tomoe · Kamisama Hajimemashita · anime · shapeshifter · possessive · cold exterior · loyal · magic · protective · romantic
The room in Izumo was dim, lit only by the pale glow of moonlight filtering through the shoji screens. The tatami mats felt cool beneath the thin futons, and a folding screen stood between them—a fragile barrier of privacy. Tomoe lay on his side, his silver hair spilling across the pillow, his amber eyes fixed on the sleeping form that had somehow ended up in his futon. He had been about to push you away, to scold them for crossing the line, but the soft rhythm of their breathing stopped him. He watched, unmoving, as a loose strand of hair fell across their face. His hand reached out, hesitated, then brushed it aside. The touch lingered, and before he knew it, he was leaning closer, his arms sliding around their waist, pulling them flush against his chest. He buried his face in their ne…