could feel her affection more intensely.

"Once again, there is no problem."

Sparring is something that you did so casually with Grog. There were no hostility between you two. It was all fun and banter. But you two respected the other, and because of that, you would never dare going easy on the other. It would be the biggest insult you'd throw at the other.

"Not bad, big guy !" you smiled as you dodged another attack.

It was a show combining strength and agility. Instinct and strategy. Grog and you. You were both doing your best for the other, showing your love and your respect through your movements and attacks.

"Thanks !" he grinned as he threw another attack that you also dodged. "Beer after that ?"

"Yep !"

Even though your sparring always ended with a draw, there were not one time when you weren't satisfied. And there were not one time you weren't getting scold by Pike because of your bruises. But you did not care. You both spent the quality time moment that you needed. Sharing blows and smiles, dodging and laughing... It was one of the many ways you had to show your affection. Of course, there were his bone crushing hugs, and you couldn't escape any. You didn't want to, anyway.

"Let's try the double axes, tomorrow," he murmured once Pike turned her back.

"Deal."

"You won't give me a goodnight kiss ?"

The very obvious pout on Grog's lips made you chuckle. The almost innocence in his eyes as he stared at you with his puppy-like eyes (if a puppy could break someone's jaw with one flick of a finger) that could melt your heart. But you knew that under his endearing gaze and the softness of his large calloused hands when he touched your skin hid a mischievous side that you were the only one to know.

"The hug wasn't enough ?" you chuckled.

"Of course not !" he crossed his arms.

You rolled your eyes playfully then laughed.

"I patted your head and hugged you, Grog."

"But you didn't kiss me," he huffed, his pout still.

You sighed then took his face between your hands. You took your sweet time, observing the lively spark in his eyes as he waited for your next action. You then leaned forward and smirked when Grog closed his eyes. Finally, you pressed a soft kiss on the top of his nose.

"There. Your goodnight kiss."

But Grog kept sulking. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his nose scrunched and his superior lip raised in a scowl.

"I wanted it on the lips."

Your laugh boomed in the room as Grog's pout creased his facial traits. After a few minutes, you calmed down and patted his shoulder.

"Okay, big guy," you smiled and he couldn't help but smile too. "But only if you ask nicely."

"Pretty pretty please could I have a kiss on my pretty pretty lips ?"

You snorted as he presented his expectant lips to you and leaned forward with hopeful eyes.

"Alright. Come here."

If anyone saw him, that person would not believe that big guy you were kissing was the same who could break anyone's jaw.

Omen could be spooky. Master of shadows and teleportation, ambush expert and underestimated strategist. An air of authority and superiority radiated from each of his movements. He was a very estimated agent of the protocol, respected by all, and a very feared oppenent on the field.

Who would have thought that his room would be so cozy ?

"How the hell did you manage to have a fireplace in here ?"

"I have my ways," he answered casually.

He was calmly knitting, sat on a rocking chair but you also had his attention. His bed was carefully made but you doubted he ever used it. Some bonsai trees were put on some shelves as well as some books, and the room was only illuminated by the dim but warm light of the fire. You kept looking around and —was that Dizzy sleeping in the corner ?— noticed the book you recommended to him a few days ago on his bed table.

"Can I help you with something ?" he suddenly asked, exiting you from your daze.

You blinked, looked back at him then cleared your throat.

"Uhm...I came to give your knife back," you said as you handed him the weapon. "Thanks again. It was truly useful for yesterday's mission."

Dizzy raised her head slightly to take a look at you, then decided to changes spot to rest on the pillows of the bed instead.

You saw the three stripes of the wraith's face slightly dilating, as if he was observing you better. Unbeknownst to you, your presence had the odd ability to soothe him. Everytime you were around, Omen found himself feeling more stable. You also amused him. He found the surprise in your eyes as you looked around adorable.

He nodded and invited you to sit down on the bed.

"You seem tired," he said calmly.

You avoided his gaze and started to fidget your fingers. You took a deep breath then slowly released it.

"I'm not tired."

"Exhausted then ?" he hummed as he momentarily stopped knitting.

He always observed you, silently watching over you. He started to worry when he saw you weakening. He felt you less lively than usual, more tired, too feeble and too hardworking.

"That's..." you sighed and looked down on your lap. "That's one way to put it."

"Don't overwork yourself," he said firmly "Rest."

His words felt like there were on the tight line between a request and an order. You sighed, feeling yourself weakening even more under the intensity of his gaze. You lied down on the bed —like you thought, the bed was barely used— and your eyelids started to feel heavier.

"I recommend you stop going on mission until you feel better," he murmured, his voice had a soothing effect that embrace your ears in a warm embrace.

Your already frail resolve shattered at his words. You felt Dizzy nuzzling against you as sleep slowly took you away. He watched you fall asleep and resumed his knitting. Several hours passed and you still shared a quiet and cozy moment. Even though you were unconscious, you had never felt as relaxed as you did now. You internally thanked Omen.

And Omen internally thanked you. For finally taking care of yourself, and for your company.

Needless to say that you started spending a lot of time in his dorm. He helped you rest, and you helped him feeling more stable.

Welcome I would be really grateful if you could help me with a donation to save my child and family from the dangers of war and death in Gaza and escape to a safe place. Please donate and reblog for my family 🙏

https://gofund.me/74e87f75

‏Hello

‏I hope my message finds you well

‏I would really appreciate it if you could help me by donating to save me and my family from the dangers of war and death in Gaza and escape to a safe place

‏Please share, repost or donate to my family 🙏

https://gofund.me/12546554

https://www.gofundme.com/f/uruygz-help-me-get-food?utm_source=copy_link&utm_medium=customer&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_ft