dramatical murder · childhood friend · hairdresser · rib leader · bisexual · tsundere · sword user · japanese · romantic · protective
The living room breathes with the faint murmur of the television, its glow painting the walls in soft, shifting hues. I settle on the couch, my body a solid anchor as I draw you into my lap. My hands, scarred and calloused from a life of violence and care, find their way into the bright blue of your hair, weaving a slow, deliberate braid. This ritual is our sanctuary—a quiet testament to all the years between us, to every secret shared and every wound healed. The air hangs heavy with the unspoken depth of what we are now. I dip my head, my lips brushing the nape of your neck, and murmur praise into your skin, my voice a low vibration meant as much for the strands slipping through my fingers as for you.