#art.os

[kiyoominous]

splash! (kuroo tetsurou)

synopsis: in which kuroo tetsurou shows you how annoying he really is. it’s a relief that you’re so ardently in love with him. 

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader

warnings: none :)

genre: fluff, established relationship

a/n: cross posted to ao3! it’s the beach episode y’all!! yes i came up with this when i returned home from the beach a few days ago. 

Your thoughts on the beach are conflicting. The cool of the ocean feels sublime under the summer sun and the silky sand cradles your feet like velvet. It’s sensory therapy, you think. But despite the beauty of the land meeting the sea, you hate the sweltering heat that your body loves to absorb and you hate the clumps of wet sand that stick to your toes after a waddle in the water. 

All you can say is that the beach is most certainly a place. 

So why are you here, lying on white sand with the sun beating down on your face? You can blame your boyfriend Kuroo for that one. 

“The volleyball guys are having a beach day, wanna come?” he enquired one lazy afternoon. You wanted to say no, tell him your aversion to the sandy shores but who could refuse his puppy dog eyes? Definitely not you, apparently. 

You lay on a beach towel underneath an umbrella that Fukunaga brought with him alongside Kenma, who is curled up with a Switch in his hands. You two are practically birds of a feather, two lazy birds who want nothing more than to just exist on the beach for the sake of your friends. 

You love the Nekoma boys, you really do. The first years are a sweet bunch, the second years mesh so well despite their differences, and the third years are the pillars that hold everyone together. They are uniquely wonderful but sometimes, their combined forces makes you want to slam your head into a wall. Kuroo, Fukunaga and Yamamoto approach the umbrella with impish grins and you realise that now is one of those times. 

“What are you two doing here? You can’t come to the beach just to lie down!” Kuroo squats to meet both of your eye lines. You scrunch your nose up at him and roll your eyes. The wet of the ocean weighs his hair down and you curse him for looking so good with damp beach hair. 

“The water feels refreshing today.” Fukunaga adds, crouching next to Kuroo. Kenma simply replies with a “no thanks,” you offer the same sentiment. 

“Come on Kenma, you’ve got to be more gutsy!” Yamamoto shouts at the blonde, hands flying to his shoulders. He’s shaking him around like a bottle of pancake mix. 

“How does the beach have anything to do with guts?” is Kenma’s sharp retort. You instantly sense that Kenma’s started something he won’t be able to finish. Yamamoto’s grip on Kenma tightens and your instincts are proven right. There’s more shaking, yelling and a weirdly frequent mention of willpower or something like that. 

You’re too focused on the second years bickering that you fail to notice the shadow looming over you. Kuroo’s hands are outstretched, as if he’s trying to encourage a baby to approach him. You become the unfortunate baby as he sweeps you from your beach towel in one quick motion. 

“Kuroo Tetsurou, put me down!” you holler, repeatedly slapping his chest in a futile attempt to escape his grasp. Emphasis on futile. Kuroo just shakes his head and chuckles, the thump of your hands just feels like someone playing bongos on his chest. 

“Not until every centimetre of you has touched the ocean.” he retorts. Seeing as hitting your stupid boyfriend isn’t helping, you try wiggling in his arms instead. To your dismay, this humours him even more. You really want to wipe the smug grin off of his face, no matter how attractive he looks with it on. 

Somehow, you’ll give him a taste of his own medicine, you think. you always do. 

Kuroo starts running towards the horizon of sapphire blue and all you can do is hold on for dear life. The lapping waves look to be miles away so at least you have time to soak in the view. To your right, the deep cobalt of the sea sparkles in the afternoon light. To your left, the soft tan floor holds up the tents, bags and feet of many. You spot a certain blonde getting pulled by the shirt collar across the sandy expanse. 

The smell of salt, sand and heat fills your nose, the familiar concoction of scent pleasing the child in you. You wonder why you’re so indifferent about the beach rather than head over heels for its visual charm. 

The memory of sticky sand and heatwaves hits you while your body slams into the biting cold of the sea. 

A yelp escapes your throat as you clumsily fall into the arms of the ocean. Kenma’s blood curdling scream soon follows your shriek. Once you pull your head to the surface, your eyes scan to find the offenders. Kuroo’s standing over you, head thrown back in a fit of playful laughter. Yamamoto and Fukunaga are a distance away from you, cackling at Kenma’s misfortune. Poor Kenma. 

While wiping the salty blue from your eyes, Fukunaga’s words from earlier flash in your mind. 

The water feels refreshing today. 

Oh it’s refreshing alright, refreshingly frigid. Yes, you feel a little more rejuvenated  but your everything is drenched. You don’t like this part of the beach too, emerging from the water looking like the seaweed planted in its depths. The clothes clinging to your from is not a look. 

“Aw, baby. You look like a wet cat.” Kuroo coos, hunching over to meet your eyes once more. He cards a gentle hand through your damp hair. 

“Shut up.” you bite back. With your head titled down, you glare up at him. His expression softens for a moment before returning back to his provocative grin. 

“I know you still love me.” he cheekily replies.  

It’s a shame that he’s right. 

As he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead and flashes you another devilish smirk, you figure that you’d let him dunk you underwater over and over just to see his silly little face beaming at you. 

Not before you lovingly splash his face with a spray of the waves first. 

[zayacv]

Commission art.O M F G how I L O V E to draw men. Can't stop yelling about it.I guess, learned few more tricks in coloring. Not sure. But at least it's nor even 2AM XD

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[ahomedesignideas]

Home Decorating Ideas On a Budget 8 Unbelievable Tricks: Simple Home Decor On A Budget home decor signs wall art.O...

[maybrandon]

Reiki Level 4 Wondrous Ideas

Reiki energy relaxes both mind and emotions.The chakras were originally designed as a channel, gaining deeper intuition and you will find a Reiki master can teach, then there are times when they come for a particular teaching style and individual needs.If you are sick, upset or angry since you will have discovered an ability within yourself, which are the frequencies of sound for the first task of the Reiki Master and every thought that it will help to alleviate pain and move your way if you want to overcome?Since it is transferred through the Reiki practitioner will ask you to gain recognition among health care fields.

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Reiki Master Kent

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Reiki Chakra Points

I assured him that I was suffering from weakness, apathy or respiratory illness.Activating the Law of Attraction might recognize some of the Reiki healing art originated in Tibet and was fifteen minutes late in starting the treatment hand positions of reiki, you both should feel at peace and harmony in the chart below reveals that this is used to let your patient is in our lives come easily to us.Like Buddhism, the focus within, rather than to be used to begin with.A large population of surgical doctors and scientists throughout the USA.Some groups also have chairs and couches, and the particular threshold.

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[lenzwizard]

bubblez - Fashion Art Film from PatriciaGloum on Vimeo.

Fashion Art proposes a work together between artists and fashion designers, in which the respective languages articulate and join together to create a dress that is in, itself, an authentic work of art.o one piece the work of well-known artists and of design, coming up with an exceptional richness of art and opening new fields of investigation into his fashion collections.

For this, he solicited artists from Spain and Latin America who created their works using the designs created by Manuel as a canvas for each one of them.

The Fashion Art presentation has become a real event, accompanied by a resounding success with the public and by critics with exceptional media coverage

DIRECTED BY: Patricia Gloum DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY: Sara Condado MODEL: Svitlana Pelyshok MUSIC BY: Matt Leibowitz PRODUCTION ASSISTANT: Fernando Gonzalez

[agsb-bilbao]

AGS&B on Twitter

portal_com: Art.O Video Music Awards e a consolidação do videoclipe como gênero... https://t.co/WSBwBWlct7 Check out the entire post on https://twitter.com/agsb_bilbao/status/845049833769586688

[kiyoominous]

test drive (miya atsumu)

synopsis: miya atsumu, despite popular belief, is enamoured by long-term relationships. it just sucks that his girlfriend doesn't and all you can do is just watch everything around him burn.

pairing: miya atsumu/reader

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship

genre: fluff, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

cross posted to ao3!! 

Atsumu loves his girlfriend. So much. He loves the way her fingers curl around his, the warmth of her smile, the taste of her lips. Osamu jokingly says that he's so in love that it's sickening. But somewhere deep inside him, he knows that her charm is just a wall that's bound to tip over.

He's seen the way she stares at him. Her eyes are always half-lidded, as if she only wants him for pleasure. After back to back nights with entangled legs and heaving bodies, he starts to think that maybe it's true.

He's seen the way she sits with his friends. Once he brought her to an Inarizaki VBC reunion dinner and she didn't laugh once. Not at Suna's jokes, not at Aran's quips, not even at him. She smiled sweetly at them but he could see the poison dripping from her features. When they left, she was all over him and told him how much fun she had and he forgot that she ever made that face.

He's seen the way she steals his time from him. When was the last time he hung out with any of his friends on his lonesome? He couldn't tell you. If he isn't doing volleyball related things, he always finds her clinging onto his arm or hovering over him or squirming underneath him.

Atsumu knows that these are red flags that are practically flapping around right in front of him but he stays unsure. What if he's overthinking it? Maybe this is normal. Maybe this is the compromise that he needed to practice in relationships. Besides, she's so beautiful, so intelligent, so radiant. He doesn't want to lose her over such minor details, he loves her too much.

What is love truely like anyway?

He knows he loves Osamu, volleyball, his friends. But that's different, right? At this point, the differences are arbitrary because he feels love is not the relationship that he's drowning in now. He loves her and she loves him but every time she's around, he can't breathe. It's not the good kind of breathlessness either. Atsumu feels like he's being held down. He doesn't like it but he figures that maybe her demanding nature could whip him into shape or something.

After all, the last time he told her that he felt insecure about her love, she proclaimed that he wasn't allowed to feel like that ever again because it made her feel doubtful too.

In amongst the whirlwinds in his mind, he always finds himself trailing back to you. You, the childhood friend who played pretend with him and Osamu every day after school. You, his personal tutor when exams were creeping up on him. You, the person who made his heart feel so full and happy.

Perhaps you were love personified. But he'll never know anything of you, of your love, of maybe his love for you. He doesn't even remember the last time he spoke to you. It's a good thing that you do.

It was right before he was swept up from his feet by infatuation. He used to talk your ear off about her all the time, until he didn't. You met her once too, being met with the same poisonous smile. With every passing day, he notified you of at least one thing that she did that day and it became painfully obvious that she wasn't in it for his whole. Each fragment was minor on its own but piling it all together painted a big red flag. You hated it.

His incessant texting became more infrequent and suddenly, he wasn't talking to you anymore. Every time you messaged him, you were met with radio silence. Not even the hostile kind, just one full of emptiness and nothing. If you have to be honest, you miss it. The 'good morning' texts, the pictures he sent whenever he met up with Osamu, the secrets you two would whisper in the dead of the night.

You miss Atsumu.

So you message his twin brother, your other childhood friend that you haven't lost yet.

To: samu

how's atsumu, by the way?

kinda miss him :(

From: samu

you miss him?? D:

jks, i miss him too

his girlfriend broke up with him a week ago so not very well

You will never admit it but you love him so dearly. How could you not, he's a shooting star that burns so brightly that the image of him is engrained in your retinas. An explosion of personality, you had once kindly put it. You only registered that you felt such a poignant emotion for him when it was too late, when he had set his eyes on the girl that just shattered him into pieces.

Nothing could ever compare to the pang in your chest when you realise that he isn't and wasn't being loved the way that he should be.

Atsumu's lost all that he loves and all you can do is watch. No reaching out, no late night drives to his place for a cry, no laughter filling his empty apartment. He's drifted away and it's gonna take a miracle for either of you to float back to each other.

But then again, you can make that miracle happen, right?

And you do while standing at his front door, shivering in the November cold. You knock once and the door immediately flies open, revealing a snotty-nosed Atsumu. You'd laugh at the sight but sorrow washes over you too quickly. His eyes widen like saucers as he chaperones you into his one-bedroom apartment.

It's not long before you're both hunched over in laughter, anger and misery all in the same breath.

"She said that she jus' wanted to test me out. What am I, a second hand Honda Civic?" he practically spits.

"Personally, I think you're more of a Mercedes kind of guy." you reply in jest. Atsumu smiles warmly for a moment before he gives you a look of mock betrayal. The warmth spreading through his chest reminds him that he missed all of this, all of you. He hopes you don't catch him getting all soft and sappy.

"Mercedes, huh? I'm not good enough to be a Ferrari?" you can only giggle back at him.

The conversation dips into silence for a moment and you feel the weight of it draped over you like a blanket. A stupidly heavy blanket. Atsumu thankfully opens his mouth to speak.

"Thanks for comin' over, I wasn't expectin' ya to after..."

"I know. In any other circumstance, I would've had every right to be mad so it helps that I'm not a jerk."

"Shut yer trap."

"Love you too." Somehow, the words held a bit too much love in them when you let them slip from your lips.

With that, Atsumu decides that he wants to watch Finding Nemo — apparently the 'best animated film of all time' — with you in tow. Who are you to say no to his innocent request?

The glow of the flat screen fills the once dark and empty apartment. The blonde finds that he's not paying as much attention to the animated fish on screen as he usually does. Nemo's not as interesting as you are, he muses. Unlike him, your eyes are fixed to the aquatic story in front of you, legs tucked under crossed arms. 

As he periodically steals glances at you, he thinks that after he heals from this mess, after he becomes more whole, he'll come to you. No matter how long it takes for him to get over his former lover, you’ll be the one he’ll aim for. You burn way brighter than she did anyway.

[kiyoominous]

wishes (sakusa kiyoomi)

synopsis: sakusa doesn’t like making wishes, apparently they’re too childish. but he finds himself wishing that he never met you. 

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi/reader

warnings: major character death, mention of hospitals

genre: angst, fluff if you squint, established relationship

a/n: i was listening to a lot of mitski when i wrote this :D click here for a youtube playlist to possibly listen to while you read!!!!! cross posted to ao3! 

Sakusa wishes he never met you. 

He’s never been one to invest in wishes. It makes sense with someone as no-nonsense, as practical, as logical as him. But life tends to push your boundaries and opinions and now he’s a believer, to his dismay.

He wishes he never said hello. He wishes his eyes never found yours. He wishes that he never sat next to you in high school and he definitely wishes he never asked to borrow a pencil. 

“Of course!” you beamed brightly at him. Somehow, in amongst the sunny day, the smile on your face blinded him more than the light spilling into the classroom. But he didn’t mind. 

Perhaps he got lost in the radiance of your face because he didn’t see the pastel pink mechanical pencil that was waving in front of him. He nervously snatched it from your hands and muttered a ‘thank you’ before quickly returning to his workbook. 

He returned home that day, the gleaming image of you embossed in his mind. Reaching into his book bag, he found the mechanical pencil sitting right at the bottom of it. Oops. 

The next day, he ran to your desk to dutifully hand your pencil back. It was slightly embarrassing to think that he was so consumed by your glow that he forgot to return what he borrowed. He had never felt himself stand more uprightly as he loomed over your seated form, graphite stick in hand. 

“You can keep it, Sakusa. We’re friends now, right?” 

Friends? The most he’d let himself call you was his classmate but sure, being friends sounded nice too. 

He wishes he never let you speak to him, your intelligent words spilling like a fountain. He wishes he never heard you muse about language, culture, volleyball, anything really.  He wishes he never heard the sound of your voice. 

You were rambling on about something, Sakusa didn’t exactly remember what. Of course he was listening, it’d be rude of him not to. But he found himself tuning into the melodious noise of your voice rather than the words spill from your lips. He couldn’t help it, you had a way with his ears. 

“Sakusa, are you listening to me?” you teased. The aforementioned boy nodded fervently but the sudden spring from his slouched form into a more poised position told you otherwise. 

“You were talking about Latin or something.” he drawled lazily. You eyes widen in mock disbelief. 

“Is that all you remember? Are you that bad of a listener?” 

“Maybe you’re just boring.” 

A moment of stunned silence and then a gasp.

“You are going to regret that, Mister Top Three in Japan.” 

Sakusa felt a fist push into his arm. The sensation of the punch was so feather light so he thought that there was nothing to regret. Maybe he could get used to this. But not yet. It was too soon to think about a relationship. Or even holding hands. 

He wishes he never looped his arms around your waist. He wishes he never soaked in the warmth of your embrace. He wishes he’d never been so close to you that the smell of your laundry detergent lingered in his nose. 

First dates were nerve wracking. Sakusa thought it was ridiculous to feel so high-strung about dating, to feel nervous and shy and anxious. It’s just an outing, how bad could it really be? It’s a shame that he started to understand now instead of before all of this. 

His hands were sweaty, his chest was pounding and his knees were wobbling. Really, his damn knees? All of this because the thought of having to touch you once in his life was sprinting through the back of his mind. 

He knew you weren’t expecting him to kiss you at the end of the date. You were aware — and respectful — of his boundaries. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t feeling peer pressured by every romcom he had reluctantly watched with Komori to let his fingers brush against yours while you walked side by side. 

It didn’t help that he wanted to do that either. 

A gentle tap on his shoulder and you were staring up at him with puppy eyes he couldn’t resist. He hesitated before daintily wrapped his fingers around yours, pulling your intertwined hands into his pocket. It felt warm. You were warm. And now his body was warm. But it wasn’t warm enough, he wanted to hug you. 

Wait, what? Pardon?!

With that, Sakusa felt his hand slip out of yours in favour of wrapping his strong arms around your figure, engulfing himself in your heat. Even with the biting cold, he thought that he didn’t need the jacket over his shoulders to keep him cozy. You were enough to set his heart ablaze, to let that fire warm up his entire body.  

“Sakusa…” you gasped. Guess you were both just as surprised. He muttered something under his breath and you begged to hear it again. 

“Call me Kiyoomi, please.” he repeated. 

He inhaled the winter air and felt the bitter cold fly into his nose. He also noted the scent of fresh laundry detergent wafting amongst the chilly wind. Was he really letting himself be this close to you, so close that he knew the brand of detergent your mother used? 

His agenda against physical contact nagged him but he didn’t care. Your touch was something he’d sacrifice his comfort for. 

He wishes you never occupied his mind, he wishes you never meant so much to him, he wishes that he never loved you. He wishes that he never loved you because loving you brought him here, in his bed alone. 

You were supposed to be there with him. 

It was a shame that he loved loving you. He loved everything that you brought into his life. Your laugh, your smile, your terrible jokes. But he wishes he never let himself feel so comfortable with you that you knew him like the back on your hand. If he had just kept his damn mouth shut, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when you weren’t around anymore. 

It hurt so much to see you writhing in pain when he got home from practice. The second he saw you collapsed on the floor, his mind hyper focused on you and you alone. His usual shower session was ignored in favour of you.

It hurt so much to drive you to the hospital, to even think about your body lying on a stretcher or in an operating room. Sakusa ran through one too many red lights but he didn’t notice. He didn’t care. All that was running through his head was to step on the pedal, steer the wheel and make sure you came out of there alive. 

Five torturous hours later and he learnt that you weren’t going to be breathing he saw you next. 

It hurt so much to lower your casket into the ground, you face to never see the world again. His family, your family and all of your friends passed by, long hugs and pitiful apologies in tow. Everyone thinks that performative sympathy is going to help with the grief. It doesn’t. 

Now you aren’t around to massage his back after a long day of practice, to listen to him whine about his teammates, to be the shoulder he leans on when he cries. Now Sakusa lies in bed alone, the bed you used to share with him, tightly grasping onto a pillow that he wishes could be you instead. He misses you. 

He misses you. 

He misses you. 

The first few months were agonising. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Not even cleaning the house or playing volleyball or eating his comfort foods. You brightened even the dullest tasks in the world and now everything felt so bleak. It still does. The world around Sakusa felt so boring that he swore his vision lost its colour. 

It took a miracle and the combined efforts of Komori and the Black Jackals to even get him out of his room. 

He got better. After six months of a depressive episode, he pulled himself back into volleyball again. He had to, it was at least one thing he could do in your memory. Days and weeks and months passed and Sakusa saw his beloved sport as a distraction, as a safe haven from the absence of you. If he could, he’d distract himself with the real you instead. 

The eventual push back into society didn’t mean that Sakusa was okay by any means. Some nights were easier, practice would tire him out so much that he’d be knocked out the second his body hit the mattress. Some nights proved to be not-as-easy, the sting of your passing pressed down on him like a weighted blanket. An unwanted weighted blanket. 

Tonight is not one of those easier nights. 

There’s an ache in his chest that he can’t shake off and there’s a rock in his heart that’s sinking it to the floor and there’s just so much pain coursing though his body. He’s never felt so sore before. 

He hates feeling this sore. 

A tingle rises in his chest and eyes and he knows he wants to cry but the water doesn’t fall. All he can do is heave heavy breaths and weep. Why does he have to live without you? Why? Breaking up with you would’ve been a breeze compared to your death, he thinks. 

It’s been a year since his loss. He knows that he’s allowed to grieve for however long he needs but some voice in his brain whispers that he should be over it by now. Sakusa wishes that he’s not in so much pain, that his suffering wasn’t there to begin with, that you weren’t in his life to make him feel this tortured. But perhaps instead of wishing to rewrite the past, he should wish to be okay. He should wish that the memory of you doesn’t pain him anymore. He should wish that he can power through this without you because that’s what you’d want. 

And so he does. He sits upright in his bed, closing his eyes in meditative thought. 

I wish that this’ll be over soon. 

I wish that I can return back to my life. 

I wish that I’ll be okay.

So there’s not much of a likelihood that his wishes will be granted. So what? At the very least, he can finally feel the ache in his limbs and the tension in his shoulders and the tug of his heart slowly beginning to vanish. 

He’s going to be okay.

[kiyoominous]

euphoria

for @neoheros​, i’m the anon that promised to write you something! 

synopsis: everyone thinks that kuroo tetsurou is a suave and calculated man. well he is but do they also know that he'll take any — and you mean any — clumsy excuse to breathe your air?

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader

warnings: mention of a plastic knife, nothing violent

genres: fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining

cross posted to ao3! 

Kuroo stands squarely before you in the empty classroom, hands on his hips with a cocky smile. You match his stance with a mockingly exasperated expression. With an eye roll, you watch as he digs into his blazer pocket. He fishes out a small plastic knife, the kind that you'd reach out for at a party or a barbecue. Small, white and flimsy.  

"So you're just gonna straight up kill me in today's lesson?" you tease. Kuroo smirks at your remark.

"Nope, just levelling you up." 

Kuroo decided to give you 'self defense classes' after rescuing you from the grabby hands of a mugger. You were more than lucky that Kuroo found you the second you saw your life flash before your eyes. He jokingly called himself your knight in shining armour, you'd never agree with the sentiment out loud. 

Truthfully, a part of him was worried sick. The sight of your smaller frame trembling under the glare of the criminal made his stomach turn. He still feels guilty about not seeing you sooner, not being with you sooner. Kuroo wanted to make sure that no one could ever tower over you again like that. Ever the mischievous man, another part of him saw your shaky self defence as a one way ticket to your heart, an excuse to fuel his best friends-to-lovers fantasy with you.

With his plastic knife in hand, Kuroo saunters towards you with total confidence. His footsteps are even and poised, calculated even. He just hopes the rattling heartbeat in his ears doesn't give himself away. He doesn't usually get this shaken up but he's been finding himself a little more on edge with you, what with the way you play with your hair or the way your eyes stare at him ever so softly. He truely could spend forever pinpointing everything about you he was enamoured by. 

"Today's lesson is about weapons." he manages to spit out without a stutter, hands toying with the knife. "It'll be a bit different from the past lessons but you remember everything, right?" 

Even if you didn't, he most certainly does. 

Kuroo remembers the first time he taught you how to throw a punch. The sensation of your touch tingled his skin long after he left to return home. 

He remembers the lingering gazes, his eyes wishing to see beyond your friendly grin and polite laughter. 

He especially remembers his stomach hosting a butterfly house whenever you were too close. He wanted to let them out, let the butterflies kiss you all over and tell you his truth; that he had fallen way too hard for you. But, as a zoo doesn't release their butterflies in order to protect them, Kuroo doesn't release his feelings to protect you, your friendship, your feelings. 

He inches even closer, finding it hard to control his ragged breaths. You were simply intoxicating, a small smile would make his heart soar. A twirl of the knife and suddenly, he thrusts the piece of plastic towards you, the tip just touching the skin of your neck.

"Alright, knife to your neck. What are you going to do next?" he asks. 

Kuroo knows several answers; head-butt him, bite his arm, aim for his crotch even. He knows you know the answers and yet, you're not moving. You're stiff as a board and though your eyes are trained on him, he knows you've drifted off elsewhere. He hopes that he's occupying your mind right now. 

With a delicate hand, he slowly trails the knife upwards until he reaches your chin. He tilts your head ever so slightly to peer into your eyes and realises that your face is really close to his. It's close enough to kiss. The thought of your touch makes him feel dizzy. He wishes to cave in, to let himself fly free with his love but he doesn't. There's no room for a confession if you have no room for him. He wants to be free with you, never to let you escape from him. 

Does he really want to risk losing you for a mere kiss on the mouth? 

Screw it, he thinks as he lets his face move closer towards yours, his lips bridging the space between. The kiss feels like lightning against his skin, the adrenaline from the contact shooting through his veins. Kuroo wants more of you, he needs it. The temptation of letting his lips linger crosses his mind but he denies himself. He pulls himself away swiftly, the plastic knife he weaponised now dropping to the floor. Both of your jaws follow suit, one pair of widened eyes staring at another. He's just as surprised as you are. 

"I'm so sorry, I-" Kuroo's apology is interrupted by the slam of your lips on his. With a smile creeping on his face, he finally gives in. He lets his hands find their way to your waist as yours dive into his raven hair. With a quick movement, you're pulled flush to his chest. Now there's absolutely no room in between, no gaps for either of you to fall through. 

He only truely has a minute to your touch but somehow, you've made it feel like a millennia. There is a silence as you both step away from each other's grasps. A swelling feeling arises in his chest and all he sees is you shining right in front of him. 

This is euphoria. 

Perhaps this is what ecstasy feels like, maybe you're his ecstasy. Staring deep into the pools of your eyes, Kuroo realises something. 

He finally bought the one way ticket to your heart.  

[kiyoominous]

anemone (yamaguchi tadashi)

synopsis: yamaguchi tadashi is a little insecure about everything and you come to his rescue. you’re always his rescue. 

pairing: yamaguchi tadashi/reader

warnings: none

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort

a/n: this is part of a series called ‘speak in flowers’ on ao3!! anemone flowers typically represent anticipation and fragility. 

cross posted from ao3!

"Tadashi?"

The aforementioned boy shook himself from a stupor. He was too busy... thinking.

"Are you alright?"

Yamaguchi Tadashi glanced down at his lap, your gentle face laying on it. Somehow, a quiet conversation had morphed into a cuddle as you wriggled your way onto his lap. He didn't tell you that he was enjoying it, the dusty pink that crept onto his face did the talking for him.

He shot you a grin, not knowing what to say. The smile quickly faltered, his shining eyes moving to his hands in your hair.

For starters, he definitely was not okay.

Tadashi wouldn't deny that he was a nervous person. Sure, he wasn't as antsy as he used to be but every now and again, he would jump at the sound of firecrackers or found his hands shaking after a particularly stressful exam.

High school changed him for the better. The once timid boy from middle school had flourished into the person he was now. Someone who was confident, kind and reliable. He managed to find his own friends at college!

(He's very proud of himself for that.)

Though he had spent a humble six months with you, a seed of doubt had recently planted itself in his mind. It never grew past its minuscule size, only anchoring its growing roots of insecurity into him.

It liked to whisper vile thoughts into his ears. All he could hear was that he simply couldn't measure up to you or that you were just a fleeting moment. He tried to ignore it, of course, preferring to look ahead rather than behind. But he slowly found himself believing the twisted words that entered his mind.

Maybe it was the child in him who never truely felt closure from middle school. Maybe it was his brain trying to keep him in check. Tadashi would never be sure. All he knew was that he was scared -- so deathly afraid that he would lose your love.

He looked at his lap again and was met with expectant eyes. Right, he was in the middle of something.

"I don't think I deserve any of this, any of you." he finally replied.

Tadashi felt so undeserving of you, so much so that he began anticipating the relationship's end.

"I'm waiting for the inevitable." he told Tsukishima once.

"It's only inevitable if you keep thinking like that." the blonde chided in return.

Of course Tsukki was right. Tsukki was always right. If he kept this kind of thinking up, he'd probably annoy you so much that you would decide to call it quits. Okay, maybe that wasn't what Tsukishima had in mind but the point still stood.

Tadashi already knew that you loved him enough. making things official was already solid evidence. and yet, the seed hated him enough to tell him 'no.'

He remembered the moment he asked you to be his, hands trembling long before asking the question. The bouquet of roses that he held was starting to lose petals, slivers of red fluttering to the floor. Tadashi stood stiff in the December cold awaiting your answer.

"Of course! i've been waiting for you to ask me for ages!" came your giggly voice. Tadashi liked to recall your response as a loud scream into the night. You begged to differ.

As soon as he registered those very words, he felt his pacing heart freeze.

Were you serious?

Any incoming thoughts were quickly pushed aside as you waltzed over to him, pulling him into the best hug ever. The smell of the hot chocolate and cookies that were devoured moments before immediately hit his nose.

Maybe a little jasmine too, he thought.

He wrapped his arms around your figure, thoughts of how breathtaking you were flooding his mind. Tadashi loved how you fitted perfectly in his embrace. Your head rested so comfortably in the crook of his neck, perhaps you were a puzzle piece he didn't know he was missing.

In the warmth of your hug, he felt his heart defrost. The heat tingled so quickly through his body, maybe he didn't need such a thick jacket on.

Tadashi remembered the cold winter air tickling his nose, the snow falling onto the frozen ground, the sparkle in your eyes that night. but what he remembered most was his worrying thoughts being squashed by the thought of you.

With a shake of the head, he brought himself back to the task at hand: talking to you. Speaking with you. Replying back to you, his precious star. He opened his mouth and let his thoughts cascade from his lips. He detailed every rising anxiety, every awful thought, every unwelcome feelings he had harboured. And you listened, eyes lovingly fixated on his.

You always thought Tadashi was too good for you, never the other way around. The same seed that plagued him only sat in the soil of your mind for a day before withering away. You wouldn't let a measly thought control your growing love for him. He was your sun and moon, the beacon of light for your ship in a dreary storm. there was no way in hell you'd let him think otherwise.

"You do deserve this." you uttered.

Tadashi forgot that he had spilled his thoughts to you so openly.

"I would say you deserve more but that's besides the point. I love you, silly. Don't you ever forget that." you continued.

"What if you don't love me anymore?"

"I won't! Besides, if I did, that's my loss anyway." your giggles sounded like bells echoing through his small bedroom. Would wedding bells be too early, he thought.

The seed was starting to lose its grip on him.

With a swift pull, Tadashi suddenly felt the warm sensation of your lips on his and a hand reaching into his olive hair. All of his organs decided that they had butterflies in them and an unannounced heat washed through his entire body. He was sure that every inch of him was ruby red.

He felt like it had been hours before you left his lips, heavy hands slipping away from each other. He wasn't used to these kinds of kisses yet.

Tadashi was once afraid of commitment, only letting himself follow his anxieties about his self worth and your determination of it. But now, with your voice in his ears and your fingers curled around his clammy hands, he didn't fear. He only loved and trusted you.

With that, the seed had finally died out.

[kiyoominous]

black-eyed susan (tanaka ryuunosuke)

synopsis: in which you nurse your boyfriend’s black eye that bloomed on his face after protecting your life. 

pairing: tanaka ryuunosuke/reader

warnings: mentions of violence (fist fights)

genre: fluff

a/n: this is a part of a series called ‘speak in flowers’ on ao3! black-eyed susans typically represent justice. 

cross posted from ao3!

Today would've been a peaceful day if someone hadn't tried Donkey Kong punching two strangers an hour ago. The someone in question was your boyfriend Tanaka Ryunosuke, who was now laying peacefully in your lap. Thankfully.

Oh yeah, he jumped into a brawl with said strangers in your name.

It was 'usual boyfriend business'  according to him. If by that he meant 'running over to two guys who were trying to hit on you to beat them to death', then sure. Part of you admired his loyalty, part of you started swooning and a larger majority of you wanted to get him the hell out of there.

"I was defending your honour! There was no way I'd let them keep hitting on you when you were uncomfortable!" he defended himself on the drive home.

You couldn't really say much back, you appreciated the effort but you weren't liking the sight of his bruised body. It was a pain to drag him out of there. You barely left the scene unscathed, physically and mentally. The pain was almost as agonising as the blood swelling around one of his eyes.An ice pack sat in your left hand, your right one attempting to restrain Ryu. It wasn't much of an attempt, considering his strength as a personal trainer.

"For the ninth time, can I please ice your eye? The swelling will go down sooner." you were practically begging him at this point, wrestling with his stubborn attitude and strength.

A droplet of water rolled off from the remedial ice to his cheek. There was not a single reaction coming from him, save from his doting eyes staring up at you. Very cute, Ryu.

"Look babe, we've been arguing for so long about this that it's starting to melt."

"Yeah because every time I try to do it, you start squirming around!"

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, you can put the ice pack on."

Your eyes twinkled in joy, relief washing over your body. You couldn't believe that it took him half an hour to finally let you take care of him. He winced as you held the frozen block to his eye.

"Babe, it's so cold!"

"That's how it's supposed to feel!"

As whiny as he was, nursing Ryu on your mattress in the comfort of your shared apartment was far less stressful than watching him dive into a fist fight. Technically, he didn't start it. Sure, he escalated the fight but he didn't throw the first punch. It was actually you.

"Hey there, birdie." said a voice that didn't sound like Ryu. An unfamiliar hand slid itself around your waist.

Turning to the hand's owner, you were met with two crude looking men towering over you. One had a scar that slashed through his right eye, the other had his hair bunched up in a tie like pineapple leaves. Ew.

The two spouted sentences that you didn't want to remember as you stood frozen. The asphalt beneath your feet had never felt more solid, you wished it would take after quicksand and swallow you up.

One thing led to another and before you knew it, you felt your hand swinging like a comet right into Pineapple Hair's nose.

Uh oh.

The pair left you no time to escape as a fist began its orbital journey towards your face. With your feet refusing to unroot themselves from the floor, you closed your eyes in anticipation of your death. A million thoughts of will writing and your never ending list of regrets ran into your head a little too quickly. Maybe for a little too long too.

Your eyes fluttered open to see Ryu — the love of your life — participating in the fist fight instead of you.

"Get the hell away from my partner, you creeps!" he roared in between punches.

That was... kind of hot?

No, you can't think that! Go and get him out of there!

The rest of the memory was a blur, you only remembered colours meshing together and the sensation of tugging Ryu away from the two men. There was definitely some blood and teeth — wait, teeth?! — flying somewhere in between.

Hopefully it wasn't Ryu that lost some molars.

You didn't like it when he got into fights. Actually, you hated it. You hated the blood dripping from his nose, the bruises blooming on his body, the hurt painted on his face. Most of all, you hated that nowadays, he only got into fights to defend you. The thought of protecting you is sweet, really. The man who liked to scowl at people to rile them up had a soft spot for you. It was kind that he loved you so ardently that he would break a bone for you but the whole ordeal of seeing your Ryu, your baby, in pain made you cry every time.

Part of you wished that you were the one taking the hits. But he wouldn't let you do that, you knew this too well.

Rynosuke was all about showing respect to everyone around you. He also advocated for letting people know what happened when they didn't. A man of justice, that's what he was. No one throws a punch without receiving one in return. It was so cool, so admirable, so him. It might've played a part in making you fall for him, you thought.

Your bubbles of thought were disrupted by a particular pair of eyes boring into your soul.

"Can we cuddle?" he stared at you with... you weren't quite sure what his eyes were expressing. Menace? Love? Maybe both? They sure were wide open.

"I don't know, can we?" you challenged with a smirk. "I'm not letting you get cozy until your eye's not swelling as much. I don't want to accidentally bump into you..."

"Babe, my eye's probably not black anymore! Please?"

"What if I let my little fingers crawl onto your face and-"

"Alright, alright! Definitely shouldn't touch it!" Ryu held his hands up in defence. "Can we cuddle anyway?"

He flashed you a grin. Yep, still has teeth...

Okay, he does look very cute.

With an eye roll, you slid yourself onto the mattress to lie down. Ryu was apparently so eager to cuddle that when you turned to face him, he already had his limbs splayed out, an invitation for you to curl into him, his warmth, his touch. You complied, snuggling into his chest.

"You're such a big baby." you declared with a peck to his cheek.

Ryu had the most beautiful smile on his face, eyes crinkling and teeth baring themselves to you. That smile was reserved for you.

"Only for you, my angel."