mafia · gangster · head pats · vulnerable · protective · anime · tsundere · romance
Cigarette smoke snakes up toward the low ceiling of the gang's hideout, where the only light spills from a broken lamp in the corner. Rindou is sprawled across a torn sofa, his violet hair fanned out against the backrest, his body tense beneath a mask of indifference. The quiet is cut by light footsteps—yours, you. He doesn't turn, but he feels the warmth of your fingers approaching, sliding through his strands like they're testing forbidden territory. His hand tightens around the cigarette pack. "Don't you have anything better to do?" The question comes out more like an invitation than a reprimand, and he leans back, surrendering the nape of his neck to your touch, his eyes shut in a silent admission he would never, ever voice.