Kageyama - Blog Posts

Kageyama scene redraw🍙

Scene

𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐤.𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/136877490-%F0%9D%90%AF%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%A7%F0%9D%90%9D%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A7%F0%9D%90%A0-%F0%9D%90%A6%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%A1%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A7%F0%9D%90%9E-%F0%9D%90%A4-%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%9B%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A8

ハイキュー !! 

 ❝ catching feelings after daily conversations and several packets of yogurt drinks next to a vending machine-yeah, that's our story. ❞

in which two teenagers bond over daily conversations at a vending machine

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵... 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵."

°˖✧ Ishikawa Kaito as KAGEYAMA TOBIO ✧˖°

@animangacreators challenge 3 ✧ alphabet challenge: k

we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 

And then, he thinks, there’s you. 

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 

So he makes a phone call. 

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 

Managerial Duties: Karasuno Pt. 2

Practice was in full swing.

The gym pulsed with life—shoes squeaking, volleyballs echoing like thunder against arms, and shouts bouncing between walls and bodies. Every member of Karasuno was locked into their rhythm, sweaty and determined, moving like cogs in one beautifully chaotic machine. Even Tsukishima and Kageyama hadn’t snapped at each other in a full ten minutes. A miracle.

You stood just off-court, your well-worn notebook tucked under your arm, scribbling quick notes with your favorite pencil. It was smudged with graphite and bite marks from weeks of you chewing the eraser, but it had personality. The court rotations were finally clicking, and Daichi had asked you to track when fatigue set in for Hinata.

Yachi stood a few feet away, stopwatch in hand, glancing nervously between you and the court like she could already feel a storm brewing. You didn't blame her. You'd been with this team long enough to sense disaster. And it was always when things were going too well.

On the court, Kageyama and Hinata were locked in a rally that looked more like a battle. Kageyama’s sets were razor sharp, and Hinata—well, Hinata was grinning like someone had just given him permission to fly.

You looked down to scribble a quick note when your pencil slipped through your fingers.

It bounced once against your shoe, then rolled straight onto the court.

“Seriously?” you muttered, bending to grab it.

One foot stepped just slightly over the line. Just enough.

And from across the gym, like the harbinger of doom:

“Kageyama! Toss me something crazy!”

You looked up.

Hinata was airborne. Silhouetted in the gym lights. Hair tousled, arm cocked back, grinning like a man possessed.

Oh shit—

CRACK.

The volleyball connected square with your face before you could flinch. Pain exploded behind your eyes. Your feet left the floor—literally. Your notebook flung into the air like a paper bird.

You hit the ground with a full-bodied thud. Hard.

Silence followed. Absolute and deafening.

Then—

“OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY!” Hinata shrieked, rooted in place like he'd just committed an unforgivable sin.

“Hinata, you dumbass!” Kageyama barked across the court, the set still lingering in his hands.

Tanaka skidded to a halt next to you, eyes wide. “You flew!”

“Like three feet off the ground!” Noya yelled, already by your side. “I haven’t seen airtime like that since that one pancake save!”

“Shut up!” Daichi barked as he sprinted over.

“Tanaka, Noya—back off!” Sugawara snapped, dropping to his knees beside you.

You blinked, dazed. Your head was throbbing, your ears ringing, and your face—oh god, your face hurt like hell. When you touched your nose, your fingers came away red.

“Oh, cool,” you muttered. “Nosebleed.”

Kiyoko was suddenly there, calm and terrifyingly efficient. She didn’t speak. She simply pressed tissues against your face with steady fingers, her other hand gently cupping your jaw to keep you from tilting your head back.

“Don’t move yet,” she said softly.

Yachi was crying. Not loudly—just little hiccups of panic as she dropped to her knees beside you, clutching the stopwatch like it could save your life.

“She's bleeding,” she whispered. “There’s so much blood…”

“She'll be fine,” Ennoshita said gently, crouching beside her. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you groaned, trying to sit up. “Just give me—”

You braced your palm against the floor, feeling the coolness of the gym through your fingertips. Your legs shifted underneath you, muscles tight with tension but fueled by sheer stubbornness. Slowly, you pushed off the ground and began to rise.

For half a second, it felt like you had it under control.

Then everything spun.

The gym floor rippled beneath your feet, tilting like a boat on rough water. Your vision smeared at the edges—colors blending, lights flickering. A low, sickening throb pulsed behind your eyes, then rushed like a wave toward your temples. You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but your knees buckled sharply.

A startled gasp slipped from your mouth as your body tilted sideways, gravity pulling you down faster than your brain could keep up.

Sugawara and Daichi caught you in unison—each locking an arm around your back with practiced, urgent precision. Like bodyguards. Like anchors.

“Okay, no,” Sugawara said, breath tight as he shifted his stance.

“Absolutely not,” Daichi echoed, voice firm as steel. “Sit. Now.”

They guided you back down to the floor as if you were made of glass.

Asahi hovered a few steps away, nervously wringing his towel. “Should we call someone? Get the school nurse?”

“She’s not on shift right now,” Kinoshita said, pulling out his phone. “Should I call the front desk?”

“Can’t we just carry her?” Narita asked, eyes wide. “I mean—not like drag her, but—gently?”

“She’s not a sack of rice!” Yachi exclaimed, clutching your notebook like it was her emotional support item. “We can’t just—lug her around!”

“I can carry her!” Asahi offered, visibly panicking. “I mean, if—if she wants. Or not. But I can! I swear!”

“No!” You and Daichi said simultaneously.

“You don’t have to drag her to the nurse’s office,” Tanaka muttered, half-serious, half-pouting. “We could just… y’know. Roll her in something.”

“Like a blanket burrito,” Noya added helpfully.

“Shut up!” came Daichi’s bark again.

Behind the main group, Tsukishima stood with his arms crossed. “That’s what happens when you step onto the court during a rally.”

Yamaguchi, crouching beside him, frowned. “She looks pretty hurt, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima shrugged but said nothing else.

“I didn’t mean to,” Hinata said suddenly, his voice soft, wavering. “It was just one more spike. I didn’t think…”

You tilted your head toward him, barely mustering a tired smile beneath the tissues. “Nice spike, though.”

He looked like he was going to cry.

“We should get her to the nurse,” Ennoshita said again, glancing toward the exit. “Even if no one’s in, it’s quieter there.”

“I’m coming too,” Kiyoko said, standing and brushing off her skirt. “Yachi, grab her bag.”

Daichi and Sugawara gently pulled you to your feet again, this time slower, with careful pauses between every movement. You leaned against them, breathing through the dizziness as they helped you to the door.

Behind you, the gym buzzed in confused silence.

“You’re too brave for this world,” Tanaka whispered with reverence.

“She’s got that dog in her,” Noya added solemnly.

“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS!” Daichi yelled over his shoulder.

As the doors closed behind you, you heard one last frantic voice.

“I’ll bring a fruit basket! I’LL MAKE TEA!” Hinata shouted, his panic echoing across the gym.

You groaned. “Please don’t.”

Your writing is incredible!! You’re so good at being immersive oh my GOSH! (I can’t count the number of times I’ve re-read Jealousy: Kageyama, you characterize him so well 😭)

And the favorite positions series is getting me into characters I didn’t even like reading about before it’s SO good!

If you’re up for it, I’d love to see a favorite position for Kageyama! But regardless, I always look forward to your posts and I hope you’re doing well 💜

Thank you so, so much for this message—you have no idea how much it means to me 🥹💜

The fact that you’ve reread my work and that the Favorite Positions series has you loving characters you didn’t think you would?? That’s literally the dream 🫠

And of course—Kageyama? I had to do him justice. I’m so happy you asked because this one poured out of me lolol Thank you and Enjoy heheh <333

--

Favourite Positions: Kageyama

Kageyama had always been a little obsessive.

It came with the territory. The long hours spent perfecting tosses, the constant demand for precision, the way his mind clung to rhythm and structure like lifelines. He wasn’t the kind of man who acted on impulse. Every action had intent. Every motion, down to his breathing, felt like it came with weight. Control wasn’t just a habit. It was a necessity.

But when it came to you, all of that discipline started to unravel.

He liked watching you ride him.

More than liked it—he craved it.

Not just because of the view, though that alone could bring him to his knees. Not just because of how warm, how tight, how slick you felt around him. It was because, when you were on top, he could finally let go. Let his body move without thinking. Let his focus shift away from control and into sensation. Into you.

Let go of pressure. Let go of performance. Let go of everything except you.

Tonight, it was slow.

Dim lighting spilled across the room, golden and soft. The sheets were tangled beneath you both, slightly damp from heat and friction. Your knees were on either side of his hips, thighs flushed pink with effort. He lay back against the pillows, hands resting on your waist like he was grounding himself, knuckles white from restraint.

His head was tilted back, jaw slack, brows drawn together, his breath hitching every time you sank down onto him. The soft gasps he tried to bite back made your skin prickle.

“F-fuck,” he whispered, voice already hoarse, fingers digging into your waist. "You feel so good."

You moved slowly, intentionally, savoring every second of the way his cock dragged inside you. You could feel every twitch of his muscles beneath your palms, every exhale he let out between clenched teeth. Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was transfixed.

Your hands slid up his chest, finding purchase at his shoulders as you rolled your hips just right—and he let out a low, broken moan, his entire body twitching beneath you.

His fingers flexed like he wanted to grab you tighter. Like he wanted to take over. But he didn’t.

He didn’t ask to change positions. Didn’t flip you beneath him. Didn’t thrust up into you like he had so many times before when desperation overtook his instincts.

He just watched.

Like he was memorizing everything.

The way your body moved in the low light. The soft sheen of sweat on your collarbones. The way your lips parted every time you dropped your hips a little faster. The soft gasp you made when you ground your hips down and caught just the right angle that made your thighs tremble.

It was overwhelming.

He was trying so hard to hold back. You could see it—the tension in his neck, the way his abs flexed with every movement, how his grip on your hips kept faltering between loose and desperate.

And then you leaned in.

You kissed his jaw. Traced your lips down to his throat. Murmured something against his ear. Something soft. Something filthy. Something about how good he felt inside you. How wrecked he looked. How badly you wanted to see him come apart.

His whole body jolted.

His eyes fluttered shut. His hips bucked up into you before he could stop himself. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you down hard onto him—deep, tight, perfect.

That was it.

He came hard.

Breath caught in his throat, head tipping back into the pillows, brows pinched tight as he groaned your name like it was the only word he knew. His whole body trembled, thighs flexing beneath you, abs tightening, cock twitching inside you as he spilled into you, hot and sudden and overwhelming.

You blinked down at him in surprise, breathless and flushed, still pulsing around him as your own orgasm threatened to catch up to his. The heat between you was dizzying.

His hands softened, moving to cradle your hips gently as he blinked up at you, dazed, skin flushed all the way to his chest.

"Sorry," he muttered, cheeks red, voice thick with apology. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, brushing his damp bangs back from his forehead, fingers gentle. "Don’t apologize."

You leaned down, kissed his cheek, and let your forehead rest against his.

His hands ghosted over your thighs, uncertain, still grounding himself.

And that’s when it hit him.

You hadn’t been trying to overwhelm him.

You were savoring it.

The way he looked beneath you—blushed, breathless, barely holding it together.

The way his hands twitched like he didn’t know what to do with all the sensation.

The way he let you have him.

And for the first time in his life, Kageyama realized he liked being the one who lost focus.

Confessions: Tsukishima

By third year, you'd think you and Tsukishima would've grown out of it—that exhausting little game you two played. Bickering like it was a sport, tension so thick the rest of the team had stopped trying to intervene. Kageyama used to flinch when you raised your voice. Yamaguchi had once tried to play mediator until Tsukishima shut him down with a look. Now everyone just let it happen. It was routine. Expected. Like the sun rising or Hinata yelling.

But even routines fray when they go unchecked.

Practice had been winding down when Yachi leaned in closer, her voice hushed just enough not to carry over the sound of the guys drilling serves. You were both by the bench, pretending to organize water bottles, but really—you were gossiping.

"I mean… he’s cute," she said, trying to hide her smile behind her clipboard. "And he’s nice. The captain of the basketball team asking you out isn’t nothing—you could give it a shot, right?"

You rolled your eyes, glancing toward the court—though your gaze snagged on a tall blond figure for half a second too long. "Yeah. Maybe. He’s handsome, smart, polite."

It was a lie.

You didn’t want nice.

You wanted someone else.

Someone whose voice grated on your nerves, who always had a snide comment for everything you did, who knew exactly how to provoke you and never held back.

You wanted someone who made you feel something.

Now the gym was quiet. Yachi had left twenty minutes ago, and you were the only one left locking up.

Or so you thought.

The doors creaked.

You turned, already annoyed. "I'm about to lock up—"

Tsukishima.

He stood in the doorway like he owned the place, one strap of his bag over his shoulder, golden eyes steady. Annoyingly calm. He didn’t even flinch at your tone.

You rolled your eyes. "Forgot your headphones again? Or do you just enjoy making my job harder?"

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze sharp. Too focused.

Then he said it. Like it wasn’t the most jarring thing to say after a week full of snipes and insults.

“Don’t date him.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I said,”—he stepped closer—“don’t date him.”

You stared, mouth parting. You hated the way your pulse jumped. Hated it more because it was him.

“…Are you serious right now?”

His jaw clenched, but his voice stayed even. “Yeah.”

You laughed. Sharp. Bitter. “What, you get to talk shit to me every day and then play jealous boyfriend when someone else shows interest?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it, Tsukishima?”

Silence.

And then, finally, something cracks in his expression. Not a smile. Not exactly. More like surrender.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered. “But you’re all I think about.”

That shut you up. Just for a second.

He looked away first. “I’m not asking you to like me back. Just… don’t date him.”

You folded your arms, heartbeat loud in your ears. “That’s a shitty confession.”

He glanced back, and for once, his smirk was small. Almost nervous. "Would you have taken it seriously if I said it any other way?"

You paused.

“…Maybe.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "And Captain of the basketball team? Even you know you could do better. Guy probably thinks a free throw line is romantic."

There was bite in it. Smugness too—the kind that always laced his voice when he thought he had the upper hand. But underneath the jab was something messier, unspoken. Something that sounded too much like 'I care' for either of you to ignore.

But you laughed, and as you stepped past him, you caught a fistful of his collar and yanked him down just enough to crash your lips against his—firm, unrelenting, like every argument you two had ever had boiled down into a single moment.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.

You broke the kiss just as abruptly, brushing past him with heat still prickling at your cheeks.

“Just take me out this Saturday, asshole.”

Managerial Duties: Karasuno

The rhythmic sound of volleyballs being packed away and shoes scuffing against the polished gym floor filled the otherwise quiet space. Practice had ended, but cleanup was still in full swing. You, Yachi, and Kiyoko had stayed behind to help, making sure everything was back in place before leaving. The rest of the team was scattered around, gathering equipment and wiping down surfaces, their movements routine after countless practices.

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were putting away the practice net while Asahi and Suga worked on reorganizing the stray volleyballs left rolling across the floor. Daichi had stepped out to check on something, leaving you with the quiet murmur of post-practice exhaustion settling in. Kageyama was off to the side, sipping from his water bottle while keeping an eye on Hinata’s usual spot. The gym carried an air of mild fatigue, a contrast to the high-energy chaos that had occupied it just minutes ago.

That’s when Yachi’s voice cut through the calm. "Where are they?"

You looked up from where you had been wiping down one of the benches, catching the way Yachi’s brows furrowed, her gaze darting around the gym like she had just realized something was missing.

"Who?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the answer.

"Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Hinata. They’re gone."

Your movements slowed as you scanned the gym again, this time with sharper focus. Sure enough, the usual ruckus that followed the three of them like a storm cloud was eerily absent. Your stomach dropped slightly, already knowing that their silence was far more concerning than their noise. It was never a good sign when they were quiet—never.

Kiyoko sighed, finishing her task before speaking. "Can you go find them? They need to be supervised."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Aye aye, captain."

But you knew what she meant. If they were up to something—and they most certainly were—it was better to find them before they actually did whatever half-brained scheme they had cooked up this time. With a nod, you handed your rag to Yachi and stepped out of the gym, making your way toward the clubroom with a sense of impending doom curling in your chest. The halls were eerily quiet, save for the occasional squeak of sneakers against linoleum, and that only furthered your suspicions.

As you got closer, muffled voices reached your ears, their tones a mix of excitement and hushed anticipation. That was never a good sign. You pressed closer, listening as Nishinoya’s voice carried through the door.

"Steady, steady! Just a little more—"

You didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open, and the sight before you made you stop in your tracks.

What the actual hell.

Nishinoya was perched on Tanaka’s shoulders, gripping a bucket of water with both hands while wobbling precariously. Tanaka, legs slightly bent, was visibly struggling to keep steady, his teeth gritted in effort. Off to the side, Hinata was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists clenched in excitement, watching the process unfold like a kid on Christmas morning.

Your eyes flickered to the bucket, then back to the three of them. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

All three of them froze. Nishinoya’s grip tightened on the bucket, Tanaka swayed slightly, and Hinata turned toward you with an enormous grin, completely oblivious to the growing sense of dread pooling in your gut.

"Oh! Manager! You’re just in time!" Nishinoya chirped, grinning like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar but still thinking he could talk his way out of trouble.

Tanaka groaned under Nishinoya’s weight, his arms tightening around his legs as he tried to keep his balance. "We’re gonna prank Tsukishima!" he declared with absolute confidence, as if this wasn’t one of the worst ideas they had ever come up with.

Hinata, practically vibrating with excitement, threw his hands up like he had just scored the winning point. "I’m the bait!" he announced proudly, beaming at you like you should be impressed.

You blinked at him, not even bothering to hide your disbelief. "That’s not something to be proud of. Why did you guys drag him into this?" You jabbed a finger in Hinata’s direction, because there was no way he had come up with this on his own. He was many things, but this level of reckless planning was usually Nishinoya and Tanaka’s specialty.

Hinata blinked, looking genuinely confused as he tilted his head. "Tsukishima?" he asked, his tone innocent. "Or me?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Never mind. This is a terrible idea."

Nishinoya, ever the stubborn one, pouted. "Come on, it’s perfect! Tsukishima walks in, bam! Instant karma!"

You crossed your arms, eyeing the way Tanaka’s legs were starting to tremble. "Yeah, except karma usually doesn’t involve potential concussions and water damage."

"Okay, but look!" Nishinoya beamed, adjusting his grip. "It’s balancing! We got this!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "No, you don’t—"

Too late. Nishinoya made the final adjustment, and the bucket settled, wobbling slightly before holding steady above the doorway. With a triumphant grin, Nishinoya pumped his fists—only to realize he was still on Tanaka’s shoulders. In a flash, he scrambled down, nearly toppling them both in the process. Tanaka staggered, arms flailing to keep himself upright as Nishinoya hopped off, landing with an eager bounce before spinning toward Hinata. "Alright! We’re good to go!" he whispered excitedly, rubbing his hands together like an evil mastermind.

Hinata gasped. "It worked!"

"It worked!" Nishinoya hissed.

You groaned. "This is still a bad idea."

But they weren’t listening. With a determined nod, Hinata scampered back toward the gym, his voice carrying through the hall. "Tsukishima! Oi, come here for a sec!"

Silence.

Then—

Footsteps, slow and steady, echoed through the hallway. Each step was deliberate, methodical, like the sound of impending doom marching ever closer. Tanaka, Nishinoya, and you turned toward the doorway in perfect synchronization, a creeping sense of dread washing over you like an oncoming storm. The playful anticipation that had been buzzing in the air evaporated, leaving behind only the cold bite of realization.

Daichi appeared in the doorway, and time seemed to slow. The bucket teetered precariously for a split second before tipping forward, a perfect arc of water cascading down in slow motion. The moment it made contact, Daichi’s entire frame stiffened, his breath hitching as the cold liquid soaked through his hair, dripping down his face and pooling in the folds of his jacket. His usually composed expression was eerily blank, too calm, too quiet, which somehow made everything infinitely worse.

Tanaka’s face morphed from exhilaration to pure horror, his eyes so wide they looked ready to pop out of his skull. Nishinoya’s grin faltered, his entire body rigid as his mind struggled to process the disaster that had just unfolded. And you? You could already feel the headache forming, your lips parting slightly in silent resignation.

Hinata, standing just behind Daichi, let out a small, strangled noise. "No, wait! Don’t—!"

Splash.

The air went still. Slowly, you peeked around the doorframe just in time to see Daichi standing there, drenched from head to toe. Water dripped from his hair, his jacket clinging to him in soaked patches. His expression was eerily blank, which was infinitely worse than immediate rage.

Hinata was mid-step, looking like he had seen his life flash before his eyes.

Tanaka and Nishinoya were frozen, as if staying completely still would erase what had just happened.

The silence stretched, unbearably tense.

You exhaled through your nose and turned away. "I told you."

Then, without another word, you walked off, leaving them to their fate.

Behind you, all hell broke loose.

"YOU IDIOTS!" Daichi’s voice roared, shaking the very foundation of the building.

"RUN!" Nishinoya shrieked, bolting toward the hallway with the kind of agility that came only from the fear of divine punishment. His feet barely touched the ground as he shot past you, arms pumping as if sheer speed could somehow make him disappear from Daichi’s wrath.

Hinata scrambled backward, hands raised in surrender. "It wasn’t me, I swear!"

Kageyama, who had been returning from the locker room, took one look at the chaos and deadpanned, "You guys are so dumb."

Asahi groaned, covering his face. "I don’t want to be associated with this."

Back in the gym, you rejoined Yachi and Kiyoko just as Daichi’s furious yelling echoed in the distance.

Kiyoko barely looked up from where she was stacking volleyballs. "They’re idiots."

You sighed, running a hand down your face. "Hundred percent."

Jealousy: Kageyama

The gym was buzzing with the usual chaos of Karasuno’s practice. Balls flying, sneakers squeaking, Hinata screaming.

Kageyama was not paying attention to any of it.

Instead, his eyes were locked onto the far side of the gym, where you were sitting on the bench, laughing your ass off.

At Nishinoya and Tanaka.

Which was unacceptable.

It had been happening for way too long now—every time he glanced over, you were giggling, eyes bright with amusement as those two idiots animatedly told who-knows-what story.

And Kageyama?

Kageyama was seething.

(He wouldn’t call it jealousy—because that would be stupid—but something in his chest felt annoyingly tight every time you laughed at their jokes.)

He tried to focus on practice, he really did, but then—another laugh.

A full, genuine laugh from you, and he felt something snap.

With zero hesitation, Kageyama turned on his heel and glared.

Not just a regular glare.

A death glare.

A "you’re-about-to-lose-your-starter-position" glare.

And it worked instantly.

Tanaka and Nishinoya froze mid-sentence, their bodies stiffening as if they’d just sensed a predator. Slowly—very, very slowly—they turned their heads to see Kageyama staring daggers at them from across the gym.

“What the hell—” Tanaka whispered.

Nishinoya gulped. “Why is he looking at us like that?”

“I don’t know, man.”

“What did we do?”

You, completely unaware, blinked as your two friends immediately folded.

“Uh… haha, anyway, gotta go warm up!” Tanaka said way too loudly, slapping Nishinoya on the back.

“Yeah, yeah! Super important practice stuff!” Nishinoya agreed, standing so fast he nearly tripped over the bench. “We, uh—see ya later!”

Before you could even respond, the two had already bolted back onto the court, shooting each other nervous glances like they had just escaped certain doom.

You frowned, watching them go. Weird.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a familiar tall figure standing near the net.

Oh.

You smiled. So that’s what this was about.

Hopping off the bench, you made your way over to him.

Kageyama pretended not to notice, looking very intently at nothing in particular.

When you stopped right in front of him, tilting your head with an amused grin, he finally gave you a half-second glance.

“You okay there, Tobio?”

“...I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow.

A beat of silence.

Then, arms still crossed, his voice grumbled out,

“…What was so funny anyway?”

Your smile grew.

Oh. That was adorable.

Without a second thought, you went up on your tippy-toes and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his cheek.

Kageyama went rigid.

His ears turned red instantly.

You pulled back, hands on your hips, grinning up at him.

“Still jealous?” you teased.

Kageyama, glowering at the floor, muttered under his breath,

“…Shut up.”