(Yo I have to take a MASSIVE dump bro this is not finished)

It started off gently, when you and Mortefi first met. He admired your work, your efficiency, and your skills. Though he was quite good at articulating his thoughts and opinions, he never knew how to truly compliment you, so he began to create. He was always used to venting his emotions by crafting, by researching and writing results down until he was no longer Resonator but instead part of the words in his notebook. He found it easy to make simple things for you, it was second nature after a while. He’s mentally jot down things you enjoyed, or things you needed, and spent his free time working on them.

Mortefi presented you with many things, one of his crafted sweets, occasional trinkets he knew you’d like, your very own handheld blade—perfectly fitting within your hand. He should’ve known he was courting after his fourth or fifth nightless sleep to please you, bur the red dragon would never admit that it was more than a friend assisting a friend. He had bigger things to worry about—more important things to deal with than his feelings.

Until, you tried to return the favor. You attempted to make him some sort of stress ball—something besides his lighter to take the edge off. He almost immediately popped it, and while you laughed, he felt something within him snap. It wasn’t rage, it was despair.

You weren’t going to remake it, and Mortefi knew this, so he showed up to your corner of the lab to apologize. He didn’t bring flowers, he knew better—he would merely burn them up on accident, nor did he bring another artificial candy. He brought you a ring he’d thrifted, unaware of just what it might look like.

Obviously, you commented on the fact he was essentially proposing..who wouldn’t?

That was a terrible decision.

Mortefi’s face flushed a burning hot red, the scales revealed beyond his lab coat seeming to glow with sudden implication. His eyes widened, pupils narrowed to slits as he glared at you, yet, when he spoke, it was nothing close to anger.

“ Mm , marriage? What if I am asking for that? "

He questioned, casually. His voice did not waver yet. It held strong, until he caught your expression. Then? Then it folded into a sheepish voice crack.

“ Apologies—it-..it was a gift. To apologize, is all. "

Mortefi cleared his throat, mortified(haha) at the sudden realization he has been infact trying to court you this entire time. Though, considering you had all his silly trinkets along your desk and papers, the remain of your gift to him still sitting there—like it matters to you, it felt like a return of his courting. He felt confidence that you wanted him too, foolishly so.

Instead, he straightened his posture, forcing his voice to be stronger, more reserved, as it usually was.

“ I appreciated your attempts, though you know not of what you’ve done. "

Mortefi seemed to be teasing, as though excited to inform you of your commitment.