#soft (tm)

A Witcher Flash Fic entry! Woot!

Witcher (Obvs)

Aiden/Lambert

Rated T

1197 words

Summary: Lambert and Aiden find themselves a hidden little place to rest and recover and just exist without the pressures of monsters, hateful people or of simply being Witchers, and maybe, perhaps, they take a moment for themselves.

The Flash Fic picture that inspired this:

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Tobirama was, in general, something of a messy sleeper.  She snored, she drooled, she made faces.  Madara found it hilarious and weirdly charming. That came from loving someone, she supposed. Love was waking up at five in the morning because your wife was snoring in your ear and drooling on your hair and just… living with it.  

Maybe, on occasion, poking said wife awake just to see her scowl (read: pout), but at least then Madara could get Tobirama into a position where she snored less.  

Being married to Tobirama was often vexing, often wonderful, and often baffling and Madara wouldn't trade it for the world.

Not even moments like these:  Tobirama with her face mashed into Madara's breasts, her breathing labored and thick and not the least bit arousing.  Every snuffle and snore sounded gummy, and Tobirama was definitely drooling all over her shirt.

They were surrounded by a plethora of handkerchiefs, tea cups, and soup bowls.

Madara had had to spend the first several hours of her day at work, listening to Hashirama whine about his little sister's health.

Using Hashirama's obvious weakness to take her work home early so she could 'look after Tobirama' wasn't even an entire lie.

Yes, it was an excuse to get away from him but….

But Madara had gone home, dropped the work in her study and then joined Tobirama in the bedroom.

She tipped her head down, face buried in wild bedhead and plucked at a few tangled curls with her free hand.  Tobirama's breathing was raspy between clogged snorts, and she was overwarm, but she was sleeping.

Madara knew from first hand experience that Tobirama had spent most of the night tossing and turning in her discomfort.  She had also been awake when Madara got home, eyes hazy and groggy when she looked up at Madara's approach.

But that was fine.  Madara could lay here for as long as needed, pay no mind to her leg falling asleep, and keep stroking her hand through thick, silver-white hair.

Bc goddamn they be cute af

Mark and Ethan holding hands, a thread: