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[babyboke]

My child in an interview with Al Jazeera

[babyboke]

and if i said jid had the best verse on coup de grace what then?

[babyboke]

soft boy

aone x reader

someone messed with your super sweet boyfie and it gets to him...

warnings: angst to fluff, insecurities, reverse comfort, aone cries

The best thing about having a quiet boyfriend is the reactions you get out them. Except lately, Aone hasn’t been reacting too well to your touch. His fingers will flinch in yours and not hold them as tightly as he used to, he hugs you a little more loosely before leaving to practice, and one particular time, he turned his his head so you kissed his cheek instead of his lips.

I mean, Futakuchi saw something was wrong the moment Aone’s face didn’t light up as it usually did when he picked you up from practice before all this started.

He invited you to come over after school, but you couldn’t tell if he really wanted you there by the distant look in his eyes. It’s quite colder without Aone’s tiny smiles or pointed reactions toward the things he likes and doesn’t.

Coming over to his house just seems kinda scary given how he’s distanced himself from you and he gets teary as he watches you make yourself a snack thinking about how you haven’t asked him about how he’s been feeling. Didn’t you care?

“Hey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

He doesn’t think he should look at you, his eyes feel puffy and he hasn’t even cried. He sucks the inside of his bottom lip not knowing what to say, opting for simply humming. He wants to say something more, but why should he?

Then your hand in his hair, fingernails scraping softly over that spot that always brings a smile out of him no matter what doesn’t make your sweet boyfriend lift his head. “I didn’t want to say anything, but we’re all worried about you.”

You echo Futakuchi to the letter and his heart wrenches because he knows, but now it’s sinking in like a weight in the water hearing it come from you. The soft caress seemed to be the force that pushes him over.

“I didn’t want to pry, but I’ll know you’ll talk to me when you’re ready.”

Then he spots the little tupperware dish with food in it, his fingers running over the edge of it and he knows you’re smiling when he sees it. “Oh! I asked your mom to make your favorite. Since you haven’t been feeling good.”

His hands take your waist and his head is set against your stomach. The slight tremble to his hands make your brows furrow.

“Hey, what–”

“I should talk more, right?” His voice nothing more than a rumble of whisper.

“Who told you that?” Your fingers carded through his white tresses and up enough so that you saw Aone’s face.

His cheeks were puffy and lip trembling as a few tears wet his already damp cheeks. He turned his cheek into the hand caressing the side of his face, lips in your palm as his hands came up to curl over your forearms

“If I talked more, people wouldn’t be so afraid of me.” He set his hand over the one brushing his tears away while his lips shook. The choked noise in his throat, caught between sob and sniffle made your heart ache.

“Come here.” You pulled him into your chest, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and letting him pull you into his lap so he could completely engulf you in his embrace. Another sob fell from his mouth and into your skin, then another and another as you rubbed his back. “People are always afraid, baby. You happen to remind them of that, even if it’s through intimidation or just being the gentle person you are.”

Thoughts of first meeting his team ran through his head, how Futakuchi was nervous when he first met him and how getting to know them all just seemed to make them less nervous. Less afraid.

“If someone really wants to be friends, they’ll go out of their way for you. It takes pushing out of your comfort zone to face something you’re afraid of.”

Aone settled his head on your chest, fingers faintly tracing odd shapes into your back every now and then when he piped up, his voice low and watery, “Did you? When we met?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask, but you had to keep yourself from getting too worked up over how you first met.

“No. We clicked really well, remember?” You leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. His arms tightening around your middle when he gazed up at you. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid, but to be fair, the power went out in the library and you did kind of sneak up on me.”

“You scared me, too.” mumbled into your shirt.

You smiled upon the memory, the squeak Aone gave out when you screamed was hilarious now that you looked back on it. Falling, having a pile of books crash down on the two of you, and Aone holding up a jellyfish night light to your face to make sure you were okay was probably the best way for you to meet him.

You held him tighter when he leaned up and buried his face in your neck, “Being with you isn’t a challenge if that’s what you’re implying. You’re the sweetest, bestest Takanobu I could ever ask for.”

He let out a sigh, digging his face into the crook of your jaw, “Even if I look freakish?”

A hand on his cheek gently guided his head out of your neck and you met his eyes, pout clearly deepening further into his face the more he looked into the softening sternness on his face. “Do you know why I was so shaky on our first date?”

He shook his head, eyes almost pleading as he looked up at you.

“Because you’re so, so handsome, baby.”

A kiss to his nose and his face took on a gentlest shade of rose and you cupped his cheeks, softly brushing your lips over both and smiling a little when you heard his breath catch. “Barely have the nerve to look at you for too long.”

He peered up at you, “Then.. at my games?”

You turned your head, chewing your lip not sure if you wanted to confirm his sweaty and ecstatic form post game and sometimes after practice had you on edge.

Aone’s heart caught in his chest, how could you be so cute even when making him feel better. A tap to your cheek and upon turning your head you felt Aone’s lips against your cheek briefly. “Thank you.”

He looked bashful, licking his lips and face darkening a shade to make him look so pretty, glancing up at you and choosing to fumble with the edge of your shirt. “I know I should ask first, but–”

You grabbed your boyfriend’s face, pulling him in and pressing your lips tightly against his making him groan so sweetly against your lips and look up at you with a dazed look on his face.

“I could never get tired of sounds like that.” Your smile had him turning his head, but he let out the tiniest gasp, so pitched that it was hardly registered by the ear when he saw your predatory gaze. “Now, who the fuck told you all those things?”

[babyboke]

thinking about car mechanic iwa who see's you run into his shop with tears in your eyes, drenched from the rain, crying because your car is making a weird noise and symbols are popping up and you don't know what to do because your dad isn't picking up. you tell him all these through broken sobs as he rubs your back comfortingly. he gives you a towel to dry off and some shitty hot coffee with atleast six sugar packets mixed inside...hoping to warm you up. he goes into your car and checks out what's wrong. your car might take a while to get fixed but he promises he can do it. you thank him graciously when he walks to you the loaner cars.

two weeks later you show up at his shop again, and it's a hotter day and you see him with sweat dripping down his VERY toned chest (he's shirtless bc of the heat and their fan does literally nothing to help) with oil stains on his cheek. were his eyes always this green? you think to yourself. when he hands you the keys back to your car and you start it up, everything works perfectly. once you pay he gives you a little discount (he doesn't tell you though) and you want to thank him..maybe with dinner?

[babyboke]

the bet

feat. Kenma

Kenma knows better than to wager any bets with his fans.

But he was feeling incredibly confident while streaming one night- he had yet to lose to any of the bosses. It was rare to see Kenma’s ego to be inflated like this, but given that he was having quite the win streak, no one could blame him.

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[babyboke]

He’s jealous.

Such an emotion is rare for Tsukishima, and he hates the feeling of it. The “big green monster” that he often hears from those around him has never plagued him—never made him feel the need to crumble into a hole and wallow in self-pity.

However, when he sees you smile from afar, touching the arm of a man unknown, his skin crawls.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—Tsukishima knows good and well the amount of love you harbor for him. Butterfly kisses that spread across his skin after a rough day, warm hands clutching his on a warm summer’s day, and eyes always fixed on his as if he knew all the secrets the universe holds.

He knows of your devotion and he’s assured of it.

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[babyboke]

hot things sero hanta does

✸ ft. sero hanta

✸ info + warnings: suggestive

✸ a/n: dedicated to @cellotonins​ who introduced me to sero nation

bakugo version :: izuku version :: todoroki version

✸ pulls you close to him by your belt loops.

instead of drawing you in by your hand or arm, sero opts for a more unconventional approach. when you aren’t paying attention to where you’re walking and your gaze is elsewhere, he reels you back in by pulling on the sliver of denim that sits just below the small of your back. during moments when he wants you within his reach but you’re being stubborn or moving too slow for his liking, hanta takes matter into his own hands, hooking his fingers in the loops of your jeans and giving them a tug so you’re forced to stumble into him. pout all you want at his less than gentle methods; all he’s going to do is kiss it away with a deep chuckle.

✸ manspreads while he’s waiting for you on the couch.

it’s a natural habit of his to sit so comfortably, long legs spread wide and utilizing all of the space available. a hand leisurely rests on the back of his head while the other is busy aimlessly scrolling through apps on his phone. you always take a moment to admire him—the way he rolls his neck to keep it from cramping and the breaths of quiet laughter that slip past his lips. you stare for a while before a shift in your footing and creaky floorboards give you away. he looks up at the disruption, easily tossing his phone aside upon catching you. he wastes no time tapping his thigh with one hand and curling his index and middle fingers on the other, beckoning you to come fill the empty spot between his legs that he’s been saving for you.

✸ leans down and taps his ear when he can’t hear you.

in large crowds where loud voices blend into a cacophony of noise and drown out your words, sero wants to be sure he can hear you and that you know he’s making an effort to listen. instead of asking you to speak up, he spares you the unnecessary shouting by bending at his hips so his ear is level with you mouth, tapping his pinna to silently signal his difficulty hearing. you catch on quickly, cupping his ear before continuing your sentence. while he’s able to hear you much better, he finds himself distracted by your breath and how the streams of air tickle his ear. when you look at him in search of a response to your words, he grins and sheepishly asks that you repeat yourself.

✸ keeps a toothpick between his teeth.

he always has at least one tiny wooden pick stashed away in his pocket or tucked behind his ear for safe keeping. he never goes too long without taking one out, effortlessly twirling it between his fingers before sticking it between his rows of pearly whites. he goes on about his day, taking part in all his normal activities as he mindlessly bites down on the short skewer, causing it to bob up and down. whenever he feels your eyes on him, silently taking in the sight, he huffs out a laugh. why not give you a show? he meets your gaze before rolling the pick around with his tongue, all while his lips are pulled upwards into a knowing smile.

✸ always rolls up his sleeves so you can see his arms.

each time he throws on a hoodie or a sweater, the sleeves meant to conceal his arms are almost immediately shoved up past his elbows. it gives you a better look at the minimalist jewelry he wears on his wrists and a partial one at the tattoos peeking out from beneath his shirt. even when he’s wearing short sleeves he’ll still push the fabric up to his shoulders, deliberately displaying the intricate lines of ink that wrap around and swirl up each of his arms. the content of his tattoo sleeves vary in design and color—peonies on one arm and koi fish on the other. he can’t stop himself from smirking when your eyes shift from his in favor of staring at the toned muscles of his arms instead.

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[babyboke]

late night rendezvous

pairing — haitani rindou x reader

summary — rindou wakes up to find you, his pregnant wife, gone

note — i love the idea of ran and rindou’s wife being best friends. rindou would absolutely hate it. likes and reblogs are always appreciated

Sleepily reaching across the bed, Rindou awoke in confusion as he was met with nothing but cold bed sheets. Glancing around the room, it was clear that you were nowhere in sight, leaving your husband perplexed in regard to where you could be at one in the morning. The house was too quiet, uncharacteristic of how it would usually be if you were actually home, especially in your condition at six months pregnant.

Hastily throwing aside the blanket and covers, Rindou hurried downstairs in the hopes of possibly finding you in the kitchen or living room, all while trying to convince himself that everything would be fine. When you were still nowhere to be seen, Rindou was certain that one step away from a panic attack when the sound of the front door and your voice immediately refocused his attention. He was about to hurry over and question you for making him worry when another voice spoke up, causing Rindou to freeze as he listened to your conversation.

“Ran,” you addressed worryingly. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh really?” his brother replied in amusement, and Rindou could practically see the smirk on his older brother’s face. “That’s not what you said last night. Or last week. Or even the week before that.”

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[babyboke]

it’s kinda adorable — the way kenma wakes you up if he ever wakes up earlier than you (a rarity, one in a million chance). he’d choose one of two tactics. he’d either lay flat on top, putting all his weight on you, his chin resting atop your chest. he’d lay there for however long it takes you to wake up from him literally squishing you. or he’d squat beside the bed or straddle you, with a cute little frown on his face and lips in a pout. he’d repeatedly poke you cheeks and whisper to you (over time, the whispers turn to whisper-yells, and it is incredibly hilarious and cute) to wake up. he might mumble a bit about how adorable you look too. once you show signs of waking up, he’d leave quick peck on your cheek and look at you with the absolute cutest face. sometimes, you’d pretend to be asleep just to see that look on his face, but don’t tease him too much about that after. we don’t want a grumpy ken-ken, do we now? <3

[babyboke]

Tommy x Lizzie — PEAKY BLINDERS S05E03

[babyboke]

TOKYO REV BOYS COMING HOME TO YOU AFTER A LONG DAY

— feat. draken, mikey, baji, chifuyu + hanma.

— warnings: use of more female leaning petnames but just some fluffy soft boys and questionable characterisation, please go easy on me :( 

a/n: first post of headcanons that im kind of super nervous for ngl, please bare with me with characterisation hhhh. 

જ DRAKEN he’d returned home after a long day at the shop, muscles sore from working but you notice that he still has such a soft expression on his face when his eyes lock with your own in the doorway. “welcome home, ken.” your voice has a familiar warmth blooming in his chest as his arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him while allowing himself to melt into your embrace, squeezing you and lifting you up slightly just so he can hear you giggle before wriggling in his hold. “glad to be home, princess.” his tone is smooth, but you can almost hear the exhaustion in his words, pulling away slightly to narrow your eyes up at him- earning you a scoff from the blonde as he pats your head “im fine.” draken breathes, tightening his hold on your waist before shooting you a brighter kind of smile and throwing you over his shoulder “but i just need this for a little longer.” and when you hear him chuckle at your surprised shriek, you know its to reassure you that aslong as he has you to come home to, he always will be. 

જ MIKEY you hadn’t heard him come home, jolting slightly from your place on the couch when you see his figure in the doorway, head hanging low and hair tousled while it hangs over his eyes. “long day?” you ask, earning only a tired groan in reply before the man finally approaches you and almost flops down into the place next to you with a sigh. he looks a little distant, eyes focused on the coffee table infront of him but you note that his palm is still warm when it rests against your thigh. “ill take that as a yes.” you hear mikey breathe deep at your words, and you soften because you’ve known him long enough to know hes smiling before you finally reach for him, guiding him to rest against your body as he shuffles closer to you- allowing himself to melt into your embrace as you smooth your hands through his hair, knowing that it will only be a few minutes before he’s sleeping softly because its only with you he truly feels safe.

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[babyboke]

thinkin about how rindou puts his glasses on ur head before he leaves to go fight. ur job is to just sit there all pretty and watch ur boyfie’s glasses while he goes and fucks around w ran for like an hour. he pinches ur nose if u put them on ur face properly and smiles (not that u can rlly see his smile . he’s like legally blind rindou r u ok) makes him real happy when he comes back to u and u put them back on his face w a lil kiss on his nose (not in front of the others tho please!!!!!! especially not in front of ran omg) pinches ur waist when u do that and then pouts at u to help patch him up. and yes the antiseptic makes him tear up when u clean his busted lip (he’s a little baby i’m telling u) and he’ll tell u that ur kisses will fix him (please kiss him he’s asking u nicely just one little ktih) and yes he’ll get even more upset if u don’t give him a lil kiss so please give him a smooch!!!!!!

[babyboke]

bakugou katsuki is six when he pushes his mother away from him for the first time, a loud “EW!” escaping his lips once she’d kissed his cheek goodnight.

“‘ew’?” mitsuki’s eyes narrow at him, tucked comfortably in his little bed with All Might themed blankets. he pouts, furiously wiping at the spot where her lips had pressed against his skin.

“don’t kiss me, it’s gross,” he tells her, sticking his tongue out to hammer in his point. she scoffs and deliberately leans down to press a much wetter one to the same cheek. he makes an indignant noise, pushing her away again with a small hand that pops tiny sparks at her. “stop that!”

“one day you’ll miss your mother’s kisses, brat,” mitsuki tells him, ruffling his hair as she pulls away and leans over to flick off the lamp near his bed. it encases them in darkness lit only slightly by the full moon peering through his bedroom window. “then we’ll see what’s so gross about them.”

“like hell!” he exclaims in return, getting a wallop on the top of his head as his mother chides him for his language. he clutches at his head, his pout deepening. “go away already!”

mitsuki rolls her eyes, retreating to the hallway so she can head to her own bed for the night. she wishes him goodnight, then closes his door, leaving a frowning katsuki in the dark.

bakugou katsuki is eleven when a random girl in his class tries to hug him.

“get the hell off of me!” he spits out in that pre-pubescent voice of his as he shoves her away. she stumbles and trips, landing in a heap on the floor of the classroom they’re in. her big eyes look up at his scowling form, his arms crossed haughtily over his chest.

“but katsuki,” she pouts at him, “it’s valentine’s day! i just wanted to give you a hug!”

“don’t fucking touch me again, extra,” he practically growls out, then stalks away. his friends follow after him, snickering behind their palms as the girl frowns on the ground, nearly reduced to tears.

bakugou katsuki is sixteen when one of his classmates at U.A. slings an arm around his shoulder nonchalantly during lunch.

“piss off,” he snarls as he shoves the arm away, irritated that his meal had been interrupted. kaminari raises his hands in a nonthreatening manner, attempting to soothe the angry force that is the ash-blond.

“whoa there kacchan, no need to get your panties in a twist.” he grins, sliding away from katsuki slightly when a vicious glare is aimed his way.

“oooh, kaminari, haven’t you heard?” ashido leans in closer to whisper in a not-so-quiet voice. “the beast doesn’t like being touched. careful, or he’ll bite your arm off.” at this, katsuki shoots them a heated glare, and they let out playful little yelps, clutching onto each other dramatically.

“lighten up bakubro,” kirishima says cheerfully as he slaps a hand onto katsuki’s shoulder. “they’re just messing with ya!”

katsuki sends another glare at the redhead, practically stabbing his chopsticks into the piece of katsu in his bowl, but ultimately says nothing else as he shrugs the hand off his shoulder.

bakugou katsuki is twenty-two when you tap him on his upper arm for the first time, trying to catch his attention.

“what,” he grunts, already irritated since he had to wake up at ass o’clock in the morning for a patrol.

“uh, dynamight sir, i’ve got your new gauntlets here ready,” you tell him as you hold up said items. they’re slimmer, he notices approvingly, taking one in his hands to inspect the gleaming metal. he’d damaged his old ones in battle not too long ago and had to get the support team of his agency to remodel some new ones.

“they have a new latching mechanism,” you explain as you point out a funky piece of metal near the top that would go around his forearm. he eyes it, already trying to mentally figure out how it works. “i’ll need to show you how to properly adjust it—it’s a bit tricky.”

there’s a moment where he just wants to tell you to leave it—that he’ll figure it out later. but you’re already fiddling around with the gauntlet you’re still holding onto, unlatching a piece of metal swiftly and holding it out to him with an expectant look on your face.

he stares at you, eyes tracing the contours of your cheeks for a few seconds, then huffs out his nose and sticks his arm out. you’re quick with getting the device around his forearm, explaining to him what to do as he listens on and tries to ignore the soft touches of your fingers on his skin.

bakugou katsuki is twenty-three when he realizes he subconsciously craves your presence, your touch.

fleeting brushes of skin on skin when you pass by him in his agency, patting him on the shoulder. your hands wrapping around his arm when you want to pull him down to the support lab to test new items. your fingers threading through his hair when you see it all mussed up from a battle, a small smile on your face.

he realizes, as he stiffly stands one day in your tight hold, that he doesn’t quite know how to reciprocate affection. his hands hang awkwardly at his sides and he swallows thickly when you pull away and peer up at him, checking him for any injuries.

“you okay?” you whisper to him, and fuck that look in your eyes makes him want to do so many things. but he doesn’t know how.

he knows that he wasn’t the most affectionate when he was younger. he’d scoffed in the face of any sort of intimacy, his pride making him feel above that sort of thing. that just wasn’t his personality. that’s not who he was, simple as that. or at least, that’s what he’d thought.

“m’okay,” he finds himself mumbling, the urge to bury his head into your hair so overwhelmingly strong. but something holds him back. something stops him from taking that extra step. and he wishes he knew why he’s like this, why he’s so hardened to simple affections like this. why he can’t give you what you deserve.

but he can change. he knows he can.

bakugou katsuki is twenty-four when he finally learns to hug back, just for you.

he learns to wrap his arms around your waist, tugging you closer to him so that your bodies can practically meld together. he learns how to tuck his head down into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume as though it was ambrosia. he learns to gently bump his forehead against yours to make you giggle and hold onto him tighter.

all of this and more, katsuki learns so he can get you to smile that soft smile you seem to reserve only for him. he’s become addicted, now that he’s gotten his first taste, and his life has changed for the better as a result.

so when you press a wet kiss to his cheek one day when he gets home from a particularly grueling mission, he finds himself leaning down into your touch instead of pushing you away, a content smile on his face.

[babyboke]

pets

[babyboke]

"SAY IT WITH YOUR HANDS" for A Series of "I Love You's"

Pairing: Tsukishima x Fem!Reader

Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, this is SOFT BOY HOURS

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Some things feel impossible to say aloud, at first. Good thing words aren't always needed.

Note: Fluff. God, nothing gets me more than soft Tsukki.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you and Tsukishima first started dating. He had asked you out so casually, without preamble or pretense. Just a short question, in between your college lectures, in between the spaces of friendship and the careful beginnings of something more. Part of you had half expected to wake up the next morning and realize you had dreamt it all. (The other part of you thought he had been teasing you in some cruel way. You had almost tripped on thin air when you realized he was being serious.)

In a lot of ways, it’s easy, because nothing has changed. He still competes with you for the higher grade, still has a parry ready for any of your smartass remarks. He still taps you on the forehead with his pencil when you start zoning out. He still walks you to your dorm room after classes.

In a lot of ways, you feel at a loss, because everything has changed. Of course it has. Because now he punctuates every quick comeback with a peck on your forehead. Now, he pulls you in by the loops of your pants, kissing you goodbye, with you shoulder blades pressed against your room door. Now, every moment is full of new meaning (a hand brushing your lower back, a glance that softens from across the room), and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t in slight disbelief sometimes.

It felt like he was in slight disbelief sometimes. You’re as surprised about receiving his affections as he seems to be giving them. Like he’s shocked to have tenderness pulled out of him like this, like it happens against all his better judgements. You happened, against all his better judgements.

And he wants to be good for you. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t mention it either, but you can tell. He’s more careful now. There are times you can see him struggle for the words, for the right action. And you want to be good for him, too. So you never push.

Even though there are times you really, really want to. Like now, kneeling on Tsukishima’s dorm room bed, waiting for you boyfriend –Your boyfriend. When will you get used to that?— to meet your eyes.

“Okay, what’s been going on? I feel like you’ve been off all week.”

The blond’s eyes flicker up from his phone, the glint of his glasses concealing and reflecting. “Nothing’s been going on.”

You narrow your eyes. “Your words say ‘nothing,’ but your tone and behaviour say ‘something.’”

Tsukishima’s lips press together. You used to think, in the early days of knowing him, it meant his displeasure, but now you know it means he’s trying not to smile. “I feel like you haven’t said a word to me in like, a week,” you say.

His brows raise, just a touch. “We were on the phone for an hour last night.”

“Not the point, mister.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, despite his flat voice. “It’s nothing.”

“So there is something,” you exclaim, pointing a finger at him.

He rolls his eyes, but the hidden beginnings of his smile break through. “I just said it was nothing.” He places his phone down, patting the slice of space beside him. “Are you going to come pick a movie, or what?”

You gnaw your lip, eyes roving over his face. “Is it me?” You ask, instead of moving. “Did I make you mad?”

A brief flit of confusion and then a line between his brows. “No,” he says. And then, “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

You stare at him, the keen lines of his beauty, his face that is somehow simultaneously so familiar and so impossible to read. It’s a strange thing, to be so comforted by him and so hesitant of him in the same breath. You thought being friends first would make everything simple, but a relationship has sharpened certain emotions. Made you sensitive and intuitive to things you might have previously shrugged off.

Slowly, you lay yourself down next to him, hands stuffing into the pockets of your sweater. You’re immediately shuffled around, Tsukishima’s large hands grabbing onto you, tucking you underneath his chin in a loose spoon. His fingers slip beneath your top, tracing delicate circles over your skin. “I’m warning you now,” you say, instead of answering his question. “I’m choosing a romance.” His laptop is half-hidden under his bed and you bend over and grab it, his hand slipping from your body.

“Of course you are.” Tsukishima’s voice is on the edge of amused, though a line still sits between his brows. He waits until you’ve clicked on a regency drama before placing his hand back on you. A soft pull of violin and piano burrs from the laptop speakers, and he blindly watches the camera pan over fogged greenery. You curl into yourself a little more, getting comfortable in his arms. “What is with you and period pieces?” He asks. He can feel your starry eyes taking in the movie without even seeing them.

“I’m sensing you’re about to tease me, and I reject it in advance.”

Tsukishima smirks into your hair. “I’m just saying this is the third time you’ve watched this with me.”

“It must be because I like pretentious people.” You reach behind to pat him on the arm. “That’s why I’m with y—ow!” You give a laughing little yelp when he pinches your waist. He smooths it over with delicate touches immediately after.

A few minutes pass as you both settle into the familiar patterns of the movie. You try to let the thought of his strange, distant behaviour from the past week slide. It’s true, there have still been long phone conversations and moments of new wondering sweetness. But you know him, and know him well. You can tell when his mind is preoccupied or distant, when he withdraws from you. You can see when his eyes linger on you, face indiscernible. And despite being in his arms now, with the easy banter between the two of you, you can just feel something’s up. There’s something he’s not saying, something he’s hiding. You know it. You can’t be this close with someone and not know it.

“Hey,” he says, squeezing you slightly. “Why would you think I was mad?”

“I dunno,” you say. You can see the barest traces of his expression reflected off the screen of his laptop, just his eyes, concerned, looking at you.

He tsks, reaching over you to tap the lower volume button.

“Hey,” you protest playfully, “it’s my favourite part.”

“It’s literally the beginning sequence. Nothing’s even happened yet—”

“Shhh, they’re about to meet.”

You’re avoiding his question. Tsukishima sighs but acquiesces, turning the volume up again. He can hear the whisper of you mouthing the lines of dialogue along with the actors and it makes him smile in earnest, from behind you. “You’re a dork,” he mumbles, affectionate.

“I might be a dork, but you’re a dork-lover, so whatever Kei.” Your words are casual, distracted as you watch the movie. You’re only half-aware of what you’re even saying. Despite this, Tsukishima tenses behind you. You almost don’t catch it, the shift in his body language. You almost let it go. But then you hear him huff and he turns away from you to lie on his back.

You hesitate, and then click pause.

Rolling over, you see Tsukishima with a hand rubbing at his eyes, glasses perched on his chest. He's frowning, frustrated and annoyed. Your brows pull together at his expression, his sudden change in mood.

“What’s up?” you ask, voice tentative. Tsukishima slings his arm over his eyes like a light is blinding him.

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” you sigh, sitting yourself up. That only seems to frustrate him further, which in turn frustrates you. You hate not being able to read him. “This is why I thought you were mad at me. You’ve been all over the place, Kei. One second you’re sweet, the next you’re clamming up. What’s going on?”

He lifts his arm from his face just enough to peer at you. “You think I’m mad right now?” It’s a genuine question that forces a baffled laugh from you.

“Uh, yeah? Or annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed,” he says, annoyed. You can’t tell if it’s directed at you or not. He sees your reaction and covers his eyes again, like he has a headache.

You’re skeptical. “Really?”

His voice is a mumble. “Am I that difficult to read?”

“Are you kidding me?” You give another little helpless laugh. “You’re being damn near impossible right now.” Your voice is equal parts exasperated and amused.

He drops his arm completely to his side, but before you can catch his eyes, he looks away. You watch his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth, his fingers absently grabbing at his shirt to wipe at his glasses. You give him a minute. You give him two. He doesn’t say anything, seems to be struggling for words which is so unlike him. You’ve only ever known Tsukishima to be quick-minded, always ready with the last word. He flickers his eyes to your face only to see that your gaze is already trained on him. He blinks, arrested by you, caught in you regarding him. His lips part, as if to speak.

Then he looks away again. You almost groan in frustration at his refusal to communicate but then you see it –the rare splotches of pink on the top of his cheekbones. He’s blushing. His hands are fidgeting, looking for something to do. He’s being shy, you think, in incredulous realization. He’s gone shy, looking at you. You stare at him with the beginnings of wonderment. You give him a slow smile.

“Shut up,” he murmurs. He’s struggling to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time. The tips of his ears are going red. Your frustration leaves you. Somewhere in your heart, you are beginning to understand.

“I didn’t say anything,” you counter softly. The more flustered he gets the wider your smile grows. “What’s wrong, Kei?” you ask. He shakes his head slightly, biting his bottom lip as though to keep words from spilling out.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s trying to be resolute.

Your brows flick up gently. “You’re really going to make me dig this hard every time you’re scared to say something?”

“No,” he says immediately and then frowns. “Maybe.”

You almost laugh. “God, you’re a baby sometimes.”

He lets out a breath through his nose. “I’m bad at this.” It’s hard for him to admit.

You’re gently amused. “Apparently. Who would’ve thought? Mr. Cool Calm and Collected, brough low by a measly girl.”

Tsukishima snorts, rolling his eyes, blush deepening. You think he’s about to tease you back, but when he looks to you again, you’re stricken by his solemnity. “But you’re not, are you?”

You tilt your head. “Not what?”

He gives you a tilted smile. “Just any girl, I mean.”

It’s your turn to grow flustered, but you refuse to let him distract you. “Oh, you’ve got lines, do you?”

He shrugs slightly. “I’ve got to have some, after all the romances you force me to watch.”

“You know, sometimes I think you should be a regency romance hero.”

“Oh?” He’s dry. “I’m flattered.”

You match his tone. “Because you absolutely refuse to be straightforward about your feelings.”

He goes quiet again, which ten minutes ago you would’ve thought was irritation but now you know to be shyness. He really does belong in Victorian England, you think to yourself, fighting a smile for your boyfriend’s sake. You can almost picture him as a surly bachelor, in a waistcoat and cravat, always with the clever quip –until it’s time for some honest emotion, that is. Those have always been your favourite characters, though, you admit to yourself. And the scenes where they say everything but what they mean to are the scenes you always look forward to the most.

You purse your lips together and take one of his hands. Despite himself, Tsukishima laces his fingers with yours instantly. “You know why I actually like regency romances so much?”

The blond raises a brow at your tangent. “Why’s that?” he asks, wary.

You give him a patient smile. “All the best scenes, when they’re trying to say something important or romantic? And they don’t have the words?” You squeeze his fingers. “They camera always zoom close to their hands, like their gestures explain everything they’re feeling. Everything they can’t say aloud, they say it with their hands.”

You watch his expression go from unimpressed, to wry, to hesitant. You bat your eyes expectantly, unlacing your hands to flip your palm up, resting it on his abdomen. His fingers circle around your wrist, keeping you close. “I see,” he says, trying to be indifferent.

You squint at him, unrelenting. “So, are you mad at me?” you ask again, with purpose.

Tsukishima sighs at the question, but you tap your knuckles against him, insistent. He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe himself, and then with his free hand, draws two letters from the English alphabet into your waiting palm. N-O.

“Okay,” you nod, thinking. “Are you upset about something?”

His mouth twists down. His index finger presses into you firmly. N-O.

Your brows furrow. You look at him, trying to discern his expression. “Are you scared?”

A pause. When he draws on you again, it’s slow and light. Y-E-S. His face is red again.

“Why are you scared?” you murmur.

Tsukishima shakes his head. “That’s too many letters.”

“Okay, fine.” You turn thoughtful. You think of how strange he’s been acting the past little while, his new shyness. You look at him now and see the flicker of openness in his face, just a moment of it. Moment enough for another piece of understanding to enter you. “Is it something to do with me?” You’re nervous, suddenly.

Tsukishima moves his finger. Y-E-S.

You fumble with your words for a moment, but you have to ask, “Is it…do you regret that we, uh…do you not want to—”

Tsukishima squeezes your wrist lightly, silencing you. When you look at him, he eyes are firm. “I could never regret anything between us,” he says. He’s so serious he’s stern. “Okay? So don’t even let your mind go there.” The look of relief in you softens him. He squeezes your wrist again. “And…” He breaks off, cursing lightly. “I’m sorry I’m shit at talking about my feelings sometimes. I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you, or hurt. I’m…I’m not mad. Not even close.”

Your words are quiet. “Then what is it, Kei?”

His eyes shutter again. You see his instincts kicking in, his long-standing habit of hiding his feelings beneath a veneer of indifference. You know it well, and for a moment you think you’re about to resign yourself to those habits of his. Some things just needed more time, you suppose. But then he sees your imploring eyes, your sweetly parted lips. You care so much and he hates, hates that he can’t say some things easily to you. But he needs to make you understand that it’s not because he cares less, not at all. The complete opposite in fact. It’s because he cares so much more than he wants to let on.

The thing –this feeling—that he’s been grappling with for the past while (longer than he would ever care to admit) comes rushing in, a force he never thought he would feel, not like this. To his own surprise, he’s trembling, just a little. Little enough to hide. He lets you see it though, his nerves, as he moves to sit up, glasses thumping onto his mattress. He grabs your hand again in both of his, gentle as can be. You grow still as he raises your hand to his lips, pressing featherlight kisses onto the tips of your fingers. Your eyes are wide. He always shocks you with affection when you least expect it.

And then, with ceremony, he brings your hand down to his lap and turns it palm-side up. His breathing is shallow, you can hear it. His eyes are trained on your fate lines. You feel your heart knocking against your chest so hard you’re sure Tsukishima can pick up on it. He brushes his fingers over your palm so faintly you break out into goosebumps. You catch his faint smile at this. And then, slowly so that you don’t miss a single letter, he begins to draw on your skin.

It’s three words, eight letters. You close your eyes to try to stave off tears but that only makes them fall. Tsukishima takes a long while to look up at you again, but when he does, he’s a completely open book, no pretense, no metaphor, no armour. He looks younger, vulnerable. He looks helpless, almost, at the feeling that’s taken hold of him now.

You close your hand slowly into a fist, like his words are somehow a physical thing and you can hold onto them and keep them close. He’s written his heart into the palm of your hand. You want to protect his heart, forever.

Slowly, you reach down for one of his nervous hands and you bring it into your lap. Tsukishima closes his eyes when you start to trace letters onto his electric skin, like he wants to remember the feel of them. When you’re done, he pulls you into a kiss that melts the afternoon into the evening, and then into the night.

I L-O-V-E Y-O-U T-O-O.

[babyboke]

...can i do another very self-indulgent thing with haikyuu boys or is that too much?

[babyboke]

beautiful mess | aone takanobu

 —in which aone will always love you, even if you are a beautiful mess

↳ pairing: aone takanobu x gender neutral! reader

↳ genre: fluff | angst | comfort | established relationship au | sfw | rated 13

↳ word count: 2.7k+ (can we even count this as a drabble anymore idk AHSHSH)

↳ warnings: insecurities of abandonment | insecurities of being unable to be loved 

↳ love letter: this is a request for @wow-life-love4​ !! omg i’m so sorry this ttok so long, especially since you requested this at a time where you were feeling down :(( i hope you’re feeling better these days don’t forget to take care of yourself and i’m so sorry for the delat!! but let me know what you think of this fic!! reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

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Aone Takanobu was never really good when it came to interacting with people.

They’d always find him intimidating— his tall stature that’d loom over them coupled with the naturally relaxed features that made him look as if he had a bone to pick with anyone who would come even a few feet near him didn’t seem to help his cause.

Especially because Aone was more introverted than the average human. He kept to himself most of the time, only ever speaking comfortably (but even that was a stretch) when he was amongst his peers. When talking to strangers, he’d limit himself to polite nods and bows, small grunts of acknowledgment as means of communication, so it was only natural for many to feel awkward and wary around him. 

But that didn’t mean that Aone didn’t try. 

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