#tetsurou kurou x reader

[shouyuus]

colorimetery

kuroo; 1,843 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", abuse of extended metaphors, none of this makes sense, kenma is the most in-touch person in this entire fic and that should tell you something, awk!kuroo, whipped!kuroo

summary: in which kuroo is down bad for you and nothing much else happens

a/n: @seiwas this is for u! u asked for kuroo and i humbly deliver :) hope u liked it bby; fun fact, a lot of these colors are pulled from the gamblin oil paints website bc i love their paints and also i love the thought that a lot of pigments were poisonous way back when and ppl were just... casually poisoning themselves while making their art; there's a metaphor in there somewhere... but i'll leave that up to interpretation lol

─── 鉄朗 THERE ARE COLORS he doesn’t know the names for, just like there are birds who will sing songs that no human will ever understand, but somewhere between the viridian of a sun-lit forest and the minor trill of a mockingbird’s call, he finds the shape of you.

and he doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started feeling like this, only that he’d woken up one day to a pastel sky, heard the tell-tale blip of a message from you, and felt his entire body flush vermillion, hard enough to poison.

c’mon, bedhead. time for school.

he grins down at the message, his lips pulling wide, his fingers still blunted by his honeyed dreams (how many of you? don’t ask him — he’s long since lost count) as he types out a reply.

be there in three.

he stumbles out of bed in the raw sienna sunrise, pulling on his uniform pants, shoving the hems of his un-ironed white shirt into the waistband before dashing out the door. he finds you haloed in liquid gold, standing on his doorstep, flicking through your phone before you notice him and your face breaks into an earth-rending smile.

kuroo feels dizzy, punchdrunk, a sake-shot of fire sizzling down his front till it pools in the base of his belly as he pulls on his shoes and tries to hide behind a well-timed cough.

“c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he brushes passed you, but not before reaching out to ruffle at your hair, savoring in the midnight-soft of your tresses as it slips through his fingers.

you bicker the entire way to school, picking up kenma somewhere along the way. he casts you both a tired, reproachful look before slouching off ahead of you, content to resume whatever game he’s currently hyperfixating on while you and kuroo snipe at each other a few steps behind him.

“you could just ask her out,” kenma says during free period, his eyes never leaving his phone screen as he mashes at the attack button, watching the health bar of the boss monster dwindle even as kuroo makes an indignant sort of choking noise.

“w-what? she’s just — she’s just a friend.”

but at the scathing look kenma darts his way, kuroo finally relents.

“i — we’ve been friends for so long i just… i don’t wanna fuck it up, y’know?” he cards a hand through his already mussed up hair, eliciting a string of giggles from a cluster of girls sitting behind them, heads bent in towards one another, their long hair swishing like willow branches in a mid-autumn breeze; but neither of them take notice.

kenma heaves a world-weary sigh, grimacing as a large WIN!! image flashes across the face of his phone and he slumps back to frown at kuroo.

“i feel like you’ve built up enough affection points to unlock whatever good ending she’s got for you by now, so,” he pins kuroo with a pointed look, “i don’t think she’s gonna say no.”

kuroo can only blink, his mind churning around this strange yet apt analogy.

“aw man, you’re the best, y’know that?” he laughs, reaching over to catch kenma in a headlock, digging his knuckles into the crown of kenma’s head even as he struggles fruitlessly to get free.

it is in the cadium orange glow of sunset, after your art class and his volleyball practice, that kuroo finally works up the courage —

“hey uh — can i ask you something?”

you hike an eyebrow, a dangerous grin sharpening the shape of your lips.

“didn’t you just?”

kuroo lets out a frustrated sigh, “fuck you, you know what i meant.”

you laugh, the timber of it ringing through him like church bells on a sunday morning, and suddenly, he wonders if this feeling might be what inspired the ancients to worship at the feet of so much divinity — just this, the giddiness and anticipation, the knowledge and uncertainty. this, the insurmountable weight of something (call it love or infatuation, he doesn’t care) pressing down on his chest hard enough to rob him of every last breath.

he think that perhaps this is all anyone’s ever needed to start believing in magic.

“okay, okay,” you say, stifling a grin behind pink-pursed lips, “what did you wanna ask?”

“go out with me,” kuroo blurts out, well before he can stop himself. and he almost wants to sink into the earth with the way his entire body goes hot, the aftermath of a tectonic shift, the pluming heat of a volcanic hiccup.

you stare up at him, your expression curiously blank as he watches you, desperate for any sign of your answer, the most minuscule tells of how you might be feeling.

finally, you cock your head and ask, “was… there a question in there somewhere?”

kuroo almost swears*. almost*.

“fuck — fine! i meant — will you —”

“yes.”

“— it’s just i’ve — wait, what?” kuroo freezes, staring down at you with slack-jawed disbelief, blinking as if he doesn’t quite understand what you’re saying.

you allow yourself a smile, and kuroo feels his insides melt to something very much like molten marshmallows.

you let out a sigh that sounds remarkably like kenma’s — exasperated and amused in equal measure — before glancing back up at him with a bashful smile.

internally, kuroo wonders if this is what being “k.o-ed” feels like and he resolves to be just a bit more merciful to all of videogame opponents.

“i said yes, you big volleyball-obsessed oaf —”

“oh,” kuroo says, still not quite sure what he’s supposed to do from here.

you roll your eyes and turn back towards the sidewalk, taking a few steps before twisting your head to look at him.

“aren’t you gonna walk me home?”

kuroo nearly trips in his eagerness to level himself with you, but once he does, he straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest.

“so —” he says, in a stab at his usual carefree bravado, “do i get to call you my girlfriend now?”

you shrug, “sure, if you want to.”

kuroo deflates ever so slightly, “what? you don’t want me to?”

you slant him a look that makes his knees turn to jelly.

“yeah, i do. but that won’t matter if you don’t, right?”

“i — i do!”

“so then…”

you turn your back on him again, though he’s sure this time he catches it — the dash of sweet magenta, swept across your lips like a kiss, or a promise.

or, the thought licks up the back of his throat, tantalizing — the promise of a kiss.

“oi.” he jogs to catch up with you, reaching out to sling an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to press his lips into the thick of your hair, breathing you in, losing himself in the familiar smell of your shampoo — green tea and apples, or something of the sort.

you laugh, and he basks in the sound.

by the time he walks you home, the street is gilded in goldenrod yellow, your shadows stretching long beneath you, the slant-wise light painting everything in an ethereal glow.

“well,” kuroo says, shoving his hands into his pockets, if only to keep them from fidgeting, because guys like him don’t get nervous. at least, not like this.

“well,” you echo, letting your voice linger over the ‘l’, letting it twist around your tongue, the sound lulling at the top of your palette till kuroo feels his stomach catch.

“see you tomorrow?” he asks, cursing himself internally for sounding so uncertain. since when has he been so uncertain?

your lips twist into a tease, just a fish-tail flicker, and kuroo knows he’s done for.

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” you ask, just as he opens his mouth.

“unless you don’t —” his voice jerks into an abortive breath.

somewhere behind him, a raven fluffs out it’s feathers on the low-cut wall that separates your house from the rest of the street. a single black feathers flutters to the ground, dark as an oil spill.

“unless i don’t what?” you ask.

kuroo swallows around his thundering heartbeat, feeling the last dregs of sunlight seep from the far horizon.

“i was gonna say… unless you — you didn’t wanna say goodbye,” he admits, his eyes flicking away from your face if only to give himself a momentary reprieve from the intensity of your gaze.

you purse your lips, shrugging up a shoulder, a single lock of hair slipping from its place behind your ear.

“i never do. c’mon — or else they’ll start eating without us.”

kuroo is speechless as he watches you make your way up the shallow steps to your door, glancing over your shoulder towards him. he doesn’t know how many times he’s stayed over for dinner, how many times he’d lingered in the perfumed warmth of your room while you showered, flipping absently through the latest volume of jump, how many times you’d fallen asleep with your damp hair slowly soaking into his school uniform.

he couldn’t count them all if he wanted to. and he doesn’t really want to.

he takes a breath and takes the front path two steps at a time, leaping up the staircase with a smirk as he skims his palm along the top of your head. you make a sound like an annoyed hamster and kuroo allows himself a laugh that bubbles up and up and up till it’s spilling over, till he pushes open your front door and is greeted with the familiar sandalwood radiance of your front hallway, the light pooling around his ankles as he toes off his shoes.

“hey,” you say, and he turns around, only to find you leaning up on tip toe to brush your lips against his.

he freezes, but you’re pulling back already, shrugging off your coat, shouldering off your school bag and shouting down the hallway to ask what’s for dinner, and to say that kuroo’s here.

kuroo finds himself caught in the sharp cerulean blue of your laughter like the rain-washed sky, the smoke-ridden darkness in the shades of your eyes, he turns to see you blushing, even as you motion for him to follow you into the dining room. he does, only tripping over himself once (though he’s been feeling wobbly since this afternoon, when he’d resolved to ask you out in the first place).

and he tells himself that, yes, there will always be colors he doesn’t know the names of, bird songs he will never be able to understand. but colors, he can learn. and as for the birds — well, he figures that they’re all probably singing about falling in love anyway.

TAGLIST: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @dira333 @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @encrytpta @simpingdailyforthem @ryescapades -- join the taglist!

[pixelwisp-archive]

Circles - Kuroo x Reader

Happy Birthday @larkspyrr​♡ 

Note: since this is a gift for Lark, the reader is coded to essentially look/be more like her. so I’m sorry in advance that it might not be considered gender neutral/be relatable, but majority of my other works are gender neutral!  

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

wc: 1.1k

It ended - just like it began - in the library.

It ended with you, looking as radiant as the day he met you, with your hair tied up away from your face; much neater than the haphazard bun you had that Saturday morning four years ago. The sunlight filtered through the arched windows, surrounding you in the same golden halo that always had him wondering if - just maybe - you really were a gift from the gods. Kuroo felt his heart clench at the wobbly smile you gave him, and he made no effort to move away from you when you took his trembling hands into your own. 

“So,” you said.

“So,” he echoed.

“This is it,” you whispered, finally, and he wished you saying it out loud made him feel better, but the painful ache in his chest assured him that it did not, in fact, help him feel better at all. He rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand and nodded as a small, wavering hum fell past his lips.

Kuroo's thoughts wandered back to when it all began. He trudged into the library at 7:32am with a coffee in one hand, his phone in the other, and a frown settled deep onto his face. He threw his leather bag onto the table as he grumbled under his breath about how ridiculously early it was, far too early for him to even be conscious, let alone at the local library (and on a Saturday, no less). He had signed up for tutoring sessions; because while he excelled in the majority of his classes, he was - unfortunately - downright foul at poetry; and his professor told him if he wanted any chance at saving his GPA, he'd better make use of the free tutoring services the university offered - and so here he was, at 7:30am on a Saturday morning, looking as haggard as any chemistry major would, absentmindedly flicking through his copy of Poems, Poets, Poetry: An Introduction and Anthology as he anticipated your arrival. 

It was 7:43am when you burst through the doors to the library, the books in your arms piled so high it threatened to topple over if you so much as teetered a bit too far. He couldn’t see your face over the leaning tower of textbooks, but he heard you huff and curse under your breath as the doors slammed shut behind you, attracting the unwanted attention of the whopping five people that were currently in the library. He bit back a laugh and made his way over to you, offering a helping hand while you nearly buckled under the weight. You let him take a generous amount of the books out of your hands, soft gratitude tumbling from your lips as you huffed in relief. Kuroo was in the middle of saying “no problem” when the words died in his throat at the sight of you.

Kuroo was never one to believe in love at first sight, but seeing you for the first time - with your flushed face, bright eyes, unkempt bun, and adorable smile - made him understand just what Lev was talking about all the freakin’ time. 

You exchanged names, eventually numbers, and he was (probably) the worst student you ever had, because he did nothing but flirt with you the entire time; making bad science jokes, mimicking Shakespeare, crafting various little origami animals and sneaking them into your bag while you tried to explain whatever the hell iambic pentameter was (Kuroo still doesn’t know). 

It was a miracle you ever liked him back, let alone dealt with him this long. 

Kuroo had been smitten with you since day one. He cherished every time he made you smile, every time he made you laugh, even the moments where he made you cry (’lessons’, he thought, ‘so I can do better next time’). He stood by you through every rough patch, every celebration, every new opportunity. You were with him, too - celebrated with him when he finally got that teaching position at Nekoma, took care of him whenever he got a little too drunk with Bokuto, even grieved with him, during the passing of his grandfather. The two of you still make an effort to visit him with his grandmother. He hopes you know how thankful he is for that. 

“Tetsu?” Your soft voice lulls him back to the present day. He clears his throat and shoots you a comforting smile.

“Sorry, I’m here. Was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he admits. “Us.” 

Your fingers feel smooth against his. He continues to map out every line, wrinkle, and callous; committing each piece of you to memory. “I’m just gonna miss it, is all.” 

You snort - very unladylike, but very much you - and squeeze his hands. “Jesus, Tetsu, you’re acting like we’re breaking up.” 

He laughs, his thumb running over the glittering diamond that sat on your ring finger. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant I’ll miss courting you.” 

“Courting me? Is it the 1800′s?” Heat creeps up his face as he laughs along to your giggles, the sound music to his ears. Your smile brightens the room, far more than the cathedral ceilings and stained glass windows ever could.

God, he was so goddamn lucky.

You let your giggles falter as you adjust his tie, nodding in satisfaction once it was situated before bringing your hands to cup his face. He leans down, hoping to capture your lips with his one last time as his fiancé, but you press a finger to his lips and back away. 

“Hey! No kissing. We already cheated by doing a first look. People are gonna start getting antsy, so you go on. I’ll meet you down there, okay?” You press a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning away, but he reaches out for your wrist and spins you back around. 

“I love you. So, so much. You know that?” You smile.

“Promise?” He smiles then, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. 

“Promise.” You hum and take a step back, and it was only just then that Kuroo took notice of your dress. He could feel the tears prick behind his eyes as he sends one last wobbly smile your way.

You looked like a dream come true. 

The music starts, and both of your faces fall into a panic as you push him toward the door to the main room, where all your friends were waiting with baited breath. He adjusts his tux one last time, and opens the door, before hearing a hushed ‘Hey!’ from the hallway, beckoning him to look back at you one last time. 

You grin, grabbing a hold of your bouquet with one hand as you cup your mouth with the other, and whisper just loud enough for him to hear. 

“I love you too.” 

a/n: Today is Lark’s birthday and what better way to celebrate than some adorable fluff with best boy Kuroo​♡ Also, since Kuroo becoming a capitalist is a crime we’ve decided to do him the justice and pretend he became a high school chemistry teacher instead. Eat the rich.😌

This is unedited/unbeta’d because lark is my beta and this was a surprise lmao

Requests are open!