belleizks

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shiragoshi stress doodles from twitter ♡

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mood | twitter

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shiragoshi // twitter

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Testing the waters. I can’t quite imagine how the fandom is like, but let’s see.

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Shirabu: [sarcastically] Oh, have I ever told you how attractive you are, Goshiki?

Goshiki: No?

Kawanishi: You told me he was cute.

Shirabu: What? No, I didn't.

Kawanishi: You did. I remember it because you told me not to say anything in front of Goshiki.

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When you open your clubroom locker only to stare into a mini skirt.

Have some belated April Fool’s joke. Prizes for those who bring the culprit to justice (*´∀｀*)

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♧ authorized reprint for tumblr // artist:     ふゆき /   白鳥沢まとめ

✿ please do not remove source link// edit  illustration // change caption // upload to other websites!

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wtf all i want is more shiragoshi content, am I the only one who sees a great potential in those two???? I wanna die please talk to me about salty bad haircut boy and rock lee

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If you don’t mind angst 17 for goshira Thanks have a great day

shiragoshi - “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

Everybody had bad days. It just so happened that Kenjirou had had an exceptionally bad day. He had been running on fumes since he had gotten up and his shift at work hadn’t made it any better. All that had kept him afloat through the day had been the thought of finally getting home and when that had gotten delayed thanks to some asshole damaging his car, he had genuinely been close to tears. Kenjirou couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried! That’s how bad it was!

The moment he opened the door to their apartment, warmth greeted him. He didn’t announce his presence, he just stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Despite that, he heard something clattering in the living room and seconds later Tsutomu’s face appeared in the doorway. 

“Kenjirou! Welcome back! I already ate dinner when you didn’t come home at seven but I saved you somethi- is everything okay?”

Kenjirou had frozen after taking off his coat. Something about Tsutomu’s voice struck a chord in him. It was familiarity and safety after hours filled with nothing but stress. There had been yelling at the hospital, there had been yelling from the asshole who had reversed right into his parked car - but not here.”

“I think,” Kenjirou swallowed. “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.” 

Tense, he waited for a reaction. This must have been the first time he had ever explicitly asked for a hug during their entire relationship. Tsutomu seemed dumbstruck for a moment, then he crashed into him. Before Kenjirou could lose his balance, arms were drawing him in and holding him close. Tsutomu was a good hugger, had always been. He didn’t think he had ever told him. 

Burying his face in his shoulder, Kenjirou clung to him. For a while they just stood in the hallway, holding on to each other. Tsutomu kept quiet as if he knew that all Kenjirou needed right now was time to gather himself. His presence was calm and steady, something it rarely was around him. But Kenjirou appreciated it, too much energy would just drain him even further. 

“Come on,” Tsutomu said finally, drawing away a little. Kenjirou couldn’t help the way his hands kept clinging to his shirt. “Let’s go to the living room. I’ll warm up your dinner, you just sit down on the sofa.”

Reluctantly, Kenjirou let himself be led to the sofa. He sat down and watched Tsutomu head into the kitchen, watched him turn on the stove and reheat the noodles he must have made earlier. It didn’t take long for him to come back, balancing a plate with chopsticks and two glasses with water on his hands. Kenjirou gratefully accepted the meal and waited for Tsutomu to sit down next to him. When he did, he sat close enough that their legs and arms were touching. 

Bit by bit, Kenjirou found back to himself. 

send me a ship/character/platonic relationship with a category and a number!

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ushijima: in the name of the father, son, and holy ghost-

semi: head, shoulders, knees, and toes-

goshiki: turn up your nose and strike that pose-

tendou: HEEEEY MACARENA

shirabu: Horrible job everyone

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my piece for the snowmori event created by @h4mmiee !!

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sunaosakomo request from my patre0ns 🤭

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Komori likes:

Staring at people he likes at school while slouching on the desk

Strawberries and strawberry milk

His rural hometown with his grandparents

Bento his mom makes

Being a tourist guide

Wearing sandals with socks

Kissing in the rain and doing a hundred more sappy romantic tropes that happens in sappy romantic movies

Light teasing

Suna Rintarou

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Had a rough match but your bf got you 👐

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coolest cousins

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They look cute here

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another day of practice comes to an end. the players of itachiyama gather around their coaches, the head coach sweeping his gaze at each of them. “it’s rather sudden,” he says, “but i arranged for a practice match with fukurodani next week. we’ll likely face them in the qualifiers, so this would be a good way to see how we measure against them.”

nods answer him. “we haven’t had a practice match against them in years,” iizuna remarks.

“our schedules never aligned.” coach shrugs, nonchalant. “they’ll come to us. i’ll provide more details closer to the day. after you’ve cooled down, you’re dismissed.” iizuna leads the chorus of thank-yous and then stretches. afterwards, they begin to clean up.

sakusa approaches the net, komori joining him. “this’ll be a good opportunity to practice against their ace,” he comments. “did you see his straights during the last inter-high? they’re wicked!”

“any practice is good.” his cousin doesn’t have much to say. “especially before the qualifiers.”

“a top three ace against a top five ace will be an interesting match-up,” iizuna adds, joining them with a grin. “especially when that top five ace is our coach’s son.”

they steal a glance toward their coaches. bokuto takeshi towers over them, bulk and height reminiscent of his olympic career. he replaced their retired head coach a few years ago, using his expertise to maintain their powerhouse status. “why’d you think he didn’t come here?” komori says. “fukurodani is a powerhouse too, but if my dad is a coach, i’d follow wherever he is.”

iizuna is contemplative. “it could be pressuring, though, especially if he has high standards. maybe he didn’t want that? or his dad didn’t want to coach him?”

“motoya and i played against his little league once,” sakusa says. “his dad was the coach.” that was the first time they met. although their paths crossed occasionally over the years at workshops and tournaments, his prowess never seemed to leave much of an impression compared to ushijima. all he knows bokuto koutarou for is his horned owl-like hair and voice that carried for kilometers.

“do you think he’d tell us why?” komori prods. “maybe it’s an adult thing, like itachiyama offered him more money, so–“

“boys, let’s leave on time tonight,” coach calls out. sakusa starts lowering the net, iizuna heading off to scold some first-years. it isn’t long before the lights go down and they head out.

the week passes, and it’s the day of the practice match. sakusa arrives early to stretch, iizuna already present. komori bounces in, ten minutes later, along with the rest of the team. finally, their coaches arrive, including an unexpected guest.

“morning!” bokuto, dressed in his school’s track suit, peeks out from behind his father, grin wide despite the early hour. “wow, the gym is huge!”

iizuna stares in disbelief. “coach, why…”

“i told him to go with his team, but he insisted.” coach sighs, shaking his head. “you needn’t pay attention to him, he’ll warm up on his own.”

“let me hit your tosses, iizuna!” bokuto calls out to him. “i want to see if they’re better than akaashi’s!”

the cousins share a look. iizuna laughs, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “i didn’t win the best setter award for nothing. you’re on!”

despite what coach said, bokuto does join them. sakusa observes him, notices how he’s much quieter without his teammates, but still cheers enthusiastically after every spike and receive. when it’s his turn to spike, it’s too a chorus of praise, along with bokuto’s awe.

“man, the way you snap your wrist is freakier up close!” he exclaims. sakusa clicks his tongue, though it’s drowned out with, “iizuna! send me one!”

bokuto tosses him a ball and makes his approach. iizuna sets to him, the ball meeting the heel of his hand in an instant. he spikes, a satisfying sound that echoes around them. “that’s some power,” komori whistles.

"all right, hey, hey, hey!" bokuto cheers, eliciting applause from the team. sakusa turns away, feeling a headache coming on.

they take a break before fukurodani is scheduled to arrive. “go ask him, kiyo,” komori urges him. “don’t you want to know?”

“i could care less. you ask.”

“i’m a nobody! you’re a top three ace! he’d listen to you.” komori snaps his head toward iizuna, who stands nearby with his water bottle. “iizuna-san! you ask him!”

“get sakusa to do it. they both have volleyballs for brains.”

sakusa glowers. “no, i don’t.”

“if you can approach ushiwaka, you can approach bokuto.” iizuna rolls his eyes in amusement. “he’s harmless. just look at him.” said wing spiker is chattering with his father, loud voice contrasting the older man’s quieter tone. if you didn’t know they shared a surname, you wouldn’t be able to tell they’re related.

“fine. kiyo, come with me.” komori grabs his wrist and pulls him along, ignoring his yelp.

coach moves away when they approach. “hey, bokuto-san?” komori pitches his voice higher, reserved for when he addresses upperclassmen. sakusa stands behind him. “do you mind if i ask you a question?”

“hm? oh, you’re komori! the libero, right?” bokuto chirps. “what’s up?”

“uh, well…” komori glances at sakusa, who only stares back. “we were wondering why you didn’t come to itachiyama if your dad’s the coach here. if you don’t mind sharing, that is.”

“oh! i get asked that a lot.” bokuto lowers his water bottle, glancing at his father, currently talking with his players. “he did ask, but i said no. i didn’t vibe with the school, that’s all.”

the cousins share a look. sure, itachiyama is a private school, but so is fukurodani. both schools have high-caliber academics and athletics, but itachiyama is just more. “in what way?” komori asks.

bokuto is about to answer when a chorus of shouts interrupt him. “thank you for having us!” his team has arrived.

“oh, guys! sorry, let’s talk later!” bokuto gives an apologetic wave before he jogs toward them, his teammates teasing him. he takes it in stride, glowing with laughter.

the match is underway shortly. itachiyama leads, although fukurodani is right on their heels, scoring consecutively with bokuto’s serves. sakusa takes it back, iizuna bringing them to match point with a setter dump. their opponents are unperturbed, even when they lose the first set.

by the second set, itachiyama has gotten into a rhythm, blocking bokuto more than once. by the third block, he falls dejected, his teammates slapping his back and ruffling his hair as a way to cheer him up, although his eyes remain dull. sakusa tries not to judge, simply sees it as an easy path to victory.

except it isn’t. they bounce back without bokuto scoring once for the first half of the set, and the setter lets their ace score the final point. his shouts fill the gym, once again.

“i think i know what he meant,” sakusa says to komori, as they take the court for the final set. komori opens his mouth to ask, but the whistle cuts him off. sakusa simply gets into position, ready to receive the serve.

itachiyama is rigid, like stone walls that guide them down tried and true paths. they attract the top talent in the region, masters of their position, to polish to perfection. fukurodani, however, is like water that flows between those walls, guided by tradition, but capable of flowing fast or slow, steadfast or erratic. and it’s because there’s no ceiling, it allows them to shelter against the walls before they spread their wings and fly.

that's what sakusa sees, as bokuto jumps, facing a three-man block. his cut shot lands within the attack line, a much more practiced move than in the past. fukurodani cheers, and bokuto raises his fist, victorious. “we’ll get the next one!” iizuna shouts. his team calls an affirmative, sakusa simply preparing himself for the next point.

if there ever comes a day he’ll be on the same team with bokuto, he wonders if his foundation will help bokuto fly, or he’ll be able to ride the same tailwind to launch himself further.