nerdy!kuroo × popular!reader (but lowkey nerdy too)
genre: slow-burn fluff | college au | soft academia | mango-coded romance
summary: you used to sit beside him like strangers—until a mango thesis, late night study sessions, and quiet conversations about ester bonds changed everything.
You weren’t exactly close.
For the longest time, you and the guy next to you in Chem-Finance were just… there. Sitting beside each other. Sharing space, but not words.
He was quiet. Diligent. All sharp angles, messy hair, and pen caps always tucked between the teeth. Always scribbling notes with laser focus and mumbling formulas like he was reciting spells.
And you? Well, people might’ve labeled you “popular,” but they didn’t know you stayed up late reading research papers just for fun. Especially anything related to organic chemistry and food science. You didn’t talk about it much—most people tuned out at the word "isomer"—so you kept it to yourself.
Until one day, after weeks of shared silence, you leaned toward him before lecture started and asked, “Hey… random question. Would you help me with a food chemistry thesis?”
He turned to you slowly. “Depends on the fruit.”
You grinned, a little nervous. “Mangoes.”
He froze. Blinked. Then the faintest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Elite choice.”
“You think?”
“Mangoes are chemically fascinating. Ripening rate, sugar-acid balance, volatile compounds—it’s like fruit alchemy.”
That made you perk up, pleasantly surprised. “Exactly! That’s why I picked it. The ester interactions alone could take up an entire section.”
Now he was staring at you like you’d just revealed a hidden level of a video game.
“…You know esters?”
“Um, yeah. I’m majoring in food chemistry and finance.”
He blinked again. “No way. I’m chemistry and finance.”
You both laughed.
After a beat, he added, “You could look at my strawberry thesis if you want. For reference. Similar structural breakdowns.”
“Strawberries? Aren't strawberries... kind of boring?”
“excuse me? they’re a polyploid hybrid with over 600 volatiles and complicated parentage. I liked their duality—how they’re considered berries, but technically aren’t. Plus, they oxidize stupidly fast once cut. They’re a mess.”
You smiled. “That’s why you picked them?”
He looked sheepish for a second. “Also my ex liked them. So I thought maybe if I understood their chemical structure, I’d understand why she sucked.”
You snorted. “You tried to decode heartbreak through fruit?”
“I got an A.”
“That is lowkey impressive.”
From that day on, you brought him a small Tupperware of fresh mango pieces to class. He always accepted them with quiet reverence—and without fail, every time, he’d offer you a mango fun fact.
He announced one morning as you handed over the container, already opening it up and popping the fruit in his mouth “mango trees can live for over 300 years and still bear fruit.”
You paused mid-sip of your coffee, arching a brow with interest. “So basically, they’re the sugar daddies of the plant kingdom.”
Kuroo sputtered around the mango, half-laughing, half-struggling to recover.
You just grinned, grabbing a pen and sliding into your seat beside him. “Resilient and generous. Nature really peaked with that one. Oh and technically, I'm feeding you immortal snacks. How cool is that!”
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. “Cool enough to make me believe in soulmates with a fruit-based origin story.”
You started spending more time together after that. Studying. Swapping notes. Late-night library sessions where he explained reaction mechanisms and you countered with theories about flavor extraction in ripe versus overripe fruit. It was the kind of nerdy chemistry (pun very much intended) that felt easy.
He didn’t talk much at first, but when he did, he was sharp, teasing, and way more sarcastic than you’d expected. The quiet guy beside you turned out to be funny, lowkey cocky, and borderline annoying in the most endearing way.
But he never interrupted your train of thought. Never tried to one-up you. Just matched your energy and let you be.
That alone? Made him addictive company.
So when he turned to you after finance management class one day, scratching the back of his neck, and said, “Hey… there’s a cafe down the street doing a mango-themed menu,” you raised a brow.
“Oh?”
“Mango mousse. Mango sticky rice. All kinds. Thought you might want to join me for some… scientific research.”
You smiled. “Using me as an excuse to eat mangoes?”
“Definitely. Also, I think I’ve officially been conditioned. You feed me mango after class and now my brain expects it.”
You laughed. “Are you asking me out?”
He smirked. “I’m inviting you to assist me in a controlled, mango-based sensory experiment.”
“…That sounds dangerously romantic.”
He shrugged. “Only if the data supports it.”
She gave him a soft smile, "Text me the timings and address. I'll see you later" before turning around and leaving him a smiling fool
