haikyuu-teamwhychoose
Haikyuu Team WhyChoose
Why choose one team when you can cheer and cry for them all? 💗🥲 (a haikyuu only blog)
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Haikyuu!! Siblings [ 53 / ? ]
↳ Kai Nobuyuki: one older sister, one younger brother
All three of them are pretty chill, comparatively 🌊☮
In honor of the new one-shot being from Kai’s perspective!
[ Siblings Masterlist ]
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HINATA NATSU HIGHSCHOOL VOLLEYBALL CAPTAIN OF NIIYAMA GIRLS VOLLEYBALL TEAM IS CANON
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Haikyuu!! Siblings [ 44 / ? ]
↳ Nishinoya Yuu: three older sisters!
They always travel in formation. What kind of formation? Who’s to say, it changes every time 🤸♀️🤸♀️🤸♀️🤸♂️
The exclamation point in “three older sisters!” was included in the guidebook! And his shirt (3 out of 4 characters shown) says “totally ordinary”
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Takeru’s mom<3
Haikyuu!! Siblings [ 45 / ? ]
↳ Oikawa Tooru: one older sister
She practically raised him… but at what cost? 🤡
I caved… just to jump-start Siblings again, I caved and drew a Very Easy™ character. But hopefully now we can keep the engine running! 🚗💨
[ Siblings Masterlist ]
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Haikyuu!! Siblings [ 48 / ? ]
↳ Sasaya Takehito: two older sisters
The girls had a lot of say in their siblings portrait pose… and most other things in their household too, for that matter 🙆♀️
Listen… eventual stay-at-home father Sasaya Takehito who has two older sisters drinks his respect-women juice with every meal 🧃
[ Siblings Masterlist ]
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I 100% bet Pedro, a college student and introvert, has gone to bed when Shoyo, a pro athlete and extrovert, woke up.
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Iwaizumi is the type of guy to come off as a huge asshole solely because he's awkward
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Kindaichi Yuutarou Analysis
Disclaimer: I am not a professional psychologist in any way. I simply find psychology and reading into characters very interesting. Please correct me if I say anything incorrect.
This is also not an anti-Kageyama post. I’m simply trying to put Kindaichi in a new perspective in the most unbiased way I can. I’m only putting information I found from research into this post. Thank you.
Kindaichi is undoubtedly my favorite character in Haikyuu. He’s also one of-what I consider to be- the top most misunderstood characters. No matter the reason for it, a pretty significant chunk of the Haikyuu fandom seems to have a bias against him. And while I can’t force anyone to change their opinion on his character, I’d like to try to describe some of his actions and reactions in another perspective.
This is gonna be a pretty long post, so the rest will be under the cut~!
Keep reading
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Hinata: Can I've a piece of cake from the fridge?
Sugawara: What's the rule?
Hinata, sighing: No cake after dinner.
Sugawara: What- No, that's Daichi's rule. My rule is that you bring me a piece too.
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a childhood bedroom
cw: allusions to divorce/his family dynamic, barely proof-read, holiday comfort for the soul, i'm just soft and love him bye
Ushijima’s bedroom is nothing like the one you share.
His walls are bare, save for a few frames with pictures that are older than the two of you. There’s a bulletin above his desk that’s naked down to the cork, a few tacks littering it at random.
He has his dresser, a small mirror on the wall hanging above it. The room is nearly devoid of colour aside from beige and navy, but the Christmas lights from the house across the street give it some red and green. Not much, but it’s good enough.
You walk along the perimeter of the room, the floors cold, hands tracing over his desk and chair. He watches you from the doorway, the door closing softly behind him as he does. You hear the same floor creak beneath his feet as he crosses to his bed, the frame sighing under his weight.
A print-out picture of him and a redhead (Satori, he’s mentioned) standing side-by-side in school uniforms is framed on said desk, thumbs up on all four of their combined hands. A team in maroon stands tall beside it, and he’s dead center. A three-person family — father, mother, boy — takes up the space beside that, the frame much more sophisticated than the others. He looks about ten.
The clock on his wall tells the time wrong; it hasn’t been reset since he graduated and moved out at eighteen. It looks like it’s a few hours behind, but it’s really telling you time six years back.
“Your walls are so bare,” you comment, turning back to look at him where he’s sat. He offers an almost unnoticeable, lopsided smile. “Where are all the medals, huh? I’ve heard big things about Ushiwaka the Great, you know.”
You’re joking, but he answers, “In my drawer.”
(You check; it’s full of them.)
Ushijima watches you hold them, looking at all of the engravings before setting them back, the years stretching further back the deeper that you dig. It’s like your chest is swelling with pride over things he won before you knew him.
“What is it?” he asks, eyes following you as you cross over to his bed, sitting down to face him. His brows furrow, leaning his back against the headboard that looks so comically small; then his lips tug up at the sight of gold around your neck. His teenage pride rests on your chest.
There is something so invasive about a childhood bedroom, about wearing what once was his entire life as he looks at it — a whole life you didn’t have the chance to watch lays itself out in front of you. This childhood doesn’t exist anymore (maybe it never really did) and yet you see it around you all the same.
(It is invasive, but it is full of love. An empty room that feels so full.)
“Why doesn’t your mother display your medals in the house?” you ask, tilting your head. “Hell, my mom would’ve lined mine up in the window. And your desk is like a trophy factory.”
“It’s not practical, I suppose.”
“So they just sit in here?”
Ushijima looks at you like he’s in thought.
He shrugs. “Mostly,” he says, “My father has a few in California. My player portrait is on his office wall. My mother shows her affection in her own way.”
“Can we take some back home?”
“Why? They’re old.”
“I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “I’ll display them around the room for a bit, swap ‘em out when you rack some up this season.”
Ushijima just chuckles shortly, shaking his head as he moves down the bed, laying down flat. His feet hang off the end a bit, and the pillows are the same as they always were. “If you wish. You know I never stop you from anything.”
You hum. “God, does it echo in here?”
“Sometimes. It never used to.”
“When did it start?”
He knows when. “I’m not sure.”
You know, too. “That’s okay. Our room at home doesn’t echo, at least.”
“No, you won’t let it.”
“Never.”
Ushijima reaches out a hand, his left, and he twirls the medal you picked in his hand. You wear it still, and it looks like it gleams. His eyes flicker up to yours.
“I love you,” you tell him. “You and your empty room.”
He sighs a laugh, one you taught him how to make, and he pulls you into his chest by the ribbon around your neck. He breathes, your head rises and falls with his chest, and the room comes alive; breathing with its maker, welcoming him home the best it can. You certainly help.
Ushijima looks at his bedroom walls, his broken clock; the house is not resetting, his parents’ old bed will always be half full and half made, but he thinks this is enough — coming back with you was enough. Now, when he leaves, he will remember a warm bed and leave to sleep in a warmer one.
“Love?”
“Mm?”
“When we find a home we like enough to live in,” When. Not if, when. “I’d like to paint the walls with you.”
“Ooh, what colour?”
“Not white.”
You grin, angling your head up to see him. Ushijima is looking up at his clock, six years behind like he just got home from training camp, his boxes packed for the city.
(He meets you two years later.)
“Pick a swatch, baby. Just no neons.”
“Oh. I was thinking of a traffic cone orange.”
“Ha-ha.”
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Ginjima: I accidentally ate Osamu's food, how long do you think I'll live?
Atsumu and Suna: Ten.
Ginjima: Ten what?
Atsumu and Suna as Osamu appears around the corner with a knife: Nine.
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WORK WIFE — KUROO TETSUROU
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader
content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)
you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.”
you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer.
you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”
“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”
“‘gentleman,’” you snort.
kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”
“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”
he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”
“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office.
when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”
you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”
kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”
“yeah?”
“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”
“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”
you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”
“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”
“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”
“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”
“you know i always have time for you.”
kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together.
“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”
you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”
he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”
you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you.
it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.
nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask.
he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word.
he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”
he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself.
what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks.
thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”
he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”
“what are you talking about?”
he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”
you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”
“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”
“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”
“really?”
you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”
“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”
“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”
kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”
“good to know you’re a protective husband.”
he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”
“don’t i know it.”
as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”
your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”
a year and a half later.
nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”
“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say.
“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”
you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”
nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”
“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”
you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”
he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”
nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”
“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”
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