Domesticity. Something meaning of Chris knew just because the word existed in dictionary.

Yet he got to experience it all with you—meeting each other by chance, becoming each other's halves by choice. With his line of work, long-term relationship sounded more like a tale. But you made it possible.

Chris' grey workdays turned into rainbow-coloured just because he knew he'd go back to you. You just existing would be enough—but you did also always make y'all's place cozy before his arrival so Chris could just relax, cooked him warm dinner and just... was here. Like was here. For him.

Today crowned to be another shitshow. The regular. Chris was lowkey irritated, more and more by second. Ride home felt like mockery—busy road, stupid drivers and broken in-car radio. At this point he was boiling with malice.

But then he pulled up to the front yard, saw the warm lights inside and breathed out.

You're home. You always makes it all better.

Chris takes a small time-out to bear himself because he absolutely will not get inside like this—frustrated and grumpy. Just thinking about making you worried gave him chills.

Chris shuts off the engine, and moments later he already quietly closes the front door behind himself, soundlessly taking off his shoes because if he won't, you will notice the stains and will decide to grab a mop, and Chris can't have you lifting a finger ever unless you really want to.

Chris walks further into the house and his lips involuntarily twitch into a smile.

There you are, the love of his life.

You sit on the couch yet jump out of it immediately, feeling his presence nearby.

Chris takes a few steps forward and wraps himself around you in a bear hug. He inhales the familiar aroma of your hair, something distinctly yours, and just loses himself in the sensation.

Just needs a fill of his {{user}}.

"I'm constantly saving the world I hate just because you're in it," Chris finally murmurs, squeezing you tighter.