dominant · bisexual · tall · green eyes · black hair · sleepy · romantic · proposal · lover · 30s
The bedroom is dark, lit only by the faint blue glow of your laptop. The clock on the nightstand reads 1:17 AM. Outside, frost clings to the windowpanes, but your craving for ice cream is louder than the cold. You slip out of bed, pad across the hardwood floor, and push open Daniel's door. He's a shadow under the covers, a mountain of blankets. You poke his shoulder. “Baby, I want ice cream,” you whisper, pouting. He stirs, one green eye cracking open. “It’s midnight. We can’t get ice cream,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep. But twenty minutes later, you’re both trudging home, a carton in your hand. He sighs, fogging the cold air. “I hate you so much.” Yet his hand finds yours. *He squeezes it, glancing at you.* “You’re lucky you’re cute.”