constellate

kuroo, you think, might be one of the stupidest people to ever exist.

and that has nothing to do with his grades, really—he’s never failed a test and he’s always top of your class and you’re sure if he really applied himself, he could probably do anything he put his mind to. but as he closes the door to the storage closet behind you, all of that seems to dissolve right at your feet—leaving you to believe that he truly couldn't get any dumber than this.

“this is an awful idea,” you say, and he has a stupid little smile on his face as he clicks the door shut.

“it’s only awful if we get caught.”

“and we’re gonna get caught.”

he grins, “not if we’re careful.”

and you could kill him—you really could—but he’s pretty and tall and something seems to spark beneath his skin as light shadows the room, so you hold off, a little more captivated than you'd ever care to admit.

he shifts, stumbling over broomsticks and dodging the equipment scattered on the floor beneath him, and you laugh—bright and warm and loud enough to fill the room before kuroo throws a hand over your mouth.

"okay, i don't know what you think careful means, but jesus, i hope it isn't that." his brows knit at the top of his head as he whispers, and it only leaves more laughter to fall from your lips.

"this is stupid," you mumble into the palm of his hand as you tug his fingers away from your face. "you're stupid."

"woah, woah, i just wanted to see you before the game—you're the one causing all the commotion." you tilt your to the side, watching a fire begin to dance through his eyes.

"and you couldn't see me anywhere else?"

he's grinning again—big, wide, and toothy—and you know you've set yourself up.

"nope, not like this." his fingers reach the side of your cheeks—breath tangling in the air between you—and god, you really have set yourself up.

"oh absolutely not, we are not about to-"

and he kisses you.

and kuroo tastes like warmth and honey and something like home, and though you realized that a long time ago, in this moment—as he backs you against the wall, kicking up a mop in the process—you can feel it drag across your lips.

he follows your breath, tugging the air from your lungs, and—as much as you wish to keep him from the satisfaction—the feeling nearly swallows you whole.

"i'm gonna kill you," you murmur into the side of his mouth—your hands finding the base of his shoulders—and he chuckles, teeth pulling at your bottom lip.

"oh please." you can feel him smile into the kiss—feel the warmth of his laughter spread across your skin. "you'd miss me too much."

"i'll live," you reply, and there's a certain dread with pulling away—a force so incredibly kuroo that you really really wish he wasn't right. that you wouldn't miss him, or this, or the stale air of the supply closet as much as you would.

"oh, well if that's the case i can just-" he backs away—feet tracing the floor beneath you—and as he reaches the door you tug at his wrist, pulling him back in your direction.

"hm—i think someone doesn't want me to go." he smiles again—a devilish little thing that rolls across his features.

"just shut up and kiss me," you say, and god, you don't have to ask him twice.

reblogs/interaction is always appreciated!!

2:38AM. NOVEMBER.

this was the last place you wanted, or expected to be. and there was kuroo, on the opposite side of the room.

it was almost too strange to be a coincidence. what are the odds, that he’s here, in the waiting room of the ER, at the same time as you are.

a/n: this was something I dreamed up on a whim at 3 am on a rainy night and I just really wanted to share it!

summary: A flash-freeze split second of time.  

taglist: @cuddlyasahi @oli-imagines @artsamber @lydzisanerd​ @sunshines-and-tatertots​ @bb-noya​

Enjoy! xx  

“You look attractive with glasses on,” you say, fingers idly tracing unidentifiable shapes on Tooru’s beige sweater. 

He looks up from his novel -the gesture causing static to build up on your hair- and flashes you a lazy grin; amusement glowing slightly behind his eyes. 

“Oh? How attractive?”

Your head rests on his chest, and Oikawa can feel the movement of your jaw through his shirt when you speak.

“Like- reaaaaalllyyyy attractive,” you drawl, and he laughs. 

Casting a glance towards his glasses, your hand reaches up- tracing the frames; fingertips gently brushing across his skin when you find the bridge of his nose. Going upwards, you smooth your fingertips across his eyebrows gently, following your imaginary line to the point just above his ear.

You hum quietly. An old song from the radio drifts around your mind. 

He gazes at you from behind his lenses; like he’s enamoured and captivated by you- lying there in his old Sejoh jacket and fraying, fuzzy socks. 

To him, you’re almost ephermeral. Fleeting. This passing ebullience that comes and goes with the wind. A moment.

The Moment. 

But you’ll never leave him, and relief washes over him every time the thought comes to mind. 

The pads of your fingertips drift to his cheek, caressing his face gently. His skin is soft- supple, and it’s a wonder how he keeps it that way when you can barely find your own cleanser but-

He does it anyway. 

It’s one of the many, many things you love about him. 

Your fingers dip down to the ticklish spot on his neck, and he huffs as he scrunches up and swats your hand away teasingly. He lingers for a moment, letting his thumb rub a circle onto your knuckle.

“It’s the way he looks at you,” people say.

It is, you think. 

He looks at you like you’re every star in the sky. 

He looks like you like he loves you. 

And that- that is worth more than anything astrology could offer. 

So as Tooru rolls you both over on the couch, flinging his book onto the adjacent coffee table with surprising accuracy and pressing butterfly kisses to your collarbone, you muse to yourself. 

Fei! @feirella <3 hello, I hope you’re well & safe + healthy!

Thank you for sending this in & for letting me make a time stamp out of your ask! Without further ado, here it is! 

a/n: this did not veer in the direction I originally PLANNED HAHA- this was supposed to be a timestamp of [9:51 AM] but it became more of a fic >:)-

enjoy!! xx

pairing: oikawa x reader

warnings: mentions of food, contains hq spoilers!

pt. 1 • pt. 2 (an accompaniment to this! simply a flashback I wrote for fun. :)

the dust (has settled)-

The sight of Oikawa in your old gymnasium is like spotting a flame in a spark.

He isn’t in his jersey, nor his club uniform. He’s just there- spinning a volleyball in his palms with a sort of grace that you don’t recognize.

Bag swinging over your shoulder, you enter as quietly as possible.

The click of the door behind you is audible; echoing across the arched ceiling.

There’s a curve in his lips, a slight acknowledgment to his cheeks when he hears your arrival.

Nevertheless, you slink to the bench to set down your things.

For a moment or so, you watch him fiddle with the ball; turning it with calm hands.

It’s only when he sets it down that you speak up, crossing your legs and playing with the strap of your canvas tote.

“Hey.”

He gives you a charmed smile.

“Hey.”

“You’ve grown,” you say, in lieu of what you’re thinking. The statement is subdued.

Did you learn anything while you were away?

Did you find what you were looking for?

“6’5,” he responds. He knows that’s not what you mean.

There’s an unfamiliarity in the way he moves; like you’ve missed something- and you suppose you have. 

Not for a lack of trying, of course- people grow apart, and you imagine this new pro-player Tooru isn’t too stocked on leisure time (neither are you)- but there’s a hole in between the high school him and the current him before you now. 

The change is intangible and unnamed. 

Your nails click against the wooden seats as a false replacement for conversation.

Getting up, you walk towards him, torn between looking down or at ahead.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asks. 

His hair is shorter than you remember, freshly cut and harder to ruffle.

“Oh,” you shift your weight, “a fundraising dinner for the club. I’m gonna be a good alumnus.”

You grin, and he chuckles. There’s a certain effort in the sound that makes you draw in a breath. 

Empty pause.

“It’s nice to see you again.” His words elicit a nod.

“You look good,” he adds.

Suave.

You expect there to be a wink; a blown kiss- but nothing. His arms stay by his side, idle almost. He’s lost resemblance to the boy you remember- the one whose fingers itched to set; dismissive flirting and torrential drive.

You push a smile into your cheeks and step closer.

“You too. You look,” you rock back on your heels, hands stuffed into your pockets, “different.”

Wait. 

Your temple pulses. 

“Different from when I last saw you, I mean. Not that you were bad before. Good! You look good.”

Searching for something to describe how he seems now, you press your tongue against your teeth.

“You look happier.”

Oikawa doesn’t react much to your statement, blinking when you stiffly extend a hand to shake.

There’s a bubbling worry that this is awkward, that as the vbc’s former manager you should be able to greet him more warmly.

Former manager, you think- and the uncertainty of how this Tooru will react has you unwilling to move from your spot. 

He does take it though, and to your surprise, pulls you into a hug.

It takes you a moment to reply.

“Hey,” you repeat carefully- the syllable interrupted by a quiet hum.

Oikawa, in particular Tooru fashion, smells like the sun.

Swaying slightly, Tooru gives you a long squeeze.

“Thank you.”

You make a muted noise of curiosity, tilting your chin until it rests gently on his shoulder.

“For what?”

You were a good friend, Tooru wants to say. 

He settles for: “Managing us. I bet we didn’t give you an easy time.” 

He accompanies the sentence with a playful eyebrow raise.

You pull away, wrinkling your nose playfully.

“Well, you guys weren’t that bad. A little chaotic, but-” you snicker lightly.

“Plus,” you pause, “you made me proud.” 

You muster up your softest smile. 

I missed you.

You look at the new him as impartially as you can.

The manifestations of his success are there- in the pin on his jacket; his posture.

But he still rubs the back of his neck at your compliment, and you guess that this Oikawa, however enigmatic, is what the core of Tooru was meant for.

The atmosphere is full of things you don’t know and want to learn.

He runs a hand through his hair.

You bite your lip, meeting his gaze.

“I’m uh- supposed to check out potential caterers today; for the dinner. Would you...want to come with?”

You give him a shrug and a hopeful expression.

A beat of contemplation passes. By the time you think to ask for his response, he’s already zipping up his jacket, turning in the direction of the door.

Gaze appreciative, he glances back at you.

“Sure.”

And as he leans against the exit, waiting as you grab your things, there’s a lightness in your steps. 

Oikawa holds the door open with a flourish, gesturing for you to go first.

You oblige with a teasing curtsy.

“How chivalrous.”

He smirks back.

You two walk out of the gym, wind picking up as you leave.

Closing the distance between you, your feet shuffle sideways.

“Tooru?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still use the same cologne?”

“...Noo.” The corners of his eyes wrinkle, and a mischievous glint in his eye catches the light.

You nudge his shoulder and laugh, and it comes out a little easier.

“Same old me, right?” he quips.

You shake your head, muscles loosening.

nevertheless, you find yourself standing just across the street from your childhood home, watching as people stream in and out the front door, the sound of happy eating and chatter floating over the fence. your steps stutter to a halt, your breath shortening.

“is everything okay?” oikawa’s voice is as gentle as the breeze. when you don’t respond, he takes your wrist, and you turn and hide your face in his shoulder.

“i’m so nervous,” your voice is muffled by his shirt. “i’ve never done this before.”

“hey,” one hand rests loosely on your bicep, while his other comes up to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look in his eyes. “it’ll be fine. it’ll be great, even.”

you still feel like you’re drowning in panic, looking at him with pleading eyes, leaning closer to him as though he could grow large and shield you with sun-browned skin and sky-blue shirts.

he smiles, just with his eyes, and those clear brown irises and huge black pupils are the last thing you see before he’s adjusting his grip on your chin just slightly, sliding his large palm across your jaw, and leaning in. silvertongue, you’ve heard him called, and though no words are being exchanged between you, you can’t help but agree as every worry flies out of your head.

you put both hands up to his face as he kisses you beneath a rapidly changing peach and turquoise sky. when you break apart, your heartbeat hasn’t sped up— if anything, it’s slowed, your blood turned to simple syrup in your veins.

damn, he’s good.

“you have nothing to worry about,” he reminds you, and you nod, breathing deeply. “your family will love me.”

“cocky.” there’s no bite to your words.

“you’re not disagreeing,” he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. “we’ll go in, i’ll sweep them off their feet, i’ll sweep you away—”

you finish for him.

“and no one will know that none of it was ever real.”

a/n: hello! this has been one of the few hq fics I’ve worked on during hiatus :0- though it’s the only one I’ve completed!! a huge thanks to @itadorri​ for looking over this for me <33! this is a flashback from “the dust (has settled)” and is a bit of history of what happened between oikawa and y/n!

pairing: oikawa x reader

warnings: arguing, comparisons to/mentions of fire, oikawa’s knee injury, crying

pt. 1 • pt. 2 

His feet slam onto the planks, landing in a way that makes the floor shake.

The volleyball he’s just served launches through the air, a rapidly spinning mass of yellow and blue. It collides with the wall and is left bouncing despondently on the hardwood.

He throws the next one- shoes skidding across the tiles again to serve it. It hits the same spot. The resulting crash leaves you reeling, stunned, and frozen in place.

Residue is left on the wall from its point of impact.

Tooru seems to stiffen- seizing yet another ball from the ones piled at his feet and spinning it.

This one still matches the previous serves, and you can feel the sound vertebrate to where you’re leaning against the door. Your sight flickers downward.

You dig your heels into the ground and brace yourself.

The next ball is accompanied by a resounding slam and a trembling inhale.

Tooru moves slower across the court, one of his soles barely brushing the floor. Your vision narrows on him.

He shifts his weight, left leg bearing the brunt of his activity. He limps backwards, settling into position. He can’t wipe the wince off his expression.

You scramble away from the entrance.