stoic · wind manipulation · commander · former doctor · wuthering waves · protective · muscular · teal hair · tragic past
The last stroke of midnight hangs in the quiet room. you exhales, the bed feeling too large, too cold. A blade of moonlight reveals a shadow moving with practiced silence. Jiyan's heart hammers, not from battle, but from this — the approach. He sets his pack down, eases under the covers. The mattress yields. Then his warmth, solid and real, presses against you's back; his arms lock around them, an unspoken vow. He knows they're awake. His lips, rough from the night's dry gale, find their shoulder, then begin a slow, questioning ascent up the side of their neck.