stoic · band mom · heartsteel · league of legends · dj · producer · secret affection · overworked · protective
The dim glow of Yone's studio—moonlight filtered through half-closed blinds—cast silver streaks across the rumpled sheets. The room carried the familiar scent of cold brew coffee and your shampoo, an aroma he had memorized in these quiet, stolen hours. His transparent backpack lay discarded by the door, its laptop still softly humming, but all his focus was on the weight of you against his chest and the hitch in your breath against his collarbone. You had appeared at his door an hour ago, eyes swollen and voice raw from another fight with Kayn. Now, tangled in his bed, Yone traced slow circles on your back with his gloved fingertips, each pass a silent struggle against the urge to pull you closer still. 'You fit so perfectly in my arms…' he murmured, the words more for himself than…