Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2024-11-27
Words:
2,554
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
35
Kudos:
298
Bookmarks:
34
Hits:
1,645

Medals of gold could never compare (you are my greatest treasure)

Summary:

When Koutarou had first bought the ring back in March, never had he imagined that this was how it would end up on his boyfriend’s finger; in the spotlight of hundreds of cameras, half the planet watching as he pulled the chain from underneath his jersey, gold slipping into his hand.

However, standing in the middle of that arena, in the aftermath of his team's Olympic victory, the time had never felt more right.

 

Or, Bokuaka post-game proposal

Notes:

Married bokuaka is all that's been on my mind recently so I thought I'd try and actually write something for once rather than letting my ideas and concepts be only that.

This is my first fic ever, so I can't promise it'll be perfect, but I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm actually kind of proud of how it turned out lol, so please let me know what you think!

Muah muah, enjoy!!<3

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

For months now, Koutarou has kept the ring close to his chest. When he had first bought it back in March, the plan was to simply wait for the right moment to appear. To let fate take the reins without any earthly influence and let the stars align on their own. However, as time flew by, the months passing before his eyes, he found that every time the moment presented itself — a moment so picture-perfect that he felt his heart picking up its pace, beating faster and faster against his chest with every breath he took — his hand would shakily reach for the small box inside his pocket, only to find the result of his own forgetfulness, grasping at yet another opportunity lost.

It was tiring, if not incredibly discouraging, watching his chances vanish before him as he could only pray he’d be prepared for the next. However, Koutarou was nothing if not determined, and after months of quietly moving it back and forth between his pocket and where he had it hidden at the very back of their dresser, the ring had now found a home around his neck, a thin golden chain keeping it hidden underneath his shirt.

He wore it everywhere. Wherever the two of them went, the cold metal would press against his chest as a reminder of their future, a promise of what was to come. And now, sitting in the Olympic Village in Paris, even without Akaashi by his side, he had never once taken it off. Every practice, every match, every celebratory dinner with the team after surviving another day. Whether he’d be fast asleep or wide awake, the ring stayed on, worn proudly over his shirt whenever the cameras weren’t watching.

He almost forgot to tug it back in when he picked Akaashi up from the airport, just twenty-four hours before Ryujin Nippon would play in the finals.

Over the past two weeks, Koutarou had been practically glued to his phone, using whatever little spare time he had on call with his boyfriend. Although, despite his best efforts, the timeframe they were given was slim, with Tokyo being a full eight hours ahead and Koutarou’s practice taking up most of his days. So they’d take whatever they could get. Koutarou lived for the little moments like that, his lover’s voice, albeit slightly distorted over the lesser quality of the microphone, just as addictive as it had always been. He cherished each and every call they had, well-knowing that their hours were limited, however, nothing could compare to the one he received after advancing to the finals.

Following their win in the semi-finals, his amazing boyfriend had called him, announcing that he’d be on the earliest flight to Paris the following morning, wanting to be there in person when Japan brought home the gold. Koutarou had first laughed when he had said that, yet he quickly realised that Akaashi was very much not joking, resulting in an angered Atsumu Miya knocking down his door at two AM, threatening to file a noise complaint if he didn't shut up.

Atsumu would later come to eat his words as his screams were the first to be heard when the last ball was spiked to the floor.

Japan had won.

And the ring had never felt heavier around Koutarou’s neck.

When he had first bought it back in March, never had he imagined that this was how it would end up on his boyfriend’s finger. However, as the final whistle blew, his vision blurred with unshed tears as he was knocked to the floor by a swarm of red-clad bodies, never before had the time felt more right.

It was dizzying. His ears were ringing in the medley of a thousand screaming voices, surrounding him from all angles as the muffled announcement of Japan’s victory sounded from the speakers above. Yet amidst all the chaos, his mind stood clearer than ever. And right there, just for a moment, Koutarou swore he heard Akaashi's voice from across the arena. And the athlete was on his feet before he even knew it, his eyes hastily scanning over the stands, freezing when they finally landed on what he had been searching for.

He had snuck glimpses of Akaashi throughout the entire game, his eyes drawn to him as if magnetised, golden honey finding deep teal after every service ace, every cross and line shot, desperate for the approval of the man whose opinion he valued more than anything else. Now was no different, and locking teary eyes from where he still stood on wobbly legs in the middle of the court, Koutarou moved as if on autopilot, sprinting towards the sidelines to the best of his shell-shocked abilities, watching as his boyfriend pushed past spectators and reporters, seemingly just as desperate to reach him.

And for the second time that night, Koutarou felt the punch of a body colliding with his own, his arms, although heavy from athletic abuse, wrapping around Akaashi’s middle in a crushing embrace, his face buried in the crook of the younger’s neck as a low sob tore from his throat.

For just a moment, everything around them seemed to fade away. Every echoing voice, every click of a camera shutter, none of it mattered when all he ever wanted was right in front of him. As slim fingers carded through his sweat-soaked hair, words of adoration and praise whispered against his temple, Koutarou couldn’t find himself to care about anything else. He didn’t care who saw. Be it a single person or half of the planet. Right then and there, he and Akaashi were the only two people in the world.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

The words were so simple, yet still, they managed to push the spiker past his limit, the tears he had otherwise tried so hard to suppress finally spilling. He sniffled, laughing softly as he raised his head from his boyfriend’s shoulder, his grip loosening just enough for them to face each other without bumping noses. The arms around his neck loosened as well, softer hands brushing black and white bangs out of his face before settling against his cheeks, thumbs wiping away the wetness. And Koutarou couldn’t help himself, leaning into the touch, his own hand raising to rest against his lover’s, lips hot against Akaashi’s palm before pressing softly against his forehead.

“You were incredible, Kou,” he said, every syllable dripping with molasses as they fell from his lips, and through watering eyes, Koutarou could see how Akaashi’s glasses had begun fogging at the bottom of the frames. “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”

The hands cupping his cheeks had fallen to his shoulders, fingers toying with the collar of his jersey, and with a single brush against gold, every fibre of Koutarou’s being froze, hands gently squeezing at Akaashi’s sides with the reminder of what still lay hidden under the fabric. A question unspoken, resting heavily on Koutarou’s tongue with a familiar taste.

Fuck, okay, he was really going to do this.

“Hopefully ‘yes’.“

His hands were trembling as they reached behind his neck, fumbling clumsily with the lock of the chain as Akaashi could only stare in confusion, his eyes darting across the athlete’s face in search of an answer. Koutarou could hear his name being called from his teammates still standing on the court, however, their calls fell deaf to his ears, the man in front of him currently occupying all of his unwavering attention.

And Koutarou felt his heart skip a beat when the clasp finally unfastened, the metal pressing dents into his fingertips from the pressure as he pulled the chain from his jersey, letting the ring slip off and into his hand.

“You won't believe how long I’ve been carrying this,” he chuckled, smiling softly when Akaashi’s puzzled expression morphed to one of astonishment, eyes blown wide as realisation finally kicked in, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“I wanted to wait for the right moment,” he confessed, pale pink dusting over his cheeks as he reached for the other’s hand, lacing their fingers together by the first brush of knuckles. “I wanted it to be perfect because there is nothing you deserve more than to be swept off your feet. And I swear, there have been days where I really thought that moment had finally come, but—” He paused, catching his breath with a light squeeze at the hand in his own.

“Keiji, every moment that I’ve been lucky enough to spend with you has been nothing less than perfect.” It was honestly a miracle how he was still standing. He had figured his legs would have given in by now, knees buckling, sending him straight to the floor, yet there he was. Still on his feet, although hanging on by a fraying thread.

And he could see how Akaashi was barely holding it together as well, his bottom lip quivering, jaw clenched, lashes damp and darkened. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Ever since I met you, you have been nothing but supportive of me. Whether it was a childish dream or a life-changing decision, you have always been in my corner backing me up, sticking with me no matter what. Through high school, in college, long distance, you’ve always been there to cheer me on, to guide me, to bring me back when everything seemed just a bit too hopeless. And despite everything, you’ve continued to love me, regardless of all the troubles I have brought.

So I think it’s about time I show you how much I truly love you because god damn it Keiji, I love you so fucking much.”

It wasn’t often that Akaashi would cry. Out of the two of them, Koutarou had always been the more emotional one, the younger often finding himself with a comforting hand rubbing circles on his boyfriend’s back, even as his mood swings with time had lessened. But standing in the middle of that arena, watching in silent awe, hand clutched tightly in a warm palm as his love poured out his heart, he knew there was no stopping the tears from falling.

"You are the reason I am the man I am today,” Koutarou said, a familiar sting returning to his eyes as the sound of soft sniffles and shaky exhales filled his ears. “You are the reason I wake up every day with a smile on my face, the reason for my passion, the reason I keep trying no matter what the odds may be because you make me feel invincible. Like I can do anything so long as I have you by my side.”

For a moment, all Koutarou could do was smile, his gaze filled with nothing but love and adoration, watching as Akaashi helplessly wiped the tears from his face, glasses knocked adorably askew on the bridge of his nose. He sighed, short and quick through his nose as he brought their hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Akaashi’s knuckles before letting the words flow once more.

“You are my entire world, Ji,” he said, a slight tremble latching onto his voice as he spoke, the taste of salt dancing across his tongue when a stray tear caught the corner of his lips. “I love you more than words can express, and being with you, being able to call you mine, it means more to me than any medal ever could.”

He could feel himself starting to choke up. From the moment Akaashi had first stepped into his life, Koutarou had known with every piece of his soul that he was going to spend the rest of his days loving him. That this was the man he wanted to build a future with. He remembered all those nights in college when the thought of lazy mornings in a shared bed would keep him sleepless, the idea of waking up to a warm body pressed against his side for the rest of his life seeming almost unrealistic in the solitude of his dorm. But as tears trickled down his face, the harsh lights from the court reflecting in the gold between his fingers, that dream of forever had never seemed closer. And so, with a final deep breath, he seized the opportunity for the last time.

“You were my first love. It has always been you, and I want it to be you for the rest of my life so— ”

With their fingers still intertwined, Koutarou dropped to the floor on one knee, his heart soaring as he heard the arena gasp before it erupted. He was pretty sure his teammates were among the loudest.

“Akaashi Keiji,” he began, and although shielded by the back of a porcelain hand, he could see the way the corners of dark blue eyes wrinkled in a smile, cheeks stained with crimson fluster.

“Nothing would make me happier than having you as my husband.” Akaashi sniffled, a quiet sob being masked by tearful laughter as Koutarou gave his fingers another squeeze. And with a million eyes watching his every move, the question finally left the spiker’s lips.

“Will you please marry me?”

His ears rang with the screams around him, his whole body feeling light and fuzzy, mind running a hundred miles an hour watching Akaashi try and regain control over his breathing, hiccups filling his lungs as he rapidly nodded his head, dark curls bouncing with the movement.

“Yes.” His voice was raw with emotion, small and weak and almost inaudible over the roaring crowd in the background, yet still, he managed to force out a reply. For a second, Koutarou thought his heart might have stopped entirely. In all their years of intimacy, never once had he doubted that Akaashi loved him back, such declarations whispered like a ritual against his lips in the soft glow of early mornings. It was often in moments like these where the mention of marriage would find its way into conversation, with their limbs tangled under wrinkled bed sheets and a delicate finger tracing endless patterns across his skin. But there was a difference between discussing and actually doing. So when he at long last finally got an answer, Koutarou almost thought it too good to be true.

“Yeah?” he breathed, hopeful and with a small nod as if urging his lover for final reassurance, his face lighting up with a near-blinding smile tugging at his lips, its shine rivalling that of the stars themselves.

And with a smile mirroring Koutarou’s, Akaashi nodded back, the words leaving his lips in a broken rasp. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Kou.”

For months now, Koutarou had fantasised about this moment, dreams of soft lips forming around those very words proving to be all-consuming, however, nothing could have prepared him for the rush of adrenaline that came with the real thing. He was on his feet in seconds, ring clutched tightly in his fist as he threw his arms around a slim waist, laughter filling his ears when he lifted his fiancé from the floor, spinning him in circles before warm lips met his own with fervour, kissing him as if starved, desperation etched into every hum of satisfaction.

God, how Koutarou could not wait to kiss those lips for the rest of his life.