MAB AND AKAASHI’S EASY MELODY
he'd always considered himself to be the creative—all smudged ink and lead over palms of his hands, messy hair from nights spent in warm lamp light curled over paper after paper.
and yet, looking around the apartment, it seems to be just as scattered with your own mind as it is his. instruments tucked into the corner of your room, sketchbooks and art supplies laying on your bedside table, your laptop half-open in front of the couch, an unedited draft still sitting on the screen.
and then there's the undeniable presence of you. akaashi could never contain you even if he wanted to—because even though you're out of sight, making something in the kitchen that he can't quite see, you're still humming a little tune that carries through the rest of your apartment.
he pads through the halls, feeling the chill of the november breeze drifitng into your little home. though once he gets to the kitchen, it's all warmth and playful smiles, the sound of your voice so much clearer now as you make something over the stove-top's fire.
and god, things are so much simpler with you here—calming and loving in the way that, no matter where he is, you know you'll be by his side and he'll be by yours.
and so he walks behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. you laugh out a sweet hello that only makes him press closer to you, burying his nose into your collar.
"mab," he murmurs into your skin, and when you don't respond, he tries again with a quick, "baby."
and now he's grabbed your attention, has you turning in his arms so you can look at him, your hands reaching up to his cheeks to trace the pads of your fingers across his skin.
"god," he breathes, as though his mind can't keep up with his tongue, "you're pretty, you know that?"
you laugh, lightly swatting at his chest before turning back to the stove.
"you only remind me every day," you reply, and he can hear the smile in your voice.
what he doesn't say, and what he won't say until much later, perhaps late at night, when he can hardly keep himself from saying the things that etch into his skull, is that he doesn't just mean in the way you look. no, akaashi keiji thinks you're pretty in the way you've painted yourself across his life, in the way you exist in his world in the easiest of ways, and in the way he knows you like he knows his own hands—ink and lead and all.
@etherealtobio ❤︎ mab!!! first can i just say that your music taste is so pretty i literally adore it <3333 i hope you like this!! ilysm and i just know akaashi would adore you <33 ANYWAY LOVE YOU BYE
