#hq match

[satoruxx]

you fiddle with your nails as you walk home at tooru's side, the sounds of mattsun, makki, and iwa bickering further up ahead cutting through the empty streets. you’re uncharacteristically nervous, because god knows you’ve never done something like this before—but you steel yourself because it’s worth it for him.

your feelings for oikawa tooru are all consuming—strong and deep and intense. they’ve been brewing for well over two years now, nourished by the increased amount of time you’ve spent with him. they overwhelm you, washing over your being with an intensity you’ve never felt before, and they drive you to stick by his side for as long as you can—desperate and aching for the boy who puts the stars in your sky.

you know that timing is important because tooru is nothing if not driven—singularly focused on the sport that gives him the air he needs to breathe. so you wait until well after his match with karasuno, giving your all to support him and the rest of the team because volleyball has become important to you after spending so much time with them. you give it time, wait until after the team has taken the time to lament over their missed chance, and after all the third years are ready to move on to the next phase of their lives, before you finally decide to spill your guts to him.

tooru stares ahead as he’s walking, pensive and unsmiling, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. his eyes are bright, a contrast to his expression, and there’s a resolute glint in his irises that has you feeling oddly shaken. when you reach his house, the rest of the group waves back at him before continuing on, and you realize this is your chance.

so, dangerously, you put your heart on the line.

you tell him everything you've ever thought about him—how you admire his drive and his passion, how you have looked up to him for years and years. how you have never felt so deeply for someone before knowing him. it comes out in a rushed ramble of words, all those nights of practicing in the mirror doing nothing for you in the actual moment. you stumble a few times, your face getting warmer with every word, and yet as each sentence falls forth you feel a weight lift from your shoulders—the flesh of your lungs clatter against your ribs, anxious and eager.

tooru inhales, gaze darting between your eyes and then flitting downwards. even in the dark of the night, you can see the pinkish hue crawling up his neck, can see the way he fidgets with his own fingers. he stares at you, lips parted as a wide array of emotions flit over his handsome features—they finally settle into a strange combination of apologetic and resigned.

and then he tells you no.

he tells you that volleyball will always take precedence, that he has already mapped out his future, which is too far away from you. he tells you about argentina and how his mind is made up. he tells you that he's flattered, that he's glad you're friends but that's all he can do right now.

“i'm sorry,” he says with a grimace. he studiously avoids looking at you, but you can't stop staring at him—your stomach sinks as he turns to head inside.

it takes you months to muster up the courage to tell him. it takes him two minutes to say no to you.

the rejection stings in a way that is unfamiliar, and you take a shaky breath as you walk down the street to catch up with the others.

the humiliation makes itself known in the form of a painful lump in your throat—unmoving and heavy. when you glance up you see that the third years have hung back, waiting for you. makki is wearing a knowing grin, but it falters when he sees your expression. mattsun, ever observant, seems to immediately understand, and he wordlessly slings an arm over your shoulder.

all you can do is awkwardly chuckle, knowing that it sounds weak and throaty as you shake your head. “i feel stupid,” you admit, voice wobbling as heat burns through your skin—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“you're not stupid,” makki mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets as his lips slant regretfully. you stare at the ground, nodding slowly under the weight of mattsun's arm. your lungs ache, and you know that if you open your mouth, you will lose it entirely. so all you can manage to do is look up at iwa with glassy eyes and trembling lips and a rueful smile that probably makes you look as pathetic as you feel.

you don't notice the way his fists are clenched at his sides, nails digging indents into his palms. he grits his teeth, gaze flitting to oikawa's house in the background, but he doesn't say anything.

none of them speak as they walk you home, and you try your best to keep the sniffles to a minimum, too embarrassed to look at them.

you've never felt pain like this before, and it's hard to get over it because everything reminds you of tooru. it's like someone has taken a knife and carved into your ribcage, grasping your heart before taking it out crushing it between bloodied fingers. but even despite the gaping hole in your chest you know that there are expectations to be met, things to be done.

that's the strange thing about your silly unrequited love—it hurts and hurts and hurts some more until it stops one day before you can realize it. even though your chest is still bleeding you go on with life—you go to university, you get a job, you pay bills. you get up in the morning and brush your hair and drink water and tie your shoes until the wound closes itself up. you start smiling a little wider and laughing a little freer until oikawa tooru is nothing more than an old name.

and of course there are instances where you are reminded of him and what could've been, whether it's seeing milk bread in a supermarket or passing by children hitting a volleyball over a net out in the sun. you know very well that your friends are occasionally still in contact with their old captain, not that this bothers you. after all, mattsun, makki, and iwa were very careful not to bring him up around you, which you're grateful for. so even hearing the name in passing becomes easier.

it is difficult until it isn't anymore.

you've all but forgotten him now, after years and years and years—nothing more than a distant memory.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread pooling in your stomach when you walk into the restaurant on makki's birthday and see oikawa tooru sitting at the bar, drink in hand. his eyes are alight as he laughs at whatever conversation he's joined, dark hair falling into his eyes messily.

one step forward, ten steps back.

for a second you can't help but stare, breath stolen from your lungs because it feels like the knife is back and twisting itself into your flesh all over again. there is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating and overwhelming and jarring.

tooru lifts his glass to his lips, hiding his grin as his gaze lazily travels over the expanse of the room.

another surge of panic. the familiar sting of humiliation.

he pauses as he's about to take a sip, brown eyes widening when they land on you, and you see the sharp inhale he takes. his stare doesn't waver, too consumed by shock to look away.

and yet that's all you can do—tear your eyes away because you're different now and it's long gone and you know there is no point in going down that rabbit hole again.

it was a lifetime ago—it's done now.

but you will never know how long tooru thought of you after that night back in high school. you will never know that he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the way your face fell at his rejection. you will never know that he bit his tongue so hard it bled as he watched you walk away from him. you will never know that he spent countless nights in argentina wondering what you were up to and how you were. you will never know that sacrificing you for his beloved sport was the hardest thing he's ever done.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread tooru feels when he sees the way your eyes light up as you find your way over to iwa's side.

@teddybeartoji this is for you mickey ily hehehehehe

[maplewhims]

simlish magazines 2.0 by maplewhims

i'm super excited to share my second round of simlish magazines with you all! please tag me in pictures if you use them as i would love to see! 🤍

important info:

it requires SYB's mesh which can be found here

includes 4 swatches

price: £100

please do not reupload or claim as your own

if there are any issues let me know!

download / patreon (free)

[kwadlayns]

Ball Boy Hinata at the Shiratorizawa Training Camp. 🏐✨

[tsukk1]

salaryman yamaguchi and his boyfriend mr. museum man tsukishima

[coracat]

⌗ ₍ ˆ｡ꞈ｡̂₎ฅ 💬 :: 𝗵𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗲𝗿𝖾!! ✧ look some sonic characters random icons for you! © official art.

. : 🗯️ ⌗ favorite or reblog if you like it/use it, enjoy!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

[suckishima]

furudate watching that amazingly fun and gut wrenching match between italy and japan and then immediately dropping a new drawing to express just how fun volleyball can be?? furudate we don't deserve you 😭😭😭

[gothoffspring]

chew toys not included. you can use cold water to 'activate' the patterns on her werewolf form like the hearts and stars.

[gojosbf]

serious question why do oikawa and kuroo look so good together

[mintjeru]

olympics 2024 men's volleyball japan vs. argentina match you will always be famous

open for better quality | no reposts

[afterthelambs]

Ushijima-Oikawa parallels with Kageyama-Hinata

To me, Ushijima and Oikawa are like a tragic parallel to Hinata and Kageyama. If Oikawa had gone to Shiratorizawa then he and Ushijima could've had the partnership that Kagehina had. But because he didn't, they will never know what it's like to make the other feel invincible.

Shipping goggles aside, the parallels have to be intentional (haikyuu is too well-written for it to be just a coincidence): Both Ushijima and Kageyama were framed as naturally gifted volleyball monsters. Meanwhile Oikawa and Hinata believed that they were just average (even though the people around them know that they have their own strengths). Ushijima was the one who kept winning against Oikawa, just like how Kageyama was always ahead of Hinata. Both Hinata and Oikawa went abroad to gain experience so they could finally beat their rival. Ushijima and Kageyama are both awkward, intimidating, and ASD-coded while Hinata and Oikawa are framed as easy-going extroverted chatterboxes. These pairs are literally so similar it's crazy. Look at them and tell me it's not intentional

It also makes sense when you consider that their playstyles are also complementary. Kageyama and Hinata were a good match for each other because Hinata needed Kageyama's precision and Kageyama needed someone agile to match his own speed. But Ushijima's only requirement is for the ball to be set high and the right distance from the net so it's easy to hit. And which setter is known for dedicating themselves to their spikers, giving them easy sets? Oikawa. They truly could've been a terrifying duo.

I think Furudate was trying to show what Kageyama and Hinata could've been if they didn't team up. They'd still be strong, sure, but not invincible like they were in Karasuno. (as opposed to the Miya twins, who were supposed to show what they could've been like if they had an equal from the very beginning)

But in the end it all worked out for everyone! They all got to play on the world stage together. Ushijima and Oikawa even had their reconciliation at the all stars match (still waiting on the Oikawa-Kageyama reconciliation please please please 👀). They're all happy so I suppose it isn't actually tragic. I just cant help but wonder what could have been if Ushijima and Oikawa learned what it's like to be each other's greatest ally. Hinata and Kageyama were so lucky to have found each other after all.

[maplewhims]

off-duty cap recolors by maplewhims

i love my alo hat in real life so i thought i’d make a simlish version for all my sims to love as well! i hope you enjoy and if you use please tag me as i would love to see! 🤍

important info:

it requires softerhaze’s mesh which can be found here

includes 6 swatches

please do not reupload or claim as your own

if there are any issues let me know!

download / patreon (free)

[strawberriesandglasses]

FREAK duo

[plumbheadsims]

Lagoona G3 you will always be famous

[suckishima]

just a tiny bokuto peeking in

[bathylychnops]

happy 33rd birthday (yesterday) to this whore !

[kxttqi]

ㅤ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 .

t. kageyama x f!reader ✧  fluff ; swearing ; suga lowkey being a matchmaker

この 物語 で ⇢ you think black nails would look good on him

🎧 ✧ best paired with : movie by junny

ㅤ

the hum of the air conditioner mingles with the distant chatter from the inn’s hallway, filling the room with a murmur. you’re perched on the edge of kageyama’s futon, the warm glow from the bedside lamp casting a gentle light on his focused movements as he stretches his muscles, the shadows playing across the contours of his build.

“you know,” you say, scooting closer to him, “for someone who spends all day setting, you’ve got surprisingly nice hands.”

kageyama freezes mid-stretch, gaze dropping to his hands. he flexes his fingers a few times, as if seeing them anew. “they need to be strong enough for a good toss,” he mutters, his tone unusually soft. you wonder about the countless times these hands have practiced, each toss an attempt to defy gravity and reach perfection.

you lean in closer, surveying the ridges and lines on his palms. “strong, sure. but they’re also... delicate. like they could be doing more than just tossing volleyballs.”

his eyes narrow, a mix of confusion and intensity, a noticeable blush making its way up his cheeks. “what?”

a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “nothing, nothing. but remember our bet? if you made even one bad serve, i’d get to paint your nails.”

kageyama’s face reddens slightly more, and he shifts uncomfortably. “that was a joke. and my serves were perfect.” there’s a stubbornness in his voice, a need to maintain his image, yet the blush betrays a softer side.

you chuckle softly, shaking your head. “perfect, huh? i distinctly remember one that was way too easy for the other team to handle.” 

there’s a flash of annoyance in kageyama’s eyes, but it’s tempered by a reluctant hint of amusement. “...fine. but no weird designs.” 

your triumphant smile widens as you reach into your bag for a small bottle of black nail polish. the bottle shimmers in the soft light, the hue of its dark contents mimicking that of kageyama’s locks. you place your worn-out notebook on your lap as a makeshift table, thoughtless doodles adorning the light brown cover. you unscrew the cap, and the sharp tangy scent of the polish fills the room. 

you take his hand, immediately noticing the warmth of his skin. his hand feels firm, and yet almost fragile. you guide his fingers onto the surface of your notebook gently, before applying the first stroke of polish on his neatly trimmed index nail. you giggle from the way kageyama’s hand flinches subtly from the coolness of the air as it came in contact with the wet polish, and the way he averted his ebony eyes as soon as you look up questioningly. the second you look back down, his focus on your face again. the slight furrow of your brows, and the way you bite your lower lip in concentration—it’s almost mesmerizing. he notices the small details, like a loose strand of hair falling across your forehead and how pretty your eyelashes look from this angle.

you carefully apply the second coat, the polish gliding over his nails with a satisfying smoothness. the brush swishes softly, and kageyama feels the bristles tickling his skin lightly as a spot of black appears to the side of his nail. it’s followed by a small “oh shit” as you quickly use a q-tip to erase the polish before it dried. the scent of the polish mingles with the faint fragrance of your light perfume, a scent he’s come to associate with you, comforting and familiar.

holding his hand up to the light as the final coat dries, the glossy black polish catches the golden glow from the lamp. “there,” you say, satisfaction evident in your voice. “how’d i do?”

kageyama flexes his fingers again, making him feel oddly self-conscious. he glances at your face, seeing the pride in your expression. it’s an expression that makes him feel oddly proud too, despite his earlier reluctance. a small “hmph” is your answer, but you knew his true opinion from the way his eyes held a faint glimmer.

the silence stretches comfortably between you, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner. you suddenly reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, your fingers slotted perfectly between his. kageyama becomes aware of the the subtle sheen of your nails. the polish wasn't a stark white or a vibrant red, but a whisper of color, an echo of your own skin tone. it wasn't a flat, one-note nude, though. a hint of rose shimmered beneath the surface, catching the light like a pearl held up to the sun. it was the kind of shade that drew the eye not with its boldness, but with its elegance. 

“look,” you say, holding both your hands up to the curtain of light. “we’re matching.”

kageyama’s eyes follow the movement, taking in the soft shade of your nails next to the bold black of his. he feels a strange flutter in his chest as he observes the way your fingers curl around his. 

before he can say anything, sugawara’s head pokes around the doorframe, followed closely by hinata’s expression of surprise. “oh? i didn’t know you were into painting your nails, kageyama!”

“i’m not, dumbass!” kageyama’s quick to retaliate as he snatches his hand back, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

sugawara chuckles. “well, if it’s y/n that’s the one doing them, i don’t think he minds.” “no! yes!” kageyama blurts, as you burst out laughing beside him.

you catch sugawara’s not-so-subtle wink as he leaves, dragging a protesting hinata along with him whispering something along the lines of “maybe they’ll confess and kiss if we leave them alone for a bit…”

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

you sit on the bench, heart pounding in rhythm with the squeaking of sneakers and the rhythmic thuds of the ball against the floor. it's day two of the spring tournament and karasuno is facing the powerhouse school, inarizaki. the referee's whistle shrieks, and the first serve lands squarely in daichi's arms, earning a chorus of "nice receive!" from the team. kageyama stands poised, hands outstretched, ready to unleash his signature perfect set. he hears tanaka's yell of "left, kageyama!"

but as kageyama glances at his hands, a flicker of black catches his eye. the nail polish. memories flood back - your warm touch, the scent of your perfume mingling with the polish, the warmth of your hand intertwined with his. his carefully constructed pre-set focus crumbles. the ball hangs in the air, tantalizingly close. his fingers come into contact with the ball far too late, with far too much force. the ball rockets past tanaka's outstretched arms and lands squarely on hinata's face, sending the spiker tumbling backwards with a yelp.

"what the heck, kageyama?!" hinata groans, his hand covering the side of his face.

silence descends upon the court. confusion clouds tanaka's face, daichi raises an eyebrow, and sugawara coughs into his fist, trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh.

"kageyama! what the hell was that?" ukai roars from his place beside you on the bench.

tsukishima chimes in with a smug grin, "looks like the king forgot how to set."

you really are going to be the death of him.

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.