Akaashi Keiji X Reader - Tumblr Posts

date headcanons

eita semi, hajime iwaizumi, keiji akaashi and kiyoomi sakusa

eita semi

⭑ dates with semi are just vibing !!!

⭑ ideal date would probably be just to peruse around a record shop discus your fave albums and songs

⭑ coffee break after shopping and you’d take cute pictures with your sweet treats and your silly trinkets

⭑ i think peoples posts with their snacks and their sonny angels or calico critters or smiskis are so cute

⭑ he’d repost it on his story if you posted your date with your trinkets on insta !!!

⭑ song on story is from the album you bought too !!

⭑ n then you’d go home n listen to whatever album you bought at the record shop and just chat while holding hands and being silly <3

hajime iwaizumi

⭑ proud filo iwa believer !!!!!!!

⭑ he’d take you out to get filipino food !!! loves eating his childhood favorites with you <3

⭑ he’d let you eat the last piece of lumpia 🙏

⭑ i see him wanting to take a walk around a local park either in a comfortable silence as you just enjoy the others company or just mindlessly chatting about each others days

⭑ he makes sure you get home safe !! asks you to text him when you get home and then responds with how much fun he’s had today with you <3

keiji akaashi

⭑ bookstore frequenter !!!!!!

⭑ if you’re not a reader he gets it!! he’ll prolly ask if you find certain books interesting and get them and read them and let you know if he liked it

⭑ definitely reads out his favorite books to you if you’d allow it !!!!

⭑ per bookstore date tradition you always get coffee and a snack to fuel you for your walk around the bookstore !!!

⭑ very relaxing, feels like it’s just the two of you there, which it probably is but… what more could a man ask for !!? books, coffee and his lovely partner !!

kiyoomi sakusa

⭑ locking pinkies > hand holding

⭑ or at least it’s like that to sakusa !!

⭑ this would be like at least once a month type of date !!

⭑ you both wake up early enough for you to go the farmers market and pick yo stuff to make lunch or dinner together!!!

⭑ very domestic and cute <3

⭑ sakusa likes the farmers market because he likes knowing where his food comes from and supporting local businesses !!!

⭑ it’s okay if you can’t cook, he’ll help even if it turns into him doing most of the work, he’s making a meal with you and fits for the both of you !!! it’s made with love <3

⭑ short but i think it’s cute !!! i was struck with inspiration at practice and was madly typing at my phone during my water break !!

⭑ sorry for the inactivity!!! i will find a healthy balance soon i just needed to get into the groove of school and figure out when i have downtime to wire <3

⭑ might do a pt.2 of this just lmk who you want in it !!!

akaashi x reader - “better days”

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 546

notes: part two of my five part christmas special

theme: light in the dark

the light pitter-patter of the rain was music to your ears. it was around this time that you feel that christmas was coming. you stared in wonder as neighborhood children ran out of their homes with the most beautiful, carefree smiles while their parents watched from afar, half worried and half sharing the same joy of their children. from the distance, you could hear their laughter and the positivity was contagious.

akaashi looked up from his book as he heard your gleeful giggles. unable to bite back a smile, he gazed ever so fondly at your exuberant form. you were grinning from ear to ear, buzzing from excitement as you leaned impossibly closer to the window. this was happiness, akaashi noted as he felt the familiar butterflies and serenity you bring heat his core comfortably.

"'kashi? you're staring," he ignored your knowing smile and simply went back to his book with a smile mirroring your own. you bit back another giggle as you moved away from the window and closer to your husband who you somehow managed to convince to rest and share this moment with you.

his hands have always been pretty, you mused as you fiddled with it, now nuzzling comfortably into his chest. your eyes briefly caught the intricate words of poetry on the pages he held but it didn't quite hold your attention as it did with his. instead, your eyes landed on your neighbor's christmas display. stringed up lights lit the vicinity with a warm hue, a small statue of santa claus grinned jovially as a cute reindeer approached him. such little things were fascinating to you and you didn't know if it's because of the season or if it's your hormones but you felt a sudden twinge of hurt in your chest.

"you miss them," you jumped up slightly before you looked up to akaashi who was looking at you sympathetically. his hand that you were playing with was now settled on your knee as he traced cute little shapes on it.

you averted your gaze, blues reaching your eyes as you looked at your neighbor's house once more, "we used to decorate the house like that too. my nephews and nieces would drop by to celebrate the holidays with us and we'll play outside. they'd smile and god, akaashi, you should've seen them! they were the most adorable beings i have ever seen. so excited and free from all this."

"it must've been a sight," akaashi has long abandoned his book, choosing instead, to wrap his arms around your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck. you huffed as his hair tickled your skin but you enjoyed the proximity nonetheless, "hang in there. we'll meet them again, soon."

"yeah, we will," you smiled at the thought, raising a hand to play with dark locks, "when things are better, we'll see them again and all the wait would be worth it."

"all the wait would be worth it," he repeated as he rests a hand on your bulging stomach. the small gesture made you all fuzzy and warm and you found that your happiness came back threefold;

because you'll meet them soon, you just know it and by then, your baby would be here to share your joy.

His Diary

akaashi keiji x reader words; 10082 synopsis; For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

She decided that this was her new favorite book. It had all the right amounts of everything in it, drama, romance, depression, self-loathing. The journal she found was likely never written to be read. The journal he lost, the journal that Akaashi Keiji misplaced on a train going home from his editing job, he never expected to become a crux in his journey to love.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know it was a journal. It just seemed to be an episodic novel with a unique font, something along the vein of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. She only ever knew the leather-bound pages as a novel with no name. The author used a first-person perspective when writing and told the story of a young volleyball player who wanted desperately to find a passion, so he surrounded himself with others who had passion. What he seemed to enjoy more than playing the sport was writing though.

The author of the untitled book loved to read because the way he wrote made everything else she had read pale in comparison to the inky brilliance. He had captured teenager-dom with such sleight of hand that she believed his writing was made of magic and fairy dust. The story made her cry, made her groan, and made her feel second-hand embarrassment to an extreme she thought wasn’t possible.

When she read the first chapter, she realized she ought to pace her reading, because there were only so many entries. And she had no way of contacting or looking up the author, there was no information of who the author was on the back of the book. There was a Fukurodani Sticker, a school she remembers from her own time at a high school nearby, they were known for their volleyball skills and prowess, so she assumed maybe the author had some lived experience when it came to volleyball. Maybe that was a hobby aside from being a writer of such compelling stories.

She carried it everywhere from the day she picked it up on the floor of the train, it was always in her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She never left it alone, it had become a part of her. She felt like somehow this author reached into her heart and left fingerprints of his making into permanent fixtures of her anatomical structure. DATE: XX-XX-2013 TITLE: Alethiology; The Study of Truth

Today I realized that maybe I am all that I will be. My capacity has limits in comparison to others. A friend of a friend told me that their volleyball captain made a speech once, not to the whole team, just talking with buddies. His speech, or at least the parts I remember from it, was devastating. He said something like guys like Atsumu and all those geniuses, do things on a scale of 1-20, whereas normal guys like me do things on a scale of 1-10. Or maybe they have a denser more compact 1-10. And if 1-20 doesn’t work out, they try things from A to Z.

I’ve never thought of things like that. There’s always been a straightforward path for me, whereas, in comparison to Bokuto, he seems to have a much longer and more complex route ahead of him. Am I all that I will be? Is there a way for the normal guy to switch from 1-10 and try 1-20?

We have another game soon, maybe I can control more than I expect. Is flight into this world of geniuses possible? I can only control myself and my thoughts, but maybe there are external factors that contribute to my role on this team. My role in life as well.

Bokuto is asking for me, I need to go. Hope I can write again soon, but with all the games we’ll be playing I’m doubtful I can write with actual thoughts and not just tallies and plays from the games.

- A.K.

“I mean, who thinks of things like that Miwa?” She sits in the styling chair, getting a refresher on her hair. Miwa snips away lightly, inspecting each strand with duty and consideration for the entire look.

“Your author crush does.” Miwa brushes away some hair from Y/N’s shoulders, tidying up the apron wrapped around her.

She just rolls her eyes at Miwa’s comment. Flipping to the page in the book, tracing a finger over the deep black gel pen markings. Numbers and dashes and names of high schools against Fukurodani tell the story of the adventure at Tokyo’s national volleyball tournament from way back in 2013. She had barely started her second year of middle school in 2013, ripely being 14 years old.

Miwa and her sip some freshly made smoothies of Miwa’s creation, sitting at a table in the window of the entrance to the salon. Miwa bounces her foot that’s crossed over her leg and she pours over the entry once again. It was becoming addicting to choose one entry to re-read until she ingrained the stylistic choices into a deep long-term memory.

At that same moment, Bokuto Koutarou and his best friend Akaashi Keiji walk past Miwa’s Salon, attempting to plan a group hangout to celebrate Bokuto joining the MSBY Black Jackals team.

“I’ll need to make sure Konoha comes, and that he brings that cute friend of his for you,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly, and Akaashi shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Konoha is dating that cute girl he brings around.” Akaashi clarifies. Bokuto looks stunned, but then he remembers them making out on his couch during movie night that one time.

Akaashi looks around the street for a moment, peeking into the windows and observing the various occupants. When he sees his journal, the one that’s been missing for a little over a year, he just has to get it back.

When Akaashi pulls Bokuto into the hair salon, and barely below a scream says, “You stole my journal!” pointing at the girl who was indeed holding his journal from high school, Bokuto feels like his head was put through a blender. There were three very distinct things occurring at that moment. A pretty girl was shoving a book into her bag looking very defensive, Akaashi was trying to take the aforementioned girl’s bag from her, and a girl who he assumed was the pretty girl’s friend had a pair of scissors pointing at Bokuto by the throat.

Akaashi was still trying to pull the bag away, the pretty girl was looking extremely scared, and the scissors girl had opened and closed them one too many times for Bokuto’s comfort.

“Listen, I think we should all just take a moment to pause.” Bokuto held his hands up, shuffling to outturn his pockets in a show of lack of violent intentions. The black-haired girl puts the scissors back into her half apron that’s around her waist and then folds her arms.

Bokuto then pries Akaashi away from the pretty girl who was now clutching her bag against her chest and sniffling a little. Akaashi did feel bad that he made such a bad first impression, but he swore she had his journal. His embarrassing high school journal, the same journal that had cataloged many things he wished he never had recorded down on paper.

Bokuto pushes Akaashi’s head down, forcing him into a deep bow. Bokuto follows suit and also bows.

“I’m sorry for, uh, trying to steal your bag. But I think you may have a book, that isn’t a book at all, but rather my journal.” Akaashi is now sitting at the table in the window, Bokuto, the black-haired girl, and the pretty girl also sitting with him.

Outside the evening had quickly set in, with the orange and pink colors racing to get to the skyline. The blue began to fade into a deep dark navy color. And the lights on the streets began to flicker on. The lights on the outside of the salon began to twinkle from the setting they had been placed on, fairy lights luring those with a need for a haircut into the salon.

Bokuto had his head on his hand, staring intensely at the girl who had taken Akaashi’s journal, sighing slightly at the way her lips pouted and shined from her lip gloss. The girl with the scissors had brought out two more glasses of thick smoothie.

She pulled out the journal from her Doughnut Macaroon-style crossbody bag and slid it over to Akaashi. Akaashi flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing it as his. His face goes red and he readjusts his glasses, and she realizes that this must be his journal. He even goes straight to the back cover and smiles at the sticker she had grown to love to trace with her pinkie when reading.

“I’m not done with it yet, so, I really do hate to say this, but you can’t have it back until I finish it.” She takes the book back and tucks it into her bag again. Akaashi looks dumbfounded, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a line.

“You’re just going to keep private property? Even though you know it’s mine?” What a dauntless woman she was, to show what Akaashi considered to be audacity with the whole journal situation.

Bokuto chimes in at this point, “Akaashi, I think we should just let the pretty girl keep your little diary.” Bokuto then starts nodding his head up and down to try and get agreement from Akaashi. Akaashi scoffs.

“Okay, so it’s settled, my cutie of a best friend will keep the journal until she finishes it, we’ll get your numbers and she can contact y’all when she finishes the journal, and I get to cut both of y’all’s hair because honestly, it’s atrocious.” Leave it to Miwa to consolidate a plan in a matter of moments.

Miwa touched the spiky salt and pepper hair that Bokuto had, and Miwa’s expression turned sour when she felt the amount of gel on top of his head, then Miwa pulled out a photo of Yuki Ishikawa in a two-block cut and explained what color of black dye Miwa will use for Bokuto. For Akaashi, Miwa just did a trim and tidied up his sides to bring them slightly tighter into his face.

While annoyed, Akaashi does give her his number, along with his name, and Bokuto does the same with much more enthusiasm. After the haircuts are finished, Akaashi tries to pull Bokuto away from the salon, but Bokuto keeps doing the ‘call me later’ signal with his hand and blowing a kiss to her wistfully. She just waves to the both of them while Miwa giggles behind her dye-stained glove. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Meraki; Putting A Piece of Yourself Into Your Passion

I am the protagonist of the world. We lost but I am still alive, we lost but I loved the game. I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter if you are the best character, the most complex, or the most ‘genius’ of them all. It doesn’t matter because I am the protagonist. I can be the hero of my own story without ever having won first place in a big-name tournament.

Bokuto is graduating, and I’ll still be here, which is disappointing. He’s my best friend I think. Even if he’s the most annoying ass I’ve ever met, he’s still my best friend and I would never trade him for any other person in the entire world. Together we are the protagonists of the world.

Second place is just as accoladed as first place. If I wasn’t who I am, then maybe I would’ve gotten mad. The first-place winner is a rich school, they’ve been a powerhouse for decades at this point, and this win is just another notch on the belt. If I wasn’t who I am, especially after this tournament, maybe I would’ve gotten frustrated at myself for not doing enough. For not being a setter like Kageyama. Or a setter like Oikawa. That doesn’t matter though, I am a setter. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. But a human mind will always wonder why. And sometimes it's just because you’re unlucky.

Kenma told me about his loss to Karasuno, his sweaty hands made the ball slip in the final point. He laughed about it, he said that that was the best game of volleyball he’s ever played. When Kenma told Kuroo thanks for teaching him volleyball, I cried, but not as much as Kuroo did. They remind me of why I went to Fukurodani. I saw Bokuto’s passion for the sport. His passion encouraged mine, and look where we got to. We because the victors at the end of the war.

Mom made katsu chicken for dinner, I did some homework, and I had to put away my volleyball uniform for next year. I practiced in my backyard, alternating between overhead and underhand passes, seeing how long I could go without dropping the ball. Dad called me into the house for ice cream after thirty minutes elapsed.

I called Bokuto tonight before I went to bed. Told him that he’s my best friend and that I love volleyball. Bokuto agreed.

- A.K.

She was crying, and so she held the book out in front of her, resting it on her blanket. She finally had some faces to match with the words she was reading, and it all felt much too real. Bokuto did seem like the type of person to adopt and bring a person like Akaashi into his fold. But the way that Akaashi genuinely admired and appreciated his best friend was unparalleled and she felt like he would understand the exact way she felt about her best friend, Miwa.

Miwa and her met when she was fresh out of college. She hadn’t an idea of what to do in her life, while Miwa seemed to have her passion set out in front of her with her hair and makeup salon. When she got a haircut from Miwa and started ranting about her life, Miwa just told her to slow everything down. Take a gap year from life and just be a human. So, she picked up shifts at Miwa’s salon and moved in with her.

The best friends slowly became business partners as well, and an expansion to the salon was added, a small specialty bookshop that she ran, while Miwa continued to do hairstyling. Their customers were dedicated and loved to support their business. Branding remained solely under Miwa’s name, but she became everything else to the brand as well, the little addition that made the salon extra special.

When she started to cough a little from the way her heart was beating erratically from crying about Akaashi’s diary, she had to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Akaashi’s number was resting on her kitchen table. Miwa was watching some rom-com in the living room of their shared apartment. She brushed pasted the kitchen and sat next to Miwa.

“A good chapter?” Miwa threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s devastating. Who writes like they feel every emotion entirely?” She started crying again and Miwa laughed a little before rubbing her best friend’s back.

“You could always call him and tell him he’s a good writer if you need to talk about it. Sure it’s unconventional, but maybe he has more insights that you can cry to.” She grabbed a pillow and started hitting Miwa with it.

She did take Akaashi’s number into her room on her way back to bed though. Leaving the series of digits on her bedside table, she re-read the passage and cried again. She thinks she knows him better than most, but they aren’t even friends.

Since realizing he’s a person, and that Akaashi lived this story in the book. The story of his life recorded in his journal, she starts to wonder about what happened to him after he stopped writing in the diary. But she hasn’t finished the story yet, so she’ll have to see what happens next. Again, trying to pace herself, she puts the book away until tomorrow when she can read a little more.

Akaashi sits in his office, he’s still there and it’s much later than the clock would like to admit. The clock wondered if Akaashi would ever go home. But there he was, reviewing the different styles of manga serializations Udai Tenma wanted to try out for his next series. His haircut makes him feel a little colder because now the air can hit right behind his ear instead of being covered with his hair. He puts on a beanie to fight the chill.

When it gets too late at night, his mind tends to wander slightly. Just barely drifting out of his control, like the way a lily pad will drift to the center of a pond when the stem at the base of the connection is severed. He can’t dive into the pond to bring his thoughts back into his hands.

He thinks about her. The girl with his journal. The journal was a cheap 2,500 yen book, but he liked the paper, it was a cold press thicker GSM than most other paper forms. Gel inks went on smoothly to the paper, letting him get more words across by the second than if he was writing with a ballpoint. He remembers that from when he used to write in the journal in high school.

Throwing himself into the back of his seat, he rubs his face, his glasses almost falling off from how he runs his hands up from his chin to his forehead. Setting the glasses on his desk, he spins his chair a little. The clock screams at him, he takes the message from his dedicated clock and grabs his messenger bag.

On the train, he thinks about her again. Instead of getting irritated at how Bokuto essentially gave his journal away to a stranger again, he wonders what her thoughts are. Was his writing any good to warrant such a committed reader? Did she like his journal only because it was funny to read what his dramatic high school self wrote about?

He cringes thinking about all the potential things he wrote down. There’s no direct recollection of what he wrote down exactly, but he knows vaguely what was on his mind when he was writing. His ego, his insecurities, his favorite things. Lots about volleyball, Bokuto, and books. Once he wrote about his thoughts on sex, which is embarrassing for him that a grown woman is reading his teenage idealizations of intimacy.

It could be considered something unique to read. Akaashi settled into the belief that she was merely reading his journal because it was something different than typical books that were being published. Although, why she was reading his journal instead of a Haruki Murakami book was beyond him. Nothing beats his favorite literary giant.

Setting his bag on the coat hanger stand, and shrugging out of his long pea coat. He heats some stovetop ramen while listening to Bokuto talk over the phone, he was ranting about the same girl that Akaashi had had on his mind.

“Oh and those eyes of hers. Did you see them?” Of course, Akaashi saw them, they were big, bright, and astute. Akaashi hums in response, and Bokuto continues barreling through his late-night thoughts.

“I think we should invite her to my party. You know, the one to celebrate my big accomplishment.” In a different apartment, Bokuto spins a volleyball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it so he ends up just repeatedly tossing it into the air so he can satiate the desire to feel his fingers on the ball.

“Yeah, how about no.”

Bokuto asks why not, almost in a whining tone.

“Did you forget she has my journal still?” Akaashi put his bowl in the sink, putting on rubber gloves as he started to wash out the dish and then put it on the drying rack. He decided to finish all his dishes right now anyway since he still had the gloves on.

“Your diary can’t be that juicy, you didn’t do anything too dramatic in high school. Plus I know you wanna see her again too. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a piqued interest. Also, did I use piqued right?”

“You used it right, yes.”

He eventually agreed to let Bokuto invite her to the small get-together. Akaashi didn’t know why Bokuto kept referring to it as a party.

A week later, Akaashi realized that maybe Bokuto kept calling it a party because it had shifted from a friends-only gathering to a huge party at the park. Some other Fukurodani alumni helped to set up decorations in the central gazebo and make banners to hang all over the pavilion. Akaashi was mixing the punch at a table, while Konoha asked what he had been up to lately.

Kuroo and Kenma brought huge gifts for Bokuto, a PlayStation from Kenma, and a packet of potential sponsorship deals from Kuroo.

When she finally made her way to the pavilion with a small brown package, Akaashi couldn't care less about the party. She was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt with a tiered white and gold skirt, and her shoes were a pair of sneakers, but the whole outfit made Akaashi concede to Bokuto’s claim of her being “drool-worthy”. He had to remember that this was the same woman who had his diary. The whole conflict between physical attraction and mental frustration made for an entirely convoluted reaction to her presence.

She bows politely to Bokuto when he goes over to her, offering the gift with both hands, only then did Akaashi wonder how old she must have been. Bokuto had been talking to her more than him, and Bokuto had mentioned that she was a second-year middle schooler when Bokuto was in his third year. Akaashi did some mental math and realized that he, himself, must have been around three to four years older than her.

Akaashi forced himself to ignore the idea of a cute younger girlfriend that started to pester him in the back of his mind. He wanted his journal back, and that’s all this relationship was to him, a mutual exchange of her reading and then him eventually getting back his property. But with the way she had done her hair, Akaashi had a hard time focusing solely on wanting his diary returned.

She was glad that Bokuto appreciated the gift, she hadn’t known him longer than a week or so, and she had gone with a safe gift based on what she knew about him and why this party was even being thrown. She got him a wearable jump monitor that her dad had bought a month ago but never used, she was grateful for having a father who never threw things away. She also included some stickers that she had bought from a small sticker shop online, and some that she had made using Miwa’s craft supplies.

When the excitement of her being at the park died down, she made her way to a table, with a small plate of desserts. She observed how everyone interacted with each other, almost as if they had been friends since the dawn of time, and she believed that that very well might have been the case.

Akaashi stalked her from afar. He appreciated that she was similar to him in a way that mattered to him, she was a watcher. She would assess what was going on, who would talk to who, and how they would nonverbally communicate as well. He got so engrossed in watching her that he neglected to observe the others as well.

Specifically, Konoha, Washio, and Komi had grabbed a water cooler and had the full intention of dumping the water on Akaashi. It was payback for declining their invitations to various other parties from the last year. So there he was, not only soaked through with water but revealed from his vantage point unmistakably indicating to her that he must have been watching her. She laughed a little at the antics but then brought over a small cloth she had in her crossbody bag.

His white shirt was completely transparent, and his brown slacks had turned from a regular light brown into a dark musty brown. The only way to resolve the issue in her mind was to start dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief.

“I see that your friends have a peculiar method of exacting humor.” Her handkerchief eventually was too soaked through that she was just touching his chest with a cloth that had performed osmosis and was now at equilibrium with the water on his shirt.

“Yep.”

“Look, there’s a hoodie in my car, I know we aren’t too close, but it’s probably better to wear my oversized hoodie than to have your whole torso on display for the rest of the night.” She shoves her thumb in the direction of her car.

After making their way to her car, she digs through the trunk and pulls out a grey hoodie with the words ‘Miwa’s Salon’ embroidered on the back. He tugs at the back of his shirt to take it off and she widens her eyes before turning around. The hoodie is comfortable, with a soft fleece on the inside, and it smelt like lychee, vanilla, and surprisingly chocolate marshmallows. It smells like her and he wonders if he could have the scent bottled and then sprayed all over his house.

Suddenly he’s tugging at the collar of the hoodie and swallowing thickly, looking around at anything but her figure in front of him.

“We should probably get heading back to everyone now that you’ve changed.” She goes to start walking to the gazebo, but Akaashi’s words stop her.

“How well do you know me?” She tilted her head and said something about not following along with what he was saying, so he continued, “Well, you’re reading a part of me, you know with my journal, my internal thoughts and hopes and dreams and all that. So, how well do you know me?”

She timidly bites down on her bottom lip, formulating a response. But Akaashi surmises that she must not really care much for the conversation, so he, unfortunately, starts to run his mouth and the words just spiral out.

“You know, it doesn’t matter, to you, it’s just a story about a teenage boy who played volleyball. It’s silly to assume you’d try and actually-”

She cuts in, “I know you’re a considerate person. And it's not just about the volleyball stuff, it's about you, finding yourself to some degree. I know you are polite. I know you’re allergic to beating around the bush, you’re direct and blunt. I know that you can overthink too much.”

Akaashi repeatedly adjusted his glasses, and she stepped just a little bit closer to him, folding her hands behind her back and leaning in slightly so she didn’t have to talk as loudly.

“You also have a bad habit of thinking you can control more than you can, one of the interesting things in your journal is how you jump back and forth between knowing what you can control and then inflating from stress and thinking you can micromanage the entire world. You said you can control the court, but in reality, that’s your worldview. You conclude you can control the entire world sometimes.”

He regrets starting the conversation because this revelation of how much she knew about him exposes him. Akaashi didn’t know how to continue with the gap in knowledge between the two of them.

He only knew she was younger than him, she was incredibly perceptive, and she smelled so freaking good he just wanted to shove her into the backseat of her car and kiss her. Akaashi’s thoughts could not have been his own at this point, he was going crazy. He must have gotten sick from the cold water being dumped on him he speculates.

When they get back to the gazebo, Akaashi thanks Bokuto for the party and heads home. She stays at the party, talking to a select few people and wondering what exactly she said that scared Akaashi off so quickly.

Sitting in the tub, Akaashi rests his head against the shower wall and lets the hot water filter his congestion that didn’t exist. His hand twitched over to his phone, which was on the toilet seat playing some piano music that he hoped would alleviate all his bad habits. He wonders if she will text him soon. If she would text him ever. He felt like he was younger, it was ridiculous that one person would have such an effect on him to this degree.

After the party, she sits with Miwa, disclosing everything that happened at the party.

“And then he just ran off?” She nods at Miwa repeating what she just said. “Girlie, you gave him an in-depth review of his personality and you’re shocked that he ran away? Sometimes you can be too judicious for your own good.”

“Should I text him an apology?”

“Are you sorry for anything?” Miwa rolled her eyes, hating when she got like this. Miwa never allowed her to apologize for things that didn’t need to be apologized for.

“No.” She rubs her arm and chews the inside of her cheek.

“I think you think he’s hot, I mean, you understand this man on a deeper level that he now grasps, and you said he had the chest and torso of some kind of slutty librarian/gym rat agglomeration.” Miwa takes a bobby pin out of her hair and runs a hand through her bob cut, “If it was me, I would send him a picture of the journal and ask for nudes, or else the book gets it.”

She hits Miwa with a pillow, and Miwa realizes she really should throw the pillows away or else getting hit with them would be a very painful recurrence.

Miwa goes to sleep, but she stays up just a little later. Eyeing Akaashi’s number that lay painfully glaring at her. She decides to read more of his diary instead of texting him. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Weltschmerz; Sadness When The World Isn’t As It Should Be

Summer sucks. Bokuto has a training thing for some team he wants to be a part of in the future. All my friends that were third years are essentially gone, actually out and living life, and I’m stuck here. At least there’s only one more year left of high school. And then I can go and work for a literary magazine.

I miss people. Despite their failings, I do need people in my life.

You can only play so much volleyball in a day by yourself before your motivation is gone by the third week of playing alone.

It’s times like these that make me think about the future. I don’t spend much time with girls per se, but they are pretty and nice. Our manager is a girl, but she has a boyfriend. She’s chill.

Sometimes, when I feel like something is wrong, I turn to the idea of love. I’ll admit that I love a few things in life, but that’s only because I think love is something truly special that you can’t just fling around. I ‘like’ things more often than I ‘love’ them. Volleyball, my best friend, my family, books, and writing.

Will I know when I’ve found the love of my life? My parents said they knew they loved each other from the first moment they met. Will I feel like that too? Will I know it’s love? How can a feeling be recognized as a specific feeling? How do I know what anger feels like, besides that heat and pressure and red hot sun? How do I know what sadness feels like, besides water, coldness, and finishing a run? Would love have those distinct colors and associations? Or would love just become the person I love?

I don’t believe in soulmates. Definitely not. I think people are infinitely compatible, and it all depends on our ability to communicate and agree to grow with a person for the rest of our lives. I believe we make our own soulmates, through sharing experiences and agreeing to be ourselves no matter what. I told my mom this and she just smiled at me like I still had a lot of life left to live.

But don’t I have enough experience to know what I want? Or at least to formulate my own opinions and beliefs? I may be 17 but I am not an idiot.

Or did my mom’s look of a wistful future just mean that when I fall in love I’ll know it and I’ll look back to these words and think I’m completely ridiculous?

Dad made spaghetti for dinner. It was gross so we ended up having to order udon from the place I like instead.

We watched a movie Mom wanted to show me, the title was something like Wildly Wealthy Westerners or something. It was just about rich people from America and Canada, plus a subplot of romance between a basic guy and this rich heiress girl who just couldn’t be together because of rich people's reasons. It was silly but the music was good. The ending kiss scene was hot, he shoved her into the backseat of his jeep and I swear I heard Mom sigh.

- A.K.

She didn’t expect him to text her on Monday of the following week, asking if they could meet for tea at a place near his work during his lunch break. She surprised herself by agreeing to it, and then by cheekily calling it a date.

Akaashi shoved his phone into Udai’s face, “What does this mean?”

Udai pushed his bangs back and inspected the text messages on Akaashi’s phone. “I think it means she agreed to go on the date you asked her on?”

“But I didn’t ask her on a date?”

“Oh, but you definitely did. Oh and tea? What dork takes a girl for tea on a first date?” Udai pushed Akaashi’s phone away and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then Udai’s face breaks into a blinding grin, “Is this your little diary thief? And the one who gave you the sweater at Bo’s party? Oh, it is isn’t it, do you have a picture of her?”

Akaashi briefly flashed a photo Bokuto had taken with her in Udai’s direction.

“DAMN! I need me my own diary thief,” Udai raised his eyebrows and started laughing a little, and then he ruffled his hair and used his fingers to zoom into her face, slowly, he started moving down the picture to her body. Akaashi pulled his phone back before Udai got too far down.

The clock on Akaashi’s desk wanted him to leave for an early lunch and by an early lunch, an hour early. So there he sat at the small cafe on the corner by his office building, rubbing his sweaty hands against the legs of his pants, waiting for her. She was five minutes early and was surprised to see him already at a table, so she decided to have a little fun.

Since his back was turned, she went up to him and tapped his shoulder, when he turned around she let out a small “Boo!” and put her hands up into an imitation of claws, trying her best to seem scary. He just thought she was adorable. He motioned for her to sit down.

Resting her crossbody bag against the back of the chair, she took a seat. Akaashi was able to wave down a waiter, who gave them a single menu to look over.

“What kind of tea do you like?” She asked, using her pointer finger to scan through the options the cafe had available.

“I like black tea, and sometimes chamomile tea.” He asked her for her favorite type, and she told him. He tried to commit her favorite to memory as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they had their tea, and the silence started to set in. Between sips, Akaashi would try to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he thought it was all too bold. So he told her a little about his life, his work, and his friends and she did the same, returning statements in a unique fashion about her life. Her word choice was special, calculated even. She was like him in another way that mattered, a calculated, intentional way of speaking.

She could always make him yearn to be a little more considerate of his words. Until she managed to pry them out of him.

“So why am I here?” She stirs a little more sugar into her tea, then pauses from drinking her tea to take a sip of her water.

“I want one of your journals.”

She laughs before realizing he’s entirely serious, “How do you even know that I have any journals to lend to you? For all you know, I could be living a journal-less life.” She waves her small stirring spoon around, before putting it into her mouth.

“I can’t explain it, but I know you have journals. Only someone with a journal of their own would be so obsessed with another’s.” Akaashi takes the spoon from her mouth and uses it to stir some sugar into his tea. Her mouth gapes for a moment while he smirks, looking right into her intelligent eyes.

The next day they have tea again, and she gives him one of her journals from high school.

“Don’t read it all in one go.” She pauses, “I don’t write nearly as well as you do, so don’t scrutinize my words the way you do all your mangakas’ words.”

Akaashi nods.

He read it all in one night. He calls her in the middle of said night.

“Who the hell is this Ito kid? When did you and he start talking? Just outta nowhere he pops up at the end of your last entry. Where’s the careful recollection of all your interactions with him?” Akaashi is exasperated, running his hand through his hair. He disagreed with what she said about her writing.

She was compelling and interesting, and she most definitely had his heart. Her high school experience had been so different from his, and she seemed to be much more optimistic about life than he was. Despite her calling him a realist, he believed that in comparison to her, he was a total pessimist.

She explained to him about Ito, and that he was a short-lived crush she had had at the end of her second year in high school. Akaashi was glad when she said she didn’t even talk to him anymore. Based on the way she had written about him, Akaashi thought that Ito would be the love of her life, and Akaashi was slowly realizing maybe his heart was in the process of making her the love of his life.

“When do I get the next journal?” Akaashi wanted to keep talking to her despite the lateness of the hour.

“You don’t. I told you to pace yourself, I only have one of yours so you’re only getting one of mine.” She was lying on her stomach on her bed, slightly kicking her feet while talking to Akaashi.

Akaashi groans but tells her he’ll return the journal next week when he can have another long lunch break. She says she’ll be there.

Akaashi recalls when he remembered his diary was lost.

It had been a long day at work, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. His mom hadn’t remembered his apartment address, so she sent one of his old journals to his work office. He put it into his satchel and made his way home.

On the train, there had been a slight jostling. And Akaashi hadn’t noticed the journal falling out of his bag and under his seat.

When he exited the train, she had gotten onto it. She sat down in the same seat he had. Right when Akaashi started walking to the stairs to exit the station, she reached down under the seat to stow away her bag, only to be met with a rough material. And for a moment, if they had just turned around, their eyes would’ve met right as the train pulled away.

When he finally got home, he unpacked his bag, looking to put away his journal safely into a box with other memorabilia from high school. When he dumped his bag upside down, shaking everything out, he just couldn’t find his journal. When going home from work the next day, he had asked all the employees if they had seen a leatherbound notebook. None turned up.

If there ever was a moment that could’ve changed the future, that was what it would’ve been. If the train hadn’t jostled. If Akaashi Keiji hadn’t been tired from work and forgot to check for the journal on his way out of the station. If she hadn’t sat right where he had been sitting, and most definitely, if she didn’t love a good book, then it all would’ve turned out differently.

But that’s not the story that’s being told. The story being told is of Akaashi Keiji realizing that to love someone, you have to accept that they may know you better than you know yourself.

It had been six months, and she was close to finishing the journal. Somedays she didn’t read at all, others she read three entries and wanted to binge the rest of the diary.

They went for tea every single week. Sometimes twice. Then other times, he would take her around Tokyo to go exploring. They went to every museum, every library, every cafe that specialized in tea. He figured that they ought to be on an even playing field when it came to how well they knew each other, so instead of getting more journals from her, they traded lists of their top one hundred favorite books.

She had put three Haruki Murakami books on her list and Akaashi wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss her.

But they were just friends. Friends who knew each other better than Akaashi was comfortable with. She knew what he would order before he said it, and he knew what she was going to comment before she stated it. When she asked him about his experience with failure, he knew that she had gotten in too deep.

She knew more about him than he expected her to, she knew all about the silly things that rattled around in his brain, and although it had been a journal from high school, he knew that people stayed pretty similar throughout life. So when she looked at him, she didn’t just see professional editor Akaashi Keiji, she saw a teenager who wondered what place he had in the world as well. She saw him as acne-ridden and languid with life. He wanted to control her perspective of him and he couldn’t do that now, because she had the key to his past and the map of his future.

So he tried to put some space between them. Just in case. Maybe it was a horrible tendency to overthink, no, he knew it was his horrible overthinking tendency. There were so many ways their relationship could go. He could completely crush her, to be completely crushed himself in turn.

Walking the edge of a knife with her. Balancing on the blade of friendship, if he fell onto one side, with no cuts, then they could have a happy relationship. If he cut himself on that blade, then the worst-case scenario would be that she realizes she doesn’t like him back and then there’s just someone who knows him too well out in the world.

When he hadn’t texted her in four weeks and her messages were left on read, she decided to finish the journal and be done with it. Their time as friends was short-lived she thought. She thought there may have been something more for the pair of them. And suddenly all the depressing love songs became about him. Which made her resentful, because who ruins ‘Iris’ by The Goo Goo Dolls like that for someone? DATE: XX-XX-14 TITLE: Quatervois; A Crossroads

I graduated today. I went through that book of fancy words Mom gave me and stumbled across this one. Quatervois, a crossroads. Does this count as a crossroads?

The magazine I want to work for said I could have an internship while I attend college. An internship in the manga editing department. Was I not good enough for the literature department? Is it because of my age? I think my essay and grades were good enough to at least qualify me for a chance to interview in that department. But they only let me interview for the editing department.

Does that make me a career failure? I like the magazine, but I’m not sold on the department they want me to go into.

Washio called me to congratulate me, he said that I was finally crossing over into the real world. I’m pretty sure I’ve been living in the real world for as long as I’ve been alive, but Washio made it seem like things would be so different for me. I digress.

When nothing seems straightforward, and you come to a fork in the road and you have two options that you can’t see down, how do you choose which road to go down? The one lined with flowers, or the one with a dirt path that could eventually have something more alluring at the end.

- A.K.

On the penultimate page of the journal was a glued-down picture of Akaashi wearing his graduation suit, and holding his graduation scroll, his parents stood on either side of him grinning proudly at their only child. Maybe she should’ve checked the book from the last page and then started reading the front. But she didn’t want spoilers, that’s why she never checked the second to last page.

She texted Akaashi and said she finished the journal and was ready to return it. When he didn’t respond, but had read the message, she texted Bokuto asking for some clarification. She asked if Akaashi had said anything about her that would’ve indicated why he was mad. Bokuto just said that Akaashi wasn’t mad at all. So now she was confused. If he wasn’t upset, then why was he ignoring her?

Instead of going to their tea place, she goes to his office during lunch. She scans the buttons, looking for his department.

“Hey diary thief, whatcha doing here?” A shorter guy with shaggy black hair and a hoodie with a denim jacket over it comes around to her and presses the elevator button.

“Are you going to the Manga Editing Department?” She checked before entering the elevator with the shaggy-haired guy, who had introduced himself as Udai Tenma, but she could just call him Tenma. He confirms and then doubly checks her identity as the same person Akaashi had been talking about and spending all his lunch breaks with.

“It’s funny that you know about the journal, I came here to return it finally. Probably much to Akaashi’s delight.” She adjusts her bag across her shoulders, giving a short sigh.

“No, Akaashi loves that you have his journal. At first, he was a little annoyed, but now it’s kinda like you have a little piece of him all the time. I told him just to get you a necklace with his name on it, but noooooo Udai I can’t do that because I’d essentially be confessing if I did something like that.” Udai did a brilliant imitation of Akaashi, even going as far as to push his shoulders back to make him seem taller and with a broader build.

Udai turned slowly to face her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “Please pretend I don’t exist, I never said anything about Akaashi’s undying love,” He froze, “Also ignore what I just said.”

Udai got out of the elevator on the floor below the editing department. She could hear him start to criticize himself and say he owes Akaashi so many more favors and solids now.

She walked through the office, lightly admiring all the manga panels, all the stories that had come out of this building astounded her, it had been a while since she last read a manga, so she considered picking one up on her way out. Maybe she’d read the one written by Udai.

Then she sees him. Akaashi, with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. His head is moving slightly, due to the music playing through his headphones she assumes. He fidgets in his chair, wiggling the seat around. Despite being angry at him, he was still adorable when he was engrossed in his work.

“You’re being childish.” She handed Akaashi the journal. Akaashi had to take off his headphones when he saw that his journal was being thrust into his face, he dropped his pencil and turned around only to be met with her. Even though she seemed to be upset with him, she still looked beautiful.

Akaashi looked confused, so she clarified, “Ghosting? Really? You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends.” Her tone is sharp and penetrating.

It wasn’t the being friends part, it was the part where he wanted her to be entirely his. An overwhelming desire to attach her to him in all senses. He swallows and takes the journal back. He wants to ask what her thoughts were, and what she came to understand about him. Yet, he knew she was upset with him. He would be upset with her too if she did what he had done.

He had completely blown his chance, hadn’t he? The one woman who had read the teenage journal and still wanted to be friends. Maybe her knowing more about him wouldn’t be too bad at all, maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“I don’t want to be friends.” She starts to sniffle, she quickly runs the sleeve of her shirt onto her eyes. Akaashi rushed the next part out, “I can’t be just friends with you I’m afraid. I think I want more.”

She blinks rapidly before regaining composure and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to sort out your feelings. Because if you really wanted more, you wouldn’t have treated me like I was disposable. You wouldn’t have ignored me. So, figure it out, and let me know what the result is. You know where to find me.”

She rubs her thumb on his cheek in a parting gesture. He remembers when she did that for the first time, around three months ago. They were at a library he had found in a far corner of Tokyo, and he was talking about a book that Udai hadn’t understood at all, which made him irate that Udai could skim over such an important story. They were in their little section, with dim lights and a stack of books they wanted to talk about.

As he was waving his hands around, trying to show her the pages and lines he was referencing in the book, when she reached over and brushed her thumb against his cheek, the rest of her fingers resting along his jaw and lower cheek. Her palm barely contacts his chin.

“You had a little mark there. But I think it’s just a cute little freckle, it won’t wipe off.” She brushes against his skin again, and when the mark doesn’t disappear, she leans back into her chair, waiting for Akaashi to begin again. When he starts talking again about the book, he keeps stumbling and stuttering over his words.

She gave a small wave before leaving his office space. Akaashi's co-workers just turned their heads to watch her exit, heads sticking out of cubicles, and then in a blink, they all turned to face Akaashi with disappointed faces, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Then, they went back to work and Akaashi was sitting at his desk with his journal brazenly staring at him.

He had one chance to make it right. So he set aside Udai’s manga draft, knowing he could go through it in less than an hour, and he picked up his pencil, writing one more entry in his journal.

He can only wait a week before giving it to her when he shows up to her apartment unannounced. Miwa opens the door and rolls her eyes, but letting him in.

“I gotta run and get some new specialty scissors. I’m not afraid to use them in an unintended use if I get back and she’s crying.” Miwa motions her fingers from her eyes to his. Akaashi gives her a thumbs up.

When she comes out of her room, she inspects him on the couch, he’s holding his journal.

“Read the last page for me. It’s an extended edition.” He jokes somewhat. She sits next to him and reads his ‘extended edition’. DATE: XX-XX-XX TITLE: Micawber; An Eternal Optimist

I was stupid. Believe me, I know I was a whole idiot and a half.

Here’s to giving up realism and embracing optimism.

You knew who I was before I knew you. I was scared that you would know too much. That’s hilarious, right? I wanted you to know me, and yet there I was completely afraid to let you get too close, but you were already close. It’s not just what words were contained here, although I re-read my journal and there are definitely some things I should’ve self-censored.

You were what made the entire difference. Your ability to perceive me as a whole rather than a sum of my parts was the distinction that was made.

With you, I truly am a protagonist. Not a side character anymore, but the main character who shares the limelight with his love interest. Although, I have a distinct feeling that you may be more of a main character than me. But, I know you’d say you digress.

In your journal, you mentioned once how you believed that a good story can compel you to be changed. How characters drive a real tangible change in a person. Did I do that for you? At least a little bit? I know I was changed when I read your story, I realized that maybe I liked you a little more than just liking you.

Please don’t think I am mean. I was cruel, rude, and inconsiderate to you. Ghosting for more than a month because I was worried is likely going down in my personal history as the worst thing I’ve ever done to you. But I’m dedicated to never doing anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never lie.

I’m optimistic that you like me a little. Maybe even a little more than like.

So, tell me why I still feel worried. Is this feeling even worried? Or is this what love feels like? The desperation to not hurt you in any way. The pang of knowing that I am myself with you. And, yes, the physical magnetism that makes me feel just a little more like a teenager when I am with you.

I think this feeling is love. I just think it’s so overwhelming that I ended up making it into a negative emotion instead of what it is.

I’m sorry. Forgive me or I really won’t know what to do with all these feelings that flit around in my heart for you.

I love you.

- Yours, Akaashi Keiji

She knew he was watching her. She had her nose in his journal, reading what he had written for her.

“Can you get me a tissue?” Akaashi handed her one. He was ready to say his goodbyes.

When she closes the journal, he looks at her with curious eyes. She smiles.

“Best book ever.”

He grabs her by the back of her head and kisses her. She held his face in her hands, tilting her head slightly and he hummed into her mouth. His nose was cold on her face, but the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the frostiness. His other hand grips her hip, trying to pull her closer to him. Despite them being already so close, he wanted her to envelop him.

Then he was pressing her down onto her couch, both hands on her hips. When she wrapped a leg around his waist he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Her head was on the arm of the couch, and he had moved from her mouth to the side of her face to her neck, to right above her bra, leaving a trail of his making. He was glad she was wearing a low-cut top because it made it easier for him to pull the shirt down so he could reach more of her skin.

In contrast to him, she felt soft and pliable. She also felt wholly his in this moment.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling the strands in a mellow methodology, not wanting to hurt him almost. She wanted his hair just a little longer, but the short hair tickled her neck, so she was happy with the length it was currently.

The top of her chest was creamy and supple. He let his tongue brush out once, twice, before going back up to kiss her again. He licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth just enough for him to run his tongue into it for a moment, before biting at her bottom lip in thanks.

“You taste like sugar.” He was hot in the face and had some hair sticking to his forehead. She pushed his bangs back tenderly, his chest was still rapidly moving up and down trying to catch his breath. He went in for another kiss, still short of breath, so she had to intervene.

“Slow down loverboy, you need to breathe, or else you can’t keep going.” She laughs a little and he can feel the way her body carries the laugh from her chest to her stomach. She moves in close to his ear, “And that would be a zero-sum game for us both.”

He nods, and she draws his head down to rest on her chest.

“Is this better or worse than that fantasy you had about making out with a girl in the backseat of a car?” She recalls one of his entries from his journal.

He rubs his face against her, inhaling deeply. “This is way better. But we’re still gonna kiss in the back of my jeep, and soon at that.”

She hums a little in response.

The next year, Akaashi and her moved in together, Miwa was glad because now she could finally walk around her apartment without clothes on (despite her doing that when they were roommates anyway). Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi finally had someone to read his confusing books and that he didn’t have to read another one ever again. Udai would occasionally make a joke about if it didn’t work out with Akaashi she had a place in his awaiting arms. Akaashi threatened to work for another manga magazine and Udai would be stuck using only Grammarly. That usually shut Udai up pretty quickly.

They both kept detailed journals. And when they finished them, they would let the other read them. Akaashi let her read all his past journals as well, and she let him read her diaries.

Maybe love isn’t what you expected at first, maybe it's not even a feeling you want to feel at that moment, or for that person. But love works out for the best in the end. Whether that’s with a best friend, a lover, a child, or even a book.

For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

ok if you're like me then you're gonna love this bc it's headcanons for mine and akaashi's relationship if he was real

🥲

kinda suggestive/NSFW???

mostly crack and fluff

ANYWAYS YEY

-I would make him read all the popular books from booktok and he'd hate me for it

-he would cry about the song of Achilles secretly tho

-listen to me PICNICS

-I would read him poetry books bc im a sucker for those.

-I'd make him a thousand playlists y'all and he would slightly tease me for it but he'd appreciate it

-We all know that everyone's dream is to call akaashi a pretty boy,and I'm no different, I'd bombard that bitch with those two words

-I can be pretty vulgar especially when things don't go my way,I just KNOW akaashi would put his hand on my mouth to stop me from talking

-I may not seem like it but I'm pretty academically smart,the best in my year😭 actually (yeah I don't even know how that happened lol)so we'd have pretty ~~intellectual conversions

-I'd speak to him in my native language (greek) to tease him and bc that bitch studied some ancient greek in uni would point on his 🏃 and say"molon lave" which roughly translates to "come get it"

-I would never look him the same again.

-bookstore dates.

-one time when he took of my bra,crystals fell off of it

-I would put eyeliner on him and call him "pretty",he would give me kisses after that

-uses proper grammar even in texts

-has an old asf iPhone 7 and won't change it unless it breaks down or smth but it's in perfect condition and once I tried to smash it open(I would buy him a phone for his birthday which was 3 days away anyway) but before I could smack that shi on the floor he grabbed my hand

-Let's just say that I regretted it later😃✌️

-Yup couldn't sit for 3 days

-I bought him a new phone tho so it was worth it

-This man loves cuddles and ISNT embarased about it either.

-he would let me play with his hair while he reads a book

-he would talk about kids and instead of saying "if we have kids" he says "when we have kids"

-i would look at him like ???

-he would get defensive "only if you want to but I know that you like them so I took it for granted,I apologize if you're uncomfortable with that idea"

-I would be in TEARS "It's not that I don't want kids with you,it's that you really of our relationship going this far."

-He would just smile yk that SMILE of his bye I'm dead

that's it for now maybe I'll do a part 2 bc I'm a simp

09:05AM | AKAASHI KEIJI

PAIRING → akaashi keiji x gn!reader

A/N → just a small thingy before the big keiji works. ugh, i love him so much!

FEELING THE COLD FINGER pad slide over your skin, you keep your eyes close. Visualising the curves he’s drawing on your skin.

Letting the sleep slowly roll of your back as you make up the words. L, O, V, E. A small smile tucks up your lips at the sweet gesture.

He has said the words before, shown you he means what he says all the time. You met Akaashi years before you started dating. Honestly if you were to tell yourself then, that you would be dating him now; you would have called BS.

But many things have changed since then. Where somethings have stayed the same. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you press your lips against his fingers.

Feeling a soft kiss to your shoulder making a smile tuck at your lips, “Hey.” he whispers.

“Hey.”

Nuding his nose against your neck you can not help but truly feel loved. Which made you whisper your next words without a shred of fear, “I love you too Keiji.”

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST → @lovinnoya @suga-tofu @tanakasprayer @lonelyweeb77 @tanakasprayer @bakugoubiddies @kloudyisdepressed

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY | AKAASHI KEIJI

SUMMARY → your boyfriend wishes you happy mothers day... but you’re not a mother, or are you?

PAIRING → akaashi keiji x fem!reader

A/N → this took longer than expected bc i had no clue how to make this and was too embarrassed to send the script to my friends to do this with. ANYWAYS, happy late mothers day!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST → @lovinnoya @suga-tofu @tanakasimpcorner @lonelyweeb77 @tanakasprayer @bakugoubiddies @kloudyisdepressed

SHREK IS SHIT | AKAASHI KEIJI FT. KOZUME

SUMMARY → you use one of kozume’s tricks to get your boyfriend to finally watch shrek with you.

PAIRING → akaashi keiji x reader ft. kozume kenma

A/N → i don’t know what this is either... anyways

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST → @lovinnoya @suga-tofu @tanakasimpcorner @lonelyweeb77 @tanakasprayer @bakugoubiddies @kloudyisdepressed

Hi!!! I just saw your matchup event and i couldn’t resist the urge to participate >-<. I’m glad that I saw it, because I just scrolled past your masterlist and I saw some juicy content which i’m DEFINITELY gonna read later!!!

I wanna congratulate you for your 300 followers, i’m sure you really deserve them!! <33

Of course ignore this if it’s uncomfortable for you, no pressure!!

Okay so the fandom i’m gonna request from is Haikyuu!

I’m a scorpio, ISFP, 7w6, I really like photography and i’m studying cinema atm. My hobby is writing poems since i consider it the only way I can properly express my emotions; I also like to read, especially manga, and listen to music. I love to experiment hair colours hehe

I’m a stubborn person, with precise goals in life. I love creating new relationships but, the moment the other person shows me that they don’t really care about me, I’m gonna leave without looking back.

Im very loyal in friendships or relationships, and I love to listen to people. I’m very independent and I prefer to stay alone most of the times

I hope I described myself enough because I don’t really know what to say 🫠

Thank you in advance for your time and take care 🥺🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻

Fandom: Haikyuu

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: Spoiler from the manga (Akaashi's job)

Word Count: 0.6K

A/n: This one was tough lmao. Thank you so much honey! I'm glad that you enjoyed my work! feel free to send requests if you have anything on your mind :>💕

I match you with...

Keiji Akaashi!

I was actually doubtful about Choosing between Oikawa and Akaashi, but in the end I went with Akaashi cause you know... He's Akaashi :>

Akaashi is a super thoughtful and understanding person. He's kind, also indepentednt and charming as hell. He will never cross your boundaries and always gives you the space and time you need to yourself; though he will not hesitate to interfere when you have a serious problem and will do his best to make you feel better.

You do not have to worry about his feeling toward you. As I said before, he is a thoughtful guy, and he will definitely think it through before stepping in a relationship. If he's in a relationship with you, you have to know that he definitely loves you; or else he wouldn't be here.

He listens to other people (Bokuto) just like you and will do his best to make them feel better (we've witnessed that in the anime) so you have something to talk about when you open up to each other lol; because sometimes listening to people just takes so much energy, you know?...

Akaashi is also a supportive boyfriend. He shows interest in the major your studying (no matter what it is) and will gather information about it so he can have a better understanding of what you're interested into. He will be your model if you ask him to (ask him, this hot guy is definitely a good catch), I'm not sure if he will be willing to let you color his hair, but I'm sure you can both compromise on it or maybe even make a bargain...? <3

You like reading manga? Well lucky for you, your s/o is a manga editor! You can read all the manga's he edits before gettng published officially, so that's definitely a benefit to you🚶🏻‍♀️

Akaashi loves to be in a relationship with an independent person. He admires your independence. He's been taking care of people for quite a while, and he prefers to be with someone who's mature and is able to take care of himself.

He is a pro at reading your mood, and as the thoughtful boyfriend he is, he will give you the space you need. He might not even ask you about your problem directly, but he will ask you how you're feeling and if you need help with anything. So don't think that he doesn't care about you; he just doesn't want to bother you and trusts you because he knows you're able to do thing on your own.

This guy might look cold, but he has a big golden heart, and you don't have to look closely to notice it :)

In a relationship, he's actually warm caring person. Not the energetic type of boyfriend, but the smooth type of guy. He makes you feel relaxed and comfortable, you feel like you can open up to him about anything since he's not judgmental and Honestly it's hard not to fall in love with a guy who's always sweet and polite :>. So if you're looking for something comfy, peaceful and calm, he's definitely the guy for you.

Tries his best to keep a balance between his work and you. Even when he's been working for 5 hours, he will still take you to the restaurant he promised you only to see your beautiful smile.

Please don't let him overwork himself tho ಥ_ಥ

I think I should have matched you with Kuroo, but I don't know... 🚶🏻‍♀️

Thanks for participating in my event! :)

SECRET SANTA

akaashi x gn!reader | this is late but if u think about it it isn’t bc my own work secret santa forgot my present so i’ll be getting Mine late!

keiji’s only a little embarrassed that your secret santa wish list has become a suggested link on his laptop’s home page.

30 dollar maximum. no asking who other people got. have it ready for after the christmas weekend.

he figured it wouldn’t be that hard to find something for anyone—a wine glass set, a sweater, maybe a couple of books. but as soon as he drew your name on his phone, he turned it off and threw it onto the carpet in front of his bed.

because of course. of course it would be you: his months-long workplace crush. it became part of his routine to check if you updated your wish list for the first couple of days, and as soon as you did he threw his phone again. in the end he probably chose the hardest wish to find, sure, but he knew it’d be worth it.

walking into work, keiji held the carefully wrapped present with both hands. the office was chattier than usual, and he offered polite smiles on his way to your desk—a spot he’s had memorized since you first asked him to show you how to use the office printer. he spots you leaning against the wall with your friend. the both of you are laughing over something, and keiji can't tell if he's imagining things when a sun beam hits you perfectly; he wonders if it's making your smile brighter or if he just really likes you.

his pace falters at the sight and it's almost comical how he trips over air. cheeks flushed, he slows down and hopes you notice him a few feet away so he won't have to intrude.

the wish doesn’t take long to be fulfilled when your eyes flicker over to a new figure off to the side. he lifts his hand a little to wave and greets you softly, “hi.”

realizing it’s him, you grin. “oh, hi! just the guy i was waiting for.”

your friend says goodbye to the both of you, knowingly. but keiji doesn’t seem to register them as he blinks and furrows his brows at your words. “sorry?”

"i was waiting for you to walk by." you shuffle over to your desk and bend down to reach for something underneath. it doesn’t take a lot to figure out what’s going on, but he still holds his breath and stares. you weren’t the kind of person to pull a prank about secret santa, but what if for some god forsaken reason you did? or maybe he was imagining things and dreaming, running late to work because he hadn't actually woken up yet.

keiji's heart beats faster as you fix your outfit and stand back up, holding out a bag with a smile. “this is yours.”

the same smile falters when you don’t get a response, and it turns to shock when you look down at the box in keiji’s hands, your name carefully written in cursive on the top. “is that…” the both of you keep looking from each other to the presents before you finally ask, “did we get each other?”

keiji flounders for another second before laughing nervously. “i guess we did.”

“oh. oh! um, well, i hope you like it. it was on your wish list but i got the cover separately,” you explain as the both of you maneuver to exchange. inside his bag, keiji finds the sequel for his current favourite book series, as well as a crocheted book cover. it’s the same colour palette as the book cover, and he smiles at the heart placed on its center. there's a handmade card behind both and makes a mental note to read it later.

“oh my god, keiji. i’ve been wanting this for so long. how'd you kn—” he looks up from his present to see you react to your own, cutting yourself off when you realize what you were about to say. you look at each other and he can’t help himself from asking, “were you going to ask how i knew?”

“no?"

"are you sure?"

"stop.” you cover your face with your hands. peaking through your fingers, you can see the amusement on his face. “stop–don’t look at me like that. stop smiling,” you groan, face heating up.

keiji’s lips and voice waver. “i’m not smiling.”

“yes you are.” you laugh and hit his shoulder. he laughs with you, putting his hands up in surrender. "it was a lucky guess, that's all."

"god," you laugh breathily again. “seriously, though. thank you.”

“thank you, too. i’m excited to read it and the cover’s really pretty," he replies while fiddling with the little closing flap.

"i'm glad you like it. i don't really know the plot but y'know, if you wanna talk about it with me, i'm all ears."

keiji hesitates, and scratches the back of his ear. "i could lend you the first book if you wanted to read it?"

"oh." the offer shocks you a little. "really?"

"yeah, you can just, uh, ignore my notes and tabs and stuff." he thinks about the little comments and analyses he's left in the page margins, how you'd see his half-asleep, messily written "this is really important" that was never built on when he woke up. he cringes a little, but the opportunity's presented itself and he won't take it back.

you furrow your brows and tilt your head. "your—did you annotate it?" he nods.

"is it colour-coded and everything?" he nods again, bashfully this time.

"wow, okay, why would i ignore them?" you ask. at that, he blinks and can't muster a response.

"akaashi keiji if you don't give me a legend to what each colour means so i can fully understand your annotations i'm going to be so mad," you say with a joking frown. but the request is genuine and keiji's heart flutters as he laughs in disbelief. "i—yeah. yeah, okay, i'll make sure to put one in the cover then."

after that, there's a natural lull in the conversation and you take a breath. you go to speak again, and it's obvious you're probably going to say some sort of "see you later," and keiji panics.

"and, um," he starts. you startle but look at him, and he thinks he really might rather melt into the floor than face your rejection. he opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the words he’s wanted to ask for weeks, and he thinks he must look like an idiot. but your gaze only softens and you offer him a reassuring smile.. "i…sorry. but if you aren’t busy, would you like to join me for dinner later?

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtc @dimslover @kuroaka @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt

i didn't mean it.

synopsis: your boyfriend says something and makes you insecure.

characters: iwaizumi, akaashi x gn!reader

warnings: angst to fluff

note/s: reuploading my old haikyuu works so don't mind me!

iwaizumi:

you were on your way to iwaizumi’s house after oikawa texted you that he was being extra mean today. you held a box of pizza in one hand, as you texted oikawa back saying that you’ve gotten it under control.

once you got to his house, his mother opened the door with a relieved look on her face when she saw that it was you by the door. with a small goodluck. she sent you up to her son’s room.

you noticed that the hallway leading to your boyfriend’s room was messy. you sighed, knowing it was a result of him being fidgety. he couldn’t help it. and you can never blame him for that.

knocking twice on his room, you opened his door and saw him looking stressed by his desk. a few crumpled pieces of paper littered his floor as his head was between his hands, clenching his hair in frustration.

“haji?” you called out, noticing the rejected letter from one of the few universities he applied to.

he didn’t seem to hear you, having himself be lost in his thoughts. you closed the door quietly and set the food to the side. you carefully walked to where he was, not wanting to startle the stressed ravenette.

apparently, you weren’t careful enough as his head snapped when you accidentally stepped on a piece of plastic that you didn’t notice was there.

“what are you doing here?” his voice was straight up venom. the tone caught you off guard.

“oikawa texted me saying that you were in a bad mood.” you explained, taking a step closer to him in a means of wanting to comfort him.

“yeah well, i am. i think you should go for now.” iwaizumi said, not looking at you. you swallowed on nothing as you shook your head.

“i want to help, haji.” he scoffed. you knew it was all due to stress… or so you hoped.

“clearly you’re not helping around by staying here,” he retorted. your hands stilled by your sides.

“hajime, you know bottling up isn’t good for you.” you reasoned out. he rolled his eyes at you.

iwaizumi couldn’t help but ruffle his hair in irritation. he knew you had good intentions. you always did. but all he could think about right now is his stress and overthinking. all rational thoughts left the room by this point.

“bottling up is better than to talk with someone like you.” he didn’t mean that. or, that’s what you want to think.

“what’s that supposed to mean…?” your voice dropped. iwaizumi turned to face you.

“i mean, come on. you always want to know what’s going on with my life. you never let me breathe. i can think for myself. i don’t need you butting in with your irrelevant opinions. you keep talking as if your opinions matter to me.” his words came tumbling down, he couldn’t control it.

your eyes widened, something iwaizumi didn’t notice once more. too caught up in his rage to notice how you took in his words.

you never let me breathe.

you keep talking as if your opinions matter to me.

you nodded, keeping your emotions in check. iwaizumi finally stopped with his rambling.

“i understand, haji. i should go.” iwaizumi knew he should stop you, but he didn’t.

later that night, you received almost a ten page essay’s length of explanation and apologies. despite reading it and replying that it was okay, you couldn’t help but feel the hollowness in your chest as his words kept replaying in your head.

by the next few days, iwaizumi acted as if nothing happened and you did the same. your boyfriend, however, noticed that there was something off. he thought of it as the aftermath of the small outburst he accidentally let out on you.

it was by the second week that he noticed that you stopped arguing with him in terms of his choices, letting him wear that god-awful plaid pants oikawa bought him so they can match, letting him choose the movie even though he knew you didn’t like it.

the last straw was during your movie night. when he asked you if you wanted to eat chicken or pizza. he knew that it would trigger a response from you since you’ve always fought him in favor of chicken. it was a weird quarrel over the two of you that became a routine. so, when you gave him a shrug in response, he finally couldn’t let that go.

“what’s up with you?” iwaizumi asked as you were scrolling through your phone, staying unbothered. the time you spent on just agreeing with him made you used to just not giving his words a second thought and letting him lead the relationship. sure, you missed your old conversations but whenever you want to fight back, those words just keep circulating in your mind.

you knew it was due from his stress but you couldn’t help but feel like there has always been a root to his outburst.

“what?” you replied, still scrolling on your phone.

“is there something bothering you?” you shook your head, boring your eyes to the same video that looped in your instagram.

iwaizumi took your phone, forcing you to talk to him.

“give it back, haji.” you weren’t thrilled to be starting an argument, or a proper conversation with him.

“not until you tell me what’s wrong.” he said, you sighed and raised your hands in defeat.

“if you say there’s something wrong, then that’s on you. i can’t change what you think.”

“what are you talking about?”

“nothing.” iwaizumi was getting pretty fed up with the attitude you were showing him.

you knew it was petty, but you were too far to go back.

“(y/n)-” “let’s just watch the movie.” “fine.” iwaizumi gave up, sitting beside you.

“what do you want to watch?” he asked, turning to face you.

“you choose.” the television was turned off.

“what is wrong with you. you’ve been acting weird lately. first you stopped hanging around me and then you won’t even respond with your own decisions.” you sighed, not wanting to talk. in fear of accidentally breaking down.

“now you won’t even talk to me. what is wro-”

“god, you tell me i don’t give you room to breathe and my opinions are irrelevant and now you suddenly ask me what’s wrong.” you finally let out, tears pricking your eyes. iwaizumi’s eyes widened at your outburst.

you harshly wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, wanting nothing but to disappear so you don’t have to face him staring at you with confused expressions.

“what do you want from me?” you bitterly laughed. iwaizumi wanted to do something, so he did the first thing he thought of and pulled you to his chest.

you resisted, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. the both of you know that you were no match for iwaizumi’s strength as he pulled you even closer every time you try to move away.

“let me go.” your voice was muffled by his shirt. he held on tighter, wanting to erase those words he said.

“i’m sorry.”

“okay, now let me go.” he obliged a bit, letting you breathe as he pulled away from you slightly.

“i know you don’t want to hear my explanation. and i know you don’t want to hear a sap apology.” iwaizumi started, you nodded. willing yourself to listen to him right now.

he breathed in and out before he took a hold of your hands.

“i’m sorry for saying those words. i should have never said those things. especially when all you wanted to do was help.” you couldn’t help but notice how his voice got softer as he tightly gripped your hands.

“i was really stressed and i had no right taking it out on you. your opinions matter the most to me and you’re my breather whenever it gets hard to breathe.” you couldn’t help but snort at his cheesy words. he heard that sound and smiled a little, knowing you were loosening up and feeling a bit better.

“kind of corny, if you ask me, haji.” you said, he smiled at you before rolling his eyes playfully.

“whatever, loser.”

you leaned closer and pecked his cheek as a sign of acceptance on his apology. you knew that he was genuine. knowing that hajime has a hard time showing his feelings.

he smiled before turning on the television once more.

“okay, time to watch godzilla.” “no, we’re watching (fave show)-”

ah yes, this is how it should be.

akaashi:

nothing went right in practice. bokuto was far more uncooperative, his rotation team kept missing his sets, and the other team kept reading his sets.

akaashi knows that this type of thing happens. there will never be a guarantee that you will win a match in volleyball. he knew that, but he couldn't help but think that it was his fault.

the setter is the one who touches the ball the most. the one who leads the orchestra.

it didn’t help ease akaashi’s nerves that he was on the edge and has been on the edge since the past few practice matches.

“hey, akaashi! lighten up, buddy!” bokuto said, slapping akaashi’s back with force. he nodded, trying not to let his irritation show. he knew that the team is lowkey terrified when akaashi gets irritated. the last thing he wants is to drive tension between him and his team.

the rest of the practice went by smoothly, or in akaashi’s thoughts, in a very mediocre way. that ‘smooth’ is just the nice term for it.

“akaashi!” this was the worst possible timing. he didn’t want to see you. at least, not right now. especially when he’s in a bad mood. “darling, what are you doing here?”

“konoha texted me and said you weren’t feeling okay, that’s what i’m here for!” you smiled as you pulled him into a hug, not minding that he was a bit sweaty before you pulled away to talk to the managers in glee.

akaashi sighed and headed to the showers. he planned to just drop you off in your house and deal with this on his own.

but of course, you wouldn’t let him. he let you hold his hand and drag him around while the both of you were on the way home.

you were happily talking about the newest episode that just released. akaashi was mindlessly listening, he wasn’t ignoring you but he didn’t want to deal with you as of the moment.

“right, so anyway. then an unexpected twist came like it was so unexpected! i did have my suspicions though! so, it’s all good.” akaashi was getting distracted by his thoughts, not giving you a reply instead of a mindless nod.

“akaashi!” you said loudly, startling the stressed setter.

“will you shut up?” akaashi couldn’t bite back his tongue fast enough as those words tumbled out of his mouth.

you stilled, not knowing how to respond to the outburst. you did feel like you were talking a bit too much, but you didn’t know it was bothering akaashi.

“sorry.” after that, the walk home was tense. none of you knew what to say to each other.

it was when the both of you were at the doorstep when akaashi pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology while his face was buried in your hair. you nodded and pulled away before giving him a smile and pecking his cheek before you went inside.

you knew you were overreacting but his words kind of hurt. you thought back to the endless rambles that you let out on your boyfriend before slapping a palm on your forehead.

you idiot. of course he wouldn’t understand. no wonder he told you to shut up.

with a sigh, you went to your room and tried to ignore his words.

akaashi was the definition of silent but deadly. he knew that his words stung. that’s why he refrained from biting you with his words. but he wasn’t able to stop himself due to the stress of his training.

you figured that he’s finally gotten tired of your rambling about any topic that comes into your mind so you forced yourself to stay quiet.

your boyfriend, almost immediately noticed. he was a powerhouse’s starting setter. he’s supposed to be perceptive in regards to his surroundings.

so, when he noticed that you weren’t having your daily rambles the day after a new episode was released, he knew that you took his words into heart.

“how was the episode last night?” akaashi asked. you were lying down on the floor while you were scrolling down your phone, checking the latest fan theories that were produced due to last night's episode.

your head perked up, ready to rant about how beautifully executed the plot twist was before you remembered who you were talking to.

it was great! the animators brought justice to the manga panel that i was waiting to get animated! then the sound effects were just woah.

there were a lot of things you wanted to say, but you settled and smiled. “it was good.”

“ah, really?” akaashi asked, wanting you to delve into the topic better. you, on the other hand, said nothing and went back to fawning over how your co-fans connect the dots into the most ridiculous yet intriguing theories.

akaashi couldn’t help but see how your eyes shined as you smiled, rereading a certain fanfic with your favorite character on it. you slapped a hand over your mouth as you tried to stop yourself from squealing.

“what are you reading?” by this point, he knew how pathetic he sounds. akaashi was too caught up with his thoughts before that he later on realized that you were his greatest distraction from his self-loathing thoughts.

your voice filled up his ears, going straight to his mind and letting him feel the serotonin that you radiated as you ranted about your favorite series.

but now, it looked as if he was begging for your attention. you looked indifferent to akaashi’s attempt at a conversation, it was petty and you knew that.

“nothing, just a work my friend sent to me.” you said, trying to focus on the words of the selection. akaashi looked down and you thought he gave up. before you knew it, you were on his lap with his arms tight around your waist.

“akaa-”

“read to me, please?” he said, you stayed quiet. he tightened his arms around your waist, placing his forehead on your nape.

“please?” you slowly nodded your head and switched to an online book that akaashi recommended to you. you started off softly, not wanting to piss the setter off just like how you unknowingly did last time.

you finished reading a chapter before you told akaashi to let you go.

“i’m sorry, darling.” you smiled, knowing that he knew why you were quiet. he took a hold of your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb in soothing circular motions.

“i was stressed and my overthinking got the better of me. i didn’t mean to tell you to shut up. quite frankly, i miss your voice. i miss how you talk my ear off with your fictional crushes even though we both know i’m better-” you smacked his arm then laughed. he gave you a smile before continuing. “and i miss how your voice occupies my mind whenever i’m in too deep. i apologize for making you insecure.”

your heart fluttered at his words, akaashi has always been quite straightforward. so, with a smile, you pecked his cheek and nuzzled closer to him.

“i’m sorry for not noticing you weren’t in the mood.” your voice was muffled by his chest, you felt him shake his head and pull you against him tighter.

“nonsense, my darling. that's still not an excuse for me to do that to you. now, how about we watch the new episode last night? i didn’t get to watch it.” akaashi knew that you were excited as you nodded and pulled away, your eyes were shining in excitement as akaashi turned his laptop on and searched for the site.

the episode started, akaashi was asking questions to which you responded with enthusiasm making akaashi smile at your mood.

this was what he almost ruined, and he couldn’t dislike himself more. but when you cuddled closer to his side and intertwined your fingers together while keeping your eyes on the series and narrating the scenes he didn’t get. he vowed to never be the reason for your eyes to lose your shine.

after the episode, the two of you cuddled and just admired each other before one of you drifted to sleep, your grip on each other still tight as you succumbed into slumber.

CALLING THEM "DUDE"

gn!reader | oikawa, akaashi, suna, atsumu, aone

OIKAWA, predictably, lets his jaw drop and acts as if you’ve broken up with him. he teeters between draping his entire body over yours and whining, or crossing his arms and huffing while turning away. calling you dude feels foreign on his tongue, an insult to you, in tooru’s mind. but he’s nothing if not a little petty, and will call you it until you apologize.

“thanks, dude.”

tooru freezes, plate of cut up fruit in his right hand that mere moments ago, he pictured he’d be feeding you. but now—“dude?”

off the court, he’s nothing but predictable. you bait him with a smile. “yeah?”

“no! what- you called me dude! me?!” tooru holds his free hand to his chest.

“tooru—”

“oh, now i’m tooru? sorry, only the love of my life can call me that and be fed fruit from my personalized platter, bro i don’t know.”

AKAASHI cares a little—it feels kind of awkward and he finds himself overthinking the term. but once he’s comfortable, he can tell if it’s just something you say or if you’re messing with him, in which case he’ll have a knowing smile as he refers to you as his friend. but if he’s tired, he’ll drag out the bit just long enough to make you regret it.

“you okay, dude?” you ask as he finally comes out from the washroom, ready for bed.

keiji doesn’t respond, the pout on his face and his slow steps speaking for themselves. he climbs into bed, curling into your side and draping an arm over you.

his breath is warm against your collarbone. “no, dude. i think we need to stop capitalism. can i have a hug now?”

wrapping yourself around him, you place a kiss on his head, hair more ruffled than usual. “i’ll collapse capitalism for you.”

“you’re the best, dude. love you, dude.”

“keiji, please.”

SUNA doesn't really care. the times rintarou 'takes offense' are for a bit, and he sounds amused the entire time. if you don't care either, he'll call you “dude” himself and means nothing negative about it. this isn't to say he won't call you "baby" or "babe" or even "hon," but he—in his words—considers a large nickname vocabulary to be diverse and for the better.

"what the fuck are you talking about, dude?" you laugh.

rintarou rolls onto his back to look at you as you rest against the bed's headboard.

he squints at you and frowns—the look of disbelief on his face isn't at the term, but your reaction. "you're supposed to get me like no one else as the love of my life."

you raise an eyebrow. "maybe you should try making more sense?"

"i'm gonna 'dude-zone' you until you take that back."

"rin—"

"what, dude?"

ATSUMU instinctively responds as if you were osamu, not used to hearing the word in your voice. as soon as it clicks, he's as offended as you'd expect him to be. it becomes nonsensical bickering as soon as you act offended, until you're both laughing and ‘apologizing’ to each other.

“dude, where is my towel?”

“huh? i dunno, why would i touch your nasty ass towel?” he asks, eyes honed in on the game on his monitor.

you blink, and a moment passes before atsumu pauses and whips around. “wait, ‘dude’?”

his expression mirrors yours as laughter builds in your stomach. “what the hell did you just say to me?”

“y’just called me dude!”

“my nasty ass towel?”

atsumu’s own words finally hit him and he stutters, “babe- wait- i thought you were ’samu—”

“samu?!”

“wait—”

AONE’s gotten so used to you calling his first name, or using terms of endearment that he thinks he’s done something wrong. his anxiety doesn’t last long, not when you take a look at his hesitant expression and posture while he works up the courage to ask about it. he wishes it didn’t bother him so much, but he admits that he’d like having a special name, or just his first instead.

“hey, dude, can you pass me my charger?”

“...huh?”

“my charger? it’s next to the couch by your feet,” you explain.

takanobu’s brows furrow as he quietly picks it up and hands it to you. he wonders if he’s imagining things when you shoot him your regular smile and thank him.

a few minutes go by, and it’s nowhere near unusual for the both of you to sit quietly together, but he hasn’t sat comfortably since you asked for your charger. moving closer, you apologize and hold onto his arm. “’m kidding, ’nobu, just wanted to see your reaction.”

his body relaxes as the both of you lean into each other, and he smiles, albeit a little embarrassed. “that’s good to know.”

“...i like your nicknames for me more.”

my new tag list form if you'd like to be tagged! ^^ sorry old tag list. love u.

@dira333 i know u like aone.. i don't write for him a lot but He is here. thought of u. and @reverie-starlight u r of course my local tsumu fan. YAAAY!!!

   streetcorner ᵕ̈         akaashi keiji x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : a small accident throws    ⋮⋮  your usual morning routine off , just ⋮⋮  a bit . . .

📋 content      ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮      ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛      ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱       ♡ # 1.5𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧺 extensions  ⋮⋮ series masterlist ⋮⋮  next ⋮⋮

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ first writing post i ’ ve done in a while ! i ’ m hoping the concept comes off as cute as it did in my head ... ”    

a train rumbled overhead. the shadow it casted on the buildings around you had a continuous line of square windows that let the morning sunlight though. the rapid speed at which they moved on the concrete walls reminded you of a film strip. for such a brash pairing of sensations, it was quite a fond noise that accompanied everything else in the mornings. 

every morning for you has been the same, for what feels like forever. venturing a hand from the warm pocket of your wooly jacket, you tug at the scarf wrapped securely around your face to cheerily create a cloud of hot breath in the cold air. you then realize that in reality, it’s only been a few months you’ve been experiencing mornings like this. but the time that’s passed since you emptied out your last box of belongings has been eventful, after all. 

you’ve found a substantial job at a hole-in-the wall restaurant, of which the owners were extremely welcoming of you to your new city life. they were an old couple. they were definitely traditional, but still managed to be fun. you can’t think of a dull time at the restaurant since you were hired. they loved to play upbeat old-fashioned songs as you prepared to open up shop, and the elderly woman always invited you to sing along with a lively step that somehow outshone yours as a young individual. and overall, you found them quite adorable, too. they almost fawned over you, and were flustered with themselves at the most minute sign you felt out of place.

although it’s temporary, it’s definitely a job you want to keep for a while, you think. it’s location isn’t even very far. that’s why you usually opt to walk there. along the way, you’ve made it a habit to stop by the bakery just outside your apartment building. after taking a tray you either delve your tongs straight to the chocolate croissants, or––on the rare occurrence there’s none left––you settle for custard bread. after the cashier wraps up your order, you’re on your way. the brown paper is almost immediately ripped open once you exit the bakery, though. you try not to let the nice cashier see that part.

by the time your pastry has been reduced to nothing but a few mere crumbs, you’ve reached the drink machine. the drink machine humbly stands alone at the curb of a fork in the road and is lined with buttons that have always remained green, you assume it’s because you manage to catch it after it’s very early morning refill. it’s visibly quite old, some of its labels are almost entirely scratched off and there is bits of rust if you really pay any mind to it. but what makes it special, is that it’s one of those drink machines that offers cold and hot options for its beverages. 

it also conveniently has a trash bin sitting next to it. that’s where your brown bakery paper ends up. from there, you happily click one of the green buttons. the beverage isn’t always the same, but as long as it’ll get you energized, it’s what you’re sipping on for the rest of your walk to the restaurant.

you watch the brown paper for this morning lightly floating down into the virtually empty trashcan, the only thing on your mind being the push and pull of either drinking a latte or tea from the machine in front of you. your hands work without even thinking, taking out your subway card with your eyes focused on the cartoonish design you had picked for it months ago. you find it funny because you rarely use the train on daily basis. it still serves a purpose: paying for your morning fix.

your body works almost as if it were on some kind of autopilot. you swipe the card without even bothering to check if it registered. you replace the card to it’s rightful spot in your wallet before reaching out your hand. you’ve finally chosen what you’ll be drinking this morning: a warm latte.

the green button under the canned latte on display behind the plexiglass gives way to a satisfying click. but at that moment, someone else’s hand flies into you line of sight, pressing on the button immediately to the right–the cold latte.

you and the stranger jump back from the machine. comically enough the both of you are still blankly holding your wallets, and small puffs emerge from your open mouths in the cold air.

he’s quite tall, you have to tilt your head upwards to look at his surprised expression. he’s also got a heavy tan coat, fitting for the weather as of late and quite fashionable, you’d have to admit.

he’s also undoubtedly handsome.

his widened blueish-greyish eyes, framed by sophisticated-looking rectangle glasses, complement this handsome appearance very well, you think. 

but shortly enough, you both hear a metallic rattle coming from the machine’s insides. the two of you turn your heads to stare as the sound comes to an abrupt, and concerning, stop. anyone could tell you that it definitely didn’t sound good.

then, the stranger shoots down into a bow.

“i'm so sorry,” the man rushes in apology. soon, you almost break your back returning the bow. 

“no, no, i'm sorry, i should’ve been paying attention,” you insist, aggressively shaking your head.

“i was in a rush, i should’ve slowed down,” he blabbers before you decide to speak up again in response with something along the lines of how surely enough his reasons for rushing were completely valid unlike yours.

anyone could see where that conversation was going to end up.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

after exchanging numerous apologies on both sides, the two of you decided to ask a nearby shop owner for advice on what to do. entering a small clothing store, the lady at its desk was generous enough to call a service worker for the both of you. she, however, was not generous enough to let you two loiter in her radiator-heated shop.

you both remained near the machine, waiting for the worker to arrive. in the time that passed, you hadn’t even given the man next to you any thought. your mind was occupied with how to make up for being late to the owners of your workplace, and also yearning for the heated inside of the shop once again.

a white van with a friendly and inviting service design pulls up, and an incredibly old man makes his way out of the driver’s seat. 

“this drink machine is a very good one,” the man awkwardly comments, “it’s one of the few around here that have the hot drink option.”

“yeah,” you hum. you debate continuing the conversation––possibly commenting an ‘i find that special about this machine too!’ or really anything you could’ve mustered up. but an untimely pause already asserted itself in the time you’ve been thinking of what to say, so you almost give up. the worker is still digging around in the drink machine’s wires, you can hear the small clinks of metal because it’s so quiet. you’re both still standing there, awaiting the verdict of the machine’s condition when another train finally rumbles by, finally filling in the silence.

“it’s a shame we’ve broken it for the morning,” you quickly say after the thundering track noises fade away, side glancing him as you speak light-heartedly, trying to alleviate the awkward feeling between the two of you. to your relief, you can hear him crack a soft chuckle. you look to your side to see him smiling at you, nodding in agreement.

“yeah, a real shame.”

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the vending machine on the corner got fixed thanks to the incredibly old service man. you feared you would get fined because frankly, you don’t have all that much extra money to spend at the moment (and you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of a stranger who looked so refined and good-looking). but the old man, like your employers, was as much of a nice man as he was old. he even got you and the stranger your desired drinks from the machine’s inner supply before locking it back up again.

after the service worker hopped back into his van, you and the nice cold-latte-man bid your goodbyes and went your separate ways. 

upon your arrival at the restaurant, the old couple almost ran over you once you stepped foot in the door. you were bombarded with questions of “what happened?”, “did something happen to you?”, “are you alright dear?”.

a smile couldn’t help but spread on your face and you managed to take a sip of what last remained in the canned latte. you grabbed a hold of the old woman’s hand and spoke to the both of them, explaining your dilemma with the broken vending machine and the handsome stranger (yes, you informed them on the man’s appearance, and their not-so-subtle excited reactions made it all the worth it).

they finally let you go, satisfied and at ease knowing you didn’t get seriously hurt on your way to work. now being able to freely move, you go to grab your apron and start today’s work shift. but before you can forget, you toss the empty latte can into the trash bin behind the counter.

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  stickers ᵕ̈        boyfie!akaashi keiji x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : where does he   ⋮⋮  get them from ?

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 🥛     ♡ # 1.4k 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

akaashi always handwrites you notes on special occasions. the first one you had the pleasure to receive was for your one-month anniversary. you had seen his handwriting on the assignments you’ve worked on together or the exams he’s gotten back, but that was the first time you saw his written words dedicated to you.

you’d be lying if you said that first note didn’t make you tear up a little bit.

he always uses a black, fine tip ballpoint pen when he writes his notes to you. his handwriting is practiced and wispy—you can tell each stroke flows through to the next yet it’s not rushed, it’s careful. you know that because his words indenting ever so slightly through the paper they’re written on is evidence he’s a little heavy-handed as he translates his words to you through ink. it shows he really means those words you read off the page.

and another charming detail about your ever-growing collection of “keiji notes” is that they have stickers on them. small ones, blink-and-you’d-miss-it ones. in the margins, or in the corners, or even right by where he signs his name—laying claim to the inky confessions precededing it.

but for the life of you, you can never seem to find where he keeps them. the stickers, that is.

you’ve been together for a little over a year now—a year filled with many, many stickered notes—and yet you’ve never seen a single sticker sheet in his possession.

not in his bag…

nor his locker…

not in the drawers of his room’s desk…

nowhere!

and other than where he kept them, you had plenty of other questions. how many did he have? where’d he get them from? when did he get them? you spend so much time with him yet have never seen with your own eyes him buying them.

it was like a special mystery to you; something yet to be discovered in you and akaashi’s relationship that kept it fresh as long as it remained a secret. to preserve this little bit if whimsy, you never voiced out your curiosity. a silly part of you was convinced if you dared to even mention the stickers, next thing you’d know, they’d stop appearing in your precious notes from akaashi.

so you let it be. you accepted it without asking your questions—occasion after occasion, note after note…

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

that was until one day: a friday night in winter as soon as school got out for the week, when the two of you were at a local corner store, splurging on snacks for a cozy night in with akaashi at his house. you had lost him in the fluorescent-lit aisles in your excitement to assemble the ultimate date night feast for the two of you.

after you’re finished carefully selecting the ramens and drinks and chips you concluded would perfectly accompany the queue of movies you and akaashi had picked over the past week’s lunch breaks, you start to roam the aisles to reunite with him.

peeking over the mountain of cheap treats you have balanced in your arms, you finally spot him in the very corner of the store, intently looking over a section of an aisle, “keiji, i’m ready to check out now!”

hearing your voice, he quickly turns around and you catch a sheepish smile creep onto his face as he leaves what he was checking out to make his way over to you. he immediately starts gathering some of the food items you have piled up in front of your face in his own arms to help alleviate your load.

with each new small snack pack akaashi took on, you get a clearer view of which aisle the two of you were standing in—it was the stationary aisle.

you look further down to where your boyfriend just was. he was looking at the corner store’s sticker sheet selection.

so that's where he gets them from.

“you think we’re really going to finish all this?” akaashi’s voice snaps your attention back to him. now with his own arms holding up a dozen or so items, he starts heading toward the self-checkout.

without getting a moment to further think about catching your boyfriend red-handed (sticker-handed?), you start trailing close behind—pointing out something along the lines of how he always pays for your date night food expenses, and so he could simply ask you to return some of the items back onto the shelves if he was so concerned.

and as the items get scanned (beep… beep… beep!) and akaashi packs them into the provided ‘thanks for shopping with us!’ plastic bags (all for him to carry out the doors of the corner store himself, so that you don’t have to worry about lifting a single finger), he defends himself with something that sounds vaguely like, “you’re too cute for me to resist. that’s not my fault!”

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

you both make your way back to akaashi’s place under the street lights, alternating between periods where you can see each others faces lovingly looking at each other and small stretches of time where you have to rely on your voices to communicate that same emotion.

akaashi always had a way with words, written or otherwise. he’s quiet with his volleyball teammates or when he’s in class. with you, however, he makes sure your voices always mingle in his ears no matter what—always asking you to elaborate on things to hear your voice more or telling you about all the mundane things about his day that reminded him of you.

but while he thought he may have diverted your continuously flowing conversation away from the corner store sticker incident, he thought wrong.

“how many stickers do you have?” you quickly ask in a hushed voice as soon as your back-and-forth banter reached the smallest lull, beating akaashi to the punch with one of the questions that have been floating in your mind for so long.

“hm?” his voice perks up.

“stickers. like the ones on the notes you give me…” you trail off, as it feels weird acknowledging the childish touch to the heartfelt paragraphs you’ve been receiving for so long.

you’re both passing through between street lights, but you can almost hear akaashi’s smile grow in the dark as he asks, “you saw me in there looking at them?”

“yes!” now you’re in the light, and his smile is in fact there, making your heart skip a beat. but you push that thought away—he can’t charm his way out of this one—as you push him further, “now tell me! how many do you even have?”

“hm…” the rumble of his hum slices through the chilly night air as he thinks, “i have a few holiday ones, for when i write cards for the team—santa hats, birthday gifts, volleyballs, stuff like that."

“the stickers i get don't look like that,” you comment questioningly.

akaashi agrees with you with another calm hum, “yeah, well… i only really started buying the cuter stickers when– when i started going out with you, so—"

you feel your face warm up despite the cold breeze gliding past the two of you going down the street, “you still haven’t answered the question: how many?”

your boyfriend sighs and shakes his head lightly, “fine, let’s just say i have enough to keep making you notes for the rest of our lives. does that finally answer your question?”

very much delighted at his answer, the corner store bags clutched in akaashi’s hands rustled as you suddenly fling your arms around his shoulders once you reach the next street light.

akaashi lets out a huff at the sudden embrace but when he turns his head to face you, you can clearly see his smile hasn’t faded away one bit—just as content with the notion of his answer as you were.

“you really mean that?” you tease in a whisper, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

“of course i mean it,” he whispers back. he means it like he means every word he’s written to you on the page. he means it like every moment of every day he spends with you.

you lean in for a soft kiss, feeling your smiling lips against one another. akaashi’s hands are still occupied with the bags, so your arms hug him tighter and closer before you two finally pull away.

“where do you keep them?” still so close that your lips brush against akaashi’s as you speak, you try to question even further.

“oh, i can’t tell you that.”

“why?”

“can’t have you finding them and spoiling them for yourself. some of those will be for our wedding one day, after all.”

💭ˎˊ˗ " you find this recipe card tucked into a random shōnen manga magazine , stashed away amongst cookbooks on one of the kitchen shelves " ˚ ༘ 🐈 *｡𖦹⋆｡˚

streetcorner . . . ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᯓ★ a timeskip! akaashi keiji x gn reader series

꒰ some have said they've never felt lonelier than when they find themselves in a city, surrounded by thousands of lives happening simultaneously. but if you're busy enough, the skyscrapers can't catch up to you, right? wrong. that is, unless you stumble into someone one day–someone who might be able to keep the both of you from sinking away into the skyline. ꒱

details : long form, strangers to friends to lovers, pining!!!, slowburn, hurt comfort, angst, themes of isolation and loneliness, but then tooth rotting fluff to make up for it, cat ownership!, y/n's only other friends are their cute old couple employers lol, sort of found family if you squint, mentions of drinking, msby4 mentioned!!!, suggestive content down the line!

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ masterlist

– part one。

– part two。

– part three。

– part four。

– part five。

– part six。

– part seven。

– part eight。

– part nine。*

– part ten。( epilogue )

( * suggestive )

💭ˎˊ˗ " ingredients for this recipe : the smell of cleaning supplies while doing chores at dawn , the bittersweet taste mixed with a slight trace of aluminum as you drink canned coffee , hushed conversations under warm light , yearning ( lots of it !!! ) , a dash of that spark when you first feel the warmth of another ' s hand in cold winter air , some cat treats , finding solace amidst chasing blind ambitions ... - ro ♡ "

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist (1/30) : @cloudybillows (just send me an ask if you're interested! xx)

   streetcorner ᵕ̈         akaashi keiji x gn reader ( pt. three ) ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : maybe sometimes you    ⋮⋮  have to take " different " into your ⋮⋮  own hands . that way it ' ll feel much ⋮⋮  better , no ?

📋 content      ♡ # 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 🐄      ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛      ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱       ♡ # 3𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴     ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 +     𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 , 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧

🧺 extensions   prev  ⋮⋮  series masterlist  ⋮⋮  next ( coming soon ! )

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─  " y/n lowkey tweaking but can you really blame them ? "

you were wrong. “different” wound up being quite bad.

two weeks. two weeks.

you haven’t seen keiji— no, akaashi at the drink machine for two weeks.

14 days. 10 work day mornings. two weekends.

that first weekend went by, and you did your chores and errands with what you hate to admit was a little bit of "pep" in your step. because getting through your usual lineup of weekend responsibilities felt like they were leading up to something, knowing they counted down to a first-of-the-week workday—or more specifically a workday morning—spent with your new friend.

but then monday morning came, and you found that although the canned beverage you always get out of the street corner vending machine was warm, by your side at that machine was filled with nothing but the cold winter air.

‘he must’ve partied really hard this past weekend with those work friends. i’ll give him a bit if he’s running late,’ you so innocently thought.

10 minutes passed, and he still hadn’t shown up. not wanting to start off your week showing up late again, you decided to leave the street corner and head to work. you’ll probably see him the next day, anyway. one day without your little morning chat wasn’t going to be the end of the world...

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

tuesday.

you stuck around for 15 minutes. no sign of him or his tan coat or his glasses or those shiny professional-looking shoes.

'god, i hope he's not sick. it's all those cold lattes in this freezing weather. i warned him about that!"

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

wednesday.

the train passed. nothing.

ting! ting! ting!

nothing but the sound of you nervously pulling on the tab of your drink greeted you this morning. your drink was long gone by then, and so was your hope you'd see him again.

you tossed the can in the trash bin, pulled your scarf higher onto your face, and hid away from the waking city with your hands snug in your coat pockets–embarrassed you had gotten your hopes up so high.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

that thursday–yet another day where you faced a solitary morning–your frustration at the whole situation festered and bubbled over in the form of working overtime at the restaurant.

because walking home alone from a shift was one thing, but knowing the next morning you'd be met with the same solitude–when you had just had a taste of what it was like not dealing with loneliness picking away at you every day–made the whole journey back to your apartment that much worse than it ever was before.

you were on your hands and knees, scrubbing away at the hardwood floors until you saw your dejected reflection. you wiped the tables down until they were spotless. you made sure the kitchen was in pristine condition for the old man and woman to enjoy cooking in it the next day.

tick, tick, tick

the aged and rusted clock on the wall by the cash register mocked you as you continued brewing over your situation.

you definitely came off as a creep! bringing him food unwarranted? but he had bought you your drink in return? oh, and had given you that drink with the casual drop of his first name. as if you two were really friends!

but why? maybe he was just messing with you. maybe he sensed how much of a loner you kind of really are. maybe he would seriously opt to take the longer way to work just so he didn't have to deal with you in the mornings anymore.

was he even telling you the truth about his work? was "akaashi keiji" even his real name?

what drove you crazy the most was how easy it was for him to infiltrate your days for that short week, preventing them from droning on by simply showing up at a street corner on your way to work.

'how pathetic', you thought about yourself.

it wasn't until he came along that the reality of your sacred routine became apparent to you. you had been convincing yourself for weeks that it was fine but no, you guessed it was true–you felt alone in this city.

he effortlessly cracked the foundations of the motions you went through each day to stay sane, and what? then he just gets to disappear out of nowhere?

leaving you with nothing but... well, yourself. alone. again.

“different” wound up being quite bad, and painful, and lonely

but so did going back to "normal", apparently.

you sat at the counter of the restaurant, the clock in your hands still ticking away, but now you had cleaned it all up. it looked as good as new.

at least you had the old couple's reaction as something to look forward to the next morning.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

on friday you sat behind the register as you watched the customers come and go. in the small restaurant booths they sat across from each other–some couples here, some suit-and-tie-clad groups of office workers there, maybe the occasional group of friends still in their school uniforms.

you observed as they smiled at one another and laughed together. it was like each booth was its own bubble for the people to escape mundane reality with for even just one meal.

then they would come up to you, your time watching through a window over as your existence at the resister marked a snap back to reality for them. you–standing all by yourself amidst the rest of the lives that continued on in this city, as you took their money and counted out their change before they would leave and never give your existence a though ever again.

when that got to be enough for you, you even tried watching whatever sappy drama channel the old couple liked to keep playing on the old boxy television as it sat on a small shelf high up in the corner of the room. but that didn't really help either, the people on screen were also happily interacting with loved ones and friends.

the workday continued on like that until closing time, when the old couple decided to stick around for a bit, even as you attempted busying yourself with overtime tasks to avoid walking home.

they put on the restaurant's old karaoke machine, and you happily watched as they sang and danced together with the minimal movements that their age allowed them to enjoy on a friday night.

at one point, the old woman even urged you to stop spraying and wiping down the restaurant windows, and you sang and danced to a few songs along with them, too.

the walk home that night wasn't actually too bad–the scenes of you and the owners' little party replaying in your head as you walked down the street, softly smiling to yourself as you didn't even realize you had passed the drink machine on the street corner.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

saturday morning you wake up and stare up at your ceiling. you heard the sound of cars and trains pass by, and small city birds sing to yawning street cats just outside your window.

usually by now, you would be done grocery shopping and would be moving onto meal prepping for the week ahead. but your thoughts kept swirling around that stupid soft spoken guy, the one who always pressed the vending machine button for a cold latte in the middle of winter.

akaashi keiji. akaashi keiji.

before you knew it you were tapping away at your phone's keypad.

a-k-a-a-s-h-i...

you looked him up on every social media app you had downloaded on your phone.

k-e-i-j-i...

but damn, all the accounts you came across were either definitely not him or were privated.

you huffed and let your head sink back into your cool pillow. why were you still trying? you had to accept your one week of mornings with him was just some spontaneous and cruel string events the universe just tossed at you for its own amusement, one to come in and change the trajectory of how you felt about your whole life–that's all.

outside, you can hear the screech of a cat and the beating of bird wings, assumably after being scaring off by the cat. softly, you laugh to yourself picturing the scene in your mind.

then your thoughts drift to the stray cat that used to linger around your childhood home. it was grey and had a white belly. you and your friends would coddle it after school, or would give it a brief petting as you would stumble onto the back porch after a night out in-between semesters during university.

this was all before you moved away, that is.

god, you were homesick. but it wasn't like you could simply move back in the blink of an eye. you worked hard to get a place for yourself in the city. you've worked hard as you figured out what you want to do with your life. you just wish figuring it out wouldn't have to be so lonely.

but then, you thought of an idea.

you looked at your bank account to check the costs. it was definitely an expense you'd have to make up for, but that old couple was generous in that they always paid if you went overtime. more late nights meant you'd probably make back the money–and blow off even more steam–fairly quickly.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the next day, sunday, you decide to get a cat...

you recalled in your contract that your apartment allows it, so why not?

who needed a good-looking stranger to keep you company on a daily basis, anyway?

you set out on getting it the basics (treats, food bowl, a bed, a litter box, etc.) since you could always get more later depending on what your new feline friend might be like.

during that first half of the day, you drifted from store to store, picking out the perfectly humble items to greet your cat as soon as it arrived in its new home. your eyes always ended up glancing over any display rack of magazines you could find in the stores, maybe subconsciously searching for a certain combination of kanji on the covers' credits–but you never spotted it.

upon finally arriving at the pet store, the worker warmly greeted you at from the front desk and you asked if he could direct you to the cats. now you find yourself standing in front of a tall cat tree, a dozen or so cats of different colors and patterns jumping from one perch to another or adamantly scratching their claws at parts of the tree's fluffy material.

you didn't want an exact copy of the one from home, per say (it undoubtedly would've made you even more homesick), but then your eyes landed on one particular cat. it was a calico, and it was peacefully curled up a little ways away from the chaos of the cat tree. sunlight beamed through the pet shop's big front window and fell straight on the cat, making it and it's white, orange, brown, and black patches almost appear luminescent.

finding yourself crouching down to look at it closer, it sensed your new presence, and lazily opened one of its eyes amidst it's nap. you felt a familiar warmth stir up in your chest at how cute the calico was–a sensation you last had felt a long, long time ago.

"that one's a boy," you hear the worker pipe up behind you, seeing your interest, "he likes to keep to himself, so he's not a troublemaker or anything, either."

"i'd like to give him a home, then," the words fall from your lips as you stare directly into the glowing hazel iris of the calico's eye staring back at you.

once you and your new cat made it back to your apartment, you didn't even really food prep or finish the laundry for the week ahead like you probably should have. instead, you became enamored with just observing your new friend–one you hope wouldn't ditch you like the last one did.

smiling, you watched him as he sauntered around to survey the furnishings of your living space, you spent time with him as you gently ran your hands along his fur.

you thought to yourself as you grew fonder to the cat more and more by the second, 'you'll can keep me company in the mornings for now on.... or and at night when i get home from work... and even the weekends!" (something your last "new friend" would never have been able to do, anyway.)

it took a bit to decide on a name in your head, but finally you cooed at the calico as it hopped next to you on the couch where you were sitting, "it's you and i now, yamato!"

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the second week without akaashi, you purposefully avoided the drink machine. you figured out a different route (granted, the first time you tried it on monday, you were late to work because you got lost). subsequently, you kind of gave up on coffee for a while (granted, you felt a tad bit more tired on the day-to-day if you had to be honest).

but each morning instead of caffeine, you were met with the lovely presence of yamato sauntering around as you went about the apartment getting ready before heading out to work. thankfully what the pet shop owner said was tried and true: yamato never gave you any problems the first week he spent with you in your apartment.

you had to account for the chores you didn't get to on that weekend, when you were moping around and getting a cat. but again, yamato was there to keep you company as you were sweeping the floor around the couch, or leaning over to hang up laundry on your tiny balcony, or tossing together whatever you had in the fridge to constitute as small dinners for one to greet you on the nights you came back from long days at work.

busy, busy, busy is what you made yourself.

the old couple at the restaurant were a great help in this, as well. the months you've spent with them meant they grew more comfortable having you around, they'd always subtly complain about something breaking or in need of renovation, and of course you would offer to help to stay longer. (you always loved seeing the delight that radiated off of them when you would stay to help, and sometimes you would wonder if they ever had any kids or grandkids of your own. you never bothered to ask though, maybe that was a bit too personal.)

one particular day, however, was especially grueling. the restaurant got much busier than usual because of a festival that was being help nearby. one hungry festival-goer after the other popped into the small establishment–every seat would be taken up, dishes continuously were being served out, and there was barely any wiggle room to do it all because the customers opted to wait inside to dodge the cold weather outdoors.

your employers urged you to go home and rest as soon as it was all over, and though you'd usually find an excuse to work overtime for not just the pay anymore but to spend more time with the old man and woman, tonight you found yourself happily obliging to depart early.

a night spent watching tv with yamato curled in your lap didn't sound too bad, after all.

as you walk through the streets, you feel your eyelids physically giving up on you. your efforts of the past week trying to make your life work out in at least some way was finally catching up to you. but you thought of yamato, and how bad you felt he'd been left alone to his own devices at home on the long days you've been working late.

you owed it to your new furry friend to stay awake for that movie tonight.

caffeine. that should do the trick, you thought. but you didn't want to enter a 7/11. you always hated how the the lights would be too bright, and tonight they would probably give your waning brain a headache, when you just wanted a calm evening to yourself and your cat.

but the only other way of obtaining some form of liquid booster at an hour like this would be some kind of vending machine. there were none on your new route back from and to work, though. it was a fact that's been great in avoiding thinking about the events of two weeks ago, but not when you were actually craving your usual latte right now.

it was what, almost midnight? what harm could there be visiting that old warm-and-cold-option vending machine on the street corner near your apartment building, anyway? at least you wouldn't have to be seeing it in the daylight–a handful of remiss memories attached to a scene like that.

so you make some turns and you're nearing that exact spot. you rub your eyes in exhaustion as you round the corner, but as you look up, you see a figure already standing there, swiping their card at the machine.

the faint lights from the vending machine display illuminate the front of them, and you notice a pair of glasses blocked out by the display's light reflecting off of them. the light forming little shapes on the top of the person's shiny shoes. a tan coat.

"keiji?"

the figure, startled, turns to face you. you still can't really make out their face in the dimness of the street corner alley. they don't say anything for a moment.

you idiot, you think to yourself. part of you wants to book it, because there's no way that could be him–he has no business being here so late.

but the other part of you keeps your feet in place on the pavement. you feel it again, a small ounce of hope, that a friend has returned into your lonely little life.

"y/n?"

that voice. that's definitely him.

clunk!

you hear his drink tumble into the vending machine's slot, and the familiar sound brazenly fills the street. but the two of you don't flinch.

what was he doing back here?

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist (1/30 at time of publishing) : @cloudybillows (just send me an ask if you’re interested! xx)

This is so beautiful!!!😭💚

BETWEEN THE LINES

‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ FEATURING ꒱ : akaashi keiji

‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ WC ꒱ : 1.5k

‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : you and akaashi have been dating for awhile now, but he’s been hiding a secret.

a/n: this is for @mrs-kurooo for better, for worse collab !!! i’m sorry it’s late pls forgive me :) reposting this again bc tumblr keeps cutting out paragraphs ;(

After just a few weeks of knowing you, Akaashi had already planned on marrying you. It wasn’t something that had hit him in the moment, but looking back he realized he always knew.

When he had met you, it didn’t feel like there was a chase or a game. It was as if the two of you had simply collided; everything falling into place as it was meant to. All he had to do was calmly accept it, allowing himself to open his heart for you and trusting you to keep it safe. What was even better is that you were right there with him, constantly on the same page as one another.

Getting to know you was the most exciting thing Akaashi ever had the pleasure of doing. Everytime he found out something new about you or discovered a cute little fact; he’d tuck all of that in his heart, never letting himself forget it and holding it dearly.

With all he was learning about you, he wanted somewhere physical to display it too; something more tangible. Something that he could hold onto and to cherish -- maybe even one day to give it to you.

So the day he found out about your favorite book, he knew exactly what to do. He bought his own copy knowing yours was already filled with your own little annotations. He still wanted to give you his version from his perspective so you could see how he views you through the lenses of the lines he pours onto the page. Akaashi was never big on huge displays of affection, he often showed his love in more subtle ways.

Over the course of your relationship, he’s reread the book multiple times. The days he reread it on your anniversary, he’d use pink highlighter or red ink. On the days he reread it just because, he used yellow ink. And on days when the two of you were apart and he missed you, he used blue.

The book itself had begun to show its wear and tear. The spine slowly splitting throughout the years of opening and closing it, the pages creasing from all the things he’s written on it. And unfortunately the coffee stain on the cover page from that one time he wasn’t watching where he was placing his cup too early in the morning.

Even after all these years, he had managed to keep it a secret from you. The only one that ever stood between the two of you. Anytime you came too close to seeing him annotate the book, he shut it quickly and grabbed the nearest thing to busy himself with. And once the two of you had moved in together, it was nearly impossible to hide. He had to keep a spare by him at all times to cover his tracks.

He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to present it to you in the most romantic setting before he got down on one knee. The ring had been tucked in one of his old school jackets that hung in the back of his closet for far too long; but he wanted everything set in place before he made his final move.

But he didn’t figure you’d catch on. Not this early on a saturday morning while he sat at the kitchen counter, scribbling away little professions of love throughout the pages. How that one line reminded him of his adoration for you. And of course right as he took a big sip of his morning coffee is when you decided to make your presence known.

“What are you hiding there?” You ask him, popping a hand on your hip as you snuck up on him. Akaashi almost flew out of the chair, slamming down the coffee cup as the contents inside the cup jostled around. He reached out to close the book and tuck it closer to him.

“Nothing, I was just annotating.” He replies smoothly, as if you didn’t just scare the absolute shit out of him. His eyes trailed up to meet yours, the only layer of protection between your searching eyes and his was the glasses that sat on his face. He could tell that you weren’t fully buying into his story – not even close.

“Annotating what?” You peer over, trying to get a glimpse of whatever he was trying to cover up. Taking the newspaper that sat nearby, he quickly put it over the book.

“It’s a secret.” He smirked, standing up and softly caressing your face. The look on your face told him that he needed to try harder, the curve of your brow unsettled him and he knew this wasn’t something you were going to just drop. So he had to step it up. He cupped your cheek, pulling your face closer to his. “One that you’ll have to pry out of me.”

“Oh? Come here then.” You look up at him from under your lashes with a mischievous glint. He leans forward and catches your lips with his, pulling you into him. He pulled you up so you were sitting on the counter to get better access to you, slipping his body in between your legs. It didn’t take long for you to forget what you had previously been discussing, too lost in the sensation of Akaashi’s lips gliding over yours.

Needless to say, the distraction worked; but he knew his time was limited. He needed to plan something fast.

Akaashi had begged your best friend to take you out for the morning; going to the spa, doing some light shopping and most importantly, getting your nails done. All funded by him, of course. Your best friend knew exactly what he was planning so they eagerly agreed.

Meanwhile, Akaashi had work to do. He cleaned the entire apartment, picked out a nice outfit for himself, and started packing some things for the day he had planned.

A picnic in the park where the two of you had one of your first dates. It was a special spot. It was where he had kissed you for the first time. He texted your friend that he was setting up and you could be dropped off whenever.

Quickly and carefully setting everything up, Akaashi flipped through the book, the light weight of the ring sitting in his pocket. Everything was ready.

Akaashi expected to be nervous, or scared, or something similar to that effect. But he wasn’t. It felt like everything had come to this moment, the moment where he will ask to be yours forever.

“Keiji?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He shuffles up, tucking the book behind him as he fiddles with it. You bound up to him, kissing him along the cheek and throwing your arms around him. “You planned a picnic for us?

“Surprise.” He chucked, giving you a chaste kiss that had you wanting more. Excitement bubbled up in his stomach and he couldn’t wait another second. The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, threatening to blurt everything out. “You like it?”

“I love it.” You beam up at him. He helps you sit down before taking his place next to you. The spread was immaculate. All your favorite foods and drinks are neatly organized on a small board. You go to reach for the food but he gently places his arm on yours. Before you could ask him why, he states “I have something for you.”

He pulls out the book, thoroughly worn with all the love he’s poured into it over the years. He’s done his best to upkeep it, trying to fix the spine and straighten the pages. But it was still obvious that it had been read and worked on for a long time.

“Is this-?” You start, your eyes widening as your fingers glide over the rough cover.

“Your favorite book. I’ve been annotating it for you.” He suddenly feels a little bashful at the light that shone in your eyes, casting over him like a warm spotlight. “I’ve been working on it for a bit.”

You take a moment to flip through the pages, your fingers carefully gliding over the scribbles throughout it. You flip back to the first page.

“You dated it.” You say, slightly bewildered. “You’ve been working on this for 4 years? Only a few months after we started dating?” Your eyes snapped back up to him before they fell down to the box he was cradling in his hands. Tears rushed to your eyes, shocked and touched from everything that was happening.

“Y/N.” He started, gently reaching out to hold one of your hands. “I’ve loved you for so long, since the day we met honestly. It’s something that has held me together through all my darkest moments. It’s something that is, and always will be, forever constant: undying. I know I’m not always the best at expressing how I feel, but every word I’ve written in between the lines of your favorite book comes directly from my heart.” He takes a steadying breath as he watches your expression soften, tiny hearts practically filling your eyes as you take in each and every word. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life when he breathes out the question, “Will you marry me?”

Word count: 3.2k

Caregory: angst, smut

Warnings: depression, depressed reader, toxic relationships, someone needed to be an asshole in this so Tsukki is, kind of toxic Akaashi too, smoking, choking, cigarette burns.

Summary: Akaashi is always there to put you back together, granting your every wish. Even when you leave him without any message and disappear for two months. You could say that he has a soft spot for you

City of stars, are you shining just for him tonight? That’s what Akaashi is wondering. The stars are surprisingly bright tonight, as if knowing that now is when he needs their comfort the most.

Akaashi is mindlessly watching some stupid, mind-numbing late night program on his tv, trying to forget about the manga he has to finish editing until next week and… Other things.

The half-smoked mint cigarette hangs from his lips as the man lets out a sigh. He’s not anxious. Therapy and maturing has helped him calm his overthinking and anxieties a bit. He’s good at his job; he’ll manage to meet the deadline. However, other things cloud his mind and he’s not as good with that as he is at his job.

Akaashi’s phone, which was carelessly left somewhere in the kitchen, rings. He inhales the final breath of minty smoke and puts out the cigarette on the heart-shaped ashtray you had gifted him a long time ago. Akaashi finally stood up, lazily strolling to the kitchen, the light of his phone lighting up the big room in dim blue light. He picks it up and swipes "accept" without looking at the contact name. Probably Bokuto, wanting to hangout soon. Or maybe his boss, reminding about his deadline, or…

Keiji freezes on the spot when he hears your voice. It’s so quiet and weak that he thinks one breath from him will take it all away and he’ll wake up from a dream.

"’Kaashi… Keiji… Keiji, It’s bad again," you whisper and his heart breaks in real time; the pieces left from the last time you broke it, shattering into even smaller ones. Two months without seeing you. Two months without hearing from you. Two months without smelling your perfume, without touching your skin and hearing your voice. Your laugh… Well, he hasn’t heard that eternal sound for even longer. Two months, eight weeks, fifty six days, one thousand three hundred forty four hours since you had left him for another man.

Tsukishima Kei swept you away alongside Akaashi’s will to do anything but work until he almost passed out. You ghosted everyone from your life, it wasn’t only Akaashi. Last thing anyone heard about you — your friend Dina told Bokuto that you moved in with a "tall, blonde man". And now there you were again. Alive and calling him. Asking him to make everything better like he always used to. To come and take the pain away, even just for a minute. It hurt to breathe but just hearing your voice made the shards left of his heart pull closer together. Some selfish part of him wanted to hang up. To tell you to go find Tsukishima and fuck off. His rational part was horrified, that thoughts like that would cross his mind. He didn’t particularly dislike Tsukishima during high school days, damn, even liked the guy, but he couldn’t forgive him for doing this. For sweeping you away from him.

"You at your old place?" Keiji manages to ask.

"Y-yeah," there’s a sniffle and something clutters to the floor. Fuck, thag can’t be good.

"Okay, darling, okay. I’ll be at your place real soon, yeah? Unlock the door for me, ‘kay?

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He’s slipping his shoes on, grabbing his long, black coat and dashing out the door. His body remembers the routine way more than he thought it would. Maybe all those moments Akaashi rushed to you after a single phone call asking him to come, did that to a person.

He didn’t have the time to think that through. He was in his car, speeding through the busy streets of the city just to get to you. The hope of seeing your face again numbed most of the pain —the loss of you caused.

He’s at your door in what seems like a minute. The door is already unlocked so he just walks in. The smell of your home fills his senses and it’s as if his head clears. Oh, how he missed this. His coat is now hung up, shoes put away and he’s stepping in the tiny living room. There’s a lump of colorful blankets and you’re somewhere underneath. A step away. Real and alive. Real, alive and breathing — wanting him to put you back together. To make you feel better, to make you feel like you’re alive once again.

“Y/N, darling, I’m here,” the words come out in the softest voice he can manage and your head lifts up. Your hair’s a mess, eyes empty and dull. He can’t stand to see you like this, pain searing through his whole body. Some fucked up part of him is glad to see how much you need him though.

“Keiji, need you,” you whimper, “Want you to fuck the sadness out of me.”

It’s how it always went. Like a dance you both knew the steps to, perfectly well — he comes over, you guys fuck, he bruises you up a bit since you always beg him so prettily and then he’s there to pick up the pieces — listen to your ranting, asking you if you’ve been keeping up with drinking your meds and making sure you have something to eat.

He’s always there. And he would always be, no matter how much it hurt him to.

He takes a careful step towards you, lifting you up from your fluffy hiding place. You’re in his lap not even a moment later, head too heavy to hold, buried in his neck. You give it a little peck and his whole body burns. It’s like he’s some junkie going through withdrawal and your touch is the drug he so desperately craves. He’s turning his face towards your’s, slightly chapped lips kissing away at every millimeter of skin he can reach. It’s messy, it’s passionate and Akaashi doesn’t even notice the tears freely flowing down his face. A shuddering breath leaves his lips. Oh, how much he needed this.

“Keiji, need you, please,” you sigh in between kisses, one hand pawing at his pant-clad crotch. You have trouble keeping yourself up, but the need to be fucked until your brain is unable to make coherent thoughts makes the task easier.

“Yeah, yeah, need you too, pretty girl. Need to touch you,” he moans when he takes off your huge hoodie and sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath, nipples perking up at the temperature of the room. Akaashi’s hand, the one not holding onto you, paws at your breasts, squeezing until you gasp. Is it fucked up that he wants to cause you pain? You asked for it everytime you asked Akaashi to fuck you, but now he craved that himself. He craved the teary look in your eyes, the way you hit his chest when it got a little too much.

After letting himself indulge for a few moments, he lays you down on the couch, climbing on top of you, gently helping you get out of your sleep shorts and simple black panties. Cute, real cute. Akaashi missed you so much he couldn’t put it into words.

“Spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” he murmured, your legs instantly parting. Good, you haven’t forgot how you’re supposed to act. Your hands almost naturally find their place on Akaashi’s shoulders and his fingers are reaching for your pussy almost instantly. One finger circling the clit, the other easing into your hole. Tight, still so fucking tight. Akaashi groaned.

Tsukishima couldn’t fuck you as well as he could, right?

Keiji didn’t let himself overthink it. This moment was about you two; there was no space for the ‘third one’.

His second finger bullies it’s way alongside the first one and a third one joins next. It takes a while to find the spongy spot he used to be so familiar with. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone, pushing away at his clothed, hard chest from the overstimulation of Akaashi helping you ride out your orgasm.He’s smiling. That self-satisfied grin you know so well.

“Please, take off your clothes, Keiji, it’s uncomfortable,” you squirm under his gunmetal gaze and he obeys.

A single raise of your hand and he’s doing everything you ask for. It was always this way. His clothes are discarded on the dirty floor, littered with bottles of water and empty chips packets. He’s back to his position, careful not to let any of his weight fall on you. You admire him. Those big, doe-like yet still dull like before, taking in every detail of his body; from his lean physique, to his shoulder-length wavy raven hair and lithe fingers, still soiled with your clear juices. Your cheeks burn at the sight.

Akaashi’s fingers come near your mouth and you obediently part your lips, eager to take what he provides. He knows better, after all. He knows how to fix you. You clean off his slender fingers and Akaashi can’t help it - cloud-grey eyes narrowing as he pushes his digits deeper, digging until you’re gagging and only letting up when tears light up your beautiful eyes. When he finally pulls them out, he absentmindedly wipes them off on your skin. You shiver at the warm sensation and close your eyes.

Keiji pulls out his dick and it’s as pretty as he is, not too long, nor too thick, but still a lot to take; beautiful, flushed tip already leaking precum when the black-haired man gives it a few strokes. Your mouth parts to let out long breaths.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks, voice calm and collected, the complete opposite of you right now.

“Yeah, just haven’t- haven’t been with you for so long,” you shiver. Akaashi can’t help but seethe, remembering that you were with another man. Two whole damn months.

He lines up his cock with your hole and just slams it in with one smooth motion. Everything is white for a moment, you’re unable to see from the pleasure-filled pain. His cock slammed into your cervix, but he’s nice enough to let you get used to his length. You keen, not sure what you want Akaashi to do right now when the veins adorning his dick create mind-numbing friction. One of Keiji’s hands ghosts your neck, gently squeezing it and his gaze softens when you lean into his touch, craving to be hurt.

“I’m gonna move, sweet girl,” he warns you, but doesn’t give you time to think of an answer — Keiji is slamming into your tiny pussy, letting his head lean back. He’s blissed by the pleasure, fucking his fist for two months just wasn’t the same. Not even close. Pretty moans leave Keiji’s perfect lips, no matter how much he tries to suppress them. You’re just laying there, taking it, eyes cloudy and half-lidded. Mind probably already numb. Silly little thing.

“Keiji… Keiji, love,” the pet name rings in his head, the huge hand still wrapped around your willing neck squeezes. Hard. The silver ring wrapped around one of his fingers digs into your soft skin. You’re killing him. Giving him just enough to let the hurtful memories flow. It doesn’t seem to bother you.

Face content and calm, “Can you, can you burn me, please?”

You’re as sweet as ever. As if nothing ever happened. As if he’s responsible for making you feel better. Fuck. He knows he is.

“Yeah? You want me to burn you? My girl is a little fucking masochist?” it’s easy to slip into his degrading persona. Akaashi knows how much you love that. You don’t crave praise. Don’t want to be called pretty, don’t want nice things. You want temporary pain, to forget the real one that might never really go away.

You dumbly nod at Akaashi’s words, mind not putting two and two together, his cock still pounding away at your pussy, uncaring of your own pleasure. Keiji pulls out and you whine, hands automatically reaching for him, as if he would ever leave, now that he got you back.

The tall man finds a pack of mint cigarettes, left in the pocket of his black jeans. There’s a tiny daisy embroidery on the pocket done by you a long time ago. When you still had the energy to do anything. When he didn’t have to beg you to live another damn day.

Cigarette finds its way to the man’s lips and he quickly lights it up. You sigh happily, when Keiji slides his cock back into you, finally letting his fingers massage your clit. You let out a shuddered moan, pleasure burning all thoughts away.

“Ah, you’re so good to me, Keiji. So good, ah,” and with a particularly harsh thrust, the pleasure building in your lower belly snaps and you’re coming, creaming around his lengthy cock and as white hot pain surges through your whole body. Akaashi presses the hot end of the cigarette between your perfect tits. You scream, in pain and in pleasure, mumbles of “please” and garbles of his name praying for something. Something to take the pain away? Something to hurt you more?

Akaashi gives into his temptations, taking a long drag of the smoke, marking up your tits a few more times, letting you grab his shoulders and pull him close, crying away at his firm chest.

“Thank you- ah! Thank you so much, Keiji,” you breathe out and that’s all it takes for him to finish.

Your whole body turns warm as your inner walls are painted white. You’re so full. And so obedient to him. What a good girl you still are. It’s as if nothing has changed. You’re Akaashi’s again and everything falls back into place. Everything is where it’s supposed to be. You’re - in Akaashi’s arms, and Tsukishima somewhere damn far away.

You lay like this for a while - Keiji’s body on top of yours, everything sweaty and sticky, still keeping his body weight from crashing down on your tired body. He dresses up and makes you take a bath then; washing your hair for you, using a comforting vanilla smell body wash to clean your limp body next.

He can’t help but admire the marks he’s left. It’s a sign that you’re his. And he is yours. Eternally, forever. And no one can change that. No one knows how to help you, like he does.

Keiji dresses you in comfortable clothes and helps you get onto the bed after changing the sheets before laying you down. Tch, he bet that Tsukishima let you lay in messy sheets, never once changing them. Akaashi scolds himself. So much for not overthinking, so much for maturing. He was as insecure as he was in his teenage years, just learned to mask it better.

You pull Akaashi towards you, stopping his thoughts. He complies, undressing until he’s in his shirt and boxers, laying down beside you and pulling you close to himself, holding your body tight.

“I want to talk to you,” you mumble, still turned away from him with your back to his chest.

“I’m listening, baby.”

"You wanted me to feel better and I… Didn’t particularly want to get better. I guess- I guess the sadness, rash mania-driven decisions and my dependency on others has become such a big part of me that I thought…I thought that I would be empty without it."

"You wouldn’t." he interrupts your rant, pulling your shaking hands into his, gently rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to calm you down a bit.

You lift up your face to catch his eyes. Akaashi is already looking, "What?"

"You wouldn’t be empty, Y/N. The girl I met at high school… You were happy back then. You were cheerful, a bit loud and could make anyone like you. And even if you," he gently turns you towards him and caresses your face when you want to look away in shame, "think that you’re beyond fixing, or empty without your illness, you’re just wrong. I still see those traits in you. How you’re still you in the way you cheer up your friends. How you’re still you when even the delivery drivers seem to instantly like you and how you’re still you in understanding that it’s not bad to ask for help when you need it."

You don’t answer him. Somewhere deep in your mind, you know Akaashi is right. You know that he isn’t just trying to fix you to his liking, you know he doesn’t want you for the sex, despite how many times Tsukishima made you believe that. You bury your face in Akaashi’s neck and let his warmth embrace your limp and tired body.

"He told me that you wanted to make me into the version of myself that you wanted," you confess, quietly murmuring the words against the skin of his neck and Akaashi’s hands embrace you tighter. He can’t get mad now, but damn is it hard to keep his composure, "Keiji, he told me that you only wanted to fuck me ‘cause girls like me were compliant and easy to fuck," words flow out freely as you finally let go all the pent up sadness, confusion and a web of lies that you’re still so deeply tangled in, "He- he told me that you stayed with me because I was easy to hurt and that guys like you- prefered girls like me. And he let me skip taking my medicine. He said it was my choice and that he’s not gonna make me be happy and how he liked me the way I was-“ your voice breaks. You can’t say any more words.

It takes all of Akaashi’s strength to not get and go to Tsukishima’s place. Beat him up until the fire under his skin no longer burned, until he felt satisfied with the results, until he knew that you were out of the reach of the blonde’s manipulations and him. Akaashi Keiji is not a violent man, but when he sees you more fragile and broken than you were before, just because of one man and his lies, he can’t help it.

“It’s not your fault.” Akaashi kisses your face, “I know you think it is, but it isn’t. We’re gonna get you back on your medicine and you’ll go to that- that therapist downtown that you said helped you, yeah? We’re gonna get through this together. I’m always with you. I’ll help you. And… I love you, Y/N,” the confession rings into the stuffy silence of the small bedroom and you freeze in his arms.

Your lifeless eyes reach the open window. Your apartment is on the highest floor with light pollution not quite reaching it. The stars are clearly visible. Hundreds of thousands of little lights scattered across the night sky. It’s beautiful.

"The sky is so beautiful tonight, Keiji…" your voice is barely above a whisper, "A graveyard of stars."

Yes, the stars must really be shining for him tonight. He falls asleep with the thought of brighter tomorrows and a better future.

four months

summary: love like yours is undoubtedly eternal, but when you haven’t seen your boyfriend in 4 months, it's easy to think twice.

word count: 4.8 k

pairing(s): akaashi keiji x reader

genre | includes: sfw, poc-friendly reader, fem!reader, established relationship, long-distance relationship, lots of swearing (i couldn’t help myself), reader has a step-father (and he sucks), minor violence (people just get slapped it’s nothing crazy)

author’s note: i spent like 3 weeks on this and it ended up only being 4k words im gonna cry- anyway i’ve had this idea for a long time so i’m happy its out of my head. it’s based off of some hc that i read a really long time ago, but i wanted to expand on it and add my own little twists. i wrote this for the climax and proceeded to avoid writing the climax for as long as humanly possible. please ignore if the formatting looks a little funky in the beginning, i’ve been wrestling with html for 3 hours now and i’m a little tired. enough talking, enjoy!

Bokuto-san, are you sure this is okay You; 5:53pm

Yes im sure! I asked the coaches and everything Plus i owe u for tutoring me in english last year Bokuto K.; 5:54pm

I told you that you don’t have to pay me back. You did most of the work. You’re very intelligent Bokuto-san But I’m glad it’s okay. That's one less thing to worry about You; 5:56pm

THANKS (L/N)! I think Akaashi’s smartness has been rubbing off on me But what else r u worried abt? Bokuto K.; 5:57pm

It’s nothing You; 5:57pm

I don’t think its nothing (l/n). I want to help if i can Bokuto K.; 5:58pm

I guess I’m just worried that Keiji doesn’t want to see me It’s stupid, I know You; 6:01pm

I don’t think that’s stupid at all!! But you should see how sad Akaashi is without you He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does, it’s almost always because of you HEY! Send a message to him right now and you’ll see Bokuto K.; 6:03pm

Okay..? You; 6:03pm

[Attachment: 1 Image] See!!! Bokuto K.; 6:04pm

Thank you, Bokuto-san Really You; 6:07pm

Of course! It’s my job as ur senpai to make sure ur ok Did I do a good job??? Bokuto K.; 6:08pm

Yes, Bokuto-san. You really did You; 6:08pm

Of course I did!! Break’s over! I gotta go. See ya soon (l/n) And I promise not to spill the secret!!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Pinky promise? You; 6:10pm

Pinky promise!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Alright, have fun! You; 6:11pm

You scrolled back up to the picture Bokuto had just sent you with a small smile on your face. The image was blurryㅡobviously rushed as if Bokuto was trying not to get caughtㅡbut it was perfect for you. The gym's fluorescent lighting cast a halo in the gaps between your boyfriend’s unruly hair and danced in the gunmetal undertones of the eye you could see. Just as your upperclassman promised, the smallest smileㅡinvisible to the untrained eyeㅡsat comfortably on his lips. The photo was taken from the side, so you only saw the tenderness in his left eye, but you couldn’t stop your heart from swelling 3 times its size knowing you were the cause of such a fulfilling gaze. Who knew the most beautiful man in your life could get more beautiful? And all because you’d sent him a simple heart.

Maybe Bokuto was right. Keiji would be excited to see you.

But maybe he was wrong. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in almost 4 months. Don’t ask. It was messy, it was stupid, it was super fucking annoying.

ㅡㅡㅡ

You scratched the skin just below your skirt while waiting for the vending machine to process the numbers you punched in. Everyone at Fukuroudani knew that this was the best and worst machine on campus. It carried the best drinks in the largest sizes, but was near impossible to operate. Depending on the time of day, day of the week, and phase of the moon you could get your drink within 3 minutes or 15. The moon was obviously not in a favorable position, because, not including the 4 times your 1000 yen had been spat back into your hands, you’d been waiting in front of the machine for 8 minutes and 37 seconds… 38… 39…

Saved from your agony, the machine began to hum and push your drink forward. Finally. You spoke too soon, you realized, as your purchase got caught in between the racks and the glass. You knew exactly what you had to do, but had no energy to do so. A quick glance at the clock showed how little time you had left of your lunchㅡwas it worth it? Remembering that the price of this same drink was almost double at the konbini near your house, you decided it was. With fierce determination behind your eyes, you shifted your weight and swung every ounce of strength into a strategically placed kick on the machine’s side. Okay so maybe I should start stretching again. That should not have hurt as much as it did. I might have actually pulled a muscle. Rubbing at your leg again, you crouched to grab your drink from the slot and straightened immediately when you heard high-pitched whistles come from behind you. You didn’t have to turn, but you did anyway if only to glare at the group of 3rd years trying to rile you up.

“Aren’t all of you 18? Are you trying to catch a case by catcalling a first year? That’s what I thought. Respectfully, go fuck yourselves,” you seethed as you snatched your drink, popped the tab, and left the scene before a wandering teacher tried to reprimand you for cursing out your seniors.

Sore, irritated, and drink acquired at the expense of most of your lunch break, you stormed back to your classroom knowing you could air your grievances to Keiji about the occurrences of the 15 minutes since you’d seen him last. Thank God you were eating with him today. Not a day goes by that you aren’t grateful for how reliable your boyfriend is. You could count on him to say what you needed to hear whenever you needed it.

What you weren’t counting on was sliding open the classroom doors to find some girl leaning onto your desk and into Keiji’s personal space. His eyes shot to you when he heard the door connect with the wall and you could almost hear his plea for help. His eyes widened ever so slightly and he gave you a near indiscernible inclination of the head, your shared sign language’s way of saying, “I don’t know how I found myself in this situation, but I want to leave.” It was normally reserved for nosy neighborhood aunties trying to introduce their nieces and nephews to the both of you, but the wordless communication you both had been building since you were young was just as effective now.

If you weren’t angry before (you were), you were beyond agitated now. Was this not Japan? Was everyone not taught respect at a young age? Did you wake up this morning in an alternate nightmare universe where everything was ever-so-slightly more inconvenient than what your emotional reserves for the day were willing to handle? You didn’t realize you were clenching your fists until some of your drink dribbled onto the back of your hand. You also didn’t realize your feet were moving until you were right in front of the pair.

“Keiji, baby, who’s this?” Akaashi winced at the sickly sweetness in your tone, this was the side of you he avoided at all costs: the affectionately titled, Overworked And Underpayed Customer Service Employee Meets Pissed Off Soccer Mom. In less coded words, the side of you that used politeness as the final barrier between you and righteous fury. For anyone that knew you, it was a terrifying place to be. But for you, this stage was rather cathartic. It was a neat segue that allowed you to welcome the rage that flushed your system clean of any of your usual friendliness and settled on top of your bones like molten rock over the side of a volcano. The look in your eyes read danger and the mystery girl ignored all the signs.

“Oh don’t mind me. I won’t be relevant to you much longer. You can call me Yasunobu, but Keiji here can call me Naoko,” an offending hand rested on Akaashi’s bicep as she giggled. I’m too young to get my blood pressure monitored, but I just might have to after this. You felt your eye twitch.

“Yasunobu-san, I don’t think my boyfriend likes you clinging to him like that. Please let him go,” if this was the Disney movie Inside Out, the little emotion people in your brain would be celebrating and shaking hands like they were at NASA coordinating a successful moon landing. You managed to talk without cursing her entire bloodline, that was impressive.

“I think it’s fine, he isn’t saying anything,” Yasunobu leaned in further and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. What the fuck this is literal harassment- “but don’t worry. I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget to text me, Keiji.” Her now devilish smile stretched wider when your brow furrowed. Yasunobu’s eyes roved over your boyfriend once more, before she pushed off your desk and adjusted her clothes dramatically.

“Move it, whore,” Akaashi just barely stood from his seat in time to catch you. Did she just fucking shove me? It took you no time to regain your balance.

“Run that by me again. I don’t think I heard you correctly,” our words were louder than you’d intended and soon everyone in the room was looking at the 3 of you, eager to soak up the drama for this week. Especially because you were involved. Now, don’t misunderstand, you have a great reputation. Abrasive at times, but only when asserting yourself. When you weren’t, you were respectful and generous. Compassionate and hardworking, “a pleasure to have in class” as teachers say. But everyone knew that you were a ticking time bomb. Not quite hotheaded, but definitely not slow to anger. Normally, you could catch yourself when your self-control was about to slip, but stories spread like forestfire of the minor incidents in which staggered breathing didn’t do its due diligence. Very rarely did anyone step out of line enough for you to put them in their place, but now that it was happening, everyone wanted to see it firsthand.

“I said you should get out of my way. You’re deaf and ugly too? No wonder your boyfriend wasn’t pushing me away. Everyone knows he’s too good for you,” the silence in the room was suffocating.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your arm tightened just enough to pull you back from the spiraling thoughts he knew you had lost yourself to. The worst part is that she’s not wrong. Keiji is too good for m-

“(Y/n) just sit, she’s not worth your energy.”

“I know.”

Full of rage, yet somehow numb to the core, you sat. You picked up your drink (it splashed when she pushed you and now the sides were sticky) and took a long sip, nearly draining the entire can. Before you could set it down, it was coming back up to your face, spilling the contents over your nose and cheeks and dripping onto your uniform. You knew the spot between your eyebrows would be sore from the impact the next day. Okay she’s trying to make a statement and humiliate me, cool. Did she have to smack the metal can into my fucking forehead?

“Yasunobu-san I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you’ve clearly gone too far. I’m not breaking up with (y/n) to date you. Even if I were going to date someone else, you are the last person I’d choose. All you’ve done is show how ugly your personality is,” Akaashi’s voice was ice as he did he best to dry you off. His focus was no longer on the girl who was now flushed red at her plan blowing up in her face.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I’m proud of you for not losing your temper,” Akaashi had no clue how things had gotten so out of control. He was just glad it was over. Lunch was going to end soon and the teacher would come and make sure Yasunobu got the discipline she deserved.

That would be too easy though.

Before Akaashi knew what was happening, you were pushing past him and grabbing the girl’s quickly descending hand.

“First you flirt with him, then you try to slap him? Are you crazy?” you seethed. This would go down as your worst lunch break in high school history. It didn’t get much worse than this. This was a textbook American high school movie conflict, and you were driving the bus straight into Regina George.

“Don’t touch me,” Yasunobu hissed as she snatched her hand away and sent it flying back at your face in full force. Gasps went around the room and you distantly acknowledged someone running out of the room in search of a teacher. She smirked in victory as you stared at the floor and held your cheek. She just fucking slapped me.

“That actually almost hurt a little,” you mumbled. There was a pregnant pause as the whole room held its breath. This was the type of out-of-line behavior that would unleash the side of you no one was previously dumb enough to intentionally provoke. The only question now was: what were you going to do?

You didn’t keep anyone waiting long. Your hand descended in a swift arc onto the girl’s face. It was no ordinary slap. It was the deafening kind. Your palm was cupped as it clapped against her ear and sent her tumbling to the floor. You knew it was a one and done ordeal; nobody took a slap like the one you dealt out without being knocked off their equilibrium for a while.

“Someone take her to the nurse’s office, she’ll need to lie down for a bit,” was what you wanted to say, but before you could open your mouth, 3 teachers burst into the room. All they saw was a girl sobbing hysterically on the floor (when did she start crying?) and you standing over her.

“(l/n), you’re with me. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Well, shit.

ㅡㅡㅡ

It was worse than you thought. A lot worse. That fact didn’t dawn on you until you sat with your mother and step-father on the opposite side of the table from Yasunobu and her parents. The three of them were dressed to the teeth with name brand clothing and clutching their bags like you were going to rob them. Her stuck-up parents shifted haughtily and narrowed their eyes whenever you glanced in their direction, so you kept your eyes glued to the wall behind them. Apparently the nasty behavior was hereditary. The teacher who dragged you out of the classroom, Suzuki-sensei, a third year science teacher, alongside the principal entered the silent room to debrief both sets of parents on the situation and dole out the consequences. You were expecting a severe scolding and extra cleaning duties at the worst. Suzuki-sensei was on your side, as were many othersㅡeye-witness accounts all reported much of the same thing, it was obvious what the truth was, but the Yasunobu family was one of the largest benefactors of the academy. As long as Naoko continued with her crocodile tears, Fukuroudani was at risk.

Suzuki-sensei pulled your family aside, promising to do everything in his power to ensure Yasunobu didn’t get off scot-free. As for your punishment, there was nothing you could do. Trust me, your mother tried. Funding was far more important than a single student, no matter how promising of a student you were.

So one formal, written apology and a lot of screaming matches later, you were temporarily unenrolled from Fukuroudani Academy and shipped off to an all-girls etiquette school. Your mother, bless her heart, tried to reason with your step-father, but he wasn’t having it. He’d been looking for any reason to send you away and make room in the house for his children and wasn’t keen on letting this opportunity slip away (that was another can of worms for another day).

“She’s too volatile.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for months that she has an attitude problem.”

“Assault over a boy? I told you he was bad news.”

“It’s for the best.”

Even if it wasn’t, you found yourself stuck in a correctional environment to manage behavior that you didn’t have. Cut off from your friends, your mother, and the love of your life, you were miserable. There was only so much a phone call could do. Skype calls were hard to coordinate with your momㅡshe was working when you were free, you were asleep when she was on breakㅡand the rare face-to-face visits you had were all too short for your liking.

The only hope you clung to was the promise of it only lasting one semester.

And you made it. Nothing would ever compare to the 4 months in hell you experienced, but now you were on the other side, shaking near imperceptibly on the train towards Shinzen High School. Shortly after school let out for the summer, you met with your mother to celebrate. She was the one who planted the idea you were now carrying out into your head.

“(y/n), why don’t you surprise Keiji at training camp? He doesn’t expect to see you until he gets back. I think it would make his day. His mother told me he’s been miserable without you,” You knew your genius came from your mom, moments like this only solidified it.

It was a great idea, you wouldn’t be 6 stops (oh my god 6 stops) away from the high school if it wasn’t. You were just scared. 4 months was a long time. Naoko could have sunk her claws into Keiji in that time. Of course, he wouldn’t have texted you every waking moment of the day and called you late into the night if that was the case, but it was still a possibility. Even if it wasn’t, he could have changed. You could have changed. That was the entire point of your absence anyway. You were miraculously stubborn, but there was only so much you could reject. The lifestyle you’d been forced into was not easily ignored. What if the things he loved most about you were gone? What if when he saw you, his eyes didn’t widen then crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Would he pull his large, loving hands out of your own and neglect to fidget with them in the way he knew you loved?

What if the Akaashi Keiji waiting for you at Shinzen High wasn’t yours?

You couldn’t take that heartbreak.

It was impossible to envision a life without Keiji, you couldn’t remember a time before him. Your life has been intricately intertwined with his since before you could walk. He did life with you. Before any of your friends, you showed him when you first learned how to tie your shoes. He taught you the kanji for beautiful and wrote it on the back of your hand everyday in second grade. Even though you sucked, you helped him practice volleyball on Sundays in middle school. You opened your Fukuroudani acceptance letters together and swore on your hearts that you’d never tell another soul how hard you both cried. His growing pains were your own. If he was gone, who would tutor Bokuto-san with you? Who would joke about your mother loving him more than you? Who would remind you that you were never too flawed to be loved?

An announcement over the train’s speaker scared you out of your thoughts. Your attention shifted to the monitor overhead, but you couldn’t make out the map through the mistiness of your eyes. Stupid Keiji making you love him enough to cry in public. If you told him about this he’d laugh at you, so he’ll just never know. Bringing a sweaty palm to wipe your face, your breath hitched at the now clear map in front of you. 2 stops to go. You could just get off at the next stop and take the next train going in the opposite direction. It’s not like Keiji is going to die. You’ll see him when he gets back from camp. That might be easier.

But you’re (l/n) (y/n), self-proclaimed baddest bitch alive. Bad bitches don’t go back on their word. Besides, you’d already bothered Bokuto-san and the coaches to allow you to stay for the rest of the week. It would be rude to not show up last minute, especially after all the time they’d spent trying to accommodate you. Were you going to waste their time over some silly doubt? No way. The most loving boy on the planet was (unknowingly) waiting for you and he would be happy to see you. You missed him and he missed you too. You wouldn’t have to scroll very far in your texts to prove it. You could do this. You were going to do this.

With your mind made up, you exhaled deeply and shook all the bad thoughts out of your head. As if the universe was encouraging you to move before you changed your mind, the train screeched to a stop as it pulled into the station closest to the high school. Duffel bag hanging securely over your shoulder, you broke through the commuters moving too slowly for your liking and inhaled the fresh summer air that you’d been denied in the stuffy train compartment.

You pulled up the GPS on your phone and punched in the address for Shinzen High school with surprisingly stable fingers. A smile grew on your face as you looked at your ETA; in less than 20 minutes you’d be reunited with Keiji. You couldn’t wait.

But in the meantime, you had to plan how you were going to scare the shit out of him.

ㅡㅡㅡ

The configuration of Shinzen wasn’t all that different from that of Fukuroudani. You could navigate the empty school grounds with little difficulty, letting intuition guide you. You hummed a song with no rhythm as you moved, two-stepping and spinning to the cicada orchestra filling in the background with soft miin-miins.

Boisterous laughter cut through the previously still air and you knew immediately that you were in the right place. The smell of meat and overlapping chatter lead you behind the gyms where you found a large group of, unsurprisingly, ravished-looking, disheveled boys making excited conversation as the managers (you assume because you recognize Yukie and Kaori) buzz around the grill. Hoping to find your boyfriend or one of his teammates, you shuffled a little closer to the scene and elevated yourself on the tips of your toes. Your nose wrinkled in displeasure as you realized they all look the same: tall, athletic, sweaty teenage boys.

A cluster of blue caught your attention from the corner of your eye and you locked on to the two-toned hair of your school’s captain. Bingo. Just as you were going to step in the direction of the Fukuroudani team, you were stopped by another familiar face.

“Ah, Kuroo-san! It’s been a while,” a large grin spread across your features as you leaned in for a side hug. He got under your skin so easily, but you were proud to call Kuroo a friend. He was one of the few people that could set off your hair trigger and live to tell the tale. You were getting soft. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Bokuto came crashing into Keiji’s house with Kuroo at his side. Very rarely did movie dates stay as just the two of you. Knowing Kuroo Tetsurou the way you did, this hug would end with his knuckles digging into your scalp and your elbow in his gut.

“Yes it has, (L/N). You know, I was expecting a more formal greeting. A 90 degree bow, a western-style curtsy even? Did you truly learn nothing from your time away?” As if on cue, he began to tug you into his sweaty (ew) torso and push your head around.

“Oi let me go, you menace,” you grumbled as you tried to push him off of you, “Etiquette school was just housewife training with calculus. I’m not going to worship the ground you walk on.” Finally breaking free, the two of you held a childish glare before relaxing into soft peals of laughter.

“Bokuto already told me that you were coming. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows. He's actually kept his mouth shut aside from that,” Kuroo placated the worry that filled your eyes for a brief moment before pointing in the direction you were heading before, “Akaashi should be down there. Go get your mopey little boyfriend.”

Kuroo pushed you lightly, not giving you the chance to say something snarky. At the call of your name you turn back around and are greeted with a look of sincerity not often acquainted with Kuroo Tetsurou’s face, “It’s good to have you back, honestly. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Mission back in mind, you set back off to find Keiji. Your quickened steps were filled with a giddiness that you knew had flooded every cell of your body. Though your worry and doubt were shed long before you set foot on campus, you couldn’t help but notice the effervescent fluttering in your stomach as it lept to your throat and back several times over. Less than a minute now.

Head on a swivel, you must have looked lost or insane staring into groups of unfamiliar people and muttering in mild irritation when you couldn’t find what you were looking for.

“I could have sworn I just saw them? How does a group of 15 people just disappear?”

So focused on your task, you didn’t notice the eyes and whispers following you. Who were you? Didn’t they have this area reserved? What were you looking for? Should they tell a coach? Speculations bloomed in every conversation trying to place a story on you. None the wiser, you pressed on.

“I swear to God, if he’s in the bathroom or something- oh,” there, sitting demurely at the table full of your schoolmates, facing away from you, was Keiji. His hair was messier than usual and from behind you could tell he was just about ready to sink into the bench beneath him. The only thing holding him up was the arm he propped on the table and the palm he rested his cheek on. You understood. Training camp was no joke. No text message could properly convey the amount of work everyone put in this week. You could practically hear his inner monologue begging whatever deity took pity on him to send a shot of espresso from the sky. You weren’t coffee, but you could deliver an equally effective shock to his system.

In a swift motion, the bag on your shoulder was sailing through the air and colliding with his back. He was slow to react from exhaustion and you almost felt bad, but it would pay off in 5...4...3...2…

“Bokuto-san, it’s been a long day, please don’t throw things at me. There are easier ways to get my attention…” Keiji exhaled deeply as he turned around to scold Bokuto only to remember the captain was sitting right across from him. His confused eyes blinked dumbly when they finally saw you. All was silent as the surrounding players watched with bated breath.

Holding back a chuckle was proving more and more difficult as realization slid onto your boyfriend’s face, so you settled for a smirk and a lifted brow. It didn’t last long because the recognition on his face softened into something akin to fondness, to love, to coming home. The look was deeper than the crinkling of eyelids that normally translated into Keiji’s nonverbal love. It was a look you weren’t ready for, but something you couldn’t have gone another second without. You found quickly that you couldn’t keep your smirk up much longer and it was replaced with trembling lips. Amber rays of the setting sun honeyed the gaze you both shared; it was at times like this that you wished you were able to draw because you dreaded the day when every detail of this moment was lost in your memory.

(Little did you know, you would find yourself locked in a similar gaze less than 10 years from now, right after your wedding veil was lifted over your eyes.)

Akaashi Keiji is known as an ethereal being to those who don’t know him, if only they could see him now, scrambling to his feet and over the bench, barely stopping himself from face-planting into the grass. Gone was the poise that followed his every movementㅡhis only focus was pulling you into his chest and burying his face into the crook of your neck. The pull of your arms around his neck was automatic; your body had not forgotten how right it felt to be slotted with his. You could have stood there, wrapped in his embrace until you both became one with the grass below your feet. Instead you squeezed him tighter and relished in the chance to feel him again.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

4 months was a long time, but in comparison to the eternity you were going to love Keiji for, it was nothing at all.

© mamasbakeria 2021. do not repost, translate (without permission), or modify

HQ BOYS AS YOUR S/O—DATES THEY'D GO ON WITH YOU

synopsis. going on dates with the hq! boys

ft. kageyama tobio, akaashi keiji, miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurou

others. character! is aged up, hq timeskip! era

notes. am back baby 😎 i haven't been active in writing because I am OBSESSED w/ love & deepspace. it has me on a chokehold i fear 😔 i just need the snowfall embrace zayne card and life will be all GOOD but I'm broke and there's only like,, a day left so */cries

[ masterlist ]

KAGEYAMA TOBIO would like to go on an aquarium date with you. he'd hold your hand as he drags you around the aquarium. you two would have a game of picking out your guy's favorite aquatic animal in each section. but he would try to find the ugliest-looking fish and say, “Hey—it looks like you.” he'd laugh as you hit his arm, and you'd try to find another ugly fish to say the same thing to him. and when you two get to the dome you just sit and enjoy the sea-life that's swimming around you.

AKAASHI KEIJI wouldn't hesitate to go on library dates with you. you both love going on simple and intimate dates where basking in each other's presence is enough. so a library date is a no-brainer for the two of you. and it's not because he doesn't like talking to you, he just loves the feeling of having you near/beside him. you two could be doing your own thing, but he'll have his hand on you (your hand or your lap), or wrap his arms around you. he'd sometimes check on you and whisper, “Are you all right, love? You're so engrossed in the book you're reading. What is it about?”

MIYA ATSUMU would be down for a movie date with you. having a date at the cinema has practically become the two of you's go-to-date. especially at times if you two don't know where to go for your guy's date night, then you bet that he's already searching for the movies that are airing and booking a seat. he'd be the type to “accidentally” sip on your drink or eat from your popcorn. or if you're sharing a popcorn then he'd intentionally brush his hands with yours. he would also be the type to cling to you if he's feeling cold. if there's a part in the movie that's boring he'd start whispering to you like,  “This movie is so boring that I'm getting sleepy. Let's ditch this and go to the arcade instead.”

KUROO TETSUROU would bring you to those fancy dinners. don't get him wrong, he does prefer a simple dinner, but taking you out to fancy places just makes everything with you feel so intimate. it's not like he's flaunting his money to you, it's simply just him being so down bad and loving on spoiling you. he'd be the type to open the door out for you, pull out your chair for you before you sit down, hold your hands across the table, cut the meat up for you—and he'd just do everything you can do for yourself. he'd say something like, “I know you can do it on your own, but tonight please let me treat you like the Princess that you are.”

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 | 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘺𝘶𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

↬ featuring: 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶, 𝘈𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘫𝘪, 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱!𝘒𝘪𝘵𝘢 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦, 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘮𝘢 𝘒𝘰𝘻𝘶𝘮𝘦

↬ tw/general warnings: 𝘨𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 (𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 & 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘢'𝘴), 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨!

↬ category: 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬

↬ a/n: I love them my soul

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗨 ↬

pls he would of already started recording before you even tripped

because y'all were goofing around at 3am blasting "why'd you only call me when you're high" by arctic monkeys in your shared wireless earbuds

he was recording you running backwards, in hopes you'll trip so he can keep it for blackmail

and guess what? his wishes were granted

"rinnn~ look at me- FUCK!"

you landed on your ass, rolling around on the pavement while grasping it and laughing

he was slightly wheezing behind the camera, his phone was shaking from his laughter

"I- you alright?" he would ask you

"my fucking ass is in pain"

thinking of a response, he smirks

"aww, want me to kiss it for you?"

you immediately felt better after he said that </3

𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗜 𝗞𝗘𝗜𝗝𝗜 ↬

akaashi would let out a soft chuckle at first then immediately help you up

you guys were on your way to the library to issue a couple of books to bring home

while you were busy looking at a cute shirt inside a nearby shop, the tip of your shoe got caught in one of the many cracks of the sidewalk you both were walking on

since you two were holding hands, he was dragged down with you

"ouch- sorry keiji! I wasn't looking"

he lets out a soft laugh and gives you a hand to grab

"it's alright, love. just be careful next time"

you nodded and slightly winced when you stood up

he noticed your expression turn into a grimace for a split second

"are you hurt?"

"n-nope! not at all. now let's go-"

you tried to continue walking, but he wasn't budging

"keiji?"

"we'll go to the library another day, we need to go back and check that ankle of yours"

and he forces you to go back home with him to make sure you're FULLY okay

𝗞𝗜𝗧𝗔 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗘 ↬

kita, a literal god, he manages to catch you before you fall to the ground

so you guys were doing some work on the farm. making sure everything was growing properly, maybe harvest some crops along the way

as you were making your way to kita, who was crouched down and picking some beautiful red strawberries that were currently in season, you didn't notice a substantially deep divot in the soil in front of you

"hey shin-shin! I got the- SHIT"

you ended up dropping the equipment you brought over

but fortunately, kita quickly stood up and caught you mid-fall, completely dismissing the fallen tools

"you okay, dear?"

you look up at his figure, sheepishly smiling and nodding to his question

"I'm fine! also sorry about the equipment, I'll pick them up"

as you were trying to pry out of his hold, he tightened his hold on your frame

"um, shinsuke?"

"let's just stay here for a bit longer"

and so you stayed like that for a little while longer, until you kept reminding him of the forgotten mess on the dirt-ground

𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗠𝗔 𝗞𝗢𝗭𝗨𝗠𝗘 ↬

he'd just stare at you for a bit, but then help you up :)

you were walking home with him instead of kuroo, since he had to run an errand. because you two didn't want kenma getting run over while playing Mario <3

as he was playing his video games, you were conversing as normal. he'd nod along to your words, letting you know he was listening

in the middle of explaining a story, your foot stepped on a broken pen- causing you to fall forward

your hands scraped itself against the concrete, your knees doing the same

"d-damn..."

you carefully stood up while apologising for your clumsiness

"sorry kenma! I didn't see that pen there..."

realising he was staring, he slipped his console in his pocket and gently wrapped his hands around you, slowly lifting you up

"u-um... are you alright?" he shifted his gaze to the small droplets of blood running down your knees and elbows

"I don't think I am? considering I'm bleeding..."

he hummed and wrapped one of your arms around his shoulders, hoping he was useful in some way

"we can stop by my house to get some bandaids or something"

"are you sure?"

"mhm, w-we can also play some games if you want..."

"YES!"

so you and kenma played video games until 2am

luckily, it wasn't a school day