Latest Posts by victorias-fic-recs - Page 8

Once This is Over • 「A. Keiji」

Summary: After what felt like ages of not being able to hold you, Akaashi can finally wake up next you again.

A/N: I’ve been suffering from some serious writers block with the request for some reason^^ so i decided to try writing something !! the requests are happening,,, eventually lolol

Word Count: 1617

You don’t really remember what happened last night, you’d stayed up working on a paper in hopes of greeting your boyfriend when he came home and yet, somehow, woke up neatly tucked in your bed with your boyfriend, Akaashi, cuddling you like you were a plushie with no recollection of ever seeing him yesterday.

His arm is thrown over your waist, toned muscles laying heavy against you (Keiji never quite stopped working out even after volleyball) as you tried maneuvering towards your phone to check the time - depending on the time you’d have to leave early for class.

“Mmhk,” you hear a groan from behind you, “Stop moving, too early.”

You let out a small laugh at his words but ignore them anyway, opting to reach your arms out again and finally grabbing your phone.

“I said,” he tries to swat your hand away from the phone to no avail, “T’ stop moving.”

“Keiji,” you groan, “Stop being a baby.”

Instead of answering your boyfriend just huffs air into your neck in annoyance causing you to jump at the contact, you slap tap his arm in annoyance before turning on your phone.

“S’ too bright.” He complained, burying his head into your neck.

“Your eyes are closed, Akaashi.” You roll your eyes, he could be such a baby early in the mornings, “Ah, it’s seven, still got some time then.”

“Please,” he slurs his words, “just shh, ‘M sleepy.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, leaving your phone on the edge of the bedside table you sink back into his arms - earning a happy groan from the editor.

As you two lay in bed for a while, your eyes start to feel heavy with sleep - you laid beside the man you loved under warm blankets, shielded away from the cold air in your room in his arms, the sun leaked from the curtains as the streets began filling with sounds.

You hear him yawn, his eyelashes tickle your back as he blinks and you giggle at the sensation until you feel cold feet resting against your legs.

“You’re warm,” he comments, his voice clearer than before, “Stop struggling, come on.”

“Stop pressing your cold feet against me, Akaashi!” You scold him, you wiggle in his arms a bit more before giving up, he simply wasn’t giving up.

“No good morning?” He teases, you feel his feet press harder against you and you shiver.

“You’ll get a good morning when waking up next to you actually goes well.” You laugh incredulously, you didn’t worry about him taking what you’d said wrong - even if your words were harsh you knew he wouldn’t take them to heart.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Neither of you says anything for a while, you rub your eyes and sigh, you hear another yawn tearing through Akaashi’s throat. You two decide to just bask in the silence - as much silence as there can be in a street like yours for a little while longer. Your classes on Sunday started at a quarter till eight and lasted until twelve, and his shift started at eight and lasted till ten, so this was pretty much the only time you two had together this week and next.

“Thank you,” you whisper, you take his arms and wrap it around your head - taking his hand and playing with his fingers you continue, “for, uh, carrying me to bed.”

“Oh? It’s nothing.” Keiji sits up but doesn’t take his arm away from you, he reaches for a remote before turning on the small TV in your shared room.

“It’s not nothing, though,” you mumble, eyes fixed on the small screen as he flickered through the channels, “it was, well- it was nice but I wanted to surprise you.”

He doesn’t say anything and you look up to his sitting form, he sat there with a blue shirt and oversized pajama pants that didn’t match - his hair was a mess, his eyes were squinted as he tried figuring out what he was watching since he didn’t like putting his glasses on in the morning - he looked like a mess, not like the perfect everyday Akaash Keiji you saw out in the streets and yet, seeing him like this, relaxed and calm with you, you think it’s the best he’s ever looked. Especially with the soft smile that had his cheeks lifting up and taking a red tone.

“Seeing you passed out on the desk was a surprise, trust me,” he laughs, “it was like seeing Bokuto in high school studying for maths again.”

“Hey,” You elbow him, “are you friendzoning me?”

“Maybe,” he teases, his eyebrows raise as he looks down at you, “for all you know me and Bokuto have a secret house in Korea and are planning on leaving this week, he’ll quit volleyball and I’ll become a professional voice actor.”

“Do I get paid for keeping it a secret from the media that you escaped and Kotaru fled the country?”

“No but you get the house and the dog.”

You let out a loud laugh at his serious expression causing Keiji to break character and smile at you.

“Whew, anyway as much as I’d love to stay and hear about your plans to abandon me and our dog for your best friend,” you try peeling his arm off but he didn’t budge at all, his smile only growing larger the more you struggled, “I’ve got classes.”

“It’s Saturday,” he rolls his eyes at, “your classes are tomorrow.”

“It’s not- it’s not Saturday,” you furrow your eyebrows, “it’s Sunday.”

Emerald green eyes catch yours, the soft morning sun reflecting on the green sea in his eyes, and you would’ve drowned in them if he hadn’t been looking at you like you were crazy. In response, you reach out for your phone once more - letting his arm fall from your embrace, Keiji sits himself up once more and leans over to watch over you - you unlock your phone and sure enough; Saturday, seven thirty something.

“Huh… I could’ve sworn it was Sunday.” You mumble, you remember checking your phone last night and seeing it was Saturday.

“Maybe you got the days mixed up.” He suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.” You let your phone fall down besides your pillow before turning around and snuggling up to Akaashi, gripping his shirt tight as you hugged him.

He laughs a bit at your actions, it’d been some time since you two had been able to lay besides in bed together while, well, awake - normally you had classes and he had work in the morning, only arriving late into the night.

“How was work yesterday?” You ask once he’s settled on the sports channel (they were airing a MSBY match from yesterday Akaashi had missed).

“Not great,” he sighs, his free hand comes to mess with his hair before falling into his lap, “the new intern, Haruto, accidentally got half of the files on his computer deleted. Basically half of his work, gone, just like that- I had to spend the whole day talking with tech to see if we could get back the scans or- or something, turns out Haruto can’t organize his files but man is he good at deleting them.”

You laugh at his rant, he’d talk about Haruto often, an intern he’d been assigned who had a knack for getting into trouble and dragging your boyfriend along with him.

“I’m hoping yours was better.” He raises his eyebrows and looks down at you.

“Oh, definitely. I managed to finish the first few assignments, only got this one,” you gesture towards your desk, “and a project before I’m done. Should be easy from here on, I think.”

As you go on about your assignments, Keiji lays his head on yours - his cheeks pressed against your hair as you ramble about your stupid partner who you found out had been ditching class - as he listened to you talk. He could feel his breath even out and his heart calm down into a steady, relaxing rate. It wasn’t often that you two could be together like this and he planned on enjoying this as much as he could.

As much as the black haired man wanted to complain about not being able to be with you more often, how it’d put a strain in your relationship, he found himself appreciating you more and more; now that you weren’t there often he realized how important you were to

him. He knew this schedule wasn’t forever, and lord was he thankful - he didn’t think he’d be able to live forever seeing so little of you -, he was getting a promotion later this year and you’re graduating from your final year at the same time, he couldn’t wait for your schedules to be coordinated but for now he liked the way this was going. This last few months had made him appreciate being able to do the mundane things with you, like waking up early in the morning only to stay in bed to be with each other, leaving notes on the door and bedside tables for the other, cooking food and enjoying the others cooking even when they weren’t there to eat with you. He realized how much you lightened up his life, because it was days like these where his heart felt the lightest and happiest, so he’d treasure them and the feelings they brought.

He knew that mornings like this were only in passing and that one day you’d look back at them and wonder how you did it. Because once these days go by and are lost to time, he’ll make sure there will be no need to treasure these rare moments - he’ll make them daily.

Miya Atsumu is a blanket hogger, not because he likes the added warmth of being sandwiched in his blanket; but because he always believed in monsters under the bed. Osamu calls him weird, but Atsumu insists that it’s better safe than sorry. As long as he’s safe under the covers, the monsters, demons, or ghost can’t reach him. 

So obviously, it’s Atsumu’s duty to protect you right? You weren’t ask picky as him about the blanket but you’d always find yourself waking up in his arms with the blankets wrapped around the both of you. Your legs securely tucked under the sheets and your waist held tightly with his arms. It was sweet. 

And you wouldn’t have suspected anything at all until you took a nap on the couch. The summer heat making you sweat so you let the blanket fall to the ground as you continue snoozing into the cushions. You tried hard to fall into slumber but the way the humidity stuck to you like glue kept you in a daydream state with your eyes closed. 

But soon, you heard the pitter patter of footsteps of your boyfriend. A sigh on his lips and the soft fabric of the blanket being slowly placed onto your body. For a few seconds you refused to move, despite the heat crawling on you, you feel him start to tuck the blanket against your frame. A slight hum on his lips and when he reaches your torso, you turn to look at him. An amused smile on you. 

“What are you doing?” 

Atsumu doesn’t feel embarrassed, he continues to tuck you in, mumbling softly, “Making sure the demons don’t get to you while you sleep.” 

It makes your heart melt, especially when you think about the amount of times Atsumu has removed or stolen Osamu’s blankets; but the fact that he was here, right at this moment, trying to make sure you wouldn’t be taken by the demons. You break free from the blanket burrito, arms capturing your man to bring him to you and you smother him with kisses. 

night dreamer

pairing: akaashi keiji x reader

quick drabble, a little angsty

You’re not really sleeping, but Akaashi thinks you are. 

Akaashi thinks a lot. When he whispers to you at night, you can’t help but listen. He talks about everything and anything; work, the cats he meets on the way to work, the nice old ladies who offer him gifts on the way home. He prays that his co-workers will make his life easier, just this once. He thinks about his old teammates a lot, he even misses being on a team sometimes, but he thinks he finds adulthood more straightforward and he likes that he has you. 

You make sure to lay still and keep your face relaxed, even when he says something unintentionally funny, you pinch yourself if you must to keep from laughing. 

Sometimes he comes so close that his breath fans across your face and you wonder if he knows you’re really awake. 

You never say anything in the morning and he never asks. 

When he whispers things which are too personal or painful, things he may not really want you to hear at all, you try to sink into darkness for his sake–into that moment where awareness and certainty isn’t tangible, so when you wake up the next day you cannot tell if his words were dream or reality. You can’t alway quite grasp it, however, and there are days where you find yourself walking around feeling riddled with his secrets. 

(It feels almost like a punishment, the recurring dream you have on nights where you feel guilty. 

He is alone, so alone and you cannot reach him. You try to hold him with ephemeral arms only for them to pass right through him. Your vanishing voice calls out for him, but he cannot hear. It’s in the moment where your fingers pulse as though they’re filled with fire, that if you reach out in that instant you’ll be able to touch him–that’s when you wake up. 

The next day, you always hold onto him tight, like he’ll disappear if you let go for even a moment.)

You’re very close to sleep tonight, if he had only waited a few minutes more you wouldn’t have heard. His murmurs are filled with affection and promise, you become conscious at the end of one of his musings. 

“…When we marry, I’ll take care of you. You’ll never have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

Against your will, your eyes pop open, and Akaashi’s deep blue orbs are right there, staring back at you. 

You’ve always found it funny how he exhibits shock; his facial expression doesn’t change at all, though sometimes when he’s particularly surprised his eyes might widen just a fraction, he doesn’t move a muscle as though he were a prey animal at the mercy of its predator. What gives him away is how he basically stops breathing, his chest constricts and the air blowing through his nose hastens its pace as he begins to lose air capacity. 

When he recovers, the sound of him inhaling is rather deep, “Did you hear?”

You nod, “I’m sorry.”

His tone is careful, hesitant, “Is it–does it sound like something you want?”

“Did you mean it?”

A look of offense sweeps past his face, he reaches out to brush away the tinges of sleep in your eyes, “Of course. Every word.”

Your hand cups his chin, thumb stroking the underside of it admiringly as though he were made of precious stone, and you lean in to kiss him. 

“I can’t wait.”

➵ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

➵ 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➵ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 𝟐𝐤

“Are you still single?”

It was an overused taunt between the both of you.

Miya Atsumu, the nation’s bachelor, had taken your journal away from you. His twin brother was getting married and he and his bride had hired you to ensure their day would be glorious.

“And who are you to say that, Miya-san?” You smiled after swiping your journal with all of your plans away from his sweaty hold. He stuck his tongue out when you laughed in triumph.

Each of his friends had fallen into the curse of matrimony—as Atsumu would call it. His teammates from Inarizaki, from MSBY, to the national team, and even his rivals have all settled down and some of them even had the “privilege” of having children. He had attended the majority of the weddings as the best man; and you had attended all as their wedding planner and that was how you met the ever so charming Miya Atsumu.

“What’s the excuse this time? Commitment issues? You know... you should probably be planning your own wedding soon, Y/N.” He laughed, playing with the nameplate on your desk. “We’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t really see the need to get married. Commitment isn’t a joke, Miya-san—“

“Miya-san is my dad, just call me Atsumu.”

“I like my job, Miya-san.” You flipped through the demands of the couple. They wanted fancy but simple, memorable but special, a garden theme sounded nice but having the reception at a beach wouldn’t hurt, Elegant but hints of youth would be nice. That was as far as their requests went. The rest was up to the both of you.

Being a good friend of the bride and as the wedding planner, you had the duty of making their day perfect to suit both of their interests. As the brother of the groom, Atsumu was left in your care to help you out—a request from the couple.

Their special day rested in both of your hands.

Atsumu fumbled with his phone. “I’m just saying, most girls at our age tend to worry about settling down. And we’ve had at least seventeen weddings together in the last six years, right? Seven of them, I was the best man—not that I’m counting or anything.”

He miscounted. The both of you had seen each other at eighteen weddings total. At every wedding since the third, you would taunt each other regarding your relationship status.

He charmed a bridesmaid or cousin from two of those events but declined their company, danced on one of the tables two weddings ago and Osamu had to bring him down. He cried five weddings prior to this one because that wedding was where his first love married someone else that wasn’t him.

Rumors said he had been sleeping around since then—Atsumu would leave an indefinite and open response but his brother, Osamu, would oppose to say that Atsumu wasn’t the type to do so; and who better to believe than his own twin?

Despite all those times you mentioned you hated seeing his face at all those weddings, you loved him. When you’re about to lose your mind, he was always there to rescue you and take you away for a bit. Whenever one of the plans goes wrong, he somehow helps you come up with an alternative thanks to his connections. He was spontaneous yet reliable and you loved having him around.

And his signature cocky grin just made you just want to kiss the corners of his lips.

With a lazy yet cocky smile, Atsumu pocketed his phone. “Why don’t we get married next? That way you can finally plan the wedding of your dreams.”

“No thank you, do you have any idea how expensive weddings are?” You answered rather too fast.

“Money won’t be a concern with me.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Suit yourself.”

Five weddings ago—the same one where he cried his heart out, you slept with Atsumu Miya. The moment his warm hands pressed themselves onto your hips almost like a cry for help, you foolishly allowed him to have his way with you. He wreaked of tears, chardonnay and red wine, cologne from Ralph Lauren, and caramel tarts that night.

There was something about the way he whispered your name instead of hers like a prayer, or how his long and thick fingers stretched you out so well, how he carefully undressed you and looked at you like you were everything he wanted, how his feverish yet impatient touch burned on your skin, how his tongue felt and tasted like caramel against yours, or how he kissed you and said that he loved you.

You left immediately after he passed out on the pale white sheets of his bed. You had no place in his life. You were merely a wedding planner and he was just one of the attendees. There wasn’t a future with the both of you together.

It wasn’t love.

It was lust.

“Are you still single?” Atsumu’s habitual greeting came as he swung the door to your office open.

“As are you.” You clicked the pen in your hand while you tried to imagine a layout for the ceremony. “The groom wanted something traditional and his bride wanted something modern… I’m thinking of gray satin—“

“This isn’t the first time we worked together, right?” He immediately plopped down on the couch of your office. From where he sat, he could see fabric samples scattered and pinned on a desk, three whiteboards that blocked the windows full of table arrangements for the reception at a garden, contact numbers listed and posted all over your window.

It was messy—but you had a system.

“No it isn’t.” You looked back at him. Miya Atsumu looked so handsome and you couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed in a white tee and jeans, it was a simple outfit yet his top accentuated his broad chest and shoulders and the jeans around his thighs—

“The first was at Oikawa’s wedding or was it at Bokuto’s or Hinata’s?”

“No it was at Bokuto’s and then at Hinata’s, then it was at Oikawa’s”

He laughed, remembering how stressed you were handling all those events in a span of a year. Atsumu wondered if you ever took breaks. You rarely asked for help and never brought your personal life onto the table.

Atsumu knew so little about you.

You waved your hand in front of his face and mentioned that he was aggressively staring off into the void—too intense for your liking. It was like he was plotting a murder or something.

He pondered about a life with you. The nation’s best wedding planner and the nation’s eligible and most desired bachelor? That would certainly be a headline or a cover for a magazine.

Would you soon be wearing that navy blue dress from five weddings ago? That was his favorite dress on you.

A smile pulled at his lips, remembering how you teared up in gratitude when he managed to pull some strings and hired another media crew to document the wedding when the one you hired decided to back out on you six hours before the event.

They owed him a favor and he wanted to help you.

When you called him your hero and embraced him so tightly, he swore his heart stopped.

He wanted you to look at him like that again; seeing as how exhausted you tend to be when planning these events, you most probably needed a partner to help you out. If he had to stop volleyball, perhaps he could run this business with you—if you would allow it.

“Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service.” Atsumu grinned to himself and locked eyes with you. “How does that sound to you?”

“If you and your brother are planning to buy my business from me, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, I was thinking of Miya,” Atsumu’s palm rested on top of his chest. “And Miya.” He then gestured over to you—fingers in your direction and palm facing upward.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion with a tinge of shock at the feeling of your cheeks burning. “What are you talking about—“

“Just painting a picture.” He leaned into the cushions of your couch. “It looks… less lonely and I see two happy people. What do you see?” There was a sound of an object breaking—or rather, crunching, behind him.

“Not a lot without my glasses.”

The professional athlete fished said object from the cushions and promised to buy you a new pair.

You waved it off.

One minute your face was so close to shriveling like a pathetic raisin within the walls of your office from stress, the next it was relishing in the soft breeze of the beach.

“What do you think?” Atsumu rolled the cuffs of his jeans above his ankles. “They loved driving to this spot every summer. This was where my brother and his girlfriend had their last date.”

He passed you the umbrella and dashed into the water, laughing like a child’s first time on the beach.

“Before he proposed?” The sand crunches under your toes. The resort nearby was owned by one of your cousins—it would make a great location for the reception.

“I think so.” He splashed the seawater your way and invited you to join him. You didn’t have the energy to scold him for dampening the cover of your planner.

You’ve seen him play on the court before. The way the lights would give him some sort of halo, his sweat glistening on his skin, the triumphant grin on his lips, the way his muscles tensed, his sharp eyes...

But to see him underneath the bright afternoon sun—it was different. Atsumu and the beach were a terrific mix. He was beautiful.

Atsumu was reliable, gentle when he wanted to be, a little crass and informal at times, judgemental, inviting, endearing, warm, smelled like autumn, safe and whatnot. There was just something alluring about him.

Setting your shoes and planner next to his, you roll up your slacks just below your calf muscle.

The setter beamed and cheered when you stepped into the waters and approached him. His hand was outstretched for you to take.

“We could have the wedding here.” He glanced at the waves foaming on the sand. “The bride really loves beaches so I believe we’d get plus points for having it here.“ He continued to ramble on about the possible arrangements.

You were too busy falling for him to remember that you were there to find a location for the ceremony and reception.

“I didn’t think wedding planning with you was going to be entertaining.” He squeezed your hands and softly placed his lips on the curves of your knuckles. “You know, my offer for Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service is still open.”

Thirty hours until the wedding.

Everything was in place, all toxic invited guests were eliminated, never went above the budget, the bride is excited to officially wear her gown and change her surname, the groom is shaking in anxiety and finally got the acceptance of his father-in-law-to-be, none of the hired staff and crew looked like they were going to back out anytime soon...

Both parties were planning to celebrate the day before the wedding and you were planning to get some rest before you were going to be overwhelmed with pressure and stress that will come in the next couple of hours.

Five months of stressing over the pressure, planning, calls, negotiations, and connections finally paid off.

Atsumu had other plans though—he wasn’t interested drowning in blinding lights and beer that day. Leaving his brother with his peers, the setter had asked you if it was alright to see you.

How could you ever oppose?

The same taunting greeting came as soon as you both locked eyes but this time, there was a hint of hope in his tone. “Are you still single?”

“Who’s asking?” You lean on your doorframe.

“Will you be wearing the same navy blue dress you wore five weddings ago?”

“Are we going to keep asking questions—wait what?” Your stomach twisted out of shock. Navy blue dress? Five weddings ago? Does he actually remember what happened?

“I wasn’t drunk that night and neither were you.” Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck, processing the mixed emotions on your face. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Were you planning to match with me tomorrow?” You could not help but smile at the way the tips of his ears burned red.

“I was.”

“Navy blue is not part of the palette, remember?”

“It should have been.”

His lips tasted like cherries that afternoon.

☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: open bedroom

☾ warnings: f!reader, mention of drinking games

☾ word count: 1.9k

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☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: closed bedroom

☾ warnings: f!reader, mildly suggestive

☾ word count: 3k

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☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: balcony

☾ warnings: f!reader, swearing, sfw shirtlessness

☾ word count: 1.6k

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☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: kitchen

☾ warnings: f!reader, alcohol mention

☾ word count: 1.5k 

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☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: hallway

☾ warnings: f!reader, alcohol mention, drug mention, sfw shirtlessness

☾ word count: 2.4k

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Akaashi Keiji - Forever be still

708 | reader-insert | Something for the hurting and the healing.

The unique dial tone Akaashi set for his very best friend had roused him from his sleep; 2:54AM flashing tiny notifications—missed calls and messages with your name.

Akaashi scrolled through the contents briefly. He was very much awake now and almost tripping over his own feet to get out of his bed as quickly as he could, grabbing his phone and the very first pieces of clothing he could find on the ground before thundering down the stairs to get to the front door.

Some nights were bad, some nights were worse, and some nights were in need of somebodies to be with. Sometimes, conversations that were hard to word had to be heard if things got too quiet. Silence could be scary, being lost in the nothing and the everything. Akaashi knew this.

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1.2k | reader-insert | Model Oikawa being your little rascal.

[suggestive content]

A/N: Please look at this wonderful fanart by ui536​. Here is their twitter as well.

Palm pressed to jaw, fingers resting against a cheekbone—the face you have in your hand is one you’ve touched and held many, many times.

Like an affectionate cat rubbing against their owner, the said face nuzzles into your touch. The small smile across his mouth sighs in content, and he blinks up at you cutely with fondness.

“Tooru,” you heave sternly. “For the last time, close your eyes.”

Oikawa’s eyes bat twice, quickly and innocently. “But I want to look at you.”

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