Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You fucking dork.” The snarky comment is barbed but you roll your eyes in response.

“Ah, yes, but you value the friendship of this ‘fucking dork,’ you fucking dork.”

He’s walking next to you through the halls, and in the corner of you eyes you can see the corner of his lips turn up briefly before pursing childishly.

“This might make me reevaluate our friendship.”

“So you might not?”

He growls and shoves your shoulder lightly.

“Does that mean I get my little dino charm back?”

The shove is harder, but when you start to actually stumble towards the wall a gentle arm steadies you.

-

You stand in front of the classroom door, the tall bean pole lagging a few feet back. With an excitement that is buoyed by the sounds of intense conversation on the other side, you slide the door open, grinning madly.

“What’s up nerds?” Heads snap up and five pairs of eyes rush to you. At the familiar greeting, an equally excited, chorused ‘Eyyyy’ rises up.

Desks have been shifted about the room and the board is already set up in the middle of the room. Little minis and notebooks are set in five identical places around the board, the only different one at the head of the table. That set it surrounded by a border made by a few propped up folders. You slide into the chair at the very right of the head, setting your bag down next to you and pulling out a small wooden box that rattles as you set it on the desk and a/an (f/c) notebook. On the cover of it is a slight, dark skinned humanoid with pointed ears, equally dark eyes and silvery white hair that cascades down their back. Their face is androgynous; with a slight but full cheeks and a strong jaw their features are neither really masculine or feminine. In one hand is a small dagger, in the other is a purple flame.

Tsukishima folds his arms and raises a thin light blond eyebrow, furiously tamping down the spark of interest in his eyes at the sight of the fairly bad-ass looking warrior. However, he does pull up a chair and settles his arms on the back of yours. His face is so close to your shoulder, his breaths displace a few strands of hair. Your face heats up, the back of your neck fiery, and you try in vain to shake off the blush.

“What are you doing?” His grumbled inquiry, however gruff, doesn’t cover up the genuine curiosity in his voice.

There are splotches of red on your cheeks, but you grin smugly at him over your shoulder. “Oh, I though DnD was ‘too fucking nerdy’ for you?”

Whatever he was going to say is interrupted when the girl sitting next to you glares at him, shushing you both impatiently. Tsukishima scowls sourly but then the teenager sitting at the head of the table, a twelfth grader, starts to speak.

“When we last left off, the gang of goblins had cornered you in a cave that was, unfortunately, in the middle of nowhere. In your quest to find the fate of the missing townsfolk, who pointed you in a general Northwest direction, you all decided as a group to just blindly head in ‘that’ direction.” There’s a barely constrained glee in his voice and three of your party members glower at him. Not having a compass, they’d had to roll for survival and each and every one of them had rolled such a low number he’d actually giggled.

“In a very quick, rash decision stemming from hearing a cry for help in this dark, mysterious cave the party rushed in and was, unsurprisingly, ambushed by a group of goblins who had been using the cave as a hideout. And that is where we left off last time. And Shalania, having been leading the party into the cave,”

At this, the girl across from you winced. The DM started to roll, the sound of clattering dice marking your doom. He smirked, scribbling something down in his own notebook before lifting his head to address the rest of the group.

“Shalania, normally your armor is very protective. However, after the trek here and not having the time to care properly for your gear and the abuse it has endured, it is unusually weak. The arrow pierces through the plates of armor near your heart and just plunges through your flesh and you take thirteen points of damage.”

Shalania curses and writes down the damage onto her character sheet as the DM turns to you.

“Unim, what would you like to do?”

You answer without hesitation. “Eldritch blast.”

“Roll.”

The d20 dice rolls around your desk and defeat washes over your features as you helplessly flip through your stats. “Eh…shit. Natural…one?”

“Roll damage.”

Your hand is shaky as you throw the dice. “Six?"

The DM grins, laughing quietly under his breath, and turns to the boy sitting directly to his right.

“Tralamin, you see a purple light that completely just covers the entire cave with light. For a second, the goblin about twenty feet in front of you cower before you can detect a small smirk on its little green, lumpy face and pain just erupts across your back and you take six points of damage.”

Peering around DM, you shoot an apologetic smile at Tralamin. “Sorry.”

-

As the campaign progresses Tsukishima finds himself being drawn more and more into the story. When Boffin, the halfling rogue in your party, fell every muscle in Tsukishima's body tensed, the words of the DM transporting him to the goblin cave. Boffin was lying prone, having been knocked backwards by the blow of a goblin’s sword. Blood was trickling out of him and, having already failed one saving throw, everyone was trying to hack their way through goblins to get to him.

You had just rolled a natural twenty to throw your dagger at a goblin archer, which embedded itself into his forehead and through the brain matter inside like butter. Being a goblin and having a relatively small skull, the blade of the iron dagger peeks out the other side of his head, blood and bits of gore dripping from the tip. The DM took extra care describing this death. You can’t bring yourself to feel sick, instead basking in the glory and encouraging applause from your party. A little ‘yus!’ draws your gaze from the board and you glance back at Tsukishima. He’s gripping the back of your chair tightly, his knuckles white, and his jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed in anticipation behind his glasses.

“And that’s where we’ll have to end.”

Tsukishima’s head snaps up, confusion clouding his eyes.

“What?!”

The DM shrugs apologetically, all the while packing up his handbooks. “I have to leave early today - visiting family over the break.” He packs up his things quickly, promising everyone else in the room that ‘yes, he’ll text everyone over the break’ and ‘no, I’m not going to kill your character next week’ although with that last promise there’s a twinkle in his eye that brings a twinge of dread to everyone’s stomach.

You pack up your things as well whilst grinning smugly at your best friend, something that he firmly ignores. As you leave the classroom and start walking home, you can’t help but tease him.

“You were into it.”

“I was not.”

“You were so into it you NERD!” He punches your shoulder harder now and you clutch at it in pain dramatically. “Ow! But there’s no need to be in the closet about your nerd anymore! Bring the nerd out! Let it run free!”

His glasses glint threateningly. “Shut. Up.”

—

Four sessions later, your campaign ended. It was brought to a satisfying end and the whole group was just lounging around the club room in a post-campaign high. It was bittersweet, a hole in each of your hearts in the shape of the characters you had spent so long developing and caring for. But it was a new day, a new world.

And a new player.

Tsukishima had claimed the chair next to you, his desk already outfitted with a brand new notebook and a makeshift unpainted mini.

“You were all sitting in a populated roadside tavern. The food was good, the drink was plenty and there were many…interesting characters that filled the bar. The tavern itself is warm and inviting - a flaming hearth in the center of the room that gives off waves of heat to all corners of the room and a bar that covers the whole left wall of the room. Thoriel,” The DM turned to your friend and you can see him tense in anticipation. “You see a giant - well, actually, a five and a half foot foot green skinned humanoid that is clearly an orc, or, at least, a half-orc.

They are clad in very flamboyant, bright red clothing that has a golden yellow trim. It’s very poofy and because they’re sitting at the bar and their back is facing you, you can see a lute strapped to their back. When they raise their head to take a swig from a very large tankard that is about the same size of your face, you can also see a little red hat sat atop their jet black hair that looks like a miniature chef’s hat. They sway in their stool, obviously very drunk, and a lean to the left goes farther than they intended and this half-orc just goes plummeting to the muddy wooden floor.

When they collapse, the image of this great big hulking figure disappears and in its place is this broad shouldered, orcish woman who actually doesn’t have much in terms of muscles but there are teeth that curl up above her lower lip, hinting at a savageness that you are very familiar with.”

Tsukishima is nodding to himself, writing every piece of information down as the DM weaves the story.

After describing the young orcish woman (all the while, you were bouncing in your seat with excitement) the DM turns to you.

“You are blackout drunk.”

“Constitution saving throw?”

He shrugs, amused. The dice rolls and you hiss frustratedly, turning to him.

“Seven?”

The DM nods and turns to the rest of the group. “There is a loud groan that goes, for the most part, ignored. Thoriel, you are still observing the woman and watch as she moans and her little red hat pops off her head and onto the floor.”

—

Tsukishima pores over his notebook during class, completely immersing themselves in the lore of the land of Orilon. As he read over his notes for you - well, your character, a small smile came to his face. He adored you - your character, of course! They were headstrong, brave, and weren’t afraid of cracking a few skulls to accomplish what they came to do. And besides all that, when you performed your bardly skills and sonnets your voice, although not perfect, spun masterfully dirty lyrics that made the party laugh hysterically. He remembered your manic grin as you sang the words in a purposefully deep wavering tone, peaking only when words concerning genitalia popped up.

The bell rang but his eyes were still going over the little description he’d written on your character, the words circling his head like moths.

‘A half-orc that is somehow perpetually drunk. Childish and naive, but in a way that’s charming - endearing. Lovable.’

He picks up a pencil to erase the last word, make it disappear in pink shavings, but there’s a strange hesitance as the eraser hovers over it.

Red and pink balloons fill the corridors of the school and there must be some sort of rule against balloons because this is a nothing but a fire hazard. As it is every year, girls and boys are exchanging cheesy romantic Valentine’s cards and chocolates and everything else that made Tsukishima grimace.

Thankfully, it’s club day and after the whole Valentine’s craziness is over, everybody collects in the room and sets up.

The DM, sitting behind his dragon folder, claps his hands.

“So, the party has made its way into the capitol of Orilon: Westray. It’s a very expansive city and people come from all corners of Orilon to make themselves in Westray. You’ve been in the city for a while and can see this mesh of all this rich culture and in the section of the city you’re in there’s a heavy elven presence. And today is the day of what is called the ‘Yulgrave Festival’. While it does sound like a grim name what you can gather from the locals is that it’s a celebration dedicated to love, newfound and old, as well as other activities people indulge in concerning love.

As soon as you walk out of the ‘Ye Olde Snowdrop’ you are completely bombarded with the smell of flowers, lavender and chocolate. Stalls selling chocolate, flowers, and a variety of blue banners that, according to the halfling that manned the bar in Snowdrop was supposed to represent ‘eternal love’ or something like that, clogged the populated streets. In actuality, while it is a symbol of love, there are other colors that represent types of love. Blue is the beginning, a newfound love - just a side fact. Anyway, is there anything that the party would like to do?”

As the other members of the party, a half elf druid , dragon born warlock, a tiefling monk and a homebrew race that a girl named Mimi was trying out, chose to move about the city. Tsukishima’s character, a snobbish high elf ranger that ended up having to revive you on the battlefield despite your party’s multiple warnings to keep out of the fight at all times, surprisingly stayed with you. Being a bard, you pulled out your lute and started to sing a song about going on a walk with Thoriel, which he quickly stopped by taking the instrument and using his owl familiar to fly it back to the Snowdrop.

“If that owl scratches my lute - “

“You won’t be doing anything to ‘that owl’ and if you dare come close to her I will - “

“Oo, it’s a she?”

Tsukishima let his head drop into his hands and massaged his face. Maybe he should’ve drawn up a script or something…

He peeks through his hands at the DM. “I give her the thing in my right pocket.” He mumbles.

DM nods excitedly and turns towards you. “Thoriel takes out what looks to be a small, white box from his right pocket. There’s a baby blue bow that’s been wrapped around it and as he holds it out to you it’s very clear to you that a lot of time has been spent on this. The box has no smudges on it at all despite being a pristine, bright white and the ribbon has been wrapped into a rosette bow.

He hands it to you. Do you open it?”

You peer suspiciously at the DM first before turning to your friend next to you, who refuses to return your gaze. He glares stubbornly at his character sheet, gripping a pencil in his hand so tightly his fist is slightly shaking.

“…Yes. But if this is a prank, I swear - “

“You open up the box and sitting in it, partially covered in tissue paper, is a small blue circular thing. As you fold back the tissue paper, which is also white, you see a tiny light blue dinosaur.”

At this, Tsukishima yanked out something (a white box?) from his pocket and slammed it down onto your desk, all the while refusing to even look in your direction.

Raising an eyebrow (you’re covering for yourself, ‘oblivious’ curiosity mixed with smug exasperation instead of heart-pounding anxiety and love[?]) you reach for the box, curling your fingers around it, sliding it into your lap. Despite the awkwardness and obvious prods you’re getting from everyone at the table to open it, you don’t.

When everyone else has already packed up and left the room (after you’d sent a meaningful glance at DM) you turned to your friend, your dino-fucker, and opened the box.

Inside, nestled in pure white tissue paper, was a light blue dinosaur charm.

Chapter Text

“We can’t, umm…have a kid so I was wondering whether we could - “

“Oh. Oh, no, I wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself.” I set my tea down next to the armchair on the little table, entire body shaking. The couple opposite me were visibly alarmed, and I couldn’t blame them (well, I could, actually) that I just found all this so. Damn. Funny. 

It began with a single peal of laughter, a solitary ‘ha’ that just kept on rolling. 

“Ha ha ha ha HA!” I leaned over in the chair, practically folding in half, while gasping in laughter. Tears of hilarity collected in the corner of my eyes and I tried to roll it back in. Thankfully, my laughter died out after a few seconds. 

Wiping the tears, I rested my chin on my hand and leaned against the arm of the chair. My smile twisted brutally fast into a scowl and my eyes narrowed into cruel slits. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I was mainly focusing my anger on Oikawa but occasionally I slid my gaze to the brown-haired (bitch) woman he’d brought with him. 

Huh. You’d think I would’ve let it go after all these years…

Nope. 

“As far as I’m concerned, your whole barren problem isn’t a concern mine at all.” Shooting up from the chair, I stalked past them and forcefully yanked open the front door to my apartment. “So if you’d kindly get the hell out of my apartment, that’d be great.” 

The brown-haired woman’s eyes widened and she stood up shortly after me, alarmed. What had her name been, again? Mits? No, that couldn’t’ve been right… “W-wait, but you don’t understand -“

“Understand what? That the love of my life left me after a three year relationship that, I had thought, was going fine? That he cheated on me? That I had to find out after all his friends did? That I was seen as a fool by everyone for not seeing it sooner? That you knew he was in a relationship, yet pursued him anyway? Please, if I’m misunderstanding anything here, tell me.” My words were biting, accusing. 

The brown haired woman clutched her hands to her chest, her eyes pleading. Apparently, she was speaking for the both of them. “Tooru has cancer and the last sample - our last chance - was stored at inappropriate temperatures. It’s gone, our last chance - !” 

“I don’t give a fuck.” The brown-haired woman’s jaw dropped and I motioned towards the door. “Now get out.” 

“You - you - how could you?” She began to get hysterical, furious over my dismissal but I just glared coldly at her. 

“Adopt. There are other options, other kids who'd love to have a home. Now get out.” 

Oikawa reached a hand for her arm. His face was tired and drawn, defeated. “Let’s just go.” 

The brown-haired woman was the first to cross the threshold. Then, Oikawa. I moved to shut the door, but a hand held it open and I glared at it before rounding it on the owner of the hand. 

“Can I at least see him? Eh - her?” My grip on the door loosened, considering. His chocolate brown eyes gazed into my own and for a second, I remembered why I'd fallen in love int he first place.“Give them a chance to at least see their father?” That was when my resolve solidified. 

“I sent you a letter when I found out that I was pregnant. I sent you a copy of the birth certificate. I never got a reply, not once even after two years and you know what? That was when I decided that my child didn’t have a father, as far as I was concerned. You lost that privilege long, long ago.” Oikawa’s grip on the door had grown slack and I used the opportunity to slam the door shut, locking it immediately. 

Sighing, I rubbed my hand over my face before slapping on a smile and heading into Itsuki’s room. The walls in the room were painted a light green with dark green trimming. The bed had been placed in the back right corner of the room and various toys littered the carpeted floor, spilling off the bookshelf and the out of the toy chest. A stuffed goat sat on top of the dark mahogany dresser, observing the room.

Itsuki was sitting on top of their bed, their favorite toy (which was, ironically, a stuffed volleyball) being crushed mercilessly in their small, chubby hands. 

As soon as they saw that it was me that had entered their room, they fell off their bed, anxious to get to me. 

“Momma!” Their short arms reached around my thighs, their head just barely reaching my stomach. “Are you angry? Who was that?” They turned their face up, their eyes searching mine, and my heart skipped a beat - like it always did when I looked into their eyes. Itsuki’s eyes were a familiar chocolate brown that made my head reel and my heart thump painfully. 

“It was nobody, Itsuki.” I drew them to my chest before sitting down on the bed with them, settling their small body on my lap. “What’d you do in daycare today, sweetie?” 

Itsuki’s eyes lit up and they chattered excitedly about their day, forgetting about the yelling they’d heard in the living room as they described their finger painted picture and the macaroni and cheese they’d had for lunch.

Chapter Text

“I - Would you like to go out with me?!” He all but yells at you, spine ramrod straight and arms locked at his sides. His raven black hair is hanging almost in his eyes, and that isn’t helped by the way he’s tilting his head forward, hiding his eyes.

Of course, you aren’t doing too well either.

Because really, how is anyone supposed to react when the attractive volleyball player in your class who you may or may not have been crushing on since middle school, asks you out on a date. A volleyball player who, you might add, has been noted by other students for having a general aversion to the interaction with, appearance of, and general idea of other people.

Your mouth is working, gaping like a fish and you are glad, so damn glad that he’d caught you outside and away from your club. You don’t know if you’d be able to survive the teasing your friends would subject you to if they’d been able to see your red flushed face, trembling, fidgeting body and tapping feet.

(But there’s a little seed of hope planted in you at the way his cheeks are flushing red that he has a heart and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to trust him with yours)

Chapter Text

You aggressively tried to backpedal on what you thought to be the worst decision in your young life.

“No, wait, don’t -“ The two other people in the room disregarded you and continued to click away on the Xbox controller, laughing maniacally.

“HA! This’ll be so fuckin’ epic!” The teenager who was actually carrying out the deed was biting his lip and gripping the controller tightly. His hands felt sweaty and his grip on the controller nearly slipped as he put in the final letters to complete the name.

“I...L…K. …Holy shit we’ve done it.”

You had hidden your horror-stricken face behind your hands, but peeked out from them now to witness the horrible event that was happening in front of you right now, hoping that it was some sort of dream.

. . . Nope. It was still there, the white text standing out from the black background in all its glory.

There, on the screen, was your worst nightmare in big block letters. Ilkofthedamned, you’re about to change your gamertag to GiveMeYourMilk.

The unfortunate name had emerged from a particularly intense gaming session in GTA when you’d been having a monster truck joust and your brother had gotten way too into it. ‘It’ being a very, very strange milk and cookies analogy resulting in your brother screaming into the headset: “GIVE ME YOUR MILK!”

There had been a few seconds of silence before you all erupted in laughter. Your brother had thrown his headset off and sworn all of you to secrecy, but that didn't stop the three of you from teasing him occasionally.

Of course, that swear was being broken right now and it seemed like you couldn't do anything to stop it.

“Ohhh god, I’m - I can’t - you - AUGH!” You slumped forwards onto the couch lifelessly, (h/l) (h/c) hair covering your face. “We’re so dead.” Your head lifted up from the couch to glare at the two of them, neither of which paid you any attention.Your head lifted up from the couch to glare at the two of them, neither of who paid you any attention.

“HA, this is hilarious!” Kuroo snickered as Bokuto made the move to press A and seal the deed but before he could, you lunged over Kuroo’s lap and made a desperate grab for the controller.

“WAIT, BOKUTO NO!” The owl leaped away from you and danced away, the controller held high above his head.

“Bokuto yes!”

You glanced pleadingly up at Kuroo. “Kuroo…” He smirked and made no move to help you. “You fucking plum.”

His cat-like eyes narrowed at you.

“…What.”

Bokuto’s head poked out from the hallway, the controller still above his head and his hand dangerously close to pressing the A.

“NO BOKUTO!” You shot off Kuroo’s lap like a bullet. Your socked feet slid dangerously on the hardwood floor and your arms windmilled for a moment before you crashed into the wall next to Bokuto and collapsed onto the floor, unmoving.

Bokuto continued to laugh for a few seconds, clearing his throat nervously when you didn’t get up from the floor. Kuroo had gotten up from the couch and looked on in horror as Bokuto sank to your side, the controller forgotten next to him.

“(name)? (name), oh my god, get up, please!” You didn’t move and Bokuto’s eyes started to fill up with tears. “Kuroo, call the - “

Your hand shot out and snatched the controller and, pushing your arm out in front of you onto the floor, slid across the floor to in front of the TV. A loud ‘WHAT THE FUCK, (NAME)?!’ rang out behind you from both boys but you ignored them in favor of actually preventing your death.

You finger hovered over the home button before a large solid mass crushed you and the controller was ripped from your hands.

Horrified, you could only look up helplessly as the controller hung laxly in Bokuto’s hand. Struggling was useless; Kuroo’s strong arms pinned you to the floor, crushing the air out of your body.

“Kuroo, you fatass - “

“Hey!” An indignant huff could be heard from behind you.

“Bokuto, gimme the controller!”

His normally playful golden eyes looked down upon you mercilessly.

“I’ll do anything!” You begged desperately and Bokuto’s eyes narrowed, his mouth tightening into a thin, white line. He rested a hand on his hip, considering.

“No.”

A strangled, unbelieving sound escaped you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp what he’d just said, as he jammed his finger down onto the button. (Oh god, your fate was sealed)

(b/n) stepped into the apartment, white plastic shopping bags grasped in his hand.

He surveyed the room and, kicking off his shoes, lugged the bags into the kitchen and shoved the groceries into the freezer.

(b/n) moved to the living room and flopped onto the couch between Kuroo and Bokuto, settling back into the cushions. For some reason, it seemed like they were trying to subtly edge away from him. If he hadn’t gotten that wonderful email from Xbox Live about ten minutes earlier, he would’ve been completely baffled.

“S-so how was the grocery trip?” Kuroo’s deep voice trembled and in any other situation, you would have teased him mercilessly.

“Oh, I know.” Your brother said it with a smile but there was the fury, burning with the intensity of a thousand suns behind his eyes, that made everyone shrink in their seats.

Strangled laughter erupted from the other three occupants of the room.

“You leave for a second, you’re fucked.” And with that, sweat began to collect on all of your brows.

“Listen…Kuroo did it.”

“Wha - no I didn’t!”

At this, (b/n) placed a hand on Bokuto’s knee and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, he’s in there too.” At this, (b/n) looked over at Kuroo. “Are you really attached to CatBro?”

“Heyheyheyhey…It was (name)’s idea.” You were sitting on the chair right next to the couch and at this, leaped out of your seat.

“Nope! Noope! I suggested we change it to GetShrekt and that was taken so I’m out.” Your brother’s ‘quiet fury’ eyes did not falter and admittedly, ‘GetShrekt’ was probably in some aspects worse than ‘GiveMeYourMilk’.

(b/n) turned to look Bokuto in the eyes, his gaze unfaltering and you could’ve sworn he hadn’t blinked once since he set foot in the room. “See, you know how I know it wasn’t her?”

“BUT IT WAS!” You glared at Bokuto. This traitorous owl fucker, throwing you under the bus. Oh, there will be retribution. You wondered how attached he was to that amazing, gravity-defying hair of his. . .

(b/n) held a hand up, effectively shutting up Bokuto’s attempt to throw away the blame. “You know how I know it wasn’t her? She has the most to lose by losing her gamertag.”

Kuroo got up from the couch and headed towards the door as casually as he could. At this point, it didn’t matter that he lived here - he did not want to get caught in the hurricane of revenge that (b/n) was about to rain down upon them.

“Kuroo. Kuroo, why don’t you come back here and hang out?” There was a dangerous edge to (b/n)’s voice that physically pulled him from his spot at the door, yanking away his one chance at escape. Obediently, he came back and sat down on the couch. His hands were actually shaking, lord help him.

“I’m OK with no work being done in this apartment.” (b/n) began and at this, if there was any doubt before this that he was serious, it evaporated like water in the desert. It was no secret to the three of you that (b/n) had a major assignment for work that could possibly earn him a promotion that he had been working towards for a year - a promotion that would enable him to afford all the new games he had on his wishlist - games that he had been pining for for...you didn't even know how long.

“Now, the kind of hell that I am going to rain down on you…”

Chapter Text

It was a dare - well, that’s what they settled on telling everyone. IF anyone were to find out about this little incident, of course - with any luck, that wouldn't happen. Then again, considering everything, nobody should count on luck favoring them in the foreseeable future.

But, anyway. A dare, of course. Who could argue against that?

In truth, it had been curiosity that had gotten them into this stupid, inescapable situation.

“Bro?”

“Yeah, bro?”

“We fucked up.”

A sigh.

“Yeah.”

“Bro.”

“Mm?”

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Golden eyes widened and looked to his friend, who was hanging next to him in the kids swing. The bed headed teen had been wriggling around in the seat for the past five minutes - well, they both had but after the three minutes mark Bokuto had pretty much accepted his fate and tried to enjoy the situation as much as he could until Akaashi got there, alternating between swinging (which didn't really work, his legs were too long and ended up scraping against the rough ground uncomfortably) and leaning back to look at the stars that twinkled above. Kuroo, however, had tried to preserve his dignity by escaping the damned swing.

Suffice to say, it hadn’t been going very well for him.

It hadn’t even been a second after Kuroo’s legs had gone slightly numb when panic made him thrash in the swing. “I'M GONNA DIE! MY LEGS ARE GONNA FALL OFF!” The swing was leaning dangerously backwards.

Bokuto tried to warn his bro, but he couldn’t get anything out over Kuroo’s panicked yells and he could only watch, helpless, as his bro swung backward. Kuroo’s head smacked against the ground - thank god it was that weird semi-mushy turf - but nevertheless, Kuroo’s head smacked against the ground with a crack that made Bokuto wince. The middle blocker’s legs were now up in the air, his back flat against the ground.

The upside was that Kuroo wasn’t struggling anymore. The downside was that Bokuto wasn’t entirely sure that the guy was completely conscious anymore.

“Bro?” A beat and then, slightly more panicked. “BRO?”

Bokuto was panicking even more now - oh god, what was he going to do? - when the clearing of a throat drew his attention to the slides next to the swings.

“(n-name)?” Bokuto stuttered, flustered, a blush rising to his face.

“What did you say? (name)?” And there, from the ground came Kuroo’s somewhat muffled voice.

You pursed your lips as you walked into the clearing right in front of the swings.

“Where’s Akaashi?”

“He called me and asked to take care of something in the park.”

“Oh. Eheh…”

You sighed and walked over to Kuroo’s swing, squatting down next to him.

“So.”

Kuroo grinned suavely at you, and honestly, it probably would have completely knocked you off your feet if he hadn’t been trapped in a child’s swing, face pressed up against the squishy flooring of the playground.

“Could you help me up? It seems I’ve fallen for you.”

You rolled your eyes and, standing back up, gripped the sides of his swing and pulled him back up harshly. Maybe a bit harsher than you should have - Kuroo came up too quickly and he leaned forwards in the swing, groaning. His face was green and he clutched his head.

You rested your hands on your hips and turned to Bokuto, who smiled sheepishly.

“You two so owe me.”