It starts subtle. Too subtle, honestly, for your own good.
He’s 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.
“C/n” you murmur under your breath
“Mmhmm”
“That tickles”
“I know”
You blink
“You know?”
He hums, leaning in just slightly, letting his lips brush your temple in a way that lingers a second longer than necessary.
Oh. He’s 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 he’s claiming space that was already his - yup. You’re not surviving this.
“We’re not alone dummy” you whisper
“And?” he raises a brow and that doesn’t 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.
“C/n” you warn softly
“Relax“
“I am relaxed”
“Right and I’m gay, you don’t look relaxed”
You huff, trying to shift away just a little - he follows. Of course he does.
“Stay” 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 you’ve known.
“HEY GUYS—“
Silence. Immediate. Defeaning.
The two of you freeze. There they are, your friends standing in the doorway. All staring. All processing.
“Oh my God—“ one gasps, covering their eyes “MY VIRGIN EYES—“
“WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING—“ one chokes
One points, absolutely scandalized “C/N YOU ANIMAL, GET OFF HER RIGHT NOW—“
“I—“ you start, mortified and you try to move away
He does not move. At all.
“Relax” he says, completely unbothered
“RELAX?!” one of your friends repeat “YOU’RE ALL OVER HER—“
“I’m sitting”
“YOU are NOT JUST SITTING—“
One is already laughing “I leave the two of you alone for five minutes and this —“
Another one gasps dramatically “I’m telling your mom, c/n”
At that he raises a brow “Why?”
“So she knows she might be having a grandbaby soon”
You choke. The room erupts. You hide your face on his shoulder, absolutely done “you guys—“
“Lock the door next time!”
“Or at least give us a warning!”
One shakes his head still pointing “I did not know he had it in him—“
“You’re all overreacting” he mutters
“Overreacting?!” one echoes
“You look like you were about to—“ they gesture vaguely, unable to even finish.
“Finish that sentence” he challenges
“No, I value my life”
You peek right through your fingers, he’s still there. Still close. Still holding you like none of this phased him at all.
“You’re unbelievable“ you admonish
“Mhmm”
“Say something!”
“I did”
“Not to me - to them!”
He glances back at your group of friends, all still losing their minds and then back at you.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Your brain short-circuits
“That’s not what I—“
“Then relax”
You stare at him. Your friends all groan in the background.
“THIS MAN—“ “He doesn’t give a fuck guys” “I’m leaving!” “Wait no stay, this is entertainment”
But him? He just pulls you slightly closer again. Casual. Unbothered. Like this is normal.
“They’ll get over it” he murmurs and you huff a laugh despite yourself
“You’re such a menace”
“Yeah, but I’m your menace” He doesn’t let go. Not even when your friends are still yelling. Not even when you’re hiding your face in his shoulder.
If anything, he holds you a little closer just because he can.
The book you were reading smelled like old paper and the faintest hint of hospital disinfectant, which wasn’t that surprising since you’d 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.
He’d 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.
“Twelve minutes” you say without looking down, thumb tracing the edge of the next page “that’s a new record for you” and he groans, tilting his head back to glare at your upside-down face.
“Twelve minutes of my life, wasted” he laments reaching up to poke you in the rib “you promised me no medical texts today, that thing you’re holding is probably so ancient it practically counts as a biohazard” he snorts and you laugh, snapping the journal shut with one hand and the other to tug playfully at his hair.
“Fine. But only because you’re being such a baby about it” 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.
“You’re worse than the interns” 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 you’d vanish the moment he’d 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.
———————
His fingers traced idle patterns along your forearm, touch light enough to tease but firm enough to keep you from squirming away “you know” he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder “if we’re going to commit to this whole day off thing, we should at least do something exciting” his breath warming your skin and you don’t have to turn your head to see him to know he’s grinning at you.
“Exciting” you reply dryly though the corner of your mouth twitched “like what? running codes in our sleep? because I dream about intubations and it’s thrilling”
He snorts, tightening his arms around you just enough to make you gasp.
“You’re such a menace” he mutters with a laugh, the vibration rumbling through your back where you were pressed to him.
“No, 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 shift”
His response makes you still for a fraction of a second, but just long enough for him to notice “you remember that?” you ask, quiet
“Of course I do” he says like it was obvious. Like he hadn’t just unraveled her with his words. Like he didn’t 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 wasn’t trying to be clever.
“You’re ridiculous” you say, voice wavering and his grin widens like he’d just won something.
“Ridiculous” he agrees, nose brushing against yours “but you love me”
You don’t 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 you’d pull away. When you do, it was only to murmur against his lips “those nachos are terrible”
He laughed then. The sound low and warm against your mouth “liar” 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 “you drown them in that neon-green salsa and eat them like you’re starving”
You prop yourself up on your elbows feigning offense “excuse me? I have standards”
He traced the ridge of your collarbone with his thumb, expression shifting into something dangerously smug.
“Standards” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke “right, like the time you ate an entire sleeve of saltines in the on-call room because -what was it?- they tasted like nostalgia?”
You pinch his side but he barely flinched, too busy grinning up at the ceiling like he’d already won “you’re never letting that go, are you?” you mutter though the heat in your words were undercut by the way your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
“Not a chance” he says and then his hands were on your face, framing them, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks “I’m keeping all of it. The saltines, The way you hum under your breath when you’re concentrating. The face you make when someone mentions grape jelly.” he paused, tilting his head.
“Especially the last one, that’s art”
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
“You” you try to aim for stern but land somewhere breathless instead “are insufferable”
“And yet” he says, rolling over until you were beneath him, laughter muffled against his shoulder “here you are”
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.
“You’re acting like a puppy” 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.
“Say it” he murmurs, breath mingling with yours
“Say what” you ask, trying to look clueless but your lips twitch and he knew he had you
“That you love it when I do this” 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.
“Fine” you relent, voice barely above a whisper “I love it, happy?”
He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating in a way that made your toes curl
“Ecstatic” 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.
“You’re distracting me” 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 “that’s the point my dearest wife” he nipped at your collarbone, then soothed the sting with his tongue.
“Day off remember? No pager, no charts, just- “ his hands slide beneath the hem of his stolen shirt you wore, warm against the dip of your waist “this”
You gasp when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, back arching off the mattress “cheater” 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 he’d 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.
“You’re impossible” 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.
“And yet” he murmured against your skin, voice rougher with want “you’re still here” his hands sliding lower, fingers skimming the waistband of your pajama shorts and your breath hitched.
You should’ve known he’d remember those too- the way you melted when he touched you just there, the way you’d 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.
“You’re -“ you start but the words dissolved into a moan when his thumb brushed just there and suddenly coherent thought was a luxury you couldn’t afford right now.
He grinned against your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly over the pulse point he knew drove you wild “I’m what?” 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 “Use your words, princess”
You glared - at least tried to- the effect ruined by the way your lips parted on another gasp “smug” you manage, voice trembling “insufferable”
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.
“You - ah- planned this” you accuse, voice fracturing when his teeth grazed the soft skin of your hipbone.
He paused just long enough to smirk up at her “maybe” he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your pajama shorts, dragging them down inch by torturous inch
“Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself”
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 “C/n-“
His name came out as a plea but he didn’t 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.
“God - C/n-“ 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 didn’t 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
“Still bored?” he murmured against your throat and you swat weakly at his shoulder
“Jerk” 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.
“Impatient” 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 “Fuck”
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.
“You’re-“ 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.
“Trying to kill me” he finished, voice rough.
A smirk graces your lips, breath still uneven from earlier “payback” 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 doesn’t rush, just presses his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours as he nudged against you, slow and teasing “tell me” he murmurs, hie voice barely above a whisper.
You arch an eyebrow, fingers tracing the tense muscles of his shoulders “tell you what?”
His smirk was infuriatingly knowing as he hovered above you, hips rocking just enough to drag a whimper from your throat.
“That you want me” 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 “obviously” 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
“Fuck - y/n” his voice a wreck already, raw with want and the sound of it send a thrill through your body
“Move” 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 he’s 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.
“So” he drawled eventually, voice still rough “about those nachos”
You snort, swatting his stomach halfheartedly “you are insatiable”
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.
“You know” you murmur, voice still husky “we could’ve just gone for the nachos instead of…” 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 “and where’s the fun in that?” he grins lazily, sated, the kind that made your chest ache “besides, you’ve complained the whole time about how they’re objectively terrible while inhaling them like a feral raccoon.”
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 “you’re quiet” 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 “just thinking” you murmur
“About how you still smell like antiseptic even after two showers” and that earns you a scoff and a flick to your earlobe “pot meet kettle, your hair reeks of OR sterilizer”
You gasp in mock disbelief “liar” 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.
“I love you” you murmur quietly, not a fan of saying that out loud but showing through your actions
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you” 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.
“You heard me” you whine and he chuckles, hand lifting your chin to meet his gaze
“Properly” he says with an encouraging smile and although you avoid his eyes at first, you sigh and resign yourself to look into his eyes
“I love you” you tell him and the grin that takes up his face is a million times better that it makes your heart stutter
“I love you too” he says the words so reverently that it makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over and judging by the way he’s grin has him showing his teeth -like a toothy toddler showing his parents his achievements - you know you’re flushed all over.
“I mean it” 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. You’re 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.
“You’re late” you mumble, voice thick with sleep
“Yeah, yeah” he mutters back but there’s no bite to it.
He slides into bed beside you, cold at first -always cold- and you instinctively shift closer. “Cold” you complain pressing your body against his side
“Come closer then” 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 there’s 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 doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
“You okay?” you murmur
“Mhmm” he hums “Better now” and you smile faintly against him. Fingers curling into his sleep shirt holding on tightly just as he is.
“Don’t leave early tomorrow” you mumble
“Won’t” he replies instantly and you tilt your head slightly, peeking up at him in the dark “Promise?”
He shifts, closer to press a kiss to your forehead “Promise”
And that’s 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, he’s not letting you go. And you? You don’t mind it, not one bit.
The door clicks open softer than usual and you don’t even need to turn around to know that it’s 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 you’d usually call him out on but tonight you’ll let it slide. He doesn’t 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. “Hi” 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 “Hi baby, long day?”
He hums in response, the sound vibrating against your back, his grip tightening just a little like he’s anchoring himself to you.
“Mhmm, don’t want to talk about it” he nuzzles his nose against your shoulder
“Okay” you say easily, like it’s the simplest thing in the world - because it actually is.
You tilt your head slightly towards him “you can just stay there.” and that’s all the permission he needs. He melts into you, not dramatically - you know he’s 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 he’s 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.
“You smell good” he mumbles and you laugh “That’s because I’ve been cooking for you, you menace”
“For me?” he repeats, quietly, like the words mean more than he expected
You nod, even though he can’t fully see the action “yeah, I figured you’d come home exhausted”
There’s a pause. And then his nose nudges lightly against your cheek, a quiet, almost shy kind of affection that doesn’t match his usual confidence.
“Missed this” 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.
“C’mere” 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 doesn’t hesitate, never. He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder like he’s 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. “I’ve got you” you murmur, rubbing small circles against his back and he lets out another breath, deeper this time.
“Stay like this for a bit” he says and you smile against his hair “Funny how you think I’m ever going anywhere when you’re being this clingy”
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.
“Thank you” he whispers and you tilt your head, pressing a kiss to his temple in return “this has payment by the way, I’m billing you for this” you laugh and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest “yeah yeah, go use my card”
“No but all jokes aside, thank me for what?”
“For this, for you, for letting me be like this” he murmurs and your chest feels warm and fuzzy. You pull back just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing under his eye “dummy, you don’t have to ask for that”
He looks at you for a second, really looks at you, like he’s 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.
“Food’s going to burn” he mutters against your mouth and you laugh softly “okay, let’s save the food” you say and as you turn he’s not budging an inch. Still right there behind you, still holding on. This time, you lean back into him first. A silent, gentle reminder you’re still there.
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 you’ve just freed yourself from.
You were kinda hoping he was a little too tired from his shift from work last night to notice you’ve replaced yourself with a pillow. You should’ve known better, with how he’s such a clingy man.
You sigh instead. “Where d’you think you’re going?” he mumbles, voice deep and gravelly from sleep. Breath fanning warmly over your shoulder.
He’s 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.
“I was going to go to the bathroom” you laugh, trying to pry his arm off around your waist.
“No” that was it. One syllable. He says it like he’s banning you from ever thinking of going to the bathroom ever.
“But I -“ you try to reason but he grumbles, holding on to you tighter, body curling around you and legs tangling with yours.
“You woke me up too early, see it’s 6am” he grumbles, nuzzling into your neck like a cat claiming territory and you pray to the God above that he’s not going to say the next line you’re thinking of.
“and now you have to pay the price” ah well you tried
You snort “and what price is that?” 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 wouldn’t?
His legs tangled with yours, knee slipping between your thighs like it’s as natural as breathing for him. Curse him for being this smooth in the morning. His weight admittedly was comforting, and also…..very distracting.
You feel him smirk against the skin of your shoulder when you gasp.
“Oh” he murmured, still sounding like he’s seconds from falling back asleep “there it is.”
“Stop that. Stop pretending you’re half asleep” 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 “you’re doing this on purpose” you try to tug at his hair to keep him away.
“I am half asleep” he mutters, lips brushing lazily along your jaw “but even if i’m unconscious, I know exactly how to ruin you.”
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 it’s 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.
“You really woke me up too early” he whispers between kisses, voice dropping low.
“So, now I’m keeping you here, just here with me. Until I’m satisfied.”
“And how long is that?” you breathed, he kisses your neck, dragging his mouth up to your ear.
“Long” he murmurs “Very long”
You let out a breathy laugh, already melting beneath him but another part of you still tries to push him back weakly.
“But I really, really need to pee” you reason and you see the moment he crumbles
Ha, take that!
He groans dramatically and drops his face into your shoulder “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”
“You- you what?”
He lifts his head, sleep still softening his eyes but mischief colors it now.
“You woke me up and so now, you don’t get to leave my arms until I say so. Also, I’ve seen everything before haven’t I?” and he wiggles his brows for good measure
You burst into laughter at that “You cannot carry me to the bathroom —“
And because he loves proving you wrong, he stands immediately as if he’s 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.
“I can and I will” he declares, walking with a low, sleepy determination “Bathroom diplomacy is over.”
“PUT ME DOWN—! “
“No.”
And somehow— somehow— even while half asleep, clingy ridiculous, and even if you don’t 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.
“Morning sleepyhead” he whispers, voice low and happy.
“Smells like breakfast, is it pancakes?” you mumble as you stretch, yawning
He laughs, soft and proud “Yup. Pancake Monday - just for two”
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.
“Your attire, your Highness” 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 he’s a chef participating in an episode of master chef.
He hands you the spatula “It’s your turn to flip.”
You eye him warily as you take the spatula from him
“I flip and you taste test” he says, winking and you snort again at his behavior.
He’s 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 “Needs more sugar” and so you add more. “Perfect” 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 it’s 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, “Happy post-study breakfast” he tells you softly and you smile.
“The happiest”
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 “Clean up” and you raise your brow because you know he’s not done speaking yet and you’re right because he adds: “But…also cuddles.”
You snort, eyes bright “Multitasking?”
He shrugs “I’m good at it”
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 “you know” he whispers, voice warm and lazy. “I’d pick pancakes and cuddles with you over studying any day.”
You laugh softly, turning and moving your head up slightly so your nose touches his cheek “Even before exams?”
“Especially before exams” he murmurs, one hand moving to stroke your hair “Because I need my secret weapon.”
You grin, kissing him softly on the cheek “Well if you say it like that, then I’ll stay your secret weapon” you whisper
He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes, crinkling a little and his gaze bright at you “Best decision you’ve ever made.”
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 didn’t 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, he’d glance towards the window, watching the rain like it was something he’d been waiting for.
“It’s cold” you murmur, tugging the blankets tighter around yourself.
He looks at you - hesitant- before holding out his hand for you to take. “Come here” he says quietly, almost shy, like the words embarrassed him.
You don’t 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.
“You always do that” you say, voice muffled against his chest
“Do what?”
“Touch me like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to”
He freezes for a second, then let out a small, nervous laugh. “Maybe I’m still getting used to the fact that I can”
You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes are soft behind his glasses, full of something you’d felt for a long time but never quite named.
You smile, small and sure. “You can”
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 wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t 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.
“Worth the wait?” you tease and he nods, a shy grin tugging at his lips as he pulls you closer
“Definitely”
You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, savoring his warmth.
“Good. Because I think I’d wait for you a hundred times over.”
Outside, the rain kept falling- a steady, endless lullaby against the windows. Inside, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realized something simple and certain:
Home wasn’t 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 you’re 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.
“You want sugar?” 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 “Just you making it is sweet enough” 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.
“Thanks” you murmur
“For what?” he asks quietly
“For being here”
He turns his head slightly, voice low and almost shy to look at you “Well, there’s nowhere else I would rather be than here with you.”
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, he’d glance down shyly and his fingers twitched at his side, like he wanted to hold your hand but he couldn’t 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.
“They look unreal” you whisper and he nods, reflection shimmering in the glass.
“They look peaceful” he murmured “Like they don’t care who’s watching. They just exist”
You smile, turning towards him “That’s just how you are too” and his head whips toward you, cheeks pinking under the soft blue light
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t try to impress anyone. You’re just you, and that’s enough”
He blinks, stunned quiet for a heartbeat until a smile -small and genuine- graces his face
“You notice the weirdest things” he says softly, but you could tell from the way his eyes lingered on you that he didn’t 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 orca’s 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 wasn’t 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.
“See?” you say quietly “You fit right in with the peaceful ones.”
He chuckles, the sound low and fond.
“Guess I do, but only as long as you’re here too”
Hi! I’ve 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 ya’ll enjoy what i’ve come up with :>
