a drunken bokuto (who cannot handle sugary liquor) confesses the depth of his feelings to you — for @cowboylo from nique's server because we talked it about for 2 messages and suddenly, i was inspired — and yes this is a fluff bomb
bokuto koutarou could do a lot of things, but what he couldn't do was handle his liquor. especially if it was sugary. even more so if he was at a karoake bar with friends and you, hands on a mic and the room echoing his delighted rendition of feel this moment.
he laughed delightedly, downing yet another shot of something you couldn't even decipher before handing the mic off to akaashi. the room was chattering, everyone arguing over what song was meant to come next, but bokuto's eyes, warm and golden, stayed firmly on you.
"how was that?" he grinned excitedly, sitting right beside you on the booth. an arm of his slid up behind you to rest on the sill of the booth. he didn't touch you, not directly, but he was close enough for you to feel his warmth.
"passionate," you giggled, reaching over to sip some water. "you should probably drink some of this. all that sugar is going to go straight to your head."
"what do you mean?" he asked offensively, face contorting in absolute offense while he, despite that offense, took the glass from your hands. "i can handle my liquor just fine! i'm a volleyball player! i work out! hinata can barely stay sober!"
"untrue," hinata shouted from across the room, "i handle my liquor much better than he does."
you stifled a giggle while bokuto downed the glass of water like a shot. or a very tall glass of seltzer. he exhaled, setting the glass down and shifting impercptibly closer to you.
"you know," he said, eyes bright and lips curved into the toothiest smile, "i was so happy when you came to the game the other day. i looked for you in the stands and you were right there! and everyone asked me if you were mine and i had such a hard time saying no, so i said maybe someday, and then they asked me why and—"
"woah woah woah!" you giggled, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "lets start from the top. i came to your game. then?"
"then some members of the other team asked me about you."
"why?"
"easy. because i was so excited! i said i wanted to score some cool points so you'd see me and you'd be impressed. then they asked me what we are."
"and what did you tell them?"
he grinned even more, placing a gentle hand on your thigh as he leaned forward just a bit. "that i like you and have the biggest crush on you EVER."
you paused, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. "you mean that?"
"yes!" bokuto laughed, "yes i mean it. i came to karaoke because akaashi said you'd be here and i wanted to spend time with you. i told him that i was going to ask you out on a date."
"really now?" you flushed.
"yes," he nodded earnestly. "I like you. a lot. i want you at every match and i also want to date and go out and have a fun time. could we do that?"
"we can if you remember this conversation tomorrow," you smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "ask me tomorrow when you're sober, and it's a yes."
"why not right now?" he pouted. his lips turned downwards, eyebrows contorting confusedly. to him, it was as if youd delayed the payout of a jackpot.
"because you're drunk," you sighed. "ask me tomorrow."
"i'll ask you first thing tomorrow!" he laughed.
bonus: you woke up to your phone ringing at 6am, bokuto's special ringtone filling the air of your bedroom. you shifted gently, answering the call only to have his bright voice filling your ears.
"koutarou," you mumbled sleepily, "'s so early. what is it?"
"i may or may not have a headache," he began, "but you told me that if i remembered in the morning and i was sober, you'd go out with me! so, will you go out with me?"
you laughed into your pillow, a warm fondness spreading in your chest. "yes kou," you responded into the line, the smile creeping into your voice. "we can go out."
a loud "WAHOOOO!" erupted through your room before he remembered what time it was and hung up. you smiled into your sheets, knowing that when you woke up for real, he'd already have ideas for your first date.
FIRST OF ALL SHOUT OUT TO DA AWESOMEST PROOFREADERS IN DA WORLD @karnevil AND @cowboylo LOVE YALL MUAWW
MDNI🔞‼️‼️
Cw: smut no real plot, osamu da eater, p in v, (nothing else idk)
Wc: 1.2k
Smut under cut!!!
Osamu saddles you and leans down; his hands grip your stomach, caressing you with his thumbs. His lips meet yours in a fiery kiss full of unspoken words of passion and love.
His hands, oh, his big hands, calloused from years of volleyball and onigiri-making, grip the back of your head, tangle into your hair, deepen your kiss. You moan at the contact, and he eats it up while biting your lip asking for permission to go further. You open your mouth a sliver, and he chuckles, plunging his tongue into your mouth undoing you further.
His other hand crawls lower, toying with the hem of your shirt before gripping your hip and sliding up to cup your breast. His thumb toys with your nipple, giving it a light squeeze. You startle at the contact before bucking your hips up into his, chasing further connection.
He pulls away from the kiss with a groan,
“Yer an impatient one aren’t ya,” he smirks and tugs at your shirt, “gotta get this off b’fore the fun starts.”
You sit up with a quickness, ripping your shirt off and throwing to the floor, leaving you in your panties.
He takes a quick look before leaning down and sucking hickeys onto your boob. Osamu nips lightly at your nipple, before he moves downward, pressing light kisses along your stomach. He stops his hands, links onto the sides of your panties and pulls them down, slowly. You let out an involuntary shiver of excitement as his thumb brushed against your inner thigh.
Panties finally off, he grips your thighs with little resistance and you link your legs behind his neck, pulling him closer to your core.
“Yer so nice n’ wet for me, baby,” he chuckles, the exhale hitting your wet and waiting clit.
He presses a slight kiss against your clit before opening his mouth and sucking your sweet spot. You let out a loud moan before gripping his hair, pressing him further into you.
“Ngh, ‘Samu, please… want you so bad.” He lets out an amused huff before pulling back, “Gotta prepare ya first, hun.”
He gives your clit one last kiss before plunging a finger into you, curling it before pulling it out slowly, repeating his actions. You squeeze around his fingers, begging for more as he inserts a second finger, his big fingers stretching you out.
He picks up his pace, finger fucking you as you become undone beneath him. “Please, ‘Samu, please, I’m so close,” you let out incoherent pleas as he rubs circles into your clit. You let out a scream as you cum all over his hands. He pumps into you a few more times before he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips. “Ya taste wonderful.”
You pant, coming down from your high. Your eyes fall downward as you look lower and ogle at his bulge—how it was pressing deliciously into his sweatpants. It looks painful how erect he is. You could almost drool imagining how it would feel to have him in your mouth, as he becomes a moaning mess under you.
He follows your eyes before chuckling, “‘nother time, wanna be inside you.” You clench hearing that, before nodding, watching him pull his sweatpants and boxers off. He shifts forward holding his dick in his hand before pressing it to your core. He lets it slip before rubbing it onto your clit. You moan looking at him with pleading eyes. Just the weight alone felt heavenly.
He looks into your eyes as he pushes in, kissing you heatedly as you both moan into each other’s mouths. He pulls away from the kiss as he pushes in inch by inch, watching you closely for any sign of pain or discomfort. Your eyes shut tightly, a puddle of pleasure as he stretches you deliciously. He holds still as he bottoms out. “Oh, ‘Samu, ngh, please!”
Your hands reach towards his biceps, gripping them tightly. Once solid but softened from years of taste testing and love were now gripped, so tightly, and being scratched by your nails.
He closes his eyes tightly and grunts. You feel so good, squeezing him so tight he could cum right there just from entering you.
He pulls out slightly, his ears eating up your delicious yips and moans before pushing himself back into you. “Please, ‘Samu, harder.” You beg, pleading. You want—no, need more.
“If ya say so.” He pulls out almost completely, just the tip resting inside you before pushing back in with a sharp plap!. He leans forward, hugging and pulling you forward before kissing you. His stomach presses to you with every snap of his hips, ripping moan after moan out of you.
God, he loved you so much, oh god. You made him feel so good, oh so good, he couldn’t help but want to stay in you forever: each thrust, each shiver, all for you. He was yours, his soul was yours, god, oh god, you didn’t know how wrapped around your finger he was.
His thrusts grow quicker but sloppier as he nears his climax. He pulls away from the kiss, your lips puffy and covered in spit to him. You look ethereal, undone like this from his doing. “Fuck, yer so perfect, so fucking perfect; all mine, dear, all mine.”
You grip him tighter, oh fuck, what that did to you. “FUCK, ‘Samu, all yours, all yours. Please! ‘M close.” You felt so good, so, so good, like there was a coil tightening in your core. His thrusts grew quicker, he was so close. “Where d’ya want it? Hm?” His voice, shaky. “Please, ‘Samu! Inside, please!!”
You cum so hard it almost hurts, screaming his name as you grip his hair hard, earning a grunt from him in response. His thrusts grew even sloppier and harder. His hips stutter, and he cums, filling you up. You feel warm, full, and happy as his hips press firmly to yours, his stomach resting against you as you both panted heavily. You stare into his eyes with nothing short of love in your gaze.
He pulls out slowly, a mix of each other’s cum spilling out. You whined as he got up.
“Gonna clean ya up, darlin’.” He pulls his boxers on and slips into the bathroom before returning a washcloth. He presses a quick kiss to your temple, then wipes you off before laying back down.
He pulls you close, your head on his chest, arms wrapped tightly against his stomach. “Love you, ‘Samu.”
He smiled, “Love ya too.”
~~~
Extra:
The next morning, Osamu got up to a sound in the living room. He pulled you off as gently as he could before walking out of the room, alarmed. He rounded the corner ready to jump someone before being confronted with a sight worse (in his opinion) than a burglar. Atsumu standing in your (his) kitchen.
“The fuck ‘r ya doin here?” He turned around and rubbed his temple, not in the mood to deal with his twin.
Atsumu turns to defend himself before spotting the scratches down his brother's arms and back, “I—well well, ya were busy, huh? Would’ve seen my messages otherwise.”
Osamu huffs turning red at being caught, “Shut up and leave.”
IN WHICH — the only thing thats stopping you from quitting your job at the JVA is your sexy boss, kuroo
EXTRA — crack, fluff, 4 years age gap, burned out reader, based on this request
A/N — this one is dedicated to all my employed friends, especially eme (@lovedlorned) who’ll finally quit on july 12th, lets all give her a round of applause 🤞🥳🥳‼️
cameos: navi (@milkbread11); astra (@karnevil); maddy (@cowboylo)
(yes, the title is a mitski song. i thought it was funny)
the local arcade has a claw machine filled with ridiculous, giant plush round owls that look exactly like bokuto when he’s sulking. you’ve already wasted five hundred yen trying to grab one, and the plastic claw just dropped the toy for the fourth time.
bokuto is standing right next to you, his face pressed flat against the glass of the machine, his hands clenched into fists against the metal trim.
“the claw is weak!” he growls, his thick brows knitted together so sharply they almost meet. “it lacks spirit! it has no follow-through on the swing! let me fight it, y/n!”
“you can’t fight a machine, kōtarō.”
“watch me!”
he grabs the joystick, slamming his palm against the big red button with a force that makes the entire cabinet rattle. the claw descends, grabs the owl by the wing, lifts it two inches—and drops it right back onto the pile.
bokuto’s entire frame instantly collapses. the proud, spiked hair seems to droop visually, his shoulders slumping until he looks a head shorter than he actually is. his signature dejection mode hits like a physical wave. without a single word, he turns around, slides down the front of the arcade cabinet until he’s sitting flat on the dirty floor tiles, and hides his face in his knees.
“hey,” you smile, sliding down to sit next to him, bumping your shoulder against his arm. “it’s fine. we can try again next week.”
bokuto doesn’t look up, but his left hand shoots out from his knees like a striking snake. his large, calloused fingers wrap firmly around your wrist, pulling your arm down until your hand is resting flat against his thigh. he squeezes your fingers tightly, his palm warm and trembling just a tiny bit with a sudden, childish need.
“i wanted to win it for you,” he mutters into his knees, his voice small and pathetic. “i wanted you to have a giant owl so you could think of me when i’m at practice. if i can’t even beat a plastic claw, i’m a terrible boyfriend.”
you let out a soft laugh, reaching over with your free hand to ruffle his messy hair. “kōtarō, up. won’t you look at me?”
he peeks up through his silver bangs, his golden eyes wide and blinking. the second you lean over and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead, his entire system completely reboots. his hair practically snaps back into its upright position, a bright, sudden crimson flush flooding his face from his throat to his ears. he lets out a loud, triumphant shout, grabbing your waist and pulling you right into his lap in the middle of the arcade. “ONE MORE TOKEN!” he yells, his face glowing. “i’m unstoppable now!”
n: wouh, i think quack requested this 🤔 @brooksviolin
Summary: You and Kuroo were high school sweethearts, but high school sweethearts never make it. Unless maybe they have a chance encounter at a club years after they broke up?
wc: 2.5k
Content tags: alcohol mention, some profanity, some angst, breakups, implied female reader
18+ in future chapters, this one is fairly tame tho!
ao3 link
“Girl.” Michimiya teased as the two of you sipped on some coffee together in your kitchen. You stared at the murky brown void, swirling the cup around in your hands, before taking a big gulp. “I never thought you would stop crying when he broke things off. He was such a prick about it, too. I couldn’t believe he would be so damn cold. And now you’re gonna let him smooth talk his way back into your life?”
“Trust me, I know. I don’t know why I agreed, he just seemed so genuine. He just kept talking, and half of it didn’t even make sense. Plus, it’s been so long, we’re both adults. I don’t think anything will happen.”
“I mean sure, maybe he doesn’t have any other intentions. But I don’t want to see you get hurt, babe.” Her expression softened as she reached and placed her hand on your wrist.
“You can kill me if I end up in his bed or something.”
“Can you say that again so I can record it?” Yui smiled for the first time since Kuroo was brought up.
“I love you, you know that?” You smiled back at her before polishing off the remainder of your coffee and slipping away to put the mug in the sink. Yui blew you a kiss as you made your way to your room.
Unfortunately for his grand reconciliation plans, Kuroo's ass was still blocked. With slight hesitation, you grabbed your phone off your nightstand and swiped to the settings app, landing on the “blocked contacts” section. The only contact in there read: “tetsu ♥”. The same as the day you blocked him. You sighed as you clicked the unblock contact button and swiped to text him.
you
sup
Almost immediately, three dots popped up ready for a response.
tetsu ♥
YO
damn, finally unblocked lmao
you
not for long
tetsu ♥
rude lol
You left him on read, just to see where he would steer the conversation without prodding it along.
tetsu ♥
anyways, could I take you for coffee or something? you free this morning? idk how long ill be in town for, so we should meet up today i think.
you
i already had coffee
tetsu ♥
ugh, kay. lunch?
you
alright, sounds good
tetsu ♥
you still at your old place?
you
yup
tetsu ♥
bet, ill pick u up at noon
Your eyes linger on the messages, darting between words, before you click into his contact and change his name to simply “kuroo.” You sit on the edge of your bed, still blinking at the phone in hand, and you click to turn it off.
The alarm clock on the side of your bed ticks onward, signaling every second you get closer to having a conversation with Kuroo. The clock blinked back in bright red numbers: 10:00. Shit. Your hair was still caught up in the tangles from the night before, mascara clumped and clinging to your lids like gum on a shoe. Your head still pounded from the alcohol’s residuals, the coffee hardly helping.
Your feet dragged you to the bathroom, catching a final glimpse of your disheveled appearance, before stepping into the shower. The hot water hits your skin with a comfortable sting. You worked the soap along your body, removing the traces of last night from it. Creeping in like an unwanted pest, your mind shifts to your lunch plans. Is this really just lunch? Other thoughts follow in line. Kuroo on the TV. Why wasn’t he on the court playing? Kuroo at the bar. He’s thought about me?
You shake your head, hoping to reset your brain and turn it away from Kuroo. It doesn’t work, if anything, it only makes you more aware of him.
The way he looked last night slips back into your mind without the ability to stop it. His thick arms work their hold around your brain. The same arms that never reached for his phone when you spent weeks trying to connect. Your mind moves from his arms to the small amount of skin to skin at the bar. The subtle grabbing of your wrist, wishing he would have grabbed more. The thought made your stomach twist. Your cheeks flushed as you finished in the shower, stepping out and roughly drying your hair, trying to scrub the fighting thoughts out of your head. He was sweet and uncharacteristically shy the night before. And so much hotter. It would've been easier if he'd shown up looking like the asshole you'd spent years imagining. You’re supposed to hate him.
Coffee. You need more coffee. Maybe still hungover? You’re sick. Definitely sick.
You sigh as you slip on a comfortable outfit, not quite ready yet to face Kuroo and make your way to the kitchen. Your hands go through the motions anyway, pulling the grounds out, grabbing a mug, and brewing a fresh cup.
You bring it to your room, setting it besides the ensemble of makeup and brushes still scattered from yesterday. Grabbing the concealer, applying foundation, putting on a fresh coat of mascara. Just like the coffee, you take it step by step. If you just keep moving, maybe your mind won’t wander back.
You finish off your face and put on a more appropriate outfit for going out. Jeans and your favorite tee-shirt. You smiled back at yourself in the mirror, feeling pretty accomplished despite the state you came home in. You reach to check the time, but as if on cue your phone buzzed.
kuroo
omw!! :)
you
okay, see you soon.
The silence that suddenly made itself known in the room was broken by the tapping of your foot against the floor. You focus on the consistent rhythm, attempting to keep your heart at a normal pace.
Ugh, couldn’t he run a little late. Just once.
Within a couple of minutes, three quick knocks sound throughout the apartment.
Your eyes dart to the mirror, getting in one more quick glance. Good enough. You drag yourself to the front entrance, drawing a quick breath in as you stand at the door. Your hand lingers on the knob before finally twisting it open.
“Hey!” Kuroo immediately cuts through any awkward silence before it has a chance to settle. “Ready to go?”
He flashed you a grin.
Your eyes meet his smile and they begin to trace the man at your door. He wore a fitted tee shirt under a red jacket and light-wash jeans. The outfit was simple, yet somehow it only highlighted everything unfair about him.
As if sensing your stare, Kuroo meets your eyes and a subtle smile pulls at his lips.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” You reply with a sigh, and a slight flush starts to bloom across your cheeks.
“Took you long enough to respond,” his stupid grin remains firm on his face. “Let’s go!” He turns to walk away, trusting you’ll follow behind.
—
Kuroo pauses right outside of your apartment.
“So, I thought we could go to the ramen shop, the one right by your place.” He turns to study your face. “You still like it there?”
Like it there? You recall going there and sobbing into a bowl of ramen right after the breakup. Or heading there when you got your first big job after polishing off a bottle of sake with Michimiya. It was like your second home, packed with memories you don’t really know how to categorize.
“Oh sure,” you let out. “I still go there, actually.” The sting of the former memory still lingering in the back of your mind.
“Okay, perfect. Let’s go there.”
The walk is short, only a block. Your footsteps fall into sync with his without either of you trying.
“So,” Kuroo cuts the silence. “What’s new?”
You let out a small laugh at how painfully normal the question is. His cheeks tint pink for a second, like he’s aware of it too.
“Just work. The usual bullshit. You know how it is.”
“Actually, I do know how it is,” he huffs out a small laugh. “I got an office job.” His reply makes you glance at him again. So, he really didn’t go pro?
“Really? What’re you up to in an office?” Your words slip out with a hint of shock behind them.
“It’s still volleyball, don’t worry.” He shrugs and chuckles with his answer. “I’m in the sports promotion division of the Japan Volleyball Association.”
“Of course you are.” You smile as you think about how he brought you into volleyball fandom with his own infectious love of it.
Neither of you speak much more. Despite the quiet, the atmosphere feels oddly comfortable and by the time you realize it, Kuroo is pulling a door open. His hands gesture you to walk in first, and he lets the door close behind you two.
Your legs take you over to your usual spot, right by the window. The shop owner calls your name as you pass, and you answer with a quick wave and a smile, the routine you’ve established over countless visits. Kuroo slides the chair out for you to sit and takes his own seat across from you.
“Wow, look at you, Miss Famous.” Kuroo’s grin pulls at his lips. For the first time in a while, you take him in properly. The midday light spills through the window, casting his eyes in a warm glow. They turned amber at the edges, softening the color. Your stomach stirred with uninvited butterflies at the sight of them.
“Oh, please,” you snort. “Says you. I saw you on the big screen the other day after the MSBY game.” His lips were still harboring the grin but slowly shifted into a larger smile.
“Oh ho ho, you’ve been stalking me?” He teases with a slight eyebrow wiggle. Your eyes roll back in your head, but your smirk gives you away.
“No, I’ve just been watching the local games. Not everything is about you.” You come off playfully stern, but the familiarity of the conversation chips away at the wall you’ve been struggling to keep up since you saw him.
“I’m surprised you kept up with volleyball all this time.” His eyes crinkle at each corner as he looks at you.
“Well, yeah. It’s a fun sport.” You say, offering a small smile.
The owner shuffles over, cutting into the banter. You both order, the moment settling into a brief pause of motion before it slides easily back to the two of you again.
“So, what’s got you leaving town again?” You ask.
“Oh, yeah.” Kuroo leans slightly back in his seat. “I’m travelling around for a promotion idea I want to do with the JVA. A big game with all the best players. I want to invite them personally.” He gestures vaguely as he speaks, like he can already see the game playing out somewhere beyond the window.
“Ah,” you say softly. “I see. Is this promotion why you’re here?” Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt, tugging and twisting at the fabric.
“Actually, no. I still live in Tokyo.” He looks back at you, eyebrows almost imperceptibly raised. So slight, you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking so intently. His eyes flicker down to your fidgeting hands.
“Oh.”
The accumulation of information came suddenly crashing down, collapsing the mental image of Kuroo that’s built up throughout the years. You assumed he’d move on to greener pastures. Maybe gone pro, moved to a new country for volleyball. Instead, he’s been here in the same city. You could’ve crossed paths a hundred times, yet somehow you didn’t.
Quick as ever, the owner slips in and sets the two bowls in front of you. You both give your thanks to him before he disappears once more. The steam and rich scents of garlic and veggies from the ramen swirl up into the air. For a moment, it gives you something else to focus on.
You almost don’t notice it, but Kuroo looks directly at you as he says, “Looks as good as I remember.”
You both reach for the cup of chopsticks at the same time; his hand barely grazes your skin. The contact lasts for less than a second, but the warmth sticks to your hand. It’s like your body is subconsciously trying to commit the feeling to memory. Kuroo immediately pulls back and waits for you to get what you need, color coming to the surface of his cheeks.
The two of you eat in silence for a bit, just enjoying the shared meal. You stare into the broth as you eat. The familiar flavor drudges up the past, the way certain senses tend to elicit emotion before your brain can catch up. The night you came here, right after the call. The memory clashes with the current moment.
You break first and ask, “Can I get something off my chest?”
His head jerks up back at you, gaze flipping between each eye. “Go right ahead.” His hand comes up from the ramen to gesture towards you.
“When we broke up, you were pretty cold. It just... wasn’t you. Even now, you’ve been nothing but kind when I’m practically a stranger. I’m just really confused by you.” You let out. It’s been the center of your inner turmoil all morning, might as well rip the Band-Aid off at some point.
He drew a sharp breath in and stared at you. You shifted in your seat, eyes pulling away from his face, unable to hold the eye contact.
“Good thing for you, I’ve thought about this a lot,” he let out a dry humorless laugh, breaking his eye contact. “I thought I was being smart. But looking back it was kinda stupid. I convinced myself that it would be easier if you hated me. Like a clean break or something.” His eyes drop to the table. “My priorities were all out of whack, but I wish I let you in more.” His glaze slowly finds its way back to your face.
“Kuroo…” You’re not even sure where to begin, but you do. “Why the hell would I have wanted you to hurt me like that? I know we were in high school and all but... I loved you.” Your face scrunches up as you speak, tears daring to prick your eyes. Kuroo leans back, eyes widening, just a fraction.
“I really loved you, too,” he says quietly. “Like I said, I was stupid. I wish I could take it all back. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I really am.”
“I wish I knew what to say. I mean, I got over it eventually. But I’m glad you never hated me.” A smile tugged at your lips, competing with the tears that found themselves rolling down your cheeks.
Summary: You and Kuroo were high school sweethearts, but high school sweethearts never make it. Unless maybe they have a chance encounter at a club years after they broke up?
wc: 2.5k
Content tags: alcohol mention, some profanity, some angst, breakups, implied female reader
18+ in future chapters, this one is fairly tame tho!
ao3 link
“Girl.” Michimiya teased as the two of you sipped on some coffee together in your kitchen. You stared at the murky brown void, swirling the cup around in your hands, before taking a big gulp. “I never thought you would stop crying when he broke things off. He was such a prick about it, too. I couldn’t believe he would be so damn cold. And now you’re gonna let him smooth talk his way back into your life?”
“Trust me, I know. I don’t know why I agreed, he just seemed so genuine. He just kept talking, and half of it didn’t even make sense. Plus, it’s been so long, we’re both adults. I don’t think anything will happen.”
“I mean sure, maybe he doesn’t have any other intentions. But I don’t want to see you get hurt, babe.” Her expression softened as she reached and placed her hand on your wrist.
“You can kill me if I end up in his bed or something.”
“Can you say that again so I can record it?” Yui smiled for the first time since Kuroo was brought up.
“I love you, you know that?” You smiled back at her before polishing off the remainder of your coffee and slipping away to put the mug in the sink. Yui blew you a kiss as you made your way to your room.
Unfortunately for his grand reconciliation plans, Kuroo's ass was still blocked. With slight hesitation, you grabbed your phone off your nightstand and swiped to the settings app, landing on the “blocked contacts” section. The only contact in there read: “tetsu ♥”. The same as the day you blocked him. You sighed as you clicked the unblock contact button and swiped to text him.
you
sup
Almost immediately, three dots popped up ready for a response.
tetsu ♥
YO
damn, finally unblocked lmao
you
not for long
tetsu ♥
rude lol
You left him on read, just to see where he would steer the conversation without prodding it along.
tetsu ♥
anyways, could I take you for coffee or something? you free this morning? idk how long ill be in town for, so we should meet up today i think.
you
i already had coffee
tetsu ♥
ugh, kay. lunch?
you
alright, sounds good
tetsu ♥
you still at your old place?
you
yup
tetsu ♥
bet, ill pick u up at noon
Your eyes linger on the messages, darting between words, before you click into his contact and change his name to simply “kuroo.” You sit on the edge of your bed, still blinking at the phone in hand, and you click to turn it off.
The alarm clock on the side of your bed ticks onward, signaling every second you get closer to having a conversation with Kuroo. The clock blinked back in bright red numbers: 10:00. Shit. Your hair was still caught up in the tangles from the night before, mascara clumped and clinging to your lids like gum on a shoe. Your head still pounded from the alcohol’s residuals, the coffee hardly helping.
Your feet dragged you to the bathroom, catching a final glimpse of your disheveled appearance, before stepping into the shower. The hot water hits your skin with a comfortable sting. You worked the soap along your body, removing the traces of last night from it. Creeping in like an unwanted pest, your mind shifts to your lunch plans. Is this really just lunch? Other thoughts follow in line. Kuroo on the TV. Why wasn’t he on the court playing? Kuroo at the bar. He’s thought about me?
You shake your head, hoping to reset your brain and turn it away from Kuroo. It doesn’t work, if anything, it only makes you more aware of him.
The way he looked last night slips back into your mind without the ability to stop it. His thick arms work their hold around your brain. The same arms that never reached for his phone when you spent weeks trying to connect. Your mind moves from his arms to the small amount of skin to skin at the bar. The subtle grabbing of your wrist, wishing he would have grabbed more. The thought made your stomach twist. Your cheeks flushed as you finished in the shower, stepping out and roughly drying your hair, trying to scrub the fighting thoughts out of your head. He was sweet and uncharacteristically shy the night before. And so much hotter. It would've been easier if he'd shown up looking like the asshole you'd spent years imagining. You’re supposed to hate him.
Coffee. You need more coffee. Maybe still hungover? You’re sick. Definitely sick.
You sigh as you slip on a comfortable outfit, not quite ready yet to face Kuroo and make your way to the kitchen. Your hands go through the motions anyway, pulling the grounds out, grabbing a mug, and brewing a fresh cup.
You bring it to your room, setting it besides the ensemble of makeup and brushes still scattered from yesterday. Grabbing the concealer, applying foundation, putting on a fresh coat of mascara. Just like the coffee, you take it step by step. If you just keep moving, maybe your mind won’t wander back.
You finish off your face and put on a more appropriate outfit for going out. Jeans and your favorite tee-shirt. You smiled back at yourself in the mirror, feeling pretty accomplished despite the state you came home in. You reach to check the time, but as if on cue your phone buzzed.
kuroo
omw!! :)
you
okay, see you soon.
The silence that suddenly made itself known in the room was broken by the tapping of your foot against the floor. You focus on the consistent rhythm, attempting to keep your heart at a normal pace.
Ugh, couldn’t he run a little late. Just once.
Within a couple of minutes, three quick knocks sound throughout the apartment.
Your eyes dart to the mirror, getting in one more quick glance. Good enough. You drag yourself to the front entrance, drawing a quick breath in as you stand at the door. Your hand lingers on the knob before finally twisting it open.
“Hey!” Kuroo immediately cuts through any awkward silence before it has a chance to settle. “Ready to go?”
He flashed you a grin.
Your eyes meet his smile and they begin to trace the man at your door. He wore a fitted tee shirt under a red jacket and light-wash jeans. The outfit was simple, yet somehow it only highlighted everything unfair about him.
As if sensing your stare, Kuroo meets your eyes and a subtle smile pulls at his lips.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” You reply with a sigh, and a slight flush starts to bloom across your cheeks.
“Took you long enough to respond,” his stupid grin remains firm on his face. “Let’s go!” He turns to walk away, trusting you’ll follow behind.
—
Kuroo pauses right outside of your apartment.
“So, I thought we could go to the ramen shop, the one right by your place.” He turns to study your face. “You still like it there?”
Like it there? You recall going there and sobbing into a bowl of ramen right after the breakup. Or heading there when you got your first big job after polishing off a bottle of sake with Michimiya. It was like your second home, packed with memories you don’t really know how to categorize.
“Oh sure,” you let out. “I still go there, actually.” The sting of the former memory still lingering in the back of your mind.
“Okay, perfect. Let’s go there.”
The walk is short, only a block. Your footsteps fall into sync with his without either of you trying.
“So,” Kuroo cuts the silence. “What’s new?”
You let out a small laugh at how painfully normal the question is. His cheeks tint pink for a second, like he’s aware of it too.
“Just work. The usual bullshit. You know how it is.”
“Actually, I do know how it is,” he huffs out a small laugh. “I got an office job.” His reply makes you glance at him again. So, he really didn’t go pro?
“Really? What’re you up to in an office?” Your words slip out with a hint of shock behind them.
“It’s still volleyball, don’t worry.” He shrugs and chuckles with his answer. “I’m in the sports promotion division of the Japan Volleyball Association.”
“Of course you are.” You smile as you think about how he brought you into volleyball fandom with his own infectious love of it.
Neither of you speak much more. Despite the quiet, the atmosphere feels oddly comfortable and by the time you realize it, Kuroo is pulling a door open. His hands gesture you to walk in first, and he lets the door close behind you two.
Your legs take you over to your usual spot, right by the window. The shop owner calls your name as you pass, and you answer with a quick wave and a smile, the routine you’ve established over countless visits. Kuroo slides the chair out for you to sit and takes his own seat across from you.
“Wow, look at you, Miss Famous.” Kuroo’s grin pulls at his lips. For the first time in a while, you take him in properly. The midday light spills through the window, casting his eyes in a warm glow. They turned amber at the edges, softening the color. Your stomach stirred with uninvited butterflies at the sight of them.
“Oh, please,” you snort. “Says you. I saw you on the big screen the other day after the MSBY game.” His lips were still harboring the grin but slowly shifted into a larger smile.
“Oh ho ho, you’ve been stalking me?” He teases with a slight eyebrow wiggle. Your eyes roll back in your head, but your smirk gives you away.
“No, I’ve just been watching the local games. Not everything is about you.” You come off playfully stern, but the familiarity of the conversation chips away at the wall you’ve been struggling to keep up since you saw him.
“I’m surprised you kept up with volleyball all this time.” His eyes crinkle at each corner as he looks at you.
“Well, yeah. It’s a fun sport.” You say, offering a small smile.
The owner shuffles over, cutting into the banter. You both order, the moment settling into a brief pause of motion before it slides easily back to the two of you again.
“So, what’s got you leaving town again?” You ask.
“Oh, yeah.” Kuroo leans slightly back in his seat. “I’m travelling around for a promotion idea I want to do with the JVA. A big game with all the best players. I want to invite them personally.” He gestures vaguely as he speaks, like he can already see the game playing out somewhere beyond the window.
“Ah,” you say softly. “I see. Is this promotion why you’re here?” Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt, tugging and twisting at the fabric.
“Actually, no. I still live in Tokyo.” He looks back at you, eyebrows almost imperceptibly raised. So slight, you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking so intently. His eyes flicker down to your fidgeting hands.
“Oh.”
The accumulation of information came suddenly crashing down, collapsing the mental image of Kuroo that’s built up throughout the years. You assumed he’d move on to greener pastures. Maybe gone pro, moved to a new country for volleyball. Instead, he’s been here in the same city. You could’ve crossed paths a hundred times, yet somehow you didn’t.
Quick as ever, the owner slips in and sets the two bowls in front of you. You both give your thanks to him before he disappears once more. The steam and rich scents of garlic and veggies from the ramen swirl up into the air. For a moment, it gives you something else to focus on.
You almost don’t notice it, but Kuroo looks directly at you as he says, “Looks as good as I remember.”
You both reach for the cup of chopsticks at the same time; his hand barely grazes your skin. The contact lasts for less than a second, but the warmth sticks to your hand. It’s like your body is subconsciously trying to commit the feeling to memory. Kuroo immediately pulls back and waits for you to get what you need, color coming to the surface of his cheeks.
The two of you eat in silence for a bit, just enjoying the shared meal. You stare into the broth as you eat. The familiar flavor drudges up the past, the way certain senses tend to elicit emotion before your brain can catch up. The night you came here, right after the call. The memory clashes with the current moment.
You break first and ask, “Can I get something off my chest?”
His head jerks up back at you, gaze flipping between each eye. “Go right ahead.” His hand comes up from the ramen to gesture towards you.
“When we broke up, you were pretty cold. It just... wasn’t you. Even now, you’ve been nothing but kind when I’m practically a stranger. I’m just really confused by you.” You let out. It’s been the center of your inner turmoil all morning, might as well rip the Band-Aid off at some point.
He drew a sharp breath in and stared at you. You shifted in your seat, eyes pulling away from his face, unable to hold the eye contact.
“Good thing for you, I’ve thought about this a lot,” he let out a dry humorless laugh, breaking his eye contact. “I thought I was being smart. But looking back it was kinda stupid. I convinced myself that it would be easier if you hated me. Like a clean break or something.” His eyes drop to the table. “My priorities were all out of whack, but I wish I let you in more.” His glaze slowly finds its way back to your face.
“Kuroo…” You’re not even sure where to begin, but you do. “Why the hell would I have wanted you to hurt me like that? I know we were in high school and all but... I loved you.” Your face scrunches up as you speak, tears daring to prick your eyes. Kuroo leans back, eyes widening, just a fraction.
“I really loved you, too,” he says quietly. “Like I said, I was stupid. I wish I could take it all back. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I really am.”
“I wish I knew what to say. I mean, I got over it eventually. But I’m glad you never hated me.” A smile tugged at your lips, competing with the tears that found themselves rolling down your cheeks.
Summary: You and Kuroo were high school sweethearts, but high school sweethearts never make it. Unless maybe they have a chance encounter at a club years after they broke up?
wc: 2.5k
Content tags: alcohol mention, some profanity, some angst, breakups, implied female reader
18+ in future chapters, this one is fairly tame tho!
ao3 link
“Girl.” Michimiya teased as the two of you sipped on some coffee together in your kitchen. You stared at the murky brown void, swirling the cup around in your hands, before taking a big gulp. “I never thought you would stop crying when he broke things off. He was such a prick about it, too. I couldn’t believe he would be so damn cold. And now you’re gonna let him smooth talk his way back into your life?”
“Trust me, I know. I don’t know why I agreed, he just seemed so genuine. He just kept talking, and half of it didn’t even make sense. Plus, it’s been so long, we’re both adults. I don’t think anything will happen.”
“I mean sure, maybe he doesn’t have any other intentions. But I don’t want to see you get hurt, babe.” Her expression softened as she reached and placed her hand on your wrist.
“You can kill me if I end up in his bed or something.”
“Can you say that again so I can record it?” Yui smiled for the first time since Kuroo was brought up.
“I love you, you know that?” You smiled back at her before polishing off the remainder of your coffee and slipping away to put the mug in the sink. Yui blew you a kiss as you made your way to your room.
Unfortunately for his grand reconciliation plans, Kuroo's ass was still blocked. With slight hesitation, you grabbed your phone off your nightstand and swiped to the settings app, landing on the “blocked contacts” section. The only contact in there read: “tetsu ♥”. The same as the day you blocked him. You sighed as you clicked the unblock contact button and swiped to text him.
you
sup
Almost immediately, three dots popped up ready for a response.
tetsu ♥
YO
damn, finally unblocked lmao
you
not for long
tetsu ♥
rude lol
You left him on read, just to see where he would steer the conversation without prodding it along.
tetsu ♥
anyways, could I take you for coffee or something? you free this morning? idk how long ill be in town for, so we should meet up today i think.
you
i already had coffee
tetsu ♥
ugh, kay. lunch?
you
alright, sounds good
tetsu ♥
you still at your old place?
you
yup
tetsu ♥
bet, ill pick u up at noon
Your eyes linger on the messages, darting between words, before you click into his contact and change his name to simply “kuroo.” You sit on the edge of your bed, still blinking at the phone in hand, and you click to turn it off.
The alarm clock on the side of your bed ticks onward, signaling every second you get closer to having a conversation with Kuroo. The clock blinked back in bright red numbers: 10:00. Shit. Your hair was still caught up in the tangles from the night before, mascara clumped and clinging to your lids like gum on a shoe. Your head still pounded from the alcohol’s residuals, the coffee hardly helping.
Your feet dragged you to the bathroom, catching a final glimpse of your disheveled appearance, before stepping into the shower. The hot water hits your skin with a comfortable sting. You worked the soap along your body, removing the traces of last night from it. Creeping in like an unwanted pest, your mind shifts to your lunch plans. Is this really just lunch? Other thoughts follow in line. Kuroo on the TV. Why wasn’t he on the court playing? Kuroo at the bar. He’s thought about me?
You shake your head, hoping to reset your brain and turn it away from Kuroo. It doesn’t work, if anything, it only makes you more aware of him.
The way he looked last night slips back into your mind without the ability to stop it. His thick arms work their hold around your brain. The same arms that never reached for his phone when you spent weeks trying to connect. Your mind moves from his arms to the small amount of skin to skin at the bar. The subtle grabbing of your wrist, wishing he would have grabbed more. The thought made your stomach twist. Your cheeks flushed as you finished in the shower, stepping out and roughly drying your hair, trying to scrub the fighting thoughts out of your head. He was sweet and uncharacteristically shy the night before. And so much hotter. It would've been easier if he'd shown up looking like the asshole you'd spent years imagining. You’re supposed to hate him.
Coffee. You need more coffee. Maybe still hungover? You’re sick. Definitely sick.
You sigh as you slip on a comfortable outfit, not quite ready yet to face Kuroo and make your way to the kitchen. Your hands go through the motions anyway, pulling the grounds out, grabbing a mug, and brewing a fresh cup.
You bring it to your room, setting it besides the ensemble of makeup and brushes still scattered from yesterday. Grabbing the concealer, applying foundation, putting on a fresh coat of mascara. Just like the coffee, you take it step by step. If you just keep moving, maybe your mind won’t wander back.
You finish off your face and put on a more appropriate outfit for going out. Jeans and your favorite tee-shirt. You smiled back at yourself in the mirror, feeling pretty accomplished despite the state you came home in. You reach to check the time, but as if on cue your phone buzzed.
kuroo
omw!! :)
you
okay, see you soon.
The silence that suddenly made itself known in the room was broken by the tapping of your foot against the floor. You focus on the consistent rhythm, attempting to keep your heart at a normal pace.
Ugh, couldn’t he run a little late. Just once.
Within a couple of minutes, three quick knocks sound throughout the apartment.
Your eyes dart to the mirror, getting in one more quick glance. Good enough. You drag yourself to the front entrance, drawing a quick breath in as you stand at the door. Your hand lingers on the knob before finally twisting it open.
“Hey!” Kuroo immediately cuts through any awkward silence before it has a chance to settle. “Ready to go?”
He flashed you a grin.
Your eyes meet his smile and they begin to trace the man at your door. He wore a fitted tee shirt under a red jacket and light-wash jeans. The outfit was simple, yet somehow it only highlighted everything unfair about him.
As if sensing your stare, Kuroo meets your eyes and a subtle smile pulls at his lips.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” You reply with a sigh, and a slight flush starts to bloom across your cheeks.
“Took you long enough to respond,” his stupid grin remains firm on his face. “Let’s go!” He turns to walk away, trusting you’ll follow behind.
—
Kuroo pauses right outside of your apartment.
“So, I thought we could go to the ramen shop, the one right by your place.” He turns to study your face. “You still like it there?”
Like it there? You recall going there and sobbing into a bowl of ramen right after the breakup. Or heading there when you got your first big job after polishing off a bottle of sake with Michimiya. It was like your second home, packed with memories you don’t really know how to categorize.
“Oh sure,” you let out. “I still go there, actually.” The sting of the former memory still lingering in the back of your mind.
“Okay, perfect. Let’s go there.”
The walk is short, only a block. Your footsteps fall into sync with his without either of you trying.
“So,” Kuroo cuts the silence. “What’s new?”
You let out a small laugh at how painfully normal the question is. His cheeks tint pink for a second, like he’s aware of it too.
“Just work. The usual bullshit. You know how it is.”
“Actually, I do know how it is,” he huffs out a small laugh. “I got an office job.” His reply makes you glance at him again. So, he really didn’t go pro?
“Really? What’re you up to in an office?” Your words slip out with a hint of shock behind them.
“It’s still volleyball, don’t worry.” He shrugs and chuckles with his answer. “I’m in the sports promotion division of the Japan Volleyball Association.”
“Of course you are.” You smile as you think about how he brought you into volleyball fandom with his own infectious love of it.
Neither of you speak much more. Despite the quiet, the atmosphere feels oddly comfortable and by the time you realize it, Kuroo is pulling a door open. His hands gesture you to walk in first, and he lets the door close behind you two.
Your legs take you over to your usual spot, right by the window. The shop owner calls your name as you pass, and you answer with a quick wave and a smile, the routine you’ve established over countless visits. Kuroo slides the chair out for you to sit and takes his own seat across from you.
“Wow, look at you, Miss Famous.” Kuroo’s grin pulls at his lips. For the first time in a while, you take him in properly. The midday light spills through the window, casting his eyes in a warm glow. They turned amber at the edges, softening the color. Your stomach stirred with uninvited butterflies at the sight of them.
“Oh, please,” you snort. “Says you. I saw you on the big screen the other day after the MSBY game.” His lips were still harboring the grin but slowly shifted into a larger smile.
“Oh ho ho, you’ve been stalking me?” He teases with a slight eyebrow wiggle. Your eyes roll back in your head, but your smirk gives you away.
“No, I’ve just been watching the local games. Not everything is about you.” You come off playfully stern, but the familiarity of the conversation chips away at the wall you’ve been struggling to keep up since you saw him.
“I’m surprised you kept up with volleyball all this time.” His eyes crinkle at each corner as he looks at you.
“Well, yeah. It’s a fun sport.” You say, offering a small smile.
The owner shuffles over, cutting into the banter. You both order, the moment settling into a brief pause of motion before it slides easily back to the two of you again.
“So, what’s got you leaving town again?” You ask.
“Oh, yeah.” Kuroo leans slightly back in his seat. “I’m travelling around for a promotion idea I want to do with the JVA. A big game with all the best players. I want to invite them personally.” He gestures vaguely as he speaks, like he can already see the game playing out somewhere beyond the window.
“Ah,” you say softly. “I see. Is this promotion why you’re here?” Your hands reach for the hem of your shirt, tugging and twisting at the fabric.
“Actually, no. I still live in Tokyo.” He looks back at you, eyebrows almost imperceptibly raised. So slight, you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking so intently. His eyes flicker down to your fidgeting hands.
“Oh.”
The accumulation of information came suddenly crashing down, collapsing the mental image of Kuroo that’s built up throughout the years. You assumed he’d move on to greener pastures. Maybe gone pro, moved to a new country for volleyball. Instead, he’s been here in the same city. You could’ve crossed paths a hundred times, yet somehow you didn’t.
Quick as ever, the owner slips in and sets the two bowls in front of you. You both give your thanks to him before he disappears once more. The steam and rich scents of garlic and veggies from the ramen swirl up into the air. For a moment, it gives you something else to focus on.
You almost don’t notice it, but Kuroo looks directly at you as he says, “Looks as good as I remember.”
You both reach for the cup of chopsticks at the same time; his hand barely grazes your skin. The contact lasts for less than a second, but the warmth sticks to your hand. It’s like your body is subconsciously trying to commit the feeling to memory. Kuroo immediately pulls back and waits for you to get what you need, color coming to the surface of his cheeks.
The two of you eat in silence for a bit, just enjoying the shared meal. You stare into the broth as you eat. The familiar flavor drudges up the past, the way certain senses tend to elicit emotion before your brain can catch up. The night you came here, right after the call. The memory clashes with the current moment.
You break first and ask, “Can I get something off my chest?”
His head jerks up back at you, gaze flipping between each eye. “Go right ahead.” His hand comes up from the ramen to gesture towards you.
“When we broke up, you were pretty cold. It just... wasn’t you. Even now, you’ve been nothing but kind when I’m practically a stranger. I’m just really confused by you.” You let out. It’s been the center of your inner turmoil all morning, might as well rip the Band-Aid off at some point.
He drew a sharp breath in and stared at you. You shifted in your seat, eyes pulling away from his face, unable to hold the eye contact.
“Good thing for you, I’ve thought about this a lot,” he let out a dry humorless laugh, breaking his eye contact. “I thought I was being smart. But looking back it was kinda stupid. I convinced myself that it would be easier if you hated me. Like a clean break or something.” His eyes drop to the table. “My priorities were all out of whack, but I wish I let you in more.” His glaze slowly finds its way back to your face.
“Kuroo…” You’re not even sure where to begin, but you do. “Why the hell would I have wanted you to hurt me like that? I know we were in high school and all but... I loved you.” Your face scrunches up as you speak, tears daring to prick your eyes. Kuroo leans back, eyes widening, just a fraction.
“I really loved you, too,” he says quietly. “Like I said, I was stupid. I wish I could take it all back. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I really am.”
“I wish I knew what to say. I mean, I got over it eventually. But I’m glad you never hated me.” A smile tugged at your lips, competing with the tears that found themselves rolling down your cheeks.
oh, because my head is full of poison. and my heart is full of doubt.
tsukishima kei ; angst
you told him you loved him on a rainy tuesday, the kind of day where the sky looks like an old bruise. you expected a scowl, or maybe one of his trademark sarcastic snorts. instead, you got nothing. just the quiet, rhythmic ticking of the clock on his desk and the steady hum of the radiator.
tsukishima didn’t look at you. he kept his eyes trained on his notebook, his fingers gripping his mechanical pencil just a fraction too tight, the graphite snapping with a sharp, clean click.
“don’t say things you don’t mean,” he murmured, his voice flat, devoid of its usual biting edge. it was worse this way. the lack of venom felt like a door closing in your face.
“i do mean it,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his sleeve, but he pulled his arm back just enough for your fingers to graze empty air. the rejection was subtle, but it stung like a paper cut.
he finally looked at you then, golden eyes shielded behind his glasses, completely unreadable. but if you looked closer, past the armor he wore so well, you could see him rotting away. tsukishima’s mind was a dangerous neighborhood to walk through alone. it’s a crowded, dark place, constantly flooded with every cruel thing he had ever thought about himself, every perceived failure, every expectation he convinced himself he could never meet. he was convinced that good things were just preludes to disappointment.
he didn’t believe you. he couldn’t.
to him, your affection wasn’t a gift; it was a riddle he couldn’t solve, a trap he was waiting to spring. his chest ached with the heavy certainty that you were going to realize your mistake eventually. you would wake up one day, look at his sharp edges and his cold disposition, and you would leave. his own insecurity told him it was a mathematical certainty.
“you’re just lonely,” he said, turning back to his desk, his silhouette looking impossibly distant even though he was sitting right in front of you. “or you’re bored. but you don’t love me. you love the idea of someone who doesn’t exist.”
“tsuki, please,” you breathed, a tear finally slipping down your cheek, hot and betraying. “just look at me.”
“i’m doing you a favor,” he replied, and for a split second, his voice cracked, a tiny fracture in his perfect porcelain mask. “go home.”
he sat there in the dim light, drowning in his own silent convictions, pulling the walls up so high that you couldn’t even see the top anymore. he loved you enough to let you go, but he doubted himself too much to ever believe you wanted to stay.
n: this is one of the most relatable songs ever. i have another one.
