kvroomi

[kvroomi]

sakusa kiyoomi who obsessively checks the weather app every morning without fail. if there is even a hint of rain in the forecast, the first thing on his mind is making sure your bag has an umbrella packed. if it’s not rain and it’s predicted to be windy, you bet he has already got an extra jacket for you neatly folded in the backseat of your car for in case you get a little chilly.

[kvroomi]

HAPPY 1K NOTES ON THE ATSUMU FICCCC I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!! CELEBRATORY ATSUMU FIC COMING SOON!!!!!! (also a kita fic coming way sooner sorry for the inactivity i’ve been on holiday!!)

[kvroomi]

imagine spider-man!gojo and spider-woman!reader, who both work together harmoniously throughout the city as a pair of vigilantes—unaware of each other’s identities and just how prevalent they both are in one another’s lives outside of fighting crime. it’s an unconventional meeting and it’s almost sunrise. after a mission together, they’ve both stopped by the same convenience store for some food.

it’s quiet, the buzz of the fluorescent lights casting a faint glow to the packaging of the bright blue can of energy drink. the bold words are promising of enough caffeine to keep you upright for the next twelve hours. though you stand there, frozen for a moment, battling an internal debate about whether you should just skip dinner and head to bed with an empty (and hungry) stomach—or destroy it with sugar. you decide with the latter and pick up the can to drop it into your basket with a sigh. the weight of it feels much heavier in your hand than it should.

“energy blast? didn’t think you were into fine dining.”

you freeze mid-step, mentally cursing the universe for its lack of mercy. you’d like to think you’d know that voice anywhere; it wasn’t something endearing, rather your body was sent into fight or flight at even just the mention of his name.

slowly you turned to face him, and sure enough, there he was—gojo. he’s leaning against the shelf, his sunglasses (yes, he wore them even at midnight), are perched obnoxiously on his nose. they shine with the garish lighting, forcing you into a squint when your eyes catch the bright reflection.

you almost groan at the sight of his bag. it’s a war zone of sour gummies, chocolate bars, and what looked suspiciously like a can of whipped cream.

“i could say the same for you,” your voice is measured, a conscious effort to exhibit a fake, but convincing act of nonchalance. “what is that anyways? is it for dessert or are you trying to send yourself into a sugar-induced coma?”

he grinned, the kind of lopsided smile that could make angels weep—or villains run, depending on the day. “don’t knock it ‘til you try it. some of us know how to live a little.”

“suuuuure,” rolling your eyes as you reply, unconvinced. “if living means 7 different cavities for each day of the week.”

gojo chuckled, low and easy. he shifted closer. it’s a split millisecond reaction and you immediately notice his subtle limp. anyone would’ve missed it—anyone but you.

of course you did. it wasn’t much, just a tiny hesitation. but paired with the faint bruise just under his jaw, it set off a hundred silent alarms in your head.

you’d seen him like this before. maybe not to the extent of his injuries today, but something more frayed at the edges—like he’d been somewhere he shouldn’t.

“what happened there?” gojo stills for a second, confused at what you’re referring to.

you point at your jaw, mirroring the placement of his bruise.

he blinked, momentarily caught off guard before his grin widened.

"oh, this?" tapping his jaw lightly, he continued. “you wouldn't believe me if i told you."

"try me."

"i got into a fight with a revolving door," he says, straight-faced. "it was me or the glass, and well..."

you rolled your eyes. "right. because that sounds believable."

"hey, revolving doors are dangerous," he insisted. "you’re lucky you weren't there—i would've had to save you too."

"sounds like you need saving from yourself," you retort, not being able to help the small smile tugging at your lips.

with another roll your eyes, you turned back to the shelf. letting your eyes drift across the many labels of caffeinated drinks, you couldn’t help but focus on his presence looming behind you. it was always like this with gojo—relentless.

you’d met him a year ago when you started working at the same community arts center. you taught weekend workshops for kids, and gojo occasionally ran their afterschool programs—though ran was a generous term for what he did.

he wasn't the kind of coworker you'd ever expected to become friends with, though somehow, you had. maybe it was the way he always brought you coffee to meetings, even if each drink tasted more like sugar and coffee than coffee and sugar. or maybe it was how he managed to charm every kid in the building, no matter how much the kid may have disliked him in the beginning.

"late-night inspiration, huh?" he motioned toward the can in your hand.

"something like that," you sighed, avoiding his gaze by picking up another energy drink and putting it back

"what’re you working on?"

you pause, hand mid-air and debating how much to say.

"just some commissions."

"commissions," he repeated, like the word was a personal affront. "what happened to making art for fun?"

"some of us have rent to pay, gojo. who are you to talk anyway? you sign up for extra shifts just to win over the kids with pizza and candy."

gojo grinned. "that’s called strategy, sweetheart. you wouldn't understand."

you snorted, finally turning to face him. "and what's this strategy for?” you towards his basket and pick up a packet of gummies, inspecting it before tossing it back in. "new teaching method? bribery?"

"bribery's underrated," he returns with a shake of his head.

"but no, this is for me. sometimes a guy just needs sugar and carbs you know?"

you couldn't stand him half the time, but you'd also begrudgingly admitted—if only to yourself—that he was good company.

“long day?” you’re careful to keep your tone casual as you ask.

his grin doesn’t waver, and if it does you don’t notice—but his hand tightened around the basket handle. “me? nah. what about you? busy day brooding over your sketchpad?”

you smile and try to catch his eye, “something like that.”

though gojo’s gaze wasn’t on your face anymore. he’d drifted lower, catching sight of the faint rip in your jacket sleeve. you cursed inwardly; it was barely noticeable—a tiny tear at the seam where a stray shard of glass had nicked you earlier tonight. his gaze lingered like it was written in neon.

“what happened there?” his voice is light and almost lazy, but you could see the wheels turning behind his glasses.

“nothing.” you shrugged it off. “snagged it on a doorframe.”

“uh-huh.” his voice drops just enough to make the air feel warmer. “must’ve really hated that doorframe.”

you force a laugh, jaw tightening in nervousness and step past him toward the register. “not as much as i hate this conversation.”

gojo didn’t follow immediately, but you could feel his eyes on your back like a second shadow. by the time you reached the counter, he was also there, leaning against the opposite side of the aisle with his basket balanced precariously on one hand.

“funny,” he announces after a beat, his tone too casual. “you’ve got a thing for clumsy doorframes, and i’ve got a thing for evil revolving doors. guess we’re not so different, huh?”

you glanced at him in annoyance, searching his face for any crack in his mask. but there’s nothing—just that insufferable grin and sunglasses, hiding every flicker of thought behind his ridiculous confidence.

“guess not,” you breathe out, grabbing your drink and heading for the door.

“don’t stay up too late,” he calls after you, his voice dripping with amusement. “you wouldn’t want to run into any more furniture.”

you don’t turn around, and you don’t respond with another witty retort either. instead, you choose to instead flick a halfhearted wave over your shoulder. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, washing away the tension coiled in your chest.

as you rounded the corner, you allowed yourself a small smile. gojo was sharp—too sharp for his own good. but he wasn’t there yet, not tonight.

behind you and still inside the store, gojo stood frozen in place. his grin had dispersed just enough to reveal the furrow in his brow. his thumb traced absentmindedly over his basket handle as he replayed the conversation in his head.

for someone as quick on her feet as you, he knew that explanation didn’t add up. but then again, his limp and bruise wasn’t exactly subtle either.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE

[kvroomi]

OMG I JUST RANDOMLY FOUND YOUR BLONG AND IT'S SOOOO GOOD!!!! I LIKE YOUR WORKS A LOT 🫶🏻 IF YOU DON'T HAVE FANS THAN I'M DEAD

THIS IS SO FREAKING SWEET IM GONNA SEND MYSELF INTO A PSYCHOSIS OVER HOW WHOLESOME THIS ISSSSS STOPPPP 🥹🥹🥹

nothing makes me happier than finding out people actually enjoy reading my work so i appreciate this more than you will ever know!! i hope you enjoy reading everything ive put out and everything i will be putting out in the future (lots to come 😉)

[kvroomi]

hi your kuroo rain fix was so cutee! it’s been a storm where I live so can I req the storm waking yn up and they’re watching it and then kuroo wakes after or something lol.

please feel no pressure to do this and take care :)

there’s a storm whispered against the window. it’s soft and unhurried, much like a lullaby spun by the heavens themselves. you awoke before the sun had fully risen, the bedroom drowned in shades of gloomy grey. it was enveloped by a kind of quiet that begged for slow moments and held breaths. kuroo was still fast asleep beside you. his breathing was even, face relaxed with a peacefulness that almost never showed while he was awake.

it had been a busy past couple of weeks.

you slipped out of bed as gently as you could, careful not to disturb him. barefoot and cautious, you wandered to the window; it was impossible not to be drawn to the symphony outside. the rain fell in endless ribbons, sliding along the glass and tracing paths that dissolved as quickly as they formed. further beyond the sanction of your home, the world was blurred and softened, as though nature had taken a brush to the sharp edges of crisp, white paper and turned everything into watercolor.

the storm wasn’t violent. it held no presence of angry crashes of thunder or blinding streaks of lightning. rather it was tender, intimate, alive. you leaned against the windowsill, letting the coldness of the pane seep into your palm. there was always a strange comfort in the rain—in the way it seemed to fill the silence without breaking it. you were content. though it wasn’t like it was difficult to feel that way to begin with—not when it felt like the kind of morning where the world held its breath for you and only you.

the bedsheets rustled from behind. you turned slightly, just enough to see kuroo waking too. his face was still half-buried in the pillow, and his dark hair was a tousled mess—strands falling over his forehead. his eyes opened slowly, blinking against the dim light.

“couldn’t sleep?” his voice was gravelly with sleep, softer than the rain.

“just woke up early,” you turn to fully face him, leaning your back up against the window and letting the coldness of the glass press against your skin.

“the storm is beautiful,” you continued.

he pushed himself up on one elbow, his gaze finding you before flickering to the window. a small, lopsided smile grew on his face. he stretched lazily, “guess i can forgive the rain for stealing you then.”

it’s silly the way he winks at you.

chuckling under your breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pads towards you. once his arms slipped around your waist from behind, you moved forward as he rested his chin on top of your head. he watched the rain for a silent couple of minutes, while you basked in the warmth of him chasing away the cool air. together, you stood in quiet reverence, watching the rain carve its fleeting art against the glass.

“days like this feel slower,” his breath a warm brush against your skin. “like the world’s giving us permission to just… be.”

you hummed in agreement, leaning into him. there was something sacred in the quiet of it all: in the way his hands settled on your hips as if anchoring you to him and in the way the storm seemed to sing just for the two of you.

“do you think it’s like this everywhere right now?” you tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “the rain, i mean. or is it just us?”

he watched you, debating. “i think it’s cooler to think it’s just for us,” the playfulness in his voice balanced by its sincerity. “like a secret gift—a little piece of the world that belongs only here, only now.”

the storm outside felt far away. but here, you were both wrapped in something infinite and fragile. the rain continued, and you let yourself believe just for a little while, that it was meant for you.

a/n: thank you so much for the request and your kind, kind words!! i’m so glad to hear you liked the kuroo rain drabble 🙏🏻 it’s been pouring where i live as well so these past couple days have been super gloomy. stay safe!!

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE

[kvroomi]

inside, the room breathes with the patter of the storm. the windows are a canvas of watered streaks, faint rivulets tracing paths that lead nowhere. light filters dimly through the rain, and though muted and grey, it softens everything it touches.

you’re on the couch, a book half forgotten on your lap as you’ve yet to turn the page in the last half hour. across the room, kuroo sits on the floor by the window, with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. he doesn’t speak, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the rain-streaked glass. the silence between you feels purposeful—almost deliberate, as though neither of you wishes to break it without cause.

it’s him who finally speaks. his voice is quiet and steady, almost like the rain itself. “do you think there’s a word for this?”

it’s silent for a moment. you blink once in silent contemplation and tilt your head towards him, shifting your gaze from the window. “for what?”

“for this,” he’s gesturing vaguely—to the room, to the rain, and to the quiet that holds the both of you in its grasp. “this feeling… like the world’s moving, but we’re standing still.”

you let yourself think about his words—let them dance on your skin before you respond. “i think it’s called existing.”

there’s a faint smile on your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

kuroo huffs a soft laugh, the sound barely louder than the rain. “existing feels bigger than this. this feels… smaller—quieter.”

he pauses, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the floor. “kinda like waiting for something you don’t know is coming.”

you watch him for a moment, the sharp lines of his face softened by the pale light. there’s a quaint intimacy in his stillness, in the way his words seem to come not from thought but from a deeper and unspoken place.

“maybe that’s the point,” you say, your voice gentle. “maybe it’s not about what’s coming, and it’s just about being here.”

his eyes meet yours, dark and thoughtful. “you think so?”

you offer a shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “i think if we spend too much time waiting for the next thing, we miss what’s already here.”

kuroo leans his head back against the wall, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “you’re a lot wiser than i give you credit for,” he replies. the presence of the subtle hint of amusement in his tone is obvious.

“and you’re a lot more sentimental than you pretend to be,” there’s a soft smile tugging at your lips.

he laughs, the sound warm and familiar. it’s almost fascinating how just through the single sound in that moment, the room was able to feel a little lighter.

from the outside, the rain continues its quiet fall. the sound of its beat, weaving around you like a thread, tying you to this moment—this silence, this shared stillness.

rain is the most patient of visitors. it is both a presence and absence. there is something eternal about it when it carries the weight of beginnings and endings through its quiet rhythm. when it lingers in the spaces between thought and feeling and doesn’t demand attention, it is impossible to ignore. it seeps into you—slow and steady until you forget the shape of stillness without it.

neither of you speaks again, but there’s no need. the rain fills the spaces where words might fall, and the quiet between you feels less like absence and more like understanding.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE

[kvroomi]

i’m cooking…

[kvroomi]

i really like the design of your Masterlist and blog page.

Are you looking for requests or is your Masterlist more of a look into the future of what you're planning to write?

hiii!! thank you so much, your words mean so much to be you don’t even realise :-‘) ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

it’s honestly a bit of both! i am always open for requests so feel free to send them through! i like being given prompts and seeing what i can come up with! you guys can be creative too 😉 my masterlist is also definitely a look into the future of what, and who i plan to write for :) i have ideas for every single character!

that said, i will only write for the characters listed on my masterlists atm

[kvroomi]

it's 9 o'clock in the evening when atsumu barges into your bathroom while you're taking off your makeup

“hey, babe, yer phone’s charged, right?”

his voice breaks through the quiet hum of your evening, pulling your attention away from the bottle of moisturiser you'd been trying to open for the past 5 minutes. you glance up to find him leaning in the doorway. his black dress pants and light blue button-up are long gone, now replaced with a large white t-shirt and his obnoxious 'world's best setter' boxers that he must've left in the dresser you bought for him when he started staying over more often.

“yeah, why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

he holds up his phone with an exaggerated sigh, the screen dark. “mine’s dead." he sighs and you look at him confused.

"i was gonna call ‘samu—messaged me somethin’ about the shop. think he forgot to order noodles or… or whatever. can i borrow yours for a sec?”

you furrow your eyebrows, skepticism creeping in. atsumu wasn’t exactly known for prioritizing osamu’s last-minute “emergencies” unless they directly concerned him. “can’t you just use the landline?”

“the landline?” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“what am i, a fossil?" you turn your gaze back to the mirror with a roll of your eyes.

"c’mon, babe, it’ll only take a minute. please?”

you stare at him and he stares back, the two of you locking eyes in a silent standoff. atsumu, for all his dramatics, was never great at hiding when he was up to something.

alas, as much as you wanted to pry, you also didn’t have the energy to argue over something so trivial when it was so late into the day.

“okay,” you breathe out, followed by a long sigh as you hand your phone over.

“just don’t mess with anything.” your eyes narrow threateningly.

“mess with things? me?” he shakes his head around, feigning shock. “never. yer phone’s in the safest hands imaginable.”

that already should’ve been your second red flag—though before you can even question him, he's got his back turned halfway out the door yelling “thanks, babe! yer the best!” over his shoulder.

a brief fifteen minutes have passed, which you only vaguely realise in the haze of beginning your book. you're comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch when he strolls into the living room. plopping your phone onto the cushions beside you and pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head—he pokes your cheek.

“yer a lifesaver,” he says with a grin, flopping down beside you. “what would i do without ya?”

you offer him a glance, “what did osamu need?”

“huh?” you notice his grin falter. it's a split millisecond, but he's quick to cover it with a casual wave of his hand. “oh, somethin’ about… rice.”

you squint at him, trying to read his face. “i thought you said noodles earlier?”

“rice, noodles—same difference,” he says, getting up and walking over to the fridge to pull it open. “food stuff... y’know how he is.”

you let out a hum, satisfied with his answer. and just like that, the moment passes. your attention is drawn back to your book while atsumu rifles through leftovers.

it isn't until later that night when you're climbing into bed and reaching for your phone to set your alarm that you notice. the screen lights up, and instead of your usual photo of cherry blossoms, you're greeted by him—a photo of atsumu.

and it's not just any photo of atsumu, though. this one was pure chaos.

his entire face filled the frame, nose slightly scrunched, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and his golden-brown eyes wide with faux innocence. his lips were puckered in an over-the-top kissy face. across the bottom of the image in bright, white text were the words: “miss me yet, babe? ;)”

your jaw drops.

“what the—?” you're immediately sitting up and unlocking your phone, going straight into your photo gallery. what you find only makes your disbelief grow, (and maybe your heart too, out of fondness).

the first photo was relatively tame: a selfie of atsumu sprawled out on the couch with his head sitting in his hand with a cheeky and flirty smile. of course, you think.

the second was him in the doorway of the living room with his finger pressed to his lips in a "shh" gesture while you sat on the couch, engrossed in your book.

and then things get progressively more ridiculous, (assuming that's even possible).

there's a close-up of atsumu holding up your favorite snack with an inflated, brash grin, almost as if he was offering it to you. the caption reads: “this one's for you, babe."

another captured him perched on your desk chair, holding your pencil like it was a quill. his nose is scrunched again, an attempt to portray his concentration as he pretends to scribble something brilliant.

it's the final photo that stops you in your tracks.

it's atsumu stood on the balcony, wrapped in your favorite blanket like a superhero while his arm stretched dramatically toward the sky. the caption read: “protector of this household and defender of snacks ;)”

you stare at the screen in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. quite frankly, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to laugh or cry.

atsumu was many things: he was ridiculous, he was almost always over the top, and he was also occasionally the most infuriating person you’d ever met. but, there was one thing for certain—he was undeniably, wholeheartedly yours.

many people don't understand him the way you do. atsumu hadn’t just messed with your phone for the sake of it—he’d left you a trail of love notes that were neatly tucked behind each photo’s absurdity. it was his way of saying "i’m here, even when i’m not," without actually saying the words verbally.

and it worked.

you didn’t text him right away. instead, you curled under the blankets, scrolling through the photos again and again. your heart swelled with every outlandish caption, every childish expression, every trace of him.

eventually, you couldn’t help yourself.

you: you’re a menace.

his reply was almost instant: atsumu: a menace with a pretty face, though. miss ya, babe x

you beamed, your thumb hovering over the lock screen settings, conflicted between whether or not you should switch back the photo. though how could you? not when you already knew tomorrow would bring another excuse for him to check your phone again, just to see if you’d kept it.

so you decide to leave it—his face on your lock screen as a proud display of the world’s most unconventional love letter.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[kvroomi]

artist!reader and skater!suna who you first meet in college one morning when you’re running late for class, carrying a comedically large portfolio across the campus square. your head is buried deep in your phone, checking for last-minute updates on the class. that’s when an abrupt gust of wind shoots across your face and forces your head up instantly, only to see a skater soaring past with hardly an inch of space between you. 

“what the hell, watch it!” you yell, immediately stepping backward and using both hands to grasp your portfolio tightly. 

the skater remains undisrupted, gazing forward and only casually waving a hand back to call, “my bad!” 

artist!reader with skater!suna who you see again, a week after almost knocking you over. coincidentally enough, he's sat at the exit steps to the art building, tying his shoelaces with his skateboard next to him.

"fucking prick." you walk straight past, muttering under your breath.

he must have heard you because, within seconds, he's walking by your side. "no way! you're the girl from last week. don't tell me you're still mad about the other morning! it was an accident." he throws his hands up in disbelief.

you ignore him and continue walking.

artist!reader with skater!suna who is determined to befriend you after your brief interaction. he waits at the same steps of the art building until your classes finish, skating up to you when he spots your familiar figure. he attempts to strike up a conversation by commenting on how "serious" you always look, and it's then that you bite back with a witty retort and he grins.

"took you long enough to talk to me."

artist!reader and skater!suna who both hang out at the skatepark together one afternoon. you're practicing your motion sketches, discreetly observing suna skate and using him as a reference for your drawings. 

suna walks over to you, leaning on his board. “whatcha drawing, picasso?”

“you,” you say without looking up. his heart skips and he can feel his face grow warm.

“oh yeah?” he peers over your shoulder. “do i look cool?”

“you’d look cooler if you didn’t wipe out every five minutes,” you deadpan, flipping to another page.

“alright, picasso,” he says, with a roll of his eyes. “let’s see you try then.”

and that’s how you find yourself on top of suna’s skateboard, gripping his shoulders for dear life.

“relax, you’ll be fine,” he says, holding your hands to steady you.

“easy for you to say,” you grumble, eyes wide as he starts to slowly push the board.

you don’t even make it five feet before you’re losing your balance and falling. suna doubles over laughing, pulling out his phone with a sinister grin. “hold still, i need a picture of this for the archives.”

“don’t you dare,” you warn, scrambling to your feet. but it’s too late—he’s already posting it on his story with the caption: skating > art

artist!reader who gives skater!suna the nickname deckhead, after a particularly grueling painting session. 

“can you please just focus for once?” standing up from your desk and tossing your paintbrush aside, you continue angrily. “i’m trying to get this done, and you’re just—”

“distracting?” suna interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “you’re the one acting like the world’s ending because you can’t paint a perfect line.”

there’s a sharp jab of irritation. "it’s not just about the line! i’ve been working nonstop on this, and all you’re doing is—"

he cuts you off again, this time with a half-smile. “i know, i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. but the words slip out before you can stop them. “god, you’re such a dickhead.”

the moment it slips past your lips, you feel the tension rise in the room. it’s silent but as if the universe had a sense of humor, you glare at his skateboard propped against the wall.

“no.” you scoff, shaking your head, your frustration turning into something more mocking. “you’re not even a real dickhead, you’re just a… deckhead.”

suna blinks, frozen for a second. “deckhead?”

you cross your arms, mouth curling into a sinister grin. “yeah, a deckhead—wandering around with that stupid board like it’s your whole personality. you just can’t be serious about anything!”

a beat.

and then he laughs. suna laughs. he laughs so hard that tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. he laughs so hard that you begin laughing too. 

suna sighs slowly, dropping his gaze to meet yours. “i didn’t realize you were genuinely getting upset. i promise i didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

you let your head rest against your desk. “i know. i’m just frustrated because i’ve been at this for hours and it feels like i’m getting nowhere.” 

there’s a long pause before suna steps closer. “i’ll stop being a deckhead.” 

he grins and ruffles your hair. “... but only because i care.”

artist!reader who invites an incredibly eager skater!suna to one of your artsy gallery showcases. he surprises you by showing up in an actual button-down instead of his usual baggy jeans and shirts, bringing along his skater friends who also happen to be equally fond of you. upon seeing your work, they all begin hyping you up loudly, drawing eyes from surrounding exhibitions and sticking out like sore thumbs.

at one point suna leans in and whispers, "i'm pretty sure that guy over there is trying to steal your vibe."

confused, you turn to see a very serious art critic examining your painting and it takes all your effort to not burst out laughing.

skater!suna who shows up unannounced at artist!reader's studio with a blank skate deck and a set of paint markers.

"what's going on?" you'd just woken up from a nap and suna thought you looked absolutely adorable.

"empty canvas," he breathlessly replies, distracted by his newfound urge to just shrink you and keep you in his pocket. "i thought you could make it cooler." 

and he’s right because you do. 

“dude, where’d you get that?” atsumu asks, pointing at the board the next time suna is at the skatepark. 

“custom-made by that genius over there,” and suna proudly nods towards you, sat on the concrete of the park and deeply concentrated on a sketch.

artist!reader and skater!suna begin dating not through a grand confession, but just a subtle shift.

it happens when suna walks you to your class, a daily ritual that you've both become accustomed to, so it's almost instinctual the way he leans down and leaves a soft kiss on your cheek. you both pause, realizing what just happened, but instead of freaking out, you're clutching onto one another from outside your classroom laughing.

from then on, there's no formal conversation about it--just a mutual understanding. 

skater!suna who asks artist!reader to paint his nails black for him because he saw someone at the skate park with painted nails and thought they looked cool. you nod excitedly and oblige. by the end, suna’s nails are decorated perfectly in black, except for his ring finger which you sneakily managed to paint pink. 

when he notices, he glares at you, “really?”

“you wear it well,” you shrug in response.

artist!reader who stumbles across a notebook in skater!suna’s backpack when he asks you to grab his phone for him. you’re curious and can’t help but flip through it to find… doodles? 

you bring it back for him, his phone long forgotten. “are these supposed to be me?” 

“woah, what the fuck! where’d you find this?!” suna snatches the notebook, immediately shutting it closed before offering you a sheepish grin. “art is hard, okay? not all of us are picasso reincarnated.”

you’re flattered he’s been doodling you in his spare time. 

skater!suna who gets oddly competitive when other skaters are present at the skate park while you’re there. he pulls off more tricks than usual (which is already a lot because he’s always trying to impress you), but looks for your approval after every single one. 

he may have gotten a little too carried away because the next second he’s slipping from his board and now he’s landed flat on his back. he groans, embarrassed while you laugh. he watches you from the ground and wonders if he should make a fool of himself more often just to hear you laugh. he doesn’t let this show and instead rolls his eyes, getting up from the ground. 

“glad you’re entertained, y/n.”

skater!suna who loves to blast his music when practicing tricks vs. artist!reader who needs the quiet to focus. 

“riiiiin! can you turn it down, please? i’m trying to concentrate.” you yell at him.

“i’m literally landing this trick for you.” he replies teasingly, turning the music up even louder. 

you end up compromising with a pair of suna’s noise-cancelling headphones and he begrudgingly lowers the volume—slightly.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[kvroomi]

thinking about bf!kuroo who insists you start your mornings off by picking a random word and seeing who can weave it into the most conversations throughout the day. winner gets bragging rights, obviously.

which leads you to your current position: standing in a coffee shop while kuroo taps his foot, plotting. today’s word of the day is perpendicular. there’s a smirk on his lips so strong he has his entire face twisted to look in the opposite direction so you don’t notice. alas, it doesn’t work.

“what are you planning?” your eyes narrow as you look up at him.

“relax, babe.” he bumps his hip into yours, playfully as your eyebrows furrow and your frown deepens. he continues,

“just making life more interesting,” and winks at you, before resting an arm around your shoulders.

when it’s finally your turn to order, the cashier greets you with friendly smile and politely asks what you’d like to get. before you can even think to open your mouth, kuroo steps in.

“hey there!” he says, far too loud and enthusiastic for 9am on a sunday.

“i was just admiring how perfectly perpendicular this counter is to the floor.” he rubs at the front of the marbled table, even going as far as to step backwards and act like he was admiring the ground. oh my god you think.

“very impressive craftsmanship.”

the cashier blinks confused and you have to bite your lip to avoid cussing him out (it was actually to stop yourself from laughing but you’d never tell kuroo that), as he continues to double down.

“it’s not every day you see such a perpendicular set up! must make the coffee taste better, huh?” he adds with a dramatic nod as if he’d just uncovered something groundbreaking.

the cashier looks from him to you, unsure whether it was a weird joke the two of you were trying to play, or if kuroo genuinely was just passionate about counters.

“uh… probably?” they say hesitantly.

you roll your eyes but you can’t fight off the smile that slowly begins to make its way to your face. you cut in, suddenly feeling bad for subjecting the cashier to kuroo’s jokes so early in the morning and order

“we’ll just get 1 large vanilla iced americano with a dash of oat milk, and a large oat milk mocha to takeaway, please.”

you watch the cashier nod and kuroo walks up to pay.

as you walk away from the counter, you whip your head towards kuroo’s as you both burst into immediate laughter.

“stop tormenting the workers!” you manage to choke out.

he grins, very clearly pleased with himself and leans toward you. “i’m just living up to the word of the day. don’t hate the game, babe.”

you hear your coffee order get called and you drag him up to collect it.

he holds the door for you as you leave and you can’t help the soft smile that lingers as you comment with a shake of your head, “you’re the biggest dork i’ve ever met.”

and, of course, kuroo responds with a boisterous laugh: “yeah, but i’m your dork.”

there’s a beat before he’s laughing to himself again,

“perpendicularly yours.”

[kvroomi]

hi…….. you can totally ignore this :3

when you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers ☆

(also…… could i perhaps…… @ you in tag games….)

OMG HIIIII i love music!!!! i am a music fiend so you’ve chosen the right person i am about to put you guys ONNNN 😛😛😛

5 songs in my current rotation are:

come on (you know i’m a fool) - mk.gee

stay home - american football

when i’m thinking about you - the sundays

minetta creek - blood orange

galapogos - the smashing pumpkins

i <3 music sm!! ugh i feel so pretentious rn…

i would tag 10 more followers but i fear i am too quiet of a blog to do that so i’ll tag @frootloopscos !!! :33

OMG YES ANDNPLSSSSS INCLUDE ME IN @ GAMES ID LOVE THAT SM 🥹🥹

[kvroomi]

It was the small things Kuroo Tetsurou did for you.

Sometimes, he would wait for your ubers with you when the both of you had one too many drinks with your friends. Once said uber arrived, he'd casually open the door for you as if it were natural and ask you to text him once you got home.

Other times, he would lean over and ask if you were still having a good time when you got particularly quiet even when everyone else was still just as rambunctious as usual.

But he never crossed a line. He never really touched you unless it was a friendly greeting or goodbye hug. And he never once showed you more or less attention than anyone else in your mutual friend group.

So you shoved this little crush down to the deepest recesses of your heart and suppressed it each time it desperately tried to crawl it's way back up.

And everytime Kuroo showed you even the smallest sign of affection or consideration, you protected your heart by constantly telling yourself you were delusional, and risking a good friendship for these feelings would just be pointless.

So how did you end up here? Drunk crying in front of him after the rest of your friends have already left the bar?

"I like him a lot," you slurred your words. Kuroo sat next to you, his cheek rested against his palm with his elbow propped up against the bar. If you weren't so inebriated, you'd notice how painfully sober he looked.

"Oh really?"

He sounded amused, cat like eyes observing you. You had your face buried in your hands, your practically fully hunched over the bar.

"Mmm...but I really can't tell if I mean anything to him," you groaned into your palms before resting them flat against the bar. Your head lolled back as you leaned backwards, closing your eyes.

Kuroo's arm extended out quickly to stretch across your lower back, catching you before you fell off your barstool. You leaned against his arm, allowing him to hold your weight, and giggled quietly.

"Hey--"

"Do you think I should tell him?"

You turned to him, hand coming up to rest boldly on his knee--more in an attempt to steady yourself rather than to flirt. Your eyes were half lidded, wet tears stuck to your lashes. He resisted the urge to grab a napkin to wipe them away.

"I think--"

"No," you placed your index finger over his lips before he could speak any further, but you barely registered the shock on his face and the pink warming his cheeks. "You're right, I should just keep it to myself."

He swatted your hand away despite your whine.

"I think you should just tell him tomorrow. If you're crying this much over it now, it's clearly weighing on you. Might as well rip the bandaid off."

"Stop being sensible," you grumbled, eyes practically closed at this point. "You're always sensible."

"If I was as sensible as you say, I would've made you leave with everyone else," he mused.

"Oh, so I'm special to you?" you giggled and reached forward to cup his cheeks. Kuroo's eyes widened, lips parting to speak, but you cut him off before he could say anything in protest. "Then, lemme say this..."

Your thumbs brushed over his warm cheeks, and your lips curved up into a dopey, drunk grin.

"I like you, Tetsurou."

There was a beat of silence as his dark eyes scanned over your expression. Your half lidded eyes, cheeks red from your tears earlier, your swollen lips pulled up into that silly grin.

"...I know," he whispered, fingers reaching up to rest over your own, still holding his face. "Can you tell me again when you're sober?"

"No," you pulled your hands away so you could wag your index finger in his face. The motion made him lean back in his stool just slightly. "I don't wanna, m'gonna forget about all this anyway--"

Kuroo took your hand into his own, gently brushing his lips over your knuckles. The movement was small and filled with affection. If you had drank any less than what you did, it may have sobered you up instantly.

"I'll call you tomorrow morning, and you're going to tell me again. I won't let you forget."

His fingers laced with your own, and you hummed quietly, as if contemplating the idea.

"...m'kay."

You'd definitely have more than just the hangover to regret in the morning.

[kvroomi]

right person, wrong address!

two. usb pet rock and christmas ornaments

full masterlist || prev || next

- y/n has an annual tradition of buying AT LEAST one bizarre holiday decoration. the ornaments were supposed to be her “classy” choice 😬😬

- bokuto keeps insisting the glitter from the ornaments is a “biohazard” and that kuroo needs to deep clean his entire apartment before he comes over again.

- oikawa believes opening a package that doesn’t belong to you “spiritually binds you to it.” he thinks y/n is stuck with the rock forever spiritually, even if it’s physically with kuroo right now.

- kenma was inspired by your glittery ornaments and now has planned a ‘christmas special’ yt video with all his friends to make sparkly and fun holiday decorations together 🥹

author note: sorry about the minor error in one of bokuto’s texts, just ignore it!! lots of reading this chapter :PP

TAGLIST: OPEN

@wyrcan @kukkurookkoo @nnnyxie @gigiiiiislife @lees-chaotic-brain @wakashudou @usbrous @frootloopscos @bubybubsters @bnhabadass @qardasngan @saintcosette @brilliantshoyo @rriwyu @weezerbby @mdmraz @noyaistall

all reblogs and likes are appreciated!

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[kvroomi]

🏀 buzzer beater

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

content: 45.8k words. complete. fem!reader. warnings preceding each chapter. mild angst, lowkey enemies to lovers but not really, solid amount of fluff. implied sexual content. language. aged up characters. fake nba teams. written by someone who knows nothing at all about basketball.

directory one // two // three // four // five // six // seven // eight // nine // ten // eleven // twelve.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

[kvroomi]

May i request megumi headcanons or drabble about him having a pet shop? Have a nice day

in good company

author note: I DIDNT REALISE I HAD THIS SITTING IN MY INBOX IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET AROUND TO!! this started becoming a little too self indulgent but i hope you enjoy it anyways! :)

☆ pairing: petshopowner! megumi x fem!customer! reader

☆ word count: ~1.6k (got carried away,, whoops!)

Megumi believes he's lost 10 years of his life span since beginning this shift.

The entire place is bustling; voices are overlapping and the faint music he plays every morning over the speakers can no longer be heard as more customers pile in. Suffering from the worst migraine, Megumi thinks he can feel himself begin to grow two heads as he tries to simultaneously watch over the two young children playing around with the newly rescued cat and the old lady who’s poking her finger inside the cage of parrots. He notices her scolding them for being too loud and he lets out a deep sigh as she grows even angrier when they spit her complaints back verbatim, mockingly.

The "NO YELLING" sign attached to the cage that’s only inches from the old woman's face (who ironically is currently yelling), is written in glaring red marker. It stares back at him and for a second he thinks that if it grew a face and some arms, it'd start pointing and laughing at him. The boy’s hand drags down his face as he groans at the thought.

To anyone else, they'd think the sign was written to warn the customers not to disturb the birds. But Megumi knows he wrote it for the parrots, sternly telling them to "keep it down," as he taped the sign onto the cage.

He knows they can't read and deep down he knows they don't even understand half of what he mutters to them—but if parrots could talk and respond to even just some of his conversation, then what was stopping them from learning how to read and comprehend a single set of instructions?

He walks over to the old woman, placing a warm hand on her back and guiding her away from the squawking parrots. Once her back is turned, Megumi sends them all a dirty look: a silent message that says he'll be giving them a lecture once everyone is gone.

Bringing her up to the counter and rambling about how “the birds have been in a mood today”, he offers her a 10% discount for pet food with her next visit. She laughs as he hands her the coupon and tells him “[she'd] love to have a sweet boy like him, come over to cat-sit for [her] while [she's] away”.

Megumi smiles and tells her she's welcome to come by any time and help him schedule it, all whilst ushering her out of the store. He desperately needs one less customer to worry about.

As he shuts the door, waving goodbye to her from afar, he mentally curses out Yuuji for calling in sick at the last minute. He'll have to stop by and bring him some soup to make sure he's alive.

The thought of food reminds Megumi that the animals must be hungry. Glancing up at the time, the boy takes note of his lunch break in the next 10 minutes.

He walks around the store, informing everyone that the shop will be closing soon for the next half hour.

The place is filled with warm and friendly smiles; gentle biddings of farewell fill the air. Despite the comforting atmosphere, Megumi has to hold back from grimacing through each entire interaction from how awfully his feet ache.

Thankfully and slowly, he watches as people collect their belongings. He listens patiently for the ring of the bell above the door.

There are still a handful of customers wandering around and collecting last-minute items so he watches from the counter—waiting. Shaking out his arms, he moves to crane his neck over on either side, pausing once he feels the familiar popping sensation of his muscles relaxing.

It’s sudden, and his stretching is halted when he notices. His arms have stopped high in the air. His heart plunges and it’s an immediate swell of anxiety that consumes him.

2 ferrets: Rose and Violet–both of whom are starkly distinct in colour when in comparison to their third companion who is banded with brown fur accompanying their own completely white appearance.

This also happens to be the same third companion missing from the cage. The black-haired boy winces and a deep line forms across his eyebrows—his face hauled into a tight scowl.

Always trust Lily to be wandering off on her own in the worst circumstances.

After spending the entire morning brisk on his feet and repeating the same "how to care for your new pet" conversation over and over again, Megumi was starting to think that closing the shop a couple of hours early and dealing with getting into trouble would be worth it.

How many more times will he have to clarify that, “No, these fish can not survive in a fishbowl,” or that “No, you will not find any pets here that don’t require any effort.” The three hours of sleep he had been functioning off of was ultimately starting to deplete and now on top of everything, he had an escape-artist-ferret he needed to locate.

Oh, the pleasures of working in a pet shop.

Imagine his surprise when he's hauled from his thoughts by the hasty clatter of cans and a foreign shriek, rushing over to the pet food aisle to discover you—frozen in place with Lily attached to the bottom of your pants, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

All prior apprehensions about whether or not Megumi was going to make it out of the shift alive had instantly vanished, and he found himself standing clueless in the middle of the aisle. He’s uncertain of how to approach you because ‘holy shit’, you were just so pretty.

Had you been in the shop the entire time?

All you planned to do today was drop by your local pet store and pick up a couple of packs of treats for your cat Winston. What you didn’t plan to do, was get jumped by a brown and white ferret that flew straight for your face while reaching for a can of cat food.

A soft “ahem” entices you to turn around.

It's brief, but you lock eyes with his own and Megumi swears he can feel his legs buckle from underneath him. He reminds himself that he’s probably just exhausted, shoving down any other ideas that it could be because of you.

“I’m so sorry about her.”

He’s the first to speak, and though his voice may have cracked mid-sentence and he can feel how coarse his throat is getting from the nerves—Megumi hopes that the gentle smile he offers is enough to distract you from it.

And it is, because currently all your thoughts are occupied with how you believe his smile alone could heal every bad day you’ve ever had in this lifetime. You want to tattoo the inside of your eyelids with a picture of his smile, just so you could see it even with your eyes closed and in your dreams. But you couldn’t possibly say that to him, so you settle for the next best line of dialogue.

“I didn’t realise I was a hit with the ferrets.”

Your comment makes Megumi laugh, and he thinks it’s his first, honest laugh since he started work this morning.

“She’s usually quite picky.”

He’s closer now, and your eyes watch as he squats down. His hands are soft and gentle as he attempts to guide Lily off your pants and into his open palms.

Your gaze wanders and you take note of his many rough calluses and lingering scratches that line his fingers, evidence of the hard work and pieces of him that are so beautifully human. Your voice catches in your throat, desperate to uncover the many anecdotes he holds—desperate for your own piece of his humanness. It’s the second time that you are forced to say something else on your mind.

“It seems she’s quite persistent too.”

Megumi lets his eyes trail upwards with a soft chuckle as the small ferret climbs up your leg and then your back, choosing to nestle herself in the deep crevice of the side of your neck. Even though you know Megumi is probably more concentrated on the ferret than what you looked like in the current second, you can’t help the anxious thoughts that run rapidly though your head when you notice his vision follow along the edges of your face.

Did you put on enough lip balm today? Your lips weren’t dry right now were they?

It took a lot of mental strength to not unconsciously bring your hand up to check your lips. Instead, you chose to purse them tightly to hide the awkward smile developing at Megumi’s next sentence.

“I’d go as far as to say she has good taste.”

And that’s when you can feel your breath stop. The isle feels constricting and hot, and the sudden appearance of sweat in your palms makes your mouth feel dry.

His tall figure is standing back up and moving towards the cans that were knocked over seconds earlier—tender hands aiding them to stand back up. He was avoiding eye contact.

Your silence makes Megumi’s stomach churn uncomfortably and he’s already turning his head around, mouth halfway open and ready to apologise when you let out a louder-than-intended and impulsive “thank you.”

It’s cute how bashful you both are, faces avoiding one another and warm smiles yearning to be exchanged.

It’s you who decides to break the pause in the moment. Though upon realising what you had just said, it almost sends you into a psychosis on the spot.

“I guess her and I have that in common.”

This time, it’s Megumi whose gaze snaps towards yours in an instant, a bright grin decorating his face alongside a soft pink hue that was slowly forming across his cheeks.

He thinks he may have just gained back the 10 years he lost earlier.

AUTHOR NOTE: just a little something to keep you all at bay while i work on ‘right person, wrong address’ enjoy! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

all reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[kvroomi]

right person, wrong address!

one. mornings at the apartment complex

full masterlist || prev || next

- the first time matsukawa ever experienced sleep eating, he didn’t even realise he did it. he just woke up with food crumbs all over his bed and a half eaten mcdonald’s big mac on his bedside table. he blamed hanamaki for an entire week 😵‍💫

- for 10 minutes at dinner last night, oikawa and y/n just watched matsukawa shove his face with food in silence 😭

- when akaashi reached kuroo that morning, he was laid out on the concrete in a ‘saddam-hussein-hiding-spot’ position with his eyes closed muttering affirmations to himself.

- when kenma received the video of kuroo dropping the sewer gate on himself, he posted it on every platform possible, going as far as making remixes of songs to kuroo’s yelping in the background (iykyk)

author note: Y/N AND KUROO PACKAGE UNBOXING NEXT CHAPTER WOOHOO ‼️‼️‼️‼️

TAGLIST: OPEN

@wyrcan @kukkurookkoo @nnnyxie @gumims @gigiiiiislife @lees-chaotic-brain @wakashudou

all reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.