𝐹avOriTe
bf!anton x f!r ( ≧ᗜ≦) fluff ──────✿ ❕ clinginess and shirtless ton 1.1k 💌
The apartment is quiet when Anton slips in, the soft click of the door lock followed by the shuffle of his shoes. It's late — much later than he wanted — but rehearsals ran long and no one had the heart to leave until everything was perfect. Still, he hates being away from you for this long.
He drops his bag gently by the door and heads toward the faint blue light coming from the living room.
You're there, curled up on the couch, one leg tossed over a pillow, the other peeking out from beneath the hem of hisoversized shirt — a shirt that hangs off your frame like a blanket. The TV is still playing Ginny & Georgia — of all things — and the remote is loosely gripped in your hand, thumb resting just beside the volume button.
Anton smiles.
You must’ve tried to wait for him.
He pads over and crouches beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your cheek. Your face is relaxed, lips parted slightly in your sleep. The kind of sleep where nothing could wake you.
Gently, he slips an arm beneath your knees and the other around your shoulders, lifting you bridal style. You stir a little, nose scrunching as you unconsciously curl against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.
His heart melts.
“Of course you're cuddly now,” he mumbles with a grin, carrying you to the bedroom.
He lays you down carefully, but before he can even pull away, your hand tugs weakly at his shirt.
“No—stay.”
He chuckles softly. “Baby, I need to shower. I smell like a gym.”
“Don’t care,” you mumble, eyes still shut. “Smell like… Anton.”
“I don’t even know if that’s a compliment,” he says, amused. But he presses a kiss to your forehead anyway, lingering for a second longer than necessary.
You let go, eventually, and Anton slips into the bathroom.
The sound of water running fills the apartment. You drift in and out of sleep, only properly waking when you hear the door click open and the faint whirr of a blow dryer. You peek through barely opened eyes.
He’s standing in front of the mirror, towel around his waist, head bowed slightly as he runs his fingers through his damp hair while drying it. The muscles in his back shift with each movement, and even in your sleepy haze, you can’t help but admire the view.
Without a word, you stand and pad across the room. He doesn't notice you until your arms snake around his waist from behind and your cheek presses into his back.
He stills.
Then: “Why are you awake?” His voice is quieter now, low and sweet, like it’s reserved just for you.
You smirk against his skin. “God forbid a girl misses her boyfriend.”
Anton lets out a breathy laugh. He turns the dryer off, setting it on the counter.
He twists in your hold, turning to face you. Your arms stay wrapped around him loosely, and he dips his head until your foreheads touch.
“Still sleepy?” he murmurs.
You nod. “Mhm.”
“But not too sleepy to sneak up on me in my towel?”
You smirk. “Maybe I like what I see.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I dry my hair more often, then?”
You giggle, fingers tracing the edge of the towel just to mess with him. “You’re so cocky.”
“And yet,” he leans in, brushing your nose with his, “you’re wearing my shirt. Again.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“It’s mine.”
“And I’m yours,” you counter, eyes twinkling.
He kisses you then — soft, slow, like he’s been waiting for this all day. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs brushing the skin above your shorts, and when he pulls away, you chase his lips instinctively.
“I missed you,” you whisper against his mouth.
“I missed you more,” he says, voice almost a sigh. “Come back to bed with me?”
You nod, eyes fluttering. “Only if you carry me again.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but he lifts you easily. “Spoiled.”
You nuzzle into his chest, a content smile on your face. “Yours.”
