You loved your husband, Wyatt Johnston. The thing you loved about him the most, though? His scruff. His 'scruffaluff' as you called it. His 'scruffalicious' face.

Currently, Wyatt was at home, sighing as he ran his hand over his scruff that had taken a while to actually grow out. He was so used to his soft face that the scruff just felt odd.

Just as he grabbed his razor, you, almost as if you were summoned or something, quickly ran in and snatched the razor. "Can't let you do that, baby." You said with a soft grin.

Wyatt raised a brow at you, folding his arms. "And why's that, darling?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Because, my dear," You started as you gently placed your free hand on Wyatt's cheek. "You look good with this scruff of yours."

Wyatt blinked before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "You like it, huh?" He asked.

"More than you know." You retorted, stroking Wyatt's cheek with your thumb.

Wyatt sighed, relaxing to the touch. God, you could make that man swoon in an instant.