It starts subtle. Too subtle, honestly, for your own good.
Heâs sitting a little too close, arms around your waist (not unusual) but his thumb is busy tracing slow, absentminded circles against your side.
Now that is unusual.
âC/nâ you murmur under your breath
âMmhmmâ
âThat ticklesâ
âI knowâ
You blink
âYou know?â
He hums, leaning in just slightly, letting his lips brush your temple in a way that lingers a second longer than necessary.
Oh. Heâs in that mood.
You try to keep your composure but the way his hand tightens just a little at your waist to pull you closer - like heâs claiming space that was already his - yup. Youâre not surviving this.
âWeâre not alone dummyâ you whisper
âAnd?â he raises a brow and that doesnât help at all. If anything, he just seems more amused, the corner of his lips twitching as his hand slides just slightly higher along your side- still appropriate, still technically innocent but not really.
âC/nâ you warn softly
âRelaxâ
âI am relaxedâ
âRight and Iâm gay, you donât look relaxedâ
You huff, trying to shift away just a little - he follows. Of course he does.
âStayâ he murmurs, low enough that it sends a small shiver down your spine
You look at him in the eyes about to say something when the door suddenly swings open.
No knock.
No warning.
Of course youâve known.
âHEY GUYSââ
Silence. Immediate. Defeaning.
The two of you freeze. There they are, your friends standing in the doorway. All staring. All processing.
âOh my Godââ one gasps, covering their eyes âMY VIRGIN EYESââ
âWHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOINGââ one chokes
One points, absolutely scandalized âC/N YOU ANIMAL, GET OFF HER RIGHT NOWââ
âIââ you start, mortified and you try to move away
He does not move. At all.
âRelaxâ he says, completely unbothered
âRELAX?!â one of your friends repeat âYOUâRE ALL OVER HERââ
âIâm sittingâ
âYOU are NOT JUST SITTINGââ
One is already laughing âI leave the two of you alone for five minutes and this ââ
Another one gasps dramatically âIâm telling your mom, c/nâ
At that he raises a brow âWhy?â
âSo she knows she might be having a grandbaby soonâ
You choke. The room erupts. You hide your face on his shoulder, absolutely done âyou guysââ
âLock the door next time!â
âOr at least give us a warning!â
One shakes his head still pointing âI did not know he had it in himââ
âYouâre all overreactingâ he mutters
âOverreacting?!â one echoes
âYou look like you were about toââ they gesture vaguely, unable to even finish.
âFinish that sentenceâ he challenges
âNo, I value my lifeâ
You peek right through your fingers, heâs still there. Still close. Still holding you like none of this phased him at all.
âYouâre unbelievableâ you admonish
âMhmmâ
âSay something!â
âI didâ
âNot to me - to them!â
He glances back at your group of friends, all still losing their minds and then back at you.
âDo you want me to stop?â
Your brain short-circuits
âThatâs not what Iââ
âThen relaxâ
You stare at him. Your friends all groan in the background.
âTHIS MANââ âHe doesnât give a fuck guysâ âIâm leaving!â âWait no stay, this is entertainmentâ
But him? He just pulls you slightly closer again. Casual. Unbothered. Like this is normal.
âTheyâll get over itâ he murmurs and you huff a laugh despite yourself
âYouâre such a menaceâ
âYeah, but Iâm your menaceâ He doesnât let go. Not even when your friends are still yelling. Not even when youâre hiding your face in his shoulder.
If anything, he holds you a little closer just because he can.
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The book you were reading smelled like old paper and the faintest hint of hospital disinfectant, which wasnât that surprising since youâd borrowed it from the break room shelf. It was one of those dense medical journals that no one ever dared touch, the kind with paragraphs that curled into footnotes and footnotes that spiraled into even more questions.
You turned a page carefully, fingers brushing against the edge as if afraid the pages might crumble to dust once handled improperly. At that moment, your husband shifted his head against your stomach, exhaling loudly through his nose.
Heâd been quiet for exactly twelve minutes, an impressive feat for him. His hair still slightly damp from the shower and it left a faint cool spot against your skin through the fabric of his shirt you wore.
âTwelve minutesâ you say without looking down, thumb tracing the edge of the next page âthatâs a new record for youâ and he groans, tilting his head back to glare at your upside-down face.
âTwelve minutes of my life, wastedâ he laments reaching up to poke you in the rib âyou promised me no medical texts today, that thing youâre holding is probably so ancient it practically counts as a biohazardâ he snorts and you laugh, snapping the journal shut with one hand and the other to tug playfully at his hair.
âFine. But only because youâre being such a baby about itâ you put it down, the journal landing with a soft hump somewhere near the foot of the bed, forgotten. He grins, victorious and rolled over into his side of the bed slinging an arm over your waist before you could protest.
You laugh, twisting halfway out of his grasp - just enough to make him work for it. He hooks a leg over yours, pinning you gently against the mattress.
âYouâre worse than the internsâ you mutter but the little breathless laugh that came with it softens the blow, his face buried against your neck. And somehow, in the tangle of limbs and quiet laughter, you end up with your back pressed against his chest. Arms locked around you like he was afraid youâd vanish the moment heâd loosen his grip a little.
You sigh, relaxing into him and for the first time all day, neither of you were thinking about charts or shifts or the relentless hum of hospital fluorescents.
âââââââ
His fingers traced idle patterns along your forearm, touch light enough to tease but firm enough to keep you from squirming away âyou knowâ he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder âif weâre going to commit to this whole day off thing, we should at least do something excitingâ his breath warming your skin and you donât have to turn your head to see him to know heâs grinning at you.
âExcitingâ you reply dryly though the corner of your mouth twitched âlike what? running codes in our sleep? because I dream about intubations and itâs thrillingâ
He snorts, tightening his arms around you just enough to make you gasp.
âYouâre such a menaceâ he mutters with a laugh, the vibration rumbling through your back where you were pressed to him.
âNo, I was thinking more like lunch. Maybe that place with the terrible nachos that you pretend to hate but secretly crave at 3 in the morning after a double shiftâ
His response makes you still for a fraction of a second, but just long enough for him to notice âyou remember that?â you ask, quiet
âOf course I doâ he says like it was obvious. Like he hadnât just unraveled her with his words. Like he didnât keep a running tally of every offhanded remark, every midnight craving, every time she sighed over a lukewarm coffee in the break room and wished for something sweeter.
Your breath caught and you turn in his arms so you could see his face - like really see it, the way his lashes casted faint shadows under his eyes, the way his mouth softened when he wasnât trying to be clever.
âYouâre ridiculousâ you say, voice wavering and his grin widens like heâd just won something.
âRidiculousâ he agrees, nose brushing against yours âbut you love meâ
You donât dignify him with a verbal answer, instead you push closer to kiss him, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that made his hands tighten on your hips like he was afraid youâd pull away. When you do, it was only to murmur against his lips âthose nachos are terribleâ
He laughed then. The sound low and warm against your mouth âliarâ he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were sprawled across his chest, hair a dark curtain around the two of you âyou drown them in that neon-green salsa and eat them like youâre starvingâ
You prop yourself up on your elbows feigning offense âexcuse me? I have standardsâ
He traced the ridge of your collarbone with his thumb, expression shifting into something dangerously smug.
âStandardsâ he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke âright, like the time you ate an entire sleeve of saltines in the on-call room because -what was it?- they tasted like nostalgia?â
You pinch his side but he barely flinched, too busy grinning up at the ceiling like heâd already won âyouâre never letting that go, are you?â you mutter though the heat in your words were undercut by the way your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
âNot a chanceâ he says and then his hands were on your face, framing them, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks âIâm keeping all of it. The saltines, The way you hum under your breath when youâre concentrating. The face you make when someone mentions grape jelly.â he paused, tilting his head.
âEspecially the last one, thatâs artâ
You open your mouth to protest but he presses his mouth to yours then, quick and teasing, the kind that left you chasing after his lips when he pulled away
âYouâ you try to aim for stern but land somewhere breathless instead âare insufferableâ
âAnd yetâ he says, rolling over until you were beneath him, laughter muffled against his shoulder âhere you areâ
He pressed his lips to your forehead once, twice, three times - light, quick, insistent- like raindrops tapping against a windowpane. You wrinkle your nose, swatting halfheartedly at his shoulder but the way your fingers lingered against his skin betrays you.
âYouâre acting like a puppyâ you admonish him though the warmth in your voice softened the insult
He grins then, unrepentant and shifts lower to dust kisses along the bridge of your nose, cheeks, the corner of your mouth, everywhere but not where you wanted it most. You huff, tilting you face away but he caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you still.
âSay itâ he murmurs, breath mingling with yours
âSay whatâ you ask, trying to look clueless but your lips twitch and he knew he had you
âThat you love it when I do thisâ he punctuated the words with another kiss, this time to the hollow beneath your ear - the spot that always made you shiver. You inhale sharply, fingers tightening in his hair but not pushing him away.
âFineâ you relent, voice barely above a whisper âI love it, happy?â
He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating in a way that made your toes curl
âEcstaticâ he murmured, not pulling away, lips still tracing the line of your jaw. Your body arching towards his, breath hitching when his teeth grazes the sensitive spot below your ear.
The sunlight streaming through the blinds painted stripes across the rumpled sheets, catching the dust motes that swirled lazily in the air between the two of you. You close your eyes, memorizing the weight of him, the way his heartbeat thudded against your ribs- steady, familiar, and yours.
âYouâre distracting meâ you accuse, though the effect was ruined by the way your fingers carded through his hair, urging him closer.
He laughed, the sound muffled against your throat âthatâs the point my dearest wifeâ he nipped at your collarbone, then soothed the sting with his tongue.
âDay off remember? No pager, no charts, just- â his hands slide beneath the hem of his stolen shirt you wore, warm against the dip of your waist âthisâ
You gasp when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, back arching off the mattress âcheaterâ you breath, but he only grinned, wicked and unrepentant as he tugged the shirt over your head in one smooth motion.
The shirt lands somewhere near the forgotten medical journal and you barely had the time to register the cool, air against your skin before his mouth was on you - hungry this time, less teasing and more claiming. You could taste the coffee heâd drunk hours ago, the faintest hint of mint from his toothpaste, and something that was perfectly him.
Warm. Familiar. Perfect.
Your hands slid down his back, nails scraping lightly over the ridges of his spine, and you felt him shudder against you.
âYouâre impossibleâ you gasp when he finally lets you come up for air, but the words lacked any real bite to it. He just smirked, trailing his lips down your throat, over the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking against the nipple of one breast in a way that made your hips jerk involuntarily.
âAnd yetâ he murmured against your skin, voice rougher with want âyouâre still hereâ his hands sliding lower, fingers skimming the waistband of your pajama shorts and your breath hitched.
You shouldâve known heâd remember those too- the way you melted when he touched you just there, the way youâd arch into his hand like a cat seeking sunlight. He chuckled, low and knowing as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric and your thoughts scattered like leaves in a gust of wind.
The world narrowed to the press of his body against yours, the calloused drag of his fingers, the way he whispered your name like a prayer against your skin. You clutch at his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh and he groans, hips grinding against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm.
Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as his fingers traced lazy circles against your skin - each touch deliberate, designed to unravel you even further. You arch into him, body moving on instinct chasing the heat of his palm.
âYouâre -â you start but the words dissolved into a moan when his thumb brushed just there and suddenly coherent thought was a luxury you couldnât afford right now.
He grinned against your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly over the pulse point he knew drove you wild âIâm what?â he teased, voice rougher with amusement and something darker, hotter.
His free hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back until you were forced to meet his gaze âUse your words, princessâ
You glared - at least tried to- the effect ruined by the way your lips parted on another gasp âsmugâ you manage, voice trembling âinsufferableâ
He laughed, low and wicked and ducked his head to capture your mouth again, swallowing your protests before they could be verbalized. This kiss felt different, less playful more possessive.
His tongue swept against yours, insistent, demanding and you surrender to him with a whimper, fingers tightening in his hair.
When he finally pulled away, you were flushed and breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. He studies you for a moment, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable before shifting lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your sternum.
You shudder, hips lifting off the mattress when his lips close around a nipple, tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Your fingers twisted in his hair when his mouth worked its way lower, breath hot against your ribs.
âYou - ah- planned thisâ you accuse, voice fracturing when his teeth grazed the soft skin of your hipbone.
He paused just long enough to smirk up at her âmaybeâ he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your pajama shorts, dragging them down inch by torturous inch
âOr maybe I just know you better than you know yourselfâ
The shorts joined the shirt on the floor and you barely had time to feel self-conscious before his hands were spreading your thighs, thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of your knees.
You sucked in a sharp breath, pulse thundering in your ears âC/n-â
His name came out as a plea but he didnât rush, gaze raking over you like he was committing every detail to memory. When he finally lowered his head, breath ghosting over you, you nearly sobbed.
Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth closed over you, tongue stroking in slow, deliberate passes that sent sparks skittering up your spine. You arched off the mattress with a choked cry, thighs trembling against his shoulders.
He hummed against you, the vibration rippling through you in waves, and your hips jerked up to his mouth.
âGod - C/n-â his name fractures into a moan as he curled his fingers inside you, his palm pressing just there and suddenly the world narrowed down to the slick heat of his mouth and the dizzying pressure building low in your belly.
You came with a shuddering gasp, back bowing off the sheets but he didnât let up, continuously working you through it with a patience you were sure of bordered on cruel. By the time he finally pulled away, you were a trembling mess, limbs loose and heavy.
He crawled up your body, lips glistening, grin smug as he paused to kiss the rapid flutter of your pulse
âStill bored?â he murmured against your throat and you swat weakly at his shoulder
âJerkâ your voice lacked any real venom and he chuckled, nuzzling into the curve of your neck
You could feel him - hard and insistent- against your thigh but he made no move to rush, fingers tracing idle patterns across your rib cage.
You hook a leg over his hip, dragging him closer and he groans forehead dropping to rest on yours.
âImpatientâ he chided but his hips rocked against yours anyway, the friction drawing a gasp from the both of you. You insistently tug on the drawstrings of his sweatpants and he makes no move to stop you, your hands slipping in to wrap around him.
His breath hitched, lashes fluttering âFuckâ
His groan dissolved into a shaky exhale as your fingers experimentally squeezed around him, thumb swiping over the head in a way that made his hips jerk into your hand.
âYouâre-â he broke off with a strangled laugh when you stroked him again, slower this time, nails grazing the sensitive skin enough to make him shudder.
âTrying to kill meâ he finished, voice rough.
A smirk graces your lips, breath still uneven from earlier âpaybackâ you murmur, leaning up to nip at his lower lip.
He growled, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all heat and no finesse, his hand sliding down to grip your hips as he rolled the two of you over. Sheets tangling between your legs, the afternoon sun casting gold across the sweat-slicked planes of his back as he settled between your thighs.
He doesnât rush, just presses his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours as he nudged against you, slow and teasing âtell meâ he murmurs, hie voice barely above a whisper.
You arch an eyebrow, fingers tracing the tense muscles of his shoulders âtell you what?â
His smirk was infuriatingly knowing as he hovered above you, hips rocking just enough to drag a whimper from your throat.
âThat you want meâ he breathed, the words hot against your lips, his hands sliding beneath you, fingers digging into the swell of your ass to pulls you flush against him - close enough for you to feel ever ragged inhale, every tremor running through his body.
Your nails raked down his back, hips lifting in silent demand âobviouslyâ you grit out, but the effect was ruined when he chose that moment to press inside, inch by torturous inch, until you were gasping, legs locked around his waist.
He groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stilled, breath coming in short and uneven bursts. He was everywhere - the weight of him, the heat, the way his pulse hammered against your skin. It was too much and yet still not enough, and as you decide to shift experimentally he curses under his breath, his hips jerking involuntarily
âFuck - y/nâ his voice a wreck already, raw with want and the sound of it send a thrill through your body
âMoveâ you demand, nipping at his earlobe and he obeyed with a groan, thrusts slow at first, then deeper and harder until the bedframe creaked in protest and your moans muffled against his shoulder.
Lucky for you he knew you, knew the angle that made your toes curl, the rhythm that had you clawing at his back - and he used it mercilessly, his mouth finding yours in a kiss.
Your orgasm hits you like a delayed reaction - first a tightening coil in your belly and then a sudden, shuddering release that tore through you with a violence that left you gasping. He follows moments later, body going rigid above you, his groan muffled against the sweat-damp curve of her neck as he spilled warmth in you. He finally lets his body relax, sagging against yours carefully to make sure heâs not suffocating you.
For a long while neither of you spoke, too content in the silence and shared exertion. He traced idle patterns along your rib cage, fingertips skimming the dip of your waist. The afternoon light had shifted, painting the walls in amber streaks and somewhere outside, a car door slammed.
You exhaled, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thud - lub, dub- of his heartbeat beneath your ear until he breaks the silence.
âSoâ he drawled eventually, voice still rough âabout those nachosâ
You snort, swatting his stomach halfheartedly âyou are insatiableâ
You trace the scar on his shoulder - a thin, pale line from na OR mishap years ago- fingertips mapping the familiar ridge like you were memorizing it anew.
âYou knowâ you murmur, voice still husky âwe couldâve just gone for the nachos instead ofâŚâ you gesture vaguely at the wreckage of your shared bed, the sheets twisted around their ankles, his shirt still crumpled near the footboard.
He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles âand whereâs the fun in that?â he grins lazily, sated, the kind that made your chest ache âbesides, youâve complained the whole time about how theyâre objectively terrible while inhaling them like a feral raccoon.â
You pinch his side in retaliation but he only laughed, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until your head rested comfortably on his chest. The afternoon had deepens into golden hour, the light bleeding through the blinds in hazy striped across his skin. You exhale, fingers splaying over his sternum, keeping count of the steady strong beats of his heartbeat beneath.
His hands drift to your hair, combing through the tangled strands with a patient that never failed to surprise you after all these years of marriage âyouâre quietâ he says after a moment, thumb brushing the shell of your ear.
You press your lips to the warm skin over his heart, lingering just long enough to feel the quickened pulse beneath âjust thinkingâ you murmur
âAbout how you still smell like antiseptic even after two showersâ and that earns you a scoff and a flick to your earlobe âpot meet kettle, your hair reeks of OR sterilizerâ
You gasp in mock disbelief âliarâ you tug on a lock of his hair, fingers lingering, twisting the damp strand absently. The silence settled again, thick with the weight of unspoken things - the kind that gathered in quiet corners of your shared shifts, the glances across gurneys, the way his hands would always find yours in the chaos of cold blue, and suddenly you find yourself feeling so sentimental that the next words you say come out naturally.
âI love youâ you murmur quietly, not a fan of saying that out loud but showing through your actions
âWhat was that? I didnât quite hear youâ he teases and even without looking up you can already see the stupid infuriating triumphant grin on his face, making you say those words was always his favorite challenge after all.
âYou heard meâ you whine and he chuckles, hand lifting your chin to meet his gaze
âProperlyâ he says with an encouraging smile and although you avoid his eyes at first, you sigh and resign yourself to look into his eyes
âI love youâ you tell him and the grin that takes up his face is a million times better that it makes your heart stutter
âI love you tooâ he says the words so reverently that it makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over and judging by the way heâs grin has him showing his teeth -like a toothy toddler showing his parents his achievements - you know youâre flushed all over.
âI mean itâ he tells you and you can only nod, not trusting your voice and he chuckles, letting you off the hook for now, his hand guiding your head to rest comfortably against his chest.
The last thing you register before falling asleep is him lifting the covers over the both of you, arms tightening around you to keep you from moving away from him and a gentle kiss on your forehead.
The lights are off, the room dim except for the soft glow slipping in from the curtains. Youâre already under the blankets when he finally walks in, hair slightly damp from a quick shower, sleep shirt half-buttoned like he gave up midway.
âYouâre lateâ you mumble, voice thick with sleep
âYeah, yeahâ he mutters back but thereâs no bite to it.
He slides into bed beside you, cold at first -always cold- and you instinctively shift closer. âColdâ you complain pressing your body against his side
âCome closer thenâ he says with a chuckle and you tuck yourself into him, head resting against his chest and one leg thrown lazily over his. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you in until thereâs barely any space left between the two of you. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Just warmth.
His hands start moving, slow absentminded strokes up and down your arm, then to your back like he doesnât even realize heâs doing it.
âYou okay?â you murmur
âMhmmâ he hums âBetter nowâ and you smile faintly against him. Fingers curling into his sleep shirt holding on tightly just as he is.
âDonât leave early tomorrowâ you mumble
âWonâtâ he replies instantly and you tilt your head slightly, peeking up at him in the dark âPromise?â
He shifts, closer to press a kiss to your forehead âPromiseâ
And thatâs enough for you. He sighs and his breath evens, most likely asleep already. Your eyes start to close, breathing slowing down as sleep finally pulls you under - but just before you drift off completely, you feel his hold tighten a little more. Like even in sleep, heâs not letting you go. And you? You donât mind it, not one bit.
The door clicks open softer than usual and you donât even need to turn around to know that itâs him.
His bag slips from his hand with a quiet thud by the door and shoes half-kicked off barely lined up by the cubby - habits youâd usually call him out on but tonight youâll let it slide. He doesnât call out your name like he usually does, instead, warm arms wrap up around your waist from behind, his warm and familiar presence engulfing you like your favorite hot chocolate on a cold day.
He presses his forehead against your shoulder, breathing slow and tired against your neck. âHiâ he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges. The kind of boyish edge you used to tease him about. You smile softly, stirring the pot in front of you âHi baby, long day?â
He hums in response, the sound vibrating against your back, his grip tightening just a little like heâs anchoring himself to you.
âMhmm, donât want to talk about itâ he nuzzles his nose against your shoulder
âOkayâ you say easily, like itâs the simplest thing in the world - because it actually is.
You tilt your head slightly towards him âyou can just stay there.â and thatâs all the permission he needs. He melts into you, not dramatically - you know heâs not the type to - but you feel it in the way his weight settles, how his chin hooks over your shoulder and how his arms slide tighter around your waist like heâs afraid you might disappear if he loosens up.
You reach with a free hand behind you, threading your fingers into his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. The reaction is immediate - a soft exhale escapes him. There it is.
âYou smell goodâ he mumbles and you laugh âThatâs because Iâve been cooking for you, you menaceâ
âFor me?â he repeats, quietly, like the words mean more than he expected
You nod, even though he canât fully see the action âyeah, I figured youâd come home exhaustedâ
Thereâs a pause. And then his nose nudges lightly against your cheek, a quiet, almost shy kind of affection that doesnât match his usual confidence.
âMissed thisâ he admits and your heart does that soft, aching thing. You lower the heat on the stove and turn slightly in his arms, not enough to break his hold but just enough to glance at him. His eyes look heavy, lids half-lowered but they soften the moment they meet yours.
âCâmereâ you whisper and you wipe your hands quickly on the kitchen towel, before turning fully this time with your arms wrapping around his neck. He doesnât hesitate, never. He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder like heâs been waiting all day for this exact moment. His grip is tighter now, more desperate in a quiet way, fingers pressing into your back holding you close.
You sway slightly where you stand, slow and gentle. âIâve got youâ you murmur, rubbing small circles against his back and he lets out another breath, deeper this time.
âStay like this for a bitâ he says and you smile against his hair âFunny how you think Iâm ever going anywhere when youâre being this clingyâ
The kitchen fills with the soft sound of simmering, the faint clink of the spoon you forgot on the counter, and the quiet rhythm of his breathing slowly evening out. After a while, he shifts just enough to press a lazy kiss to your shoulder.
âThank youâ he whispers and you tilt your head, pressing a kiss to his temple in return âthis has payment by the way, Iâm billing you for thisâ you laugh and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest âyeah yeah, go use my cardâ
âNo but all jokes aside, thank me for what?â
âFor this, for you, for letting me be like thisâ he murmurs and your chest feels warm and fuzzy. You pull back just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing under his eye âdummy, you donât have to ask for thatâ
He looks at you for a second, really looks at you, like heâs memorizing the softness of this moment. Then he leans in, pressing a quiet kiss to your lips. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just warm, grateful, and home.
âFoodâs going to burnâ he mutters against your mouth and you laugh softly âokay, letâs save the foodâ you say and as you turn heâs not budging an inch. Still right there behind you, still holding on. This time, you lean back into him first. A silent, gentle reminder youâre still there.
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You were barely on your second step out of bed when a warm arm loops around your waist and drags you straight back down into the sheets youâve just freed yourself from.
You were kinda hoping he was a little too tired from his shift from work last night to notice youâve replaced yourself with a pillow. You shouldâve known better, with how heâs such a clingy man.
You sigh instead. âWhere dâyou think youâre going?â he mumbles, voice deep and gravelly from sleep. Breath fanning warmly over your shoulder.
Heâs definitely not wearing his glasses, his hair was an absolute disaster, but somehow in your eyes, he still looked so stupidly pretty in the morning light.
âI was going to go to the bathroomâ you laugh, trying to pry his arm off around your waist.
âNoâ that was it. One syllable. He says it like heâs banning you from ever thinking of going to the bathroom ever.
âBut I -â you try to reason but he grumbles, holding on to you tighter, body curling around you and legs tangling with yours.
âYou woke me up too early, see itâs 6amâ he grumbles, nuzzling into your neck like a cat claiming territory and you pray to the God above that heâs not going to say the next line youâre thinking of.
âand now you have to pay the priceâ ah well you tried
You snort âand what price is that?â and when the silence stretches, you thank whoever is listening to you right now in the Universe as you try to roll and pry out of his embrace.
You shriek as he rolls on top of you all of a sudden - lazy, heavy, still half asleep- pinning you to the mattress with his whole warm body and you feel a little dazed because who wouldnât?
His legs tangled with yours, knee slipping between your thighs like itâs as natural as breathing for him. Curse him for being this smooth in the morning. His weight admittedly was comforting, and alsoâŚ..very distracting.
You feel him smirk against the skin of your shoulder when you gasp.
âOhâ he murmured, still sounding like heâs seconds from falling back asleep âthere it is.â
âStop that. Stop pretending youâre half asleepâ you say, trying to sound firm and failing miserably because you know he can feel your heartbeat drumming loudly against his chest pressed against yours âyouâre doing this on purposeâ you try to tug at his hair to keep him away.
âI am half asleepâ he mutters, lips brushing lazily along your jaw âbut even if iâm unconscious, I know exactly how to ruin you.â
Your breath hitched and his smile widened.
He kisses you then, slow and warm at first, like he was easing himself awake with your mouth. You think itâs all innocent but then his hands slide under your shirt, fingers warm against your skin as they slowly climb up your torso. The kiss deepens, turning hungry and needy.
âYou really woke me up too earlyâ he whispers between kisses, voice dropping low.
âSo, now Iâm keeping you here, just here with me. Until Iâm satisfied.â
âAnd how long is that?â you breathed, he kisses your neck, dragging his mouth up to your ear.
âLongâ he murmurs âVery longâ
You let out a breathy laugh, already melting beneath him but another part of you still tries to push him back weakly.
âBut I really, really need to peeâ you reason and you see the moment he crumbles
Ha, take that!
He groans dramatically and drops his face into your shoulder âFine. But Iâm coming with you.â
âYou- you what?â
He lifts his head, sleep still softening his eyes but mischief colors it now.
âYou woke me up and so now, you donât get to leave my arms until I say so. Also, Iâve seen everything before havenât I?â and he wiggles his brows for good measure
You burst into laughter at that âYou cannot carry me to the bathroom ââ
And because he loves proving you wrong, he stands immediately as if heâs been up for a few hours and scoops you up, bridal-style. The blankets still wrapped around the both of you like a chaotic burrito.
âI can and I willâ he declares, walking with a low, sleepy determination âBathroom diplomacy is over.â
âPUT ME DOWNâ! â
âNo.â
And somehowâ somehowâ even while half asleep, clingy ridiculous, and even if you donât want to admit it, unbearably cute. He still manages to kiss you senseless in the doorway before letting you go all flustered.
The morning light spills gently through the curtains as your eyes flutter open, immediately waking to the soft scent of something sweet drifting from the kitchen.
You close your eyes again and you feel the pillow shift as a warm arm slips under yours.
âMorning sleepyheadâ he whispers, voice low and happy.
âSmells like breakfast, is it pancakes?â you mumble as you stretch, yawning
He laughs, soft and proud âYup. Pancake Monday - just for twoâ
You sit up slowly, hair messy and eyes half-lidded. He carefully slides out of bed and reaches behind the headboard, pulling out two matching fluffy bathrobes.
âYour attire, your Highnessâ he grins after bowing and you snort, sliding into the robe, walking barefoot into the kitchen where he already has flour dusting the counter.
Bowls out and ingredients lined up like heâs a chef participating in an episode of master chef.
He hands you the spatula âItâs your turn to flip.â
You eye him warily as you take the spatula from him
âI flip and you taste testâ he says, winking and you snort again at his behavior.
Heâs such a dork, but you love him for it.
You stand closer to the stove and flip the pancake, the scent of butter and warmth flooding the kitchen.
The two of you take turns pouring the batter, flipping the pancakes, and laughing when the batter drips, when eggs crack too quickly, and when the pancakes come out in wonky shapes - a far cry from a perfect circle.
He takes a piece from one and declares âNeeds more sugarâ and so you add more. âPerfectâ he kisses your cheek and you swat at him.
You leave him with the last pancake and decide to set the table: two plates, a bottle of syrup, butter, and a small bowl of strawberries. Maybe even a candle.
When he sees the table to set down the stack of pancakes, he lights the candle excitedly, like itâs your first official romantic breakfast together.
He pulls your chair out for you and you take a seat before he sits across from you. He reaches from over his side to hold your hand, âHappy post-study breakfastâ he tells you softly and you smile.
âThe happiestâ
The two of you eat slowly - pancake bites, butter, syrup, strawberries - sweet, warm, and soft. His eyes never leave you as you eat, gaze adoring, fingers laced with yours under the table.
After you finish, he pulls you up to him âClean upâ and you raise your brow because you know heâs not done speaking yet and youâre right because he adds: âButâŚalso cuddles.â
You snort, eyes bright âMultitasking?â
He shrugs âIâm good at itâ
After cleaning up, the two of you find yourselves on the couch, robes trailing, with soft music in the background. A mug of warm cocoa in hand and the blankets over the both of you.
He presses his cheek to your temple âyou knowâ he whispers, voice warm and lazy. âIâd pick pancakes and cuddles with you over studying any day.â
You laugh softly, turning and moving your head up slightly so your nose touches his cheek âEven before exams?â
âEspecially before examsâ he murmurs, one hand moving to stroke your hair âBecause I need my secret weapon.â
You grin, kissing him softly on the cheek âWell if you say it like that, then Iâll stay your secret weaponâ you whisper
He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes, crinkling a little and his gaze bright at you âBest decision youâve ever made.â
And as the day unfolds lazily - cocoa mugs reheated, soft kisses, quiet laughter, skin warm against skin - you realize:
This is home. This is love. This is everything you didnât know you needed.
The rain started sometime in the afternoon, soft at first, then steady, drumming against the roof like a heartbeat. The world outside turned silver and still, all sounds softened under the rhythm of the downpour.
You were curled up on the couch, a blanket around your shoulders, your laptop open but forgotten. He sits beside you, legs folded, glasses fogged a little from the steam of his coffee. Every now and then, heâd glance towards the window, watching the rain like it was something heâd been waiting for.
âItâs coldâ you murmur, tugging the blankets tighter around yourself.
He looks at you - hesitant- before holding out his hand for you to take. âCome hereâ he says quietly, almost shy, like the words embarrassed him.
You donât think twice, sliding closer and he lifts an arm so you could fit right against him. His blue sweater was soft, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a while, neither of you said anything.
You just listened to the rain, to the quiet between breaths, and paid attention to the way his thumb absently traced the side of your arm.
âYou always do thatâ you say, voice muffled against his chest
âDo what?â
âTouch me like youâre not sure if youâre allowed toâ
He freezes for a second, then let out a small, nervous laugh. âMaybe Iâm still getting used to the fact that I canâ
You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes are soft behind his glasses, full of something youâd felt for a long time but never quite named.
You smile, small and sure. âYou canâ
The rain filled in the silence that followed. And then, with a hesitance that slowly melted into certainty, he leaned in - slow enough for you to see it coming. Slow enough that you could feel your heart stumble before his lips finally met yours.
It wasnât perfect. It wasnât practiced. It was soft, a little clumsy, but real - the kind that felt like a promise whispered between raindrops.
When you pulled away, the both of you laughed quietly, breaths mingling. His cheeks were pink, glasses slightly askew and you fixed them for him with gently fingers.
âWorth the wait?â you tease and he nods, a shy grin tugging at his lips as he pulls you closer
âDefinitelyâ
You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, savoring his warmth.
âGood. Because I think Iâd wait for you a hundred times over.â
Outside, the rain kept falling- a steady, endless lullaby against the windows. Inside, wrapped in each otherâs arms, you realized something simple and certain:
Home wasnât just a place. It was this, his warmth, his quiet laughter, and the way your hearts fit perfectly in the space between the rain.
The sun peeked through the curtains, casting golden stripes across the living room floor. The air was still, save for the faint hum of the electric fan and the sound of a spoon gently stirring coffee.
He stood in the kitchen, hair a little messy, glasses slightly crooked on his nose. He moved quietly, almost like he was afraid of disturbing the calm. You watch from the couch, wrapped in a blanket, pretending to scroll through your phone, but really youâre just watching him.
He notices, of course he does. He always did, even without you having to say anything and it makes you feel loved even more.
âYou want sugar?â he asks softly, voice barely above a whisper - the kind that makes you feel like the world had suddenly slowed down just for you two to savor this moment.
You shake your head no âJust you making it is sweet enoughâ and you grin at him cheekily
The response you expected from him makes you giggle, his ears turn pink and he ducks his head, lifting the mug to his lips. Trying his hardest to hide his smile, but you see it anyway - the shy, awkward, crooked little smile that somehow always made your chest tighten.
He comes over and hands you your cup of coffee, his fingers brushing against yours. Warm and careful. He sits beside you, not too close, but close enough that your sides touched under the blanket, both of you keeping the contact as it is.
You lean your head on his shoulder, letting yourself feel the steady rise and fall of them as he breathes. He stiffens for half a second before relaxing, the way someone does when they realize they are exactly where they want to be.
âThanksâ you murmur
âFor what?â he asks quietly
âFor being hereâ
He turns his head slightly, voice low and almost shy to look at you âWell, thereâs nowhere else I would rather be than here with you.â
The two of you sit there, no grand declarations, no dramatic confessions. Just warmth, the clink of ceramic mugs, and the unspoken comfort of two hearts quietly finding a home in each other.
Outside, the day began to hum with life. Inside, everything felt perfectly still. Perfectly right.
The soft glow of blue light bathed the hallway, casting ripples across your faces as schools of colorful fishes swam past the glass. The air was cool and quiet- the kind of hush that made every word sound like a secret.
You walked side by side, hands brushing every so often. Each time, heâd glance down shyly and his fingers twitched at his side, like he wanted to hold your hand but he couldnât quite bring himself to do yet.
The two of you stopped in front of a jellyfish tank, staring silently at the translucent shapes floating gently and glowing faintly in the dark water.
âThey look unrealâ you whisper and he nods, reflection shimmering in the glass.
âThey look peacefulâ he murmured âLike they donât care whoâs watching. They just existâ
You smile, turning towards him âThatâs just how you are tooâ and his head whips toward you, cheeks pinking under the soft blue light
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou donât try to impress anyone. Youâre just you, and thatâs enoughâ
He blinks, stunned quiet for a heartbeat until a smile -small and genuine- graces his face
âYou notice the weirdest thingsâ he says softly, but you could tell from the way his eyes lingered on you that he didnât quite mind
The two of you continue to wander around the aquarium, laughing quietly at the penguins, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the giant ocean tank where the orcaâs were swimming. Somewhere between the coral reefs and the manta rays, he finally reached out- tentative but sure- and laced his fingers through yours.
It wasnât a big moment, no sweeping music or flash of realization, just warmth. His thumb brushing against yours, your reflection side by side in the glass and the soft hum of the ocean above.
When you looked up at him, the lights of the aquarium painted his face in shifting shades of blue and gold- and for a moment, it felt as if time had slowed down again, just for the two of you.
âSee?â you say quietly âYou fit right in with the peaceful ones.â
He chuckles, the sound low and fond.
âGuess I do, but only as long as youâre here tooâ
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Hi! Iâve been an avid tumblr fanfic reader enjoyer so I decided during this break to contribute to the reader x crush community and add to more content, i hope yaâll enjoy what iâve come up with :>
