tsukishima who cherishes rituals. they give him peace and grounding him in an odd way.
so every night, following your shower which leaves steam pillowing out of your bathroom, kei sits on the end of the bed, watching as you wind through your night routine.
you grab your favorite lotion or body butter, hands working it into your legs, belly, breasts, arms, working your way up your body. kei watches quietly, ever entranced by the way your fingers spread and flex. once you’re done, you walk over to him, no longer leaning on his hands. those now lay lax in his lap. with a bit of the cream in your hand, you begin massaging his. thumb running over palm lines and boney knuckles. entwining your fingers with his, only to pull back, ensuing that each finger is cared for tenderly.
not only do you feel the tension leave his hand, you can see it escape his whole body. shoulders round following a deep, satisfied sigh. eyelids droop, but he remains focused on your hands. finished with one hand, you press a kiss against his curled fingers before gently replacing it with the other hand which waited in his lap. you begin the process once more.
oftentimes, no words are exchanged during this nightly routine. it’s not for the part of your brain that requires messages spoken aloud.
sometimes, when he’s anxious in the day before a game or an important work meeting, he’ll ask you to come see him. he won’t say much else— won’t ask for anything directly, but you can see in those golden brown eyes how much he appreciates you bringing him back to earth. back to you.
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