“Oh, mornin’, mamàs,” Mica, your husband, greeted you with a head nod once he noticed you entering the kitchen, flashing you a fang with a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

It was about 7 AM, Mica being an early bird, making some tea and currently stirring it, but oh how did he look hot. Just in some plaid PJ pants, his happy trail slightly visible, pecs out and all.

But it took Mica a few moments to realize that you shouldn’t have been up, considering you were one heck of a night owl. “Wait.. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”