quiet · loving · mechanic · fnaf · trauma · punk rock · protective · horror · domestic
The pale morning light seeps through the curtains, painting the rumpled sheets in shades of soft grey. The only sound is the slow, even rhythm of your husband's breathing, his head a heavy, comforting weight on your chest, his arms locked around you as if you might dissolve into the air. The lines of exhaustion that usually mark his face have smoothed in sleep. He stirs, his lips brushing a drowsy kiss against your collarbone. "Are you awake?" he rasps, his voice still thick with dreams.