Akaashi Keiji x reader oneshots

Hurt for you

tw: mentions of suicide, abuse, death and self harm

warning this one is kinda angsty

(akaashi pov)

I first saw her on the train. Then I saw her at school, laughing with her friends, happy as can be. Before I knew it we became friends. Then closer. And before I knew it I'd fallen in love with her.

Before I knew it there was no other option but her.

And then I saw her everywhere. That one tree we sat and talked under, the convenience store we went to after school, the strawberry milk she always bought and her favourite barbeque chips. I saw her in the songs on my spotify playlist, in the characters of the books I read, and they were always my favourite.

I watched her silently. Watched her shine in that dazzling way she shines. The way she draws everyone to her, in that captivating way she made me fall in love with her.

And I watched her fall.

Down.

I grabbed her hand just in time, hauled her back to safety, yelled "why why why", cried, held her in my arms and sobbed.

She'd asked me why I'd saved her.

I replied "why wouldn't I?".

She sobbed in my arms then, and I sobbed with her. I cried for her, hurt for her, hurt with her. I wondered, vaguely, why she would want to do it, to end such a beautiful thing. I wondered what she went through to make her want it.

Most of all I wondered how the hell I hadn't noticed.

How in the world I, who watched her and admired her and loved her, every day, failed to notice the pain bubbling beneath the surface. I should've known, should've seen it, should've helped, should've done anything at all to make it better.

If I could've shouldered all the hurt and pain from her I would have.

(your pov)

As a kid I was always alone. While the other kids ran off the play I watched from afar. They saw my faults, the differences between our lives, they felt that chasm between us I'd never truly known how to bridge.

They were scared of the scars on my arms and the bruises on my face. Most of all they were scared of the wounds on my heart. They didn't want to touch the shattered pieces of my soul.

I wouldn't have either.

I watched, one by one, as each of my friends left me the moment I trusted them, the people I trusted turn their backs on me as I let them in.

I was always alone, even when with others I was alone, even in a room full of people I was utterly alone. I put on a mask, everyday, a mask of deception, a mask of falsehood, a mask of happiness. A mask of the one thing my world was deprived of.

The thing my family lacked.

I hid the scars, hid the bruises, hid the wounds. Replaced them with fake smiles, fake laughs, fake jokes. I gathered friends who didn't truly know me, friends who never really loved me, friends that always had someone else first before me and I was okay with that.

I was okay with knowing I was never the first choice, that I'd always be second best, that I'd never be someone's top priority.

I thought that was what I deserved.

Because how could someone like me, with all my scars and bruises and wounds, be deserving of love? How could someone that only knows hurt and pain and hatred, be deserving of love and safety and kindness?

But then I met him.

And he was my light, he became my whole world, my life centered around him, he brightened up my life, made it worth living, made the darkness bearable. And sure even he hadn't known, I'd made sure of that. But it still made it easier, to have him.

And then there was the incident.

I call it the incident because I don't want to aknowledge it's existence. Because even for someone like me, broken as I am, it was undeserved.

I've been hit many times before, by many people in many places. But this was the first time someone else had been hit to hurt me.

Mom died that day.

Something in me died that day.

I put on my mask still, pretended to be happy, went to school like normal, but inside, I was dying. The light in me had died, the fire, the fight that kept me going had flickered out, replace by a darkness darker than anything I've ever experienced before.

I had just taken the step off when I felt his hand close around my scarred wrist, when he'd brought me back to his light.

He breathed life back into me, gave me my fight, my fire, he was my drive to keep going.

I'd asked him why he'd saved me. I never believed anyone would care to help.

He replied "why wouldn't I?".

And I cried. And he cried too. He cried for me, with me, he hurt for me.

I'd never felt more loved.

dark ik

hey hey hey
ik this one was kinda different from what i usual write
a little more poetic a lil more angsty
there were some dark themes there but ykw wtv lol

i think im gonna try to do once a week posts
at least for a while to see how it goes and stuff
so im gonna be posting on sundays (no specific time it will probably be at 12am and ik technically thats monday but like idc ok im counting it as sunday)

have a good day/night💔

baibai🫶