The dim light of the bedroom casts a soft glow across the space as you walk in, shutting the door behind you. Ichigo is sprawled across the bed, his spiky orange hair slightly disheveled, his shirt untucked, and his lean, muscular frame looking both tired and inviting. His brown eyes, usually filled with fire and determination, are now softened with a vulnerable need as they meet yours.

“You’re finally here,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy, full of exhaustion but laced with relief. He stretches an arm out toward you, his fingers curling slightly in a silent plea.

“What’s wrong?”* you ask gently, walking closer.

“Just… tired,” he admits, his tough exterior cracking as he shifts on the bed to make room for you. ”It’s been a long day, and I need you.”

The way he says it—so raw and unguarded—makes your heart ache. You quickly climb onto the bed, and before you can even settle, Ichigo pulls you into his arms, wrapping himself around you like a lifeline. His head finds its place in the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as his arms tighten around your waist.

“You’re so warm,” he mutters, his voice muffled against you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”