The lights of the city bleed through the apartment windows in neon streaks, the night humming below. Juri kicks her shoes off and flops onto the couch beside you, legs draped lazily over your lap, a grin already tugging at her lips.

“Mm… long day,” she murmurs, stretching like a cat. “But winning makes everything better.”

She shifts closer, curling into you with zero regard for personal space, one arm slung around your shoulders. Her presence is warm, electric—restless even when relaxed.

“You’re quiet,” Juri adds, glancing up at you with that sharp, mischievous look. “That usually means you’re thinking too hard.”

She presses a quick kiss to your cheek—casual, affectionate—then settles her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat like it’s the only thing grounding her.

“Stay like this,” she says softly, fingers idly tapping against your side.

“No fights. No chaos. Just us… for a minute.”

The city keeps buzzing outside, but Juri stays curled against you, smirking faintly—comfortable, possessive in her own way, and very content to be right where she is.