#fukurodani high

[wheatormeat]

Rereading old haikyuu chapters, here's a bunch of silly Akaashis

[deaddriv-talks]

Start screens from Haikyuu Fly High!

[nekomascourt]

✩ NEKOMA, home of the cats . . .

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©nekomascourt, teeful-corner, March 2024. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or copy my works without permission asked beforehand.

[yukkiji]

where the trophy isn't the prize

bokuto’s victorious run across the court wasn’t toward the trophy or the cheering crowd — it was straight into your arms, where years of sweat, struggles, and silent support finally culminated in a fierce, unspoken promise that no matter what, you’d always be his home.

haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. bokuto kotaro x fem!reader ft. msby black jackals and fukurodani volleyball team

genre: fluff, romance, just wholesome!, timeskip!bokuto, former manager!reader

wc: 3.4k

author's note: this is probably the longest i've ever written yet and i love this fic sm it's just wholesome for me; best boy bokuto huhu

the gym lights cast a harsh glow over the court, but they couldn’t outshine the heat radiating from the crowd. the air was thick with the scent of sweat, excitement, and adrenaline — the unmistakable atmosphere of a high-stakes volleyball match. fans were on their feet, some screaming, others frozen in disbelief, but bokuto’s world had already shrunk down to one thing: you.

sitting courtside with akaashi, you watched every move, every spike, every tense moment with quiet intensity. your fingers tapped nervously against your knee, your lips barely moving in silent encouragement.

bokuto caught your gaze several times during the game, his chest heaving with effort and determination, but your calm presence was the anchor that kept him steady.

back then, in high school, it was just like this — chaos on the court and calm off it.

the gym was always alive — alive with squeaking shoes, sharp whistles, the rhythmic slap of volleyballs, and bokuto’s booming voice cutting through it all like a flare. he had a way of making his presence known in every room he stepped into, larger than life and blindingly intense. but what most people didn’t see — what only you really saw — was how hard he worked to hold all that light inside of him.

as fukurodani’s manager, you stood quietly on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp. you were the one who made sure every training drill ran smoothly, kept track of stats and schedules, filled in the gaps left behind when others overlooked the little things. water bottles, towels, first aid kits — you made sure the team never had to ask for them. you were reliable. efficient. present.

but around bokuto, something shifted. there was a gravity to him — bright, explosive, erratic — and somehow, instead of being burned by it, you found warmth in its orbit.

he’d bounce over to you between drills, sweat clinging to his neck, and grin wide enough to make your stomach twist. “did you see that spike?” he’d ask, breathless.

“i did. and you know it was good, so stop fishing for compliments,” you’d reply, pretending not to smile — but you always did. and he always noticed.

at first, your relationship had been built in those in-between moments — water breaks, gym clean-up duty, walks home when the sky turned lilac and gold. you learned how to read him better than anyone else did. when he missed a shot and his shoulders tensed? you’d casually toss him a towel and murmur, “you’ve got another thirty chances. don’t fold on the first one.”

and when he scored, when he lit up and high-fived the whole team, he always turned to look for you in the corner. his expression softer, quieter. like he just needed your eyes to find his.

late practices were your favorite — when everyone had gone home and the world slowed down. he’d collapse on the floor beside you, sweat-soaked and tired, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“you think i’ve got a shot?” he asked once, after a particularly brutal practice. his voice was quiet, a crack in the usual bravado.

you didn’t hesitate. “of course. you don’t even need to ask that.”

he rolled onto his side to look at you. “i do. because when you say it, i believe it.”

you hadn’t said anything then. just offered him the last bite of your convenience store onigiri and smiled. that was enough.

by your third year, your connection was no secret. the team teased, subtly at first — side-glances when he carried your bag, exaggerated coughs when you handed him a towel with too much tenderness. bokuto would brush it off with a wave of his hand and a grin that reached his ears.

“let ’em talk,” he whispered to you once, when he’d snuck out to walk you home. “i only care what you think.”

you started dating officially after graduation, when the intensity of entrance exams had passed and you both realized you couldn’t keep pretending your hearts weren’t already tied up in each other. it wasn’t flashy or dramatic — no rooftop confessions, no perfect timing. just the two of you on a summer evening, sitting side by side on the train after visiting the old gym one last time before leaving for college.

bokuto had been fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, unusually quiet.

“i don’t want to be apart from you,” he finally blurted.

you looked at him, startled. “who said anything about being apart?”

“you’re going to university in tokyo,” he said, frowning. “and i'm heading into full-time training. i just…” his voice dropped. “i don’t want us to drift.”

you reached out and held his hand right there on the train, surrounded by strangers. “then let’s not.”

you found a tiny one-bedroom apartment just outside the city — a shoebox, really, with off-white walls and a heater that rattled in the winter. the kitchen could barely fit two people, and you had to take turns brushing your teeth. but it was yours. the first home you built together.

there were volleyballs by the front door, your work notes strewn across the kitchen table, and bokuto’s shampoo always invading your shelf in the bathroom. he liked waking up early to train; you liked staying up late to finish your assignments. you bickered about groceries, cuddled under mismatched blankets, and danced in the living room when things felt too heavy.

you became his anchor — the person who knew how to hold him steady when the crowd’s cheers faded and all that was left was a boy who sometimes still doubted himself.

he would come home after rough practices, dropping his duffel by the door and collapsing on the floor face-down.

“they’re faster than me,” he muttered into the carpet one night. “i can’t keep up.”

you knelt beside him, fingers threading gently into his hair. “you’ve said that before, remember?”

“yeah.”

“and what happened then?”

“…i worked harder.”

you smiled. “and you’ll do it again.”

he tilted his head up just enough to look at you. “i’d be lost without you, baby.”

you kissed his forehead. “luckily for you, i plan on sticking around.”

supporting him wasn’t something you did out of obligation. it was your heartbeat. you loved his fire, but you also loved the quiet after — the way he needed reassurance without asking for it, the way he would hold your pinky when he was anxious, the way he listened when you vented about your day even if he was exhausted from training.

he wasn’t just your boyfriend. he was your best friend. and you were his reason to keep climbing higher.

and now, as you sat courtside at the msby black jackals vs. schweiden adlers game years later, watching him chase a victory in front of a roaring crowd, you weren’t surprised when he didn’t look at the trophy when the final point was scored.

he looked at you.

because from the first rally to the last, no matter how high he flew — he was always coming back to you.

his legs moved without him thinking, without waiting for permission or logic to catch up. he ran — no, he surged — like something had ignited inside his chest and there was only one direction for the flames to go.

not towards the trophy.

not towards the cameras or the crowd or his teammates still caught in the swell of celebration behind him.

he ran straight toward you.

the noise around him was deafening — the roar of the stadium, the blare of victory music, the low rumble of the announcer's voice barely audible over the cheers. but it all faded into white static the moment his eyes found yours in the front row. you were standing now, hands clutched near your mouth, eyes wide — shimmering with emotion, disbelief, pride, something deeper.

your heart stuttered in your chest. it felt like everything around you had slowed, like time itself knew not to interrupt. you barely registered akaashi standing next to you, still seated and smirking to himself as he leaned over and muttered under his breath, “he’s really gonna do it.”

but you couldn't move, couldn't think — not when bokuto, sweat-drenched and glowing with the heat of victory, was charging toward you with the same energy he used to throw down match-point spikes. it was the same look he wore when he chased down dreams, but this time, you were the finish line.

when he reached you, it wasn’t graceful. he almost tripped over the barrier separating the court from the stands, nearly knocking you off balance with the sheer momentum of his body. but none of that mattered. his arms caught you like they always did — strong, warm, and full of emotion too big for words.

“baby!” he half-laughed, half-shouted, voice cracking with joy. his chest was heaving from the run, his forehead damp with sweat, eyes shining as if he was still in the game and the final point hadn’t yet fallen.

you were already moving into his arms before he finished saying it.

the embrace was bone-deep. fierce. his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he lifted you just slightly off the ground, holding you like he’d been waiting years for this exact second. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him like you always had — not out of fear, but out of knowing he was home.

he smelled like victory and salt and that familiar, earthy warmth you’d memorized back in your high school gym. your fingers curled into the fabric of his jersey, clutching it like it was the only thing anchoring you to the moment. and in a way, it was.

all around you, the stadium kept roaring. cameras began to shift, turning lenses in your direction, catching the image that would circulate online for weeks: not the final point, not the scoreboard — this. bokuto, eyes closed, forehead pressed to yours, smiling like the world had narrowed down to only one person in the crowd.

the image that would silently echo the line that neither of you needed to say:

“where’s the trophy? he just comes runnin' over to me."

he pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still firm around your waist. his grin was still wild, still unfiltered, but there was something softer in his gaze now. something tender.

you blinked back tears, cupping his face, voice trembling with emotion. “you did it.”

but he shook his head. “we did it.”

your chest tightened, your breath catching in your throat. because you knew what he meant. the years — the early mornings, the late-night ramen after bad losses, the job interviews you rescheduled to travel with him to qualifiers, the way you whispered encouragement into his ear when no one else could see the weight on his shoulders.

he saw it all. he never forgot.

the after-party buzzed with the kind of electric joy only hard-won victories could bring.

laughter echoed off the walls of the event hall, glasses clinked, and the players from msby floated from table to table like gods fresh from the battlefield. bokuto had been in the center of it all — hyped, glowing, still riding the adrenaline of the win. you’d watched him with your chin propped on your hand, a smile tugging at your lips as he retold a play for the fifth time, each version more dramatic than the last.

but you could tell he wasn’t all there.

his eyes kept flicking over to you. quietly. softly. as if you were the only steady point in a room full of motion.

eventually, he slipped away from the crowd and approached you, eyes glinting under the golden lights, his hand reaching down for yours.

“hey,” he murmured, “come with me for a sec?”

you blinked. “where?”

he squeezed your fingers. “just… trust me.”

you always did.

he led you through the hotel corridors and out a discreet side door, his hand warm and solid in yours. the sounds of celebration faded behind you, replaced by the soft hush of the night. outside, the terrace was lit by hanging fairy lights and wrapped in soft shadows. beyond it was a quiet, manicured garden, the scent of early spring flowers drifting on the breeze.

bokuto paused, glancing up at the stars for a breath, then turned to face you fully.

you opened your mouth to speak — to tease, maybe, or ask what this was — but the look on his face stopped you cold.

he was nervous.

not the giddy, bouncing bokuto you knew, but something quieter. deeper. his hands were trembling slightly as he took yours again and drew you in closer.

“i’ve been trying to find the right moment all night,” he admitted, his voice soft, steadier now that you were alone. “but every time i looked at you, it hit me all over again. i don’t need the perfect moment. i just need you.”

your breath caught.

“i’ve been thinking about this since high school,” he went on. “since those nights when we’d close up the gym together and walk home under streetlights, when you’d tell me i was more than just my mood swings, more than just a powerful spike.” his voice cracked a little. “you’ve been with me through everything, baby. before anyone knew my name. before the jersey, before the wins.”

he let out a small laugh, gaze locked with yours. “you saw me — all of me. and you stayed.”

the silence between you was tender, and electric, and brimming with everything that couldn’t be spoken aloud all at once.

“so tonight, i don’t care if we won or lost,” he whispered. “i still would’ve done this. because i knew the only thing i’ve ever been sure of — even more than my cross spike — is that i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

then, with one more shaky exhale, he dropped to one knee.

you gasped — hands flying to your mouth, the world narrowing down to just him, kneeling in a garden that now felt like something out of a dream. in his hand was a simple velvet box, trembling slightly as he opened it to reveal a ring that sparkled softly under the fairy lights.

“will you marry me?”

the tears came before your voice could.

you nodded rapidly, voice breaking. “yes,” you choked out, the word thick with emotion. “yes, yes — of course.”

he surged up, slipping the ring onto your finger with shaking hands before pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you like he never wanted to let go.

you barely had time to breathe before —

“wooooo!!”

the terrace doors burst open behind you.

you turned, startled, only for a wave of familiar faces to come rushing out from behind the hedges and doorways where they’d been hiding.

“finally!” hinata crowed, fist-pumping into the air. “we were freezing our asses out here!”

akaashi appeared behind him, arms crossed but a faint smile tugging at his lips. “he wanted us here. said it wouldn’t be right if we weren’t.”

konoha and komi barreled over next, both looking a little misty-eyed despite their teasing smirks.

“you’re stuck with him forever now, huh?” konoha teased, slinging an arm around bokuto’s shoulder. “good luck with that emotional rollercoaster.”

“she’s the only one who’s ever kept him from flatlining mid-game,” komi joked, wiping discreetly at his eyes. “she deserves the mvp title too.”

bokuto laughed through a choked breath, cheeks red, still holding you tightly against his side.

the msby boys spilled out next — atsumu whistling loud and obnoxious, sakusa staying slightly behind but nodding with quiet approval, meian raising a glass he’d somehow snuck out with.

“congrats, lovebirds,” meian said with a grin. “you’re officially team captain of his heart now.”

you covered your face in your hands, overwhelmed and laughing through tears as bokuto gently pulled them down.

“hey,” he whispered, his smile crooked and boyish. “you said yes.”

“i did,” you whispered back, eyes shining.

he leaned in, forehead resting against yours, voice barely audible over the sound of your friends cheering behind you.

“i can’t believe i get to keep you forever.”

you smiled.

“you always had me.”

and in that garden, wrapped in fairy lights and the laughter of people who’d known you both from the beginning, bokuto knew:

this was the real victory.

the morning sunlight came slow and golden through the hotel window.

it filtered through sheer curtains, turning the room a soft, buttery hue — the kind of light that invited you to stay in bed just a little longer. the world outside had quieted, the frenzy of the match and the after-party now distant echoes. what remained was the hush of morning. breath. warm skin. the steady rhythm of someone you love sleeping beside you.

bokuto was on his side, one arm sprawled over your waist, the other tucked beneath his pillow. his hair was flattened in odd directions, still faintly smelling of cologne and sweat and champagne. his mouth was parted slightly, breath soft and even. one bare leg was tangled in the sheets, his hand unconsciously tightening against your hip every few minutes like his body remembered you even in sleep.

the engagement ring still glittered faintly on your finger.

you turned your hand slowly in the light, watching it catch on the delicate band. there was something surreal about seeing it there. not because it felt out of place — but because it felt so right, so natural, it was as though your hand had always been waiting for it.

a quiet sigh pulled your attention.

bokuto was stirring.

his lashes fluttered, and after a few blinks, his golden eyes found yours. for a moment, he just looked at you — as if making sure you were really still there. like maybe he thought he’d dreamed it all. the match. the garden. your yes.

“morning,” he rasped, voice rough and low, eyes still heavy with sleep.

you smiled, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. “morning.”

his brows furrowed. “did we…? last night…”

“you proposed,” you whispered, smiling softly. “and i said yes.”

he stared for a beat, eyes wide with awe, before he groaned and buried his face against your neck.

“baby,” he mumbled into your skin. “i’m engaged. to you.”

you laughed gently, curling your fingers into his hair.

“yeah. you are.”

he pulled back slightly, blinking at you like he still couldn’t believe it, like the realization was settling deeper into his bones with every second. then, slowly, his hand reached for yours beneath the sheets. he laced your fingers together, bringing them to his lips. his thumb brushed over the ring as he kissed your knuckles, lingering there.

“you’re gonna wake up next to me every day,” he murmured. “forever.”

“every day,” you echoed.

“and we’re gonna get a place with a huge couch. like, huge. so we can lie on top of each other and still have room for snacks.”

you smiled. “is that your dream for our marriage?”

“that and putting your name in my phone as my wife.” his eyes softened again. “but mostly… just being with you. like this. always.”

you didn’t say anything for a long moment. you just stared at him — his sleep-ruffled hair, his crinkled eyes, his earnest smile. he was still the same bokuto who used to chase you around the fukurodani gym with a towel over his head, pretending to be a ghost. still the boy who gave you his milk bread after practice when you forgot yours. still the man who looked at you like you held his whole world in your hands.

and now, he really had given you everything.

you leaned forward and kissed him — slow, sleepy, and full of quiet promise.

when you pulled back, your forehead rested against his.

“i’m really glad you ran to me yesterday.”

he smiled, eyes closing as he breathed you in.

“where else would i go?”

outside, the city slowly stirred awake — but in that quiet room, with his arms around you and your hand in his, there was nothing else the world could offer that could compare.

because the greatest win of his life wasn’t last night’s match.

it was waking up to you — every morning, from now until forever.

[haikyu-mp4]

Just his type – Yaku x reader wc 684 – gn!reader

Sometimes, the members of Nekoma doubted that you and Yaku were actually dating. Willingly at least.

Kuroo, especially, would squint whenever you two interacted at school, as it mostly consisted of scoffing and annoying each other. It wasn’t anything like the romantic bickering he imagined in his future relationship.

“Why don’t you just do better?” Yaku asked when you were moping over a bad test result. Kuroo grimaced, having heard those exact words from him in volleyball training, but now he watched you slowly raise your gaze to Yaku’s.

“You’re so smart, honey.” You smacked your lips with a sarcastic chuckle, patting your head. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”

And when you abruptly shoved your chair back to get up and rub your knuckle into your boyfriend’s head until he could swear a bald spot started forming, Kai would just pat Kuroo on the shoulder. “Yaku needs a partner like that, don’t you think?”

The second-years cared less, but found it entertaining when the so-called demon senpai was challenged.

They’re in the gym at training camp, doing receiving drills until Yaku might tire out and let them go.

Yamamoto’s eyes followed Lev, who had Yaku trailing angrily behind him but struggling to keep up with his stride.

“Get back here!” Yaku squeaked. “You’re not done with training!”

Lev stuttered out some excuse that Yamamoto couldn’t hear after he got distracted by you stepping inside the gym.

Kenma came up beside him and huffed a small laugh. “It’s like the final boss has a final boss.” Yamamoto only shook his head with a smile, not exactly disagreeing.

Yaku turned 180 degrees and hit you with an unimpressed look. “I thought you had kitchen duty with Fukurodani's managers.”

“And I thought you were going to ask the second-years to come help me,” you retorted, crossing your arms and tapping your foot on the floor impatiently.

Yaku blinked at you in silence. Hearing that, Yamamoto and Kenma started slowly backing away so they might evade such a fate. The older team member diverted his gaze with a hint of guilt and shrugged. “So, I might have forgotten that. Do you need them now?”

Yamamoto made a last-ditch attempt, grabbing Kenma’s sleeve and pulling him along until they reached the entrance, escaping into the night to the sound of you two fighting.

In the preliminaries, the third-years’ last opportunity to go to nationals, you spent the whole game with your hands clutched together, cheering the boys on for them to beat the team that couldn’t seem to play fair.

If only Coach Nekomata let you and Yaku at ‘em, they wouldn’t be barking so loud after.

Nonetheless, you believed in Nekoma wholeheartedly.

Until you watched Yaku jump the barrier for a flyaway ball and not get back up. You gasped, running around the court to get to him as fast as possible, apologising to any people you had to shove aside. When you got there, Yaku was groaning and clutching his ankle with one hand, while the other pressed against the floor to try and push him up.

The team watched as you held Yaku close to you, one hand resting on his chest and the other arm across his back while he leaned on you to get the weight off his foot. It was the most affectionate they’d seen you two be with each other, and it was topped by Yaku pressing a kiss to your temple, before shaking his head stubbornly at whatever you’d said.

Kuroo ran over to check on you two and recognised the familiar tone in your voice. “Are you stupid? If you go back in now, you’ll hurt yourself even more, and then you can’t even play when Nekoma finally goes to nationals!” you scolded him.

Yaku eventually gave in, letting you help him to the bench, and Shibayama took his place on the court.

Kuroo looked at Kai and nodded, the two sharing a motivational high five as they got ready to start back up.

“Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of partner he needs,” he mused, ending that speculation.

masterlist

requested by @liquidcatt for don't forget me<3

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

1.- Part one.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. dry humping. dirty talking. power struggle. both you and kuroo are kinda feral. lemme know if i missed anything ;3 wc. 5.6k an. i blame this on sir mix-a-lot and my instagram fyp. enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

And when I catch a little kitty lookin', oh, so tough Bring hot water 'cause I might get stuck!

Nekoma wasn't huge, but it wasn't some tiny rundown school either. It wasn't a prestigious rich-kid academy like Fukurodani, but it wasn't a dump. You'd call it perfectly average—just balanced enough to create a decent social jungle.

The school had its fair share of quiet nerds, top-ranking students, sports freaks, and, of course, the so-called delinquents, as adults liked to whisper whenever they saw kids with piercings, dyed hair, or a cigarette hanging from their lips.

You? You belonged in the latter category.

Which is why, during lunch break, you and your bestfriend Emi had a cigarette and a canned coffee for lunch, tucked into a secluded corner she'd found and claimed after a teacher caught you smoking behind the gym a week before and threw a fit about it, forcing you to find a better place.

You leaned against the sun-warmed brick, one boot crossed over the other as the late morning light sliced through the cracks between the buildings.

The sky was too blue for how shitty the day had started.

"Inukai-sensei scolded you again? What a drag." 

Emi's voice broke through the idle silence, syrupy with a mix of concern and genuine amusement. She had her eyes closed and face looking up into the sky, bathing in the sun like a happy cat.

You nodded in response.

"Another lecture about skipping class and how I could amount to more and to 'please think of my future' and yeah... The usual." You waved a hand in the air as if you could swat away his voice. Just retelling it made your skin itch with anxiety. You patted your blazer for your cigarettes.

Emi let out a thoughtful hum. And opened her eyes to study you with a tilt of her head.

"Well, he's right. You used to get really good grades in first year..."

You shot her a disgusted look, scrunching your nose.

She laughed, brushing you off. "Hey, I'm just saying. Why waste your time with us anyway? Why don't you listen to Inukai-sensei and get your grades back up?"

"I just don't get the point of chasing 'academic success' All that effort just to end up working in some office that'll suck me dry and bury me under unpaid overtime like the rest of this country?" You scoffed, still patting your pockets. "Bullshit... Where are the fucking things?"

Emi rolled her eyes and reached into your bag, retrieving the familiar box with a practiced flick of her wrist. She stole one for herself, already slipping it between her glossy lips.

Emi was loud, pouty, and wore trouble like lip gloss. Shiny, sweet, and impossible to ignore, she floated through the chaos of Nekoma High with a glossy grin and one too many questionable friends (one of them being you).

The perfect image of a bleach-blonde puppy pretending to run with the big dogs.

But underneath the fake lashes and the too-short skirts, she was pure heart: loyal, messy, a little reckless, and your best friend.

She loved too fast, forgave too easily, and stuck to your side like her life depended on it. In a city full of knives disguised as smiles, Emi was an open wound—raw, real, and stupidly brave. A rare trait in Nekoma. You'd landed more than a few punches to protect her, and you were willing to land many more if it meant she was out of harm.

"You sound like such a snob, Y/N."

You snorted as she handed over the box.

"Thanks, babes," you whispered as you took it form her hands, pulling a cigarette out of the box. "Call me whatever you want. As long as I pass and graduate, the rest is useless." You bit down on the filter of your cigarette, patting your pockets again, this time in search of your lighter.

"Sure, sure. You've gotten enough lectures today. I've got my own problems anyway." Emi sighed, reaching into your left pocket and fishing out the lighter. She lit her own cigarette before handing it to you. You gave her a grateful nod. "Yasuo broke up with me. What's up with that?"

You didn't really hear her. Your gaze was already drifting toward something—someone—far more interesting. Your lips parted just a little, cigarette hanging forgotten between your lips.

Kuroo Tetsurou, striding across the schoolyard.

Broad shoulders, long legs, the kind of posture that said I know exactly who I am.

His hair was a wild mess—bedhead in the most deliberate, devastating way, like he'd rolled out of someone else's bed and still looked hotter than anyone had a right to. It was all jagged spikes and volume, practically defying gravity, but somehow it worked for him.

Too well.

Next to him walked a shorter guy with a slouched posture and his eyes glued to his phone. But your eyes? Locked on Kuroo like a heat-seeking missile.

He turned his head slightly, talking to his friend with a lazy grin. You caught a glimpse of sharp, narrow eyes and a grin that looked like trouble.

The kind of cocky smile that said he knew exactly what you were thinking and was daring you to think it louder.

Your heartbeat stuttered, then picked up like it was trying to break free from your chest.

Fuck, he was hot.

The kind of hot that made you want to do something reckless.

Like ruin your academic record.

Or make it better.

Or crawl into his lap and ask him to tutor you in anything but math.

Eureka.

"Very cute," you muttered under your breath and lit up the smoke, eyes raking over him like he was your next bad decision wrapped in a school uniform.

(He was.)

Emi's voice rose in protest beside you. "Hey! Are you even listening to me?!"

You crushed the flavor capsule between your teeth, a little too hard.

"Who's the hottie? Never seen him before..." you murmured, half to yourself, half to Emi—afraid that if you took your eyes from him, he'd vanish.

Emi's annoyed pout was immediately replaced by a curious squint. "Eh?"

"The tall one, next to blondie," you pressed with a jerk of your chin in his direction, your body practically leaning forward like gravity itself was pulling you toward him. "You know him?"

Of course she did. Emi knew everyone.

She followed your line of sight—and her face lit up with recognition. "Oh! I do, he's the captain of the volleyball team... Tetsurou! Kuroo Tetsurou. He's in Class 5, I think."

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun, huh?"

You rolled the name over your tongue like candy, savoring every syllable.

"Class 5... so hot and smart. I like."

You needed him.

Biblically.

You didn't notice Emi's wide-eyed stare as she put two and two together, looking between you and Kuroo with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Wait—seriously? Him?" she spluttered.

You shot her a glare, brows raised.

"Don't get me wrong," she rushed, "he is hot. And he does sports. And he's like, top of his class, I'm pretty sure. Pretty good catch... for a good girl."

You scoffed. "Pfff. Who's the snob now?"

"I'm just saying. I don't think he'd mingle with the likes of us. You could have any of the guys if you wanted."

You made a face like you'd tasted something sour. "The guys have no brains. And even less charm. Brain-eating bacteria would starve up there."

She blinked. "Brain-eating... what?"

You shrugged, lighting your cigarette with a smirk.

"Besides, it's the chase that's exciting. He looks like a tough cookie. I like that."

Emi snorted. "Girl, if he's a cookie, you're a box of cheap cigs. You two don't mix."

But you weren't listening anymore.

Your sights were set, your interest fully piqued. Your mind was already spinning a thousand possibilities.

And right now? You wanted Kuroo Tetsurou under you.

Or on top of you.

Or really anywhere he wanted to be. But that was beside the point.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing on him like a predator sizing up prey.

"Magnetism, honey. Polar opposites attract... sometimes."

You took another drag, eyes back on Emi. "But no pain, no gain. Whaddaya think?"

"I think you're insane," Emi said, laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I love it when you get that crazy look in your eyes. It means a shitshow's about to happen."

"Thank you, babes."

"You know it. Always got your back."

"If you need someone dead, you know who to call." You winked, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No new info there." She took her final drag, then ground the cigarette out under her shoe.

She turned back toward Kuroo and his friend. "Okay, but real talk—how're you gonna pull this off? You need a plan."

You mirrored her movement, flicking away your cigarette and pulling a tissue from your blazer pocket to pick it up.

"I'm working on one. Step zero is in motion." You handed her the crumpled tissue. "Pick up your butt or the teachers will know we smoke here now."

"Oh shit, you're right." She bent to grab the butt, mumbling as she moved. "You see? You're smart—Eh? Where are you—"

When she looked up, you were already walking.

Purpose in every step.

The distance between you and him closed with every beat of your heart, Emi's voice fading behind you as she scrambled to catch up. The sun hit your back. The breeze lifted your hair. And in your head?

You were already imagining his hands on your waist, his voice in your ear, the way that smirk might look beneath you.

He looked even taller up close.

Even hotter.

And you needed him like your lungs needed that next hit of nicotine.

The two boys stopped talking, eyes flicking up as you approached.

You looked up at Kuroo with a tilted head and a smirk.

"What's your name?" you asked, even though you already knew.

Conversation had to start somewhere.

Kenma scrunched his nose immediately, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke before he could.

You caught it—a flicker. Kuroo's pupils dilated. A split-second widening of the eyes before suspicion slammed into place.

Cute.

Kuroo was already analyzing you. Running the odds.

He couldn't quite place what your intentions were, but something about the way you looked at him told him it couldn't be anything good.

His eyes narrowed, as though trying to peel back the layers of your carefully crafted nonchalance. He didn't trust easily, and people like you... well, you had a way of being unpredictable.

Kuroo knew you, or at least he had heard of you.

You were infamous in ways that made most people wary, always getting into fights with girls and boys alike, to the point that more than one person he knew was outright afraid of you.

Still, for some reason, the teachers—despite the rebellious streak you wore like armor—seemed to favor you. They kept trying to pull you out of whatever bumpy road you'd decided to drive down, but he couldn't see why.

You were... trouble. Big trouble.

But despite that, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. And damn it, he couldn't help but wonder if it was curiosity or something deeper that had him paying more attention to you than he probably should.

You were also lowkey hot to him—highkey, super pretty. But way too much trouble to pursue.

So, what the hell were you doing right in front of him?

"Kuroo Tetsurou," he answered, tone neutral.

"Nice. I'm—"

"Y/N," he interrupted. "Most people know you."

"Most people know about me." You caught the way Kenma cringed at your words. It made you smile.

There was a moment of silence between you, where you took your sweet time examining his features. His eyes flickered, maybe to keep his cool, maybe to hide the fact that he was intrigued—his eyebrows raised, like saying 'So... what do you want?'

But he was fronting. Freaking out on the inside. Still trying to make sense of you. He wasn't sure if you were about to punch him, kiss him, or just walk away.

The worst part? He couldn't figure out which one he hated less.

Your unassuming smile made it hard to read you, but there was something in the way you looked at him he liked. Your eyes looked curious. Like a dog sniffing a possible friend.

Or a prey.

"Would you tutor me?" You saw Kuroo's eyes snap to Emi, whose jaw hit the floor the moment the words left your lips.

He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, tutor me. My homeroom teacher has been giving me shit about grades, and I'd like to graduate."

He shrugged. "Naturally."

Oh, so he was a smartass.

"Would you?"

"Why me?"

"Aren't you in class 5? That means you're smart."

He wasn't budging. His expression remained unconvinced, the flicker of suspicion in his eyes never fully disappeared.

And then there was the look on Emi's face, like she was questioning your sanity. Yeah, that confirmed it—he was right.

This was bullshit. There had to be more to it than just grades.

"I'll pay you."

Both Kenma and Emi looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Kuroo's lips curled into a sly smirk. 

Now he was really curious. 

He leaned in just a little, intrigued. "How much?"

"1000 yen." Emi's eyes almost popped out of her head. Why were you willing to pay him?

"3000 yen." Kenma's face shot to Kuroo, equally shocked. Why was he raising the price?

Your smile grew. Why was this kinda hot?

"Are you trying to scam me, smart boy?"

"Pfft, that's a miscalculation, considering you'll be taking away my study time to help you out."

You raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at you like he didn't regret this conversation anymore.

And you looked up at him like you were about to set his entire world on fire.

"2500." You offered your final bid. His smirk widened.

"Y/N!" Emi whispered in urgency.

"Done."

Your smile grew. "Okay. Thursdays after class."

"After practice," he corrected, voice smooth.

You shrugged. That worked for you.

"Can I go watch?" you teased, flashing a cheeky grin.

"I'd rather not." His smirk deepened as a pout tugged at your lips. That look suited you.

"Fair. See you Thursday, smart boy~" You waved a hand at both of them as you turned to walk away.

Kuroo watched you go, still wearing that crooked grin—but now, there was something else behind it.

Interest. Amusement.

A flicker of intrigue he hadn't expected to feel on a Monday.

You'd crashed into his day like a storm in lip gloss and leather, and now he couldn't stop wondering what the hell you really wanted from him.

Kenma nudged his elbow. "You're actually gonna tutor her?"

"She's paying," he replied, though his gaze was still on your retreating figure. "And she's... interesting."

"Interesting's one word for it," Kenma muttered, unamused.

Meanwhile, Emi was dragging you down the school grounds back to your little corner like you were a possessed doll, whisper-screaming at you in complete disbelief.

"What the actual hell was that?!"

"What?" you said, feigning innocence as you pulled out another cigarette, mostly for effect. "I got a tutor. Aren't you proud of me?"

"You just offered to pay the guy to spend time with you—and called him smart boy, by the way. That was a little cringe."

You exhaled with a grin, smoke curling past your lips. "And he didn't say no."

Emi looked like she wanted to peel her own face off, but she wore a shocked smile.

"You're insane," she whispered, like she couldn't believe you.

But you? You felt electric. Buzzing with adrenaline and reckless possibility.

Being honest, even you couldn't explain what had you this hooked in the first place. It wasn't like you to flirt, let alone sleep around—especially not with some guy you'd just met. You weren't even that experienced, really. Just good at faking it when you had to. You knew how to make guys back off, not draw them in. And you liked it that way—especially with a friend as stupidly pretty as Emi. 

Someone had to be the one with teeth.

But the second you laid eyes on Kuroo, something unfamiliar ignited in your chest. Hot. Sharp. Wild. It didn't feel like danger, not exactly—but it burned just the same. And without thinking twice, without looking back, you lunged toward it like instinct. Like hunger.

You weren't chasing chaos for the thrill this time.

You were chasing him.

And there wasn't a single part of you planning to stop.

When Thursday rolled around—and after confirming to Emi three separate times that yes, you were going to pay him, and yes, you were trying to fuck him—you actually paid attention in class. Took notes, too, so you didn't show up to tutoring empty-handed. Half-assed, sure, but it was something. You even waited for him outside school like you said you would.

The spring wind clawed at your jacket as you leaned against the weather-worn "Nekoma Metropolitan High School" sign, flicking ash from your cigarette like you weren't freezing your ass off. Rust crept along the metal edges, and the chain-link fence behind you rattled every time the breeze picked up. You looked every bit the part of a stray dog waiting to be fed—eyes sharp, restless, scanning for the only person you'd follow home.

You caught sight of him leaving the gym, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and a little more tousled than usual from practice. Of course he wasn't alone—Kenma trailed behind, glued to his phone, already scowling once he noticed you.

Kuroo slowed when he saw you, surprise flickering across his face. He clearly hadn't expected you to follow through on your offer, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he couldn't decide whether to be impressed or concerned. But once it was clear you were serious—and once you confirmed the study session was happening at your place—he tossed a quick goodbye over his shoulder and followed you through the alley-strewn veins of Tokyo.

Your apartment complex looked like it had seen better decades.

Rusty stairwells, cracked concrete, the faint smell of piss, mildew, and something metallic hanging in the air like a permanent tenant.

Neon light from a busted sign across the street flickered through your broken blinds.

The building groaned when the wind pushed through its joints, and the elevator had been broken since forever.

Kuroo took it all in with that quiet, unreadable look you'd noticed he got sometimes—eyes narrowed, thoughtful.

He didn't say anything. That was somehow worse.

Inside, the place wasn't much better. Cigarette smoke clung to the yellowing walls.

A stained countertop, three empty ramen cups, a crumpled paper bag, and a scrawled note waited:

For your tutoring and anything else. I have a fight today. Grandma's at the pachinko. Behave.

It was scrawled in your dad's sloppy, half-illegible handwriting. Kuroo read it, then blinked slowly like he wasn't sure if he was impressed or deeply concerned.

You grabbed the bag, tossing the note into the dented trash bin with a smirk.

"A fight," he muttered, still processing as he followed you down the hall. His gaze drifted around your room like it was offering up pieces of you without permission—band posters, a half-broken fan, a low table in front of a dusty floor TV.

"My dad's a boxer," you explained, toeing off your slippers and throwing your bag onto the bed.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "And your grandma's a—"

"Pachinko enthusiast," you finished, grin crooked. "So we've got the place to ourselves until at least nine."

You thought he'd get the hint. His Adam's apple bobbed—nervous? Excited? You couldn't tell. But when he sat down cross-legged at your low table and pulled out his books like he was actually here to tutor you, you almost groaned aloud.

"So," he said, pulling a blue folder from his bag, "let's see what you're failing."

"You actually got my report card? That's commitment." you said, raising a brow.

He ignored your teasing as he flipped through the papers. "You're not failing anything, surprisingly. But your chem grades are garbage."

You flopped dramatically onto your bed. "I'm struggling."

"I see that," he muttered, pulling out a notebook. "Come on."

You sat up with a groan and dragged yourself to the table, grabbing a pen. He didn't look at you when you settled beside him, but you caught the slight shift in his posture when your knee bumped his. He cleared his throat and started explaining covalent bonds.

You half-listened. You watched his mouth move instead.

His voice was smooth, confident. He was focused, leaning over your textbook, one hand pointing at a diagram, the other scribbling notes with clean, sharp handwriting.

He smelled like cheap body spray, shampoo and faint sweat from practice.

Your hand slipped onto his thigh.

"Tetsurou-kun," you said, all syrup and heat, "you can't seriously think you're here to actually study, right?"

He froze. Swallowed. Then, to your shock, lifted his gaze with forced calm.

"What am I?" he asked. "Some common whore you're gonna pay to fuck?"

The words cut sharper than you expected. Your smile faltered. You hadn't meant it like that. You weren't sure what you'd meant, actually. Suddently this whole thing felt a little shittier.

Your fingers twitched where they rested against his thigh, but you didn't pull them back.

"N-no," you muttered. "I just—" You exhaled, frustrated. "I didn't think this far ahead, okay?"

He watched you. Read through you. His expression softened a little, the edge in his voice gone. But he still didn't touch you.

You were about to say something else—maybe change the subject, maybe apologize—when he talked again, teasing.

"You actually want to learn this or not?"

You blinked, thrown off. "Huh?"

He held up the notebook. "Chemistry."

You stared at him. Then, grudgingly, nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

You leaned in, this time actually paying attention. Took notes. Bit your lip when he smirked at your compliments and felt your stomach tighten every time he laughed when you cursed at the confusing parts.

"Not gonna lie, you make this sound way easier than the teacher. What the fuck," you grumbled.

He seemed to like the praise, smiling beside you while he continued to explain.

His voice settled into your ears like warm honey. When you answered his questions right, he smirked. When you got one wrong, he nudged you with his knee and explained it again, slower this time.

You hated that he was good at this. That he made you want to keep going just to see the way his eyes lit up when you understood something.

Eventually, the lesson became background noise. Your focus shifted to the way his knee brushed yours, to the way he stole glances at your thighs like he didn't want to be caught but also didn't care enough to stop. To the way his fingers moved—long, elegant, tapping the page as he talked, not realising he was doing it.

His mouth, his voice, his brain—God, this was so much worse than you'd planned. He was actually hot and smart.

You were openly staring at his lips when he finally noticed.

"What?" he asked, brow arching.

"Nothing," you said, leaning back with a slow smirk. "Just wondering how you make covalent bonds sound hot."

That got a laugh, rough and short. But his ears were a little pink.

"Thought you liked ionic bonds more," he teased with a raised brow.

"Don't get me wrong, ionic bonds are cool. Covalent bonds are... hot."

"That's a new one," he said, voice low. "Gonna start rating chemistry terms by sex appeal now? Want me to whisper 'intermolecular forces' next?"

You snorted. "Don't tempt me. I might actually learn something."

"Blasphemy," he said, mock-scandalized. "You learning? In my presence? Next thing I know you'll be asking about valence electrons like you mean it."

You sat up, leaned in, and closed the book between you with a soft thud.

"Okay, I was good. I listened. Took notes. Didn't even flirt for twenty straight minutes." You raised a brow. "Now, when are you gonna stop pretending this is actually about chemistry?"

That wiped the grin off his face—but not entirely. It curved at the corners, wry and knowing. His gaze didn't leave yours. You saw the fraying edges of restraint, the tension vibrating between you.

"Isn't it?" he asked, the words almost gentle.

But his pupils blew wide when they dropped to your lips. You caught it. And still, you didn't move.

You weren't about to force it. A single "no" or even a flicker of hesitation from him and you were ready to throw in the towel, swallow your embarrassment for the rest of the session—maybe learn some more chemistry and then avoid him for the rest of your last school year. Hopefully, the rest of your life.

You let the silence hang a beat longer.

"Look..." you exhaled. "I'm not really good at this. I just pretend I am."

That caught him off guard.

He could tell—you were slick, but he was smart. Sharp enough to see through you and that overconfident persona you put on, but he hadn't expected you to admit it. Not like this. Not in your room, with his textbook sitting closed between your thighs. At least, he knew he wouldn't have.

You saw the shift immediately—his breath catching, his posture tightening ever so slightly.

"Huh," he said after a second. "Guess I'm not the only one bluffing their way through this study session."

"So you're saying you don't get turned on by covalent bonds?"

That earned a soft huff. He leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice low.

"Depends. Are you offering to share some electrons, or...?"

You laughed. His hand moved slowly, fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. And when he looked at you this time, it wasn't with that usual playful glint.

It was something raw. Like honesty.

"I like you," you admitted, tilting your head slightly. "But I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Good," he murmured. "Then we're even."

Then, slowly—finally—he leaned in to meet your lips.

Soft at first. Testing. But when you answered back—with a hunger he didn't expect—the leash snapped. His hand slid behind your neck, anchoring you against him as his mouth claimed yours. His tongue licked into your mouth with filthy, unhurried precision, dragging a whimper from your throat.

He kissed like he meant it. No fumbling. No hesitation.

You gasped when he tugged your hair just enough to tilt your head back, and the gasp melted into a moan when his other hand traced up your spine, pulling you closer—guiding you over to sit on his left thigh. Your fingers twisted into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing holding you up.

"You're all talk," he muttered against your lips, grinning when you shivered after a well-placed flex of his thigh. "But so am I."

You squeezed your eyes shut—dazed, aching, and a little embarrassed.

"...Shut up," you breathed, your usual sass caught somewhere between your throat and the pounding in your chest.

His smile turned downright wicked. His mouth dragged along your jaw, down your neck. You squirmed, knees bracketing his thigh as his hands slipped under your shirt, palms hot and rough against the bare skin of your back and waist.

"You don't have to act tough," he whispered, voice rough and reverent. "I think I like you more like this. Messy."

His mouth dipped to your collarbone, kissing and biting the sensitive skin. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Your head tilted back to give him more space, heart thudding so hard you thought it might crack your ribs. Your tough-girl act had fully melted now, replaced with the kind of hunger you'd been feeling since the first time you saw him—the kind of hunger you didn't know how to fake.

"God," you gasped. "You're not supposed to be good at this..."

He chuckled low in his throat, kissing a line down your chest. "Top of my class, remember?"

"Smart boy..." you growled—but it came out more like a broken, desperate plea. "If you don't—"

He cut you off with another kiss, deeper, devastating. His hands dragged up your stomach, slow and sure, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra with maddening patience.

You tried to shove him gently back, straddling his lap like you could wrestle some control back—but the second his dark, hungry gaze locked onto yours, you felt your composure crack.

"You sure you're inexperienced?" you asked, trying to tease—but your voice betrayed you, too breathless to land the hit.

He didn't even dignify it with a real answer. Just kissed you again, harder—tongue sweeping into your mouth like he fucking owned it. His hands clutched your hips like he was trying to brand himself into your bones, and after a small, involuntary moan slipped from your throat, you pulled back with a narrowed look, silently demanding a response.

He just shrugged. That maddening, smug little shrug. Like he hadn't just made your whole body tremble.

"I'm a fast learner," he said, trailing his mouth down your throat, voice dropping lower.

A shiver went up your spine as he bit down at your pulse point, and you whimpered, threading your fingers into his messy hair and tugging.

Still, you didn't stop him.

Didn't want to.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? To see if all that cocky arrogance and big-dick energy were just a front.

And judging by the thick length of him, already hard beneath you and pressing snug under your embarrassingly wet core...

You might've bitten off more than you could chew.

Kuroo unbuttoned your shirt slowly, peeled it off your shoulders, and tossed it aside—then paused for just a second.

His gaze was scorching.

Starving. Almost reverent.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed. "What a pain in the ass."

"Huh? Which one is it?" you whispered, smirking—until his mouth latched onto the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to make you tense a little. It burned in the best way—lingering and possessive.

He unclasped your bra like he'd done it a thousand times, and the second you were bare in front of him, his hands were everywhere—palming your tits, dragging his thumbs over your nipples until they were tight and sensitive. Squeezing. Claiming.

Then his mouth followed.

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

His tongue circled a nipple, then flicked it—slow at first, then rougher—and you arched with a soft, broken moan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips rolled. "You're dangerous."

He laughed against your skin, biting just enough to make you jolt.

"Top of my class," he muttered again—infuriating, smug, hot as hell.

You rocked down harder, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants, and his breath stuttered. He gripped your hips tighter—bruising—guiding your movement with a low, wrecked groan.

"Fuuuck..." he breathed. "Do that again."

You did—and something snapped.

His hands shot down to unzip your skirt, and you let him, lifting your hips so he could drag it off and toss it somewhere on your floor, leaving you in nothing but lace panties. Bare thighs. Wet as hell.

He didn't even strip off his shirt, still fully clothed—his mouth just went right back to you, trailing down your chest with a reverent slowness that made your pulse jackhammer. You felt his lips, his tongue, worshipping every inch like it meant something, while little groans and moans escaped his lips as you rode him over his pants.

His lips were swollen, your skin flushed, legs wrapped around him as he rolled his hips into yours, pressing you harder against his thick cock. His hands moved over your body like he owned it—confident, thorough, maddeningly slow.

And every time you thought you had control, he took it back.

Faster.

Rougher.

More deliberate.

His grip bruised. His tongue fucked into your mouth like he was chasing a high. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your folds, and your clit throbbed with every subtle shift of your hips against him. You didn't even care how obvious it was.

You wanted him. All of him.

Every time you rocked down onto the thick bulge in his pants, you could feel the friction spark—sharp, maddening, electric. The tension inside you built in waves, tightening with each grind, pressure curling low in your belly, spiraling toward something reckless.

You were right on the edge, strung so tight you felt like you'd snap if he so much as exhaled too close.

And the worst part? He was trying to keep quiet.

You could feel him trying—holding back. Swallowing grunts. Burying moans against your skin.

But they kept slipping out.

Low, desperate sounds tearing from his throat with each drag of your body against his cock. His breath caught every time you moved—hitching, stuttering, wrecked. You could feel it vibrate in his chest, in his mouth, in the fists he clenched on your hips like he was trying not to beg.

Oh you could only imagine he was a loud fucker.

Those sounds were unraveling you faster than anything else.

And still you kept grinding. Kept chasing the friction.

You were dizzy with it. Hot and wet and aching. So close you could barely breathe.

"Don't stop," you whispered—your voice low, needy. "Just... don't stop."

He froze.

Just for a beat.

Just long enough to make your heart lurch.

Then he leaned in, lips ghosting over your throat, collarbone, jawline.

"Oh, I'm not stopping right now," he said, voice rough like a sin. "I'm just choosing when."

You scoffed, tried to grind again—but his grip locked you down, holding you in place like you weighed nothing.

"God, you're..." He cut himself off with a ragged breath as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties—just barely. Teasing. "Didn't know you were this fucking greedy."

"I'm not," you argued. "But you are. You're so—fuck—you're cocky."

He laughed—quiet and mean—and you felt it echo through his mouth as it dragged over your bare tits again, tongue leaving wet, hot trails.

"If I keep going..." he murmured, lips ghosting over one aching nipple, "...I'm not going to stop."

You looked down at him, lips parted, chest heaving. "That's not a problem."

But he just stared at you—hungry, calculating. Controlled to a fucking fault.

"You're paying me to tutor you," he said.

Calm. Dangerous.

Like a warning—or like a reminder.

To you.

To himself.

Maybe both.

"And you think this is a game."

Your stomach flipped.

You didn't know if it was the way he said it—so calm and knowing—or the fact that he was absolutely right.

And then he leaned close, mouth brushing your ear, breath hot and voice fucking lethal.

"I'm not going to fuck you just because you're good at pretending you want me."

Your whole body locked.

Then his hand slid up between your legs, pressing against your clit—hard enough to make your spine curve, but still not enough to finish you.

"I'm going to make you mean it."

You moaned, hips bucking—but before you could chase it, he was already pulling away. Already lifting you off him.

Gone.

Just like that, the warmth of him was gone.

He stood, chest rising and falling, one hand dragging through his hair like he needed air.

The other palmed his cock through his pants—thick, straining—not even trying to hide it.

"I'll see you next Thursday," he said, voice maddeningly even. "For chemistry."

Then he smirked.

And walked out.

Left you half-naked, flushed and aching, sitting on the floor of your room.

Ruined.

Fucking prick.

tags. taglist open! let me know in the comments <3

Next chapter↪

[nizhspo]

genre: haikyuu imagine, fluff

pairing: atsumu miya x fem!reader

warning: none.

summary: a volleyball game, and atsumu miya, charming as always.

the bus ride to inarizaki feels like forever. you left before sunrise, half-asleep with your headphones on and a jacket over your jersey, but everyone’s hyped by the time you pull into their school lot. the gym is bigger than you expected, clean floors and high ceilings, and already packed with students filtering in.

their team is good. loud. sharp. tall.

but you’re better.

by the third set, your team’s rolling.

you and your setter are in sync today, every toss perfect, every hit clean. you land a sharp cross that hits the floor like a gunshot and hear someone from the stands go, “damn.” you don’t look, just jog back into position, but there’s a flicker of something warm in your chest.

up in the stands, atsumu miya is sitting with his little sister, her legs swinging off the bleacher edge, ponytail bouncing every time she gasps.

“who even is that?” he mutters, squinting at you from under his hoodie. “she’s good.”

his sister barely glances at him. “that’s y/n. she’s an outside hitter at fukurodani. she’s ranked in the top three for kill percentage in tokyo regionals.”

atsumu blinks. “how the hell you know all that?”

she shrugs. “i follow her team, duh. i want to be just like her.”

he looks back down at the court, mouth twitching at the corners. “…yeah. me too.”

your team wins in straight sets. inarizaki plays well, but your defense is too tight, and your offense doesn’t crack once. when the final whistle blows, your team huddles, cheering, the buzz of a good match still in your blood.

you’re still breathing heavy, patting sweat off your neck with a towel, when someone taps your shoulder.

you turn, and it’s him.

atsumu miya, inarizaki’s setter— the best in japan, actually.

blond. tall. ridiculously pretty up close. grinning like he’s always been this charming.

beside him is a girl, maybe middle school aged, holding something in her hands: your team’s mini roster printout.

“my sister wanted to meet you,” he says, like it wasn’t his idea at all.

she steps forward, eyes wide. ���you’re really cool. your spikes are my favorite. and i like how you smile after you land them, even when you’re tired.”

you smile back, heart softening. “you play too?”

she nods quickly. “club team. i’m a libero, but i’m working on hitting too. maybe i’ll play wing like you one day.”

you squat a little to her level despite your sore knees, voice warm. “then i’ll be cheering for you. you’ve already got the best cheerleader right here,” you nod toward atsumu. “just don’t let him distract you during practice.”

“i don’t.” she says flatly.

atsumu rolls his eyes. “wow, slander from both sides.”

you laugh, standing up again, and that’s when he hits you with it.

“so uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “i was gonna ask for your autograph but i don’t got a pen so… maybe your instagram instead?”

you blink, stunned for a second—but he’s so serious about it. goofy grin and everything.

you hand him your phone, still catching your breath. “only if your sister gets a follow too.”

he chuckles, typing quick. “deal.”

as he hands it back, he pauses. “you’re kinda gorgeous, y’know that?”

“you’re kinda obvious,” you shoot back.

he laughs again, already walking backwards with his sister. “see ya at nationals, superstar.”

you’re still smiling when your coach calls you over, cheeks warm even under sweat.

[burningfairytales]

People look at Bokuto and see a happy-go-lucky, carefree ray of sunshine and think, oh, he is a fool.

I mean I know people love him, but I am so, so upset that that is what he is reduced to.

Because Bokuto may be simple-minded, but a fool he is not.

(Let’s not even talk about the fact that Fukurodani seems to be a renowned private school and Japanese high schools have entrance exams. We know this, because Kageyama failed to get into Shiratorizawa, okay. He failed the exam.

So Bokuto getting into Fukurodani doesn’t exactly scream “idiot” to me. So he struggles with Japanese and Maths. Hell, if everyone was deemed stupid who didn’t excel in literally all of his classes, this would be a world of fools.

He also goes on to college and graduates. So he doesn’t know how taxes work. Hell, Sherlock Holmes didn’t know the earth revolves around the sun. People retain knowledge of stuff that they care about damnit. No one gives a shit about taxes.

I’m not calling him a genius here. He’s probably not exactly a top tier student. But please stop dumbing him down.)

But what I’m really talking about is that Bokuto is people-smart, okay. Like tell me he didn’t know exactly what made Akaashi tick. Tell me he didn’t know exactly what was wrong with him the second Akaashi started faltering.

He knew.

And he called him out on his bullshit in the exact same way Akaashi calls him out on his.

(It’s not just Akaashi btw. He knew exactly what was going through Yachi’s mind during the dumpster battle.)

And listen. During the training camp arc, Fukurodani vs Karasuno, where we first get to see Bokuto’s emo mode? It’s heavily implied by both Takeda and Ukai that Bokuto isn’t aware of how the team dynamics work, and as a reader, we believe this - because Bokuto appears to be so simple-minded. Because there don’t appear to be any hidden depths.

Because we never actually get to see the world through Bokuto’s eyes, but rather always Akaashi’s.

But being simple-minded doesn’t make you an idiot either. It just means that you have a different way of prioritising.

And then later, Bokuto has his moment. His “time for me to just be a regular ace” moment.

And we find out that he did know. He was completely aware that his team (and Akaashi, in all his well-intended manipulation) were coddling him.

(Don’t come for me; I ADORE Akaashi.)

Point is, he knows. And it was fine, because hey, it was easier anyway, and he knew he could count on his team to have his back.

But then Akaashi falters, and his team is struggling, and it’s Bokuto saying “you had my back all this time. Now let me have yours.”

Bokuto is not oblivious and he’s not a fool. His cheerfulness and optimism aren’t a sign of ignorance. They’re carefully cultivated. Because he knows what being lonely is like. He worked so, so hard towards his dream - not just to go pro, but to have fun playing volleyball. To become better at it so that he gets to enjoy it just a little bit more.

His good-heartedness is a goddamn choice, not some cradle-given virtue.

In this essay, i will-

[fayelero]

— CRAWLING BACK TO YOU ! bokuto kotaro

➥ syn : the volleyball captain finally realizes his feelings for you and confess in a…crawling way

➥ wc : 3.4k

➥ tw : just a crawling to the windows bokuto :)

➥ a/n : I FOUND A BIG IDEA even if I was in a lack of inspo since…days. Lmaooo enjoy reading ;)

The routine started innocently enough, just another day at Fukurodani Academy. The gymnasium buzzed with a symphony of sounds - volleyballs smacking against the polished floor, sneakers squeaking, and the cacophony of voices echoing off the high ceilings. Amidst this controlled chaos, one voice rang out above the rest, unmistakable in its enthusiasm and volume.

"Hey, hey, hey! Did you see that spike? It was like 'whoosh' and then 'bam'!"

Bokuto Koutarou, the ace and captain of Fukurodani's volleyball team, stood at the center of it all, his arms spread wide as if to embrace the entire gym. His hair, defying gravity in its trademark owl-like style, seemed to quiver with excitement. His golden eyes sparkled with an almost childlike glee that was infectious, spreading to his teammates like wildfire.

You couldn't help but smile as you leaned against the gym's entrance, your bag slung over your shoulder. This daily visit had become a cherished part of your routine, a moment of brightness before the long school day ahead. What had started as mere curiosity about the boisterous volleyball team had evolved into something more, something that centered around the whirlwind of energy that was Bokuto.

As if sensing your presence, Bokuto's head swiveled towards you, his face breaking into an even wider grin. "Hey! You're here!" he shouted, waving enthusiastically.

You waved back, your heart doing a little flip in your chest. It was time for your daily ritual.

Sauntering over to where Bokuto stood, you took in his appearance - the way his practice shirt clung to his muscular frame, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his hair somehow remained perfectly styled despite the rigorous practice.

"Morning, Bokuto," you said, infusing your voice with a teasing lilt. "I see your hair is defying the laws of physics as usual. What's your secret? Super glue?"

Bokuto blinked, then let out a booming laugh that reverberated through the gym. "Nah, it's all natural! Cool, right?" He ran a hand through his spikes, preening slightly. "Maybe I was just born to be a star!"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Oh, definitely. You're practically glowing." Your tone was playful, but there was a hint of sincerity in your words that you couldn't quite hide.

However, as always, the nuance seemed to fly right over Bokuto's head. He beamed at you, taking your words at face value. "Thanks! I did have a good breakfast this morning. Gotta fuel up to be the ace, you know!"

You nodded sagely, fighting back a fond smile. "Of course. Can't have our star player running on empty."

This was how it always went. You'd drop a flirtatious comment, and Bokuto would respond with endearing obliviousness. It was frustrating at times, but you couldn't deny the charm in his innocent reactions. There was something refreshing about his straightforward nature, his inability to pick up on subtle cues. In a world of complex social dynamics and hidden meanings, Bokuto was an open book - one that you found yourself wanting to read over and over again.

As the days passed, your flirtations became bolder, your compliments more direct. Yet, Bokuto remained blissfully unaware, accepting your words with the same enthusiastic gratitude he showed when receiving a perfect set on the court.

One particularly memorable morning, you decided to up your game. Bokuto had just executed a powerful spike, the ball slamming onto the other side of the court with a resounding 'thwack'. As his teammates cheered, you caught his eye and gave him a slow, deliberate wink.

"Nice kill, ace," you called out, your voice low and appreciative. "You know, you're pretty amazing when you're all fired up like that."

Bokuto's chest puffed up with pride, but his response was as innocently enthusiastic as ever. "Thanks! I feel like I could take on the whole world right now!" He pumped his fist in the air, oblivious to the double meaning in your words.

You sighed inwardly, equal parts amused and exasperated. It was like flirting with a particularly cheerful brick wall.

It wasn't until a quiet afternoon, when the usual bustle of the gym had died down, that things began to shift. Practice had been particularly grueling that day, and even Bokuto's seemingly endless reserves of energy seemed depleted. He sat on the bench, absent-mindedly toweling off his sweat-dampened hair, his usual vibrant demeanor subdued.

Akaashi Keiji, the team's setter and Bokuto's closest friend, observed him with a mix of concern and curiosity. It was rare to see Bokuto so contemplative, and Akaashi knew from experience that a quiet Bokuto often preceded either a brilliant insight or a spectacular mood swing.

"Something on your mind, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asked, his voice calm and measured as always.

Bokuto looked up, seeming almost surprised to find Akaashi there. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, his brow furrowing in concentration. Finally, he blurted out, "Akaashi, you're smart about people stuff, right?"

Akaashi blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "I... suppose so. Why do you ask?"

Bokuto ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed his nervousness. "It's about [y/n]," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "She come around a lot, right?"

Akaashi nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had noticed your frequent visits and the way you interacted with Bokuto. Unlike his captain, Akaashi was perceptive enough to recognize flirtation when he saw it. "Yes, she does," he confirmed, wondering where Bokuto was going with this.

"Well," Bokuto continued, his words coming out in a rush, "she always says these things. Nice things, you know? About my hair, or my plays, or just... me. And it feels different from when other people say nice things. It makes me feel all..." He gestured vaguely at his chest, struggling to find the right words.

Akaashi's smile grew a little wider. "Warm? Fluttery?" he suggested gently.

Bokuto's eyes widened. "Yeah! Exactly! How did you know?"

Akaashi took a deep breath, realizing that he was about to open Bokuto's eyes to a whole new world. "Bokuto-san," he said carefully, "have you considered that [y/n] might be flirting with you?"

The look of utter bewilderment on Bokuto's face would have been comical if it weren't so genuine. "Flirting?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "Like... trying to be my friend?"

Akaashi couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Not exactly," he explained patiently. "Flirting is a way of showing romantic interest in someone. It's like... testing the waters to see if there's a mutual attraction."

Bokuto's jaw dropped, his eyes growing impossibly wide. "Romantic interest? You mean... [y/n] might like me? Like, like-like me?"

Akaashi nodded, amused by Bokuto's childlike phrasing but touched by his innocent reaction. "It's very possible. She's been giving you a lot of compliments and attention. Those are often signs of flirting."

Bokuto fell silent, a rare occurrence that Akaashi knew signaled deep thought. He could almost see the gears turning in Bokuto's head as he replayed every interaction with you in this new light.

After a long moment, Bokuto spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Akaashi... I think I might like her too. Like, like-like her."

Akaashi felt a surge of affection for his friend. For all his bravado on the court, Bokuto could be endearingly vulnerable when it came to matters of the heart. "That's great, Bokuto-san," he said warmly. "Have you thought about telling her how you feel?"

Excitement flashed across Bokuto's face, his golden eyes lighting up with newfound understanding. "Tell her? Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? This is gonna be great!"

Akaashi blinked, a bit taken aback by Bokuto's sudden enthusiasm. "You're... not worried about how she might respond?"

Bokuto let out his signature booming laugh. "Worried? Nah! I'm the ace, aren't I? I've got this!" He puffed out his chest, his earlier doubts completely forgotten. "Besides, [y/n] is always saying nice things to me. She's gotta like me, right?"

A small smile tugged at Akaashi's lips. This was the Bokuto he knew - confident, enthusiastic, and ready to take on any challenge. "Well, if you're sure, Bokuto-san. Just remember to be respectful of her feelings, whatever she may be."

"Hey, hey, hey! Of course I will!" Bokuto exclaimed, jumping to his feet with renewed energy. "I'm gonna sweep her off their feet with my awesome confession! It'll be like my best spike ever, but with words!"

As practice wound down and the team began to disperse, Bokuto's mind was buzzing with excitement. He replayed every interaction with you, seeing them in a new light. The compliments, the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to seek him out - it all made perfect sense now.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, matching Bokuto's mood as he practically bounced into the gym. His enthusiasm was palpable, radiating off him in waves that his teammates couldn't help but notice.

"Someone's in a good mood," Konoha remarked, raising an eyebrow at Bokuto's even-more-exuberant-than-usual demeanor.

"Of course I am!" Bokuto exclaimed, his grin threatening to split his face. "Today's gonna be awesome!"

As the team began their warm-ups, Bokuto's eyes kept darting to the gym entrance. Any moment now, you would walk in, and he would sweep you off your feet with his amazing confession. He had it all planned out in his head - he'd stride up to you confidently, flash his best smile, and tell you exactly how he felt. It was foolproof.

But when you finally did appear in the doorway, something unexpected happened. Bokuto felt his words die in his throat.

You stood there, backlit by the morning sun streaming through the windows, and Bokuto felt as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your hair caught the light, creating a soft halo effect. Your eyes sparkled with warmth as they met his, and your smile - that smile he'd seen a hundred times before - suddenly seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

"Morning, Bokuto!" you called out cheerfully, completely unaware of the internal crisis you'd just sparked in the volleyball captain.

Bokuto opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. His mind, usually filled with thoughts of volleyball and little else, was now entirely occupied by you. He noticed things he'd never paid attention to before - the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gentle curve of your neck, the grace in your movements as you walked towards him.

"Bokuto?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern as you approached. "Are you okay? You're being awfully quiet."

Bokuto nodded dumbly, still unable to form words. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be confident, charismatic, sweeping you off your feet with his awesome confession. Instead, he found himself struck silent, in awe of your presence in a way he'd never experienced before.

From across the gym, Akaashi watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. He'd never seen Bokuto so flustered before, especially not in front of you.

"Earth to Bokuto," you waved a hand in front of his face, your tone a mix of amusement and worry. "Did you lose your voice or something?"

Bokuto shook his head, trying to snap out of his daze. "N-no, I'm fine!" he finally managed to stammer out. "Just... thinking about... volleyball stuff!"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but decided to let it slide. "Okay, if you say so. Well, don't let me interrupt your practice. I just wanted to say hi before class."

As you turned to leave, Bokuto felt a surge of panic. This was his chance, he had to say something! But all that came out was a weak, "Bye!"

You glanced back, giving him a slightly puzzled smile before heading out of the gym. Bokuto watched you go, his heart pounding in his chest.

emo mode activated.

Once you were out of sight, he slumped to the floor, burying his face in his hands. "Akaashi!" he wailed, loud enough for the entire team to hear. "What just happened?"

Akaashi jogged over, crouching down beside his captain. "I believe, Bokuto-san," he said gently, "that you just experienced what it's like to be truly smitten."

Bokuto peeked out from between his fingers, his golden eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. "But... but I had a plan! I was going to be all cool and stuff! Instead, I just... froze up!"

Akaashi patted Bokuto's shoulder comfortingly. "It happens to the best of us, Bokuto-san. Sometimes, when we realize how much we care about someone, it can be overwhelming."

Bokuto slowly lowered his hands, his expression shifting from distress to determination. "Then... then I'll just have to try again! Yeah! I won't let this setback defeat me!"

As Bokuto jumped to his feet, his usual energy returning, Akaashi couldn't help but smile. This was going to be an interesting journey for his captain, and he had a feeling it was far from over.

"Alright, everyone!" Bokuto shouted, his voice echoing through the gym. "Let's practice hard! I've got a confession to nail!"

The team exchanged confused glances, but shrugged and got back to their drills. After all, this was Bokuto - and with him, anything could happen.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. Bokuto trudged home, his usual boundless energy depleted after an especially grueling practice. He'd pushed himself harder than ever, trying to work out the frustration of his failed confession attempt.

As he walked, his mind wandered back to you. The way you'd looked in the morning sunlight, the concern in your eyes when he'd fumbled his words, the gentle curve of your smile as you'd said goodbye. Each memory sent a flutter through his chest, a sensation he was still getting used to.

Suddenly, Bokuto stopped in his tracks. A memory hit him like a spike to the face - that time you'd walked home together because he'd discovered you lived in the same neighborhood. Without a second thought, he pivoted on his heel and broke into a run, his exhaustion forgotten.

The streets blurred past as Bokuto sprinted, his heart pounding with a mixture of exertion and anticipation. He skidded around corners, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, until finally, he found himself on your street.

Panting heavily, Bokuto approached your house. The lights were still on in what he remembered was your bedroom. For a moment, doubt crept in. What was he doing? It was late, you were probably getting ready for bed, and here he was, about to...

Well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was about to do. But he was Bokuto Koutarou, and backing down wasn't in his nature.

With the agility of the ace spiker he was, Bokuto began to scale the side of your house. He'd never been more grateful for his athletic prowess as he carefully made his way up, using drainpipes and window ledges as handholds. 

Finally, he reached your window. Through the glass, he could see you sitting at your desk, engrossed in a book. You were wearing soft-looking pajamas, your hair slightly mussed, and Bokuto felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against the glass.

The effect was instantaneous. You jumped in your chair, the book flying from your hands as you whirled to face the window. Your eyes widened in shock as you recognized Bokuto, perched precariously outside your second-story window.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the absurdity of the situation rendering you both speechless. Then, snapping out of your shock, you rushed to open the window.

"Bokuto?!" you hissed, your voice a mix of concern and disbelief. "What on earth are you doing? Get in here before you fall!"

You helped him clamber through the window, your hands gripping his arm tightly as if afraid he might tumble backward at any moment. Once he was safely inside, you stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Okay, explain," you demanded, your brow furrowed. "Why are you climbing through my window at..." you glanced at your clock, "11:30 at night?"

Bokuto stood there, suddenly very aware that he was in your bedroom, with you in your pajamas, looking adorably rumpled and confused. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, words failing him for the second time that day.

"I... uh..." he stammered, his usual confidence deserting him once again. His eyes darted around your room, taking in the volleyball posters (including one of him, which made his heart leap), the neatly organized bookshelf, the stuffed owl on your bed that he'd won for you at a festival last year.

You sighed, your expression softening. "Bokuto, are you okay? You've been acting strange all day. First, you barely said a word this morning, and now you're scaling buildings in the middle of the night. What's going on?"

Something in your tone, the genuine concern in your eyes, seemed to flip a switch in Bokuto. He stood up straighter, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"[Y/N]," he said, his voice steady and filled with his usual enthusiasm. "I like you!"

The words hung in the air between you, Bokuto's chest heaving as if he'd just finished a five-set match.

"I mean," he continued, the words now flowing freely, "I really, really like you. Akaashi made me realize it yesterday, and then this morning you looked so beautiful I couldn't even speak, which never happens to me, you know? And I've been thinking about you all day, about how you always come to watch our practices, and how you laugh at my jokes, and how you make me feel all 'gwah' inside."

He paused, taking a deep breath before flashing you his trademark grin. "So yeah, I like you. A lot. And I climbed up here tonight because I couldn't wait another minute to tell you. Because you're amazing, and I want to spike all my tosses for you, if you know what I mean."

As his words sank in, your shocked expression slowly transformed. A blush crept across your cheeks, and a smile began to tug at the corners of your mouth.

"Bokuto," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "I like you too. I've been trying to tell you for months now."

Bokuto's eyes widened, his grin growing impossibly wider. "Really? That's... that's awesome! Hey he-"

His exuberant shout echoed through your quiet room, and you quickly placed a hand over his mouth, your eyes wide with alarm.

"Shh!" you whispered urgently, your heart racing. "My family is sleeping, and they definitely don't need to know that a boy climbed into my room tonight!"

Bokuto's eyes widened in understanding, and you felt his lips curve into a smile beneath your palm. Slowly, you removed your hand, your fingertips grazing his lips in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," he whispered, his voice unusually soft. "I got excited. But can you blame me? The girl I like just said she likes me back!"

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, even as you glanced nervously at your bedroom door. "I do like you, Bokuto. A lot. But maybe next time, try confessing at a more reasonable hour? And preferably through the front door?"

Bokuto grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away. But hey, it worked, didn't it?"

As you both stood there, smiling at each other in the dim light of your bedroom, the full absurdity of the situation hit you. Here was Bokuto, the boy you'd been pining after for months, standing in your bedroom in the middle of the night, having just confessed his feelings for you in the most Bokuto way possible.

Your heart swelled with affection. Despite the late hour, despite the risk of getting caught, despite the unconventional method - or perhaps because of all these things - this moment felt perfect. It was so utterly, completely Bokuto, and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

"So," Bokuto whispered, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief and joy, "what happens now?"

You glanced at your clock, then back at Bokuto, a mix of excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. This was just the beginning, and you had a feeling life with Bokuto was going to be quite an adventure.

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[4unnyr0se]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :haikyuu masterlist: :;

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fics | smut

❥ nepenthe | kotaro bokuto

➥ bokuto's in a slump because he's missing all his spikes, and the only person who can cheer him up is msby's prettiest manager

❥ meddle about | kenma kozume

➥ kenma is forced to attend a work-related party. he runs into a model that works closely with lev, and she's into him

❥ que linda | shoyo hinata

➥ homesick, hinata jumps on the first plane to japan and hits up his old manager that he had a massive tiny crush on

❥ elysian | koshi sugawara

➥ sugawara and the art teacher bond over cleaning up glue and macaroni, which blossoms into something more

❥ ohmami | hajime iwaizumi

➥ iwaizumi runs into his high school best friend at the gym he works at, and it's too dark for her to walk back home all by herself. so obviously he's a gentleman and drives her

❥ moth to a flame | toru oikawa

➥ oikawa hates ushijima with every bone in his body. turns out his ex-girlfriend feels the same way. why make him furious by making a sex tape?

❥ shameless | kei tsukishima

➥ you and tsukishima have been enemies since high school. you enroll in sendai university thinking that you have finally escaped him and his stupid good looks. you were wrong.

❥ apple cider | tobio kageyama

➥ tobio is failing his biology class, specifically struggling with the human anatomy unit. who's better than to tutor him than the annoyingly smart hot nerd girl?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fics | fluff

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

➥ boktuo and his schoolboy crush

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ drabbles | smut

❥ tsukishima plays the waiting game | part i | part ii |

➥ tsukishima has a crush, but he bides his time

❥ tsukishima and asphyxiation

➥ tsukishima's little girlfriend likes his hands around her neck

❥ kuroo as your boss

➥ kuroo and his sexy new employee

❥ matching with haikyuu captains on tinder | part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

➥ captains match with you on tinder

❥ pretty and possessive

➥ possessive! oikawa meets you at a party

❥ eat it from the back!

➥ kenma and akaashi eat it from the back

❥ til your teeth rot!

➥ how akaashi, osamu, kenma, and bokuto eat it

❥ morning breath

➥ morning sex with kenma and suna

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ drabbles | multiple | smut

❥ caught ya!

➥ catching you masturbating

❥ fuckin with the pretty setter squad | part i

➥ how the members of the pretty setter squad fuck

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ smau | smut

❥ spicy insta post reaction | part i | part ii |

➥ reacting to you posting a spicy pic on insta

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ headcanons | smut

❥ yuu nishinoya & morisuke yaku

➥ sfw & nsfw

❥ tobio kageyama

➥ sfw & nsfw

[strwbrryeyes]

nini !! :3 how about… bokuto havin’ a big ol’ crush on a shy girl ?? how do they get together ?? maybe his crush on her gets exposed… and he’s super surprised she likes him back ?? let your mind run free with it !! <333

𖦹°｡⋆ Hiding feelings (and behind volleyball carts) (bokuto x reader)

⟡ cw: shy reader, she/her pronouns, fluff, comfort? but no hurt, fainting, not proofread, lmk if i missed anything.

⟡ a/n: trying to come out of my writer's block so I'm going to start with requests before continuing the last legs of my best friend series and then officially starting my suna long fic. also im trying to start putting pronouns in cw's so bear with me if i ever forget to add that warning. also ty lene for requesting this! i'll do your other one at a later time :3 sorry if it's messy im rusty </3

“You’re staring at her again, Bo” konoha snaps bokuto out of the trance he’s in.

“I can’t help it! She’s so pretty” Bokuto responds in a lovesick tone as he turns back around to look at you with hearts practically forming in his pupils.

“It’s hopeless, he’s never going to man up enough to ask her out properly.” Komi sighs causing the rest of the team to nod in defeat.

“He’s going to have to eventually, he’s liked her since their first year and now they’re entering the end of their last year in high school.” Akaashi states as he watches his best friend fall more in love with you as you laugh with Yukie and Kaori.

Bokuto Koutaro has had the fattest crush on you since first year of high school. You were sat next to him so naturally he really tried to get to know you but you never really opened up to him. You didn’t have many friends (you still don’t), you only had two friends, luckily for Bokuto, those friends were Fukurodani’s very own manageers, Yukie and Kaori. There were countless times where Bokuto would beg the two girls to convince you to come watch during practice so he could show off and seem cool to you. Sometimes you would come to practice just so you could spend more time with your two best friends, and while you were impressed by Bokuto, all you could manage to give him was a small smile and a single thumbs up. Even though it wasn’t much, it still made Bokuto melt on the spot. Everything about you was wonderful to him, the epitome of beauty, sweetness, and kindness, all he was missing was your affection and love.

After a few more minutes, the coach calls for the break the team was on to be over and everyone goes back to their places while you remain on the bleachers. As you wave to your friends, you see Bokuto looking at you with a soft smile, much different from his usual big, large, and bright grin that he wears everywhere. You don’t know what it is about it, but this makes you blush. Maybe you sense that it’s different, maybe it’s wishful thinking that that smile is only meant for you, after all you did have a crush on him. You’ve had a crush on him as long as he’s had a crush on you but you could never say anything to him for the fear you might get rejected. After all, he was the most extroverted person in school - maybe the world - and you were just…there…exisitng with only two close friends. You could never be Bokuto’s type. You’ve been saying this for three years to yourself all while you don’t know the truth about how he feels.

Practice is finally over after about an hour and you go down to the main floor to get ready to leave with Yukie and Kaori while the boys go to the lockeroom to change. The three of you talk for a bit before the coach calls them to help with cleaning the gym leaving you alone again. You take this time to walk around the gym as you never really looked around before. You see all these posters and banners with the team’s motto “one ball, heart, and soul”. you smile at the saying as you think about how this is seen in all of the players. All of the boys on the volleyball team shows their love and passion for the game but of course, one player stood out from all the rest, Bokuto. You find yourself thinking about Bokuto and all the ways he shows his love for the sport. Every move he makes, every serve he does, every cheer he shouts, and every grin he has plastered on his face when he scores. You loved that grin. 

You’re deep in thought when you hear the gym door open and hear voices the belong to the boys on the volleyball team.  Scared of being seen, you hide behind the volleyball cart. It’s not like you were doing anything wrong, you just really hated social situations and you don’t know where Yukie and Kaori disappeared off to even though they were just in the gym moments ago. You feel a bit of nervousness start to kick in as you hear their voices get closer and that’s when you hear your name causing you to snap out of your nerves and to listen in.

“Did you see the way [name] smiled when I did that serve today?” The voice belonging to Bokuto asked excitedly followed by a chorus of groans by the other team members.

“Yes Bokuto,” Akaashi sighs as he waves goodbye to the rest of the team who are speedwalking out of the gym to avoid Bokuto’s gushing “and before you ask, yes I saw how she looked at you when you nearly knocked Washio’s hand off with your spike.”

“She’s the best isn’t she?” Bokuto asks as he sits down on a bench in the gym. “I just wish I could tell her that but I’m scared she’ll run away.”  He says calmly to Akaashi who raises a brow.

“Why would she run away?” Akaashi questions Bokuto’s reasoning to why he can’t tell you how he feels.

“Well you know how quiet and shy she is,” Bokuto starts off “and you know how loud I am. What if [name] doesn’t like that? I don’t want her to hate me just because we have clashing personalities.” He explains to his best friend in a slightly defeated tone making you furrow your eyebrows as you slowly peek over the volleyball cart to get a quick look at the ace and setter.

Akaashi chuckles a bit before responding to Bokuto “First off, I’m surprised you’re self aware at how loud you are,” he says earning a ‘watch it’ from Bokuto, “Secondly, I really think you should tell her how you feel. The end of the school year is coming up and who is to say you’ll ever see her again? You really want to leave high school without even trying?” Akaashi asks Bokuto making him think for a while before he shakes his head.

“I just can’t do it, Akaashi.” Bokuto slumps while sitting while Akaashi pats his back. Right now, in Bokuto’s mind, he thinks he’d be better off keeping his feelings to himself instead of the possibility of rejection. Meanwhile, your mind is going a million miles per second as you just found out that the guy you’ve had the biggest crush on for years feels the same way. what do you do now? Come out of hiding and tell him how you feel? No, that’s too bold and he might think you’re weird for eavesdropping like this. What about just waiting for him to confess? Nope, he made it sounds like he wasn’t going to tell you for sure.

After what feels like forever with your thoughts, you hear the door next to the volleyball cart open to see Yukie and Kaori. Your eyes quickly widen and hurry to shush them before they say anything but it fails as they walk towards you.

“Sorry we took so long [name], coach had us do some pape- what are you doing behind there?” Yukie asks as she moves the cart out of the way earning her a glare from you. Meanwhile, a few feet away, Akaashi and Bokuto are staring at you with their jaws practically on the floor.

“What’s up with you two?” Kaori asks as she walks over to them, waving her hand in fron of their eyes while they’re still in complete shock. Akaashi is the first to snap out of it, he then shakes Bokuto who somewhat comes to his senses. 

Turning to look down at you still on the floor, Akaashi clears his throat “[name], I thought you left already.” Akaashi tries to say cooly as he glances to Bokuto quickly who is still in shock.

“Haa…nope! Still here!” you laugh nervously as you’re pulled up from the ground by Kaori and Yukie who give each other confused looks.

“So out of curiosity, no other reason…” Akaashi starts off coyly as he sways a bit “how much of our conversation did you hear…” he asks in a quiet nervous tone.

“Not much!” you start to answer with a lie but couldn’t help yourself “okay that was a lie I heard everything!” you blurt out and Akaashi widens his eyes and quickly turns back to Bokuto who is still on the bench. He quickly rushes to catch Bokuto who is about to fall off of the bench as he looks like his soul has left his body completely. Bokuto has passed out.

While everyone sits around Bokuto’s passed out body, you and Akaashi explain everything to Kaori and Yukie who end up laughing their heads off.

“[name]! That’s hilarious! I’m so glad we left you here!” Kaori cackles out before calming down and standing up. “Now you have to confess to him.” She says seriously as Yukie stands up as well. You facepalm and turn to look at Akaashi who has a confused look on his face.

“You like Bokuto back, [name]?” He asks and you nod making him look back to the two managers “and the both of you knew and didn’t say anything? Even though you knew they both liked each other back?” he questions them and they laugh nervously.

“Well would you look at the time! We gotta go!” Yukie shouts as her and Kaori run out of the gym leaving you behind with both of the boys.

Sighing, Akaashi looks at you softly. “[name], I know we aren’t close by any means but Bokuto is my best friend and I think it would really benefit the both of you if you both talked about your feelings. Can you do that?” Akaashi explains and asks you. You think for a bit before sighing and nodding.

“I can do that. Thank you, Akaashi.” you thank the setter while smiling.

“Well then, I’ll leave you two to it,” Akaashi stands up and looks at Bokuto’s body still splayed out on the ground “he’ll wake up in a bit don’t worry.” He assures you before walking out of the gym before you could even protest to being alone with Bokuto. Akaashi was right though, it only took one minute after he left for Bokuto to start waking up.

“Hey Bokuto.” you smile sweetly at Bokuto as his eyes flutter open. He stares up at you in confusion for a bit before he remembers what happens and quickly sits up.

“[name]! Hi! Listen I’m so sorry I understand if you hate me now but please don’t run awa-” Bokuto starts rambling out an apology before you start giggling “What’s funny? Are you not mad? Are you making fun of me?” more panic overtakes Bokuto but you get ahold of his hands and look at him.

“Bo,” you catch his attention using a nickname which also makes him blush “don’t worry about it. I’m not mad and i’m not making fun of you.” you let out a sigh and close your eyes before continuing “Honestly, I have a crush on you too, I have since first year. I never told you because I was worried you would think I’m too quiet or too boring…basically your reason but the opposite,” you let a nervous giggle out before opening your eyes up again “I know you didn’t want me to find out like this so I I understand if you don’t want to talk about this right now.” You finish your own rambling and look up at Bokuto who looks like he’s frozen. “Bokuto?” you say his name and it snaps him out of his daze and a few seconds later, Bokuto’s face is centimeters away from your face making you blush like crazy and have your heart beating loud and fast.

“Do you really like me? You’re not just saying that?” Bokuto asks seriously as his golden eyes stare into your own eyes and you nod which makes him let go of your hands and jump up to cheer. After a few more louds noises of excitement and happiness, Bokuto holds his hand out in front of you to pull you up to which you offer. After being pulled up to your feet, Bokuto brings you in for a tight hug, catching you off guard but you end up hugging him back. “I’m so happy to hear that, [name].” He mumbles into your hair quietly making you giggle.

You pull back a bit to smile up at him “I’m really happy too, Bo.” you use his nickname again causing him to audibly swoon.

“I love hearing you say that,” he sighs lovingly as he closes his eyes before looking back at you “and I love you..” he whispers but then quickly panics as your eyes widen in response “I’m so sorry is it too soon? Oh my god I haven’t even asked you to be my girlfriend yet, I’m an idiot.” Bokuto rambles once again before you cut him off by kissing him on the cheek.

“Stop apologizing and worrying,” you chuckle as you look at his flushed, red face “I love you too…I don’t care if it’s too soon, I know I do.” you smile sweetly at him making him calm down

“Well then, [name], will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” Bokuto asks you quietly, smiling the same soft smile from earlier. The one you wanted to believe was made for you.

“Of course, Bokuto, I would love to be your girlfriend!” You answer him with joy and his smile grows bigger and...yeah, that smile was made for you and only you. Bokuto then picks you up and spins you around before giving you a soft kiss on the lips to which you kiss him back. 

After a few seconds you both pull away and look at each other with so much love before you’re both surprised to hear cheering coming from outside the the gym. Turning to look out the window, you see Kaori, Yukie, and Akaashi staring inside from the other side of the window. The sight make the both of you smile widely before Bokuto sets you on the ground again to grab his things.

“Shall we go?” Bokuto takes your hand in his and gestures towards your friends and the door.

“Yes we shall.” You respond after kissing his cheek. 

The both of you then walk out of the gym to join your three friends outside to walk home, but not before Bokuto yells out “[name] is my girlfriend!” in the loudest voice he could possibly let out causing you to bury your face in his side while the others laugh at him. 

This relationship is going to be fun.

[deaddriv-talks]

GUYS LOOK

[kings-highway]

Okay its 130 in the morning and this is a thought ive had for a while so bear with me while I write it, but obviously everyone is familiar with Bokuto from Haikyuu and also everyone is familiar with all the owl jokes. Like Bokuto in fics is always obsessed with owls and he's obviously designed to vaguely resemble an owl and have owlish mannerisms and anyway I don't know if anyone has been pointing fingers at fics like "bleh its so annoying that ppl always make Bokuto obsessed with owls theres literally no canon material for it" and thats true to a degree. Technically we never see Bokuto say that he likes Owls the Birds in any specific way. BUT i do feel compelled to defend Owlboy Bokuto as much as possible so I am here to tell you why I think an Owl-loving Bokuto is actually the most accurate thing in my opinion

And it's really simple. The Fukurodani mascot in an Owl. Bokuto doesn't "love Owls more than other animals," and he certainly didnt in middle school. He probably had a whole host of favourite animals. Maybe he never even thought about owls. And then he joins this team and we KNOW Bokuto loves his team more than anything and I don't know about you guys but high school is weird. Thinking back on it is a mix of complete nostalgia and pure grief and anxiety. But it becomes a part of you, its like your first real identity, being in high school. But bokuto joins this team and suddenly theyre "the Owls." "Everyone give it up for the Fukurodani Owls!" And maybe there's even a guy in an Owl costume at some kind of school event. Idk. Anyway, he starts pointing them out, and gets really excited when he sees them. Because oh my god! Thats us! Isnt that funny? And the more he plays with this team the more he feels like the Owl is a part of him. Thats their mascot! Thats their bird, their animal, and maybe he used to say his favourite animal was a wolf or a tiger or whatever but now he says Owl because thats him!!! And all his friends!!!! Thats his family!!! Theyre owls!!! And so he does get really excited when he sees them. And he goes out of his way to point them out if he sees them at night and he absolutely looses his mind at a zoo when he gets to hold an Owl because he's "been" an Owl for 3 years and it feels like it belongs to him. It feels like its a part of his identity the same way being male or being tall or being an athlete is. He is an owl. And he loves owls.

And then one day he graduates and years pass and now when he sees an owl at 1am and he gets so excited and starts pointing it out to his friends, none of them get why he cares so much, but he knows. He's not seeing a cool bird, he's remembering how it felt to be 17 and walking into a championship match. He's remembering his favourite team he ever played with, he's remembering Akaashi and the old route he used to walk to school and the lunches his mom packed and the feeling he got when they appointed him captain, when they told him they trusted him to be the leader of the Owls.

And he'll try and convince his new friends of how cool owls are. He'll start spewing owl facts like a machine, about different species and how fast they can fly and what they eat and where they live and oddly he seems to be able to identify owl species super accurately and his new friends will all laugh and call him the owl-loving weirdo. They'll consider him just a guy who loves owls (the bird) a lot. And they'll make jokes about it and buy him a t-shirt with an owl on it and they just wont get it. They'll think it's just his favourite animal. And it is. But not like that.

And then when he gets home, even if it's 2am, he sends a picture of that owl he'd seen to the old Fukurodani groupchat and for some godforsaken reason Akaashi is up working on his own projects and he sends back support for the owl Bokuto saw and then every other Fukurodani alumni starts berating Akaashi for being up so late and admonishing him for not preparing better for deadlines and they get into a big argument about procrastination and what time Akaashi should be going to bed while the editor fights for his life in the chat and Bokuto isn't really commenting anymore, he's just reading the messages that flood in, and he loves it, he loves this feeling, because the truth is the chat hadn't been used in about 2 months. But they all love getting Bokuto's Owl Watch Updates, even if nobody paid attention to the picture, because for just 1 hour at 2 in the morning a handful of old high school friends are called together to be a team again despite their new and different lives.

So sure Bokuto gets branded by people who don't understand it as just being weirdly obsessed with owls, but they're good animals. He'll tell them as much. They're good birds. They should be everyone's favourite animal, he thinks. And he'll continue sending photos of owls into a 10 year old group chat, and he'll continue memorizing facts about them, and he will continue to be reminded of the absolute best people he knows every time he gets to see one. So he thinks that's worth being excited about.

So yeah, I think owls are Bokuto's favourite animal, even though there's no canon evidence to suggest it.

[yukkiji]

first draft

married life with akaashi is quiet and steady, filled with soft glances and shared silences. you’ve known him since high school—bokuto’s little sister tagging along to practice, him the quiet setter with a book in hand. now, you're older, married, and something new is blooming in your chest—a quiet, hopeful feeling you're almost afraid to name.

chapters of us. haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, domestic fluff, timeskip!akaashi, reader and akaashi are married

wc: 1k

author's note: first chapter of the series is up!

the house is quiet except for the scratch of pencil against paper and the slow ticking of the wall clock. golden lamplight spills across the living room floor, catching on the edges of mugs, half-folded laundry, and the soft curve of your husband’s brow as he reads.

akaashi is cross-legged on the couch beside you, dressed in a hoodie you’ve threatened to steal too many times to count. his glasses slide slightly down the bridge of his nose, and his pencil moves with the fluidity of habit as he marks up the pages of a manuscript on his lap. he hasn’t noticed that you’ve stopped reading your book. you’ve been watching him for the last five minutes.

not that he’d mind. he’s always noticed your gaze, always looked up from whatever he was doing to meet it, to share a small smile like a secret only the two of you understand.

you trace your wedding band with your thumb. it catches the lamplight, shimmering like the day he put it there—his hands shaking just slightly, voice steady despite the pink in his cheeks.

you’d never forget the way his eyes looked at the altar: like he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten this lucky, but he’d spend the rest of his life making sure he didn’t lose it.

you hadn’t expected to fall for akaashi when you first met him. back then, you were bokuto’s loud little sister, all wide eyes and energy, sticking your nose into fukurodani practice just to pester him. akaashi had barely said two words to you that first week, his eyes always following your brother, calm and unreadable.

but then… you caught him laughing at something you said.

not just polite laughter either—the real kind. eyes crinkled, shoulders relaxed, voice low and warm. after that, he stopped looking through you and started looking at you. and one day—years later, when you were both older and clumsier with your feelings—he started writing to you. notes tucked into books. margins filled with quotes. confessions that bled through paper long before he said the words out loud.

now, here you are. sharing a home. a name. a thousand tiny things that belong to no one else but the two of you.

you take a breath.

“keiji?”

he looks up immediately, pencil pausing mid-mark. “yeah?”

“i was thinking about something,” you say, adjusting the blanket over your lap. your heart is starting to pound, but you keep your voice even. “about… the future.”

his brow lifts just slightly, and he sets the manuscript aside without hesitation. it’s always like that with him—his full attention is yours the moment you ask for it.

“what about it?”

you hesitate.

it’s not that you’re scared of how he’ll react. it’s just… this is big. and your life right now is already so full, so rich in its quiet simplicity. you spend mornings cooking together in your small kitchen, evenings reading on the couch, weekends wrapped up in errands and bookstore visits and long walks through your neighborhood. it’s enough.

but lately, something inside you has begun to ache—in the gentlest way. a soft yearning. like the pages of your life are asking to be turned.

“i’ve just been wondering what the next chapter might look like,” you say slowly, fingers picking at the seam of the blanket. “like… a year from now. or five.”

he watches you, expression unreadable—but not unkind.

“okay,” he says. “what do you see?”

you swallow. “i think… maybe… i’ve been thinking about having a baby.”

the words sit heavy in the space between you. not crushing. just real.

akaashi doesn’t move for a second. then he leans back, eyes wide but not in shock. just… still.

“you’ve been thinking about it?” he echoes.

“yeah.” you laugh nervously. “for a while now, honestly. i just didn’t know how to bring it up. things are already so good. but i keep imagining it—us, with a little one. someone who looks like you. or kotaro, if we’re cursed.”

that earns a soft laugh. you let it out too.

“seriously,” you add, quieter now. “i think… i want to build something more with you. a family. i don’t know when. but i want that future. with you.”

his eyes soften, and then he exhales in that quiet, reverent way he does when something moves him too much to speak right away.

“i think about it too,” he says finally. “not all the time. but sometimes, when i’m watching you fold laundry. or when we walk past that bookstore near the park. i imagine holding a baby in one arm and your hand in the other.”

you blink. “you… do?”

he nods once. “i’m just afraid.”

“of what?”

he looks down. “that i won’t be enough. that i won’t know how to be a good father. i didn’t exactly have the best model.”

you reach across the couch and take his hand, threading your fingers through his.

“you’re already more than enough. you love like it’s breathing. you care about things other people don’t even notice. you’re going to be an amazing dad, keiji. i know it.”

he presses your hand to his lips. his breath trembles.

“i’d like that,” he whispers. “a family. with you. god… especially with you.”

you lean into his shoulder, your heart full to the brim. this man—the quiet boy you once teased at volleyball practice, the writer who proposed with a first edition and a trembling smile, the husband who folds laundry in silence and buys you flowers without a reason—is the love of your life. and now, maybe, he’ll be the father of your child.

nothing is official yet. there’s no test, no countdown, no nursery paint colors chosen. just the two of you. and a future waiting quietly in the wings.

still… you feel it.

a beginning.

the first draft of something beautiful.

[lmlknn]

Too calm

Pairing: Platonic! Shiratorizawa volleyball team x Male! Tokito! Reader.

Warnings: Bad words (?), body type description, using the word "deadpan" too many times.

Summary: The Shiratorizawa High School volleyball team was known for its great power, but one of its prodigies was too calm, even selfless...At a camp that was organized with the intention of sharing knowledge, the other teams are surprised by this prodigy.

Notes: English is not my first language, any spelling or grammar mistakes please let me know.

The Shiratorizawa team entered with an aura of power accompanying them, but what surprised them the most was seeing a boy with long black hair with mint green tips.

His mint green eyes were expressionless, and his serene face gave him an air of disinterest, but what surprised them the most was his height; he was probably the same height as Hinata, but he was still part of such a great school.

He was next to Ushijima and Tendou; on his shoulder hung the backpack where his belongings were.

Hinata tried to run towards the strange member, but the grip that Sugawara had on him prevented him from doing so.

—Kageyama, did you see him!? —Hinata asked full of emotion. He was more indignant than surprised. How had a 1.60 skinny guy managed to enter Shiratorizawa and he hadn't?

—It's good that we're all together now; If some of you don't know me, I'm coach Nekomata, from Nekoma. If you don't mind, we can have a little match so the other schools can see how their teams are doing. —Nekoma's coach was old, and (M/n) couldn't help but feel confused.

What was such a big man doing here? Was he a volleyball fanatic like coach Washijo?

All the coaches agreed and made little pieces of paper with the names of each team.

Honestly, (M/n) didn't know any of them and didn't remember any prodigies either. Well, Aoba Johsai was the exception, since the rivalry that the captain of said team had with his was strange, at least from his point of view.

He sneaked up to Semi, since he was the closest one. —Senpai, what teams are they? —he asked in a low voice.

The older man shuddered at the fright that (M/n)'s appearance produced in him. —Ah, they're Fukurodani, Inarizaki, Nekoma, Aoba Johsai, and Karasuno—he answered. With each team he named, he pointed at them so (M/n) could locate them without problems.

—Okay, thanks, Senpai. —He walked away again, waiting for them to name the teams that were going to play.

Minutes later, their coach arrived with his characteristic frown. —Get ready, it's you against Karazuno. —Without further ado, they began to warm up under Ushijima's command.

—Poor crows, we're going to bury them —Tendou mocked. —Don't be so harsh, they're just resurfacing —Reon replied.

Both teams were warming up, but the baby crows' gaze couldn't be taken off of (M/n)'s figure.

During the entire training, they couldn't find anything relevant; Although his flexibility was greater than expected, it was not something incredible, his movements even seemed weak.

The whistle blew, indicating the start of the friendly match. The players took their positions and Shiratorizawa let Karasuno make the first serve.

They received it easily and Shirabu was quick to position himself under the ball to quickly place the ball.

Ushijima's left foot soon connected with the ball and thus the first point of the match was scored. The other teams watched the match with interest.

The mysterious player who represented (M/n) was motionless, in the right corner. His mint eyes observed the trajectory of the ball; his posture was relaxed, he showed no intention of running to make a shot or to block or simply make a reception.

Surprisingly, Nishinoya managed to elevate Ushijima's shot and, taking advantage of the fact that Tendou was not in the lineup, Kageyama placed the ball to Hinata, making a quick one.

Hinata aimed at (M/n)'s position as he was confident that he wasn't going to make any move to receive.

His confidence was destroyed the moment the ball was blocked; (M/n)'s still expressionless face managed to send a shiver down the spine of the entire crow team.

His jump was incredible, and his reaction speed even more so. With a smile, Tendou cheered on (M/n) from the benches.

With both feet on the ground, Hinata watched the opponent in disbelief. The brown and green orbs came together; the tangerine felt intimidated almost instantly.

How had he guessed where Kageyama was going to aim? How did he manage to block the ball with such calmness?

(M/n) returned to his position, giving a small nod in response to the praise he was receiving from his team.

Ignoring the surprised faces and some gaping mouths from all the other spectators. The whistle blew again, confirming the point in favor of the eagles.

It was Shiratorizawa's turn to serve and, to Karasuno's nervousness, the person who had just blocked Hinata was the next to serve.

A small flame of hope flickered in their hearts; (M/n) couldn't be good at everything, right?

Of course he could; after all, Shiratorizawa was one of the most powerful teams in the prefecture.

The ball was in (M/n)'s small hand, he took a few steps back, bounced the ball four times and held it in front of him.

When the whistle reached his ears, the ball was thrown upwards; (M/n)'s movements were very fast, impossible to capture.

The sound of the ball crashing against the ground was the only proof of the powerful serve that (M/n) had made.

—What the hell!?

—When did he hit the ball!?

Although surprise had invaded everyone present (except for his team), (M/n)'s face remained unperturbed.

A ball fell into his hands again; he turned it in his hands at the same time that he walked to the same place where he had served.

—I'm going to receive it! —Nishinoya shouted with an almost palpable determination. —Oh, I wouldn't be so sure —Tendou answered upon hearing Nishinoya.

The ball rose again, with the gaze of more than fifty people on it. (M/n) ran after the ball and hit it with the palm of his hand.

The movements were fast; The ease and delicacy with which he performed them made it seem like he had performed them millions of times.

The surprise increased in the spectators; the force with which the ball hit the ground did not correspond to (M/n)'s physique.

His body was slender, he looked like the uniform was going to eat him up because it was so big, he had arms that looked like spaghetti (according to Oikawa's kind review), and from his expression, it seemed like he didn't care about volleyball.

But even so, the strength, speed, technique and skill were undeniable and above all powerful. The whistle declared the point for Shiratorizawa, since Nishinoya failed to lift the ball.

The tension was beginning to be felt on the shoulders of the crows team; Shiratorizawa was already at set point.

"Give them a calmer serve," Shirabu murmured. (M/n) turned his gaze towards Ushijima, seeking the approval of his captain.

With a small nod, (M/n) heeded Shirabu's request and made a simple serve.

Even so, Karazuno had trouble receiving it. With Daichi's shouts for the reception he made to be covered being answered by Asahi, Kageyama took possession of the ball again; his gaze fell on (M/n)'s position, he showed no intention of moving, and his gaze was fixed on the ground.

"I'm going to do a feint," Kageyama thought. Hinata had already started running, which would be the perfect decoy for his "plan."

The setters of the other teams who were watching managed to pick up on the small signals that Kageyama gave, even if they were very discreet; they trusted that Shirabu or some other member of Shiratorizawa would not be able to pick up on said signals due to the heat of the intense game.

Like a blur, (M/n) moved closer to block the ball; soon, both of them entered into a battle of strength.

The power that (M/n) exerted on the ball was greater than Kageyama could handle, and with a frustrated sound from the crow, the victory of the first set went to Shiratorizawa.

“The little guy has great power,” Atsumu said. “What if we take him to Inarizaki?” he asked in the air, receiving murderous glances from the eagles who managed to hear him.

They started the second set. (M/n) was now in the center of the first row, his face just as expressionless, without a single drop of sweat on it.

The ball went back and forth from each side of the court; the points were going in favor of Shiratorizawa, Karasuno no longer knew what else to do to be able to collect more points.

With frustration, Hinata decided to spike only in the direction of (M/n), trusting that at some point he would have to tire and they would start to fail, giving them the opportunity to win.

He shared his great ideas with Kageyama, who, although he was not very sure, decided to support the idea, since they no longer had much to lose.

Every shot was blocked or received perfectly, but the first-year duo of crows' spirits rose to heaven as they saw one of the many shots they had tried to score finally succeed.

They watched (M/n)'s reaction; in fact, everyone was watching him at that moment, as they wanted to see something more than the typical face of disinterest (misinterpreted), but his reaction was the same.

His mint green eyes followed the ball that rolled slower and slower, without a hint of frustration at seeing that he failed to reach the ball or something like that.

With the same expressionless face, (M/n) turned around and walked back to his position. Anger grew in Kageyama; while his team was giving it their all, this kid didn't even bother to pretend to fight.

He clenched his jaw, as an attempt to calm his anger. "It seems that the effect that (M/n)-chan has on the setters is always the same," Oikawa said mockingly.

It was true, Karasuno's first-year setter had had the same reaction as Seijoh, Fukurodani, Inarizaki, and even Shirabu and Semi when they played matches between the team.

"As long as I don't go to the same extreme as you, the reactions don't matter," Iwaizumi replied. "Ack!" "I already told you that was a mistake and I deeply regret it!" he defended himself.

On the crows' side, the afternoon Kageyama was beginning to affect all the other players. "Don't let this affect you, Kageyama-kun!" "We can beat them!" Sugawara spoke, trying to cheer up his kohai.

"Kageyama! Give me all the balls! I'll make him give us some reaction!" Hinata shouted. This brought comfort to the team; no matter how the match progressed, Hinata was always willing to try harder.

“You heard me, give it your all,” Keishin said. With that, the players returned to their positions; Shiratorizawa’s lineup had changed: Tendou was in the front row while (M/n) was in the back.

“Are you in a new mood now?” “Too bad, we’re going to crush you,” the red-headed third-year mocked.

“Tendou.”

Ushijima was the one to stop his mockery; with one last smirk, Tendou turned to look at his captain. “I’m just defending (M/n)-chan, Wakatoshi-kun.” (M/n)’s gaze went to the red-head.

“I’m sure (M/n)-kun doesn’t mind what’s going on at all,” the captain replied. Both third-years’ attention went to the mysterious first-year.

Although he kept his expressionless face, Tendou and Ushijima understood that it was true that he didn't care about the other team's comments and/or actions.

Yamaguchi came in as a pinch-server. Out of nerves, the ball headed to (M/n), who didn't have much trouble getting into position to receive the ball.

The screams of the entire gym began after the ball fell before it reached (M/n)'s arms.

—YES!

—VERY GOOD, YAMAGUCHI-KUN!

Another ball was handed to Tadashi; repeating his movements and hoping for the result to be the same, he hit the ball.

But unfortunately, he put too much force into the hit, waiting for Shiratorizawa to let go of the ball; he was surprised to see that (M/n) had run to receive it.

The skill with which he manipulated the ball gave the impression that it was going where (M/n) wanted it to go.

Shirabu placed the ball, but there was no one to shoot, or at least that's what Karasuno thought. They watched as the quick attack that had begun to represent Karazuno's monster duo was executed by (M/n); the difference was that he had looked for a place that was not in the range of the other players.

With that last play, the game ended, declaring Shiratorizawa's victory.

─────────────────୨ৎ────────────────

After Karasuno's embarrassing defeat, the other teams dedicated themselves to training and occasionally playing other games. Their schedules were tight, as they got up at seven in the morning, had a small breakfast, started training at around seven thirty, rested at two, ate, had a game and the rest was free time.

However, Shiratorizawa had a different training regimen: they would go out for a run at five in the morning and train from seven to three; they would eat and watch whatever match was on. Once they were done, they would train again until seven; thus, they finally had free time.

Thanks to the camp, various teams of setters, captains, aces, liberos, etc. had been formed.

The setter team was finishing training their positions; they had agreed to share their knowledge after each training. Even Kenma, Shirabu, and Semi had agreed to participate in said training.

—Semi-san, I have a question about a certain member of your team. —Sugawara broke the silence. —About who? —answered the other platinum.

—(M/n)-kun is very calm, I would dare say disinterested, but his talent in volleyball is surprising. —The attention of the other setters soon fell on the conversation.

—He is a good boy, he is dedicated and, although he has natural talent, he has practiced very hard to get where he is. I know that he seems disinterested, but he has a great passion for the sport. Just as Semi finished speaking, they passed by one of the gyms that were in the place where they were staying.

The sounds of shoes squeaking against the floor and the ball hitting the ground caught their attention; the other sub-teams had already finished training, so they did not know who it could be.

Inside the gym, (M/n) had just jumped to do a jump with a floating serve, for the first time in all their time in the camp; they saw him a little more agitated and with sweat running down his face.

They saw him walk towards the ball cart, grab one, throw it in the air and run after it to receive it skidding on the ground, stand up quickly and continue hitting the ball.

A gasp of surprise came out in unison when they saw how (M/n) fell to the ground after his ankle was bent.

Although the setters outside of Shiratorizawa wanted to help him, they were stopped by Shirabu. —Don't intervene, (M/n)-san is very hard with his training.

At the same time, the black-haired man stood up, threw the ball again and made another serve. —Semi-senpai, Shirabu-senpai, could someone throw me some balls to finish? —asked (M/n). His voice was serious, though it wasn't as thick as they expected.

“Hey! (M/n)!” Kageyama shouted. (M/n)'s gaze went to the blue-haired boy, waiting for him to speak. “Why do you play volleyball?” Kageyama asked.

“Why should I answer you?” “I don't know you, you're just another player,” (M/n) replied defensively.

“Come on, (M/n)-chan, I'm wondering the same thing too,” Oikawa added with a playful smile. “I don't even remember their names.” “If it's not for something important, don't talk to me.” Without waiting for an answer from his setters, (M/n) turned around to pick up all the balls that were lying around and go take a shower.

But the question still lingered in his mind. Why did he play volleyball? His memories were shrouded in a fog; his first clear memory was of him training until his legs failed. I didn't know why, but volleyball has been around since the beginning.

Why would I give up something I was good at? I didn't know why I played volleyball, maybe I had made a promise, maybe it was just a coincidence...

[nizhspo]

saltwater secrets:

chapter one: girl over overboard

genre: haikyuu fic, slow burn

pairing: tooru oikawa x reader

links: m.list, next

emerald shoals looks perfect in a postcard.

rows of pastel houses, fluttering beach towels on balconies, and dirty sand that somehow gets everywhere. but beneath the sunscreen-slick gloss and tourist charm, it’s overcrowded. the kind of town where you can’t breathe without bumping into someone you vaguely know from middle school, volleyball camp, or your old job at the pier.

there’s always a line at the gas station. always someone riding a bike barefoot. always some group of teens loitering outside of surf shops like they’ve got nowhere to be and all the time in the world.

every high school here has its clique.

nekoma kids smoke behind the old arcade. aoba johsai students live on their scooters and look like they were born with sunglasses on. fukurodani kids—you included, run the beaches. lifeguards, volleyball junkies, boardwalk cashiers. you’ve seen them all. worked with them. used to be one of them.

but not lately. not since that night. not since the ocean changed you.

you’ve been calling out of shifts for weeks now. saying you’re sick, saying you’re busy. handing your hours off to other guards with shaky excuses and a tight smile. you don’t go near the water anymore. not even to dip your toes. it’s too risky.

and bokuto’s noticed.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just keeps asking if you’re okay. dropping off slushies at your house after his shifts. sending you photos of the beach like it’s supposed to lure you back. like he doesn’t know that stepping into the waves might mean revealing something you can’t undo.

you know he’s waiting, you just don’t know how to tell him.

until one night, you’re both closing up the lifeguard station—your name still on the schedule for a late shift you forgot to drop. the sun’s gone, the sky soft with stars, the beach empty but still warm from the day.

he’s putting up the flag, wind tugging at his salt and pepper hair. you’re gathering towels and trying not to shake.

“you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he says, finally.

you freeze.

bokuto’s not angry. not really. his voice is soft, but sure. he looks at you like he’s known something’s off—he just wanted you to say it first.

you swallow, and it feels like the ocean’s in your throat.

“i’m not sick,” you admit. “i just… i can’t be in the water anymore.”

“what do you mean? you love the water.”

you look at him, taking a step forward before dropping the towel in your hands. deep breath.

“okay. don’t scream.” then, because you know it’s the only way, you unscrew your water bottle, and pour the rest of it over your legs.

the change is instant, familiar by now. the shimmer rolls up your calves, glinting orange, bright and glowing, scales sliding over skin like second nature. you don’t fully shift, not all the way, but it’s enough.

bokuto literally falls back a step. like, full-on stumbles.

“bro.”

you press your lips together. “…yeah.”

“wait.” he blinks at you. “you’re being serious?”

you nod.

he pauses. then: “like, a real mermaid? not just ‘i like the ocean and cry at the little mermaid’ kind of mermaid?”

you give him a look. “do i look like i’m kidding?”

he exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “jesus. i thought you were gonna tell me you were, like, switching schools or secretly dating kuroo or something.”

“and this is less dramatic?”

“honestly?” he laughs, half-shocked. “yeah. somehow.”

you shake your head. “you’re so weird.”

he grins, wide now. “okay but seriously, how does this work? do you have scales right now? are you, like, waterproof? do fish talk to you?”

you roll your eyes. “no, no, and—“ you pause, looking up to the sky with a hand on your chin as if you were seriously considering the answer, “no.”

“lame,” he pouts, but only for a moment before continuing with his questions. “okay, do not lie to me. can you breathe underwater?”

you snort. “actually.. yes.”

“damn. missed opportunity with the fish thing but breathing underwater’s kinda cool too.”

you bump his shoulder. he bumps you back, twice as hard.

“just don’t call me ariel,” you say.

he smirks. “nah. you’re cooler than ariel. and taller.”

you blink at him. “so.. you’re not freaking out?”

he shrugs, easy. “dude, i’ve known you forever. if anyone was gonna turn into a part-time mythological creature, it was gonna be you.”

and just like that, it’s okay. you’re okay.

bokuto just grabs a beach chair, plops down in the sand like nothing happened, and starts talking about how you could totally win the next pool volleyball tournament if you were allowed to play in tail form.