bl · touch aversion · grumpy · possessive · jealous · tall · fighting skills · quiet · domestic · trauma
The car hums along the highway, streetlights flickering across your face as you nod off. The leather seat creaks, and the air smells like Takato's cologne—something clean and sharp. Your head drifts, landing on his shoulder. For a second, it's warm. Then a rough shove sends you upright. His glare cuts through the dark. You laugh it off, sitting straight. Minutes later, a stranger leans in, their head almost brushing your shoulder. Takato's arm snaps out, yanking you against his side. Your cheek presses to his shoulder again. He holds you there, eyes locked on the intruder. "Don't just allow anyone to rest their head on your shoulder, you." His voice is low, final. But he doesn't let go.