#yamaguchi fluff

[showhay]

yamaguchi tadashi x f!reader | fluff

cw: suggestive content, read at your own risk.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi means late-night study sessions in your shared apartment where the only light comes from his dual monitors and the soft glow of his keyboard. as a college senior finishing up his degree, he’s perpetually surrounded by circuit boards and half-finished coding projects, but he always makes sure there’s a spot on his desk cleared just for your coffee mug.

​;; boyfriend!yamaguchi is the type to get incredibly focused—brows furrowed, glasses sliding down his nose—only to completely melt the second you touch the back of his neck. he’s all professional and composed when he’s talking about his upcoming job at the electronics company, using big technical terms that make him look so grown-up, but the moment the door shuts and it’s just you two, he’s tucking his face into the crook of your neck and letting out a shaky sigh of relief.

​;; boyfriend!yamaguchi has this specific habit of letting you test things. he’ll bring home small gadgets or prototypes he’s working on and insist he needs your input, but really he just wants an excuse to sit behind you, his chest pressed to your back, as his long, steady fingers guide yours over the buttons. he’s so patient and gentle until you turn around to praise him, and then you see that familiar, pretty flush creeping up from his collar.

​;; boyfriend!yamaguchi is surprisingly bold in public—holding your hand firmly, pulling you closer by the waist to avoid a puddle—but the power dynamic pulls a complete u-turn the second you get him behind closed doors. he loves it when you take the lead. he’ll sink into the pillows, looking up at you with those wide, adoring eyes, his breath hitching every time your hands wander somewhere a little more daring. he’s a stuttering, beautiful mess under your touch, constantly whispering how much he belongs to you.

​;; boyfriend!yamaguchi definitely keeps a folder on his laptop labeled ‘boring schematics’ that is actually just hundreds of candid photos he’s taken of you while you’re not looking. he’s a bit of a nerd about capturing the ‘perfect lighting,’ which usually just means whenever the sun hits your face while you’re reading. if you ever catch him looking, he’ll try to play it cool, but his ears turn bright red, giving him away every single time.

​;; boyfriend!yamaguchi has already started looking at ‘employee plus one’ benefits for his new job next year. he won’t say it out loud yet because he doesn’t want to spook you, but he’s already mentally moved you into the ‘forever’ category. he shows his devotion in the way he kneels between your legs to massage your feet after a long day, or the way he lets out a needy, soft whine when you stop running your fingers through his hair.

​;; boyfriend!yamaguchi loves giving you ‘just because’ gifts. because he’s going into electronics, he’s always fixing your broken chargers or building you custom, aesthetic lamps for your bedside table. but his favorite thing to ‘fix’ is your mood; if you’re stressed, he’s immediately on the floor at your feet, resting his head on your lap and looking up at you like you’re the only person in the world who matters. he’s so soft, so eager to please, and so hopelessly yours.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi is the type to get all flustered and formal when he’s explaining his senior thesis, but the second you slide your hand up the inner thigh of his slacks under the dinner table, his voice cracks so hard he has to excuse himself. he’s all tall and lean now, looking every bit the professional electronics engineer in his button-downs, but he’s still the same boy who loses his breath when you take control.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi loves it when you use his desk chair for things other than studying. he’ll be sitting there, trying to focus on a circuit diagram, when you decide to crawl into his lap—not to cuddle, but to straddle him. he immediately goes weak, his hands hovering over your hips, terrified to touch but desperate for you to press closer. he likes the friction, the way you feel so heavy and right against him, and the way he has to tilt his head back and expose his throat to you just to keep breathing.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi is a “please” and “thank you” kind of guy, especially when he’s under you. he’s surprisingly vocal when you have him pinned to the mattress, his back arching off the sheets as he begs for you to keep going. he loves the feeling of your weight on top of him—it grounds him. he’ll grip the headboard until his knuckles are white, his eyes blown wide and glassy, completely undone by the way you look down at him with that specific, hungry expression.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi has a thing for your hands. maybe it’s because he works with his own so much, but seeing your fingers curled around him or pressed against his lips makes his brain short-circuit. he’s so submissive in the bedroom, folding himself however you want him, his long limbs tangling in the blankets as he lets out these soft, high-pitched sounds that he’d be mortified for anyone else to hear. he’s your personal project, and he loves it when you get touchy.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi is definitely prone to overstimulation, especially when you use that tone of voice that lets him know exactly who’s in charge. he’ll hide his face in the crook of his arm, his skin flushed a deep, feverish red from his chest up to his ears, trembling under your touch. he likes it when you’re a little demanding, when you tell him exactly what to do for you; the realization that he can make you feel good just by being your plaything is enough to make him lose his mind.

;; boyfriend!yamaguchi has a habit of leaving his webcam covered because he’s paranoid, but he has no problem letting you see every messy, unraveled inch of him in the dark. he’s the type to get teary-eyed when it’s too much, his eyelashes wet and clumping together as he whispers your name like a prayer. he’s so sensitive, so responsive to every flick of your tongue or scratch of your nails, and he’ll spend the rest of the night curled into your side, shaking and spent, thanking you for taking such good care of him.

n: my dear @lsirria, the tadashi freak

© showhay — don’t copy or translate without my permission. don’t feed my works to ai.

iloveu

[showhay]

observer

yamaguchi tadashi x tsukki’s sister!f!reader

tadashi treats love like a lifelong binding contract and tsukishima’s sister is the fine print he memorized. wc: 1.6k, request

the gym smells like floor polish, sweat, and the unmistakable ozone of teenage ambition—like someone tried to microwave hope and slightly burned it.

you’re perched on the stage steps with a clipboard you don’t technically need, ponytail slipping, legs swinging, very much a third year who has Seen Things™. the first years are running drills, tsukishima is scowling at someone’s footwork like it personally insulted his ancestors, and yamaguchi is—

well.

yamaguchi is looking at you like the sun personally clocked out so you could take over the shift.

it’s not subtle. it’s never subtle. it’s the kind of looking that has witnesses. the kind that could be diagrammed in a court of law.

you feel it before you see it, that warm prickling between your shoulder blades, and when you glance over, there he is. freckled, earnest, eyes bright like he just discovered a new religion and it’s you folding towels.

you wave, because you’re not rude. you smile, because you’re human and he’s sweet and it costs you nothing. yamaguchi’s entire soul leaves his body.

he trips over his own feet.

“yamaguchi!” tsukishima snaps. “focus.”

yamaguchi apologizes to the floor, the air, tsukishima, and possibly you in several dimensions. he rights himself, cheeks pink, and then—because fate is a comedian with a grudge—he looks back at you again.

this time, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, shoulders shaking. the clipboard becomes an excuse to cover your mouth. he sees that too, of course. his spine straightens like he’s just been knighted.

somewhere in the distance, crows caw. karasuno lives.

𓏵

being tsukishima kei’s older sister means a few things, culturally speaking.

one: you are immune to sarcasm. it washes over you like rain on a windshield. two: you learned early that affection comes in strange shapes, like insults disguised as concern and concern disguised as silence. three: everyone assumes you’re scary.

you’re not. you’re just tall, calm, and you don’t sugarcoat. it’s a curse. first years look at you like you might hand out pop quizzes on breathing wrong.

except yamaguchi.

yamaguchi looks at you like you hung the moon, labeled the stars, and personally approved the concept of summer break.

it started small.

he’d linger when you helped pack equipment, hovering like a polite ghost. he’d offer to carry things you were already holding, arms out, hopeful, like a very earnest coat rack. he’d listen when you talked—really listen, eyes on your face, nodding like every word was a sacred text.

you noticed. you’re not oblivious. you’re also not cruel.

so you smiled. you talked back. you asked him about his serves, about school, about that new pen he kept clicking like it owed him money.

he remembered everything.

everything.

𓏵

the first time it clicked—really clicked—was during a practice game. you were chatting with kiyoko near the wall, laughing about something mundane, and you felt it again. that sensation. you looked up.

yamaguchi was on the bench, towel around his neck, staring.

not angry. not jealous. just… intent. like he was counting your breaths, making sure they were steady.

when hinata leaned over and said something funny—probably a complaint about kageyama, knowing him—you laughed, nudged his shoulder.

yamaguchi’s fingers curled into the towel.

you blinked. tilted your head.

he smiled at you.

it was bright. it was sweet. but it did not reach his eyes.

later, he offered you a sports drink he hadn’t even opened yet. cold, condensation slicking the plastic.

“you looked thirsty,” he said.

you took it, thanked him, brushed his fingers by accident.

he didn’t wash that hand for the rest of the day.

𓏵

it escalates the way ivy does. quiet. determined. impossible to notice until it’s everywhere.

yamaguchi knows your schedule better than you do. not in a creepy way, you tell yourself. in a considerate way. he just happens to be around when you finish club meetings. he just happens to save you a seat. he just happens to have extra snacks you like.

“how did you know i like melon bread?” you ask one afternoon, accepting the warm package.

he shrugs, eyes soft. “you smiled more when you ate it last time.”

that’s… unsettling. also kind of adorable. also deeply flattering. your heart does a stupid little skip like it’s trying to impress someone.

you start waiting for him too.

after practice, you linger. you walk slower. you glance around corners.

when he jogs up, breathless, freckled grin wide, it feels like something clicking into place. like a chair sliding under you just as you sit.

tsukishima notices, of course. tsukishima always notices.

“you’re smiling,” he says flatly one night as you walk home.

“am i?” you ask.

he squints at you. “that’s not denial.”

you shrug. “don’t worry about it.”

he worries about it.

he worries about yamaguchi, who suddenly walks you home too. who carries your bag without asking. who stands between you and the street like he’s daring traffic to try something.

“he’s intense,” tsukishima mutters once, glasses glinting.

yamaguchi bows politely. “i just want her safe.”

you snort. “i’m not made of glass.”

yamaguchi hums. “i know. you’re stronger than most people.”

the way he says it makes your chest ache. like he sees something you don’t even know how to name.

tsukishima watches him like a scientist observing a new species. odd specimen..

𓏵

the confession does not happen under cherry blossoms or fireworks or any of the other rom-com lies.

it happens in the gym storage room.

you’re inventorying balls. yamaguchi is helping, passing them to you one by one, careful not to brush your hands too often, like restraint is a muscle he’s actively flexing.

it’s quiet. dust motes drift. the world feels small.

he clears his throat.

you look at him.

his eyes are dark, steady, shining with something that makes your pulse pick up like it’s late to class.

“i like you,” he says.

simple. honest.

you don’t laugh. you don’t deflect. you breathe.

“i know,” you say softly.

his shoulders sag with relief so intense it’s almost comical. like he’d been holding the roof up with his spine.

“i think about you all the time,” he continues, words tumbling now, careful but fervent. “when i practice. when i study. when tsukishima annoys me. i think about making you laugh. i think about… taking care of you.”

there it is. that edge. that intensity.

you step closer. close enough that you can see the tiny scar near his eyebrow. close enough that his breath stutters.

“yamaguchi,” you say, voice warm, grounding. “just so you know, i don’t need someone to own my life.”

he nods immediately. “i know. i don’t want to own it. i want to be part of it.”

your heart does that stupid thing again, like it’s trying to escape your ribcage and join his.

“i like you too,” you say.

the sound he makes is not dignified. it’s like a kettle boiling over. he clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, damp.

“really?” he whispers.

you laugh, gentle. “really.”

he asks if he can hold your hand like he’s requesting permission to touch a sacred artifact. you say yes. his fingers lace with yours like they’ve been rehearsing.

later, when you kiss him, it’s slow and reverent and so careful it nearly makes you cry. like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast.

𓏵

dating yamaguchi is like being adored by a very polite storm.

he opens doors. he remembers dates. he texts good morning and good night like a ritual. he watches you eat to make sure you’re enjoying it. he listens when you rant about exams and nods like he’s preparing for battle.

he also gets… focused.

a guy from another class flirts with you? yamaguchi smiles, sweet as sugar, and somehow ends up between you and the offender within minutes, conversation redirected, presence unmistakable.

you raise an eyebrow later.

“i trust you,” he says quickly. “i just don’t trust them to understand what they’re not entitled to.”

it’s intense. it’s a lot.

it’s also weirdly reassuring.

you talk about it. you always talk about it. boundaries, feelings, expectations. yamaguchi listens like your words are coordinates keeping him from drifting off course.

“tell me when i’m too much,” he says once, forehead pressed to yours.

you cup his cheek. “tell me when you’re scared.”

he exhales. “always.”

tsukishima pretends not to notice the way yamaguchi looks at you like a promise carved into bone. pretends not to notice the way you lean into him like you belong there.

he does, however, threaten yamaguchi with bodily harm exactly once.

yamaguchi thanks him for caring about you and says he understands.

tsukishima does not know what to do with that.

𓏵

the night you realize this is forever sneaks up on you.

you’re studying late in the gym stands, legs tucked under you, yamaguchi beside you, whispering mnemonics. tsukishima is across the aisle, pretending not to eavesdrop.

you yawn. yamaguchi drapes his jacket over your shoulders without breaking his sentence.

you look at him. really look.

the freckles. the earnest concentration. the way his knee presses into yours like an anchor.

he looks back, soft and unwavering.

in that moment, you feel it settle. deep. solid. like a root taking hold.

you squeeze his hand.

he squeezes back immediately, like he’d been waiting for the signal.

somewhere below, the gym lights hum. above, the rafters creak. life continues, ordinary and miraculous.

yamaguchi leans in and murmurs, “i love you,” like he’s been saying it forever.

you smile, heart full to bursting. “i love you too.”

and he couldn’t be happier.

n: i hope he’s not too ooc 😔

tadashi’s taglist

@lsirria @the-bloopsters @sleepykeijiii @averys-place @reverd-ck @sxnnee @anzuuhoshi @rabbitcola @katzline @asthmaticasma @meonelixir @xiansoria @pelicanpizza @x3nafix @michexoxo @depressinglyobsessed @keiob @mptality @qardasngan @crystal-lilac @methiart @wensurr @suha-reads @adagio4strings @sillylule @seravalanko @fiannee @forgottensniper @eri0-0 @olliesoxenfree @windsblow @starzlytoetsie @littlemissfix-itfic @kuroofangirl67 @bigdaddyyaoii @lilith-dear @applepiblog @thecranberrypineapple

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners !

iloveu

[showhay]

Hiiii Nique, it's me agaiiiin 😻🫶, am i bothering u?😔hope not. I loved your last Yamaguchi story so I was wondering if u could do another one where reader is Tsukishima's sister? Pleeeeease please please i love ur stories so muchhh 😻

OHOHOHO ONE OF THE YAMAGUCHI LOVERS 😈😈actually, i’m doing this one now, too!

will link it here!

[showhay]

something something yamaguchi PLEASEEE I LOVE HIM AND HIS FRECKLES😭😭😭

OHOHO I HAVE A YAMAGUCHI BIRTHDAY SPECIAL SOON (*｀▽´*)

i’ll link it here!

[kairismess]

Oh no no!! I was wondering something more on the fluffy and domestic side!! I really don't know what to request, but you know something where both yams and the reader are super shy (new jeans reference) and you know how yams gets so flustered JNHDJSNH HES SO LOVELYYYY <3333

But anyways! I hope it's not too much ! I'd love anything tbh tumblr doesnt appreciate this cinnamonroll 💔

-- love, yamaguchi anon! (can I be🤍 anon?)

it's nothing special. — yamaguchi tadashi x shy!reader

🏐 genre: fluff with a side of soggy fries ~

✒️ word count: 477

💭 summary: you and yamaguchi are both quite easily embarrassed, but for yamaguchi to hear you praise him about something he worked hard on? you've got him melting into a puddle for you.

🍥 author's note: AHHHH OFC MY LOVELY !! truessss, poor yams doesn't get that much content of him :(( I'D LOVE TO WRITE FOR HIM AND UR REQ !!

💭 yamaguchi tadashi knows how to crochet . . .

your eyes shone and your lips parted at the sight of the chubby little knitted frog seated on your desk with the dopiest grin on its face and the sweet little black bead eyes it had on its head. yamaguchi was a little nervous, you were staring at it for quite some time now. "so, u-um... is it any, uh..." "...it'd adorable, yamaguchi." you whispered, giggling under your breath. you gently squeezed its stomach, gasping a little at how soft its belly was. "i-it's so fluffy!" you exclaimed, very flustered, yet in awe at yamaguchi's prowess for crocheting.

yamaguchi's freckled face erupted into a blushing frenzy, a darling smile on his curved lips as he fidgeted with his fingers, those very same fingers that tirelessly worked on this little frog guy for you. "n-no way! i actually, um... i was actually worried it wouldn't be that good, but... i'm glad you like it." he gushed, his smile widening, his pearly whites showing, lighting up the whole room with his innocent sweetness radiating and warming up the space between you two. it made you a lot more shy now, seeing the boy you adored get all uneasy yet so happy to hear you praise him and his work.

you smiled, your eyes staring into his own that darted from every corner of the room, avoiding your gaze because he knows that if he looks into your eyes now... he might never recover from the sheer happiness and giddiness he'd get from looking into your beautiful eyes. "it's nothing special though..." "nonsense, tadashi. it's the most beautiful frog i've ever seen, and you're the most beautiful boy i've ever seen, s-so... there!" you exclaim, quite bashful at the lack of proper sense you think your statement had, but those words you uttered sent his heart into a thumping frenzy.

yamaguchi's face flared up, he looked like a bright, red, ripe tomato; he was smiling like a dork now, unable to take all the sweetness and affection you were giving him. and you, in your equally flustered daze, were also getting hot all over, unable to look him in the eye as you tried to stop yourself from grinning, squeezing the poor frog fellow in your palm, loving it and loving him even more.

you two hopeless shy romantics could only throw compliments back and forth as if you were in a volleyball rally, and honestly? this was just the way you two loved spending time with each other. nothing could ever compete his smile and your sweetness, you were both oh so perfect for each other, the little frog guy agrees as you both think of what to name it, your hands so close to each other's, your pinky fingers awkwardly brushing over the other's as you both try to keep the fluster away... and ultimately kept failing spectacularly.

[scarfwrites]

hii! I have a request (again lol), kageyama, kenma and yamaguchi x reader (separate), i have acne and i'm really insecure about it, i've been trying to find the right products but I have really sensitive skin, how would they help/comfort me? sorry if it's too much:)

Acne Comfort Headcanons w KAgeyama, Kenma and Yamaguchi 

❅Genre : Fluff, Crack, Comfort, slight angst

❅Pairings:  Kageyama x Reader

                     Kenma x Reader

                     Yamaguchi x Reader

❅Warnings:  none

❅ Summary : You wake up with a breakout of acne

❅A/N : SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO MAKE THIS I was busy with some life stuff. As someone who had acne and was insecure about it, it’s okay to have them! It’s part of growing up and they’ll disappear eventually. Even if you have acne it doesn’t make you less of a beautiful person :D 

Kageyama

I feel he wouldn't notice your insecurities more so what made you insecure right away, he’s pretty dense

It’s also something that he’d see nothing wrong with

Though he will notice your sad expressions everytime you look into the mirror

He’d assume it would be something about your looks

Once you do voice your concerns he makes sure he’s all ears

He might not be the best at comforting you but he tries his best! 

Assures you that you’re beautiful no matter what and nothing will ever change what he thinks of you

Everytime you’re sad he’d constantly reassure you with compliments

He’d definitely try to find any kind of solutions to fix it he can’t handle seeing your sad expression or you degrading yourself over your looks

“I’m sure it’ll all go away” Kageyama reassured you with a smile as you touch your face

“I know but… I don’t like seeing them they make me feel y'know…” you confessed as your frown gets bigger softening the blue haired setter’s expression

“Nothing’s ever gonna change the fact that I see you as the most beautiful person in the world, you’re still my amazing partner who cheers me on at my games!” Kageyama expressed joyfully as he pulled you in for a tight embrace

“Thank you…” you hugged him tightly trying not to tear up from his comfort

Kenma

Being as perceptive as he is compared to the other two he’d definitely find out from the first few signs

He’d continue observing your behaviour before he acts especially if you won’t wanna admit it

Gives you lots of words of reassurance and always makes you feel beautiful

He’d also shower you with more affection and comfort

Though if you still feel sad about it he’d try to help you take your mind off it with games specifically the comfy kinda ones like stardew valley or animal crossing

 Just like the other two if you really feel uncomfortable with you acne he’d help you with solutions to fixing it

“Looks like you beat me again” Kenma smiled as he put down his controller looking at you

“You totally did that on purpose” you smiled softly “A guy who spends all his time on volleyball and games can’t lose so easily”

“It’s no fun winning all the time” he responded as he saw you looking at yourself through the reflection of the tv screen. You notice his stare and quickly look away before speaking up “S-sorry”.

“Don’t be” he moves closer to you before holding your hand “I just want you to know you’re beautiful no matter what alright?”

“Thank you” you smiled softly as he smiled back “Why don’t we have another rematch”

Yamaguchi

Out of the three I feel he’d be the most empathetic

 He’d be the most understanding as being also insecure he probably experienced those kind off things

He might even see himself in you when you share how it’s been affecting you

Tries to comfort you the best he can! I think he’d even use his personal experience of being insecure to help you

Expect whenever you feel insecure about them he’d give you endless reassurance and compliments

Would definitely give you more affection to cheer you up

“I know how it feels…” he spoke softly as he embraced you “But don’t let it get to you, you’re beautiful no matter what! If I got through it, so can you!” He expressed happily, his joy infected you making you smile 

“Thank you Yams” you embraced him back tightly making the green haired boy’s heart swell as he smiled brightly “I really needed that”

“No prob” he replied “If it makes you feel better why don’t we go out for ice cream!” He suggested making you smile as you nod

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind that” 

[dira333]

Writer and Muse - Yamaguchi

warning: flowery writing, fluff

Being sick isn’t good for my body but my writing. I hope anyone can enjoy this. If not, call it a fever dream.

They say freckles are where the lover of your last life kissed you.

The boy in front of you must have lived so many lives, must have been loved so many times.

You want to count his freckles but there’s never enough time to look at him, never a chance to take it all in.

He hides behind his friend when you’re near or behind his hair when you’re in class.

His name is Yamaguchi Tadashi, you learn, but his face has already been burned into your mind.

That day you walk home and write a poem about him. 

The words drip from your fingertips like blood but your soul bleeds the same silver that the moon sheds at night. 

*

When your mind gives birth to an idea so beautiful that it makes your soul bleed silver, you want to feel it again.

And the next day, you see him smile. 

You almost miss it, how his lips curve and his eyes glint, the happiness giving his face a golden tint. 

But your mind has already caught on and you spend your lunch break with shaky hands as you pour an idea into the molds of your mind, not caring that the ink leaves blue streaks on your skin as you write and write and write.

When he smiles, you write, his skin lights up like gold in the sun and all we are is breathless at his beauty.

*

One year has 365 days. 

By the time you’ve written 365 stories and poems and pieces of words and imagination, you’ve managed to tell him your name.

“I like to write.” You tell him once when the teacher sends the two of you to retrieve a box of books. “When I look at you I get ideas.”

He blushes and you wonder if he’s heard the truth between the words. 

Would he still blush if you told him that you know what flying feels like when you look at him?

*

“Can I read some of it?” He asks once when you’re alone after class. 

There’s ink-smeared paper in front of you, the beginnings of a poem that tumbled out of you when he answered a question in class, and his voice made you think of a shy bear cub taking his first steps before gaining strength and taking the forest as his own.

“Yes.” You say and fear the worst.

He might look at the poem of past lovers and past lives and think you’re weird.

Or he might look at the story of the brave knight who found his calling and think it weird that the knight's eyes are as amber as his, as amber as the memory of forgotten trees.

*

There is no other way but forward.

You hand him 400 poems and pieces and stories on your last day of school.

Your hands are streaked blue with ink and his are red and bruised from volleyball training.

His friend is calling his name behind him and there’s no one calling you but the paper longing for words.

“If you don’t like it,” you press out, “You can just give it back to me and I will never write about you again. I promise.”

His eyes are big as you turn to leave and you wonder how they will look the next time you see him.

Will the amber be molten and warm or cold and hardened?

*

One day before school starts, there’s a boy on your doorstep.

His cheeks are red and his warm breath washes over you as you stand frozen in the door.

“Do you really think that about me?” He asks and offers you poem number fifty-three.

You don’t have to look down to remember what you thought that day.

That his hair looked like fairies had spun the secrets of the forest into it. That they had put their jewels into his eyes and hidden their treasure in his smile.

You nod, unable to speak.

His lips pull into a smile that makes his skin shine like gold. 

His freckles dance under warm eyes and remind you that he has been loved again and again.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you wonder how you’ve never noticed that his voice is as soft as clouds.

*

If you could write a letter to yourself, would you do it?

Would you tell yourself to look out for the boy with the freckles, the boy that had been kissed in all of his lifetimes? 

Would you tell yourself about the first book you published that contained the first drop of your love for him?

Would you tell yourself about the second button of his jacket or the first kiss in the rain or how your love for him and his love for you has proven to be like the ocean? You have yet to see the last wave kiss the shore, there’s always the next one rushing to be close.

Would you tell yourself of the future and rob yourself of the present?

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[beneathashadytree]

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI MASTERLIST

fluff: normal, angst: italics, smut: bold

Three’s a Crowd (hcs)