"𝙈𝘼𝙔𝘽𝙀 𝙄𝙁 𝙄 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝘾𝙍𝙔, 𝙄 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝘼𝙉𝙔𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙀."
☔︎︎ || Where basketball prodigy, Miya Y/n's kindness is taken for granted and her skills are ignored, leaving her cold and forgotten in the shadows of her ignorant broth...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A COUPLE OF MONTHS LATER:
"MOOOVE!" A voice booms, stomping towards where you sat. Glancing at the tall figure, you watch your father approach you.
In the living room at your home was where you sat, the sunshine flowing into the room and warming the wooden floorboards. Lively chatter leaves the teenagers mouths that fill the room, whether they be on the couches surrounding the tv or on the ground.
Shifting aside and clearing a spot for ( D/n ) to sit, you grumble when he flops onto the couch lazily. Extending an arm towards you, ( D/n ) offers a packet of lollies.
"Don't we have enough snacks?" Akira sweat drops from the floor. He sat on the soft rug, leaning against the couch to your left with concerned eyes.
He wasn't wrong, five bowls of lollies, a bag of popcorn and two packets of chips were more than enough for two fully grown men, eight teenage boys and yourself.
"As if." Suna scoffs, fingers tapping on the lit-up tiles on his phone. Aran sighs and shakes his head when Suna begins screeching at Atsumu for fucking up his score by kicking his leg.
"I think we could do with one more packet of chips." Another voice cheers, raising one in the air.
Kurihara smiles brightly, opening his packet of chips before handing it to Nakamura who sat beside you.
