#LOVE ALL U GUYS i have the coolest friends <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[catherinerabbit]

(positive)

@systemgoblincore @froggiegreen963 @chryslus-corvega

artisthedgehog:

why-me-bc-why-not:

tinybitofhope:

a-pr0per-full-0n-gay-crisis:

urlocalsadkid-l:

mel-hyperfixates:

pinkbebasins:

weirdo09:

k-kroomie:

royallydivinelesbian:

lovelyheartclover:

localidiotvoid:

thatoneguydownthestreet:

obamas-divorced-aunt:

captain-liminal:

killersweetie:

shibainu2006:

killersweetie:

sanyu-thewitch05:

thisismisogynoir:

ribbonspice:

petitprincess1:

tranquil-slaughterhouse:

softcoffeeaddict:

drama-glob:

pastaprincess:

uwufizzarozzieuwu:

the-maddened-hatter:

kirbybooo:

kawaii-pigeon:

amber-acrylic:

nottheonlyusername:

archivefullofyoutubers:

This is the Nugget of Friendship.

It is not given lightly. Yet I give it to you.

Yes. I mean YOU.

Now shoo.

Pass on the Nugget of Friendship.

@amber-acrylic

I’VE BEEN BLESSED WITH THE FRIENDSHIP NUGGET THANK YOU MY BESTIE

@kawaii-pigeon @dogesphere @still-not-rly-sure get fuckin NUGGED

@plague-of-insomnia @punnypandemonium @lumpkinboi @kirbybooo GET NUGGED

mine is gluten free but THANKIE PIDGEY OMG QWQ

@histronic-gizmo @em0r1ck @undead–hotmess @proship-raincandy @because-i-simp @rosalynn-the-simp @the-maddened-hatter

ALL THE NUGGIES FOR YOU

I MAKE THEM DINO NUGGIES

Awwww, thanks Kirby! *nomnomnom* :D

@not-a-biscuit @garlic-the-gnome @a-walking-fandom-reference @petitprincess1 @uwufizzarozzieuwu @genderpunks @plaguedocboi *hands you each a nugget in the shape of your choice that adheres to your dietary requirements/preferences*

*gasp* a veggie nuggie? for me? Thank you!!!

*passes nuggets to @internallyscreamingdaily @janis-1987 @pastaprincess and all the rest of my followers*

I’m so blessed to get a nuggie 💕

I’ll pass it to @drama-glob and @justa-fangirl and anyone else who wants one for for it 💗

Thank you @pastaprincess​ ! I graciously accept it and consider you a friend too. ^_^ I shall pass it on to others. :)

@spyrkle4​ @itz-darktrax​ @gimme-a-thrust​ @princessanieloid​ @softcoffeeaddict​ @enbydemirainbowbigfoot​ @betlegast​ @charsawdeath​

F,,for me? 🥺

Thank you so much!! I love you prev, mwah mwah mwah <33 🫶🏻❤️

I’m passing it to @peachteakitty @tawnyowl38 @redsrune @tranquil-slaughterhouse @futuristic-fire-kitty @ohheyitsyouagain @nothing-particularly-exciting @dynamic-lover @nodesiretogrowup @catskincass @justanothermarco @ace-alien-with-anxiety @el-viento-soba-tu-cabello !! <3

Thank you, Gaz!

@petitprincess1 @firecrackerhh @cranberry086 @drowninnoodles

@ryuu-from-the-grave @spiderdiva

Thanks!!!

@amarynthian-fortress @freakxwannaxbe @vaggatha @littleimps @spiderdiva @hanekdraws @paperhats-and-evil-schemes @tableflipapocalypse @zatyrlucy @nympippi @firecrackerhh @cherry-aqua-blossom @devidaydreamer @kirbybooo @cranberry086 @sluttycrimehat @elceetheporcupine and many more because I suck with remembering names 😅

You don’t gotta do this if you don’t want to :3

Cool!

Tagging: @diana-berry @thisismisogynoir @cringelordtbh @crimson-ace @censoredface and @fabianocolucci

Well I’d be rude to not pass it on!

Hmm… how about @reesethedndencantolover @shuinami @moonwheelfly @alldramaisvalidstorytales @redheaddyke @depresseddisneyprincess @neshatriumphs @neondyke @disaster-vampire @dyke-kali @subculturewar @afrolatinozuko @sanyu-thewitch05 and @dolores-and-luisa-stan! Y’all are the best! Keep the nugget circling!

Pass it on!

@killersweetie @dysfunctionalburden @hannija @hipsterteller @thetimelordbatgirl

😫😫😫

THANKSSSSS!

@shibainu2006 @vtoriacore @vtoriacore-rbs @captain-liminal

AWWWW KILLERRRRR

@merotwst

@atcordare

@marcythehumble

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@eccedentesiast-sapphic

@v-anrouge

😚😚😚

Thank you but I dint have any friends on hERE I DONT THINK I CAN PASS IT ON ( ~0~)

@starkillerqueen @obamas-divorced-aunt

Nuggie!

@twisted-lover-boys

@demon-lover-669

@thatoneguydownthestreet

Brb I gotta go pray to the nugget 🙏

@4e7her

@mammoneythegreat I offer you a nugget @yaesxmikos you too come get your nugget

@tommy1sdead my brother, I know how much you love chickens nuggets bruh 😆 this is for you dude! ☺️💗💗💗💗💗🌸

Also for my other mutuals cuz they gotta eat right?

@royallydivinelesbian @weirdo09 @milf-percy @magicalmousey @hoolay-boobs @vixxelle @mozzyspurt @mushiemooon @dorkynerd23

THANK YOU FOR THE TAG !!

@rashadliveson @weirdo09 @autistic-prince-cinderella @bootleg-exe @coquette-club @frogs-and-similar-fucks @goldendiie @hoolay-boobs @justanisabelakinnie @k-kroomie @lil-sweet-angelangel @monislvt @sicklyslvt @thisismisogynoir @violettfae

@wlwocprincess @xzmickeyzx

YAY I GET A NUGGET

@loveme-iamadiva @weirdo09 @anachryri @kellovesatsvx3 @bugfeather @rashadliveson @xiu-mya7

aww thank you, i didn’t know i was your friend 😭

@pimplepogue @yarkayaslava @pinkbebasins @pinkpwuddin @background-character-341 @xhavibee @chilewithcarnage (if you’re fine w being tagged) @queenofthespiderverse @rashadliveson @yelenapines

MY FRIENDS!!!!

@lavender-draw @mel-hyperfixates @vilf-lover @nothingtoseeherebyeexx

@je11y-f1sh @urlocalsadkid-l

<3333

@sad-bi-girl @sharksdonotexist @a-pr0per-full-0n-gay-crisis @aj-needs-2-sleep @anxiety-lemsbian @nonbinarytrashpanda @nellysview @whatthefr0g @wantmeifyouwantme @crunchy-soup222 @butterfliesareamyth @butimwritingthisat3am @octobitheoctagonal @touloserrs @yesterdayorcenturiesbefore @thuidium-delicatulum @plutoisaplanet0 @sleepy-vix @localtorispring @mel-hyperfixates @crying-in-converse @planet-of-sleep @secretlyafrog7 @buggiessss1019

@urlocalsadkid-l

I WOULD LOVE TO BE YOUR FRIEND

@tinybitofhope @autisticnotartistic @cheezbot @catsplushellhounds @capt-jinx @drowinginmyownabyss @edenlovesheartstopper @faulty-radio

WAHHH I GET A NUG OF FRIENDSHIP!!! TYSM @a-pr0per-full-0n-gay-crisis

@heartstopper-lover123 @buggiessss1019 @readyafterthesunrise @aledradio @piney-45 and all my fucking moots bc i love uuuu

@artisthedgehog @rookisit @queerlywren

@nerdybluehairandpronouns

I LOVE YALL HAVE SOME NUGGS!!!

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG THANKS

@accidentallyaverage @caffeinated-emo-twink @nexi1066 @mem3nto-mor1 @toulouseradiosilence @riley-creates-stuff AND AND ALL OF MY MUTUALS AND ALL OF TUMBLR BECAUSE YEA

@colorful-craze @kayrielwrites @tzipor-feather-blog @rainofthetwilight @nebulaofchaosandwoe @sleepingseas0n

HAVE SOME NUGGETS!!!

[foreveia]

palentine’s day ⤨ kuroo tetsuro

⨭ genre; fluff, childhood best friends!trope, valentine’s day special!

⨭ pairing; kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 18.5k

⨭ description; kuroo suggests a “palentine’s day” when you both admit to being adults with no sense of a love life on valentine’s. that being said, obviously he becomes yours.

⨭ warnings; profanity, alcohol, suggestive dialogue

⨭ a/n; guys i made this over the course of like one day. it's literally NOT proofread at all (i am not sober rn and will do so tomorrow morning) so if ur early, deal with it. jk thank u so much for reading my bullshit on ur valentine's if ur reading this also check out 'in full bloom' aka pt 1 of my valentines gift to tumblr

edit; gave up on proofreading so if u find any mistakes. well

song i listened to writing this: 'pretty in pink' by lostboycrow

one.

JFK stands for ‘John F. Kennedy’ International Airport, but as you wait in the masses outside the pick-up zone, you can’t help thinking that it should really stand for ‘Just Fucking Kill’ yourself.

You tend to avoid the airport as much as humanly possible since TSA agents are evil and you always get lost, but today, you’re forced to be here: Kuroo’s flight lands in ten minutes, and he whined so much about the cost of an Uber to your apartment that you finally gave in and agreed to pick him up yourself.

Predictably, you’re already regretting it.

The arrivals area is a literal zoo: people standing way too close, aggressively waving handmade signs that say things like Welcome home, Papa! and Jorge & Melissa 4Ever!, and a seemingly endless stream of passengers getting on and off flights. A man in a suit shoves past you, nearly smacking you in the face with the obscenely large bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and an elderly woman parks herself directly in front of you with a luggage cart, as if she has no idea that you exist. Meanwhile, Kuroo is nowhere in sight.

Leaning back against a pillar, you sigh and clutch your coat tighter around yourself, because despite being a major international airport, JFK still hasn’t figured out how to keep the cold air from blasting in through the automatic doors. The little icon next to Kuroo’s flight says baggage claim, which means you probably have another fifteen minutes before he actually appears—maybe more, if he’s being slow (which he always is).

You pull up your messages.

(3:27 PM) y/n: hurry up tetsu: awh, miss me? 😘 y/n: keep it up and i’m leaving without u

Shoving your hands back into your coat pockets does little to restore warmth, and the irritation building in your chest isn’t helping. You should’ve just let him suffer through the Uber surge pricing. He deserves it: you’re already letting him crash at your place for the week, rent-free.

Your phone buzzes again.

(3:32 PM) tetsu: omw. don’t leave me 🥺 tetsu: remember when u were a baby and followed me everywhere?

You scoff, choosing not to dignify that text with a response.

What a bitch. It’s been years since you last saw him, ever since you moved to NYC for your PhD and he stayed in Japan to work for the JVA, but some things never change: he’s still the same guy who kept you humble your whole childhood, who was your older brother’s—and by extension, yours—sole and only friend, who was the coolest person you knew as a kid because he was in second grade and you were still a kindergartener. You grew out of it by the time you both hit middle school (though he, unfortunately, never grew out of reminding you).

And now he’s here, in your city for a full two weeks as he promotes some upcoming tournament. You guys call semi-regularly, but it really is different when he’s here in real life and in person, because you can no longer just hang up when he starts to get annoying. 

That’s when a pair of arms suddenly loop around your waist.

A startled jolt runs through you, heart seizing in your chest before the familiar scent of his overpriced department store cologne registers. Funny how smells bring back memories; he’s been using the same Armani Acqua Di Gio bottle since your undergrad years (you’re both shocked and impressed that he hasn’t finished it yet). His arms squeeze lightly, then drop away.

“Hi, babyface,” he coos, smirking.

Spinning around, you glare at him for still clinging to that dumbass childhood nickname—he overheard your parents call you that literally once, and has insisted on it ever since. He’s probably the sole person left in the world who refers to you that way, but whatever—you’ll tolerate it for two weeks.

Kuroo stands there, dragging a comically oversized suitcase behind him. Honestly, he doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him, three years ago when he and Kenma sent you off at Haneda Airport. He’s still got the same stupidly tall frame, same messy bedhead that somehow makes him look effortlessly cool instead of disheveled and gross, like it should.

But he’s older now. More… grown up. His face is leaner, more refined, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners when he smirks, as smug as always. It’s not that he’s annoyingly attractive, you tell yourself: his confidence is just so in-your-face, it’s impossible not to notice.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, crossing your arms.

He holds up a paper cup from some overpriced coffee joint inside the airport. “In my defense, I needed this. Been up since three in the morning.”

“Oh, poor you.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s just go. I’m sick of this crowd.”

“You Kozumes are all the same,” he grins, but when you turn to lead the way, he swings an arm around your shoulders with easy familiarity, guiding you through the herd of people clamoring for their reunions. The crush of bodies is suffocating—someone smacks into your elbow with a backpack, and you shoot them a dirty look. Kuroo just laughs and steers you closer to him, like he’s shielding you from a crowd of middle schoolers who haven’t learned personal space.

“Where’re you parked?” he asks, glancing around. The overhead speakers crackle as an announcement for a flight to Chicago booms through the terminal.

“Garage 4,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “It’s, like, a mile from here, so get ready to hike.”

“Sounds like fun,” he drawls. “Can’t wait.”

A scoff slips out, but the tug at the corner of your mouth betrays you—there’s something about him that makes you nostalgic for days when running around after him and your brother was your favorite activity. You guess old habits die hard; he still reaches back when you fall behind, still makes sure you’re not lost in the crowd.

When you finally reach the elevator, the two of you squeeze in with half a dozen other travelers plus an extremely disgruntled-looking airport employee. Kuroo tries to maneuver his luggage behind him without bumping everyone’s ankles, which, of course, is a losing battle.

“Sorry,” you mutter to the group while jabbing the button for the garage level.

The elevator lurches upward. From the corner of your eye, you catch Kuroo’s sideways grin.

“What’re you staring at?” you ask after a moment, realizing his gaze is fixed on you.

His lips twitch. “You. I haven’t seen you in forever, remember? Trying to see what’s changed.”

You resist the urge to smack him because this space is way too cramped for violence. “What’s changed is that I have zero tolerance for your bullshit now.”

He lets out a loud laugh, drawing a few curious glances from the other passengers that should make him feel more embarrassed than it does. “Sure, you do,” he murmurs, leaning in. “That’s why you came to pick me up, right?”

“I should’ve let you take the subway. You’re lucky I’m so kind and benevolent.”

Unfazed, he grins. “I’m very lucky,” he agrees, voice dropping an octave that sends a weird heat through your cheeks.

Thankfully, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, saving you from having to come up with a retort.

Stepping into the parking garage, the cold air slams into you instantly—JFK has no business being this miserable in February. Tucking your chin deeper into your coat, you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the wind.

Kuroo whistles low under his breath, dragging his suitcase along the pavement with a clatter. “Damn. This city really doesn’t give a shit about warmth, huh?”

“Welcome to New York,” you deadpan. “Now shut up and walk faster before I lose feeling in my fingers.”

He chuckles, shoving one hand into his coat pocket while gripping his suitcase handle with the other. You can hear the low hum of an airplane overhead, the distant honking of taxis below, the way his footsteps fall in sync with yours. It’s strange—how easily he slots back in, like no time has passed at all.

Your car is parked at the far end of the lot, tucked between an SUV and a sedan that’s way too close to the line. “There,” you say, pointing.

Kuroo groans. “You weren’t kidding about the hike.”

You ignore him, fishing your keys from your pocket as you approach the driver’s side. “Just get in, princess. Your chariot awaits.”

He snorts but doesn’t argue, tossing his suitcase into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. The moment you settle in behind the wheel, you blast the heater, letting the warmth seep back into your body. Kuroo exhales in exaggerated pleasure.

“Ah, yes,” he sighs, holding his hands up to the vents. “This is the hospitality I deserve.”

You shoot him a look as you adjust the side mirrors. “Buckle your seatbelt. I wanna go.”

“So eager to get me home already? At least buy me dinner first.”

“Get out.”

Kuroo smirks, clicking his seatbelt into place. “Not a chance—you’re stuck with me now, babyface.”

And you just sigh and kick your car into gear, promptly backing up and heading out of the maze of a parking lot, because even if you were to argue, it would be a lie. You’ve been stuck with him for almost two decades, and whether for better or for worse (definitely for worse), you don’t see that changing anytime soon.

two.

Your apartment building’s leasing office has plastered pink and red hearts on just about every open space in the hallway, so it’s safe to say that you’re slightly annoyed as you lug Kuroo’s freakishly huge suitcase to the door of your flat. The wheels squeak in protest, and you’re 99% sure you hear something clanking around inside—like maybe he’s sneaking free weights in there, or some equally ridiculous item you’re going to have to store somewhere in your already-cramped closet.

“Seriously,” you grumble, pausing to readjust your grip, “what did you pack? An entire gym? A small car? Did you kidnap Bokuto or something?”

Kuroo, trailing behind you with his coffee cup that’s somehow still not finished yet, lets out an overdramatic groan. “Oh, come on. I need my suits, my shoes, and, of course, my extremely heavy hair-care products. Gotta keep this—” he gestures at the bedhead that somehow counts as a hairstyle for him “—looking flawless for the cameras.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo replies, stepping around a giant pink heart taped to the floor. “You love me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, key in hand as you finally reach your door. Jamming the key into the lock and wriggling it furiously, you mutter, “I can’t believe I’m letting you stay with me. Your fancy JVA job couldn’t get you a hotel?”

“They could, but the Marriott doesn’t have you,” he says proudly as you drag the suitcase over the threshold and inside your apartment, propping the door open with your hip. “I’d rather stay with my darling friend in her little one-bedroom place on the Upper East Side.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again—half because you’re exhausted, half because your heart is doing that annoying stutter-step in your chest, and you really don’t want to analyze why. Instead, you drop your keys on the small side table by the door and flick on the overhead light.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, and the words come out more begrudging than you intend. Despite this, he kicks off his shoes very casually, setting his half-empty coffee on your kitchen counter and taking a quick scan of the place. Inside, your apartment is as cozy as ever—small, but comfortable, and the warmth from your radiator is a welcome contrast to the drafty hallway. You drop the suitcase in the living area, exhaling with relief.

He smirks, reaching out to flick one of the pink paper hearts taped to your kitchen cabinet. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of love.”

“The leasing office gets way too into seasonal themes. They gave us all these cut-out hearts to tape up, like we’re in grade school,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I figured it was better to play along than have them slip passive-aggressive notes under my door.”

“Ah, yes, the joys of city living,” he intones. He peels one heart off the cabinet and sticks it onto his own chest like a ridiculous badge. How appropriate.

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the right. Towels are in the cabinet.” You pause momentarily, considering. “Do you think you can fit on the couch?”

Kuroo regards the couch in question—lumpy cushions, old springs, barely big enough for someone your size—then flicks his eyes to you, expression dry as if to say obviously not. In truth, you aren’t totally surprised. He’s always been freakishly tall, and the piece of furniture doubling as your “guest bed” is basically a glorified loveseat.

“Uh,” you say, slightly distracted as you take in the way his broad shoulders fill your kitchen, “maybe if you sleep diagonally, you could?”

He gives you a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow, babyface. Thank you for that helpful geometry lesson.”

Your cheeks warm, partly in annoyance and partly because something about him looking so large in your space sets your nerves on edge. “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” you mumble. “Unless you wanna sleep standing up against the wall.”

Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly comfortable, either.”

You throw up your hands. “Then what do you expect me to do? I only have a full-sized bed in my room, and that’s barely big enough for—” You stop yourself, but it’s too late. You can practically see the grin forming on his lips.

“Oh?” He shifts his weight, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “I don’t mind sharing. We used to all the time.”

You open your mouth to retort, but no sound comes out. You can’t deny that a part of you has already considered this possibility. Sure, you’ve known him forever, but the last time you shared a bed, Kenma was also there, and you were eleven-years-old having a sleepover because you were all way too invested in Monsters, Inc.—very different from sharing a bed with him now. 

“Tetsu,” you start, forcing yourself to sound composed, “my bed is also a tight squeeze. There’s no guarantee we’ll both fit comfortably.”

Kuroo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not picky. I can do my best to take up minimal space.”

You snort. “You? Minimizing anything? Please.”

He laughs, and the rich sound echoes in your small living area. “I’m not that tall.”

“Pretty close,” you counter. “But fine.” You exhale, feeling the weight of two weeks’ worth of future awkwardness settle on your shoulders. “If you promise not to kick me in your sleep, you can share the bed.”

He smiles with infuriating smugness, like he’s won some big debate or secured a massive deal. “Noted. No kicking, no thrashing. I can be a good boy when I need to.”

At that, you turn away and take a sip of your water, because if you let yourself stare at him any longer, you’ll start overthinking everything (you already are). Like how you’re going to handle waking up next to him. Or how it’ll feel if one of you accidentally rolls over onto the other in the middle of the night. 

“Go shower. You reek,” you say instead, tersely and very much avoiding eye contact. 

Kuroo salutes you with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.” He starts unzipping his massive suitcase, rummaging around for clothes. When he locates what looks like sleepwear, he straightens and tosses them over one arm. “I’ll be quick. Don’t fall asleep before I get back.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, heart still fluttering at the reality of what you’ve just agreed to. 

You’re about to share a bed with your old friend—your insufferable old friend, who shows up with enough luggage to stock a small department store, calls you babyface, and then makes your heartbeat skip whenever he so much as looks at you a certain way.

So in other words, you think you’re probably fucked.

three.

He emerges from the bathroom a little while later, hair damp, wearing a rumpled t-shirt and basketball shorts that show off way too much of his long legs. You pretend you don’t notice. In the meantime, you’ve perched on the edge of your bed—both of your bed, you remind yourself, trying not to linger on that detail—flipping through your phone for the best takeout options.

“You hungry?” you ask, keeping your voice casual. “I’m too tired to cook.”

Kuroo sets his towel on the back of a chair and rubs at his damp hair a final time. “Absolutely. I owe you for picking me up anyway. Let me buy dinner.”

“Deal,” you say, pulling up a nearby Mexican joint’s online menu—you can almost taste the cilantro and lime already. “I vote burritos. Guac and chips on the side. Whaddya think?”

He moves to sit beside you on the mattress, leaning in to read the menu on your phone. Your shoulders nearly brush, and you feel a flicker of awareness at the close proximity. 

“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’m a sucker for a good burrito. Extra beans, though, or it’s not worth it.”

You snort, tapping in your order. “Fine. But don’t complain if you regret it later.”

He laughs proudly. “I have no regrets. Order some chips and salsa, too.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you finalize your selections on the app. “Fried plantains or no? They have them here.”

“Absolutely. Throw ‘em in.”

Satisfied, you place the order. “Alright, burritos en route. They said it’ll be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

Kuroo drops onto his back for a moment, groaning dramatically into one of your pillows. “I might not last that long.”

“Quit being dramatic or I’ll eat your half when it arrives.”

He pops back up, smirking. “You’d miss me if I starved to death.”

“Sure,” you say dryly, setting your phone aside and hugging your knees to your chest, getting comfortable. “Anyway, what’s been up with you lately? Aside from the glorious JVA life. You haven’t actually told me much.”

Kuroo shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, humming nonchalantly. “Mostly traveling, setting up events. Lately it’s been a lot of PR for an upcoming international tournament—making sponsor deals, meeting with potential partners, that sort of thing. It’s never-ending.”

“Sounds exhausting,” you say, and mean it. “But you seem to thrive on that chaos.”

He smiles. “I like keeping busy, yeah. What about you? Kenma mentioned something about you publishing an article in a big journal.”

A self-conscious warmth settles in your chest. “It’s not that big,” you insist. “Just a decent academic journal. But yeah, I’m pretty proud. Trying to balance that with my research duties and teaching labs at university is… a lot.”

He bumps your shoulder gently with his own. “Still, that’s impressive. Your parents must be bragging left and right.”

You exhale, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They are. Kenma, too, apparently.”

“He’s proud,” Kuroo confirms, then yawns. “Man, I’m wiped. But I gotta stay conscious long enough to demolish this burrito.”

As if on cue, there’s a buzz from your phone. You glance down to see a delivery notification: Your order is arriving soon.

“Perfect,” you murmur. “I’ll grab it in a minute. Might as well eat in here—it’s more comfortable than the couch.”

He grins, reaching to grab his wallet from his bag and handing you a few twenty-dollar bills. “I’m not opposed to an in-bed picnic.”

A few minutes later, you’re answering the knock at your door. Your hallway briefly fills with the mouthwatering scent of fresh tortillas and spices; you’re only realising now that this is practically the only thing you’ve had all day. Once you pay the delivery person, you lug the paper bag back to the bedroom. Kuroo shifts to sit cross-legged, making space for the containers between you.

“Dig in,” he says, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

You unwrap your burrito, steam curling upward, and suddenly you’re reminded of all those nights you spent eating junk food with him and Kenma back in Tokyo—late-night convenience store runs, microwaved meals shared on the couch while you watched random movies. It feels oddly nostalgic; you almost want to put on Shrek 2 (the best one) just for the sake of it.

“Mm,” you manage around a mouthful of seasoned rice and beans. “That’s gas.”

Kuroo tears into his own burrito, letting out a satisfied hum. “New York burritos aren’t half bad. Who knew?”

You smirk. “They’re still not exactly authentic, but they’re decent. We have some good Mexican places nearby—if you stick around long enough, I’ll take you to this hole-in-the-wall joint in Queens that’s even better.”

He perks up. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.” Then he gestures at one of the pink hearts still taped to your wall. “Speaking of good times, we got Valentine’s Day coming up, right?”

You pause, taking a sip of your soda to stall, humming. “Yeah, next week. Not exactly my favorite holiday.”

“You doing anything?” he asks, fishing out a chip to scoop some guacamole.

You shrug, eyes fixed on your burrito. “No. I’m, uh… single. So it’ll just be another Tuesday for me. Maybe a glass of wine and some Netflix.”

He nods slowly, as if absorbing that information. “Right. Me too, actually. Single, I mean.”

You hazard a glance at him. “Really? I figured you’d have someone lined up,” you tease, trying to keep your tone light. “You’re always bragging about how charming you are.”

He snorts, looking faintly amused. “No takers at the moment, guess I gotta step up my game.” Then he sets his burrito down, brushing stray bits of rice from his fingers. “Honestly, though, I’m not looking to date just anybody. I’m picky.”

The confession sends a flicker of warmth through you. Don’t read into it, you warn yourself. “Well, guess that means we’ll both be alone on V-Day.”

Kuroo’s face brightens with an idea. “Doesn’t have to be alone-alone. We should hang out! Watch a movie, go ice-skating, corny shit like that. We’re in New York City, after all.”

Your stomach does a little flip, and you hope he can’t see the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. “You want to hang out with me on Valentine’s Day?”

He shrugs, looking casual, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “Why not? Better than moping around separately. We can do the whole anti-Valentine’s vibe. Or, y’know, a Palentine’s Day.”

“Palentine’s Day,” you echo, rolling the phrase around. Part of you wants to jump at the chance, but you’re also cautious—because this is Kuroo. Kuroo, who’s seen you when you were still climbing into Kenma’s bed every time you had a nightmare. Kuroo, who carried you home on his back when you twisted your ankle playing tag at the park. Kuroo, who knows about every embarrassing photo of you in your entire house and is featured in practically half of them. 

Kuroo, who was your first childhood crush, who took you to your senior year formal, who still makes your heart stutter like no one else.

Jesus fuck.

“Sure,” you say at last, trying to sound nonchalant. “That could be fun. As long as you’re not too busy with your JVA stuff.”

He offers a crooked grin, the one that always makes your pulse pick up. “I’ll make time. Promise.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of wrappers crinkling and the hum of traffic outside. You focus on your burrito, but every so often, you peek at him from the corner of your eye—how his long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheekbones, how he smirks just before taking another bite.

When you finally polish off the last of your dinner, you exhale in satisfaction, leaning back against the headboard. Kuroo does the same, patting his stomach. “That really hit the spot,” he says. “Might have to get seconds tomorrow.”

“We can’t keep eating like this,” you tease, crumpling up your napkin. “We’ll both end up broke, living off takeout.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Worse ways to go, babyface.”

You give him a mock glare, but you can’t hide your faint grin. Babyface. Somehow, it doesn’t annoy you the way it used to. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, you think, or maybe you’re just too used to it by now.

“Anyway,” he adds, glancing at the clock on his phone, “you ready to crash? ‘Cause I’m about to pass out any second.”

A twinge of nervous excitement flutters in your chest. You’d momentarily forgotten the whole bed situation. You clear your throat, stacking up the empty takeout containers so you can toss them. “Yeah, I guess so. Let’s clean this up, then… bed.”

He nods, stretching his arms overhead. His shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of toned abdomen, and you quickly look away, pretending to focus on tidying up. Two weeks, you remind yourself. He’ll only be here for two weeks, and then things go back to normal—whatever normal means when it comes to the two of you.

But for now, as you glance up to see him smiling at you—fond, amused, and something else you can’t quite name—you have the strangest feeling that nothing about this trip will be normal. And you’re not sure if that terrifies you or thrills you.

Considering it’s Kuroo, the answer is probably both.

four.

As it turns out, Kuroo lied about being a supposed ‘good boy’, because he grabs just about everything in his sleep, including your comforter, your pillow, and you.

The first thing you notice upon waking is that your arm is asleep—completely, pins-and-needles numb. The second thing you notice is that it’s probably because Kuroo is draped all over you like an overgrown cat: one arm slung across your waist, a leg hooking over yours, and his face half-buried in the pillow you share.

It’s still early. The faint gray glow of dawn filters through your curtains, and the radiator in the corner hisses quietly, pushing lukewarm air into the room. You try to move—gently, so you don’t jostle him too much—but his grip tightens reflexively, pulling you closer.

Your pulse hammers a little faster. Not exactly the start to the morning you pictured when you offered to share a bed. Hesitantly, you lay there, blinking sleep from your eyes as you let the situation sink in. On one hand, he’s so much warmer than the drafty air swirling around you. On the other… well, this is Kuroo.  

He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. You can’t help noticing how his dark hair flops forward onto his forehead, or how his breathing sounds steady, almost comforting against your ear. A little flutter stirs in your chest, and you decide it’s definitely the awkwardness. Or maybe hunger. Definitely not anything else.

You inch your free arm over to nudge him carefully in the side. “Hey,” you whisper, cringing at how scratchy your morning voice sounds, “mind letting me breathe?”

He stirs again, blinking blearily. When he opens his eyes, for a split second, he looks adorably confused—like he’s forgotten where he is. Then the realization dawns, and a slow, smug grin spreads across his face.

“Mornin’,” he drawls, voice husky from sleep. And he still doesn’t move his arm.

You clear your throat, refusing to let your face heat up too obviously. “Care to explain why you’re suffocating me?”

“Am I?” he says, sounding wholly unrepentant. “Sorry, babyface. Didn’t realize you were so delicate.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your numb arm and give him another nudge. “At least release my limbs so I can feel them again.”

He finally relents, scooting back a few inches but still remaining obnoxiously close, the mattress dipping under his weight. You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your shoulder, and rub at the pins-and-needles sensation. Meanwhile, Kuroo stretches luxuriously, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a fraction.

“Not a bad night’s sleep,” he remarks, yawning. “This bed’s cozier than it looks.”

“No thanks to you,” you grumble, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, you can’t quite suppress a tiny shiver at the morning chill. “Next time, keep your limbs to yourself.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you make a great pillow,” he counters, smirking.

Before you can toss a pillow at him in retaliation, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach over, scanning the screen: a news alert and an email from your department. With a sigh, you set it aside for now.

You flick your gaze back to him, noticing how the sunlight is slowly brightening the angles of his face. “What’s your schedule like today?” you ask, if only to give yourself something normal to focus on.

He scrubs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair—somehow, it still looks frustratingly cool—and shrugs. “Meeting at noon with the local organizers. Press conference in the late afternoon. After that, I’m free.”

“Alright,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed. “I have a lab to teach at eleven, so I’ll be gone most of the morning and early afternoon. I’ll give you a spare key in case you need to step out while I’m gone—just don’t get lost.”

“Aw, you’re giving me a key to your place?” His grin turns positively wolfish. “This relationship is moving so fast.”

You scowl, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “Shut up,” you say, grabbing a sweatshirt from a nearby chair and tugging it on. “I’ll make coffee, then we can figure out breakfast.”

Behind you, you hear the creak of the bed as Kuroo stands. “Coffee sounds great,” he says, padding after you. “But only if you have the good stuff. None of that cheap instant brand.”

He catches up to you in the hallway, and for a moment, you’re hyper aware of how tall he is, how his eyes are still a bit sleepy, how your bedhead probably resembles a hedgehog. Yet, there’s a comforting ease in the way he fits into your space—like he’s been here a hundred times before, even though it’s been years since you last lived in the same city.

You toss him a lazy glare over your shoulder. “You’re lucky I still have some leftover beans from when Kenma visited. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with the dreaded instant.”

Kuroo feigns a dramatic shudder, but his grin stays easy. As you flick on the kitchen lights, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. It strikes you again how right he looks here, in your cramped little kitchen, sporting wrinkled sleep clothes and bed hair you’d tease him about if he didn’t look so… comfortable.

“By the way,” he says, voice lower, still thick with morning grogginess. “Thanks for letting me crash here. And, y’know… for not kicking me out of bed for being grabby.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you say, ignoring the warmth creeping into your cheeks as you fill the kettle with water. “Tonight, you stick to your side, got it?”

“Scout’s honor.” He raises three fingers in a mock salute, the picture of insincerity.

You roll your eyes and turn on the stove, waiting for the water to boil. He shuffles a little closer, peering at the kettle. He’s definitely invading your personal space again, but maybe you’re starting to get used to it, if the jump in your heartbeat is anything to go by.

It’s a strange, domestic moment: you, still half-asleep, and Kuroo, leaning in with his arms caging you in, braced on the kitchen counter, with the faint hum of traffic outside. Despite the tingle in your arm and the slight ache in your stiff neck, you realize you don’t hate the idea of waking up like this. For once, you’re not quite as alone in the big city, you justify to yourself. 

He meets your gaze, one brow raised. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, dropping your eyes to the kettle. “Just that the coffee needs to hurry up or I’m gonna be late.”

He chuckles, the soft rumble filling the space. “Sure, sure.”

But he doesn’t push, just stays close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. And for now—just this once—you decide to let it be.

five.

Kuroo looks unfairly good in a suit.

You realise this while you’re curled up on your couch, half-watching the new season of Single’s Inferno on your TV and half-dozing off with a bowl of stale popcorn balanced on your lap. The door swings open without so much as a warning knock—typical—and then there he is, in all his post-press-conference glory: crisp blazer, tailored trousers, tie loosened just enough to give off a casual but effortlessly hot vibe.

Your stomach does a funny little flip. It’s probably the stale popcorn.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door behind him with a nudge of his shoulder. “You look cozy.”

“I am cozy,” you huff, wriggling deeper into your throw blanket. You drop a piece of popcorn into your mouth and make a face when it crunches unpleasantly. “You look… fancy.”

He glances down at his outfit, as if he’s just remembered it exists. “Right. Forgot I was still wearing this.” A small smirk crosses his face. “Didn’t want to keep the fans waiting, so I came straight from the conference.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure your admirers really appreciated that.”

“Jealous?” he teases, toeing off his polished dress shoes. His shirt collar gapes slightly as he unbuttons the top, revealing a sliver of skin at his throat. Annoyingly distracting, even after all these years.

You pointedly look back at the TV, where two contestants are locked in a tense conversation about who picked whom for a date. “Not even remotely.”

“Ouch,” he says, sounding mock-offended. “And here I was, about to tell you that I saved you some fancy hors d’oeuvres from the event. But if you’re not interested—”

You sit up immediately, dislodging your popcorn bowl. “Wait. Real food?”

Kuroo snickers, pulling a napkin-wrapped bundle from his pocket. He tosses it onto the coffee table with a flourish. “Straight from the VIP section. Mini sliders and some kind of salmon tartare thing.”

You snatch it up without hesitation, peeling back the napkin to inspect the offerings. “See, this is why I tolerate you.”

“Tolerate?” He feigns a dramatic gasp. “Babyface, we’ve been through too much for that kind of slander.”

You grunt, already stuffing a mini slider into your mouth. “I don’t know. If I remember correctly, you used to tie my shoelaces together and push me into Kenma just to watch me trip.”

Kuroo grins, unbothered. “Building character.”

“Being an ass.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” he singsongs, shrugging out of his blazer. As he drapes it over the back of the couch and rolls up his sleeves, you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying not to be obvious about it. 

Because it’s unfair, really. He’s always been annoyingly attractive, but there’s something different about seeing him like this—sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loose, like he’s caught between polished professionalism and the boy you used to know.

Kuroo flops down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “You know,” he muses, “you’re getting a little too comfortable trash-talking your own husband.”

You freeze mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

His smirk widens. “Our wedding? First grade? Ring any bells?”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flutters treacherously. “Oh my god, not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this again.” He props his chin on his hand, clearly reveling in your reaction. “It was a beautiful ceremony. You wore that little yellow dress with the flowers on it, I looked dashing in my Spider-Man t-shirt, and Kenma officiated with a Pokémon book instead of a Bible. Very classy.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up napkin at him. “It was a fake wedding.”

“That’s not what you said at the time,” he counters, smug. “You said we’d be married forever.”

You glare at him, but warmth is creeping into your cheeks. “I was six.”

“And yet,” he hums, leaning back against the couch, “you still haven’t divorced me.”

You want to argue. You really do. But the memory of that afternoon—standing in your backyard, clutching a dandelion bouquet while Kuroo grinned at you with all the unearned confidence of an eight-year-old—unfolds so vividly in your mind that you go momentarily speechless.

It’s stupid how much of that day you remember. How he laced his fingers with yours, grinning like he had just won something. How Kenma droned through a “ceremony” while barely looking up from his Game Boy. How, when it was over, Kuroo had squeezed your hand and whispered, Guess that means you’re stuck with me now, huh?

He’d been right, even if you both did eventually grow up and start dating around. And yet, as you sit here—knees almost touching on your too-small couch, the memory of that dandelion bouquet and his smug, gap-toothed grin dangling in the air—you realize there’s a piece of you that never truly left that backyard.

You swallow the last bit of the mini-slider, hoping it’ll ground you. “So,” you say, feigning a dismissive shrug, “we grew up. We definitely child-broke-up.”

Kuroo’s dark eyes glint with amusement as he shifts his weight, the couch cushions dipping under his long frame. “Mm, I don’t recall signing any annulment papers. Actually, I can’t recall you ever giving me back my ring.” He holds up his left hand to wriggle his empty ring finger. “I guess I should’ve at least invested in a proper Band-Aid ring for you.”

You make a face, ignoring how your heart lurches at the implied you he keeps tossing out, like he’s reminding you this is your story—both of yours. “Band-Aid ring, huh? How romantic. You really know how to woo a girl.”

“You always did love Pokémon bandages. Remember how you insisted on Bulbasaur for every scrape?” There’s an unmistakable fondness in his tone, and you wonder if he’s indulging in the same wave of nostalgia that’s been drowning you since you let him through the door.

Trying not to give yourself away, you tilt your head, pretending to examine him. “I see your memory is as annoyingly perfect as ever.”

He flashes a grin. “I have an eye for important details—like your shoe size, your favorite weird pizza topping combo, and the fact that you still haven’t actually denied liking me.”

You snort, heat creeping up your neck. “In your dreams, Tetsu. Where do you get off assuming things, anyway?”

He spreads his hands, tie swaying lightly at his chest. “Can you blame me? You did let me crash at your place. You drove all the way to JFK in rush-hour traffic just to pick me up. If that’s not love, I’m not sure what is.”

You open your mouth to argue but close it again when you realize you’ve got nothing. Yes, you did pick him up. Yes, you did offer him half your bed. And yes, some traitorous part of you is glad he’s here, sprawled out in your living room, reminding you of all the reasons you used to practically worship him when you were a kid.

“You’re insufferable,” you say finally, in a voice so soft it barely carries any bite.

Kuroo chuckles, shifting so he’s angled toward you—elbow braced on the back of the couch, one long leg tucked underneath the other. “Goes both ways, babyface. You’ve always driven me insane.”

The word always lingers in the space between you.

You try to distract yourself by flicking the TV volume higher, but the dating show is a blur. “So how was the press conference?” you ask, setting the empty napkin aside. “Any major breakthroughs? More sponsors falling for your cheesy grin?”

His responding laugh is short, a bit self-conscious. “You know how it is: they ask the same questions—how the tournament’s being organized, who our top competitors are. I say the same rehearsed lines. Then I shake some hands and get out.”

“Bet you loved the attention, though,” you tease, nudging his ankle with your foot.

“Of course,” he deadpans, “you know me too well.”

A quiet pause descends as you both sink further into the cushions. The overhead lamp is dim, casting long shadows on the walls. It feels intimate—too intimate, almost. A far cry from the raucous energy of the press conference he must’ve attended.

“Do you…” You’re not sure why you’re hesitating. Maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability creeping in at the edges of your rib cage. “Do you ever miss being a kid? Everything felt simpler back then.”

His gaze settles on you, something soft reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” He reaches out—hesitates for a second—then pokes the side of your thigh. “But I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”

Your breath catches. “Like what?”

A beat. Then: “Like you still call me out on my bullshit. You’ll still eat half my food if given the chance. You still follow your own weird rules—like never paying for Netflix because you say you can mooch off Kenma forever.” He grins. “And you still look at me the same way. Even if you won’t admit it.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you’re too caught off guard to pry. Look at him the same way—what does that mean, exactly? You’re suddenly hyperaware of how close he is, how he’s studying you in the dim light, how the old tether between you two has always refused to snap, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Anyway,” he says, shifting back with a little exhale, “got any more of that stale popcorn? I’m starving.”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound frazzled. “Go for it, but don’t complain when it tastes like cardboard.”

He leans over, snagging the bowl from the couch cushion and taking a bite. “Mmm, delicious cardboard.”

His faux-enthusiasm makes you roll your eyes—again. But there’s a familiar warmth curling in your stomach, almost like relief that this little moment is yours to share. Like you’ve both come home, just for a second, to the world you used to know.

You let the show drone on in the background while the two of you work through the stale popcorn in comfortable silence. Every now and then, one of you drops a sarcastic remark or a joke about the contestants on-screen. But beneath the banter, there’s something else stirring—a question you’re not sure either of you is ready to ask.

For now, you settle for glancing sideways at him, at the way his profile looks against the glow of the TV. You let yourself wonder, just briefly, what it would mean to take that childhood promise seriously again. And though you push the thought away almost as quickly as it comes, there’s no denying the giddy little thrill that runs through you when you realize Kuroo might be thinking the exact same thing.

six.

Three days later, it’s the weekend, and you’re free of labs and classes. So obviously, that’s the night Kuroo manages to wheedle you into going to one of his PR parties—with obviously, a Valentine’s theme because the entity in the sky hates you. 

“I still can’t believe I agreed to this,” you say in slight disbelief as you wait in the lobby of your apartment for your Lyft. You’re just the slightest bit wine tipsy already and are stumbling a tad bit on your three-inch heels. Kuroo stabilises you with an arm, pulling you into him. 

“You’re such a lightweight,” he says, amused. 

You scowl at him, nudging your heel against the toe of his polished dress shoe. “Says the guy who made me do a round of shots before we even left.”

Kuroo lifts his free hand in mock surrender, though the grin playing on his lips betrays zero remorse. “Hey, I never forced anything. You’re the one who decided it’d be a good idea to keep up with me.”

“You can probably metabolize alcohol through sheer arrogance alone,” you mutter, leaning into him a bit more when your heel wobbles on the slick tile. The building’s lobby has a floor so shiny you can see your own reflection. You catch sight of how red your cheeks look—definitely from the wine.

He snorts, sliding his arm more securely around your waist. “Arrogance is a powerful superpower.”

Before you can retort, the Lyft driver texts that they’ve arrived, and you and Kuroo shuffle through the lobby’s sliding doors. The crisp February air slaps you in the face, clearing some of the pinot-fueled haze from your head.

“God,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk up to the waiting car. “Why does it feel like it’s negative a thousand degrees out here?”

Kuroo hums sympathetically, tugging you close so you can huddle in his warmth. “Isn’t it romantic? Attending a Valentine’s party in frigid weather, half-tipsy, with your beloved husband—”

You jab him in the ribs. “Do. Not. Start.”

“Ow.” He laughs, not sounding at all wounded, and opens the car door for you. “Alright, princess, let’s get you warmed up.”

You slide into the backseat, tucking your purse by your feet. Kuroo follows, closing the door. The car smells faintly of peppermint and some floral air freshener, and the driver has a local pop station on low volume.

“Party tonight, huh?” the driver says, catching a glimpse of your outfits in the rearview mirror. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.”

You force a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s a work thing for… him.” You gesture vaguely at Kuroo, who’s already fiddling with the seatbelt.

Kuroo pipes up, flashing an easy grin. “She’s being modest. She’s the star of the show.”

You give him a side-eye, but your stomach flips a little at how casually he includes you in his world. “I’m definitely just background noise. He’s the big fancy PR guy.”

He drapes an arm across the back of the seat, leaning in with that smug energy you always pretend to hate. “C’mon, babyface, we both know you’re the real highlight.”

The driver chuckles to himself at your banter and pulls out onto the main road.

The city lights blur by, and despite the wine, you’re keyed-up enough to notice just how close Kuroo is. His thigh presses against yours as the car bumps over a pothole, and you catch his scent—still that overpriced cologne. You almost tease him for using the same brand since undergrad, but some part of you likes the familiarity too much to make fun of it.

Kuroo scrolls through his phone—likely checking last-minute details for the event—and you let your gaze wander. You wonder what you’re walking into: a Valentine’s-themed volleyball PR party probably means pink cocktails, goofy heart-shaped decorations, and sponsors angling to chat up Kuroo for new deals.

You sigh softly, leaning back into the seat. At least you’re not teaching labs tomorrow.

Feeling your eyes on him, Kuroo pockets his phone and glances over. “You okay?” he asks, voice quieter so the driver can’t overhear. “Too tipsy?”

“Barely,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

He studies you for a moment, then nods. “If you get overwhelmed or bored, just say the word, and I’ll whisk you out of there.”

Your heart does that unfortunate flip again. “I won’t hold you back from schmoozing with your sponsors,” you say, trying to sound casual.

Kuroo just shrugs. “Eh. The only person I really need to impress is right here.”

He grins when you roll your eyes for the millionth time, but there’s a note of sincerity in his gaze that makes your pulse stutter uncontrollably (and feeling less and less like it’s the wine).

seven.

The Lyft pulls up to a sleek downtown hotel with a bright red banner above the entrance: Welcome, Pre-Valentine’s Volleyball Gala! The curbside is abuzz with people stepping out of taxis and rideshares, all dressed in varying degrees of fancy.

You thank the driver and step out. Immediately, the cold hits you again, but Kuroo’s hand is there, steady at your back. Together, you make your way through the glass doors into the lobby, which is decked out in pink and red balloons. You spot a heart-shaped ice sculpture near the reception desk and suppress a grimace.

“This is… a lot,” you say under your breath, scanning the crowd. Everyone seems to be brandishing name tags and sipping champagne. A table off to the side offers color-coded wristbands for something—“Single,” “Taken,” “Open to Networking,” and so on.

Kuroo leans in close, lips by your ear so you can hear him over the lounge music. “Brace yourself, babyface. Corporate Valentine’s chic in full force.”

You can’t help a snort. “Don’t call me babyface in front of everyone,” you hiss, trying not to look self-conscious.

He smirks. “Fine. Mrs. Kuroo it is.”

You elbow him gently in the ribs, and he lets out a playful “Ow!” just as a man in a suit rushes over to greet you.

“Kuroo, hey!” The guy beams and extends a hand. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got the sponsors over by the bar, and the press is setting up in the lounge area.”

“Thanks, Daichi,” Kuroo replies smoothly, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll swing by and say hello in a minute. Oh—this is my plus-one.”

The man’s smile widens. “Great to meet you!” He doesn’t even blink at the slightly flustered expression on your face, just hands you both event badges. “We’re color-coded, so choose whichever suits your mood. And enjoy the party!”

You glance at the bands in your hand: pink for “Single,” purple for “Open to Collaboration,” red for “Taken.” There are even gold ones for “VIP.”

“Seriously?” you mutter, turning to Kuroo. “This is next-level marketing cheese.”

He laughs, plucking a gold band from a nearby tray and snapping it onto his wrist. “I’m definitely VIP, babe. No shame.”

Rolling your eyes, you settle for a purple one—“Open to Collaboration” seems neutral enough, right? You have no intention of wearing the pink “Single” band all night.

Kuroo’s gaze flicks to it, and you catch a slight smirk before he ushers you forward into the main ballroom.

Which, by the way, is massive: vaulted ceilings, floating heart-shaped lanterns, a champagne fountain at the center. You can practically smell the wealth. A DJ in the corner is playing some inoffensive house music that somehow fits the glittery vibe.

“Wow,” you breathe. “They really didn’t hold back.”

“Volleyball PR events rarely do,” Kuroo says, threading his fingers through yours before you can process it. It’s casual and familiar, like he’s done this a thousand times, but your heart jumps all the same. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?”

He guides you toward the open bar. A bartender in a bright red bow tie greets you with a grin, asking for your orders.

“Champagne for me,” Kuroo says, then glances down at you. “And for my lovely companion…?”

You pause. “Champagne’s fine. Might as well fit the theme.”

As the bartender works his magic, you turn to Kuroo. “So, what’s the plan? Do we mingle for half an hour and then dip? I’m not sure how long I can stand being reminded that Valentine’s Day is literally next week.”

Kuroo’s eyebrow quirks. “Aren’t we hanging out anyway? We promised each other a palentine’s date—remember?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “I remember. Just�� these decorations are overkill.”

He hands you a champagne flute, then raises his own in a mock toast. “To corporate romance,” he says with a smirk.

You clink glasses, taking a sip. The fizzy sweetness bursts across your tongue, and you can’t help but think it tastes like anticipation—like something is about to happen tonight that neither of you saw coming. Then you convince yourself that it’s just the alcohol. 

Over the next twenty minutes, you watch as Kuroo does his job—he introduces you to a cluster of sponsors, some old teammates, and a few local sports reporters. He’s charismatic in that effortless way he’s always been: breezing through small talk, sprinkling in jokes, and deflecting every flirty comment from others with easy charm.

You mostly hover by his side, alternately sipping champagne and trying not to feel out of place in your heels. Every so often, his fingers brush your elbow or settle low on your back, like he’s silently telling you: You’re not alone here.

It’s strangely reassuring—even if you can’t quite decide what it means.

Eventually, the crowd disperses into smaller clusters, and you manage to snag a moment of relative quiet near the pink-lit fountain in the center of the room.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks again, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Not too bored?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. It’s actually kinda funny watching you switch between your used-car-salesman voice and your normal voice.”

He snorts. “You want me to hit them with the real me? That might be too much for these delicate souls.”

“I can handle it,” you say, surprising even yourself with your boldness—maybe it’s the champagne.

Kuroo’s gaze flickers, something mischievous in his eyes. “Oh, I know you can handle me, babyface. You’ve done it since you were six, right?”

Your heart skips. He just won’t let you live that childhood wedding down. And, annoyingly, you don’t really mind.

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s no heat in your voice. “Anyway, what’s next on the agenda? Are you supposed to give a speech or something?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. “Nah, not tonight. Just an appearance—shake some hands, charm some sponsors.” He shrugs, then lowers his voice. “We could slip out soon, if you want. Go somewhere else—somewhere less… pink.”

The offer sits in the air between you. You can’t help wondering what exactly he’s proposing. Drinks at a quieter bar? A late-night walk under the city lights? Going back to your apartment to continue that half-finished bottle of wine?

You muster a casual tone. “I’m not opposed. But won’t your absence be noticed?”

“I showed up, I mingled,” he says, brushing off your concern. “That’s enough for them.”

He flashes that signature grin—so easy, so Kuroo—and a flutter of nostalgia collides with the champagne buzz in your bloodstream. You think about how this night started: you, tipsy in your lobby, letting him steady you on your heels. You think about Valentine’s Day looming, and how all of this might be leading to something (which, you’re still trying to figure out if it’s good or bad).

“Alright,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. “One more round of goodbyes, then we escape.”

Kuroo’s eyes linger on you, almost thoughtful. “Deal.”

He downs the rest of his champagne and sets the empty flute on a nearby tray, offering you his arm. The little gesture makes you laugh under your breath; he’s always half-joking, half-serious. But you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow all the same, taking advantage of the moment—you grin. 

He is your date tonight, after all.

eight.

You two end up at a 99cent pizza shop.

It’s one of those shitty ones, where the lights blink every other second and are open 24/7 and catering exclusively to drunk people. You order a pepperoni slice (which is $1.50, absolutely criminal), Kuroo gets a slice with mushrooms and peppers like a weirdo, and a ten-piece garlic knots because you’re both absolute whores for shitty food. 

The cashier barely looks up as you pass over a crumpled bill, his expression one of pure indifference. It’s the kind of place where no one gives a shit if you waltz in wearing a ballgown or, in Kuroo’s case, an untucked dress shirt and a loosened tie that screams former professionalism turned reckless abandon.

Kuroo nudges your shoulder as he grabs the tray of food. “Find us a seat, babyface.”

You glance around. The booths are occupied by a mix of exhausted bar-hoppers, students pulling all-nighters with greasy paper plates in front of them, and one guy hunched over, presumably contemplating his life choices. Classic New York.

You settle for a two-seater in the back corner, mostly because it’s the only spot that doesn’t look like it’ll give you tetanus. Kuroo sets the tray down between you, sliding into the seat across from you with that ridiculous, smug expression that hasn’t left his face all night.

“You’re staring,” you say flatly, reaching for a garlic knot.

He props his chin on his hand, unbothered. “You look cute.”

Your hand freezes mid-air. “What?”

Kuroo, the absolute bastard, takes a slow bite of his pizza like he didn’t just casually drop a grenade into your bloodstream. “I said, you look cute.” He gestures vaguely at you with his slice. “All dressed up in a shitty pizza joint. Very Serena van der Woodsen in Gossip Girl vibes.”

You recover quickly, snorting as you take a bite of your garlic knot. “You did not just compare me to Serena van der Woodsen.”

“Hey, I know my pop culture references.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But seriously. I like this look on you.”

The warmth in your chest spreads far too quickly. You shove it down with a bite of pizza. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not gonna work.”

Kuroo smirks. “You sure? It worked when we were kids.”

You shoot him a look. “I was six. You bribed me with strawberry Pocky.”

“And you fell for it every time,” he says, grinning. “You were so easy to manipulate.”

You kick him lightly under the table, but there’s no real venom behind it. He just chuckles and takes another bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at you again.

“So,” he says after a moment. “What was the verdict on tonight? Was it as painful as you thought?”

You hesitate, twirling the crust of your pizza between your fingers. The thing is, you actually had fun. Not just tolerable, get-through-it-and-leave fun, but actual, laughing-with-Kuroo-in-the-middle-of-a-stuffy-corporate-party fun. The realization makes your stomach flip.

“It was fine,” you say, playing it cool. “Drinks were good. Company was tolerable.”

Kuroo barks out a laugh. “Tolerable? Damn, I’ll take it.”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—so easy, so damn fond—makes it hard to breathe for a second.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your plate. “Anyway, it was nice to see you in work mode. You actually seemed like a functional adult.”

Kuroo sighs dramatically. “I know, it’s exhausting.”

You snort. “I imagine so. Having to use, like, three brain cells at a time.”

“It’s really pushing my limits,” he says with an obnoxious frown. 

The conversation drifts into easy territory—inside jokes, exaggerated retellings of childhood disasters, a debate about whether New York pizza is actually better than Tokyo’s (you say yes, he remains stubbornly neutral). It feels natural, like slipping into an old sweater that still fits perfectly despite the years.

At some point, he reaches across the table, swiping a garlic knot straight off your plate.

“Hey,” you protest, swatting at his hand too late.

Kuroo just smirks, popping the whole thing into his mouth. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, babyface.”

“Possession is going to be me slapping you in the face if you steal another one.”

“Violence,” he muses, chewing. “That’s how you treat your childhood husband?”

Your face heats. “Tetsu.”

He winks. “Relax. I’ll buy you more next time.”

Next time.

The words hang there for a second longer than necessary. He says it like it’s a given, like this—you and him, nights like this—is a thing that should keep happening.

And the stupidest part? You don’t hate the idea… not even a little bit.

You pick up another garlic knot, breaking eye contact like that’ll do anything to slow your heartbeat. “You better buy me more.”

Kuroo just leans back, watching you like he already knows something you don’t, and you are slightly terrified of whatever that implies.

nine.

Monday night, after you get home from an excruciating day of labwork (like… you entered at 6 AM and left the next day at 2 AM—you’re really going through it these days), Kuroo is already changed and in his pajamas, reading a book and playing a vinyl you bought when you went through your #artsy stage. He looks up with a smile from his spot sprawled across your couch as you come in, drop your keys on the side table, and promptly collapse on the floor.

“I’m so tired,” you wail, fake sniffling, slumped against the wall. Kuroo looked momentarily alarmed until your pleading; he lets out an exhale that’s vaguely close to a laugh when he realises you’re just being dramatic.

“Welcome home,” he says, his smile practically audible in his voice. “Take it you had a long few day… days.”

You sigh, nodding, wobbling over to the couch and plopping on top of him. You’re so tired you don’t even care about the proximity—you want to lie down, right now. “Yeah. But I think I’ve discovered something pretty interesting, so I’m hoping I can get into Neuron this time around.”

“You’ll get it,” Kuroo says completely calmly, sounding insanely confident in you. He doesn’t even look away from his book—just lifts his arms enough to let you put your head on his chest, and then resting them against your shoulder blades. “Smartest girl I know.”

“...Shut up,” you mutter, burying your face into his t-shirt to hide your embarrassment. 

You let out a weary groan, face still hidden in Kuroo’s t-shirt, and he just chuckles under his breath, shifting slightly so you can get more comfortable. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers raking through it in a surprisingly soothing motion—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Can’t believe you’re still awake,” he remarks, eyes darting back to his book. “Look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

“Very astute observation,” you mumble into the soft cotton. “Nothing gets past you.”

He snorts, lightly tapping your shoulder in retribution before turning a page. “Hey, just looking out for my genius scientist here. Big day tomorrow, right?”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Big day? I mean, I guess I have more lab stuff…”

Kuroo tilts his head, arching an eyebrow at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. “Not that,” he says, exasperated. “Valentine’s Day, babyface. Remember?”

Your heart does a quick, uncomfortable skip. Valentine’s—not Palentine’s. The difference lands in your head like a small explosion, especially considering you’ve both been referring to it as Palentine’s up ‘til now.

“O-oh,” you stammer eloquently, trying to recover. “Right. Valentine’s. Sure.”

He watches you carefully, eyes gleaming with amusement as he gently closes his book. “You didn’t forget our plans, did you?”

Plans. Right. He invited you for something—ice skating or a movie, or maybe both. You’d said yes in that flustered, I’m-pretending-this-is-just-a-friendly-thing way. But the way he’s saying it now, with that particular lilt in his voice, has your mind racing.

You force yourself to sit up slightly, though you don’t leave the comfort of lying half-on-top of him. “I—uh. I didn’t forget. I guess I’m just… used to calling it Palentine’s.”

Kuroo smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek with casual familiarity. “Oh, right. My bad. I must’ve slipped.”

Slipped, he says, which makes your pulse do an annoying little flutter.

“I mean, it’s not like it matters,” you continue quickly, your words tripping over themselves. “We’re just hanging out—like always. Whether we call it Valentine’s or Palentine’s or ‘Tuesday’… right?”

He hums in response—low in his throat, almost thoughtful—while his hand drifts from your hair to the back of your neck in a comforting weight. “Sure,” he says, a bit too lightly to be casual. “Whatever you wanna call it.”

The tone in his voice suggests that maybe it does matter, that maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t want to hide behind the ‘Palentine’s’ façade anymore.

A moment of silence settles between you, broken only by the faint crackle of your old vinyl spinning and the ever-present traffic outside. Your nerves feel strung tight as a bitch, and you wonder if he can sense how tense you’ve suddenly gone.

“Anyway,” he says, clearly trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness, “I was thinking we could do something painfully cliché tomorrow. Romantic comedy marathon, maybe. Or that ice-skating idea. Hot chocolate, the works.”

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. “That sounds… nice.” You fidget with a loose thread on his t-shirt, trying not to overthink every micro-expression on his face. “You sure you won’t be busy with, like, sponsor stuff, or—”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you kidding? I’d rather be with you—binging Netflix, falling on my face on the rink—than stuck in another press conference.” He gives a lazy shrug, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “Besides, I’m all yours tomorrow.”

I’m all yours.

There’s that pesky little flutter in your chest again, ramping up several notches. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding where you’re still sprawled half-across his torso. Possibly. Probably.

“That’s… good,” you manage, trying not to think too hard about the myriad ways Valentine’s could be interpreted. Trying not to let the prospect of him wanting more—maybe wanting you—send you into a full-blown panic. Because a teeny, traitorous part of you is really hoping that’s what it means.

“Now,” he says, clearly sensing the rabbit hole your mind might be running down. “It’s past midnight, and you’ve had, what, negative hours of sleep?”

“That’s not even physically possible,” you argue, though your eyelids suddenly feel very heavy.

“Sure it is,” he counters, wrapping an arm more snugly around your waist as he tugs a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “I’m pretty sure you’re living proof. C’mon. Let’s just crash right here for a bit.”

You don’t have the energy to protest, and honestly? The idea of dozing off to the low hum of the vinyl, warm against Kuroo’s chest, is downright tempting. Besides, you’ll have to drag yourself to bed eventually—but for now, this cozy bubble is enough.

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling your limbs already going slack. “But if I drool on you, it’s your own fault for not kicking me off.”

He laughs quietly, letting the book he was reading slip onto the coffee table. “I’ll live. I’ve survived worse. Like the time you threw up all over me after that carnival ride in middle school.”

You grumble something incoherent in protest, too exhausted to muster a real comeback. The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, and he shifts just enough to angle you more comfortably against him.

As your eyes flutter shut, you can’t stop replaying the word Valentine’s in your head. Tomorrow. Kuroo said it so easily, like it was obvious. Like it was a given that you wouldn’t just be celebrating as friends or old childhood buddies. Warmth pools in your chest, a mix of excitement and nerves. Maybe you’ll just have to see how tomorrow plays out—maybe you’ll finally figure out if this… thing you’ve been dancing around for so long is actually real.

Because if there’s one thing you are sure about, it’s that Kuroo has always had a way of turning your world on its axis. And this time, you really hope he doesn’t stop at Palentine’s.

ten.

You wake up to the smell of french toast.

Which, honestly, you lowkey don’t love nearly as much as waffles. But you aren’t going to be picky after your crash out last night. 

You stumble into the kitchen, vaguely rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, blinking away the sleep to read the Eevee alarm clock Kenma bought you when you moved in. 12:19PM. Honestly not your worst: once, during finals season in your undergrad years, you pulled a three-day all-nighter and passed out for sixteen straight hours after. Kuroo had to practically drag you out of your dorm room after that one; he and Kenma basically froze your phone with the amount of texts they sent in a futile attempt to wake you up. 

Kuroo’s back is to you as he stands at the stove, his compression shirt accentuating his muscle definition. He looks straight up like a model you’d see at the mall in a Calvin Klein billboard, and it makes you flush as you remember he said Valentine’s last night. He senses you without even turning around—he, without even bothering to look up, says, “Mornin’, babyface. Do you want strawberries or whipped cream?”

“You doubt me. Both,” you snort, stepping closer. Despite your attempt at nonchalance, your stomach flips when you get closer and can see just how freakishly good he looks in that stupid ass shirt. The memory of him casually calling it Valentine’s still sizzles in the back of your mind.

Kuroo casts you a brief over-the-shoulder grin. “Both it is, princess.” He deftly flips a slice of french toast on the pan, the sweet, eggy aroma curling toward your nose. “Hope you’re hungry. I got a little carried away.”

“Oh, I’m starving,” you say, eyeing the small stack of bread slices he’s already prepared on a plate. “Seriously, I might eat all of this. If you don’t move fast, you won’t get any.”

He chuckles, dropping another piece of bread into the batter. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind while I guard my breakfast with my life.”

You open the fridge for the strawberries, and sure enough, there’s also a can of whipped cream on the shelf—Kuroo came prepared. “I can’t believe you actually planned this,” you mutter under your breath, rifling around. “Is this your way of bribing me to be your Valentine?”

He pretends to think about it. “Might be. If it works, I’ll make waffles next time, too.”

You huff a laugh, grateful your face is still hidden in the fridge so he can’t see the fond smile spreading across your lips. Might be. It’s clear he’s leaning full-throttle into the idea of spending this entire Valentine’s Day with you. The thought warms you more than you want to admit.

Sliding the carton of strawberries onto the counter, you catch him drizzling a bit of honey on the toast. “Fancy,” you tease, dragging out the syllable.

Kuroo shrugs one shoulder. “Hey, can’t help being an overachiever. Besides…” He flips off the stove burner and slides the last slice of french toast onto the plate, stacking it neatly. “I missed this.”

You glance up, curiosity and something else tangling in your chest. “This? Cooking breakfast?”

He sets the spatula aside, turns around, and leans against the counter. “Cooking breakfast for you,” he clarifies, pausing as if testing how you’ll react. “Y’know, we used to hang out all the time—before you left for New York. I guess it just reminded me of those days. Late nights, lazy mornings, that sort of thing.”

Your cheeks warm at his candidness. “We still hung out a bit after we graduated,” you offer, though you know it was never the same once you’d moved halfway across the globe for grad school.

Kuroo nods, his hand lingering on the handle of the frying pan as if he needs something to ground himself. “Yeah, but once you officially moved here? We both got busy. Kenma did his whole streaming empire thing, I jumped into work. And you were—”

“Neck-deep in studies,” you finish for him, remembering those endless days in the lab, how you’d chug energy drinks and blink against fluorescent lights until your eyes burned.

Kuroo taps the counter with his knuckles, a soft exhale escaping him. “Uh-huh. And Kenma and I, well… we kinda promised each other we wouldn’t make a big deal about how much we missed you.” He flashes a small, wry grin. “Figured you already had enough to worry about without dealing with our whining.”

You pause, strawberries in hand, staring at him. “Wait. You both made that promise?”

He nods, and for once, you catch the hint of sheepishness in his expression. “We might have texted constantly about how weird it was without you around,” he admits, chuckling under his breath. “But we agreed to keep it low-key so you could focus on your research. Didn’t want you feeling guilty if you started missing home too much.”

Your chest tightens. “I—God, that’s so stupid of you guys.”

He arches an amused eyebrow. “Stupid?”

“I would have been fine!” you insist, though a pang of fondness (and maybe regret) flickers through you. “Yeah, I’d have been sad, but I would’ve rather known. Going months without hearing from you two sometimes was way worse.”

He huffs a laugh, pushing off the counter to move closer. “Yeah, guess in hindsight, it wasn’t the best plan. But we were, what, twenty? Twenty-one? And mostly worried you’d drop out of grad school to come home if we made you feel bad.”

“Drop out?” You roll your eyes. “Please, as if I’d ever let you be that important.”

Kuroo tosses you a smirk, but there’s a gratefulness in his gaze. “Hey, I’m plenty important. Just not more important than a doctorate in neuroscience.”

“Damn straight,” you retort, but your heart is pounding too hard for sarcasm to land with its usual punch. He missed you. More than that—he and Kenma both actively hid how much they missed you, just so you wouldn’t feel sad or guilty. That’s… an annoying level of sweet.

Before you can dwell on it, he gestures to the french toast. “Anyway, let’s eat? Unless you’d rather stand here and get all sentimental.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but your tone is more flustered than harsh. “Give me the plate.”

He hands it over with a dramatic bow, then grabs the strawberries and whipped cream to set on the table. You both sit across from each other, and he insists on adding the toppings to your serving, swirling an absurd amount of whipped cream atop each slice.

“Seriously,” you scold, swatting his wrist when he won’t stop pressing the nozzle, “we don’t need that much foam sugar.”

He just laughs. “Oh, come on, babyface. Live a little.”

“Hmm,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your grin. “Fine. But if I get a sugar crash in like two hours, you’re dealing with the aftermath.”

He mock-salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a small, silly moment, but something in the easy way you banter—especially right after that confession about how hard it was when you left—makes your chest swell with warmth. Perhaps it’s just the Valentine’s vibe that has your mind spinning in circles, but you can’t help wondering what he’s getting at here.

You try a bite, letting the sweetness and cinnamon melt on your tongue. “Damn,” you mumble through a mouthful, “this is actually pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” He sets a hand against his heart in mock offense. “I slaved away in the kitchen—”

“What, for like ten minutes?” you interrupt, snickering. “Yep, truly backbreaking labor.”

He pretends to wipe away a tear. “Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Despite the teasing, he looks satisfied when you reach for another slice. You don’t miss how his eyes follow the movement, nor how his gaze lingers on your face, like he’s taking mental snapshots of you enjoying the meal. It’s disconcertingly tender—especially for a guy who’s teased you your entire life.

Eventually, when you’ve both eaten more than enough, you lean back in your chair, hand resting on your full stomach. “All right, Chef Kuroo. That was acceptable. Now what’s the plan for the rest of Valentine’s Day, hmm?”

He clears his throat, fiddling with a piece of crust on his plate. “Well, we could go ice skating later—like we talked about. If you’re still up for it. Or we could do that rom-com marathon and eat a bunch of store-bought chocolate. Or both.”

“That’s… definitely an option,” you say slowly, feeling a little thrill ripple through you at how nonchalant you’re trying to be. “Which one first?”

He meets your eyes, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “Why not flip a coin?”

You snort, standing up and collecting the dishes. “No way. I have the worst luck with coin tosses.”

“Then I’ll rig it so you win.” Kuroo grins, pushing back his chair to follow you to the sink. 

“And you call me the overachiever,” you toss over your shoulder, cranking on the faucet. You start rinsing plates, the soap suds foaming around your fingers.

“Mm,” he murmurs, stepping up behind you. “At least let me help.”

He crowds in, reaching to take the plate from your hand. You don’t protest—mostly because your entire body goes rigid at the realization of how close he’s standing. His chin practically brushes your temple, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The only sound is the running water, the faint drip of the faucet, and the thud of your own heartbeat in your ears. You can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, noticing your sudden stillness.

“Yeah,” you manage, forcing yourself to relax. “Just spacing out.”

His lips twitch into a small, understanding smile. “Same here.” Then, with a deft motion, he takes the plate from you and resumes scrubbing, shoulders barely an inch from yours in your cramped kitchen.

This shouldn’t feel so charged, right? He’s just helping you do dishes. But everything with Kuroo feels different this morning—like there’s some invisible line you both keep brushing against, neither one wanting to take the leap but both too invested to step back.

When the last plate is clean, he sets it on the drying rack, shuts off the water, and dries his hands with a dishrag. “So,” he says, turning to you. “Breakfast? Check. Next item on the Valentine’s agenda?”

You roll your eyes—can’t believe you’re actually calling it Valentine’s now, you think, but you don’t correct him. Instead, you tilt your head, as if deep in thought. “Well, you did promise me cheesy romance, so maybe we do the rom-com marathon first and ice skating afterward, if we still have time.”

His grin is immediate. “Sounds perfect.” He turns and saunters toward your living room, tossing the dishrag onto the counter. “I’ll pick the first movie?”

You’re about to agree when you suddenly remember—he said he’d rig the coin toss. So you raise an eyebrow. “Wait, how do I know you’re not just rigging this in your favor?”

Kuroo snorts, grabbing the TV remote. “Hey, I’m giving you exactly what you want, babyface. I call that your favor.”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time, but you can’t keep the small smile off your face as you follow him into the living room. For the first time in a long while, you feel light—like maybe the missing piece of your life that you left behind in Tokyo is right here, making you french toast and joking about Valentine’s Day.

eleven.

You easily binge Netflix’s Love Is In The Air recommendations for several hours, to the point where, by the time that you wrap up The Kissing Booth 3, the sun has already started to set. Outside your fourth floor apartment, you have a relatively unobstructed view of the way the sky melds into a blend of purples and blues, casting shadows and making your living room’s lighting feel even warmer.

Somehow (you say, knowing full well that you climbed into this position with full intentions of doing so) you end up curled up in Kuroo’s arms, one of your legs draped over his thigh while his arm wraps snugly around your shoulders. His other hand lazily scrolls through the Netflix homepage, searching for the next rom-com victim. You barely pay attention, though—too busy noticing how ridiculously warm he is, how easy it is to fit against him, and how the dark colors of the setting sun outside look so damn pretty.

Finally, after a half-hearted scroll through the Looking For The One category, you decide: “I’m hungry. Let’s get sushi.”

He perks up, setting down the remote. “Now you’re speaking my language. Which place should we order from?”

“There’s this little spot a few blocks away that does really fresh rolls,” you say, grabbing your phone from the cushion beside you. “They deliver in like fifteen minutes, too.”

Kuroo nods, giving you a light squeeze. “Cool. Just let me know how much I owe you. Or consider it your Valentine’s gift to me, I guess.” He snickers.

You roll your eyes at the terrible suggestion, pulling up the menu on your phone. “I’ve got it, I’m feeling generous. Plus, this place is kinda special to me anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Special? Because the sushi’s that good?”

You shift, trying to type your order without meeting his eyes. “Uhh… well, an ex brought me here once. That was back in like, grad school.”

Kuroo’s hand stills against your arm. “Excuse me?” he says, feigning dramatic outrage. “I can’t believe you’d talk about your sordid affairs on Valentine’s Day, babyface. You wound me.”

You snort, giving him a playful shove that doesn’t move him even an inch. “Relax, it was ages ago. It’s not like it was a big deal. I mostly liked him because he kinda looked like—” You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“Kinda looked like… what?” Kuroo parrots, amused suspicion lighting up his features. “Finish that sentence.”

You clamp your mouth shut and tap furiously on your phone screen instead. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, no no no, you don’t get to drop that bomb and then pretend it never happened. Spill.”

“It’s none of your business,” you reply swiftly, your cheeks burning. “And for the record, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.”

He sets his jaw, locking you in place by tightening the arm wrapped around you. “Alright, guess I’ll have to guess. Let’s see—you liked him because he kinda looked like…” He pauses, tapping a finger to his chin in exaggerated thought. “Me?”

“Oh my god, no,” you say, maybe a bit too quickly. “That’d be weird, Tetsu. You’re—well, you’re you.”

Something fleetingly vulnerable flashes across his face. He frowns a little, brow knitting. “Do you really think so?” His tone goes quiet, serious in a way that has your stomach dropping.

Your pulse stutters. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” You flail, phone clattering onto the cushion as you try to find his gaze. “I just—look, it’s not weird. Of course I—I mean, you know I—” You exhale shakily, feeling your words tumble over themselves. “I like you, Tetsu. Please don’t be upset.”

There’s a beat of tense silence… and then Kuroo bursts out laughing. Actual, stomach-jostling laughter. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he struggles to compose himself, and you realize, with rapidly boiling annoyance, that he’s been messing with you.

“You jerk!” you sputter, smacking him on the arm. “That wasn’t funny! I thought I actually hurt your feelings.”

He just grins, easily absorbing your weak swats. “Aw, sorry, babyface. You should’ve seen your face, though.”

Your cheeks feel molten. “I hate you sometimes, you know?”

“Mm-hmm,” he drawls, pulling you back against him, his palm smoothing over your shoulder. “But the good news is, now I know you do like me. And that some of your exes looked like me, which is a really nice ego boost.”

You groan, burying your face against his chest. “Shut up.”

He keeps talking anyway, voice taking on a more pensive note. “I mean, it’s not like I can judge. I think about you whenever I meet someone new.”

Slowly, you lift your head, eyebrows knitting. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs one shoulder, as if it’s no big deal. “Just, like, whenever I go on a date, I find myself comparing them to you. They’re never as funny or as smart, or I wonder if they’d get along with Kenma the way you obviously do… that kind of thing.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. “Tetsu…” You’re not sure how to respond to that confession. Warmth and a spike of adrenaline rush through you, and you can only open and close your mouth in silence.

At your speechlessness, Kuroo just laughs, scrunching his nose in amusement. “Aw, come on. It’s not that shocking, is it?”

“Uh,” you manage, blinking. “I—uh.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, so you do the only thing that makes sense in your frazzled state: you announce, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“What?” He snorts. “Really? That’s your best response to my heartfelt confession?”

“You think I chose this response?” you squeak, scrambling to your feet. Your cheeks feel like they could combust. “I don’t control your unfiltered romantic drivel, and you don’t control my bladder, okay?”

Kuroo just shakes his head in disbelief, though his eyes gleam with delight. “I’m not stopping you, babyface. Go pee. The sushi’ll be here in a few minutes anyway.”

You nod, fleeing the scene for the bathroom, heart pounding in your ears. Even as you slam the door behind you, you can hear him chuckling softly in the living room.

Leaning against the bathroom door, you take a steadying breath. He compares everyone to you. You literally admitted you like him, too. And he’s laughing, because this is all apparently just… normal. Suddenly, the entire dynamic shifts—like everything you’ve both been dancing around for so long is right there, out in the open, and you’re not quite sure what to do next.

Well, you do know one thing: you really do need to pee.

“Okay,” you mutter, “priorities.”

And as you step toward the toilet, part of you wonders how to keep your composure once you walk back out to him—because from here on out, there’s no more pretending you don’t both feel something real.

twelve.

After peeing and washing your hands with your favorite bougie ass soap (Christmas gift from your boss; you could never afford it at department store rates), you whip out your phone and call Kenma. You know it’s 8 AM over there, so there’s a good chance you’ll be waking up your brother, but you don’t care because you need his objective opinion right now.

It takes until the third call, but on the fourth ring, he finally picks up. 

“What?” he mumbles groggily. “I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, but I don’t care. Give me some good advice right now,” you hiss into your phone, pacing back and forth in front of your shower like a maniac.

You hear fabric rustling, followed by a prolonged yawn. “Fine. I bet it has to do with Kuro.”

You freeze, biting down on your lip. “...Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Kenma sighs. “I literally can’t believe you’re calling me about him at eight in the morning.”

“It’s not that early, y’know.”

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath, then says more clearly, “So what’s the crisis? I’m not sure how many brain cells I have at this hour.”

You rub your forehead, letting out a strangled groan. “Kenma, is it weird if I kinda—I don’t know—wanna make out with him? Like, a lot? Maybe not just make out—maybe, like, really make out—” You shake your head vigorously, cheeks flaming. “But is that weird?”

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment. Then Kenma’s voice, flat as ever: “That’s my sister and my best friend you’re talking about. Gross. But also not really weird. Because I literally officiated your wedding in second grade, remember? You two are basically old news.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your free hand clenching at your side. “Oh my God, not you too. Kuroo keeps bringing it up, and now you’re enabling him. When did that wedding even become a real memory to everyone but me?”

“Uh, it’s always been a memory. You wore a yellow dress, he had a Spider-Man t-shirt, I was reading from a Pokémon handbook.” He yawns. “I was, like, seven, but I still remember, because Kuro wouldn’t shut up about it. And apparently, still won’t.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, pacing faster. “He mentions it daily, I swear, and it’s driving me insane—like, I get it, we had a pretend wedding when we were literal children. Does he have to bring it up every chance he gets?”

Kenma’s voice goes deadpan. “He brings it up because he likes you, dumbass.”

Your pacing halts so abruptly you almost trip over the bathroom mat. “...Oh.”

A beat passes; the only sound is your heart thudding in your ears.

“Yeah,” Kenma continues, dry as day-old toast. “He’s liked you forever. You’ve liked him forever. You’re both idiots. Congrats.”

You gawk at the phone, mind spinning. “Wait—he—he’s always…? Does everyone know this except me?”

Kenma yawns again, unperturbed. “Probably. I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle growing up. Dad used to tell me he was more worried about you running off with Tetsu than, like, your middle school crushes.”

You gape. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” You hear the faint click of a laptop or a Switch—knowing Kenma, he’s probably opening up a game to pass the time. “Anyway, is that all you needed to ask? Because I’d like to get at least another hour of sleep.”

You groan, but you can’t quell the swirl of hope rising in your chest. “This is… surreal. He just told me earlier—like, not directly, but he basically said he thinks about me whenever he meets someone new. And I might’ve implied I like him too—oh God, Kenma, what do I do?”

He’s quiet for a moment, presumably considering. “Make out with him. I don’t know. You literally said that’s what you want to do.”

“That’s it? That’s your profound, brotherly wisdom?”

“What else do you want me to say?” he drones. “You both already know you like each other. This was the most obvious outcome in the world. Just do your thing, get it out of your system. Or get married again if you want. Could be a nice full-circle moment.”

You let out a mortified noise, pressing your forehead to the cool tile of your bathroom wall. “You’re—urgh, never mind. Thanks, Kenma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Tell Kuro he owes me five bucks for something… I’ll think of a reason later. Bye.”

Before you can protest, he hangs up, leaving you with your phone still pressed to your ear. You stare at the blank screen, a mix of exasperation and relief swirling through your chest.

He likes you. You like him. You’re idiots—Kenma’s words, not yours. And apparently, neither of you has been hiding it as well as you thought.

You inhale slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. Then you square your shoulders. “Okay,” you say to yourself, “I can do this. Just… go out there and act normal. Or as normal as possible while wanting to jump his bones. Easy.”

With that pep talk, you push off the wall, open the bathroom door, and step into the hallway, with completely unfounded confidence in yourself.

thirteen.

That confidence goes straight out the window because as soon as you walk back, you are caught off-guard by Kuroo standing in the middle of your living room, hands behind his back and wearing the guiltiest expression you’ve ever seen, obviously hiding something from your view. You’re scared, and immediately a little suspicious. 

“What are you doing?” you ask warily, taking very slow, careful steps toward him. “What is that?”

He ignores the question entirely, instead breaking into a triumphant grin. “Babyface,” he declares, “I have a Valentine’s Day gift for you.”

All the tension in your shoulders uncoils in one quick moment of relief. “Oh.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “Okay, this should be good. What is it—a frog? A cricket? Remember when you gave me that cricket in fourth grade?”

Kuroo stifles a laugh, as if recalling the memory of your horrified shriek when you opened a tiny shoebox to find a chirping insect. “I was trying to teach you about biology. You always liked science-y stuff,” he defends. “Besides, a cricket is romantic if you think about it long enough.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please don’t tell me that’s what’s behind your back right now.”

He steps forward, eyes warm with mirth. “I promise. This is way better.”

He produces a small, flat object from behind him—a rectangular folder, sealed by a thin, glossy cover. At first, you’re genuinely perplexed. It’s too big to be a normal card, and there’s no way it’s a book, unless it’s some custom print job. The corners are crisp, the material looks like maybe photo paper. Curiosity coaxes you closer.

Catching your confusion, Kuroo grins wider. “Look inside.”

With a hint of skepticism, you slip your fingers under the cover, peeling it back. Inside is a high-quality color print—like a medical scan or something from a research article. Black-and-gray cross-sections and bright neon highlights fill your vision, and as you blink, trying to parse the image, your mouth goes dry. You recognize the shape of a human brain from an fMRI scan: swirling patterns in vivid oranges and reds indicating activated regions.

“Is this… an fMRI?” you breathe, your hand trembling slightly as you lift the print to the light. Definitely an fMRI, your trained eye confirms—distinct slices, certain labeling, the faint text from the imaging software. “Tetsu, why the hell are you giving me…?”

He shifts, almost shy, scratching the back of his neck. “I asked one of the JVA’s partnered sports med facilities to do a little favor for me.” A pause. “A small, borderline unethical favor.”

Your eyes dart back to the vibrant splotches. “The nucleus accumbens,” you whisper, tapping a bright orange blob near the center. “And the hippocampus. They’re… lit up.” You draw in a sharp breath. “These areas activate when you’re—”

“—experiencing motivation, reward, or strong emotional attachment,” he finishes gently, voice hushed. “Like, for instance, thinking about someone you love.”

Your heart stutters so violently you nearly drop the print. “So, you—this is… from your brain?” you manage, your throat suddenly tight.

Kuroo nods, looking almost bashful, which is a jarring contrast to his usual smug confidence. “They scanned me while I was, uh… focusing on a particular mental image.” He glances away, expression uncharacteristically shy. “I figured you’d like the hard data. You being a scientist and all.”

You force yourself to swallow past the dryness in your mouth. “You’re telling me you literally got an fMRI done while thinking about… someone?” Your voice trembles on the last word, and you can’t quite meet his eye.

He exhales a quick laugh. “Uh-huh. Didn’t take long. I just, you know, had to fill out some forms, promise it was for a PR stunt about brain health or something. Then I, well, closed my eyes and pictured—”

“Who?” you interrupt, not even caring that you sound breathless. You’re clutching the fMRI print so hard you can feel the edges biting into your fingertips.

Kuroo’s grin turns downright sheepish, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Take a wild guess, babyface.”

Heat floods your cheeks, your mind flashing back to all the data you’ve read about how the nucleus accumbens is heavily involved in romantic love, addiction, reward. All those nights you taught undergrads about dopaminergic pathways and the hippocampus’s role in forming new memories—specifically, emotional memories.

“You… you were thinking about me?” you ask, voice scarcely above a whisper.

The sheepishness melts into something warmer. “Yeah,” he admits, gaze holding yours. “Obviously.”

For a moment, your living room goes silent—no hum of traffic or whir of appliances registers in your ears, just the thud-thud-thud of your heart as you stare at the bright orange smears on the print. He was literally focusing on you, flooding his mind with thoughts of you, enough to trigger all these hallmark signs of love and emotional resonance in his brain.

“You—” you start, but your voice is shaky. You take a breath, dropping your eyes to the image again. “This is probably the strangest and most… scientifically romantic thing anyone’s ever given me.”

He clears his throat, stepping closer. “I hoped you’d see it that way. I know you’re not into the typical Valentine’s gifts—flowers and cheesy cards. So I thought, you know… I’d show you proof.” He shrugs, but there’s an earnestness in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. “Real, measurable proof that you’re always in my head.”

Overcome, you tear your gaze from the print to search his face, half expecting him to burst into laughter and say it’s another joke. But there’s no sign of teasing. He’s dead serious, a bit vulnerable, and it reminds you painfully of how you’ve known him forever—how under all the arrogance and jokes, he’s always worn his heart right there on his sleeve.

“I—” You can’t find the words, so instead, you lean forward, pressing your forehead gently against his shoulder. The fMRI print stays clutched in your hand at your side, but the rest of you rests against him, trying to steady your breathing.

Kuroo’s arms come up, enveloping you. You feel the softness of his shirt and the warmth of his body, and it’s equal parts comforting and electrifying. “So,” he says softly, voice rumbling through your hair, “was this too much?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “No,” you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up in a shaky smile. “It’s just… a lot to take in.” You let out a small laugh, one that wobbles on the edge of tears. “You literally went out of your way to prove you’re thinking about me with actual neuroscience data. How am I supposed to top that?”

He grins, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You don’t have to. Maybe just trust me when I say you’re stuck in my head, yeah?”

A breathless little chuckle escapes you. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I… can do that.”

For a second, the two of you just stand there, pressed together, the overhead light casting a soft glow on the fMRI print you still clutch in your trembling hand. Then Kuroo’s voice breaks the silence:

“Hey,” he murmurs, “since we’re on the subject of your super-scientific interest in my reward pathways… maybe we can do a little experiment?”

Your brow arches, a half-laugh catching in your throat. “An experiment, huh?”

“Mhm.” He carefully closes his hand around your wrist—the one holding the print—guiding it so you can set it gently on the coffee table nearby. Then he slides his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I wanna see if I can spike some more activity in that region. Because I’m definitely thinking about you right now.”

Your heart stutters. The last time he teased you about wanting to test something, you were six years old, and he was coaxing you into believing that tying your shoelaces together would make you run faster. This, though? Vastly different stakes.

Still, your lips twitch into a wry smile. “Just… kissing me won’t show up on an fMRI unless you, I don’t know, plan on hooking up electrodes or something.”

He smirks, fingers trailing up to brush the line of your jaw. “Nah, no fancy medical tech needed. I just want an empirical result—like, say, a moan or a heartbeat spike.”

A shiver runs through you, and you swear you can feel your pulse jump beneath his hand. “You’re such a nerd,” you whisper, lips quirking. “But sure. For science.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and easy, like the last golden light of sunset spilling through half-open blinds. Then, before you can think too much about it, he closes the distance, tilting his head just slightly as his lips brush against yours in a kiss that is warm, lingering, and unhurried. It steals your breath, not in the way a storm might, but like a tide gently pulling you under, enveloping you in something deep and inevitable.

The taste of him is familiar yet new all at once—there’s the faint trace of the sushi from earlier, or maybe just the memory of it, mingling with something sweeter, something unmistakably him. His fingers ghost along your waist, their presence featherlight but grounding, like a silent promise that he’s here, he’s real. And when he pulls you closer, his body pressing flush against yours, you feel it—the way your heart flutters wildly against your ribs, the way warmth spreads through your chest like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.

For a moment, the world holds its breath. Everything fades away—the hum of the city beyond the window, the soft glow of the overhead lights, even the thoughts that usually crowd your mind. There is only this: the way his lips move with quiet reverence, the quiet hitch in your breath as your fingers curl instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, the subtle shift of his body as he deepens the kiss just enough to make your pulse race.

And then, suddenly, you realize—you don’t need a machine or a calculation to tell you how you feel. The answer is already written in the way your entire chest hums, in the way your skin tingles where he touches you, in the way something inside you feels like it’s come alive, like a supernova has replaced your heart.

God, the astrophysics department should be studying this instead.

When he finally pulls back—foreheads brushing, breath mingling—he searches your eyes, his own half-lidded with affection. “So,” he murmurs, “did I succeed in lighting up your hippocampus?”

Your laugh comes out a little breathless. “If you keep that up,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest, “you might just rewire my entire brain.”

He grins, leaning in again to drop a quick peck at the corner of your mouth. “Good. Then I’ll have all the data I need.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another lingering kiss, feeling the warmth of his smile against your lips. In the back of your mind, you’re distantly aware that your own reward pathways might be exploding, nucleus accumbens glowing neon, hippocampus forging brand-new memories like a bonfire. And for the first time in a long time, you’re okay with letting the feelings have free rein.

Because sometimes, science can capture how people feel, but it can’t fully capture why. And right now, with Kuroo’s arms around you and that precious fMRI print still waiting on the coffee table, you think you’ve finally found your “why” in the easiest, most obvious place of all:

He loves you, and you love him back.

fourteen.

Three hundred and sixty-four days later, Kuroo is helping you move into a new apartment. In Tokyo. Because Columbia offered you the chance to do an exchange with the University of Tokyo before the end of your doctorate studies. For two entire years, slicing open human brains and figuring out what’s going on beneath, because your article published in Neuron made the cover page and you got a fat and juicy grant from the school. Two entire years of being close enough to hear your parents bragging about you in person again, and to have shitty takeout dinner with Kenma after his video game streams but before his corporate mojo. 

And two entire years of getting to live with your boyfriend. Kuroo, your very wonderful boyfriend who you love more than life itself and who you want to be buried with one day. The Kuroo who was the first person you liked at six years old and is still who you like at twenty-six. The Kuroo who you have successfully managed an international relationship with because you’ve already went three years apart without the spark dying. Still, you’re absolutely beaming as you carry in boxes and boxes of clothes, because you always love getting to be with him, in person and in real life, and now you get to every single day.

You can’t hang up on him when he gets annoying anymore, but it’s worth it when he makes you breakfast daily and reaches for you in his sleep. 

You heave another box into the apartment—this one filled with mismatched mugs you’ve collected from half a dozen coffee shops—and set it down with a groan. Kuroo flashes you a grin from across the living room, one hand resting casually on his hip as he surveys the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and hastily labeled luggage.

“You brought an entire suitcase just for shoes,” he points out, amused.

“Hey,” you protest, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, “if I’m living here for two years, I’m not just gonna live in sneakers.”

He ambles over and nudges the box with his foot. “I guess that’s fair—though I’m not carrying that one up another flight of stairs if we end up moving again. You’ll have to bribe Kenma for help.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips free. “Fine, fine. Now, major question: where are we putting our bed?”

He waggles his eyebrows, eyes bright with mischief. “We?” he echoes, as if you haven’t been living together for all of thirty minutes. “I’m pretty sure I get ultimate bed placement rights, given my extensive experience in interior design.”

“Oh, sure, because black-cat-themed t-shirts and old gym hoodies scream ‘interior design mogul.’��

He smirks. “Hey, I’ve got taste.” With that, he gestures expansively toward the center of a wall in the room you’d marked for the bed, where the largest patch of light from the window splashes onto the floor. “I say we put the bed there. We’ll get a queen, obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A queen? As if you’re actually gonna stay on your side.”

His grin turns lazy. “Exactly. I can find you in the expanse.”

“And you wonder why I think you’re annoying.” You toss him a mock exasperated look, which only earns you another chuckle.

“You still chose to live with me,” he points out, that devilish glint in his eyes returning, “because you’re stuck with me, right here.”

“Lucky me,” you tease, while your heart still does that stupid flutter thing at the thought of waking up next to him every day.

He walks over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. It’s such a simple, tender gesture that you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” you say, turning back to break down an empty cardboard box, “it’s Valentine’s Day. Any big plans, or are we just, y’know, gonna eat convenience store chocolates while finishing the bed frame?”

Kuroo shrugs, far too casually for someone who’s obviously up to something. “Mmm, I might have a surprise,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Of course you do. You and your surprises. Is it expensive, by chance?”

His brows lift in feigned innocence. “Depends if you consider a diamond ring expensive.”

You almost drop the box, now flattened and very, very large. “A what now?”

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You heard me.”

He’s kidding. He has to be fucking kidding, right now. He did not spend a small fortune on a rock for your finger.

“Fucking return that,” you blurt instantly, your heart skipping not one but multiple beats. “That’s so expensive. Why would you do that?”

“Well, if I’m gonna get my future wife a ring, I’m gonna make it an investment,” Kuroo replies with an ease that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“Wait—what the… Are you—are you serious?”

He leans closer, lips tilting in a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Your mind whirls, half in shock, half in outright giddy disbelief. You’re suddenly hyperaware of everything: his calm breathing, the faint noises from the street outside, the way the newly painted walls catch the late afternoon light.

“Are you messing with me?” you finally manage.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, and then taps the tip of your nose affectionately. “But trust me, you’ll like it.”

It’s maddening and wonderful all at once, and you can’t help but wonder how on earth you got lucky enough to stumble into a future that looks a whole lot like happiness—especially if it involves a ring.

But for now, you tamp down the frantic beating of your heart and glance at the corner of the room. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Queen bed. Got it.”

He laughs. “We’ll get the perfect one tomorrow. After all, we have at least two years of me latching onto you in my sleep, and then… maybe forever.”

And you roll your eyes, but you know what’ll happen tomorrow. Because of course you’re going to say yes. Because Kuroo Tetsuro has been the love of your life since you were a kid marrying him with dandelions, and because in every version of your imagined future, he’s still there, standing across from you at the aisle, regardless of if it’s a Band-Aid or an engagement ring he’s putting on your finger. Because he still makes every reward center in your brain light up (and because you’re putting that fMRI in your office at the university). 

Honestly, love is a system of chemical reactions. Scanners and artificial intelligence will probably take over the world sooner or later, and the scientific community is getting better and better at understanding the whys. You can measure the dopamine flooding your brain, track the firing of mirror neurons, and map out which regions of your cortex light up at the sound of his laugh. But still, science is flawed, because all the scanning techniques in the world can’t replicate the soft, certain rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, or the way his eyes crinkle in tender amusement when he looks at you.

In this moment, your hippocampus diligently encodes every detail: the slight scuff on the floor, the teasing quirk of his lips, the warm press of his shoulder against yours. The memory crystallizes, even before tomorrow’s promise fully forms, because you already know the answer. You always have.

When you finally pull your gaze away, the last rays of sunlight spill over the spot where you’ll put your new bed—the place you’ll fall asleep entangled in each other’s arms, night after night. You picture the days ahead: lazy mornings that begin with his sleepy kisses, evenings spent side by side, peeling back the layers of the human mind and finding new depths in each other all the while.

And as your heart thrums with a rhythm that science can’t quite pin down—something that defies clean categorization in textbooks—you realize that in this bright, messy, glorious future, every neuron in your body is wired just for him.

And if that’s not proof enough of love, you’re not sure what is.

⨭ closing notes; i love being able to write bc i can create purely self indulgent things like this. i'm a neuroscientist and my bday is nov 14 (exactly 9 months after valentine's day) and im from nyc so this one really has a lil kick to it. did u notice i made it perfectly 14 chapters cause feb 14 lol i rly used my brain for that one. anyway happy day of love!! whether ur celebrating or not, please know i love u all <3

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐒! ❝

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ married life with jjk men ☆ yuuji megumi gojo geto nanami n ino!

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masterlist 💕

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ warnings: fem!reader, reader is a sorcerer, black coded but anyone can read, mentions of sex/pregnancy/kids, mentions of breakups

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: sorry they're kinda short!! i abandoned my ap chem work to do this so pls like it up!😞😞inspired by my personal fantasies lately. sighhh i love my man :3 stay hot!!! 🎀

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 1.1k words, 6.3k characters

yuuji itadori 🌸

BRUHH I LOVE HIM SM HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL

the first out of the bunch to tie the knot

a high school sweetheart kinda vibe like y'all def got married straight out of graduating jujutsu tech

small and intimate wedding, just friends and family in attendance

never shuts up about you when you guys are apart.

"y'know [name]- my wife, me and my wife-, isn't my wife just the coolest?"

megumi and nobara are SICK OF HIM

absolutely REFUSES to go on missions without you cause bby just wants to protect you

when you guys finish missions he always takes you out to eat in tokyo, it's like a lil tradition you guys do 🥲💕

as for dates it's always super spontaneous and he makes sure you never do the same thing twice

but he likes to stay home too!! movie dates at home are his favorite, but he won't tell you since he knows you like going out

HE ALSO PAYS FOR UR STUFF AT THE BEAUTY SUPPLY UGHHH

just follows you around as you fill up the basket and is ready to pay at the register

he's just so happy he's yours.

megumi fushiguro 🌸

not THE last! but one of the last to get married

BUT HE LOVES U SO FREAKING MUCH

it took him a couple years to pop the question, not because he wasn't sure about your relationship, but because he wanted to make sure he was ready before making such a big commitment

no wedding, y'all eloped and went to the courthouse but you had a little ceremony after :3

isn't super vocal about his affections like yuuji, but he does small things

you're his homescreen and his lockscreen is a picture of you two at the courthouse when you guys got married 🩷

he trust your abilities but does secretly fret when you go on missions alone

as for dates he's def a homebody...

he considers any one on one time with you a date...not in a lame way tho!

he just finds the two of you in your home alone to be intimate and comfortable

speaking of home alone...you guys have one kiddo since you guys were a little older when you tied the knot!!

a cute little girl who is y'alls pride and joy. when you told megumi you were pregnant tho he was terrified.

he just didn't want to turn out like his father

but he loves you and your little girl dearly 🩷.

satoru gojo 🌸

THE BLUE EYED PRINCE IS UR HUSBAND??? girl whats ur secret??

anyways, small wedding (he didn't want the elders all up in ur buisness) happy home, and wayyy too many kids

nobody expected you both to have so many kids but you have such a beautiful body!! how could he keep his hands off you?

and besides look at him and tell me he doesn't have a breeding kink...

due to you both being the strongest sorcerers and the kids, your schedules got a bit hectic but he always makes sure you're taken care of

multiple calls day and night, he loves to hear your voice...or moans. (he's hi-key a freak)

RESTURAUNT DATES

we know he loves sweets but you guys always go to nice restaurants, cause he believes you deserves the finest things in life

and he loves his kid so dearly

he's giving me 2 girls, 1 boy energy

from the tea parties, makeovers and late video game nights, he endures it all because of how much he adores them.

he adores you even more tho <3.

suguru geto 🌸

the. perfect. husband.

anything you want? you got it.

hair? done. nails? how much is your set?

definitely had the biggest wedding out of everyone (and the biggest ring)

AND A HUGE HONEYMOON like y'all were gone at least 2 weeks

everyone's fav couple, like nobody ever gets sick of y'all

he absolutely lovesss pda can can't keep his hands to him self. always has a hand on your lower back, arm around your shoulders, and he's just super in tune to you as a whole

wants kids bad, LIKE BAD

and y'all got busy on that honeymoon so you def had one pretty soon after the wedding

when you were pregnant, he spoiled you rotten and he made it his #1 priority to make sure you hadn't a worry in the world

you have 2 beautiful girls and suguru loves them more than life

he tries his best to keep them away from sorcerer life for as long as possible because he knows what it's like to be ostracized because of that life

has no favorites, but if he did it would be you.

kento nanami 🌸

sighhh my old man :)))

last to marry, but the ceremony was beautiful!

intimate but like i said, vv nice

lovesss to spoil you!! and plus we all know he makes hella bank bc he needs someone to spend it on

shopping dates!! mostly consist of him following you around and you just picking out what you like

if you even look at smth he's already at the register

prefers staying at home dates though, like reading together, cooking together, and movie dates!!

minimizes pda in public- perhaps holds your hand maybe

but in private he is so clingyyyy like you have to tear him off you lip to lip, chest to chest, hip to hip, you name it

you practically hung the stars, you could do no wrong in his eyes

is 50/50 on kids???

he's not going to actively ask you to start a family but he also is totally on board if you want to

we all know this man is under a lot of stress so his favorite way to spend time with you is coming home after a long day and cuddling with you 🩷

he's utterly obsessed with you (he's just good at hiding it)

takuma ino 🌸

THIS IS LITERALLY MY HUSBAND GUYS- HEAR ME OUT

high school sweethearts but y'all broke up right before graduation

you guys adored eachother but he was scared of losing you once you guys became sorcerers ಥ_ಥ

but fear not! you guys got back together a year- 2 years later bc he's in love with u

he wanted to propose as soon as you got back together but he has more common sense than that

when he does though it's so cutieee

def private and small, just like the wedding. only your closest friends and family, because he wants everything to be perfect

loves fun dates like laser-tag, go-carts, ect. bc he is just a big little kid

if you do missions together, he is literally that scene from hotel transylvania: "that's my girlfriend!" "your wife, ino..." "my wife? even better!"

i'm not even gonna sugarcoat it y'all get pregnant immediately after

ino is def terrified. you guys are both young and you've barely been married for 3 months

but he pulls it together obv and y'all have a cutie little son <3

just like yuuji, he gushes about his little family to nanami constantly (kento acts like he hates it but he finds it endearing)

he reads to your son for bedtime every night WITHOUT FAIL

he always thinks about how he wouldn't have things any other way.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ i wrote this in like 2 hours and i have a chem quiz tommorow i hope u guys like it 😿😿(pls love me) BUT I GET TO SEE MY MAN TOMMORROW AHHHH. sorry i'm not gonna shut up about himmm. ok bye stay hot ily guys sm!!!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[thebestandrealestever]

more headcannons .

a/n : ion feel like doing warns or sums so js read and find out it ain nun dat bad femblack reader coded as always . i’m so burnt out idk why but anyways, hey mooties iloveu 🤫😉.

miles is a lame nigga who has absolutely zero game or experience so when y’all started talking he is WHIPPPEEEEEDDDDDD. wanting to do everything right. so surprisingly enough he went to his dad for on how to ask u to be his gfn, he admires the love his parents have.

u are a supermodel in his eyes, u do a ec like dancing or play an instrument? he thinks ur the best at it, he thinks ur the prettiest and coolest girl in the entire world, he thinks ur the smartest and really the only girl for him, this boy really loves his gfn.

miles is always looking out for u, makes sure the doors are locked, closes ur tabs and puts your phone on the charger, turns your tv off, ect. he just wants to make sure your straight

when he liked you he was always trying to impress you, it was short lived when you told him that you loved his personality.

he stole a watch for you so you could connect with his friends

you were miles realization that he needs to and is capable of making connects in his own dimension as miles, not spiderman . he usually gets sensitive thinking about how much you opened his eyes and made him feel heard in his own world.

it’s truly all about the little things with him, rubbing your hand with his thumb, waited on third date to kiss you for first time, asked some of your friends about things you liked, draws you everywhere always, sending you voice messages instead of text. and the fact he doesn’t understand why that’s such a big deal for u drives u insane.

didn’t know how to deal with your period at first so he asked his mom, he went out and bought your favorite everything.

thinks he’s the funniest nigga ever when he puts on your lashes and wigs

looks at your highlight’s at least twice a day because ur beautiful

can’t go to sleep mad at you or have you mad at him, if you guys argued he would be there with food and a million kisses to make up for lost contact then have a conversation about whatever the situation was. one time the argument was so bad you didn’t talk for 3 days “hey ma, i got chick-fil-a” he said while taking his coat off and putting the food down while trying to eye you out in the complete darkness, you just looked at him still upset. “i’m sorry (name), i shouldn’t have said that or raised my voice.” he sighed turning on your lamp to look at you. “i’m sorry too, i shouldn’t have talked to you like that. i missed you miles, we don’t go days without talking to each other” you said pulling him into a big hug, he rubbed your back and kissed your head. “i know, i’m sorry baby. let’s talk about instead of yelling at each other from now on okay? i don’t think i could do this again.”

loveeeessss it when u give him messages or shower with him (NOT LIKE THAT.) after a long ass day of being spiderman.

thought he was gonna die when you went on vacation.

when you’re stressed or he’s stressed you guys go on the highest roof he can find and just talk to eachother.

wants to be held like a baby in your arms burying his face in the crook of your neck laying his weight on you.

squeezed your hand so hard you couldn’t feel it after when he got his ears pierced and lemme tell u it looked so good.

rubs your feet and legs while you tell him about whatever problems you had.

willingly risk his phone blowing up to be on the phone with u while u sleep

okkkkk byeeee

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #18

Operation: Birthday Takeback

Dev's birthday!! Look at him. For some reason, the fact that his drones are here in 2D is funny to me... He's a little cartoon guy. Hazel is very cute.

I have a note here that says Dev's birthday is separated from Founder's Day by 9 years, 7 months, 14 days. So, he's had Peri for 4.5 months?

-> That is not too shabby in a universe where it's rare [in the OG series] to keep godkids for a year. Nice job, Dev!

...... Do you think they'll bring back rule-free fairyversary muffins (There WAS a full movie about it), because I have a pretty good idea what he'd wish for. Smells like trouble...

Okay, let's go! ... Peri does not think his parents are cool. And Dev is SHOCKED they came over. Also, he has no idea what to do with this much attention. He's SO red.

Hm. Peri looks really unimpressed... Did he already give Dev every birthday wish he wants and now it'll be awkward when Hazel gives a gift, because what can she possibly give that Peri didn't?

-> Dev still seems delighted Hazel's here! I think her friendship is the best gift :)

-> I do not think Peri knows enough about Dev's interests to surprise him, especially since they weren't getting along in the Dimmsonian episode because Dev was frustrated Peri couldn't "make a better cupcake" and Peri was frustrated Dev couldn't figure out what flavor he wanted.

-> Peri gives me "by the book" learning vibes; he's frustrated Dev doesn't listen to him and is harder to work with than the theoretical child he had in mind, I think.

-> Okay yeah, Peri is having NONE of this. Okay, Mr. Jealous Clingy Boyfriend Vibes...

Aw, Cosmo is trying to cheer Dev up... Peri, you wanna... jump in, or...? No?

Also, I'm enjoying watching what at this moment in time seems to be a healthy friendship and/or romance develop. I'm all for tormenting children, but this is nice too.

Peri...

Also, Dev thinks Hazel is like, the coolest person ever. And Peri is SO jealous Dev would rather hang out with his human friend than with a magical fairy. That's hysterical.

Something something, Juandissimo spent 3 seasons getting fired and bounced around Fairy World because he couldn't stop crying over how much he loved and missed Remy and finally broke Da Rules to return his memories, something something, Peri came here for a good time and he is honestly feeling so attacked right now.

I don't know what I'm trying to say, but... u get it. Two spoiled bullies, two very different dynamics. It's not the kid; it's the willingness of the fairy to meet them where they are... and love unconditionally.

Local celebrity kid who spent his Spellementary School life getting fawned over never developed the social skills to make friends and doesn't know how to deal with people viewing him as a flawed three-dimensional person.

For some reason I'm getting flashbacks to the end of "School of Crock" when Poof referred to his classmates as "his friends and Foop."

Okay, I thought Dev would freak out (/negative) over seeing boots since his dad literally unveiled a statue of him kissing his beloved boots while disregarding his son, but... he likes them! Despite that emotional blow, he is a Dimmadome to his core.

-> Dev getting his very first pair of little cowboy boots with tiny spurs 'fic, please.

-> Toddler Dev trying on his dad's or grandpa's boots 'fic, please.

Dev: Why didn't YOU think of getting me [rocket boots], pickle-brain Peri? Peri: Because my job is to grant you wishes! Not to read your mind!

Yikes... It's been a long few months for them.

Also, Cosmo and Wanda choose this moment not to overstep on the parenting relationship here and that's fantastic. Sorry, Peri- You're on your own for this one.

-> Wanda's totally willing to get Peri out of here if he needs it. So... she probably did notice Dev being snippy with him, but actively chose not to step in since Peri told her not to overstep in "Lost in Fairy World." Interesting.

Hm. I wonder if Peri has an animal form? I imagine he takes the form of tech or something that wouldn't catch Dale's eye. He probably sleeps in Dev's bedroom though (and/or "Hassle in the Castle"-esque pocket space).

-> Peri in his debut: /confidence oozing from every pore

-> Peri 4.5 months later: my crops are dying. I'm crops.

I love this family.

Though I feel like... it puts a weird level of stress or professionalism on Peri and Dev. I don't really have the words for it, but something something, maybe Peri's first assignment shouldn't have been so close to his parents because they are clearly struggling to let him speak or handle things himself. It's nice he can ask advice, but I feel like if they're around too often and Peri defers to them, that blurs lines and will be really confusing for Dev.

Who do you listen to if your fairy is telling you "Yes" and his parents - who have no technical authority over you but have ambiguous semi-authority in your fairy's mind - are telling you "No?" That's workplace tension waiting to happen.

And Peri is clearly trying to set his workplace boundaries - we saw that in "Lost in Fairy World" especially - but Cosmo and Wanda keep kinda undermining him and bringing family vibes into work, and he's also grown now, so... Yikes. I love them, but that's rough, buddy.

Forget that- Is that Vicky?

?? Vicky is still young? Or is this Vicky's daughter? MARK, what did you do? I know you literally have clones of her, sir.

I mean, I guess it's not out of the question she'd look the same years later- she had the same hair when she was 5 back in "The Switch Glitch" and she clearly likes that style, but I wasn't expecting it, especially since she's probably close to Dale's age and he's clearly beefed up (and I think gotten taller). Huh. Well, all righty.

The golden cowboy boots on display with the "In honor" plaque are not doing anything to disprove my tentative theory that Doug Dimmadome has passed on and that's why Dale is so clingy towards his boots.

Pfft, the "Icky Vicky" song is still a thing.

SLKJDF, I'm amazed they carried through with Vicky being the one to put Dale to work at the lemonade stand. I'm still confused as to whether she started it at age 9 or took over from someone else.

DEV DOESN'T KNOW HER???

Dale, you are a terrible dad. How can he be so bitter about his past and tell his son horror stories about Vicky, and/or not keep constant watch for her? I can't believe he hasn't sued her into oblivion.

-> It's because he doesn't tell Dev stories unless it's to gripe about how he needs to pull his weight because "My life was so hard when I was your age," isn't it?

I like how Dev is trying to lightly call to Peri for help without attracting attention or moving his lips. Geez, man- That's gotta be so stressful when you're trying to rely on someone new to help you and they don't show up. He didn't have him in the Hocus Poconos and he can't get him out here when he needs him. This is gonna be great on his trust issues, I'm sure.

Peri looking at his dad vs. Wanda looking at her sexy husband:

Dev will hang with his friends, but he's not putting down his stuff.

This next face he makes (without words) to signal "Hey, I'm doing my best" is so funny to me. He's like. "Yeah, I don't have to say anything; she knows what's going on here."

... I'm confused. What is up with Wanda and Cosmo right now? Why are they leaving notes to Dale that out Hazel as a godkid and them as fairies (who are disguised as humans)?

I get that they're not thinking ahead and are spelling out notes while they talk to each other, but surely they should know better than to leave evidence, especially after they saw Cookie get 10k years in prison for revealing the existence of Fairies and we know Hazel could be separated from them. Peri clearly knows this is a bad idea. Utterly incomprehensible to me.

"Icky Vicky" remix!!! Also, Dev handles rocket boots way better than Kevin Crocker did.

Dev "It's not a children's party; I'm a BIG KID!" Dimmadome - Dude, you just turned 10. I mean... That is double digits and you're just a little guy, so... good job.

I'm so glad I was right and that Dev isn't allowed to drink lemonade. That's hilarious. I'm obsessed. He wants it so much...

A.J., Poof, and Crocker sure changed a lot considering Vicky looks the same.

I love Dev covering Hazel's eyes so she doesn't see the partially naked money-covered mural of his dad.

The fact that this is even in the show is hilarious; it says so much to me. Dale "Obsessed with flaunting where I am now in life" & Dev "Instantly doing damage control so my BFF doesn't feel uncomfy or think I'm weird and ditch me" Dimmadome.

....... I said BFF, but I'm pretty sure Dev said Trev was his BFF in Episode 1 and now I'm wondering why we haven't seen them together at all. Hm. I'm gonna have to circle back to Episode 1 later; I might be misremembering.

Their names are Dev and Trev... Where is this silly duo? We're bein' ROBBED!

Peri's grown out of calling Wanda "Mama"- just "Mom." Good note for me in case I want to write something in line with New Wish's canon specifically, since I've always used "Mama" in 'fics even when he's older.

Peri watching his parents make innuendo jokes:

Oh, INSTANT panic on their end at the news of Vicky in the house. More so than with Crocker!

50 years of deep-seeded trauma... This would be a fantastic title card or redraw. Maybe I'll draw it someday.

Cannot believe Peri has been whiplashed back and forth by being snarked at, coddled, reminded of his Hocus Poconos trauma, and now he's facing Vicky trauma all within a couple episodes. It's been a long 4 months.

Peri @ Vicky: "She's REAL!? I thought I imagined her as a baby!!!" is he ok.

-> This is very funny to me because it plays into my headcanon of Poof growing up to forget most of his time with Timmy, including his name, and beating himself up about it.

I don't think Peri has gone one episode without going full panic mode over something. This kid's not lasting long as a godparent. Dev's gonna crack him like a nut and then Jorgen's going to wipe the floor with him.

omg, Dev needs his godparent to stand up for him against Vicky and Peri's having a MELTDOWN and hiding behind his mom. Um???

Holy cow, I've never seen him break like this, except maybe when he gained his fear of the dark in "Lights Out." That includes his many brushes with death and when Fairy Court unraveled his existence from the timeline.

-> I cannot believe I made a joke about how I wasn't sure how things could get more traumatizing for Peri than having to face the Hocus Poconos and yet here we are. Yeah, he's gonna put in his two weeks' notice like... tomorrow.

He ditched his godkid! Peri!!! You are a grown-up now! You can't do that!!

Okay, so Vicky is as tall as Cosmo and Wanda, so she can be an adult, sure. Also, Cosmo and Wanda finally getting the chance to stand up to her <3 I don't remember her tormenting them that much but maybe it's secondhand spooks.

-> Peri's meltdown continues in the background. That is some DEEP trauma.

Even if this was a non-Vicky person, would Peri be mentally equipped to deal with it? Because he's reacting badly for a guy whose memories are so wobbly, he can't remember if they were real. He's not there for Dev and he clearly has some issues to work out.

-> I think he needs more godparent training; he is NOT ready.

(Full moon!)

Ooh, Dev feels like his dad replaced him with Hazel... Dev out here like "Wait a sec, the reason my dad's not been around in 4.5 months is because apparently he's obsessed with you?" Oh boy... Those three expressions just tell it all (The horrified realization, the despair, the anger...)

omfg, Dev just found out Hazel "wished to become friends with him" ("I wish I knew why he acted so mean") and he feels like he's not good enough to be liked without a wish and everything was a lie, and he is CRASHING and screaming. Oh, geez louise. Terrible job, everyone!!! Everybody loses!!

I really like this night city skyline. It's so pretty. I love this decompression scene. Really good storytelling move and also nice to look at. I want to write with these vibes.

Man, Hazel's comforting herself and turning to Cosmo and Wanda for support (and making plans of how to make her evening better after getting yelled at).

I bet I know who's NOT about to turn to his fairy for support~

Dev: And where tf were you!?!?

"I was calling for you; why didn't you answer me? Why is no one ever there? Why does everyone else 'matter more' than me, even the people who are supposed to look out for me?"

Peri: D':

-> I like how the poof clouds still have words in them. Also, the scribbling scene is really well-done; Dev is losing his marbles.

Oh man... Thaaat's a big mess. Welcome home, child trauma show <3

Also, fanfic timeline notes under the cut:

[Contains a small timeline spoiler for Along the Cherry Lane, which is a 'fic I won't be starting for a long time. This is already in my Timmy's Timeline notes from the sideblog, though, so if you've already seen it, it's nothing new]

Wanda said it's been a "couple decades" since her encounters with Vicky. So... is Vicky like, 36?

I could've sworn Vicky and Dale were close to the same age; he has a teen body design in "Nectar of the Odds."

His age might've been adjusted though, or at least he may have started at a very young age. He told Dev in "Stanky Danky" that "when he was his age, he was working in a factory making lemonade every Saturday" and missed all the Saturday cartoons. This is Dev's 10th birthday, so maybe the thought here is "Dale started at age 9 or 10, then stopped at age 16 or 17."

If that's true, then yes, he's Vicky's age.

So. In that case, that screenshot of distraught Dev I put up in my "Battle of the Dimmsonian" post and captioned as "This is probably how Dale used to look at Vicky and then she kicked him down the stairs" is probably age-accurate too, and that's even worse.

Let's say it's been 2 decades and Dale was 16 then, now 36. That would mean he had Dev... Let's say around age 26 or 27.

-> That would jump us from 2002 [in my 'fics] to Dev being born around 2012, with New Wish taking place more or less around 2022. I think I'm okay with that- We saw in "Fearless" that the Enrichment Academy's most recent champion win was 2019 and they win every few years, so that makes perfect sense.

I think my 'fic Along the Cherry Lane ends with Tammy and Tommy close to age 10 in 2020? Let me see...

Riddle's Cloudlands AU notes: - Timmy parts ways with Cosmo and Wanda on October 15th, 2010 - Chloe parts ways with Cosmo and Wanda the night of March 20th, 2011. - Tammy is born September 2013 & Tommy February 2016 - Tammy and Tommy receive Cosmo and Wanda as godparents in 2023 (He's 8 or 9, she's 10 or 11)

Hmm... That's riding really close to Hazel's timeline. New Wish will probably be over by the time I'm done with my current longfics and ready for Along the Cherry Lane, so I won't worry about it for now, but it'll be nice to have these notes later in case I do want to try fitting this into my canon. We'll see if we get any hints about Tammy or Tommy in future episodes. I'd love to see Hazel meet Timmy with his kids, though I doubt we'll see that.

-> I also would not be opposed to kicking "Channel Chasers" out of New Wish's canon because it's not an episode I have attachment to and, well... we don't have flying cars or robot babysitters yet.

... If I were to keep everything, I feel like I'd rather take New Wish as canon and then put "Channel Chasers" after it (even if that violates the "20 years later" label) than commit to "Channel Chasers" and kick Hazel away. I was dreading worldbuilding a society that gained flying cars and robots within 20 years anyway, so I wouldn't be mad.

-> But I'll have to decide how much New Wish I want to incorporate into my canon, seeing as I usually prioritize the OG series in Cloudlands AU above spin-off media. Hmm.

Again, I won't be finishing this 'fic for a long time, so New Wish might be over by then and I'll have more information to work with.

Thanks for reading my liveblog!

[mggssocks]

pov: ur a a-list singer/songwriter and actress. You were in glass onion w/ Madelyn who you ended up becoming good friends with and drew has a giant crush on you and you just pretty much tease him lol <3 (whitneypeak on Instagram as fc but most pics are from Pinterest)

madelyncline

liked by madisonbaileybabe, drewstarkey and 1,728,269 others

madelyncline happiest of birthdays to the ramen noodle lover that always happens to be asleep yourinstagram <3

view all 6,918 comments

yourinstagram why would u post slide 4

↳ madelyncline ur best picture tbh

↳ yourinstagram ykw ur so right

madisonbaileybabe gonna need financial compensation for the amount of times it took to get that first picture

↳ yourinstagram lunch on me tm

*drewstarkey followed you*

*****

yourinstagram

liked by zendaya, drewstarkey and 2,365,709 others

view all 15,863 comments

ynfan01 an EMMY AND GRAMMY WINNER SO ICONIC OF YOU

zendaya beyond proud of you

↳ yourinstagram ty, Z. love u.

madelyncline you’ve officially reached 2/4 of the egot status I love that for you

↳ yourinstagram stawpppp 🥹

arianagrande 🫶🏼🫧

↳ yourinstagram ty, love you and miss u soooo much

***

Madelyn’s Story:

Drew responded to Madelyn’s phone but you had it because you were taking pictures of her.

drewstarkey: tell her I’m single

You showed Madelyn and the two of you laughed about it.

*yourinstagram followed drewstarkey*

*****

Madisonbaileybabe

liked by jonathandavissofficial, yourinstagram and 1,285,092 others

madisonbaileybabe long car rides and lullaby’s

view all 3,938 comments

baileyfan91 PLS MORE S3 BTS CONTENT

yourinstagram why’s the sleepy guy kinda.. 🫦

↳ madisonbaileybabe please don’t get him started

↳ obxfan62 Y/N AND DREW?!?!&&:@&,$

ynfan13 STAY AWAY FROM HER RAFE

hichasestokes Drew’s head just got abnormally big

****

yourinstagram

liked by drewstarkey, carlaciagrant and 3,726,517 others

yourinstagram MET ‘23

view all 12,297 comments

ynfan19 you looked INCREDIBLE

drewstarkey 😍

↳ madelyncline stay away from my friend

↳ yourinstagram i’m a rebel so we now have to hang out, Drew.

↳ drewstarkey of course

drewfan87 not them lowkey flirting 😭

ynfan36 no cause why do I ship..

****

obxfanupdates

341 likes

obxfanupdates drew hanging out with y/n via Madelyn’s story

view all 79 comments

drewfan09 stopp Ik they’re hanging out just to mess with Madelyn but they’d actually be so cute

obxfan1222 they’re messing around but I think drew actually has a crush on her tho lol

↳ rudyfan87 who doesn’t though LMAO

ynfan028 no they were joking in the comments but I didn’t think they’d ACTUALLY hang out LMAOA

↳ obxfan76 ME NEITHER

*****

*3 weeks later*

drewstarkey

liked by nick_v_cirillo, madelyncline and 1,697,354 others

drewstarkey just in case you didn’t know, y/n l/n is the coolest person ever (this totally isn’t her making this post btw)

view all 9,726 comments

yourinstagram oh, me? Gee golly how sweet of you, Joseph!

↳ madisonbaileybabe now you know…

madelyncline ykw, i change my mind. I completely see why the two of you would be perfect.

ynfan198 it’s happening! It’s happening! Everybody stay calm! STAY F$@KING CALM!!

drewfan54 the legal name.. oh they’re fucking for sure 💀

↳ drewfan827 pls don’t put that image in my head 😭😭😭

***

yourinstagram

liked by madisonbaileybabe, carlaciagrant and 2,087,562 others

yourinstagram i really love drewstarkey he really is the best and I’m so in love with him (this definitely is not drew typing this caption just so you know)

view all 14,247 comments

arianagrande ???

↳ ynfan018 the confusion she must be experiencing rn 😭😭

↳ rudyfan91 she’s not in the OBCU (the outer banks cinematic universe) so she wouldn’t understand

dojacat fart

↳ yourinstagram yup

obxfan71 not him tagging himself as a personal shoutout 💀

ynfan61 I need to see where this goes

↳ drewfan09 the slow burn we didn’t know we needed

[1-800reki]

❝random atsushi n. headcanons!❞

summary: Atsushi and his random antics <33

pairings: atsushi x female reader | atsushi x girl

a/n: atsushi is so cutie!

• Alright, first off, Atsushi's hair is a common attribute and makes him stand out. So OF COURSE he asks you to brush it and keep it nice. Usually he wouldn't let people touch his hair like that, but you're the only exception.

• He probably dates people shorter than him but if you're taller than him, your relationship is like Felix and Calhoun 😭

"Look at my amazing gorgeous coolest partner ever!!" He says as he kisses your cheek.

• If you and him were in a modern au, all his social media bios would be matching with yours, or the 'taken by (your initial)'

• If he had a love language it would either be quality time or acts of service.

• He's the type of lover to intertwine your pinkies together instead of hand holding.

• He would get flustered pretty quickly from even a light touch of PDA.

• He's most definitely the small spoon when cuddling even if you're shorter than him. Especially when he's stressed.

• He would love getting head pats!

• He would take any chance to compliment you, whether it be about looks, your hobbies or your personality.

• If you were having a bad day he would just know instantly. He would get all of your favorite things and stay with you till you feel better.

• Before you start your period, Atsushi buys your favorite items in bulk, so when you do start, you're shocked he remembered.

"'tushi.. you remembered!"

"I guess I just took note.." He says, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.

• He can comfort you real good. Like he sees one tear fall from your eye? He's already hugging you and brought tissues and your favorite snacks. As much affection as he gives you, you surely return it. One day, he cried silently from an argument with you. You walked to his room to him under blankets, sniffling. He cries harder when you feels your touch, feeling guilty for his actions. You gently kiss his head and shush his cries, reassuring that everything is alright.

• His photo album is 90% of you, 10% of memes, and 1% of important screenshots (passwords, emails, shit like that)

• Atsushi DEFINITELY reposts those relationship videos or couple imagines.

• when he's with his friends, he rambles about you nonstop.

Random: "did you guys see the new football game-"

Atsushi: "MY GIRLFRIEND JUST POSTED!!"

Random: "uhm.. anyways-"

• His favorite spots to kiss you is your cheek and nose. He believes that every kiss with him should be special, and he doesn't find the need to be a perv when it comes to kissing.

• DON'T MAKE MEAN JOKES WITH HIM- he'll cry and probably ignore you. >:(

• In his sleep, he probably sleeptalks, and it's either about you or something about missing his parents.. I don't know.

• he's never afraid to admit that he's thinking about you or missing you.

• Expect your room to become his room. After letting him in, he's totally invaded it (in a good way!)

• He listens to Laufey and Tyler the Creator but might indulge in your music taste from time to time >:)

• His favorite way to unwind from a work day would be cuddling with you. His favorite position to cuddle would be intertwining. He just loves the feeling of your body intertwined with his.

• If he texts you he definitely uses the kaomoji's mostly :3, ╰(▔∀▔)╯, and (＾▽＾).

• If you can cook, he loves loves LOVES your cooking. He especially loves the Ochazuke (green tea over rice) you make for him. He'll eat it up like it's a 5 star meal !!

• Don't ever underestimate Atsushi's love. He will literally go to hell and back for u, do not play 😭😭

a/n: I'm trying to get my friend to start bsd and she doesn't fw it 😕 what the freak

[asher-agere]

Hmmm thinkin 'bout agere AnHaru

They're like,,,, both on wildy different energy levels when they regress

But inlike to think when they're together,,, An manages to draw some energy out of Haruka that lets her be a bit cheeky and mischievous with An

And they both gets to all sort of baby crime

Otay byee, hope u have a nice day <3

- 💫

I love this! I don’t see enough AnHaru content honestly… They’re so cute! Also this request made me say “Oops all babies!” Out loud. Like… Like the oops all berries? Captain crunch? I’m funny guys I promise

Little An + Little Haruka

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ °ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

ᡣ𐭩 I think they’d actually be pretty similar in age ranges, An being 3-6 and Haruka being 2-5. HOWEVER. Age range does not equal energy level. An always wants to go go go! She wants to yell and play and jump and run! Meanwhile Haruka just wants to chew on a plushy… Wait no a pacifier. Totally a pacifier. Yup. Plushies are just more convenient since they’re already usually in her arms! She just likes watching things and nibbling on her plushy

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི An however, she doesn’t want Haruka to just be sitting around! She’ll run over and grab Haruka by the arm, pulling her along! Sometimes Haruka struggles to stay upright when she walks, so they hold hands! An is super duper coordinated (Coordinated enough to walk) so she can guide her friend and help her out! Haruka is just like a confused little puppy, she’s more than happy to follow An around! But… What are they doing exactly?

ᡣ𐭩 I think baby Haruka can get distracted very easily. She’ll happy follow An around and play games with her and all that fun stuff! But if A turns her attention to a caregiver and suddenly no one is paying attention to little Haruka? She’ll just sit right down on the ground and start nibbling on her shirt! An attempts to offer comfort by patting her on the head, and while it isn’t nice and soothing like when a caregiver does it, Haruka still appreciates it a whole lot!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི An loves playing games or doing anything competitive! They’ll compete to see who has the best drawing, they’ll show off their stuffies to see who has the best ones, they’ll even compete to see who has the coolest outfits! Caregivers of course have to be careful to not pick a favorite. It’s best to just not pick a winner, it means they feel the need to compete in another way! They keep competing and competing until eventually they start getting sleepy… Whoever stays up longer is the final winner! Mostly Haruka wins actually, An uses all her energy running around hehe

ᡣ𐭩 An has more experience singing and Haruka has more experience dancing, I think their baby interests though are opposites! An wants to learn all these cool dances while Haruka doesn’t want to move, but she can babble out some song lyrics! Haruka gets set on a pillow throne to happily babble her songs while An dances in front of her! Mainly doing spins and jumps, but if she’s feeling like 5-6 sometimes she does cartwheels even! She cries a lot of she accidentally gets hurt though…

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི Speaking of getting hurt… An gets hurt a lot. She’s trying to be careful! She just has soo much energy and not enough coordination! I think she cries a lot at first, her caregiver is very thankfully to this alerting them something is wrong. But once someone is around she’s a tough kid! She’ll never admits it hurts. There can be tears running down her face and she’ll just wipe them away and sniffle claiming “Is fine… ‘M fine! S’op!” Poor little Haruka wants to comfort her friend! She’ll give An a little plushy and place her own pacifier into An’s mouth. Is this unsanitary? 100x yes. However… They’re together enough that if one’s sick the other will get sick anyway. Sure sharing a pacifier doesn’t help, but is it really doing that much harm? Caregivers still try to encourage not doing this. Haruka doesn’t use her pacifier much anyway though, she’d rather munch on a plushy

ᡣ𐭩 An loves playing and just generally being outside! Haruka will be sitting inside watching cartoons and suddenly An is pulling on her sleeve “Haru! Haru! Ou’side!” Then off they go. An also loves praise! She’s the type to go up to a caregiver like “‘M cute! Rightttt?” After An gets her praise Haruka just looks up in wonder. Those words sounded so nice and warm! She wants them too! Non-verbal baby though, so she just stares super politely then gets all giggly happy when she does get praised!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ °ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I love these two! Also for my PJSK players… Someone geek out with me about the On & On master chart PLEASE. I’m obsessed! This is worse than my obsession with the CR詠ZY master chart!

[tinytinybumblebee]

STARES AT YOU WITH MY AUTISTIC EYES.... so u like bg.3,,, do you have any particular headcanons :0

INTENSELY STARES BACK W/ MY AUTUSTIC EYES,,,mayhaps

Okay,,,,,Mama Karlach is CANON. She literally calls herself "Mama K" when you're starting to explore the mountain pass!!!

-After Astarion whines about how sore his feet are getting from all the walking, she offers to carry him 😭 (ofc she can't because,,,ball of fire but, adorable image)

-Karlach is definitely a flip! Coolest mama and wildest big sister around!

-(let's pretend she doesn't burn ppl pre-getting to baldur's gate ) she loves to scoop up her tiny one's into tight bear hugs at random times (girly has cuteness aggression and NEEDS to hug her babies when she sees her tiny one doing literally anything)

-Tiny Karlach is sooo curious. She needs to know everything about anything! Definitely the kiddo who will see an owlcub and ask her carer 10000 questions about it ("Can it fly? Where does it sleep? Do they get bedtime stories??")

-Tiny Karlach also wants to be friends with everyone! She is the tiny one who will spot another tiny one who is shy/being excluded, and she will run over to them and start talking to them and ask if they wanna play!

-Tiny Astarion is the most(tm), incredibly fussy and will throw tantrums at the slightest change in his routine (but, he truly doesn't mean it from malicious, poor little guy is just,,,going through it emotionally and fussing is his way of getting those yucky feelings out)

-Although Astarion doesn't sleep, when he's tiny, he'll beg for bedtime stories (especially the ones where his carer places his name into the stories)

-Shadowheart is the cool, goth big sister who is probably practicing spells on you, but she makes it sound fun and nothing humongously dangerous! She'll tell you stories and lets you hang out in her tent (just, don't touch her stuff with your baby hands xD)

-She has a secret teddy bear she cuddles at night (but will always deny it because big girls don't carry teddies!)

-Lae'zel calls tiny ones "hatchlings"

- She's,,,learning not to tell her tiny one to "punch their throat" whenever her tiny one comes to her saying another tiny one was mean. But, hey, that's what she was told as a youth, so girly doesn't quite understand the whole "gentle parenting" xD

-Halsin is a big papa bear, literally. He'll transform into his bear form when his tiny one is sleepy so that they'll have something cozy n' warm to cuddle up with ♡

-The best at storytelling. His voice is gentle but fun and makes the stories so vivid (sometimes even adding some druid magic is add effects!)

Aaaa that's all i have rn but 10000% there will be more hehehe

[sporklebm]

OC-TOBER DAY 14 INSPIRATION MY SKRUNKLY FRENDS THEY ALL ARE IMMENSELY PRECIOUS TO ME AND INSPIRE ME AND ARE THERE FOR ME AND I LOVE THEM VERY VERY MUCH I LOOK UP TO LEMON SO MUCH I DONT KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS MY RESPECT FOR HIM, HES JUST SO DEDICATED AND PASSIONATE ITS JUST NGHH :EXPLODES: HE CODES, HE DRAWS< HE ANIMATES< HE YOUTUBES< MUSICS< GRRR THE GUY DOES EVERYTHING. YOUR SO CREATIVE AND I LOVE UR HUMOUR. FUNNY PISS CAT FTW DELI IS LIKE THE COOLEST, SWEETEST CAT I KNOW. I LOVE SHARING BRAINROT MUSH AND HIS KIND WORDS ARE COMFORTING <3 THANK U DELI FOR CHECKING IN ON ME REGULARLY I REALLY APPRECIATE IT,,,, MARBS!!!!!!! YOURE SO EMOTIONALLY MATURE.. YOUR ADVICE HAS ALWAYS BEEN HELPFUL TO ME, ALSO I LOVE YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY, I LOVE YOUR MUSIC AND YOURE SO TALENTED. ALSO UR A PRETTY REGULAR CLIENT FOR MY COMMS SO THANKS FOR THE MONEY LOL. LEGEND IS REALLY AWESOME, HE MAKES MUSIC AND IS HELPING ME MAKE THE VERY THING THAT THIS FRIENDGROUP HAS INSPIRED ME TO CREATE!!! DESK WRECK.! MY LITL OC PROJECT!! I WOULD NOT BE HERE TODAY WITHOUT YOU HOMIE, THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, PLEASE DONT BE AFRAID TO BOTHER ME MORE <3 LASTLY ITS NEO!!!! I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY.,, YOURE MY BEST FRIEND AND IM SO GLAD WE MET, I WILL CRY, I AM CRYING, I AM TEARY EYED TYPING THIS, .. I LITERALLY TEXTED YOU A COUPLE HOURS AGO WHEN I WAS ABOUT TO HAVE A BREAKDOWN, YOU DID NOT HESITATE TO BE THERE FOR ME< THANK YOU,,,,, YOURE ONE OF THE FIRST FEW PEOPLE I THINK OF TO CALL WHEN IM SAD AND EXPLODE AT YOU WHEN IM EXCITED ABT STUFF.. LITERALLY NONE OF YOU HAVE TUMBLR BUT I WILL SEND IT TO YALL OFC... THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

[lilacthebooklover]

MUTUAL APPRECIATION JUMPSCARE <3

@sharky-the-idiot the silliest of guys <333 you make my day every day!! you're so fun to talk to & such an awesome person <3<3 never forget how incredible you are! >:D

@weedkillercentral the OG ao3 buddy <3 you're funny, creative & absolutely wonderful, it's an honour to call you my friend!! wishing your arm a speedy recovery and you a phenomenal rest of your week <33

@theinkbunny the supremest of honorary little brothers, absolute legend. your facts & photos are always so so interesting, i love messaging you!! have an incredible day/night handsome boy <33

@goldmoth82 the awesomest of artists, i actually love you so much /p thank you for always being there to chat with me!! you are talented & lovely & absolutely stunning. ily bestie <3<3

@jshubofchaos the coolest of friends!! i simultaneously feel like i know you really well and like you're an absolute enigma (pacman?? wise old elf??? willingly opening yourself to anon shippers???) /pos <3

@rainrayne the most supportive person i know! you are insanely creative, WAY too nice to me, and an absolute pleasure to be mutuals with!! hope you're sleeping very well right now <3<3

@canadianketchup toppest of gs! i've known you for years, here's hoping i'll know u for many many more!! you're an icon, thank u for being my friend <33

@p0patochisps smartest of fellow warriors in the hellscape that is gcses!! we stand united & powerful, we are going to smash the rest of them and walk out with 9s <33 we got this!! thanks for all your "good luck" messages!! :DD

@ybnavibeswithbats1122 most consistent of lifesavers! your ideas are banging, your reminders are more helpful than i can say, and i'm rlly happy to know u!! <3

@charismabee coolest of older sisters! can't wait to see u again this summer jpr <33 thanks for all the fun memories & awesome times so far!! talking w you is always such a blast <3<3

@shine-n-bright sweetest of hero fans <33 i thriveee on your magnificent art, and you are consistently one of the absolute loveliest people i know :DD keep being spectacular!!!

@weltato angstiest of writers!! it was such a blast trading #traumatised paul matthews back and worth with you hdjkfhkd, your writing never ceases to amaze and i always love seeing you on my dash <3<3

i have soooo many more incredible mutuals but u guys were the first that came to mind heheh, thanks you all for being my friends!! just felt like letting you all know that you are very very appreciated & i think you're amazing!! speak to u later :DD

[undeniablymadoka]

Intro !!! please be nice to me and ill be nice to u

Names: Jade, Jack, Zain, and my legal name but I'm legally not allowed to tell u i run the @a-silly-1ore-acc READ THE INTRO AND WARNINGS (it looks edgy as shit rn so be patient!!!) im a POC (black)

Pronouns: any and all :3 I'm aroace

i draw sometimes !!

*top interest *old interest *i don't know much but its kool interests: computer/mobile/any other device errors, true crime, puella magi madoka magica, girls last tour, IHNMAIMS, All tomorrow, body horror books in general, House of leaves, (not much rn ill find/remember more)

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i don't have any diagnosed reading problems but if u type with special quirks ill take longer to respond (i don't require a translation) maybe autistic???? idk I'm not diagnosed but if I'm on here I might as well be

Did i mention that i like music STOMACH BOOK, femtanyl, Gezebelle Gaburgably, Operation Sodasteal, Nelward, Sasuke Haraguchi, Spellcasting, Ado, The Vanished People, Soddikken, Miski, Rio Romeo, Caravan Palace, Glass Beach, Jhariah, Maretu, Kikuo, 4lung, STYXVII, Will Wood, Club2Toyko (my brother!! go check him out!!!) That Handsome devil, Penelope Scott, Milk in the Microwave, Cricket, and Tyler the Creator!

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MY FRIENDS ARE THE BEST IN THE WORLD @rab1darachn1d -MY DAD !!!! HES THE COOLEST PERSON EVER @mechcanicalmadness -GRANDPA NOX!!!! KOOLEST ROBOT he also runs the @bungostraycreatures go check it out RN!! @remindertoclick <- CLICK EVERY DAY!!!!!

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BYI!! ▷ I'm a minor (if u r over 18 and want to be moots PLZ DONT BE WEIRD or Rabid will hunt u down) ▷ I swear alot and use slurs sometimes (I CAN RECLAIM DW!!!) ▷ i word stuff wrong sometimes :(( lmk and ill try to reword it better!!! ▷ I respond IMMEDITLY if i don't im prolly doing something important or smth

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—DNI—

× basic DNI (transphobes, homophobes, racists)

× THOSE RADQUEERS/ TRANSID (trace, transharmful/harmed, trans[disorders/mental illness]) yall are a strange bunch/neg ^idc about the harmless ones

× Endogenic, willows, tuplas idk much but u make my friend uncomfortable

× ZOOFILES, MAPS, and NECROS ew ew gross gross gross GET AWAY

× COM/PRO/DARKSHIPPERS GROOoooosss

× NSFW only blogs im a minor × ppl who are just shitty to therians, furries, xenogenders just admit ur sad

× pro ed /thinspo what × Radfems and terfs fucking what × Proisreals i hate u guys ◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇ i love u all just dont hurt anyone or urself!!!

[sakiyaki-sashimi]

WOAH IM HERE WHOOPS, I had to lie in wait for a moment.. no but the real reason I was gone for a bit is because since my anon messages are like.. super long, I don’t want to accidentally exhaust you so I try to give it some time between them so that DOESN’T happen! But I’ve been here!

And good guess, but no :3 I do like myself some project sekai too.. my favorite group is mmj, I’m Minori’s #1 fan actually uhmmmm!!

And we are (in fact) mutuals! :D One of my favorites ones I giggle behind my hands.. I doubt we’re IRLs? If we are, I would explode /pos

Anddd of course I like you! It’s not especially difficult, you make it easy.. :3

It’s actually a little bit insane to me we have mutual interests or likes like.. oh my god? Super cool person somehow likes the same things as me? Actually unreal uhmmm!! Like for example, the candies I named last time are ALSO some of my favorites from when I was a kid :D

Also adore the mystery genre.. (Animes, games, books etc…) I’m stupidly in love with the trope where it’s a super smart girl and just a guy who basically makes sure she doesn’t get herself killed (In/Spectre my beloved..)

And your hint! Let’s seeeee.. I’m also newer to Tumblr? I said I found you around in the October-December period but that’s also when I first made my account :3 And I’m a minorrr.. I feel like that’s obvious but I’m throwing it out there too just in case..

YEAH.. OKAY. I feel like I’m banging at my enclosure to not shower you in constant praise (I feel the need to emphasize every time I mean this all in a non-strange way..) just because that’s the only way I feel I can properly show how cool I think you are uhm! Anyways! I cover myself in a cloak and when it comes off I disappear

HIIIII U CAME BACK!!!!!! Yay!!!!!! You could never exhaust me, no matter how long you write, because it’s you writing it!!! I could listen to you for paragraphs without being bored!! Ur honestly my favorite thing on tumblr rn <33

No matter how much or little u send idm!! Ily anyway! Glad ur sticking around tho <33

Omg minori fan?!?!!! Also PJSEKAI FAN YAY! Are you by chance sleepyjiraiminori!!? HAVE I DONE IT?! IM MUTUALS WITH THEM OMG IT COULD BE U!!!! Also if we were IRLs you would 100% know it bc im usually the reason my IRLs are on tumblr to begin with XD but if we were I would be so happy!!!

Man I’m so happy u like me!! U say I make it easy but mannn idk sometimes I can be a little exhausting I know it!! One day I’m very happy genki and the next I’m negative and politically charged LOLLL well that’s what you get when you give a jirai leftist teen a tumblr account I guess XD

THOSE CANDIES ARE UR FAV TOO??!!!! Man!! We have to be closer than we think then, that’s so uniquely American XD At least I think so hahaha! Honestly it’s so crazy to have like a secret double version of me on tumblr!! So I totally get it :3

OMG I LOVE MYSTERY TOO!! My fav genre of mystery is team of detectives that are found family, especially with one genius newbie upstart and the older detective that’s been there the whole time and at first they hate each other but then they become parent-kid!! Aghhh so good so good

IN/SPECTRE!!! IVE BEEN MEANING TL WATCH THAT WAHHHHHH AHH!!!! Just one more thing we’ll have in common when I’m done X3 man I can’t wait to figure out who you are so we can RP!! (ONLY IF U WANT OFC!!)

That hint also aligns with sleepyjiraiminori too!! Man if ur not her yall need to be friends too, you’d get along great! Also the minor bit was a given bc most of my moots are minors anyway XD idk any non-minor moots and even if I have them there’s nobody who likes my blog who’s older than 18! (Unless my old online gr00m3rs still follow me?? Ugh I sure hope not..)

BRO THAT IMAGE OF U BANGING ON A LITTLE CAGE IS SO SWEET SOMEHOW??? My little ferret I wanna hug u so badddd /p

That’s just so sweet of u!! I think ur super cool too, just the coolest!!!! I’m so happy ur around here with me <3

Haha now I imagine you as a little cream white ferret with peachy front and back paws and big dark brown eyes, all wrapped up in a black cloak Despereaux style!! X3 ur prob taller than me, so ur like one of those tall lanky ferrets in my head, and im a small chubby mouse, like a comedy duo LOLLL

anyway wahhh stay safe, c u next time!!

(Here’s to hoping my guess is right this time fellow detective!)

[bravestworriers]

writer interview game <3

thank u to @pricemarshfield who tagged me in this :) i'm so glad we're friends and u let me bombard you with random writing snippets as i go along!

i will be tagging the og writing wife @atxvanhalen (circa 2012), ao3 famous bffl @riverdanceeee, fantasy-pilled love of my life @multilevelmargoting, the coolest film reviewer in the biz @kaafka, and my begrudgingly kind editor @takeavacation2010 . & anyone else who'd like to write a little something about themselves!

read below if you dare!!!

When did you start writing?

probably as long ago as i could figure out how to & started winning little competitions for it! i love telling stories, usually through a visual medium (storyboarding, screenwriting etc), but it's all writing at the end of the day, no matter how put it down on a page.

i recently located my half finished writing from elementary school (so i must have started from the age of at least 8), all in the email drafts of my oldest email account, and it's always a treat to see how i used to think about romance, about drama and all that good stuff! (i was wrong and sad, but adorably so!)

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

i love big sci-fi adventures, heists, life or death sort of stuff, just as long as it's grounded in something tangible and human. i also just love media where you can tell that the artists are having a lot of fun with the medium and they way they're piecing everything together. like i adore the films kneecap (dir. rich peppiatt) and american animals (dir. bart layton) and dick johnson is dead (dir. kirsten johnson), even though i could never see myself writing a true story/biopic feature like that -- they're just exploring what a feature film compiling those ideas looks like today, fighting against the rules of what people think it should be, and just going for it. other than that, i watch a lot of BAD movies and BAD tv because it's fascinating to pull it apart and figure out where things went wrong -- like looking under the hood of a fucked up car.

mostly, i think i read and watch a lot of the types of things i like to write, lots of introspective dramedies and coming of age stories. but usually no tragedy, it makes me too sad.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

in school i got compared a LOT to tim burton (i made a lot of fantasy focused films that existed in the real world), which honestly feels like a little bit of an insult now. if i was compared to henry sellick, now that would be a compliment.

i'd love to emulate documentarian and cinematographer kirsten johnson! (it's not going to happen. but i love her.)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

i really can write anywhere, as long as it's in complete isolation listening to the same piece of music over and over until whatever i'm doing is complete (that's the autism for ya!). usually when i'm working, i'm lying down in bed in the evening, or weirdly standing with my computer on a counter in the kitchen early in the morning as i'm getting ready for my day. i'm a slow writer and can't get anything done without a deadline (work related) or a special interest (fic related), and usually things sputter aimlessly until someone explicitly asks for it (this is why my ao3 never has anything finished. sorry guys! #shamelssplug!)

(right now the piece of music i'm listening to is norman's walk by jon brion. and yes, if you're curious, my repetition of single pieces of music always messes up my spotify wrapped.)

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

the only theme i can think of is one of meeting someone that you're meant to meet, exactly at the point in your life that you are meant to meet them. life is chance upon chance upon chance, i've found, and i love capturing that life-changing feeling as it balances temporarily on a pinpoint. i especially love when it ends in tragedy too.

agnes varda's cleo from five to seven is a favourite of this trope. a bit of severance by ming le also has this concept wrapped up in it. and billy wilder's the apartment.

i don't think it surprises me though, i think it's always something i'm looking for in life. to eventually look back and see the path i made, and to know even if i didn't at the time, that it was the right one because of the people i had the pleasure of meeting, even briefly.

i also love 90s wedding movies and the strict structure they're written with, it's fun to replicate and poke fun of in my own work.

What is your reason for writing?

i started writing because i would get really overwhelmed with my feelings over whatever was going on in my life, and need to parse through them somehow. they say it's always best to start with a nugget of something, and build off of it. it's how i've coped with everything from romantic kerfuffles, to immigration, and racism, to parents splitting up, death, and everything else life has to offer. explicitly in my writing, or not.

maybe i've just been exceptionally lucky, but every time i've shared something that felt so isolating and devastating i did not know how to deal with it, i've always met someone after the fact who looked me in the eyes and told me they felt exactly the same thing.

it makes me love being a person on this planet.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

i don't know! if you like it, please let me know! if you don't, please don't tell me i'll think about it for the next twelve years of my life and also cry.

no, but in all seriousness, i just want to make people feel like some part of them is understood, whatever that looks like. yell into the void with me, or yell back at me from the void, whatever works best for you.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

pacing and emotional beats. i can always feel when a scene is done, or when i want it to be done. i love writing the emotional stuff, i don't really care about the stuff that it takes to get there, other than it makes those beats happen.

writing my dialogue is like pulling teeth. writing my inner monologue gets convoluted. writing, i'm a slower than the oldest, most decrepit turtle. writing my descriptions can get too long in screenplay format. literally nothing but pacing out a story and hitting those emotional beats.

How do you feel about your own writing?

it makes me sick to my stomach. after i've obsessed over something for months and it's done, i can't look at it. i'm always terrified that it's so much worse than i want it to be, or that i'm envisioning it is. (i've had this exact experience at a festival with one of my films before and it haunts me forever.) i need other people to tell me it's written okay before i start to feel normal about it. i want to get over this sensation eventually, but it doesn't seem like it's happening anytime soon.

that being said, i don't think i could make myself stop writing and telling stories if i wanted to. my cross to bear, i suppose.

that's all. thanks for this, sarah, and if anyone read this, i hope you enjoyed it :^)

[osamucide]

reid!! hello hello once again hope I am not bothering u or sending this at a bad time <3 (I love your new description-in-your-blog-text-thing-idk-what-it's-called!! I love your whole blog!! actually, I love all of you!! <3) please take of yourself and this is my daily "thank you for being the coolest person to ever exist in this world" message AND I am here to tell you I have a neko atsume kitty (I hope you know this game or else I'm so sorry 😭 I just tend to rename a lot of the cats after friends and moots <3) named after u and he's the cutest thing ever and he's always visiting and leaving me the best gifts ever and I get so happy everytime I see him bc I'm like "reid!! reid is back!!" and he's a cutie patootie he's just a guy a little goober and I have complied three photos for you to see your neko atsume cat persona (at least in my eyes) mwah have a lovely day <3 (I hope the sizing kn these images isn't tiny or I'll CRY I just didn't want to send them all as seperate imgs bc tumblr is mean about that in asks iykwim BUT HAVE A GOOD DAY TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF YOU'RE AMAZING AMAZING AMAZING <3)

crush by ethel cain has saved me before and it will save me again and no actually i love all of YOU more ness

NEKO ATSUME MENTIONED!!!!!!!!! if my phone storage wasn’t bent over i’d have redownloaded this ages ago (trying again rn) and it’s so funny that this is me because my irl friends say i’m totally tuxedo/b&w cat coded so i’m glad that reads <3 also i have tears in my eyes because ur the sweetest ok have a good day ness <3

[deepwinterstrawberry]

i would love to hear about "Flowers, Books, & the Moon" and "cass can’t communicate" please?

yay omg i was hoping to talk about those!! ^u^

Flowers, Books, & the Moon (~16k words) is set a few months before the beginning of Suneater (the big longfic i'm currently posting), but should be ok as a standalone read. it's Kon's POV of a weekend that the Wayne family spends with the Kents in Smallville. here's an excerpt:

When the grandfather clock chimes ten, they pack things in for the night. Kon tiptoes into his room, being careful not to let any light from the hallway fall on the bed. Dick, however, doesn't know the exact angles of the lamps and doors and walls, and as he enters, the sheet of pale yellow light sweeps over Jason’s sleeping figure. Jay twitches. "Shh!" Kon says to Dick, as if that will help, and "Shh!" Dick says to Kon, and "Fuck you guys," Jay says to both of them in the cutest, sleepiest grumble. "Sorry, buddy." Dick perches on the edge of the bed. "You fell asleep at dinner and Clark carried you up. You need anything or you going right back to sleep?" "Brushing… my teeth," Jay says uncertainly. "Did I? Do it?" "No, but that's okay." “’S not. ’S gross.” With a sigh, Dick helps pull back the covers. Jay drags himself out of bed and glowers about the room like he's never been in a house before. "Bathroom's this way," Kon says, holding the bedroom door open with one hand and beckoning with the other. And Jay takes it. Kon stares at their joined hands for all of a second before he gets control of himself. He pilots his body down the hall, walking on fucking air as he leads Jay to the bathroom.

Cass Can't Communicate is a bunch of little half-formed thoughts for a stephcass piece inspired by Komi Can't Communicate, which is a truly adorable anime/manga about a girl with social anxiety so bad she can't talk. i'm not sure if i'd use that same backstory for Cass or if i'd stick to her canon backstory. basically it's Cass trying to be in school and having a really hard time, i think everybody would think she's a) Terrifying and b) The Coolest, but nobody really treats her like a person until Steph happens to catch her at a vulnerable moment and they start to bond. cue Steph helping Cass make 100 friends and them having lots of little sweet moments while Cass befriends bunches of DC characters <3

this is the ask game!