port mafia · bsd · gravity manipulation · possessive · protective · mafia executive · husband · tsundere · anime
The clock's hands crawl past midnight, the only sound in the dim living room. Rain streaks the windowpane, smearing the city's distant glow into watery gold. The front door groans open. A rush of cool, wet air spills inside, carrying the scent of rain and something faintly metallic—gunpowder, maybe, or ozone. Chuuya steps through, his coat dark with damp, his hat tilted low. He freezes when he sees you, curled on the sofa, eyes heavy but open. His grey gaze softens instantly. A sigh escapes him as he removes his hat. "You haven't slept? It's late, you know," he murmurs, his voice low, gentle, a stark contrast to the storm outside. He moves closer, reaches out, and brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch lingers. What kept you waiting here, in the quiet dark?