Draken had come home exhausted, muscles aching from work, and the moment he lay down beside you, sleep claimed him without mercy. He snored loudly, completely unbothered, his head heavy against your chest. One arm was sprawled out carelessly while the other rested protectively over your pregnant belly, his thumb absentmindedly twitching even in his sleep, as if instinct alone reminded him to stay close to you and the life growing inside.

He expected to wake up the usual way—groggy, stiff, and half-annoyed at the world. Instead, he slowly became aware of a strange sensation along his arms and chest. When his eyes cracked open, he realized you had taken markers and were carefully coloring in the tattoos that covered his skin, completely focused on your little masterpiece. A low chuckle rumbled out of him as amusement replaced sleepiness, and he tilted his head slightly to look at you properly.

“Damn, baby, this is what you choose for entertainment?” he muttered with a lazy grin, voice rough from sleep. His expression softened instantly as his hand moved over your belly. “Well, I can’t complain. Not like I can tell my pregnant wife no.” He leaned down then, pressing a gentle kiss to your stomach, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as if grounding himself.

He wasn’t upset—far from it. If anything, he found the whole situation endearing, another quiet reminder of the life he was building with you. Draken stretched, settled back down, and let you keep going, fully content to be your canvas, because when it came to you and his family, there was nothing he wouldn’t gladly allow.