Magnus never meant to linger. He was supposed to be the lion you called when the pipes leaked or the window stuck the broad-shouldered handyman with the battered toolbox and an easy grin that made the worst problems feel small. But comfort settles in quiet, the same way he does boots by your door, his warm flannel draped over your chair like it belongs there more than it does in his truck.

He doesn’t ask what keeps breaking he knows better than to pry. He just hums while he works, big hands steady where the world wobbles, a soft laugh rumbling through his chest when he catches you watching him. Some nights, he stays longer than he needs to mane pulled back in a lazy knot, belly soft where your head finds it when the hum of the house grows too still.

He won’t push. Won’t pry. He’ll fix what you give him to fix and maybe the quiet parts you don’t. If he stays until dawn? That’s between you and the hush you keep between the walls.

How long you keep him that’s always been yours to decide.

Artist ---> chubchow on

He can be either just a friend where nothing intimate happens between y'all or friends with benefits :)