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Hq!! - Blog Posts
finally got all the hq!! funko pops! now all they need to make is Suga and Yams. [ignore bakugo. i don't have anywhere to put him.]
super excited ! my pre-order for the hq!! omnibus 3-1 edition arrived ! it is a bit scuffed on one corner but i'm too excited to care fully. + my pre-order for the warrior cat manga novel #1 the prophecies begin arrived as well (:
so apparently the haikyuu fandom is actually???? active on tumblr? so here’s the kagehina animation i made a few months ago that took me five hours lol
i die a little bit inside when i realise they never do this again
why does kageyama lowkey look good as a redhead
is nishinoya... chomping on tsukki??
Kageyama Tobio
I was supposed to draw Hinata first but things happened and it’s Tobio instead
I’ll be finishing the Hinata drawing these days.
I’m not surprised about who is winning 😌
Kageyama Tobio
I was supposed to draw Hinata first but things happened and it’s Tobio instead
I’ll be finishing the Hinata drawing these days.
Kuroo Finished Product
Kuroo Left Side ¾
Bokuto Finished Product
Bokuto Right Side 4/4
Bokuto Front ¼
LUCKY NUMBER #27
— Tobio Kageyama
CHANGING THE TITLE SOON LAWL
IM GONNA UPDATE THIS SOON PLS DONT LOOSE HOPE ON ME
Synopsis: 3 years of being away from your family, your brother. All to follow your dream of being an idol. What’s going to happen when your company says you can’t date but you just found the hottest guy in your grade? Will you go on with your dream, or sacrifice it?
Content: high school, sfw!!, angst lowk, fem reader in mind, slight slow burn??, lowk one sided for a few chapters, kys jokes, fat jokes erm, yn lowk op, characters may be ooc, umm you have a pet rabbit surprise!! Made up characters.
Status: ongoing - just started (bites nails)
profiles:
Spotlight on us (not y/n & tsuki tho) | b b b ballers
Chapters:
Milkshake (disaster)
Top 10 coming home videos
Not my type
Tba
I want one – Suna x reader wc 491 – f!reader
When babysitting Osamu’s twins for a weekend, you had expected Suna to get a little baby fever. You hadn’t spoken about children in a while, but you both love it when cute kids come up on your nightly TikTok scroll and both agreed you wanted them eventually.
Osamu’s twins were adorable and you felt the baby fever heating up only on the first day.
What you didn’t expect was for Suna to rush into the bathroom where you were brushing the girl’s teeth, the boy under his arm and a bright grin on his face. “These are amazing, I want one. No, I want four.”
You blinked at him, the little girl by your side doing the same in confusion.
Suna made an incredulous sound and pointed at her. “Those too!”
Your jaw dropped and you covered the poor girl’s ears as a joke, using a nod of your head to gesture to the boy in Suna’s arms. “What did he do? Also, why are you carrying him around like a sack of rice?”
The boy held up a Hot Wheels car and shrugged his shoulder as best as he could. “We were just playing with my toys.”
When the twins had gone to bed, you found Suna in the kitchen doing a pretty bad job with the dishes. Clearing your throat made him look over his shoulder and speak his mind. “Is eight too many?”
You snickered and snuck your arms around his waist, leaning your cheek on his muscular back. “Definitely. Maybe three?”
Suna sighed and shook the water off his hands, seemingly deciding to leave the rest of the dishes for now. “Can you imagine helping our own daughter brush her teeth? She looks like both of us and either takes after our hobbies or loathes them?” he ranted, using his hands to gesture in the most nonsensical way.
The thought made your heart flutter, actually taking the time to consider that image. “She’ll be such a brat, being your daughter.”
“She’ll be so cool!” he exclaimed in presumed agreement. “And imagine our son, he would gather blackmail on his iPad and use it to make his sister help him out of trouble. That’s what I did at least.”
“Both will be brats.”
His shoulders started slowly sinking into their normal hunch as the enthusiasm lulled. “I want to make humans with you and see who they turn into. Watch them grow and make terrible decisions while figuring themselves out. I want to be there for them in a way I can’t when I’m just borrowing Osamu’s.”
You caressed his cheek, letting your thumb graze his cheekbone comfortingly. “You are such a weirdo. And our kids will be even weirder.”
“All eight.”
“All three,” you corrected him.
“Three sets of twins.”
“Slow down cowboy, one at a time.” He looked at you with so much adoration, until his eyes turned more mischievous.
“One at a time. Let’s start right away.”
masterlist
this is entirely self-indulgent.
𖦹 AM I THE SAME GIRL? ⇆ atsumu miya
┆︎summary ┆︎you've taken up two new interests―geology and unearthing the truth behind atsumu's new cryptic behavior.
┆︎tags┆︎getting together, friends to lovers. reader is oblivious. atsumu is predictably, a loser in love.
┆︎wc┆︎3.7k
┆︎an┆︎it is the beginning of winter and for some reason i always think of summer. and also this 100% an excuse to research further about something that has always interested me. half of what i learned didn't even make it into the fic but just know i have about 3 hours worth of stuff lodged in my brain now.
okinawa is a long thirty-six hours from your home in hyogo. you've already vowed to visit once your curator job takes off―and you actually have enough money to stay there. but anyway. the reason you want to visit so badly is because of the hoshizuna no nama―or the star sand beach. where sand is typically made up of tiny rocks and particles, the sand is made of tiny star-shaped little particles.
you know this, and other odd things about rocks you've never heard of before, thanks to your monthly subscription to the petrology society journal. the part time job you've gotten at onigiri miya doesn't allow much for extra expenses, but the journal is one of the things you don't mind dipping into your budget for.
it's nothing something most people would expect from you (and certainly not something you thought you would enjoy so much) but you had caught the tail end of a documentary on the history of the earth while studying for yet another exam.
you're reading the latest issue now, or you're trying to. it's more like you're pretending to read it, as your eyes scan over the same paragraph seven times. in reality, you're way too interested in watching osamu and a few of his friends play a friendly (?) game of volleyball. and more specifically―watching atsumu play volleyball.
osamu had asked if you wanted to join, or maybe if you wanted to keep the score but you had declined. these were osamu's friends, and you felt more than a little out of your element just by being there. you attended the inarizaki high, same as osamu and his friends, but to say you were friends then was a generous statement.
at most, you and osamu partnered together often to work on projects or study. classroom friends. not the sort that hung out together outside of school hours. and when you started working part-time at onigiri miya, you assumed it would be the same. it isn't, and as a result, the two of you have struck up a tentative new friendship.
atsumu, osamu's twin, is an entirely different story. even in highschool, he was never someone you were able to understand. and nothing about him ever made any sense. even after all the time that has passed, that remains the same.
it's like he pays too much attention to you, but at the same time―none at all. you don't get it.
suit yourself atsumu had said, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes traced over you―watching keenly as you found a place to sit off to the side. you can just be my cheerleader instead.
your scowl had been instantaneous. feathers ruffled, you planted yourself down on your beach chair and forced yourself not to give atsumu the time of the day. a challenge, when he's possibly the hottest person you've ever seen. he carries himself differently than osamu, and you wonder if that's what makes you so drawn to him.
you aren't sure if you want to know the answer. what does that say about you, being attracted to boys with bad attitudes and piss colored hair?
"i don't hear any cheerin" atsumu drawls out, when he catches you staring for maybe the third time in a row. you scowl again, and cross one long leg over the other, body language clearly expressing your displeasure.
the star sand, in the end, isn't made up of anything mythical―not like you had been expecting. you know magic isn't real, but still your mind had conjured up the idea that the star sand was made of remnants from magical stars. sand, star shaped or not, are made up of decomposed organisms.
your eyes slide once more towards atsumu. for once, he isn't looking back at you. people, famous volleyball athletes or not, are made up of the same things.
--
today had been taxing in a way it hasn't been in a long time. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, plastered with heat and sweat. class fared no better, and you forced yourself to trudge through the lessons―completely fumbling when a professor suddenly cold-called on you.
the one time you decide to give yourself a few extra hours of sleep instead of keeping up with the reading, you make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. you're sure no one even remembers it, or gives it a second thought. but you wouldn't know how to stop being so mean to yourself, even if you wanted to.
your day hadn't gotten any better. you spilled a cup of iced coffee all over yourself, tripped and skinned your knee, had a disastrous shift at onigiri miya (to the point where osamu sent you home early)―and to top it all off, passed out the moment you arrived back at your apartment, instead of working on a paper that was due the next day.
never again will i take a summer class, you think to yourself, as you stand sleepily in line at the nearby convenience store.
"you seem tired" a voice says, next to you. and you turn blearily to face atsumu miya himself. "you're in grad school, right?"
it's totally and completely unfair that he gets to walk around looking that perfect. if there is a god, it's clear that he has favorites. and you are most certainly not one of them. atsumu, on the other hand, is.
"i'm regretting taking summer classes" you explain, tracing the floor pattern with the toe of your beat-up sneakers. you don't want to delve too deeply into your issues, and you're unsure if atsumu even cares to listen. "it's―challenging. at times"
"it might be a busy day, but try to make some time for yourself. any time spent settling your mind is time well spent. staring pensively into that cup of tea for a few moments can be equally beneficial" says atsumu, reading off of his phone, tone unusually wise. "calm your mind, and your heart, and make it an at-peace day"
it's night. your brow arches, thoroughly concerned.
"what?" is all you say, looking at him.
"it's pretty straightforward you know" atsumu pouts―pouts. this whole infatuation...thing, would be a lot easier if he weren't so pretty to stare at. "just, keep it in mind, okay?"
"...okay" you promise, because what else can you even say at this point.
a grin spreads across his face, surprisingly genuine. you don't even want to begin to unpack what that might mean, so you don't. you pay for your things, and part ways outside of the entrance of the store, going in opposite directions.
you get back to your apartment. and you make yourself a cup of tea, staring at it in the snoopy shaped mug.
it does help you feel a bit better.
--
your favorite shifts at onigiri miya are the morning ones. well, late morning and the beginning of the rush hour. you and osamu typically chat politely, where he asks about the different events happening in your life. neither of you seem to have many friends and you're all the more glad for the easy friendship you have with him.
this morning had been passed in comfortable silence, both of you in separate parts of the shop, working.
that is, until osamu sticks his head to the front of the shop and throughs a wrench in your entire life. "you know you could just talk to him"
"huh?" you say ineloquently, serving spoon held above the rice. it dawns on you pretty quickly, what osamu is saying and you don't have to look at him to know that he knows. still, you lie and reply with, "i have absolutely no clue what you're talking about"
"really? because 'tsumu's standing right there" your head snaps up. atsumu is not there. you turn to glare at osamu, who only laughs loudly at your expense. "god you're easy"
"i'm going to quit" you threaten, though both of you know that isn't the case. osamu only laughs louder. "i don't deserve this treatment"
the bell jingles overhead. "what treatment?" atsumu says, in the flesh this time―fresh from a jog. both you and his twin look surprised. speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. "osamu you better be treating your best employee with the utmost respect!"
"i don't even treat you with the utmost respect" osamu drawls, before heading into the back of the shop so he doesn't have to hear his twin's response.
atsumu, thoroughly annoyed, stalks to the front. he stares down at you through the separation glass and smiles. "good morning. doing better?"
"uhhh" you say, awkwardly, staring at him. or trying not to stare at him. he's wearing a tank top today and you can feel your brain shutting down. eventually, your brain reboots itself and you remember what it is he wanted to know. "yes―the tea helped. thanks for that"
"no problem" atsumu replies, and rattles off his usual weekend morning order. two spicy tuna and two yaki. he watches you make them with eerily focused eyes―like it's his first time ever seeing anyone make onigiri or something.
you make your way to the cash register, and atsumu follows. his eyes land on your latest issue of the petrology society journal. "you've been reading those a lot."
your eyes, naturally, also track to the magazine. you usually like to read to pass the time when there's no customers in sight. but being noticed, perceived, by atsumu of all people, makes you feel suddenly too-conscious. you try to remind yourself of the star sand, and how it's just like regular sand. atsumu is just another person. no need to get so worked up about it.
"every time i see you, your nose is usually in it" atsumu says―unaware of the effect it has on you. he points to the cover. "do you know what kind of rock that is?"
"basalt" you gurgle out, avoiding his stare.
atsumu's eyes light with understanding. "looks kinda like gravel to me" he lifts his gaze to you once more. "is that a rock? gravel?"
you pretend to think on it―like you haven't covered that topic on one of your earlier issues weeks ago.
"gravel's made up of a lot of other crushed rock" you explain, eyeing him. he's looks genuinely interested. "usually limestone, sandstone and basalt"
atsumu smirks, victorious, and snaps his fingers. "i knew it"
he did not 'know it'. you hand him onigiri with a small smile and a shake of your head anyway.
--
osamu, atsumu, their friends and a handful of new faces you don't quite recognize are playing volleyball in an indoor gym. once again, osamu has extended an invitation to you―but you learn that atsumu has asked that you be there as well.
this time, you bring along an ice cooler, stashed with water bottles. you don't really know what volleyball players eat to conserve energy and after classes sucking the joy from your body, you didn't feel too up to making anything. but they seem overjoyed at the snacks you've brought anyway.
what excites a bunch of grown adult men about mere trail mix and greek yogurt, you'll never understand. but if it means everyone likes it, then you're happy. you're chatting with a few siblings and close friends of the players and you're having so much fun you haven't bothered to pick up your magazine once. but its tucked into your crossbody bag, pressing up against your side as a gentle reminder of its presence.
watching them play volleyball is fun all on its own, too. atsumu and his brother play on the same team, playfully bickering with one another. and then atsumu's eyes search through the small gathering of people watching until they land on yours. he slaps the back of osamu's shoulder and jogs off the court before he can retaliate.
"give me your hands" atsumu says, instead of greeting you like a normal person.
you, predictably, do no such thing. instead, you shoot him a cautious look, cradling them to your chest. "i'm not doing that"
atsumu rolls his eyes. "just do it"
he holds his hands out, expectant. side-eying him, you comply. he takes hold of them―touch surprisingly gentle. his hands are warm, but aren't sweaty like you'd expect. he turns your palms over, and his eye's scan over them, studying them.
there's not much else for you to do, but join him. you look at your palms, trying to see what he see's. if he's seeing anything at all.
"you know, by looking at your hands, i'd say you would make a pretty good spiker" he says, and then, cryptically―"a twist in your plans will lead to unexpected joy. embrace the change"
"what are you, miya-san, you aren't making much sense at all" you say, trying not to give away how much you like it when he gently starts to trace over your palm lines with his thumb.
atsumu holds up one of your hands, comparing it to his own. "your palms and your fingers are proportional―see? signs of a good hitter they say"
that sounds like you made it up, you want to say, but don't.
"and the last part―it was your horoscope this morning" he says, continuing to make less and less sense. why does he know your horoscope in the first place? does he check it periodically, or is this a spur of the moment thing? the two of you are still holding hands. what does any of this mean?
i didn't know atsumu was into this kind of stuff, you think to yourself, as you stare at his hands in return. you suppose you aren't the only one with new, emerging interests.
"and what do your hands say?" you reply instead, hoping that he doesn't pull away.
atsumu snorts, and this time, places his in yours. "well i guess you can check. not that you know what you're looking for"
"well explain it to me then" you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning his palms over in your hands, like he had done with yours. you hear the hitch of breath that follows, before you see it.
"well my fingers are slightly longer and that means they're unproportioned to my palms" he explains, matter of factly. you stare more pointedly at his hands, so you don't have to look up into his face. "so you could say i would make a good middle blocker"
"but you're not" you say, frowning.
"i'm not" atsumu confirms, smirking at you―like it's a fond secret the two of you share. someone laughs in the background, surely not at the two of you, but he pulls away anyway, running a hand through his hair.
"is it really that hard for you to want to cheer for me?" he asks suddenly, staring at you.
confusion falls upon your face. every time it seems that you finally have a handle on the conversation, atsumu has to flip them so that you remain ever puzzled. "huh?"
"i always ask you to. cheer for me, i mean." he explains, uncharacteristically looking away. "but you never do. you cheer sometimes for osamu, or suna. oran especially."
you wish for the contact of his hands again. "i didn't think you were serious. i'm sorry"
it dawns on you then, that he has. nearly every time they play, in fact. he asks without fail. but you assumed it was a joke, or something.
"try it next time?" he asks, 100% serious, ignoring the way his team calls out for him. you have a feeling this isn't about the cheering anymore. but it's like you're missing several pieces of a particularly large and complex puzzle. in other words. you have no idea what it is that atsumu means behind his words.
"okay" you say, because what else is there to say?
atsumu beams, and jogs back onto the court.
--
osamu says he's going to head out to go pick up some supplies. he returns forty-minutes later with no supplies and with atsumu in tow, flanked on the other side by suna.
"hi atsumu, hi suna" you greet, waving, closing your magazine. "are you guys getting anything?"
suna and osamu look to be in much higher spirits than atsumu, who looks seconds away from puking. he doesn't. suna leans close to whisper in his ear, and atsumu glares at him fiercely―trying to turn around to leave the store. osamu doesn't let him, looking all too cheerful to push him towards you.
you decide you really don't want to know what shenanigans the three of them are up to.
"your usual, miya-san?" you ask again, putting on a pair of serving gloves.
atsumu spares another look at his brother, before shuffling forwards half-a-step. he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "there's a market. for crystals and stuff, about an hour from here in osaka. it's here for two weeks and i wanted to know if you wanted to go with me"
then, looking up at the ceiling of all things, continues. "it'll have other stuff too. like horoscopes and fortune telling."
you don't really need the extra information. you figured that sort of thing would be there. but horoscopes are kind of atsumu's thing. you're pleased he wants to share it with you―even if you find it a little cool as well.
"sure" you smile "sounds fun"
atsumu looks as though he could faint. or puke. or maybe do some combination of the two. but his color improves, and he gives you a small smile in return, shockingly bashful.
he peers down at you, shedding all of his strange behavior. "okay. great. tomorrow? i'll pick you up"
"tomorrow works for me, miya-san" you reply, good-naturedly.
atsumu turns and leaves onigiri miya without another word.
"you should dress nice" suna says, oddly, once he's completely gone. osamu's too busy typing madly on his phone to interject, so you look at him strangely. now he is starting not to make sense.
--
you do dress nicely. so much so, that atsumu compliments you on it at least four different times before you can even make it to the marketplace. i like your hair, it's cute. pretty, like your skirt. things like that. you don't know what to make of it.
"are you excited?" you ask, once the security guard hands the two of you wristbands.
atsumu clasps his on deftly, but signals for you to hold out your wrist once he notices you struggling. you try not to jerk in place every time his fingers graze your skin―but you aren't sure how successful you are at keeping a straight face.
"shouldn't i be asking you that?" he asks, raising his brows in confusion. he doesn't wait for you to answer, tugging you along by the hand in the direction of one of the booths.
"oh i recongize this one" you tell him, pointing down at a jagged stone. "its called chalcedony. i read about it a few days ago. it's a type of cryptocrystalline"
"a what?" atsumu asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares down at the stone with a puzzled expression. it's cute on him, the casual bewilderment. he looks at it like he's trying to place where he's seen it before.
"a cryptocrystalline" you repeat, smiling at him. much easier to do when he isn't looking at you. "it means you can only tell that it has the structure of crystalline when its under a magnifying glass"
atsumu hums, pleased. "cool", he says, and browses the rest of the booth with you. once you're done with that one, poiting out all of the stones and rocks you've read about―atsumu pulls you along to the next one, eager to repeat the process. he's seems interested in what you have to say, asking questions to pick your brain for more information when he senses you might be holding out on him.
"i'm glad i heard about this" he brings up, as you walk away from a food stall―matching bowls of yakisoba in hand. "i read yesterday that opportunity only seizes those who are ready to take it and that i need to take the fearful leap"
you stop a stray noodle from landing on your crisp yellow cardigan, looking over at him. "what?"
atsumu's eyes are on yours. "my horoscope" he says, like it means something important.
"oh!" you exclaim, once realization hits you "i'm surprised you've gotten so into horoscopes and fortune telling"
a odd look crosses his face. "i'm not―you are"
"no i'm not" you tell him. "why would you think that?"
atsumu's face heats. "well, you're always reading about the rocks. the crystals and gemstones"
"i like petrology. not crystals and gems" you explain, unable to hide your smile. "it's about rocks in general. like their origins or what they're composed of"
you remember all of atsumu's cryptic words, odd, strange ways of speaking. the sage advice in the store that one time. they were horoscopes. before you can stop it, you burst out laughing. you try to muffle it into your arm, but the sound escapes anyway.
"that's what you were meaning with all those weird things you kept saying?" you ask, once you've managed to stop laughing. "i thought you were trying to―i don't know, warn me of my ominous and impending doom!"
"i wasn't" atsumu pouts, tossing his unfinished yakisoba into the trash. "i was trying to find something to start a conversation with you. i didn't know how else to tell you i liked you"
your amusement dries up and your throat closes up. your eyes look around, at everywhere else but him.
"...are you going to say anything?" atsumu asks, looking like the boy you remember from highschool.
"i―uh. i like you too" you stammer out, staring down at your shoes. it's shockingly easy to do. logically, you knew there was always a small, small chance that he would reciprocate your feelings, always in the most pleasant of dreams.
in them, atsumu would blush (much like he is now) and ask "are you sure?" much like his is now.
and in your dreams, you would throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. or confess your undying love and attraction to the most strangest boy you've ever known. but like the star sand, and so many other rocks you've learned about, reality does not end up like your wistful imagination.
"i'm sure" you nod, and gingerly reach for his hand. "do you want to keep looking around?"
atsumu beams. squeezes your hand in his own. it feels better than any of your dreams could have ever conjured up. "'course i do"
© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.
“friend” ✧ shimizu kyoko x fem!reader ✧ pt 1(?)
summary: kyoko and you had been friends for a good while now, but she doesn’t seem to have time for you anymore, which leaves you rather confused. and hurt.
tw: angst. y/n being very jealous and kinda bratty. one sided beef with yachi? nothing crazy but still.
hq!! navigation.
kyoko was such a good friend to you. always been, since you’ve met her. you two clicked from the start, when you were paired up for a science project during your junior year.
she was everything one could yearn for, an intelligent, determined, yet kind, fragile, and gentle mannered person. her intentions were always good, her words always wise, never failing to convince, comfort or put someone back in place with elegance and charm.
her reputation preceded her around the school. everyone knew her, from the newest students to the seniors.
you lost count of all the times you’d get stuck in a corner, waiting for her to finish her chit-chat with one of her hundredths acquaintances. it happened on the daily, since day one.
it wasn’t something bad. you knew it. you weren’t envious of her popularity, never was. she was the sun, you were the moon. whilst everyone knew her name, they had no idea who you were, although being at her costant side.
“shimizu’s friend.” that’s how they called you.
and you didn’t mind.
not until you became “one” of shimizu’s friends.
this year was gonna be your last one in that high school you grew fond of. you managed to make your little friendgroup in there, with the volleyball team you and kyoko were the managers of, along another girl named hitoka yachi, who was another friend of you and the black haired girl. mostly hers.
only, this year, something changed.
as always, she made sure to give a hand where needed. and it happened to be needed to recruit new members of certain clubs, which required her to be constantly out of reach, for some unknown to you reason.
the school year began on late august and you could count on the fingers of one of your hands the times you were able to talk for more than five minutes alone with her.
not to talk about your outside school evenings. during those goddamn five months that had passed, not even a free weekend of hers was dedicated to you.
instead, you’d often catch her around, both on and off school, with other people– sometimes familiar faces, others not.
your gut tightens as you recollect one of those times, where you caught her and yachi at the cafeteria, alone, during lunch break.
they didn’t notice you standing still, a couple tables away from them. but you did.
and it hurt you way more than you were willing to admit.
“honey, how are you?” speaks your mother, as her head pops up from behind the door of your bedroom.
licking your dry lips, your blocked nose makes a sound, to give her an idea. “as bad as fifteen minutes ago.” your nasally voice talks, going back to breathe through your mouth.
“aw, love.” her face softens at the view of your body laying on the bed, a pile of tissues next to you. “i’ll go buy something for you at the nearby drugstore, okay?”
“please.” you beg, going to sit down.
your mom gives you a nod, smiling. “be right back. there’s some honey in the shelf if you wanna get a camomile or a warm drink while i’m gone.” she adds, before closing your door and leaving you be.
as her footsteps vanish in the distance, your mind goes back to her frame. you fall back on the soft pillows, grabbing your phone from your drawer next your bed, laying on your side. maybe she posted something on her socials, or...
you spend a good moment watching the screen, without really doing anything. why did you turn it on for? to torture yourself, seeing her hang out with other people?
you shake your head, putting it back where it was, deciding it really wasn’t the case to dig yourself further into the depression the whole situation was already giving you.
after a couple minutes, you sigh, frustrated at your poor health. you couldn’t even sleep.
you get up from your bed, crumpled pajama and messy bed hair. “she must been having lunch now” you think to yourself, watching the clock in the hallway that readed 12 PM.
“with one of those chicks from the music, art, or whatever club. or maybe with those guys from the basketball club. or maybe with someone else. alone.”
you couldn’t help it. it was so much mightier than you, as mightier as foolish and babysh and everything you knew she didn’t like or approve.
you’ve been her friend for years. why did she seem to prefer everyone’s company over yours so suddenly? what did you do?
what the fuck did you do?
descending the stairs, you go into the kitchen, opening the fridge in hope to find something appealing to fill your empty stomach with.
but you find the void. a couple eggs and an orange juice is all that’s left. another sigh leaves your mouth when you close it, a sneeze hurting your lungs as the cold air of the appliance hits the inside of your nose.
you were about to go back to your room, resigned, when you hear the door bell ring.
it couldn’t be your mom. it was way too early.
curious, you go to peek through the peephole to check who it could’ve been.
“oh, yachi,” you mumble to yourself, opening the door of a couple inches just to show the side of yourself that wasn’t too battered.
“y/n?” you hear her ask, tilting her head to take a better look at you. you cover your mouth with your hand, coughing.
“hi.” your voice leaves no doubts to your conditions, “can i help you...?” you question, bittersweet. you haven’t really talked to her after what you saw at the school cafeteria.
and she didn’t either, to be honest.
“kyoko sent me to give you these,” she takes several notebooks out of her bag, “we noticed you haven’t come to school during the past week and didn’t want you to get behind.” her lips curve into a shy smile.
hearing those words and seeing the innocence on her face, your heart tightens inside your chest.
how could you be mad at someone so sweet?
yet, you had that sour voice in your head, asking you why wasn’t kyoko the one giving you those herself. you two were closer than you and hitoka, she knew it.
“thank you, yachi.” you return her smile, opening the door further to grasp the notebooks she was handing you.
“no problem.” her smile widened slightly when she saw you reciprocating, “how are you? you look...” she scratches the back her neck, suddenly seeming bashful.
“i know i look terrible.” you laugh. “let’s say i had better days.”
“you don’t look terrible at all!” she squeaks, “i didn’t mean it like that.” her tones lowers again. “–sorry to hear that. i could go take you something if you need, i’m supposed to meet up with kyoko at the square later.” she confesses, concern in her syrupy eyes.
unaware it only made your intestines drop.
“oh.” you fake a smile. but it’s so obvious she understands immediately your drastic change.
“what?” she asks.
“nothing! sorry, my headache is killing me.” the first thing you could think of. your hand goes to massage your temple to make it more believable, “i think i better go lay down now. thanks for dropping by. see you.” you give her one last hasty smile, before slamming the door to her face, a bit too vigorously.
a sharp, stinging, painful urge to cry choked your throat, leaving you unmoving in front of the door you just closed. the strength in your muscles plunge abruptly, making you drop the notebooks on the floor next your feet, your face shifting every second that went by, more and more into a grimace as the tears started forming in your glassy eyes, chest rising and lowering at unsteady pace.
a drop. then the storm.
you run upstairs, throwing your body onto the bed, smashing your face onto your pillows and cry, cry the life out of your eyes, cry all the built up frustration you’ve pent up all these months, all these weeks you’ve spent watching your dearest friend pick everyone over you and today, today was the last fucking straw.
why didn’t she like you anymore?
it looped in your head like a broken record, 10 times in a row, as if doing so was gonna magically make an answer appear in front of you. like it was gonna get your friend back.
you missed her so much. you wanted her back to yourself.
it went on and on. the tears couldn’t stop, framing your face and wetting your hair, that was now glued to your sticky cheeks.
until you heard the door of the entrance open and close.
“y/n, i’m back!” your mom shouts from the first floor.
quickly, you jump upright, rubbing your eyes with the fabric of your sweater, swallowing your soreful sobs. your mother was the last person you wanted to see you weeb.
“i’ve bought you some hot chocolate, want me to make it for ya?” she adds, still far away from your room. you jerk your face up, clearing your throat. “no, not now! thanks.” you respond, shouting back.
your mother didn’t insist. she wasn’t the type, luckily.
and eventually, you managed to calm down, noticing she wasn’t entering your personal space, going for a shower to shake off the mental breakdown you just had.
a week passed by. the meds your mom gave you worked, you were finally back to normal, and ready, on that fine monday, to get back to school.
during the week, you made good use of the notebooks kyoko “gave” you, leaving you, though, in the uncomfortable situation of having to hand them back.
which meant having to search her up throughout the whole school, to probably find her with someone. useless to say how much the idea made the blood boil underneath your skin.
after your talk with hitoka, you really couldn’t be bothered to try anymore. if she wished to no longer be your friend, which very much seemed to be the case, then you couldn’t do anything about it.
frankly, you were fed up. you asked her countless times to spend some time with you, only to be met by a “can’t, busy.” that, sometimes, felt like an excuse even.
you loved her. so much. however, just because you did, didn’t mean you were gonna chase her and beg her to stay in your life.
heavens, no.
that’s why an idea crossed your mind, the second you’d realized you didn’t wanna see her anymore.
you didn’t have to hand them back directly to her. you could use yachi as a go-between, just like she did.
although the idea of seeing yachi didn’t make you the happiest either, for obvious – yet very childish and stupid – motives.
you knew she had done nothing wrong, you were deeply and annoyingly aware of how dumb you were acting, of how jealousy was blinding you. nevertheless, caring about it was beginning to lack.
“y/n! you’re back!” a familiar voice made you snap towards the direction it came from, seeing hitoka run towards you into the big school yard.
“speaking of the devil” you scoff ironically under your breath, although your annoyance trounces your amusement.
“hey.” your strained smile hurts your cheeks.
“glad to see you’ve gotten better.” meanwhile hers look as natural as can be.
“thank you, i do.” you hold the notebooks tight against your chest, when the thought crosses your mind again. “hey, uh,” you begin.
“thank you for these. helped me a lot. here,” you lend her the objects. as you do, hitoka’s smile turn sheepish.
“it’s no problem, but... they’re not mine, remember? they’re kyoko’s. give them back to her.” she says, bursting your bubble so cutely you almost wanna go back home and call it a day.
“hah,” you shriek, “but, you see...” struggling to put up a bullshit. “i can’t really do that, i’ve actually got something really important to do today and i don’t think i’ll have the time to look for her. if you could...”
“oh! whatcha gotta do? i can help!” she squeals, making you hate her for a moment for being so goddamn nice all the time.
“something rather personal. can’t really talk about it. actually, don’t wanna.” your façade starts cracking, pretending to be polite in that situation was exhausting you. “just– give these back to her for me, okay? please.” you sigh, your hands going into your pockets, eyes drifting away from hers.
“oh, uh, okay.” her smile drops, noticing your change. “see you around, then?” she tilts her head, her lips fatiguing to form one last small smile.
punching your intestine with guilt, like all the times she’d give you that puppy look.
you gulp, your brows softening into a displeased expression.
“...yes.” you speak lowly, taking a step back, before watching her turn around with a wave and walk off into the building. you mentally face palm yourself. “really, y/n?” scolding yourself, you entered the place as well, after having made sure hitoka was out of sight.
the clock reminded you that your class was attending you, and you were already late for it. a loud sigh, and you’re going up the stairs to the 3rd floor, where your classroom was.
you had no shared classes with shimizu that day, although you happened to see her multiple times in the hallways, to your bad luck.
you had no idea if she waved at you, or simply mouthed a “hi” as you began to veer each time you happened to glimpse her.
and those few times you’d make eye contact, you’d snap your head away in the opposite direction. just like the mature girl you were.
“well, it’s not like she cares anyway” your head would tell you— which made it bearable. at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of.
of course it was far from true.
making her the villain was the easy option, it was the only way to feel somewhat less shitty about it all.
lunch break signed the last morning class, making students fly out of the classroom unnecessarily loudly, leaving you by yourself, your head buried between your hands.
honestly that day couldn’t get any fucking worse.
firstly, you had math. the teacher returned your corrected tests, finding out that you got the worst score of the entire class. the old man wasn’t even a bad one, which made it worse. you really fucked up an easy test, hurting your self-steam tremendously.
secondly, chemistry. you got paired up with someone you’ve never shared a word to to a practical lesson, only to end up causing a mess that got the both of you, after he tried to put the blame on you, in a one hour detention post-classes.
to say you were pissed was an euphemism.
you went to rest your forehead on the desk’s cold surface, your hands at the back of your head. at least, no one was around. you could finally be gloomy and let your facial expression go into your natural resting face, that today looked anything but friendly.
“y/n?” an oddly familiar voice speaks from several desks afar, making you curse under your breath for always being proven wrong the second you’d think something.
your head slowly raises up, met by a pair of blue eyes peering at you worrily from next the entrance.
“kyoko?” for a moment, your gaze lightens up.
then you remembered, and the wall raised back up.
clearing your throat, you look away, going silent.
“are... you okay?” you sense her stepping into the classroom. “i was walking by and saw you here all alone.”
a coincidence. what else could it be? she certainly wasn’t gonna look purposely for you.
“mhm.” giving her a brief nod, you begin to pack your bag under her confused eyes.
shimizu takes a moment to study you, eyeing carefully your rather expressive body language. “are you sure?” she tilts her head.
“mmhm.” emphasizes your annoyed self, not caring whether she might get offended or think whatever of you.
“i’ve heard the teacher tell you off, an hour ago...” she approaches you even more, chuckling nervously. “what happen—” but you cut her off.
“gotta go.” hastily, you toss your bag over your shoulder, turning around to head towards the exit,
“wait y/n—” her now alarmed voice calls,
“bye mizu.” but you don’t care.
her eyes widen, silently watching you leave the classroom.
what the hell did just happen.
a knot tightens in your throat as your mind tries to process the conversation, if so could be called, that you just had.
it’s been weeks since you last talked with her, since she voluntarily came up to you, coincidence or not– and you just dismissed her like she wasn’t the main reason you were struggling to concentrate on your classes, like you weren’t dying to spend time with her. like you didn’t miss her like air.
she was your best friend. your only, real, friend. the only person you were genuinely comfortable with, that knew you and valued your presence.
what were you doing.
there, in the middle of the hallway, your feet stop your fast walk. regret kicks your legs, making them shake, your hands closing into fists. your eyes are turning glassy once more, realization hitting you like a slap.
you didn’t want to lose her, that was the last thing you wished.
you turn around, ready to go back to her and have the discussion that needed to be spoken between you two since too much time now, only to find out you were never alone.
shimizu was right there, just a couple feet away from you.
you let out a frightened cry, taking a step back.
you hadn’t heard her following you. moreover, you certainly wasn’t expecting her to.
“sorry,” she starts, lifting her hands defensively. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”
you manage to blink the tears that had formed in the corners of your eyes away. your gaze wanders over her face warily, scared almost, as if you didn’t recognize her, although having known that person for years.
she does the same, but her gaze isn’t as untrusting and fearful. contrary, it was hurt. there was affection in it, eyeing you like you were some wounded cat in a corner.
which wasn’t too far from the truth.
“can we talk?” she asks. you notice her foot moving closer, but she withdraws it when you make yours get backward as a consequence.
you want to, so badly.
but the anger is so much louder than rationality.
✧ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀next (??) ✧
HAIKYUU CHARACTERS AND THE FUNNY INSULTS THEY’D USE
“your birth certificate was a waste of paper”
TSUKISHIMA. iwaizumi. matsukawa. daichi. YAKU.
“somewhere on this world there’s a tree whose sole purpose is to replace the oxygen you waste. go find that tree and apologize for being the stupidest person i’ve ever met”
oikawa. KUROO. sugawara. akaashi.
“bread can mold, what can you do?”
tsukishima. kenma. SUNA. hanamaki.
“your mother should have swallowed you”
suna. osamu. TANAKA. tendou. yamaguchi.
“you are the human version of period cramps”
bokuto. KIYOKO. sugawara. kita. SAEKO. atsumu.
“yeah? well you smell like hotdog water”
HINATA. yamamoto. nishinoya. kageyama.