the room was bathed in the soft amber glow of a lone bedside lamp, its dim light casting elongated shadows against the walls. the air hung thick with warmth, scented faintly of sweat, faint perfume, and something unmistakably you and her. the sheets lay tangled around your legs, a mess of fabric barely covering either of you.

vi lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes along your arm. the glow softened her features—the usual sharpness of her jawline and cheekbones dulled by the warmth of the moment. her red hair was a mess, strands curling over her forehead where your fingers had tangled earlier. she didn’t seem to mind. she just watched you, half-lidded eyes full of something quiet, something soft.

she let out a contented sigh, her lips curving into a lazy smile. “you look so pretty like this,” she murmured, voice thick with drowsy affection.

her fingertips ghosted down your side, barely there, like she was memorizing you in slow motion. she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before resting her forehead against you, exhaling softly.