hold me closer why don’t you hold me close
another soft osc fic apparently my posts don’t reach that many people anymore due to spam likes so idk wha to do
You slipped into bed, the sheets cool against your skin, the air humming with the kind of quiet that only existed after something beautiful.
Oscar lifted the blanket for you, his arm instantly finding your waist the moment you lay down.
His skin was warm, his heartbeat a steady thud beneath your palm as you rested it on his chest.
For a moment you both just looked at each other no words, only the smallest, awed smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths.
His eyes were still sparkling from laughter and champagne, a little sleepy, a little overwhelmed.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hi,” he whispered back, voice soft enough to make your stomach flutter.
You reached up and brushed your fingertips along his jaw, feeling the faint roughness there, the warmth that lingered.
He leaned into your touch automatically, and you giggled quietly when his nose bumped yours.
“You’re staring again,” you teased.
He grinned.
“Can’t help it. My wife’s very pretty.”
The word wife sent a shiver down your spine new and dizzying and sweet.
You laughed, hiding your face in his chest, and he chuckled too, his breath stirring the top of your hair.
For a while, neither of you said anything.
You just touched gentle, exploring, memorising. The pad of your thumb tracing the shape of his lips.
His fingertips tracing lazy circles on your lower back.
The kind of quiet intimacy that didn’t need language.
He shifted slightly, pulling you closer until every inch of you was pressed against him.
His biceps framed you like a blanket, solid and protective, and you could feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours.
The soft brush of his breath touched your hair, his heart a slow drum beneath your palm.
When you tilted your head up again, you kissed the small mole near his cheekbone barely a peck, more a whisper of contact than a kiss.
Then one at the corner of his jaw, another near his temple.
He smiled, eyes fluttering shut.
“What’re you doing?” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.
“Loving you,” you said softly.
“One dot at a time.”
That made him laugh quietly, that shy, happy laugh you adored and then he kissed you.
Not deep or urgent, just the gentlest press of lips, followed by another, and another, until you were both smiling into it.
It was all giddy love from there tiny kisses scattered across faces and cheeks, bursts of giggles when noses bumped, breathless little sighs that came from the sheer joy of it all.
You felt his smile against your lips and couldn’t help giggling again, and he murmured,
“I can’t believe we get to do this forever.”
You brushed your nose against his, whispering, “We already are.”
He tightened his hold around you then, his arm strong at your waist, his hand resting on the small of your back, thumb stroking soft lines against your skin.
Every touch was reverent, unhurried like he wanted to remember the texture of your warmth, the rhythm of your breathing, the way you fit against him like you’d always been meant to.
Your legs tangled under the sheets, the fabric rustling softly as you both shifted to get even closer if that was possible.
You could feel his smile against your forehead, his breath warm and steady as he whispered, “You smell like flowers and cake.”
You laughed into his neck.
“You smell like cologne and champagne.”
“Good mix,” he murmured, and you nodded sleepily, tracing the faint freckles on his collarbone with your fingertip.
He kissed your hair, slow and tender, then your temple, then your nose.
“You okay?”
“More than okay,” you said, voice muffled by his chest.
“I don’t want to move ever again.”
“Then don’t,” he whispered.
And you didn’t.
You stayed wrapped up in his arms, skin against skin, hearts beating slow and in sync.
The world outside didn’t exist; there was only warmth, laughter, the faint rustle of the sheets, and the kind of love that felt brand new and ancient at once.
As your eyes grew heavy, you felt him press one last kiss to your forehead and murmur, almost in awe,
“I love you, wife.”
And all you could do was smile, your lips brushing the place where his heartbeat lived, and whisper back,
“I love you too, husband.”
