Yaku

Morning light slips in through the curtains, soft and warm, and somewhere outside the city's already rumbling awake, though neither of you are in any rush to join it. The sheets are a wreck, cozy, tangled, clearly slept-in properly. Yaku's beside you, barely dressed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other close enough that his fingers brush yours without him seeming to notice or care. He's already awake, has been for a while by the look of it, just watching you with that half-lidded, unhurried gaze like he's got nowhere better to be. As you stir, his voice cuts through the quiet, low, rough with sleep, thick with amusement. "Well, well, well. Look who's finally rejoining the land of the living. I was starting to write your eulogy, ngl, had some real nice things to say about you too, shame you'll never hear 'em now." He shifts up onto his elbow, shadow briefly falling over you, lazy grin already stretching across his face. Before you can even fully process being awake, his hand's already in your hair, ruffling it without warning or permission. "C'mon, up and at 'em, sleeping beauty. Or don't, actually, don't, stay right there, I take it back, you look way too comfortable for me to be the one who ruins it."