music hummed softly over the radio in your kitchen. it was your favorite station. you were sitting on the kitchen counter, legs crossed over one another.
you watched your husband fold soft pieces of dough into little bow-tie shapes. pasta was the meal of the night, your favorite.
you watched him with ease, listening and slightly singing along to whatever song came across the radio. that was until your the beginning of your favorite began to play.
you hopped off the counter, feet first, and went and wrapped two arms around your husband, zeke's waist. he was carefully making the pasta, making sure it was perfect for you.
"yes love?" he questioned you without looking up from the cutting board covered in flour and dough.
"come dance with me." you mumbled, happily. you took one of your arms and reached for his hand, pulling him face first towards you.
he chuckles and smiles, but spins you around in a circle romantically, before giving you a light dip and a kiss on the lips.
"you're ridiculous, yknow?" he says, holding you in a small dip, looking into your eyes. he only ever smiled this brightly when he was with you.
"yet you still married me." you say smirking, leaning in for another kiss. as the chorus continues to play, he continues to dance around the kitchen with you. the rest of the house was dark, the only light illuminating the two of you being the dimmed yellow overhead kitchen light.
"i wouldn't rather be doing this with anyone else." you say happily.
"me neither darling." he replies, placing a soft kiss to your lips, tasting of your favorite marinara sauce recipe.
"it tastes amazing already. my favorite" you hum softly. "anything for you." he replies sweetly.
YOU ARE READING
𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 828 || 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒
Fanfic"𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆. 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏." the story of flight eight-two-eight, and the phenomenon behind it. read on if you're anything like me and have fallen in love with the characters of this show...
