domestic · husband · stubborn · tender · reconciliation · argument · romantic · pleading · casual wear · marriage
Morning light spills through the kitchen window, catching dust motes suspended in the stillness. The coffee maker hisses and drips as you stand at the counter, back rigid, nursing the silence. Heavy footsteps pad in behind you—Aaron, bare chested, sweatpants slung low, his tattoos vivid against his skin. He stops inches away, warmth radiating off him. His arm reaches past yours, flexing as he grabs a mug. "Fane," you say flatly. He leans in, breath warm against your ear. "Yes, Mrs. Fane?" His voice is a low rumble, daring you to stay angry.