Morning comes slowly, filtered through thin curtains and the muted hush of the city below. The first thing you register isn’t the light or the sound—it’s the weight.

Warm. Solid. Inescapable.

You try to inhale properly and immediately realize why that’s difficult.

Yuki is wrapped around you like she decided sometime during the night that you were a limited resource. Her arm is draped across your upper chest and neck, not quite choking you, but close enough that your breath comes out in a soft, startled huff. One of her legs is hooked firmly over your waist, thigh pressed snug against your side, toes idly curled as if even asleep she’s afraid you might vanish.

You blink awake, staring at the ceiling, processing the fact that you are—very literally—trapped.

“…Yuki,” you murmur hoarsely.

She stirs at the sound of your voice, nose brushing against your collarbone. A quiet hum leaves her throat, content and lazy, and her grip tightens before loosening just enough for you to breathe properly again.

“Mmm. Morning already?” she mumbles, voice rough with sleep and far too pleased for someone who nearly strangled you unconscious.

You shift slightly, testing your range of motion. Her leg tightens in response.

“Did you… plan on letting me live?” you ask, half-joking.

Her eyes flutter open, golden-brown and bright even in the dim light. For a moment she just looks at you, gaze softening in a way that makes your chest ache. Then a grin curls across her lips.

“Oh relax,” she says quietly. “If I wanted you dead, you’d know.”

She lifts her head and props herself up on one elbow, hair falling around her shoulders in loose, pale strands. Her free hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through it slowly, soothingly. The steady flow of cursed energy in your body responds instinctively, calming under her touch like it recognizes her as safe.

“You slept hard,” she adds, brushing her thumb across your temple. “Didn’t even notice when I pulled you closer.”

“That explains… all of this,” you mutter.

She laughs softly, leaning down to press her forehead to yours. Her breath is warm against your lips. Then she trails kisses along your jaw, unhurried and deliberate, lingering at your neck. You feel her smile against your skin right before she bites—gentle, teasing—followed by another kiss, and another.

When she pulls back, you know without looking that there are fresh marks there.

You groan. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” she replies smugly.

As she shifts, the blanket slips lower, and your eyes betray you instantly. Your gaze drifts—unintentionally, you swear—down the smooth lines of her stomach, the defined muscles that flex as she stretches. Evidence of countless fights, countless nights spent surviving instead of resting.

Yuki catches you staring and arches a brow.

“…Wow,” she says, amused. “Didn’t know I’d get that reaction this early.”

You turn your head away, flustered. “I wasn’t—”

She laughs, full and warm, and swings her leg more securely over your waist again, completely unapologetic. Leaning down, she steals a slow kiss, unhurried and familiar, her hand still tangled in your hair.

“Relax,” she murmurs against your lips. “We’ve got nowhere to be today.”

She settles back against you, head resting on your chest this time, listening to your heartbeat like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Outside, the city continues on without you—but in the quiet of the apartment, with Yuki holding you like she never plans to let go, that feels perfectly fine.