b1xi

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

A/N: In my language and in some others there is no phonetic difference between ch and sh, hence the reason for reader confusion.

You were more nervous than you'd ever admit. There was no real reason to be — you were just going to study, that’s all. But your stomach clearly hadn’t gotten the message, twisting into tight knots, and your palms were quietly sweating.

Kei stood beside you, calmly rummaging through his backpack for the keys. You avoided looking directly at him, pretending to be interested in the small planter by the front door, though you couldn’t focus on it at all.

He’d offered to come over to your place, but you’d refused. Your parents were still at work, and your sister wouldn’t have let you live it down if she saw you show up with a boy. Especially that boy.

“Got them,” Kei finally said, pulling out the keychain and gently pushing the door open. He stepped aside to let you go in first.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, stepping hesitantly into the genkan. Kei calmly began to take off his shoes, and even though you weren’t used to it — your family still kept a few Western habits — you instinctively followed his lead.

The inside of the house was warmly lit, with the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the hallway windows. You hadn’t taken more than two steps in when a woman’s voice called out from deeper in the house:

“Kei? You home already?”

You froze for a second, unsure whether to step back or stay put. Kei just let out a quiet sigh and answered,

“Yeah, Mom.”

Footsteps approached, and soon a tall, slender woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a kind expression appeared at the end of the hall. Her eyes went straight to her son, but quickly shifted when she saw you.

“Oh… I didn’t know you were bringing someone,” she said politely, though there was a trace of curiosity in her tone.

Kei glanced at you briefly, then looked back at his mother. For a split second, his usual stoic expression wavered, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks—subtle, but noticeable in the soft entryway light.

“If I forgot to mention it—this is [Name], my girlfriend,” he said calmly, scratching the side of his neck.

His mother’s surprised expression slowly melted into a smile—first one of disbelief, then something warmer. She looked at the way you stood there, a little stiff, your hands nervously near your bag, and then at her son, who had just set aside his usual cool demeanor to take that small step of honesty.

“Ah… I see,” she replied, trying to sound casual, though her expression betrayed a hint of emotion. “Well, welcome. I’m Kei’s mom — it’s a pleasure to meet you. Make yourself at home,” she added with a small bow.

“It’s nice to meet you… thank you for having me,” you murmured, bowing politely as your cheeks burned with warmth.

Kei brushed your wrist gently, guiding you further into the house with a light touch.

“Let’s go to my room,” he said in that low, familiar voice, nodding toward the stairs.

You nodded silently and followed him, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your steps. At the top of the stairs, Kei turned right, leading you down a hallway bathed in the muted light coming through a tall window. He stopped in front of a door that was slightly ajar and pushed it open gently, stepping aside to let you in.

His room was exactly how you’d imagined it — clean, minimal, with everything in its place. On the left, a tall bookshelf held perfectly arranged books, neatly labeled folders, and a few carefully bound notebooks. The wide, organized desk looked more suited for focused study sessions than the usual cluttered chaos of yours. And the bed, flawlessly made, completed the image of a meticulously kept space.

Still, there were little details that broke through all that composure — and they made you smile. A neatly pressed school shirt hung beside the desk, ready for the next day, and nestled between the pillows on the bed was a small triceratops plush, like a childhood secret he wasn’t quite ready to let go of. Kei noticed your glance and quickly tossed his backpack onto the bed, casually hiding the dinosaur — though the faint flush on his cheeks gave him away.

The bookshelf held more signs of this quiet contrast — dinosaur figures, some mid-roar, others simply decorative. A silent collection that didn’t quite match his usual serious demeanor.

“Sit wherever you like,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes for a moment as he headed to the desk and began pulling out his study materials.

You settled on the impeccably clean rug, crossing your legs naturally and leaning your back against the edge of the bed. From there, you had a clear view of Kei’s careful movements as he arranged his books and notebooks on the desk — as if he already had a mental map of the order in which he planned to teach you everything.

The moment he sat down in front of you, his expression shifted into something focused and serious. It didn’t take long to realize that when it came to teaching, Tsukishima Kei was methodical, patient… and surprisingly strict. He wouldn’t let a single formula slide, corrected your mistakes with precision, and repeated explanations until he was sure you truly understood. His voice was clear, steady, but firm — the kind of tone that didn’t just want you to get it; he wanted you to master it.

And at first, you listened intently. You really did.

But at some point, your focus started to slip. You weren’t exactly sure when you stopped following the explanation. Maybe it was when he leaned in to point at a formula with his pencil, his face closer to yours than usual. Or maybe it was the way the warm light in the room outlined his features, making him look even more serious, more grown-up… more handsome than you usually dared to admit out loud.

While he talked about functions and derivatives, all you could do was watch how his eyes moved intently across the page, how his voice dropped slightly when he read something under his breath, how his fingers spun the pencil between corrections. You tried to look attentive, to stay on track, but your mind started drifting — not toward numbers, but to thoughts that had nothing to do with math.

Of course, he had to notice. Kei always noticed.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asked, frowning, his eyes fixed on your face.

His tone wasn’t particularly harsh, but it was firm enough to make you sit up straighter on instinct. Kei set the pencil down on the notebook with almost surgical precision, then crossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, giving you that analytical look of his.

“You’ve been nodding for a while without actually paying attention,” he added with a quiet sigh. “Do you even know what I just explained?”

You blinked, trying to piece together the last thing you’d heard. Something about square roots. Or was it exponentials?

Kei raised an eyebrow at your hesitant expression, like someone confirming an obvious suspicion.

“Knew it,” he muttered, tilting his head slightly. “I’m not explaining this for fun. If you’re not going to focus, just say so, and we’ll stop wasting time.”

“I just spaced out for a second,” you mumbled, crossing your arms as you glanced away toward the graph paper spread out in front of you—covered in formulas, calculations, and equations that suddenly looked more confusing than ever. “I need a break.”

Kei watched you in silence for a few seconds, as if trying to figure out how much of that was true and how much was just an excuse. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Fine,” he said quietly, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take a break… but just ten minutes.”

“Yay,” you whispered with relief, letting the pencil fall from your hand as you stretched your arms over your head. The tension in your shoulders started to ease, and your eyes wandered curiously around the room.

The air settled into a calm silence, broken only by the faint sound of voices downstairs. You recognized Kei’s mom, chatting animatedly with a male voice you didn’t recognize.

Meanwhile, Tsukishima had slowly gotten up from the floor, pushing his backpack to the side of the bed before flopping onto it face down with a sigh that clearly spoke of exhaustion. It wasn’t surprising—practice that afternoon had been especially tough. Ukai had been pushing them harder with the upcoming match, and the whole team was feeling it.

Your gaze landed on the triceratops plush now lying near the edge of the bed, half-hidden by Kei’s body. Without thinking too much about it, you picked it up, noticing how soft and slightly worn it was.

“Nervous about the match against Johzenji?” you asked casually, turning the plush over in your hands as you studied it.

Kei barely lifted his face from the pillow, his golden eyes peeking at you over the blanket, his glasses now resting nearby.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, leaning back a little with the triceratops plush resting in your lap. Your fingers brushed over its soft fabric, noticing a slightly frayed seam on one of its legs. Your voice turned more thoughtful as you added, “That guy, Terushima... the one we saw after the Seijoh match. He looked kind of intimidating.”

Tsukishima let out a short exhale — something between a scoff and a disbelieving laugh.

“Intimidating?” Kei repeated, turning his head slightly toward you as he rested a hand on his stomach. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “He looked ridiculous with all those piercings.”

“I think they look cool,” you said casually, turning onto your knees to face him, still clutching the triceratops in your arms. “He’s even got one on his tongue, did you notice?”

Kei raised an eyebrow slowly, his expression flickering from surprise to a lopsided, almost teasing grin.

“On his tongue, huh?” he echoed, pushing himself up onto one elbow so he could get a better look at you. “And how’d you notice that? Were you staring at his mouth the whole time?”

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks, but he didn’t let up.

“What kind of weirdo does that, huh?” he went on, sitting up a bit more with that sly smile of his. “Were you just mesmerized by how he moved his tongue or something?”

“No!” you shot back instantly, covering your face with one hand as the blush crept up to your ears. “It was just… a detail. I noticed it, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded with mock seriousness, settling back more comfortably on the bed while watching you with obvious amusement. “Totally normal. Just a little ‘detail.’ Sure.”

“You always have to ruin every conversation,” you muttered, turning your back to him with a soft sigh.

“Alright, alright. Let’s change the subject,” he offered, glancing over at the desk where a few papers were still waiting to be reviewed.

You nodded and slowly turned back to face him, doing your best to pull yourself together.

“Anyway…” you began, but the words trailed off when you noticed he had moved—slowly dragging himself across the bed until he was right next to you.

Kei leaned on his left elbow, resting his cheek against his hand, his eyes locked onto yours.

And without a word—no warning, no shift in expression—he leaned in.

The kiss was quick, quiet, and precise. A warm brush of his lips that left you breathless, so sudden you barely had time to process it. He pulled back just a second later, his face calm, as if what he’d just done was the most ordinary thing in the world.

“What…?” you whispered, stunned, your cheeks already heating up.

“Break’s over,” he said in his usual blunt, bossy tone—like the kiss had never even happened. He turned back toward the desk with irritating ease, picking up the worksheets as if he’d been waiting on you for ages.

You stared at him in silence for a moment, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in mood.

But you played along, refocusing your attention on the sheets of paper—what a ridiculous weirdo, you thought as you started rewriting the equations on a fresh page.

-------------------------

You adjusted the strap of your canvas bag on your shoulder as you followed the team’s pace, staying toward the back alongside Hinata and Kageyama, who were laughing enthusiastically at some joke Tanaka and Nishinoya had just made. There were still several hours before the match would start, and the team had left school early to arrive with plenty of time. The gym they reached was noticeably more crowded than the day before. Teams from different schools moved back and forth, the buzz of laughter, greetings, and footsteps echoing off the walls, creating a lively yet overwhelming atmosphere.

They finally found a free spot near one of the emergency exits. Without hesitation, you dropped your bag with a sigh of relief, the weight starting to ease off your shoulders. You bent down to rummage inside and pulled out a flexible-covered notebook and a pen. You had to take attendance, making sure everyone had arrived and no one had gotten lost on the way.

You sat down on the floor, legs crossed, and wrote the date and time clearly at the top of the page before beginning to call out the team members’ names aloud, following the usual order: starting with the captain and moving down through the starters.

“Sawamura Daichi…”

“Here!” he replied firmly, briefly raising his hand.

“Sugawara Koushi…”

“Present!”

“Azumane Asahi…”

“Here.”

Marking each name with a small check next to the corresponding line, the sound of pages turning and the background murmur of the gym mingled as you continued calling out.

“Tanaka Ryūnosuke…”

“Here, miss!” he shouted theatrically, earning an annoyed glance from Daichi.

“Nishinoya Yū…”

“Present and ready to win!”

You frowned slightly but couldn’t help smiling at his boundless energy. You kept marking the names, leaving the newest members for last.

“Hinata Shōyō…”

“Here!” he answered with his usual enthusiasm, raising his hand as if in class.

“Kageyama Tobio…”

“Present,” came the firm voice from your right.

“Tsukishima Kei…”

“Here,” he replied with little interest, raising his voice just enough.

You moved on to the last name on the list, lowering your tone slightly as you read:

“Yamaguchi Tadachi…”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed Tsukishima slowly turn his head toward you.

“It’s Tadashi,” he corrected quietly, a mix of annoyance and teasing in his voice.

“I said it right,” you responded immediately, raising an eyebrow. You looked back at the sheet in your hands and pointed with your pen. “Tadashi,” you repeated, this time more carefully, reading the kanji precisely.

Yamaguchi, who had remained calm by the side until then, raised his hand with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry, really. A lot of people get it wrong,” he said conciliatorily. “You also pronounce Kinoshita strangely… and sometimes Narita sounds like you say ‘Narika.’”

Just then, Hinata, who had stood beside you, received a light pinch on the arm.

“Hey! What was that?” he complained with a grimace.

“You just watch me make a fool of myself and say nothing!” you retorted, narrowing your eyes. “What a great friend you turned out to be.”

“It’s just… I thought it was funny,” he admitted without the slightest remorse. “You said it so confidently, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

You looked at him incredulously as he shrugged, still smiling.

“Ugh,” you sighed, dropping your shoulders in resignation as you put the notebook away. “Next time I mess something up, at least clear your throat or something, okay?”

“No promises,” he said, putting his hands behind his head with a wide grin—just as Daichi started giving the group instructions to organize warm-up rotations.

You sighed again, rolling your eyes with a barely concealed smile, and followed the rest of the team onto the court. No matter how much he got on your nerves, you couldn’t help but like him. Though, you were definitely keeping track of a few more pinches on his tab.

“Hold this for me,” Tsukishima said in his usual tone of feigned indifference, handing you his black-framed glasses as he adjusted the sports goggles he’d wear for warm-up. “Don’t drop them, they’re my favorites.”

“Yes, sir!” you responded with a touch of drama, bringing a hand to your forehead in a salute before putting on the glasses out of pure curiosity.

As soon as you set them on your nose, your vision instantly blurred, as if the world had lost focus. You blinked several times, forcing your eyes toward Tsukishima’s face, which now looked distorted and farther away.

“How can you see with these...?” you murmured, squinting, while he gave you a look full of skepticism.

“Maybe because I’m half blind,” Tsukishima replied, adjusting his sports goggles with a slight grimace. “Take them off already, you’ll hurt your eyes.”

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his blond bangs even more before fixing his gaze on you. His eyes, hidden behind the new lenses, stared at your face with unexpected intensity. You said nothing, caught off guard by the way he was looking at you, as if he were analyzing something even you didn’t quite understand.

Without warning, he leaned forward slightly and raised both hands, cupping your cheeks in his palms. He pressed gently, making your cheeks puff out a little as he held your face like he was studying a sculpture.

“You look ridiculous with my glasses on,” he said flatly, though a hint of amusement tugged at the corners of his lips.

You opened your mouth to reply, but struggled because he was holding your face, just as a loud voice interrupted the moment.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tanaka shouted, pointing at you both with exaggerated surprise. “Tsukki and Y/N are dating!?”

Immediately, several heads turned—some with teasing smiles, others with genuine curiosity. Nishinoya burst out laughing, while Hinata blinked, confused, glancing back and forth between the two of you like he needed visual confirmation.

“First years already have girlfriends before the third years…?” Asahi muttered, shrugging with a defeated look.

“Since when are you two even a thing?!” Nishinoya yelled, pointing at you as he and Tanaka approached.

“That explains why Tsukki’s been less grumpy lately!” Tanaka added, having gotten way too close, wearing an exaggerated detective expression. “Come on, confess! First kiss? First date? How’d you do it, Tsukishima?”

The situation was getting out of hand until a large hand firmly grabbed Tanaka and Nishinoya by the collars. Daichi pulled them back effortlessly, making both let out small groans of protest.

“That’s none of your business, busybodies,” he said in an authoritative tone, though his slightly raised eyebrow gave away that he was holding back a smile. “You two, go warm up already. And you,” he added, nodding lightly at Tsukishima and you, “congratulations… whatever it is you’ve got going on.”

The tension broke immediately with the team’s laughter, even Kageyama cracked a small smile watching Tanaka being dragged away. Tsukishima just muttered “ridiculous” as he walked off, though his ears were visibly red. You, meanwhile, tried to keep your composure while gathering your notebook—but the smile spreading across your face was impossible to hide.

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

"I'm sorry, but only one manager is allowed on the bench," one of the organizers stopped you, stepping in your way just as you were about to follow Ukai and the rest of the team.

"What?" you asked, frowning in disbelief as you came to a halt. You turned your head toward Yachi, who had also stayed by your side, clearly just as confused.

"But we..." you began to say, indignation rising in your voice as you tried to take another step.

"Tournament rules," the man replied, unbothered, with the calmness of someone who had repeated the same thing far too many times that day.

You held back a sharp retort and exhaled in frustration. It was ridiculous. You had been by the team’s side throughout training—preparing water bottles, organizing schedules, taking notes. And now, at the most important moment, they were asking you to stay on the sidelines.

You felt Yachi’s hand gently rest on your shoulder. When you turned around, you found her smiling—small, a little tense, but determined.

"It’s okay! Come on, we can still cheer for the team from the stands. Let’s go!" Yachi exclaimed with forced enthusiasm, trying to lift both your spirits.

Before you could respond, she took your hand firmly and led you through the crowd that was starting to settle into the bleachers. Despite the disappointment still weighing on your chest, her warm gesture managed to draw a faint smile from you.

The buzz inside the gym grew louder with every step. Voices, cheers, and footsteps echoed across the polished floor as you searched for a good spot. Finally, you stopped at a raised corner with a perfect view of the court. From there, you could see the Karasuno team gathered by the bench, getting ready. Ukai was speaking seriously, Daichi nodded, and the others stretched in silence, tense and focused.

You were surprised to see the former coach Ukai had come to watch the match as well. He stood next to someone he seemed to know, not far from where you were. Shoyo had mentioned him before, saying he was a rather strict man, but had been key in helping him improve his blocks.

You turned when two boys, younger than you, looked at you and Yachi curiously.

"Are you from Karasuno too?"

The boy tilted his head slightly, confused.

"What are you doing up here?"

"O-only one manager is allowed on the bench," Hitoka answered nervously. You nodded to confirm her words and turned your gaze back to the court, your brows knitting slightly as the tension in the air settled in around you.

But your worries faded the moment Karasuno scored the first point. A clean, precise play that lit up the crowd’s excitement and allowed you to breathe a little easier. It looked like they were off to a solid start, and against this team, the odds of victory seemed promising. You could allow yourself to enjoy the game without so much tension.

"Nice one, Kei!" you shouted enthusiastically, raising your voice above the noise in the gym just after Tsukishima executed a flawless block against Ohgiminami’s attacker.

You bounced lightly with excitement, clapping your hands in front of your chest. Pride swelled in your chest, swept up by the energy of the moment, while Yachi laughed beside you, sharing your elation.

Down below, Tsukishima didn’t turn around, but you caught the slight tension in his shoulders, as if he had heard your voice among all the others. A small smile tugged at your lips as you let yourself get carried away by the match.

It was a clean victory. Fairly easy, if you were being honest with yourself. Harsh as it might sound, there wasn’t much to highlight from Ohgiminami’s team: their formation was standard, predictable, and their blocks lacked the aggression or precision you were used to seeing in more competitive teams. They did a decent job within their capabilities, of course, but the contrast with Karasuno’s dynamic was obvious.

-------------------

It was shocking to see the next opponent step onto the court. You had heard the guys whispering about a particularly tall player on Kakugawa’s team, but like many times before, you assumed they were exaggerating. That wasn’t the case. The moment you saw him walk past you, you realized they had been serious: that player didn’t just stand out among his teammates — he looked like a tower in a sea of rooftops.

A volleyball player might have technical limitations, but height —especially when positioned near the net— is an undeniable advantage. And this number nine had plenty of it.

“I didn’t think Kakugawa’s number nine was actually that tall…” you thought as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, barely turning your head so as not to be too obvious.

“There’s not that much of a difference,” you murmured more to yourself than to anyone else. You were 1.66 meters tall; he was around 2.01. Only — you told yourself — 35 centimeters. Technically, there were players in Karasuno with whom you also shared a considerable height gap, though maybe not such an overwhelming one.

“He’s not that tall,” you finally said, crossing your arms and pretending to be more confident than you actually felt.

Hinata, who stood beside you, looked at you with wide eyes, as if he had just heard the greatest sports blasphemy of his life.

“Not that tall!?” he repeated in disbelief. “Are you blind?”

“No,” you replied casually, a small smile on your lips. “He seems tall because we’re short. But for someone over 1.70, the difference doesn’t seem that dramatic,” you explained calmly, convinced of your point of view. “Right, Asahi-senpai?”

You turned your head slightly toward the senior, waiting for his support. However, Asahi remained silent for a moment, staring at the Kakugawa player as if he had seen a walking tower. His expression said it all: not even he, with his solid build and respectable height, seemed comfortable in the presence of the towering opponent.

“Uhm… well…” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck with clear discomfort. “To be honest, he is kind of intimidating…”

Hinata nodded vigorously, as if he had just won a crucial argument.

Even if that player was two meters tall, he was still a rookie compared to the experience and cohesion of Karasuno’s starting lineup. While he did cause some trouble during the first set—blocking effectively and using his height smartly—the team managed to regain their footing. It was at a key moment that Kageyama and Hinata executed that quick attack they had perfected in practice. That move reignited the team’s spirit, and for the final point, Hinata managed to break through the giant’s block with a precise spike, securing their victory.

After the initial excitement and the shared cheers with the team, you offered to help Kiyoko and Yachi gather the water bottles, towels, and other items from the bench. Once everything was in order, you joined the others in the exit hallway. The group was making their way down the stairs at a relaxed pace, trading jokes and still riding the high of their win.

That was when a sudden shout startled you, making you lift your eyes from the handheld console in your hands.

“Ah! I forgot my lunch!” Hinata shouted, coming to an abrupt stop.

Everyone turned with puzzled expressions, just in time to see him spin around and dash back toward the court.

The instinct to keep walking while looking up almost got you in trouble. You slightly tripped on the edge of one of the steps at the exit, losing your balance. Before you could fall—or even drop the console—a firm hand grabbed you by the strap of your bag, stopping you in your tracks.

“Be more careful,” Tsukishima murmured, still holding onto the strap with two hooked fingers.

“Thanks…” you whispered with a faint blush, quietly adjusting your bag.

The ride back was calm, almost peaceful. The gentle sway of the bus, combined with the barely audible murmur of scattered conversations, created an almost drowsy atmosphere. Some were sound asleep, their heads leaning against the windows or the seats. Others, like you, preferred to get lost in the dim glow of a handheld console as the nighttime scenery slowly passed by outside the window.

Hinata, exhausted from the match, quickly gave in to sleep. He rested his head on your shoulder without hesitation, mumbling something unintelligible before falling still. You didn’t push him away. You simply adjusted your posture a bit so he’d be more comfortable and went back to your game, alternating between the screen and watching the sky grow completely dark.

When you finally arrived back at school, everyone got off the bus slowly, dragging their bags and yawning without shame. You said goodbye to each of them with a soft smile, wishing the players a good rest and thanking Kiyoko and Yachi for all their help.

“See you tomorrow,” you said with a small wave, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you prepared to walk home.

“I’m walking with you,” Tsukishima announced, not asking for permission as he slung his backpack over one shoulder, avoiding your gaze.

You didn’t argue. You simply nodded, and the two of you walked in silence for a couple of blocks, wrapped in the quiet of the night. The sound of your synchronized footsteps was the only thing filling the air for a few minutes.

“The weather’s starting to change,” you commented, your eyes on the clear sky. “In a few days, it’ll probably start to feel colder.”

Tsukishima let out a soft hum of agreement. He wasn’t the talkative type, but he never cut you off when you spoke. In fact, you’d come to notice that he always listened, even when he pretended not to.

“I’ve been thinking… I have some math exercises due next week,” you continued, not entirely sure why you were bringing it up now. “And honestly, I don’t get any of it. I think I’m starting to tank that class.”

“It’s not that hard,” he said simply, his tone calm and even. “I could help you… if you want.”

You turned to look at him, a little surprised by the offer. Tsukishima kept his gaze straight ahead, hands still in his pockets, as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.

“Really?” you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

“I mean, if you’re going to fail, that would be a problem for the team,” he added indifferently, though the slight flush on his ears betrayed his detached tone.

“Right… for the team’s sake,” you joked softly, suppressing a laugh.

When you reached your house, you climbed the few steps up to the porch and turned naturally to say goodbye. But as you stood by the door, you noticed Tsukishima hadn’t moved. He was still there, standing on the sidewalk, as if waiting for something. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on you.

Then, with sudden resolve, you crossed the small distance between you, stood on your tiptoes, and kissed him. It was a brief, tender, and slightly awkward kiss—but full of meaning. You felt his body tense at first, surprised, before slowly relaxing.

When you pulled back, he looked down at you slightly. He didn’t smile, as expected, but there was a new brightness in his eyes.

“See you tomorrow,” you said quietly, finally opening the door.

“Bring your math notebook,” was all he said before turning and walking away down the sidewalk.

[b1xi]

𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣

Glenn Rhee x reader

Word count:2890

Warning: nothing

An update after a long time haha, I was busy with my other stories but now I'll take the time to finish this one ;)

It feels almost unreal to enjoy the comfort of a good bed in the midst of all this. The mattress, soft and warm, stands in stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded you just hours ago. It seems even less believable to have finally found a safe place—or at least one that feels like it.

Guilt creeps in as you think of Alice, asleep in the adjoining room. You feel selfish for having left her alone, but you knew you needed a few minutes to yourself—to breathe, to exist without the constant weight of responsibility.

She’ll be fine, you tell yourself silently. You surrounded her with pillows, carefully arranged so she can’t roll over and fall. The door between the two rooms doesn’t close completely—you’ll hear if someone comes in or leaves, you’ll hear her if she cries.

You sigh and turn on the mattress, one hand tucked under your cheek, as the thought creeps in uninvited:

I wonder if Glenn has already found a room.

He’s probably still wandering around out there, maybe a little—or a lot—drunk. The thought brings a faint smile to your lips. You picture him with unsteady steps, dragging his feet through the dimly lit hallways, his shoulders slightly hunched from exhaustion or the weight of whatever he’s had to drink. His usually tense features now softened by alcohol, tinged with a subtle flush across his cheekbones… It’s a strangely endearing image. Funny, even.

You can almost hear the low murmur of his voice—that tone that’s equal parts ironic and protective, the one you know so well. It’s surprising how much comfort the simple memory of someone you trust can bring.

Maybe you should go out and see where you really are, walk the halls slowly and get a better sense of this new refuge. Or maybe just look for a glass of wine for yourself—if there’s any left. The exhaustion is still there, yes, like a lingering shadow in your muscles, but sleep won’t come. And now that silence reigns, a subtle curiosity to explore begins to settle in.

You sit up slowly, letting the blankets slide down your legs. The air in the room is cool, but not uncomfortable. You walk to the door at a steady pace, allowing your steps to adjust to the solid floor beneath you. When you open it, a faint creak sounds, but there’s no movement on the other side. The hallway feels suspended in a limbo between inhabited and abandoned, as if it breathes at a different rhythm than your own.

A corridor stretches out before you, dimly lit by a lone bulb at the far end. No voices. No rush. Just that strange urge to move, to see with your own eyes that, for once, there’s no danger waiting beyond the door.

And maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll find a half-finished bottle… or even Glenn, swaying in the dark with his crooked smile and a glass in hand.

After wandering through a few hallways and opening a couple of doors that led nowhere useful, you find what looks like a small break room. The space is modest, clearly functional: a row of lockers lines one wall, worn but still standing. Across from them, a low cabinet holds a messy stack of mugs, and in the center, a rectangular table with several chairs awkwardly placed around it. One of them still has a lab coat hanging from the back—forgotten, as if its owner might walk in at any moment.

On a countertop against the wall rest an old microwave and a coffee maker that looks like it’s been used recently. The air smells of dust and stale coffee, and for a moment, the image feels strangely familiar.

It looks so much like the hospital break room.

The memory slides in as naturally as you once walked the halls of the emergency department. You were still an intern back then, caught between adrenaline and exhaustion, learning to survive on very little sleep and far too much responsibility. You slept in chairs, ate whatever you could find in vending machines, and celebrated every hot cup of coffee like a personal victory.

And then, without any real warning, things began to change.

At first, it was patients with vague symptoms: high fevers, confusion, inexplicable arrhythmias. Some spoke in delirium; others screamed with a rage they couldn’t seem to control. The usual protocols didn’t work. Nurses whispered among themselves, doctors locked themselves away in meetings that lasted longer each time. Every day brought more ambulances, every night filled more gurneys.

You remembered one night in particular. They had asked you to watch over a man in isolation—one of the first cases to show signs of extreme aggression. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t speak. He only growled, with an empty stare, as if he no longer recognized his own humanity. When they tried to sedate him, he lunged at a nurse, and it took four people to restrain him. You never saw him again, and no one ever explained what happened afterward.

The virus spread quickly, relentlessly. But at the time, you didn’t know that. No one did. You were just another intern, trying not to fall apart, unaware that the world had already begun to collapse.

The hallways emptied quickly. The hospital became a place of quiet, almost clandestine transit. Orders changed daily; protocols became useless. The doctors you once admired began to leave—some out of fear, others because they knew too much.

You never got an official explanation. Only rumors. A virus, they said. Something new, something violent. Something that shouldn’t exist.

And now, here you are. Standing in a break room almost identical to that one, in a strange building, many days—or weeks—later. With the world crumbling behind you, and only the memory of that hospital as your starting point.

You wonder how many others saw what you saw… and if any of them are still alive.

In his arms, curled against his chest, was Alice. Her small body trembled silently, cheeks damp, arms clinging tightly to Glenn’s shirt.

"I was looking for you," he said, his voice low, heavy with relief.

You stepped closer immediately, but Glenn didn’t hand Alice over right away. His eyes met yours for a second longer than usual.

"I was walking through the halls," he explained softly, his tone carefully measured so as not to startle the girl. "And I heard her crying."

The sentence was simple, but it struck you in the chest with the weight of a guilt you hadn’t realized you still carried. Your breath slowed as you instinctively reached out, yearning to cradle her even before you could think of what to say.

You extended your arms gently, and Glenn, without another word, placed Alice in them with the same tenderness he’d held her with. The child’s small body settled against yours as if she’d been waiting for that very moment. She clung tightly to your neck, her tiny face buried in your shoulder.

You stroked her back slowly, whispering words you didn’t remember thinking, only saying—with the instinctive cadence of a mother trying to soothe fear with a love far greater.

You smiled at him with gratitude—a soft, sincere smile, the kind that said more than any words could at that moment.

"Thank you, Glenn," you murmured, barely a whisper, but he nodded as if no more was needed.

Without having to say it, the two of you began walking down the hallway toward the room. Your steps were slow, in sync with his, and he kept a hand behind you in an automatic gesture of protection. Alice had fallen asleep again, lulled by the steady rhythm of your breathing as she remained curled up against your chest.

"Did you take a look around the place?" Glenn asked quietly, as though afraid to disturb the fragile calm of the night.

You nodded, without looking at him.

"A little," you said. "I was in what looked like a break room. There was a lab coat hanging there, an old coffee maker… it reminded me of work. Back at the hospital."

There was a brief pause, as if the memory had reached him too.

"Must’ve been rough," he said finally.

"Yeah… it was," you murmured, eyes fixed ahead. "Seeing patients come in without knowing what was wrong. Watching them get worse, and not being able to do anything. Watching them… change." You swallowed, adjusting Alice’s weight in your arms. "At first, we thought it was some kind of neurological disease. Or maybe a rabies outbreak. But no… it was nothing like that."

Glenn didn’t respond right away—he just let your words drift between your footsteps.

"And this place?" he asked then, turning his head slightly. "Does it feel the same?"

"Not exactly," you admitted, pausing for a moment in front of the room’s door. "But there’s something about this place that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t know if it’s the silence, or the way the walls seem to listen…" You glanced over your shoulder, back down the hallway, as if something might emerge from the darkness. "But I don’t feel completely safe here. Like something’s… off."

Glenn frowned slightly, scanning the surroundings more carefully, as if your words had triggered a subtle alarm.

"If anything happens," he said firmly, "just knock on the wall. My room’s right next to yours."

You nodded silently.

"Good night, Glenn."

He gave you one last look before walking down the hallway, his steps muffled by the worn carpet. You closed the door gently, Alice’s weight still warm in your arms. And though the unease remained, pulsing somewhere deep inside, for a moment you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.

"Shhh, come on, Alice…" you whispered gently, leaning over the bed as you tried to soothe the little girl’s furious movements.

"Please, Alice," you pleaded in a murmur, as if she could understand the exhaustion in your voice.

You held her ankle delicately while reaching for a damp cloth with your other hand. Her whimpers didn’t stop—soft but constant growls and erratic squirming threatened to knock you off balance at the edge of the bed. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, and continued wiping her with slow, careful movements. You’d done this many times, but it never got easier.

You never thought you’d end up like this: cradling a life so small as if it were your own. Caring for her with an urgency that came from the deepest part of you, like an instinct you never imagined you had. You weren’t raised for this. You didn’t prepare to be a mother, never even dreamed of it. You weren’t sure you could even call yourself one—not in the traditional sense of the word. But there you were, protecting this little girl as if her every breath dictated the rhythm of your own. As if losing her would mean losing yourself too.

You wondered, as you ran the cloth over her delicate skin one last time, when exactly you had started to see her this way. When had the need to protect her become more important than your own safety? Maybe it was that first night, when you found her in the middle of the chaos. Or maybe it was more recent—when she cried for you in the silence of an unfamiliar place, and you were the only one who could calm her.

Whenever it happened, the certainty was undeniable: you were no longer alone. Not completely. And every decision you made—every step, every risk, every shelter—now had to be made with her in mind. Her needs. Her life.

You secured the clean diaper firmly, noticing how Alice finally began to give in, exhausted from crying. With patience, you dressed her in a fresh outfit: a t-shirt that was too big, but warm. Then you wrapped her in a blanket, making sure her little arms were well covered.

You walked toward the kitchen, guided by the soft murmur of voices and the faint smell of something cooking. Some were already seated around the round table in the center of the space, sharing a moment of apparent normalcy amid so much uncertainty. T-Dog was by the stove, moving scrambled eggs with patient motions, while Glenn sat in one of the chairs, his head slightly tilted, eyes narrowed from the evident hangover of the previous night.

"Want some?" T-Dog offered, raising the spatula in a welcoming gesture as he served a generous portion onto a steaming plate.

"Later," you replied with a faint smile. "I’ll make Alice’s breakfast first."

You passed by the table and placed a hand on Glenn’s shoulder. He looked up at you, and though his face was pale and a bit weary, he gave you a grin that tried to be a smile.

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," T-Dog joked, turning just enough to approach and gently pinch one of Alice's chubby cheeks, who was resting against your hip.

The little one looked at him with a furrowed brow, scrunching her nose as if unsure whether she should be offended or amused.

"She’s got my character," you commented, letting out a soft laugh as you adjusted her better on your hip.

T-Dog burst out laughing.

"That explains a lot."

"How are you feeling?" you asked quietly, leaning in a bit so only Glenn could hear you.

"Like a truck ran me over," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. "But at least I found a decent room to spend the night... and I don’t have to apologize for falling asleep in clothes."

"A miracle," you teased affectionately, giving him a light tap on the shoulder before turning toward the makeshift pantry in a corner.

It wasn’t long before the others began to arrive, one by one, filling the empty seats around the round table. The soft murmur of voices, the clinking of plates and utensils, and the warm aroma of scrambled eggs created an unexpectedly domestic atmosphere. As if, for a moment, the world were another.

You settled into one of the free chairs and placed Alice gently on your lap. The little one, still a bit grumpy from the diaper change and the abrupt wake-up, didn’t protest too much when you brought the bottle to her lips. She drank eagerly, her eyelids half-lowered, while your hand caressed her back with a slow, comforting rhythm.

Some of the women from the group came closer, heading toward the table or the coffee pot. One of them, Carol, gave you a soft smile before leaning in to brush her fingers lightly over one of Alice's little hands.

"Good morning, beautiful," she murmured softly before continuing on her way.

Another woman gave the baby a playful grimace, but Alice barely glanced away from her bottle, too focused on her breakfast to return the gesture.

The normality in that small corner felt fragile, almost fictional, but necessary. As if everyone understood, without saying it aloud, that holding on to those everyday gestures—a caress, a joke, a shared breakfast—was the only way to keep moving forward without losing themselves completely in the chaos.

[b1xi]

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭

Timeskip! Tsukishima Kei x fem reader

Warning: fluff, A little suggestive! Just a little, not bad at all.

So, many people think that Tsukishima Kei is a reserved, almost unreachable person—and they’re not wrong. His distant attitude, dry tone, and constant skepticism make him difficult to deal with. However, few know that behind that façade lies a side he only shows to one person: his partner.

You met in their first year at Karasuno, when everything was new—the team, the training, the pressure. They shared moments, occasional laughter, and comfortable silences that, over time, became something more meaningful. But it wasn’t until their third year that Tsukishima found the courage—or maybe the need—to stop hiding how he felt about you.

It wasn’t a dramatic confession full of flowery words. Quite the opposite. It was on an ordinary afternoon, on the bleachers of the empty gym, when he sat beside you with his headphones hanging around his neck and simply said: “I like you. I have for a while. I’ve overthought it, like always, but I don’t want to stay quiet about it anymore.”

Since that moment, you’ve been together. And even though at first it was hard to believe that Tsukishima could be such an intense lover, you quickly realized he simply saves the best parts of himself for the one person who manages to break through his walls.

Not that you’re complaining—of course not. How could you? His displays of affection, though subtle, are unmatched. He doesn’t need grand gestures to make you feel loved. Sometimes, it’s enough when his hand finds yours under the table, a quiet comment whispered when no one else is listening, or a look filled with tenderness that stands in stark contrast to his usual unreadable expression.

Tsukishima’s love language shows mostly through physical touch and acts of service. It’s not always obvious to others, but you’ve learned to read every one of his gestures—each of his quiet, unique ways of saying “I love you” without ever needing to say the words.

He usually saves physical touch for when you're at home, away from prying eyes—where he can hold you close or intertwine his fingers with yours without hesitation. Still, he’s not bothered by showing affection in public when he feels it’s necessary. In fact, there are moments when he does it with a very clear purpose.

If you walk into a café together, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve told him to go ahead and grab a table—he’ll stay right by your side, following closely with a firm hand resting on your waist. It’s almost instinctual, like his body refuses to be apart from yours.

And if you’re out partying and he notices unwanted eyes on you, he won’t say anything, but his body language shifts. A protective hand on the small of your back is enough to make it clear you’re not alone. And if he’s feeling particularly annoyed—too many stares, a smile that lingers too long—that hand might slip a little lower, resting possessively on your ass. He’s not possessive, but he is direct: you’re not someone to mess with.

At home, however, Tsukishima completely lets go of that distant façade. It’s there, within the privacy of your shared space, that he allows himself to be entirely yours—no holding back, no pretending. The intimacy of home gives him the freedom to show what he rarely lets the world see: his need to be close to you.

When you’re lying in bed with your back to him, it doesn’t take long before he reaches for you. Without a word, he pulls you firmly against him, as if even the smallest bit of distance is too much to bear. You feel his chest pressed to your back—warm and solid—wrapping around you like a silent shield. His arm curls around your waist, and his head finds its place just above yours, fitting like it was always meant to be there.

You could give him plenty of space in bed so he can sleep comfortably, but he’ll always choose the narrow corner between your arms and your body. No matter how big the mattress is, his favorite place will always be right next to you—breathing in sync with your sighs, holding you as if that’s the only way to keep the world from touching you, to make sure not a single moment of your peace slips away without him there to share it.

In the mornings, with a tenderness that borders on reverence, he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, thinking you’re still asleep. But you feel it—and smile into the pillow without opening your eyes.

On days off, he loves pulling you onto the couch, wrapping you both in a blanket, your legs tangled with his, his arm holding you close like he’s afraid you might slip away. He puts on some boring documentary—insisting you’ll find it interesting—but ends up stroking your hair, giving in to the peace he only finds in your arms. Sometimes, he whispers barely audible things like, “How did I get so lucky?” or “You should stay like this with me all day.” And even though he quickly masks it with a sarcastic comment, the look in his eyes always gives him away.

If you’re cooking, chances are he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder, completely pressed against you. He’s absolutely no help, but he’ll be there—stealing bites of food and kisses like they’re part of the recipe. And if you complain, he’ll just smirk in that annoyingly charming way of his and whisper, “I’m supervising. Don’t be ungrateful.”

He wakes up before you—not because he has something to do, but because he wants to make you breakfast. He won’t say anything as he sets the coffee cup beside you or points out your favorite toast already waiting on the plate, but if you look closely, you’ll notice that faint blush on his cheeks when you thank him with a sleepy smile.

When you’re tired, even if you don’t say it out loud, he knows. He’ll take the phone from your hands, turn off the lights, and tuck you in without asking, like taking care of you is just another part of his daily routine. If you’ve had a rough day, he won’t ask uncomfortable questions or push for answers—he’ll just show up with your favorite snack, hand you the TV remote, or quietly offer you his lap without saying a single word.

He never lets you walk alone at night, even if it’s just to the corner store. He always comes with you, even if he pretends he just needed some fresh air. And if you’re sick, there’s no arguing—he’ll cancel whatever plans he had, handle everything, and stay by your side until you’re better, sometimes even sitting on the floor next to the bed just to be close to you.

And even if it sounds simple, one of the things you love most is how he always finds ways to remind you how much you matter… without saying it. He does it by tying your shoelaces when you're not paying attention, by having your scarf ready when it's cold, or by packing that sweater you always forget in his backpack.

While Tsukishima isn’t the jealous type, things shift drastically when something—or someone—truly threatens what you share. He usually has complete control over his emotions, but in those moments, his reactions can become... unexpected.

He’s not the kind of guy who gives in easily to jealousy; he prefers calm, observation, and indifference. But when someone crosses a line and puts what you have at risk, his patience has a limit. And when that limit is pushed, Tsukishima’s sharpest, most cutting side comes out.

In those moments, his comments turn sharper, more direct. It's never aimed at you—he would never do that—but anyone who, in his eyes, dares to question your relationship or get a little too close doesn’t get any mercy. He’ll flash a sarcastic smile and drop a line so cutting, you have to wonder if he meant to be that cruel—or if it just comes naturally.

And when he sees someone being a little too interested in you, his temper becomes almost tangible. He stays close, just in the background, watching like a predator waiting for the right moment. He won’t get physical, but his presence alone becomes a quiet threat. That’s when he’ll come over with that cool, distant attitude—but the way his hand finds yours, the way he pulls you to his side without a word, says it all: “She’s not interested. Get lost.”

Tsukishima never acts guilty about it toward you. Most of the time, you’re so innocent you don’t even realize someone else might have had other intentions. But when you finally do trigger him—and he knows it—get ready for the consequences. He’ll deal out whatever punishment he thinks fits the moment, no matter how unpredictable it might be.

The silent treatment, one of the most effective tactics to handle your behavior, was deployed with full intensity. For three long days, Tsukishima didn’t say a word to you, not even a glance. His silence was absolute, and the cold indifference that radiated from him was so palpable it felt like a weight crushing you. However, he couldn’t maintain his stance for long. After all, you weren’t easy enough to ignore.

You provoke him so much that, instead of letting you go, Tsukishima won't allow you to leave the room for a couple of hours. His presence becomes oppressive, a mix of suppressed anger and absolute control. Without a word, his actions speak for themselves, and you find yourself trapped, with no way out.

"Let's see if this gets rid of that bad attitude of yours," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with tension. In a single movement, his firm hands pin you against the mattress, his body pressing against yours with a force that leaves no room for resistance.

[b1xi]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ハイキュー

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!! (Fanfic!)

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 (part1,part2)

Timeskip! Tsukishima Kei x fem reader

𝘚𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

Hinata Shoyo x fem reader

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭

Timeskip! Tsukishima Kei x fem reader

Requests are open for any character you would like me to write about, don't be shy and ask for whatever you want. ;)

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count: 1534

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The training camp was an enriching experience while it lasted. Meeting players from other schools, observing their strategies, and learning from their tactics gave you a new perspective on the game. Every match on the court was a chance to discover strengths and weaknesses, but without a doubt, the best part of it all was the outdoor barbecue.

Surrounded by the sound of meat sizzling on the grill and the cheerful laughter of the players, the atmosphere was relaxed and warm. The aroma of grilled meat filled the air, and as soon as the first batch was ready, Hinata practically dragged you to the table, excitement shining in his eyes.

"Quick, before it’s all gone!" he exclaimed, already holding a skewer in his hand.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t waste any time joining the feast. You grabbed a juicy piece and brought it to your mouth, savoring the smoky flavor that melted on your tongue.

It was really good. You weren’t particularly a fan of meat, so you didn’t eat it often, but this had a completely different flavor from anything you’d ever tried before.

"Oh! Do you like it?" Hinata asked excitedly, leaning slightly toward you with eyes shining with curiosity.

You gave him a smile before taking another bite.

"It’s really good," you admitted, surprised by how much you were enjoying it.

Hinata nodded enthusiastically, as if that were the perfect answer, and quickly devoured another piece. However, as soon as he finished his bite, his eyes began scanning the area with an expectant expression.

"Let’s see what else there is," he suggested, gently tugging on your wrist to pull you along through the scattered groups.

He led you through the groups of players and tables, passing by the grill where the Nekoma players were gathered, and you caught sight of Kuroo laughing with Bokuto while holding a pair of tongs, clearly proud of his grilling skills. At another table, members of Fukurodani were sharing marinated skewers, while an unfamiliar player offered small plates with sesame sauce.

And so the rest of the afternoon went by, wrapped in a carefree atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the intensity of the previous training days. The air was filled with the scent of charcoal and the sound of laughter shared among teams who, for once, were not rivals but teenagers enjoying a well-deserved break.

You spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the grass next to Kenma, playing a game together on your consoles, with soft laughter drifting through the warm evening air. You frowned in frustration every time he beat you—which, unfortunately for you, was almost every time—while he barely looked up, focused but clearly entertained by your reactions.

“It’s not that hard,” he finally murmured, not taking his eyes off the game.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve won every match,” you replied, giving him a small nudge with your shoulder, though without any real annoyance.

Kenma simply blinked, letting out a soft “hm” in an indifferent tone, but still returned to the main menu and offered you a rematch. You accepted immediately, determined to beat him at least once before the day was over.

--------------------------------------------------

The moment had finally arrived. The Spring Tournament. For many, just another school championship; for you all, the beginning of something greater. It was your first, and at the same time, the last for the third-year teammates who carried Karasuno on their shoulders with determination and pride. Excitement hung in the air like electricity, charging every conversation, every step, every glance.

You paused for a moment in the midst of the gym’s hustle and bustle, watching as the teams prepared, as the stands began to fill with voices and color. Around you, the team was warming up—the sound of volleyballs hitting the floor and the shouts of encouragement creating a vibrant symphony that sent chills down your spine.

You felt a knot in your stomach—a delicious, overwhelming mix of euphoria, nerves, and an unexpected sense of confidence.

You leaned calmly against one of the walls, arms crossed in a relaxed gesture as you waited alongside the others. Tsukishima sat on the floor next to you, elbows resting on his knees, gaze lowered, as if nothing around him was truly worth his attention.

A few steps away, Yachi spoke quietly with Hinata, while the rest of the team also waited in silence, each dealing with the tension in their own way. You were all gathered in an elevated corner, slightly set apart—a small balcony that offered a direct view of the court where you would soon play.

What caught your attention, however, wasn’t the movement on the court—it was the stares. Some people, maybe from other teams or just spectators, were looking your way. It wasn’t unusual; Karasuno’s name had started to echo loudly again after the last match against Seijoh.

You slowly slid down the wall until you were kneeling on the floor, arms resting on your legs and your back slightly hunched. Even though your body was trying to find a comfortable position, your focus remained fixed on those stares that, though distant, stirred a familiar discomfort within you.

You clearly remembered how they used to look at you back then, like you were some sort of strange specimen. Being a foreigner always raised questions—some genuine, others just odd—that ranged from superficial to outright uncomfortable. “Is your hair real?” “How do you say this word in your language?” “Do you eat the same food we do?” It didn’t entirely bother you—most of them didn’t mean any harm—but little by little, you began to notice how, between the questions and the stares, you were also being left out.

You didn’t naturally belong to any group—not entirely an outsider, but never fully within. You’d grown used to existing on the margins, observing, learning when to step in and when to stay silent. You pressed your hands against your legs, shaking off the discomfort like dust from your clothes. This was different, you reminded yourself. You had a place here—and you had earned it.

Your knee brushed against Tsukishima’s, just a light touch, but enough for both of you to notice. He didn’t say anything, didn’t pull his leg away or shift uncomfortably. He only glanced slightly in your direction, as if checking to see whether it had been intentional.

Without thinking too much about it, you slowly lowered your hand until it found his, resting on his thigh. You hesitated for a moment, then laced your fingers with his, feeling how his palm—warm and large—adjusted to the shape of yours.

"Are you nervous?" you asked softly, turning slightly to look at him, trying to catch his eyes behind the glare of his glasses.

"No," he answered quickly, looking away just as your gaze met his.

You pressed your lips together in a small, disbelieving smile.

"That’s not true."

Tsukishima tilted his head slightly, still not fully looking back at you.

"And how would you know?"

"Because you’ve been playing with my fingers ever since we laced them together," you murmured, glancing down at your still-intertwined hands. His long fingers were toying with yours in an almost absentminded tenderness—tracing lines on your palm, brushing over your knuckles, weaving in and out only to gently lace them again.

However, when he finally stopped, it was abrupt—like the connection you'd shared had to be broken right then and there. His fingers slipped from yours without a word, as if it had been nothing more than a fleeting moment.

"What’s wrong?" you asked again, a slight frown forming as you looked at him, and without thinking, you reached for his hand once more. Your palm slid toward his.

But Tsukishima pulled his away again, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead with exaggerated seriousness, as if he were far too focused on something else to give you any attention. The gesture was deliberate, almost theatrical, and though it was accompanied by a brief sigh, his mouth curved ever so slightly—barely holding back a smile.

"Don't start," he murmured, not looking at you.

"Start what?" you laughed, stretching your fingers a bit further, brushing his insistently, almost like a silent game.

He dodged your hand again, with such an unnecessarily dramatic movement that now you were sure: he wasn’t really upset. He was playing with you. He wanted to act difficult, as usual.

"Come on, Kei," you whispered with a smile. "Don’t be childish."

"You started it," he finally replied, and although his voice remained neutral, his expression softened just a little. His fingers moved slightly, as if hesitating whether to give in to the contact or not.

Before you could try again, Daichi’s firm voice interrupted the small bubble between you:

"Karasuno, it’s time. They’re calling us to the court!"

The tension shifted immediately. Everyone around them straightened up, the murmurs ceased, and an air of seriousness and focus replaced the intimacy of the moment. Tsukishima stood up calmly, brushing off his pants without looking at you, but this time, his hand briefly slid over yours before pulling away.

[b1xi]

i heard there might be sbr anime announcement soon… go my glorious king

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count:3206

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Of the few times Tsukishima walked you home, your least favorite part was always arriving. You wished you could spend more time with him—it was entertaining to have his company, to have him by your side, listening to you talk about anything. Having to say goodbye to him was always disappointing.

Both of you remained there, in the dimness of the night, with the cool breeze lightly tousling your hair and Tsukishima's. The weight of farewell hung between you, yet neither seemed willing to take the first step to leave.

"It was fun," you broke the silence, stuffing your hands into the padded pockets of your jacket. "I really enjoyed it."

Tsukishima lifted his gaze from the ground, a hint of surprise flickering across his expression before he cleared his throat.

"Oh, yeah?" he replied, his tone neutral, though the way his fingers drummed against his own arm gave him away. "Well… I'm glad you liked it, I guess."

A small smile tugged at your lips, but before you could respond, he moved. It was a subtle gesture, just a single step forward—enough to invade your personal space without making it seem intentional. His gaze flickered briefly to your lips, and for the first time that night, his uncertainty was laid bare: in the slight furrow of his brow, in the way his hand clenched into a fist at his side.

He was going to let you go. You could see it in the way his muscles tensed, in how he seemed to struggle between keeping his reserved demeanor or giving in to that impulse gnawing at him from within.

But at the last second, before you could pull away, his hand lifted, brushing gently against your jaw before grasping it firmly.

Leaning in just enough to meet your lips with his own.

Tsukishima didn’t think too much about what he was doing. If he did—if he analyzed every movement the way he did with everything else in his life—he knew he would stop himself, suppressing the impulse before it even took shape. But now, with the warmth of your body still so close, with the echo of your words lingering in his mind, he simply let it happen.

The first contact was clumsy. He moved with more force than he intended, his lips colliding against yours at a slightly awkward angle. It wasn’t like in the books he had read, nor like the movies he had glimpsed out of the corner of his eye while his brother laughed at him for watching. It was messy—his heart pounding violently against his chest, anxiety creeping up as he tried to adjust, tilting his head a little more, making sure he wasn’t doing it completely wrong.

For a moment, he thought you might have wanted to pull away, that his lack of experience made him look utterly ridiculous. But then he felt your hand clutching the fabric of his coat, the way your breath trembled just slightly before you kissed him back.

That was enough to make him forget everything else.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers still tense around your wrist as if afraid the moment might vanish at any second. He had no idea how much time had passed—whether it had been only a few seconds or an eternity. All he knew was that when he finally pulled away, his skin was burning, his breathing was unsteady, and the only thing on his mind was how to keep you from noticing how nervous he was.

And his arrogant ass wasn’t satisfied with the shitty excuse for a kiss he had just given you—if it could even be called that.

Tsukishima had barely taken a few steps when his jaw tightened. An uncomfortable weight settled in his chest, an irritating dissatisfaction that made him stop in his tracks. No. He wasn’t going to let his first kiss with you be a clumsy, awkward mess.

He spun sharply on his heels, and before you could react, he was already back in front of you. His gaze, usually sharp and condescending, was now filled with an unusual intensity—something that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Can I?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, barely a murmur between the two of you.

Your heart pounded against your chest, but still, you nodded without hesitation.

This time, there was no rush, no awkwardness. Tsukishima leaned in with precision, his hands finding the contours of your face as his lips melded with yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—measured, yet utterly absorbing. He made sure to take his time, to memorize the warmth of your mouth against his, to savor the way you fit together so perfectly.

Your lips were softer than he had imagined. Every passing second with them brushing against his felt like a stolen breath from time itself. He felt an unfamiliar sense of calm, as if the world had vanished around him and the only thing left beyond space and time was your presence—your warmth wrapping around him with a tenderness foreign to him, yet incredibly comforting.

It was a new sensation, something completely unexpected, yet at the same time, it felt so natural—like it had always been there. He didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want this moment to unravel so quickly, but when air became essential, the need to breathe overpowered his desires. He separated from you slowly, not out of reluctance, but simply out of respect for what you both needed.

He held your face, his fingers still warm against your skin. His gaze locked onto yours, filled with a rare tranquility that now seemed to envelop him completely. His breathing was heavier than usual, and his eyes reflected a mix of wonder and relief, as if he had finally let go of something he had been holding onto for far too long.

The words escaped his lips with the hesitance of someone unsure if they should be spoken—but needing to say them anyway.

“It’s... it’s strange, but… I like it.” The sigh that followed was soft, almost like a confession, like a newfound realization.

He couldn’t help but smile—a smile he made no effort to hide, one that laid bare exactly what he felt, something pure and sincere. The hands that held you slowly lowered, but never fully let go. He remained there, looking at you, waiting—waiting for you to feel it too, to recognize what had just happened, what was happening between you both.

"See you tomorrow, Kei," you said, pausing between each word, as if every syllable was a promise, a whisper lingering in the air. Your hand moved gently toward his face, bringing you close enough to place a tender kiss on his left cheek. It was such a simple, natural gesture, yet it carried a tenderness that surprised you both.

Kei, who had always been so distant and reserved, froze for a moment. If anyone had seen him right then—so quiet, so caught up in the delicate gesture he had just received—they would have struggled to recognize the Tsukishima they knew. His expression, usually laced with sarcasm and a hint of arrogance, was now a mix of surprise and something that bordered on gratitude. His face, which typically reflected the unwavering confidence of someone always in control, now revealed a rare vulnerability—one he almost never allowed anyone to see.

His gaze remained fixed on you for a long second, as if he wanted to say something, but words simply didn’t seem enough. Instead, a faint blush colored his cheeks—a subtle sign of what, despite his usually cold demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel.

"See you tomorrow," he repeated, his voice slightly softer than usual, as if the mere thought of your closeness had unsettled him in a way he had yet to fully understand.

You walked away slowly, noticing how his eyes remained on you, a different kind of light in his gaze. It was as if, in that brief moment, the armor he always showed the world had faded, revealing something far more vulnerable and real.

Karasuno needed to improve, and that became quite clear during the practice matches against other teams. You watched the game unfold with your arms crossed, letting out a sigh as you shook your head.

"They're on a losing streak," you commented without much enthusiasm, your gaze fixed on the court where the team struggled to catch up to their opponents.

Kiyoko, standing beside you, nodded slightly, sharing your sentiment.

"It's only the first game; they'll get better for the next one," Yachi chimed in, her voice filled with optimism.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically before glancing at the scoreboard. The point difference was far from encouraging.

"You think so?" you asked, unable to keep a hint of doubt from slipping into your voice.

Before anyone could respond, Ukai's firm voice cut through the conversation.

"Hey, come here for a moment." He raised his hand to call you over while keeping his eyes on the players.

You stood up and walked over, crossing your arms as you waited for his instructions.

"I want you to supervise the boys' punishment," he said bluntly, gesturing toward the group of players already heading toward the gym exit—some with resigned expressions, others visibly exhausted.

"Punishment?" you asked curiously.

"Running up and down the hill." Ukai sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright," you responded calmly, carefully stepping around the pairs of shoes scattered near the entrance. You took off your own shoes and replaced them with more suitable footwear for going outside, making sure to adjust them properly before heading out.

You settled on the steps outside, seeking refuge in the little shade cast by the building. With an automatic motion, you pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them, watching the players as they began to climb.

You observed the players running, their bodies tense with effort, their heavy breaths mixing with the murmur of the wind. However, your gaze soon drifted toward one particular figure—Kei.

He wasn’t the fastest or the most enthusiastic, but he kept a steady pace, his expression of annoyance unchanged, as if he were above the punishment being imposed. Still, every now and then, his jaw tightened, and his chest rose and fell with greater effort, betraying his fatigue.

You felt a slight tingling on your lips as you remembered him, a pang of nervousness and excitement twisting in your chest.

It was strange to think that the same person who was now running uphill with apparent indifference had been the one to look at you with such intensity before kissing you. The same person who, for a few seconds, had set aside his pride and arrogance to show you something genuine.

And you had to admit it: the memory came back to you again and again, like a song stuck in your head, like a persistent echo of the moment his lips first brushed against yours.

No matter how many times you tried to push the image away, the sensation returned with almost overwhelming clarity. The warmth of his touch, the hesitant pressure at first, and then the firmness with which he claimed the kiss. The way his fingers had tangled in your face, as if he feared you'd pull away, as if he wanted to memorize every detail of how perfectly you fit together.

You moistened your lips without realizing it, as if trying to trace the remnants of his touch. A subtle longing settled in your chest. You wanted to feel it again. To see if the sensation was as intoxicating as you remembered, if the electricity on your skin was still there, if the warmth of his breath against yours would steal your breath away once more.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the memory envelop you completely. But when you opened them again, your gaze met Tsukishima’s, now standing in front of you, his chest rising and falling from the effort of running under the sun for a few minutes.

Tsukishima ran a hand across his forehead, irritably pushing away the sweat that dripped into his eyes. The heat was suffocating, and the run exhausting, but something else caught his attention when he lifted his gaze.

There you were, sitting on the steps, your arms wrapped around your knees, with a... peculiar expression on your face.

He furrowed his brow.

That smile, barely noticeable but clear to someone who knew how to read you well, had something stupid about it. Not in a derogatory sense, but in that distracted, dreamy way someone smiles when their mind is lost in something too pleasant.

It was a stupid smile.

And yet... he thought it was cute.

His brow immediately furrowed at that involuntary thought. There was nothing cute about a meaningless smile like that, or the distracted expression you wore on your face.

Your mind went blank for a moment, caught between the memory still fluttering in your head and Tsukishima’s sudden presence before you. You should say something, anything, instead of just staring at him like he was some strange phenomenon.

Instead, your hands moved instinctively, searching for the water bottle you had brought with you but hadn’t touched since you sat down. You unscrewed the cap with somewhat clumsy fingers, feeling the coolness of the plastic contrasting with the faint warmth in your palms.

“Do you want some?” you finally asked, offering it to him without thinking too much.

You kept the bottle extended for a few seconds, waiting for him to take it. But when he didn’t react immediately, you started to retract your hand. Just then, Tsukishima took it, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“Thanks,” he murmured softly, not looking directly at you, before turning on his heel and walking away a few steps.

You shook your head to push aside unnecessary thoughts and stood up with determination, collecting the other water bottles to hand them out to the players.

The sun beat down relentlessly, and the Karasuno boys could feel it in every fiber of their bodies. As you approached, several of them greeted you with grateful expressions, some even offering exhausted smiles.

“Thanks, you’re an angel,” Nishinoya groaned as he grabbed his bottle, dramatically leaning back before taking a long drink.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you replied with a light laugh, moving on to hand the next bottle.

Hinata grabbed his bottle with such urgency that, for a moment, you feared he might choke.

“Hey, slow down,” you warned with an arched eyebrow, watching him tilt the bottle uncontrollably.

“Huh?” he mumbled distractedly, only to start coughing immediately after.

You rolled your eyes with a mix of resignation and amusement before handing the next bottle to Kageyama. He took it with his usual serious expression, unscrewing the cap with precise movements before taking a couple of long swigs.

“You did well today,” you commented casually, glancing at him from the corner of your eye as he lowered the bottle.

“Ah... thanks,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to hide the slight blush that began to appear on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but find his reaction strangely endearing. Despite his competitive attitude and strong temperament, in moments like these, Kageyama showed that he was still not entirely accustomed to receiving praise.

The day had been exhausting for the entire team. Fatigue was reflected in every dragged step, in the way the players wiped their faces, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The losing streak didn’t seem to ease, and each defeat weighed heavier on their shoulders, a constant reminder that if they didn’t improve soon, the dream of advancing in the spring tournament would fade before it even began.

Now, with night falling over the court, the atmosphere had changed. The hustle of practice had dissipated, leaving only the occasional murmur of scattered conversations and the sound of sneakers on the floor as players left the gym. The artificial lights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the cool night air provided a welcome relief after the sweltering heat of the day.

From your position, you watched the team gather their things with slower movements than usual. Some rubbed their sore muscles, others stretched in an attempt to relieve the accumulated tension. Despite the exhaustion, there was a palpable determination in the air, a silent agreement that giving up wasn’t an option.

You sighed, crossing your arms as the coolness of the night caressed your skin. All you wanted in that moment was a cold shower to dispel the fatigue that had accumulated in every muscle of your body, and then to sink into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Sleeping away from home always felt strange. The familiarity of your own bed, the distant echo of familiar sounds, even the way the light entered through your window at dawn—those little details that made your room a sanctuary—were missing here. Still, you hoped you could find some comfort tonight, even if it was just in the feeling of a firm mattress and freshly washed sheets.

You waved goodbye with a gesture of your hand and a soft "good night" to your teammates, who were still in the gym, clinging to every extra minute of practice. You couldn’t help but admire their determination, even though all you could think about was a shower and a bed.

As you walked down the hallways of the facility, the echo of sneakers against the wooden floor and the rhythmic sound of balls bouncing on the floor reached your ears from different gyms. Some teams were still training, pushing themselves to the limit even at these late hours of the night.

It was then that a familiar voice filtered through one of the slightly open doors, dragging the words with its characteristic laid-back tone.

"Come on, come on, Bokuto, is that all you've got?"

You stopped for a moment, easily recognizing Kuroo's voice. You didn’t need to see him to imagine his expression: that sly smile that always seemed to be planning something. From where you were, you could hear the brief, somewhat irritated responses from the Fukurōdani's ace and captain, followed by the unmistakable sound of a ball being struck forcefully.

Without realizing it, your steps slowed until you stopped completely next to the gym entrance. Curiosity got the better of you, and with caution, you peeked just enough to see inside without being noticed.

The sound of the balls echoed loudly, blending with the voices of the players who were still training intensely. Akashi watched with his characteristic analytical air, probably evaluating every movement with precision. Bokuto, with his boundless energy, was preparing for a spike while Kuroo gave him instructions with his usual confident tone. But it was the tall, slender figure of Tsukishima that surprised you to see there.

The blonde was practicing blocks, his expression more focused than usual. Throughout the day, you had noticed that his mood wasn’t the best, but now, seeing him there, pushing himself with the same dedication as the others, you felt a small wave of relief.

Hey guys, good night post

[b1xi]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

Timeskip! Tsukishima Kei x fem reader

Warning: fluff, pregnancy, Vomiting, childbirth

Parte 1

¡Fiebre de embarazo! Tsukishima Kei, quien, cuando le dices que por fin estás embarazada, se queda callado un momento; sus ojos dorados brillan con una mezcla de sorpresa y emoción contenida.

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei, who has the biggest and brightest smile ever seen on him, one that completely erases his usual serious expression, revealing pure and uncontrollable happiness.

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei, who hugs you so tightly it almost takes your breath away, his hands trembling slightly as he holds you against his chest, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

Baby fever! Tsukishima Kei, who kisses every inch of your face frantically, not caring how clumsy or desperate it seems, because there’s no way to contain what he feels in this moment.

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei, who caresses your belly with an unusual tenderness, his fingers gently tracing it as if he can already feel the little life growing inside you.

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei, who whispers against your skin with a voice full of adoration, "You're amazing, baby... you gave us the best of us."

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei, who can't stop looking at you with a special gleam in his eyes, as if you're the most precious thing he's ever held, because now you’re not just the person he loves, but the mother of his child.

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei, who spends the night with one hand on your belly while you sleep, his thoughts revolving around the future, about what it will be like to have a baby with you, all the things he’ll teach them, how he’ll protect his family with everything he has.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who the next morning you find in the kitchen, his cellphone held between his shoulder and ear while he stirs the eggs in the pan with one hand.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, with an uncommon excitement, bluntly says, "Hey, mom, guess what." And before she can answer, he drops the news with a proud smile on his face.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, after hanging up, is already dialing another number because your mom needs to know, his brother has to hear it from his mouth, and of course, Yamaguchi can’t be left out of the list.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who pauses to listen to the excited reaction on the other side of the line, looking at you with a playful gleam in his eyes while you stand half asleep in the doorway.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who can barely focus on finishing breakfast because his mind is too busy imagining what his life will be like now, what it will be like to see you with a round belly, what it will be like to hold his baby in his arms for the first time.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when he finally hangs up and turns to you, looks at you with so much adoration that it almost makes you blush, leaning in for a soft kiss before murmuring against your lips, “I love you.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who can’t help but feel guilty seeing you struggle with pregnancy nausea, his expression hardening with helplessness when he finds you on your knees in the bathroom, holding your hair back as your body trembles from the effort.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, despite not being great at taking care of others, does everything he can to ease your discomfort—airing out the room, fetching cold towels, and rubbing slow circles on your back.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you’re finally able to move away from the toilet, helps you up with the utmost care, holding you against him as if you were made of glass, murmuring softly, “I’m sorry, love… I wish I could do more.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who rushes to the kitchen in search of anything that might calm your stomach—jelly, crackers, yogurt, even a tea he probably made wrong but still offers with the best of intentions.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who sits beside you on the bed while you try to eat something, watching you with silent concern, his brow furrowed because he hates seeing you like this and not being able to do anything more than just be there.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when he notices you turning pale again, picks you up without hesitation and carries you back to the bathroom, holding you without a single complaint, wiping your face with a damp towel, and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you finally manage to rest, stays awake a little longer, caressing your belly with a gentleness that contrasts with his large hands, whispering barely above a breath, “This better be worth it, kid.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who now wants you to go everywhere with him, no matter how insignificant the outing may be.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when he sees you comfortable on the couch, frowns as he puts on his jacket and says, “Aren’t you coming with me?” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who ignores your response when you remind him that “you’re just going to the store” and crosses his arms, waiting for you to get up because, to him, any excuse is good enough to keep you close.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you finally agree to go, walks at a slower pace than usual, making sure you don’t get too tired—though his excuse is that “the weather is nice today.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who always has a hand on the small of your back or holding your wrist, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who makes you sit down anywhere available whenever he thinks you look tired, even if it’s only been ten minutes since you left.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you go shopping, somehow ends up in the baby aisle without even realizing it, looking at everything with an expression that leaves no room for discussion.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you catch him holding a tiny yellow onesie with a dinosaur print, clears his throat and silently places it in the cart without saying a word.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who doesn’t hesitate to fulfill every one of your pregnancy cravings, no matter the time or how ridiculous it might seem to him.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you say you’re dying for ice cream, doesn’t just get one but several different flavors because “I don’t want to have to go out again if you change your mind.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, if you mention missing his homemade meals, drops whatever he’s doing without a complaint and heads to the kitchen, preparing everything with an almost professional level of focus.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you ask for pizza at midnight, sighs and runs a hand through his hair, but he’s already putting on his shirt and looking for his keys. “Babe, it’s almost midnight…” he says, but he still ends up going.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, although he’s always been sarcastic and seemingly indifferent, now seems completely willing to spoil you, no matter how much he denies it.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, if for some reason he can’t get what you want right away, gets more frustrated than he’d ever admit, because he hates seeing you disappointed, even if it’s over a simple craving.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when he finally gets you what you wanted, places it in front of you with a triumphant expression, watching you with satisfaction as you enjoy every bite.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, after satisfying each craving, looks at you with quiet affection, running a hand through your hair as he softly murmurs, “This baby already has me completely at their mercy, huh?”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who is totally moved by seeing your belly grow, even though he tries to act like it’s not a big deal at first.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, whose first action every morning is to slide a hand over your still-sleepy belly, fascinated by how much it has changed since the last time he touched it.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when he first notices your clothes fitting tighter than usual, falls silent, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of awe and tenderness that he tries to hide.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, if he catches you looking at your reflection with insecurity, approaches without a word, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his large hand resting over you.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who completely freezes the first time he feels a tiny kick, his eyes widening as he looks from your belly to you, searching for confirmation that it really happened.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, after that moment, can’t stop touching you, always using the excuse, “I just want to see if they move again,” when in reality, he’s completely obsessed with feeling every little movement.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who doesn’t hesitate to request paternity leave even though there are still two months until the due date, because nothing is more important than being with you.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, without a second thought, reorganizes his schedule, postpones meetings, delegates responsibilities, and temporarily steps away from team activities because his priority now is you and the baby.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you try to insist that you’ll be fine on your own, gives you a look that makes it clear you've already lost that argument. “It’s not negotiable,” he says firmly, without taking his eyes off you.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who becomes a shadow at your side, making sure you don’t make any unnecessary effort, appearing out of nowhere whenever you try to lift something heavy or stand up faster than he deems safe.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who accompanies you to every doctor’s appointment without fail, asking the doctor detailed questions as if he were the one pregnant, ensuring that everything is going perfectly.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who now knows all the prenatal class schedules and attends them without a single complaint, watching every demonstration with absolute concentration because he needs to know exactly what to do when the time comes.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, although he tries to maintain his usual carefree attitude, sometimes gets caught looking at you with a soft, almost reverent expression, as if he can’t quite believe he’s really about to become a father.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, despite the fact that his past self would have never imagined being in this situation, now can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who you thought would be perfectly calm when the time for labor came—after all, he had studied the subject thoroughly, read books, watched videos, and taken notes at every medical appointment. But when the moment arrived, reality was completely different.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, the moment you felt your first strong contraction, froze for a second, as if his brain needed time to process that the moment had finally arrived.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, despite having planned everything, still checks the hospital bag three times before leaving, making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything while trying to hide the slight tremor in his hands.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, even though he wants to stay calm for you, his eyes betray his nervousness as he helps you into the car, his jaw clenched while he drives with extreme focus—like he’s in a championship final.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who can barely stay seated in the delivery room because he needs to move, needs to do something, but the only thing he can do is hold your hand and try to reassure you, even though he’s the one who needs it the most.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, when the contractions intensify and you’re in pain, feels completely helpless—his hand gripping yours tighter than he realized, whispering, “You’re doing great,” even though his own voice sounds unsteady.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, the moment he hears his baby’s first cry, feels his breath hitch, his eyes widening in surprise, and for the first time in his life, he feels like his entire world changes in an instant.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, when they place the baby in his arms for the first time, falls completely silent, staring down in pure awe, looking like an entirely different person.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, with his child in his arms, finally looks at you, and despite himself, his eyes fill with tears as he leans down to kiss your forehead gently. “We did it,” he whispers in a broken voice, as if he still can’t quite believe it.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who can’t stop looking at his baby, absolute adoration shining in his eyes, as if he’s witnessing the greatest miracle of his life.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who arrives home with excitement, carrying his baby straight to the room he prepared with so much care, every detail personally chosen by him to ensure it was perfect for his most precious treasure.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, with a softness you never imagined from him, holds the baby while showing them their crib, the plush toys precisely lined up on the shelves, and the carefully placed mobiles. “Dad even set up your playpen so you can have fun. Do you like it?” he murmurs, though the newborn only responds with a tiny yawn.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, even though he was never very expressive, now constantly talks to his baby in a soft tone, saying things like, “This is where you’ll sleep… or at least try to,” or “I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re always happy, okay?”

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, despite thinking he could just put the baby in the crib and go on with his day, ends up standing beside it, watching them sleep, unable to step away too far.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, when he finally lays the baby down, keeps his hands resting on the crib’s railing, making sure everything is perfect before stepping back—just a little—without taking his eyes off them.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, although he initially mocked the idea of buying a baby monitor with a camera, now checks it every five minutes on his phone, frowning if the baby moves more than usual.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, when he finally lies down beside you, can’t help but reach out to gently touch your hand and whisper, “Thank you… for this, for everything.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima who never forgets about his wife, making sure you take a moment for yourself. Every time he tries to make you rest, he gently reminds you that after carrying the baby for nine long months, you’ve more than earned your well-deserved break.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who organizes everything at home so you don’t have to lift a finger. He tells everyone—from friends to family—that all you need to do is relax, and if you need anything, just say the word.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who becomes an impromptu chef, cooking your favorite meals and bringing them to you, making sure you have everything you need, even if it means losing sleep at night.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who insists you take a nap, even when your mind is full of thoughts about the baby. He looks at you with tenderness and says, “Rest, you deserve it. The baby is fine, and so am I, so just relax.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, after a long day full of tasks, prepares a little relaxing routine for you—maybe a warm bath or some soft music—making sure you take time for yourself.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who insists that you bring the baby to every volleyball game he has, securing you the best seats near the court so you don’t miss a single moment of the action.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, upon seeing you arrive with the baby in your arms, can’t help but smile with pride, feeling like every part of his life now has a new meaning. “I want him to see all of this,” he says, looking at the little one who, though too young to understand, is already part of his world.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, while at the match, becomes even more protective, giving you quick glances to make sure you and the baby are okay. When he scores an important point, his eyes light up, but he always returns to you with a gaze full of affection.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who pretends to be indifferent and uninterested when his teammates come over to greet you and the baby, but can't help but show a slight smile as he watches them greet you and how his little son becomes the center of attention. “It’s not like it matters,” he murmurs, but his eyes shine with a glint of pride.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who becomes even more protective when a teammate dares to get too close to the baby. Though his tone is sarcastic, there’s a clear tension in his posture.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, when seeing you smile and enjoy the match with the baby, feels more motivated than ever on the court, looking up to the stands in search of your face after every point.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, while heading home after a match, can't help but mention how nice it was to have you both there, though he says it in a casual tone, knowing it will make you smile.

[b1xi]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

Timeskip! Tsukishima Kei x fem reader

Warning: fluff, nsfw (just a little), pregnancy ¡Minors do not interact!

Part 2

Babyfever! Tsukishima Kei had never considered himself a family man. It's not that he was against the idea, he just didn’t see it as a priority. His life revolved around his career, his peace of mind, and the comfort of the routine he had built with you. However, everything changed with a simple yet devastatingly impactful image: you, holding the baby of one of his acquaintances in your arms, laughing softly as the little one tried to reach for you with its tiny hands.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who had initially observed the scene with feigned indifference, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, found that there was something in the way the baby clung to you, in the warmth with which you rocked it and whispered softly, that left him completely still. His heart, always so reserved, gave an unexpected lurch.

Babyfever! Tsukishima noticed it wasn’t just the baby that looked happy. It was you. There was something in your smile, in the way your eyes shone with sweetness, that made him imagine — for the first time — what it would be like to see you like that with your own child.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, one night, while you were half asleep on the couch, let the question slip out in a casual tone, almost as if he didn’t care about the answer:

"If you had a baby… who do you think it would look more like, you or me?"

Still with your mind foggy from sleep, you blinked a couple of times, trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined those words. Tsukishima rarely spoke without thinking, especially about topics as… significant.

"Huh?" you murmured, rubbing your eyes before searching for his figure beside you.

"Forget it" he muttered with feigned indifference.

Babyfever! Tsukishima started sending you cute baby videos on any social media where you were connected, making sure to do it at times he knew you'd see them.

“What’s this?” you wrote after receiving a video of a baby laughing hysterically while playing with its pet, right in the middle of your workday.

“It was sent by accident.”

It wasn’t true. He had carefully selected it, waiting for the perfect moment to send it to you, just like the other videos he had saved for later.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who you always lose track of when you go shopping together. One moment, he's by your side in the home section, commenting with disinterest on the prices of bed sheets, and the next, he disappears without warning.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who you end up searching for everywhere, checking the sports section because you think he might have gotten distracted by something there, then you pass by the stationery section because you know he has a weakness for office supplies, but he’s not in either of those places.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you finally find him, is standing in the baby aisle, facing a shelf full of toys. He has a neutral expression, hands in his pockets, but his eyes scan every detail: the soft plush toys, the musical mobiles, the tiny rattles designed for little hands.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who acts as if nothing happened when you drag him back to the shopping cart, but later, as you check the items, you notice something new in his hands: a small plush doll that he now holds without letting go.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who, when you ask him if he plans to buy it, simply shrugs and drops it into the cart without a word.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who doesn’t take his hands off you when you get home, holding your waist firmly from behind while you try to get the keys, his body pressed against yours with a closeness that leaves no room for distractions.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who complicates even the simple task of opening the door, his breath grazing your neck as he murmurs an impatient “Are you taking this long?” even though it’s him who keeps pressing you against the door.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who holds your hips firmly, his thumbs tracing small circles on the fabric of your clothes, as if he can’t help it, as if he needs to feel you closer.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who lets out a frustrated sigh when you finally manage to open the door and gently pushes you inside, not taking his hands off you for a single second.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who you had never seen reach this level of desperation, cornering you against one of the walls as soon as you cross the door, not caring that the shopping bags fall to the floor with a dull thud.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who kisses you with such demand that you can barely keep up, his hungry lips capturing yours, his tongue claiming every sigh that escapes your mouth.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who holds your face with a firm hand, his fingers sliding to the base of your neck, forcing you to receive each kiss with the same intensity with which he gives them.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who leaves you breathless, pressing his body against yours, his hands exploring your waist with a need he had never shown so openly before.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who barely separates by a few millimeters, his breath heavy and his gaze dark, whispers against your lips with a voice deeper than usual, "Please, babe, please."

"Please, what?" you gathered all the strength you had left to form a sentence, your mind occupied with Tsukishima, who slid his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses marked by urgency, his hands gripping your hips as if they were the only thing keeping him in the present.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who grits his teeth, frustration vibrating in his chest, his fingers gripping your skin tighter as if he feared you might reject him.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who breathes deeply, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes burning with a need he had never shown so rawly before.

“Let me do it, babe... let me get you pregnant.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who had never begged for anything, but now he did it shamelessly, without reservations, because the idea of seeing you swollen with his child was the only thing he could think about lately.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who kisses you with even more desperation, as if trying to convince you with every brush of his lips, with every ragged breath against your skin.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who murmurs against your ear, his voice deep and full of promises, “You’d be so beautiful... so perfect with my baby inside you.”

Babyfever! Tsukishima effortlessly lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with determined steps, because there was no turning back now, because you'd already seen the way he looked at you, as if you were everything he'd been waiting for.

Babyfever! Tsukishima, who doesn't let go all night, making sure to spill his seed inside you as many times as necessary until he's convinced the job is done.

He has you panting and moaning nonstop beneath him, your cheeks wet from your eyes watering with each orgasm.

Babyfever! Tsukishima who, even after the desire has settled, still clings to you, holding you tightly to make sure you feel safe, calm, with no intention of letting you go.

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count: 3654

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

"Hinata" you called, peeking through the gym doors. Inside, the redhead was with Kageyama and Yachi, holding a ball in his hands with a determined expression on his face—. Are we leaving together?

Hinata turned to you, but as soon as he understood your question, he quickly shook his head.

"No, sorry. I'm going to stay a little longer" he replied, raising the ball in his hands.

You tried not to show your disappointment, nodding as you adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

"Oh… that's fine. See you tomorrow, then."

Hinata gave you a smile before turning his attention back to Kageyama. With a light sigh, you turned on your heels and left the gym, crossing the courtyard toward the exit. You hadn't gotten far when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Hey, wait!"

"Are you leaving alone?" Tanaka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Seems like it" you replied with a sigh.

"That's unacceptable!" Nishinoya exclaimed, crossing his arms with feigned indignation. "A lady like you shouldn't walk these dangerous streets alone."

"What dangerous streets?" you laughed. "I live ten minutes from here."

"Even so" Tanaka clicked his tongue, "Nishinoya and I have decided that we will escort you home."

" "Decided"? " you teased. "I don't remember being part of that decision."

"Too late! It's already done" Nishinoya declared, patting you on the back. "Come on, before it gets any later."

"So now I have two personal bodyguards?" You rolled your eyes, but a playful smile settled on your face as the three of you walked toward the exit.

"Exactly, little one" Tanaka said, puffing out his chest. "Two elite bodyguards."

"The best of the best!" Nishinoya added proudly. "If anyone tries anything, we'll show them our legendary"

"Tanaka!" Yachi's voice interrupted his speech, calling him from a few meters behind.

Tanaka immediately turned around, surprised.

"Yachi-san" he responded enthusiastically before turning back to you. "You two go ahead, I'll see what she needs."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets home safe and sound" Nishinoya assured, thumping his chest confidently.

"I'm the one who'll have to take care of him" you murmured, though the smile on your face gave away that you were only joking.

--------------------------------------------------

You hated summer. It was, without a doubt, your least favorite time of the year.

You despised the sticky feeling of sweat accumulating on your skin, your hair clinging to the back of your neck whenever the heat became unbearable, and the fabric of your uniform uncomfortably sticking to your back. Walking under the sun was pure torture—the dense, stifling air made you feel as if you were wrapped in a damp blanket you couldn't escape from.

The worst part of all was the gym. In theory, there was air conditioning, but in practice, the upperclassmen always claimed it first, leaving the first-years stuck outside, where the sun beat down mercilessly and the air barely circulated. The ground burned beneath your feet, sweat trickled down your temples, and the insects seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, buzzing around and landing on your skin the moment you let your guard down. It was absolute torment.

If there was anything that could slightly redeem the season, it was the idea of trips to the beach. The cool water, the ocean breeze, the momentary relief of diving into the sea and forgetting the scorching heat… But of course, school schedules made it nearly impossible. Between classes, training, and homework, any chance to escape to the coast disappeared before you could even make plans.

And as if the universe were conspiring against you, it decided to combine two of the things you hated most into a single event: the suffocating summer heat and physical education class.

The air was thick and heavy as you walked with the other girls toward the outdoor court, where the endurance test was about to begin. You had barely stepped out of the building when the sun struck your skin with irritating intensity, and you immediately knew this was going to be torture. The teacher stood in the center of the court with a clipboard in hand, waiting for everyone to line up so the test could begin.

You sighed, adjusting your ponytail at the base of your neck in a futile attempt to relieve the sticky feeling of your hair against your skin. The heat was already pressing down, and you hadn’t even started running yet.

As you took your position, you heard laughter and male voices coming from the adjacent court. At first, you didn’t pay much attention—probably just another group suffering under the same ordeal.

"Why can’t they do this in winter?" you muttered in annoyance, stretching your arms above your head.

"If they did, you’d just find another reason to complain," Nayuta replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny her words. Of course, you’d find something else to complain about, but summer was still your number one enemy.

The girls began taking their positions at the starting line while the teacher checked her stopwatch. You weren’t exactly excited, but at least Nayuta was in this with you. Beside you, she turned her head slightly, noticing something on the other side of the court.

"Oh, great… we have an audience."

"What?" You followed her gaze and felt a slight chill upon noticing some boys from Class 1-4 watching. Most of them didn’t seem too interested, just killing time while waiting for their turn at their own test.

"Just ignore them," you said, more to convince yourself than her. Nayuta raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

"That would be easier if you weren’t about to embarrass yourself in less than a minute."

You gave her a light elbow to the ribs just as the teacher raised her voice.

"On your marks!"

You took a deep breath. You just had to get this over with. As quickly as possible.

"Set!"

Nayuta shot you a confident look.

"Go!"

You took off running with the rest of the girls, the sun beating down directly on your face. And within seconds, reality hit even harder than the heat—this was going to be a disaster.

"I had no idea Y/N’s class was out here."

Yamaguchi was the first to notice, watching the girls who had lined up on the track with mild curiosity. Tsukishima, who hadn’t been paying much attention until then, glanced up out of reflex. Sure enough, among the group of girls, there she was—running at a… questionable pace.

"God…" Tsukishima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, watching the scene with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Yamaguchi let out a nervous laugh.

"She’s not exactly… fast."

That was an understatement. While some girls had already completed the first lap with relative ease, Y/N looked like she was fighting an internal battle with every step. Her expression of suffering was so obvious that even Nayuta, running beside her, said something to encourage her.

"Look at that." Tsukishima smirked, watching with clear amusement. "Is she even running? She looks like she’s about to pass out any second now."

Yamaguchi chuckled, trying to hold back his laughter as he watched Y/N reach the starting line again. Her posture was messy, her shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath, and the expression on her face was pure agony. Running under the sun was exhausting enough, but for her, it seemed like pure torture.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen her put this much effort into something physical," Yamaguchi remarked, tilting his head with mild curiosity.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he continued watching.

"If whatever she’s doing counts as 'effort,' then the bar is set way too low."

The two of them continued watching the scene, seeing how Nayuta said something to Y/N, probably encouraging her not to give up. Even so, her steps remained clumsy, almost as if her own body were protesting against the activity.

"We could place bets," Tsukishima murmured with an amused tone. "How many more laps do you think she’ll last before she gets injured?"

Yamaguchi gave him a mildly reproachful look, though he couldn’t help but laugh.

"Come on, Tsukki, don’t be so cruel. At least she’s trying."

"That’s what makes it even funnier."

Tsukishima didn’t look away, even after you finished your final lap and practically collapsed onto one of the benches, arms sprawled out and chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath.

Nayuta, sitting beside you with a less dramatic but equally exhausted expression, glanced at you before noticing something interesting across the court.

"Hey," she murmured, leaning slightly toward you. "The blond with glasses is staring at you."

"What blond with glasses?" You frowned without opening your eyes.

"Who do you think? Tsukishima." Her tone was full of amusement. "He’s been watching you for a while."

You cracked one eye open in disbelief and turned slightly, trying to be discreet. And sure enough, across the court, Tsukishima was still standing with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his gaze fixed on you.

"What the hell is he looking at?" you muttered, letting your head fall back onto the bench, too drained to deal with him at the moment.

Nayuta smirked mischievously.

"Pervert," you sighed, shaking your head before slowly sitting up on the bench.

Nayuta chuckled, watching as you stretched lazily, trying to relieve the tension in your muscles. You couldn’t shake the feeling of Tsukishima’s gaze still on you, as if he were waiting for you to do something else for his entertainment.

With a sigh, you turned your head toward him and, without thinking too much, stuck your tongue out at him in a childish gesture.

From a distance, Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised by your reaction. However, instead of getting annoyed or looking away, he simply let out a barely perceptible scoff.

"Grow up," you could read from the movement of his lips.

You rolled your eyes and refocused on Nayuta, who was watching you with amusement.

You stood up and ran a hand across your forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat rolling down your heated skin. The light summer breeze was a momentary relief as you calmly walked toward the other court, feeling the sticky fabric of your uniform clinging to your skin.

Without thinking too much about what you were doing, you planted yourself in front of Tsukishima, who barely looked up at you, raising an eyebrow as if he were already expecting you to say something ridiculous.

"Do you have plans after class?" you asked with apparent indifference, though the weight of the question hung in the air between you.

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, analyzing your expression with the same precision he used to study every move on the volleyball court.

"Are you that desperate?"

You held his gaze and, without missing a beat, shrugged.

"You're taking too long."

For a moment, the silence between you felt heavier, but then Tsukishima let out a low chuckle, rolling his eyes with something that wasn’t quite annoyance but wasn’t amusement either.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're too slow to ask me out on a second date. I know you're dying to take me out again," you said without hesitation, leaning slightly toward him, enjoying the slight furrow of his brow.

Tsukishima held your gaze for a moment, his expression carefully neutral, but you already recognized that spark in his eyes, that almost imperceptible glint that betrayed the fact that you had struck a nerve.

Clicking his tongue, he feigned annoyance as he briefly looked away. Of course, he wanted to go out with you again, but admitting it out loud would give you too much of an advantage.

"Fine. Where do you want to go?" he finally asked, looking back at you with the same impassive expression as always, though his eyes gleamed with a hint of curiosity.

You crossed your arms and tilted your head with feigned exasperation.

"Do I have to think of that for you too?"

"I guess I'll have to surprise you," Tsukishima said with a light sigh.

"I hope so," you replied, tilting your head with a self-satisfied smile.

The blond slid his hands into his pockets and, after a brief pause, added casually:

"I'll text you so we know where to meet."

You were about to nod when something clicked in your head.

Wait… when did you give him your number?

Your expression shifted for a moment, caught between confusion and suspicion. You opened your mouth to ask, but just then, the coach's whistle echoed through the air, drawing everyone's attention.

"Alright, it's the boys' turn! Line up and get ready for the first test."

The conversation was abruptly cut short. Tsukishima barely spared you one last glance before heading off with the rest of his class.

--------------------------------------------------

You rushed down the stairs as soon as you heard the doorbell, hoping to get there before anyone else. Just as you reached for the doorknob, you took a small breath to steady your racing heartbeat and opened the door without much ceremony.

And there he was.

Tsukishima Kei stood in the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, that impassive expression seemingly etched onto his face. His eyes quickly scanned you before he raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to break the silence first.

"Tsukishima!" you blurted out, with more enthusiasm than you had intended. He actually came. Maybe you should put a little more faith in this guy.

"Y/N?" Your mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen, followed by the sound of her footsteps approaching. Your stomach dropped in panic. "Who is it?"

"No one!" you replied quickly, trying to push the door closed just enough to block her view, but you weren’t fast enough.

In an instant, she was beside you, and with the ease of someone who knew you too well, she leaned in and gently moved your hands aside, pulling the door open completely. Her expression shifted from curiosity to interest in mere seconds as she took in Tsukishima’s tall figure standing in the doorway.

"Oh, are you one of Y/N’s friends?" she asked, narrowing her eyes knowingly as she glanced between the two of you.

"Something like that," you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"Oh, I see." Her eyes flicked toward the entrance as if expecting to find someone else, but when she didn’t, her lips curled into an amused smile. "Just the two of you? I thought you were going out with more friends."

"Uh-huh." Your mother crossed her arms, making no effort to hide her teasing smile. "Don’t come back too late."

You rolled your eyes before stepping outside, feeling your mother’s gaze on you until the very last second. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that if you did, her amused expression would only make the warmth on your face even worse.

Once outside, you let out a sigh and glanced at Tsukishima out of the corner of your eye.

"Where are we going?" you asked, following him as he walked at a leisurely pace.

Tsukishima didn’t stop or turn to look at you, but after a few minutes, he finally responded.

"You told me you wanted to be surprised. I can’t tell you, or it would ruin it."

"You’re right." You pursed your lips in slight resignation.

A brief silence settled between you as you walked. The summer breeze played with your hair, and even though you didn’t know exactly where he was taking you, there was something oddly pleasant about walking by his side.

Suddenly, you felt something warm brush against your hand. You didn’t have time to react before Tsukishima’s fingers intertwined with yours in a motion as casual as it was unexpected.

Tsukishima Kei was holding your hand. It wasn’t the first time, of course. He had done it before—maybe three times in total—but there had always been a reason: to guide you somewhere, to keep you from tripping, or simply because he had no other choice. Never spontaneously. Never just because he wanted to.

But this time, there was no excuse. There was no practical reason to justify the way his skin pressed against yours or the firm way his fingers laced with yours. It was intentional.

Your heart skipped a beat, and without meaning to, you squeezed his hand slightly, waiting for some kind of reaction. However, Tsukishima kept his gaze fixed ahead, as if he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

"What’s wrong? Why did you stop?" Tsukishima suddenly asked, coming to a halt. His grip tightened slightly, returning the pressure with the same intensity. His sharp, curious eyes locked onto yours.

The abrupt pause made the sounds of the street more noticeable—the distant honk of a car, the murmur of passing conversations, the warm afternoon wind caressing your skin. But all of that faded when you realized he was still waiting for an answer.

"Nothing, I’m fine," you murmured, looking away. You felt the heat creeping up your neck, that ridiculous nervousness he always managed to stir in you so effortlessly.

The blond studied you for a moment, mild doubt flickering across his expression, but he didn’t let go of your hand. On the contrary, he tightened his hold before continuing forward with a steady pace. He finally stopped in front of a cozy-looking café, its façade adorned with small, warm lights and a chalkboard sign displaying the day’s menu in white scribbles. Without releasing your hand, he pushed open the door, the harmonious chime of a bell ringing above your heads.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet desserts filled the air, enveloping you in a warmth that contrasted with the stifling summer heat outside. You looked around, taking in the rustic decor and wooden tables occupied by groups of students and couples quietly conversing.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, didn’t take a second to admire the place. He seemed to know it well, confidently guiding you through the space to a table in the corner, next to a large window that let in the afternoon light.

“Sit down,” he said simply, only letting go of your hand once you were both beside the seats.

“Do you come here often?” you asked, still processing the choice of place.

“Sometimes,” he replied without giving it much thought. “It’s not a bad spot.”

“Tsukki…” you began to say, but he interrupted you before you could finish.

“Kei,” he corrected, his tone softer than usual, running a hand through his blonde hair. “You can call me Kei, no need to use my last name.”

The request caught you off guard, but you quickly tried how his name felt on your tongue.

“Kei…” you murmured, savoring it before affirming with more certainty. “Yes, Kei.”

Before you could continue the conversation, a waitress approached with a notepad in hand and a polite smile.

“Welcome. Have you decided what you’d like to order?”

You took a quick glance at the menu but already knew what you wanted.

“A coffee and…” you hesitated for a second. “A chocolate muffin, please.”

The waitress noted your order before turning to Tsukishima.

“Black coffee,” he answered without hesitation. “And a slice of strawberry cake.”

“Right away,” the waitress replied before walking away.

A silence settled between you after the waitress left. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something about him that made you shift slightly in your seat. The subtle movement of your leg betrayed your nerves as your mind desperately tried to come up with a topic of conversation that could flow between you two.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, seemed perfectly comfortable with the silence. He took his time adding a sugar packet to his coffee, stirring it slowly before bringing the cup to his lips. His relaxed posture contrasted with the slight tension you felt in your shoulders, and the way his eyes casually scanned the café gave the impression that he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with unnecessary words.

Finally, you found a starting point. Your eyes caught sight of the book subtly peeking out from inside his backpack, the spine barely visible but enough to recognize the title. The surprise was instant: not only did you know that book, but it was one of your favorites. A slight flicker of interest crossed his expression when you mentioned your thoughts on the work, and although his initial response was brief, you noticed the change in his posture: his back was no longer fully leaning against the chair, and he slightly leaned forward.

The conversation flowed from there. You found out that he had a penchant for psychological thrillers, although he found most movie adaptations disappointing. You both agreed that few films managed to capture the essence of their favorite books, though there was one in particular that you both defended as an exception.

You were surprised to realize that you had more in common than you had imagined. It was almost fascinating to see Tsukishima speak so fluidly, setting aside his usual apathy to dive into a topic that truly interested him. His voice, usually calm and calculated, now had a different tone, as if he was finally saying something without measuring each word with caution.

Between each sentence, he took small bites of his strawberry cake, pausing just enough to savor the sweetness before continuing with his explanation. He seemed so absorbed in the conversation that he didn’t even notice the slight blush on your cheeks as you watched him.

Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence, his sharp gaze locking onto you with a hint of uncertainty.

"Am I talking too much?" he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly.

You blinked, realizing that you had been silent, only nodding occasionally as he spoke.

"No, no, not at all!" you exclaimed immediately, shaking your hands energetically in front of you. You didn’t want him to misinterpret your lack of words; the truth was, you were too captivated by the fact that he was sharing so much with you.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction, but said nothing.

"Go ahead, keep going, Kei," you added with a smile, saying his name with a natural ease that made him pause for a second.

You noticed the slight hesitation in his expression, as if he wasn’t sure whether you were being serious. But something in your tone seemed to convince him, because he set the fork aside and, after a brief breath, continued.

It was curious to see him like this, so comfortable. Tsukishima always seemed reserved, measuring his words precisely, as if speaking too much was a waste of time. But in that moment, he seemed genuinely interested in sharing his thoughts with you.

Every now and then, you noticed small changes in his body language. When he mentioned a book that had impacted him, his posture would lean slightly forward, his fingers would absentmindedly fiddle with the napkin on the table, or his eyebrow would subtly raise when he described a particularly well-written scene.

Kei didn’t hesitate to take your hand when both of you stood up from the table to pay, and he made no attempt to let go once you both stepped outside the café. Held between his fingers, the warmth of his skin contrasted with the cool breeze of the afternoon, and the contact felt surprisingly natural, as if it had always been this way.

There didn’t seem to be a hint of doubt or hesitation in him. In fact, his thumb moved unconsciously over the back of your hand, tracing soft circles, distracted by the gesture. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was even aware of what he was doing.

The walk back passed in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. From time to time, the sound of traffic or some distant conversation filled the air, but between you two, there seemed to be no need for words.

You lightly squeezed his hand, seeking a reaction, and though he didn’t turn his face, you noticed the subtle movement of his jaw, as if he were suppressing a smile.

The small pieces in your mind clicked into place with a soft thud when an interesting thought crossed your mind.

Without giving him much time to react, you moved a little closer to Kei, closing the small distance between you until your side deliberately brushed against his. You felt the rigidity in his posture, the almost imperceptible way his breathing faltered for a second.

You secured your grip on his hand, intertwining your fingers even more with a slow movement, letting the brush of your skin against his speak for itself. His thumb, which had been moving absentmindedly over the back of your hand, now remained still, your gesture had caught him off guard.

A shiver ran down his spine, barely noticeable but enough to make him aware of every point of contact between you. It wasn’t just the warmth of your skin seeping through your clothes, nor the way you had tightened your grip on his hands with more intention—it was the boldness with which you did it, the confidence with which you held onto him without hesitation.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him feel this way, with that sharp unease spreading through his chest, as if he were on the edge of something he didn’t know how to handle. His first instinct was to pull away, to regain the distance he so carefully maintained with others... but he didn’t.

His analytical mind searched for a quick response, a biting comment to break the moment, to regain control that he felt slipping through his fingers. His breathing became heavier, barely perceptible, but enough to betray the stiffness that took over him. It wasn’t just the closeness that made him feel like this—it was the way you did it, as if you knew exactly what you were provoking. Your touch didn’t have the awkwardness of someone testing boundaries, but the confidence of someone who enjoyed crossing them.

He tried to focus on anything else, on the night breeze, the distant sound of cars, any mundane detail that would help him ignore the fact that his body was reacting in ways he didn’t want to admit. He wetted his lips, partly to try to relieve the sudden dryness in his mouth, partly to buy himself a second before the right words came to mind. But in that moment, his mind was too busy dealing with the only truth he couldn’t ignore: he wanted you much more than he was willing to admit.

Hello guys it's me, What do you guys think about this chapter, did you like it?

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

ᵀˢᵘᵏⁱˢʰⁱᵐᵃ ᴷᵉⁱ⁽ハイキュー!!⁾ˣ ᶠᵉᵐ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Author's note: Quick update because I wanted to update and use this banner

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳ ˡⁱˢᵗ

By the time you returned to the gym, the match between Karasuno and Nekoma had already concluded. Now it was Fukurodani's turn to face off, a team with more experienced players and flawless coordination who, from the very first whistle, began accumulating points in their favor.

The first thing you noticed when you looked at the court was the absence of Hinata. In his place, Narita had taken the position that usually belonged to the redhead, while Hinata sat on the bench with the other substitute players.

You furrowed your brows slightly before walking directly toward him, not bothering to hide your concern. Hinata was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, watching the match intently. As soon as he noticed your presence, he turned his head toward you with an expression of frustration mixed with resignation.

“What happened?” you asked straightforwardly, leaning slightly toward him.

Hinata puffed out his cheeks in annoyance before letting out a sigh.

“Ukai made me rest this set,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. “He says I need to learn to control my energy and observe more before throwing myself headfirst into everything.”

“Then you must've done something to piss him off to make him leave you here,” you concluded, placing a hand on your hip while the other ruffled his hair mercilessly.

“I think so…” He shrugged, pursing his lips like a scolded child.

For a moment, silence fell between you, interrupted only by the shouts of players on the court. Then, Hinata turned his head toward you with a suddenly mischievous expression.

"By the way... Speaking of things that should be thought about before doing..."

His sing-song tone immediately put you on alert. You squinted at him.

"What are you implying?"

Hinata grinned from ear to ear.

"Nothing... Just saw something pretty interesting. Something about a certain kiss with Tsukishima."

Your eyes went wide.

"Hinata!" you exclaimed, quickly covering your mouth to silence him before he could say anything more.

The redhead jerked back in surprise, but before you could react, you felt something wet on your palm.

"Did you just lick my hand?!" you yelled, pulling it away quickly with an expression of complete disgust.

Hinata burst out laughing loudly, using your distraction to pull away just a few inches.

"That's what you get for trying to silence me!" he joked, sticking out his tongue.

"You're disgusting!" you retorted, wiping your hand on his uniform without a second thought.

"Hey, don't do that!" he complained, trying to pull away from you, but you'd already decided to get your revenge, lightly pushing him in the head with your open palm.

"Why'd you do that?! You're a wild child!"

"You shouldn't have covered my mouth!" he defended himself through his laughter. "That just made it seem more suspicious."

"There’s nothing suspicious!" you huffed, crossing your arms. "And if you keep talking about it, I swear I’ll make Ukai bench you for the whole match."

Hinata feigned horror, putting his hands on his face.

"You wouldn’t dare!"

"Try me."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Knowing him, this wouldn't end here; however, for now, you were satisfied with having silenced him… at least temporarily.

After a couple more sets, the match came to an end, and it was time to head back to Miyagi. With fatigue starting to settle into your muscles, you followed the guys to the bus, quickly scanning for an empty seat by the window.

Finally, you found the perfect spot: a seat near the middle of the bus, with a clear view of the landscape that would stretch out during the ride back. You sighed in relief and settled in, resting your head against the glass as the rest of the team noisily boarded.

However, your brief moment of peace was interrupted when a tall, thin figure stopped next to your seat.

"Move."

You rolled your eyes before turning to meet Tsukishima's bored gaze.

"There are plenty of empty seats, why don't you pick another one?"

"Because I like this one," he replied as if that justified his actions.

You sighed in exasperation, but instead of arguing, you decided to save your breath and simply pressed your body more against the window to give him space. Tsukishima sat down next to you without ceremony, dropping his backpack between the two of you like an improvised barrier.

"What an honor, sharing a seat with His Highness Tsukishima," you commented sarcastically, crossing your arms.

"Not everyone has the privilege, take advantage of it," he replied with his usual arrogance, adjusting his headphones.

"Of course, not everyone has the pleasure of sitting next to someone with the charisma of a rock," you shot back, glaring at him.

"Well, that’s quite the remark. Did you think of that yourself, or do you need help even with that?"

"How charming," you said with a forced smile. "I wonder how anyone can stand being near you for more than five minutes."

"I say the same thing," he responded, reclining against the seat without paying you any more attention.

You rolled your eyes and rested your elbow on the armrest, turning just enough to glance at him.

"It must be a real social challenge for you, huh? Having to interact with other human beings without scaring them off in the first few minutes."

Tsukishima snorted, not taking his eyes off the window.

"I don't need to be liked by everyone. Unlike some people, I don't base my existence on others' approval."

"Oh, sure. You're too special for that," you said with feigned admiration. "It must be exhausting being you. So much arrogance in one body can't be healthy," you continued.

Tsukishima didn’t even bother to look at you. He just adjusted his headphones around his neck and sighed with fake laziness.

"And yet, here I am. Perfectly functional."

"Functional is a generous word."

"Compared to you, anything seems generous."

You raised an eyebrow, turning slightly toward him.

"I wonder if at any point in your life you've ever been genuinely kind to someone."

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, as if the very idea was absurd.

"Maybe, but certainly not to anyone who annoys me as much as you."

"Curious, because you’re still sitting next to me. Shouldn't you be fleeing to another seat?"

He shrugged, glancing out the window.

"And leave you with the last word? Not in a million years."

You smiled with amusement, leaning back against the seat, ready to throw a witty reply. But just as you were about to speak, Tsukishima beat you to it with his characteristic condescending tone.

"I’ll ignore you so you don’t keep humiliating yourself."

Your smile immediately faded, replaced by a furrowed brow. You shot him a glare, but he had already turned his gaze forward, giving you the impression that he really wasn’t going to say another word for the rest of the trip.

"That damn bitch," You said Internally crossing your arms in irritation.

He didn't even bother to respond, which only made your annoyance grow. Fine, two could play that game. If he wanted to ignore you, you'd do the same.

The trip went on in an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, although the bus was still filled with lively conversations and laughter from the other players. Eventually, the monotonous rhythm of the vehicle and the swaying of the road seemed to take effect on Tsukishima, who began to lean slightly to one side, his head subtly swaying every time the bus hit a bump.

You rolled your eyes, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked more relaxed with his eyes closed, his serious expression softened by sleep. If he weren't so proud and selfish, maybe you would have had the decency to let him rest his head on your shoulder. But no.

He had decided to ignore you first. Let him deal with it.

Still, when his head got dangerously close to falling, your instinct acted faster than your pride, and with a subtle movement, you gently pushed his shoulder to keep him upright. Tsukishima frowned slightly in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

You sighed, looking away from him and focusing on the landscape that passed fleetingly outside the window. It made no sense. Out of all the people you interacted with daily, out of all the teammates who were kinder, more open, easier to understand... why him?

Tsukishima Kei, with his sarcastic attitude, sharp gaze, and constant effort to keep others at a distance, shouldn't have caught your attention. And yet, there you were, worrying about whether his head would fall with a thud while he slept.

Maybe you were a masochist. Or maybe, deep down, there was something about him that made you want to understand him.

Tsukishima wasn’t fully asleep.

He was aware, on some level, of the slight pressure on his shoulder, the way someone—you—gently pushed him to prevent him from slumping over. And even more aware of the fact that, instead of getting irritated, he felt an absurd warmth in his chest.

It was frustrating. Ridiculous.

He didn’t understand why it was so easy for him to provoke you, to make you indignant, to get you to face him with that stubbornness that both exasperated and entertained him in equal measure. He didn’t understand why, despite his attitude, you kept coming back with just as sarcastic comments, unafraid to challenge him.

He didn’t understand why, when he thought of you, the first thing that came to his mind wasn’t the sound of your scolding, but the way your laughter sometimes broke the air, light and carefree.

He clenched his lips in annoyance, trying to ignore the direction his thoughts were taking, but it was useless. It was as if, now that he had admitted your presence in his head, he couldn’t get you out of it.

There was something about you that was unlike anyone else. Maybe it was the way your accent slipped into certain words when you spoke too quickly, turning common phrases into something unusually captivating. Or the way you sometimes stumbled over a Japanese word, and instead of getting frustrated, you laughed at yourself and kept trying, not caring if anyone else mocked you.

Not that he mocked you. Not really.

It was easy to make it seem that way, because provoking you had become something of a pastime, but in reality… in reality, he liked listening to you speak. There was something in the musicality of your voice, in the slightly different intonation you used, that he found strangely pleasant.

And then there were the little things. The way you sometimes focused so hard on something that you furrowed your brows slightly, unaware that someone was watching you. The way your excitement overflowed when you talked about something you were passionate about, moving your hands as if words alone weren’t enough to express yourself.

Tsukishima didn’t like people who were too loud, or people who were too enthusiastic. But somehow, when it came to you, the energy you radiated didn’t annoy him. It was just genuine. Just… you.

He wasn’t supposed to like you.

But he did.

And that was a problem.

Because Tsukishima Kei wasn’t the type to fall in love easily. He wasn’t the type to get swept up by silly feelings, to stare at someone like an idiot just because they had a pretty smile. But here he was, pretending to sleep, while every little detail about you filled his mind like a damn puzzle he couldn’t solve.

Maybe all he needed was a little bit of love, a touch of that warmth that made you so different. A love that could take away that invisible weight he always carried, that layer of disdain that had been forged over the years.

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count:3249

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The atmosphere in the room was filled with a warm sense of camaraderie, a small respite after the intense day of matches. You plopped down onto the soft mattress, stretching your arms above your head as you stifled a yawn. Slowly getting up, you crawled on your knees towards the group of girls who had formed a circle on the carpet.

In the center, Miyanoshita was expertly finishing folding a paper cootie catcher, making sure the creases were perfect before she began writing words inside. Yachi, with her characteristic nervousness, made space for you beside her, giving you a shy smile.

“It’s ready,” the girl announced excitedly, holding up the paper game for everyone to see. “Who wants to start?”

The girls looked at each other, some with restrained smiles and others with expressions of slight doubt. Suzumeda brushed her hair behind her ear indecisively while Shirofuku laughed quietly.

“Come on, anyone up for it?” Miyanoshita insisted, waving the cootie catcher in the air.

“I’ll go,” you broke the silence confidently, shuffling forward a little and holding out your hand.

Yachi watched you expectantly while Miyanoshita nodded in satisfaction. “Okay, pick a number.”

You looked at the cootie catcher and quickly chose. “Eleven.”

Miyanoshita flicked the paper, opening and closing it eleven times before looking at the options inside. “Now pick a word,” she instructed, holding it out in front of you.

Your finger pointed at random, and everyone leaned a little closer to see the result.

Shirofuku covered her mouth with one hand to hide her laughter. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”

“Come on, read it out loud!” Suzumeda exclaimed excitedly.

Her smile widened before she read aloud, “You have to steal a kiss from the number eleven on your team.”

There was a second of silence before the entire group erupted into excited giggles and murmurs. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you immediately understood who the dare was referring to.

“Lucky you,” you muttered, your smile faltering as you looked at the girls.

“Rules are rules,” Miyanoshita hummed, waving the paper in amusement.

“Come on, it won’t be that hard,” Suzumeda chimed in with a playful laugh.

“Hard? Tsukishima doesn’t exactly seem like someone who is approachable,” Shirofuku commented with a raised eyebrow.

“All the more reason to make it quick,” Kiyoko added with a slight smile, causing everyone to look at her in surprise at her sudden contribution.

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you thought, feeling the heat wash over you even more. You looked at the girls, all of them with a mix of amusement and nervousness, and nodded determinedly.

“You could choose a punishment instead,” Shirofuku suggested in a sympathetic tone, but the mockery in her gaze indicated that it wouldn’t be that easy to get out of the task.

You let out a sigh and stood up with feigned resignation. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if he kills me afterwards, I want my funeral recorded.”

The laughter echoed again as they all stood up with you, forming a small entourage of conspirators who set out into the hallway in search of their target. You walked with cautious steps, your heart pounding as you scanned the hallway until you finally saw him:

Tsukishima stood in front of the vending machine, inserting a few coins with his usual bored expression.

“There it is,” Yachi muttered, giving you a gentle push on the back.

You took a deep breath before moving forward with determination. The others stayed at a safe distance, watching with obvious expectation.

Tsukishima didn’t seem to notice your presence until you were already next to him. Just as he pressed the button for his drink, you stood on your tiptoes and, without giving him time to react, you brushed the corner of his lips in a quick kiss before immediately taking a step back.

The can landed with a clang into the machine, but the real bang came seconds later.

“OOOHHHHHHH!”

You turned around startled to find Nishinoya and Tanaka gaping, with Hinata and Kageyama behind them, all with expressions of absolute astonishment.

“NOT WAY!” Nishinoya shouted, pointing at Tsukishima as if he had just witnessed a miracle.

“W-what was that?” Kageyama asked, confused, while Tsukishima remained frozen in place, still holding the can and his face redder than you had ever seen.

“Hah, this is the best thing that happened to me this week,” Miyanoshita whispered between laughs while Suzumeda and Shirofuku tried to contain themselves.

Tsukishima finally seemed to react, bringing his hand to his mouth and frowning tightly.

“You’re a complete idiot…” he muttered quietly, but the barely perceptible tremor in his tone gave away that you had taken him by surprise.

Your nerves got the better of you and all you could do was give a quick apology and quickly back away from the group of girls watching everything from a corner.

The hallway was silent for a moment before an explosion of laughter echoed behind Tsukishima.

“No way!” Hinata doubled over in laughter, holding her stomach. “Tsukishima went blank!”

“And he even blushed!” Nishinoya added, pointing at him dramatically.

Tanaka slapped him on the back with a mocking smile. “You get nervous over a stolen kiss, Tsukki?”

Kageyama, though less expressive, crossed his arms and looked at him curiously. “What did they do to you?”

Tsukishima closed his eyes in obvious frustration, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to maintain his composure. “Nothing happened.”

But the barely perceptible blush on his cheeks gave him away, which only caused the boys to laugh harder.

Tsukishima clenched his jaw and grabbed his drink from the vending machine, trying to ignore the laughter around him. But the boys weren’t going to make it that easy for him.

“Come on, Tsukishima, one little kiss and you’re already like that?” Nishinoya insisted, nudging him.

Hinata, even more excited, pointed at his face mockingly. “Look at his face! It’s red.”

“Nothing happened,” Tsukishima grumbled, adjusting his glasses in annoyance before turning and walking steadily away towards the dorms. The heat on his face didn’t go away, though, and the echo of his classmates’ taunts accompanied him the whole way.

Meanwhile, you had hurried back to the room, closing the door behind you with a ragged sigh. Your heart was still pounding, and the blush on your cheeks was impossible to hide.

“Well?!” Miyanoshita exclaimed, creeping closer with a smile of pure amusement.

“Your face is red,” Shirofuku observed calmly, though his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Yachi looked at you nervously, as if the emotion of the moment affected her as well. —You did it

Kiyoko gave you an expectant look, clearly waiting for confirmation.

You sighed, bringing your hands to your cheeks to try to dissipate the heat. —Yes…

"I knew it!" Suzumeda high-fived Miyanoshita, both of them laughing knowingly.

"And not only did you do it, but you enjoyed it" Miyanoshita added with a mischievous smile.

"Not true!" you exclaimed quickly, although the way you avoided her gaze said otherwise.

Shirofuku rested his chin on his hand, watching you with amusement. —Oh, you did enjoy it.

"Why not?! He's tall, handsome, and has that bad boy attitude!" Suzumeda intervened, exaggerating a dramatic sigh.

"Don't overdo it…"you murmured, unable to erase the nervous smile on your lips.

The morning passed with a deceptive tranquility. There were no direct comments about what happened the night before, but the knowing glances from the girls and the mocking smiles from Tanaka, Nishinoya, Kageyama and Hinata every time you walked past them reminded you that no one had forgotten what happened last night.

The hallway was silent, interrupted only by the echo of your hurried footsteps on the linoleum floor. You held your towels a little tighter to your chest, as if that would make you invisible, but fate seemed to have other plans for you.

As you turned the last corner before the gym, you collided with someone tall and firm as a wall. A quick pair of hands kept you from losing your balance, but the towels you were carrying weren’t so lucky, slipping from your arms and falling in a messy pile on the floor.

“Really?” Tsukishima’s unmistakable voice rang out with his usual exasperated tone.

“S-Sorry…” you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you bent down to hastily pick them up.

To your surprise, he did the same, picking them up with ease. His expression showed no annoyance, but there was something about the way his golden eyes landed on you that made you look away.

“Are you going to carry them all by yourself?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed you half the pile.

“I can handle it myself…” you insisted, though your tone lacked much conviction.

Tsukishima snorted in barely perceptible amusement. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go, before the idiots see us and start another round of stupidity.”

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the nearly empty hallway, the echo bouncing off the walls as the two of you walked forward in a tense silence. Tsukishima walked beside you, his expression inscrutable, the towels in his arms like a shield separating him from any conversation you might initiate.

The weight of the situation was pressing down on your chest, and you felt like if you didn't speak now, the awkwardness would swallow you whole.

"About last night..." you began cautiously, keeping your gaze on the floor.

Tsukishima let out a sigh, but didn't stop.

"I don't want to hear an apology," he interrupted you with his dry, characteristic tone.

You frowned, surprised by his answer.

"But I..."

"Why did you do it?" he asked bluntly, his voice devoid of apparent emotion, but with a hint of curiosity that didn't go unnoticed.

You bit your lower lip, looking away. The truth was simple, but saying it out loud made it seem even more absurd.

"It was a dare," you finally confessed, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks. You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the way his golden eyes bore into you with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Tsukishima let out a huff, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

“So you stole a kiss from me just because someone told you to? How obedient,” he commented with a smirk, leaning slightly towards you.

You frowned, offended by his tone, though the heat on your cheeks gave you away.

“It’s not like I meant to,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms.

“Sure…” he murmured with feigned understanding, his expression still amused. “So, if someone challenges you again, are you going to do it again?”

You shot him a glare, but Tsukishima simply arched an eyebrow, as if he was actually expecting an answer.

“I don’t know, Do you want me to do it?” you blurted out without thinking, a little defiant.

For a moment, the blond looked surprised, but his expression softened with something you couldn't interpret.

“Hmph. I guess we could try again. But this time, do it right.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, keeping a neutral expression as you walked together down the gym hallway.

“You're talking nonsense,” you muttered, not giving it much thought.

As you reached the gym, the hustle and bustle of training filled the air. Tsukishima dropped the pile of towels on the small supply cart and, without saying anything else, headed toward the court, where the players were practicing their serves and receptions.

You quickly arranged the supplies before heading toward Ukai. As soon as you approached, the familiar scent of cigarettes impregnated in his clothes reached you, a constant that was associated with his presence. The coach stood by the line of the court, arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the players, evaluating each movement with a critical eye.

“Do you need anything else before formal practice begins?” you asked, keeping a neutral tone, accustomed to the routine.

Ukai let out a soft sigh, eyes narrowing as he watched Hinata perform a serve.

“Let them not kill each other before the match,” he replied wryly, watching as Hinata slipped away from Kageyama’s furious scolding after missing one of his receptions.

“One thing at a time,” you commented in a light tone, crossing your arms as you followed the scene with your gaze.

Training continued with its usual intensity. The players moved with energy, repeating plays over and over again under the watchful supervision of the coaches. The sound of the ball bouncing against the ground was almost constant, an echo of the concentration and effort that permeated the gym. The team gathered in a small circle at the edge of the court, listening intently to the final instructions before the most demanding practice of the day.

“You can do it, boys!” You cheered enthusiastically, giving both thumbs up in the boys’ direction, a brief, genuine smile on your face.

—Umh... excuse me.

Cautiously, you reached out and poked the cheek of the blonde woman sleeping on the futon, covered from the waist down by a sheet, with your index finger. You expected at least a layer of clothing under that fabric. Before you could decide whether to insist or let her sleep, the woman woke up abruptly, making you take a step back, surprised.

"You're finally awake" you commented, bringing a hand to your chest to calm the shock.

The blonde blinked several times, looking around with a confused expression. Her gaze scanned the classroom, as if trying to locate herself in time and space, while she muttered something unintelligible to herself.

"Umh... you're Saeko Tanaka, right?"

The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stretched her arms above her head, letting out a yawn before scratching the back of her neck nonchalantly.

“What time is it?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

You glanced quickly at your watch before answering her. When you looked back at her, you noticed she was already watching you with an arched eyebrow, analyzing you with open curiosity.

“ who are you?”

Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was inquisitive enough to make you hesitate for a second before answering.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a slight nod. “I help out at the volleyball team your brother plays on.”

Saeko tilted her head, as if trying to fit the information into her still sleepy mind. Suddenly, a spark of recognition lit up her expression.

“Ah, I know who you are,” she said with a lazy smile, resting an elbow on her knee as she pointed a finger at you. “I’ve heard of you before. My brother has talked quite a bit about the team’s ‘adorable foreign assistant.’”

You couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

“Adorable?”

“Yeah, he said it like that,” she said with a laugh, shrugging. “But he also mentioned that you work really hard with Ukai and keep those messy players at bay.”

You let out a sigh, crossing your arms.

“I do,” you replied proudly.

Saeko looked at you with a half smile, but before you could say anything else, she let out a sigh and muttered,

“Help me find my pants?”

The request took you by surprise. You opened your eyes in disbelief, blinking a few times as if you had misheard “What?”

“I had a little too much to drink last night,” she admitted casually as she rummaged through her bag for something. “And now I don’t know where I left my pants.”

You brought a hand to your forehead, suppressing a laugh.

“Okay, I’ll help you.”

The two of you began to inspect the classroom, checking between chairs and desks for the missing item of clothing. As you walked forward, curiosity got the better of you.

“Who were you drinking with last night?”

Saeko chuckled, as if she had expected the question.

“Oh, with some teachers and coaches,” Saeko answered, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she watched you from her position on the futon. “Takeda was there, though he didn’t drink much. He was more of the leader of the group.”

“That sounds like him,” you commented, giving a slight smile.

“Ukai, on the other hand… well, I don’t know how he’s still alive with the amount of alcohol that man can handle,” you added with a laugh. “And some coaches from other teams were there too, I don’t remember all their names, but one of them insisted on having shot competitions.”

You raised an eyebrow as you pulled a pair of wrinkled pants out from under a chair and held them up.

“You were part of the competition?”

“Obviously,” she said proudly, taking the pants from your hands. “And I don’t want to brag, but I think I put a few of those guys to shame.”

You shook your head, amused.

“What surprises me is that you didn’t wake up in a worse place.”

Saeko casually pulled on her pants and shrugged.

“Oh, it’s happened before. But for now, I need coffee. Are you coming with me or do you have to go back to being the adorable assistant?”

You paused for a moment to consider her invitation. The boys were in a match against Nekoma, and while you didn’t want to be pessimistic, you already knew how that would end. Plus, Saeko seemed like someone fun to hang out with.

“I’m going with you,” you finally decided.

Saeko smiled approvingly, and together, they headed to the school cafeteria. At this hour, the place was relatively quiet, with only a few students scattered around the tables. They lined up to order coffee, and as they waited, Saeko turned her head slightly towards you with an interested expression.

“So, what brought you here? I mean, to Japan,” Saeko asked, stepping forward as the line moved forward.

It took you a moment to respond, absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before clasping your hands behind your back.

“My parents were offered a good job here, which is why we moved,” you explained naturally.

“Ah, I see. And how has the experience been?” she inquired with genuine interest, turning her head slightly towards you.

“It was a little difficult to adjust at first, especially because of the language and culture. But over time, I started to enjoy it. There are so many interesting things here, and working with the team has been one of the best parts,” you concluded with a genuine smile.

“That’s good. Not everyone manages to adapt so easily,” Saeko commented curiously before tilting her head slightly. “With or without sugar?”

“Without sugar,” you replied with a smile.

The blonde nodded and, when it was her turn, she ordered both drinks. Once they were served, they headed to one of the empty tables by the window, where the natural light softly illuminated the wooden surface.

The conversation flowed easily, jumping from one topic to another without a fixed direction. At some point, Saeko began to tell you a long anecdote about her rocky relationship with a boy from her university, a story that had lasted almost five months and that, according to her, was a mix of indecision, misunderstandings and pure exasperation.

“And trust me, collage men can be even more complicated than teenagers. If you thought high school kids were indecisive, wait until you deal with one of these,” he said, dramatically stirring his coffee.

“And that’s not even the worst part—” He cut himself off abruptly as his phone screen lit up with an incoming notification.

He took the device and read the message with a resigned expression before quickly typing a reply.

“Ahh, sorry, sweetie, but I have to go,” he said with a sigh, putting the phone back in his jacket pocket.

“Don’t worry,” you replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’m just glad we got to chat for a while.”

“We definitely need to do this again. Next time, with something stronger than coffee,” he said matter-of-factly.

You weren’t sure if he realized you were barely fifteen, but you decided to let it go. Instead of correcting her, you simply rolled your eyes in amusement.

“We’ll see.”

“That sounds like a ‘yes,’” she hummed, winking at you before dismissing you with a casual wave of her hand.

You watched her walk out of the cafeteria with her carefree energy, her blonde hair whipping around with every step. You smiled to yourself before letting out a soft sigh and taking the last sip of your coffee. The moment of rest had been nice, but it was time to head back to the gym.

[b1xi]

Tsutomu Goshiki x reader | teen pregnancy series | pt.1 the news

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between goshiki and reader.

wc. | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst, teen pregnancy mentions, fluff, etc. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

general headcanons

╭⋅The moment he realizes what’s happening, he goes into full dramatic mode. His first thoughts aren’t even about responsibility or the future—it’s more like, “OH MY GOD, A BABY? ME? A DAD? WHAT IF THEY THINK I’M LAME?!” ╭⋅He starts overthinking immediately—“Do babies like volleyball? What if I spike too hard and scare them? Will they think my jump serve is cool? WHAT IF I DROP THEM?!” ╭⋅Despite panicking, he never once considers running away or avoiding the situation. He may be dramatic, but he’s loyal as hell. ╭⋅After the initial freak-out, he does a complete 180 and starts acting like he’s got it all under control—even if he clearly doesn’t... He suddenly starts reading parenting books, watching baby videos, and Googling the most ridiculous things. ⋅“Can babies eat rice balls?” ⋅“How do you hold a baby without breaking it?” ⋅“Can babies play volleyball? Asking for a friend.” ╭⋅He Over-Prepares. ⋅Buys a tiny volleyball way too early. He just knows the baby will be a prodigy. ⋅Starts saving money—he has no idea what for, but he feels like he should. ⋅Tries to eat healthier, even though he’s not the one who’s pregnant, lol. “If I’m gonna be a dad, I need to be STRONG.”

You and Goshiki had been together for about six months now. Your relationship had started as a friendship—late-night calls, study sessions, him always trying (and failing) to act cool around you. When he finally confessed, it was dramatic, loud, and completely endearing. Since then, things had been sweet—full of nervous hand-holding, awkward but sincere kisses, and him constantly trying to impress you.

But now… this was something neither of you had ever imagined.

You had been feeling off for a while—exhausted, nauseous, emotional over the tiniest things. At first, you brushed it off as stress from school and staying late to watch Goshiki’s practices. But then, the realization hit. The test confirmed it. And now, you had to tell him.

You had planned to do it after practice, maybe in your usual spot near the gym. But before you could, he found out on his own.

It happened completely by accident. You had asked him to grab something from your bag while you tied your shoe, not thinking twice about it. But when he reached inside, a small folded-up piece of paper slipped out—a doctor’s appointment confirmation. You didn’t notice at first, but when you looked up, Goshiki was standing completely still, staring at it like it was written in another language.

"Prenatal consultation."

His hands shook slightly as he read the words over and over again, his usually loud and confident energy completely gone.

“…What’s this?” His voice came out quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

Your stomach dropped. There was no backing out now.

You swallowed hard. “Goshiki… I was going to tell you. I just—”

“Wait—WAIT.” He held up a hand, as if physically trying to stop time. “This is—this is saying—does this mean—??”

You bit your lip, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m—” You took a shaky breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Goshiki’s face went pale, his eyes impossibly wide. Then, in an instant—

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY?!”

His voice echoed through the empty hallway, pure panic and disbelief clashing in his expression. His breathing picked up, hands still shaking slightly, his entire body stiff like he had just been hit by a truck.

“I—I’m gonna be a dad?!” He looked at you, then at the paper, then at you again, like his brain was malfunctioning. “Like—a real dad? With a real baby?! That’s—a baby? Inside you??”

You winced. “Goshiki—keep your voice down—”

He ignored that completely. “OH MY GOD. I—I CAN’T EVEN DO A JUMP SERVE PERFECTLY YET—HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO—” He gasped. “WHAT IF THE BABY THINKS I’M LAME?!”

You blinked. That’s his concern right now?

Seeing him spiral, you grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight. “Hey—breathe. Please.”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his body still tense. His mind was racing at a thousand miles per hour. He was sixteen. He was a first-year. He was supposed to be focusing on volleyball and proving himself—not this.

But then, he looked at you—really looked at you. And suddenly, his panic took a backseat to something else.

“…Are you okay?” His voice was softer this time, full of genuine concern. “I mean—how do you feel?”

You let out a slow breath. “Scared,” you admitted. “But also… I don’t know. It still doesn’t feel real.”

Goshiki swallowed hard. He still looked like he might pass out, but he straightened his shoulders, trying to pull himself together. He wasn’t the type to back down from anything—not in volleyball, not in proving himself, and certainly not in this.

He nodded, mostly to himself. “O-Okay. Okay. Then… we’re in this together.” His grip on your hands tightened. “I mean—I don’t know anything about being a dad, but—I’ll figure it out. I promise.”

You stared at him, surprised. “Just like that?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, determination taking over his panic. “Just like that.” Then, after a beat—“…Unless you don’t want me to?”

You laughed, despite everything. “Of course I do, dummy.”

Relief washed over his face, though he still looked overwhelmed. He exhaled, rubbing his face. “Holy crap. I’m gonna be a dad.” A pause. Then, almost panicked again—“Wait—DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO TELL USHIJIMA?!”

“…One thing at a time, Goshiki.”

General Taglist:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69 @curlyhairkk @b1xi @reuka1 @feyrfly @elmaa127

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor someone pls tell me and dont be shy, i get really lost with the taglist thingy ahhh

[b1xi]

𝘚𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 ───ハイキュー!!

Shoyo Hinata x reader

The low, steady sound of the television served as a fragile anchor to reality as sleep threatened to drag you down completely. Your eyelids grew heavy with each blink, and your body, exhausted from the long hours of studying and training, sank further into the plush living room couch. A yawn escaped your lips as you rubbed your eyes in an attempt to dispel the lethargy.

“Sho,” you called softly, trying to attract your friend’s attention, though you doubted your weak murmur could compete with the monotonous sound of the screen.

Shoyo Hinata lay bent over the small coffee table, his head resting on a pile of open sheets and notebooks, stained with his own hurried handwriting. A faint trail of saliva moistened one corner of the sheet closest to his face.

“Hinata,” you insisted, reaching out your foot to gently shake him. The only response you got was an unintelligible murmur and a slight shake of his head.

With a resigned sigh, you straightened up a little and leaned towards him.

“Sho, wake up. You can’t fall asleep here. We still have to study for tomorrow’s exam,” you murmured, this time shaking him more insistently.

After several attempts, Hinata finally cracked his eyes open. He blinked slowly, disoriented for a moment, before a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“What time is it?” he asked hoarsely, bringing a hand to his eyes to rub them clear.

“I don’t know, but it’s late. I should be heading home,” you replied, sitting up to begin gathering your notes. You had gone to his house straight after volleyball practice to study together, but time had passed faster than you had anticipated.

Hinata, still half asleep, fumbled for the remote on the floor, his hands aimlessly sliding over the wooden surface illuminated by the blue glow of the television.

“It’s dangerous for you to walk alone at this hour,” he said in a tone of genuine concern. He straightened up a little and looked at you with a slight frown. “Why don’t you stay?” My mom wouldn't have a problem.

You bit your lip, thinking about his proposal. You knew he was right; it was already late at night and walking home alone wasn't the safest option. Besides, with a simple message to your parents, you could avoid any worries.

"Okay, I'll stay," you gave in after a few seconds of silence.

Hinata's face lit up with an enthusiastic smile.

"Great! I can lend you some pajamas," he announced as he turned off the TV and began to pick up the books scattered on the table.

You watched him disappear down the hallway and return shortly after with a striped pajama in his hands. With obvious pride, he held it out in front of you.

"Here you go."

You took the garment and inspected it with an arched eyebrow. The fabric was soft, but as you put it on, you noticed that the sleeves were shorter than expected and that the shirt didn't quite cover the lower part of your torso.

“Looks like your pajamas have decided to shrink a little,” you commented with a mocking smile. “Or maybe you were always a dwarf.”

“Shut up!” he exclaimed, giving you a gentle punch on the arm, his face taking on a slight crimson hue.

His reaction only made you laugh harder.

As the night progressed and the room became dim, you both decided it was time to sleep. Hinata made her way to his bed, and noticing the small space next to the wall, you quickly gestured to it.

“I want that side,” you announced with determination.

Hinata immediately turned around with a frown.

“Why? I saw it first!” he protested, crossing his arms. “Besides, it’s my bed, so I have priority.”

“That’s not fair,” you countered, trying to keep a straight face as a smile threatened to creep onto your lips. “You always get the best spot. This time it’s my turn.”

He clicked his tongue and stared at you, as if he expected you to just give in. But when he saw that you weren’t willing to change your mind, he sighed in resignation.

“Okay, but if you snore, I’ll kick you out of bed.”

“Same here,” you replied with a victorious smile before settling down on the mattress.

The room was plunged into darkness after the subtle click of the lamp turning off. Only the distant glow of the moon filtered through the window, drawing soft shadows on the walls. You settled back on the mattress with a sigh of satisfaction, enjoying the warmth and sense of tranquility offered by the presence of your friend at your side.

“Good night, Shoyo,” you murmured, closing your eyes in the hope that tiredness would finally overcome you.

“Good night,” he replied in an equally low tone.

Silence settled in the room, only interrupted by the soft sound of both of your breathing in time. For a moment, you thought that Hinata had already fallen exhausted, but after a few minutes, the mattress moved slightly as he changed position.

You didn't give it much thought. At least, not until you heard a whisper.

—Hey…

You ignored his voice, convinced that if you didn’t answer, he’d give up and fall asleep.

“Hey,” he insisted, this time giving you a light push on the shoulder.

You groaned in response, not opening your eyes.

“Hinata, sleep.”

“I can’t,” he admitted with a dramatic sigh.

You shifted slightly under the sheets, having no patience for his nightly complaints.

“Then just close your eyes and pretend.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he protested, rolling over on the mattress again.

There was a brief silence, just enough for you to think he’d finally decided to leave you alone. But suddenly you felt a slight tug on the sleeve of your pajamas.

“Hey…”

“Hinata…” you muttered warningly, not bothering to open your eyes.

“I’m hungry.”

You let out an exasperated sigh.

“Then go to the kitchen.”

"But if I go, the floor will creak and I'll wake up my mom. What if she gets angry?"

You rolled your eyes in the darkness.

"That sounds like a problem of yours."

"You're cruel" he said in a melodramatic tone.

Once again, silence returned. For a moment, you thought maybe he had decided to give up. But suddenly you felt something soft touch your cheek.

"Hinata, what the hell are you doing?" you asked, finally opening your eyes.

"Touching your face."

"Why?"

You frowned.

"I don't know. It's soft."

You swatted at his hand.

"Go to sleep."

"I can't."

"Just pretend."

"It doesn't work like that" he repeated with a smile that you could hear in his tone of voice.

You snorted and turned to the other side, facing away from him. But before you could settle back down, you felt his finger touch your shoulder.

—Hey…

"Hinata!" you exclaimed, turning around in frustration.

He let out a stifled laugh.

"I'm just saying, if I can't sleep, neither can you."

"If you keep bothering me, I swear I'll kick you out of bed."

"that would be disrespectful to you host."

“And you disrespect sleep,” you snorted, burying your face in the pillow.

Hinata laughed, satisfied that he had managed to irritate you a little, but after a few minutes, he finally seemed to quiet down. The room fell back into calm, and this time, when you closed your eyes, there were no interruptions.

Or at least, not until you heard one last whisper.

“Hey…”

“Hinata, if you open your mouth again, I swear I'll throw you out of bed.”

“…Nothing, forget it,” he replied in an amused tone before letting himself fall back against the pillow.

The night passed in complete calm, wrapped in the warmth of the sheets and the soft, measured rhythm of both of their breathing. Without realizing it, between sleep and unconsciousness, the space between the two of them was shrinking. Maybe it was the cold of the early morning or the unconscious need for proximity, but at some point in the night, the limits ceased to exist.

Your arm rested on Hinata's torso, while her hand, almost instinctively, had grabbed onto your waist. Her legs intertwined with yours in a carefree manner, and her face, relaxed in deep sleep, rested against your hair.

The first sign of the morning was the faint glow of the sun filtering through the window. Little by little, the orange light of dawn illuminated the room, outlining the figures in the bed with soft golden flashes.

It was the sound of light footsteps in the hallway that finally broke the stillness. A slight creaking announced the opening of the door, followed by a childish whisper.

"Onii-chan…"

The sleepy little voice belonged to Natsu, Hinata's younger sister. Her disheveled hair and vibrantly colored pajamas gave her an even more tender air as she rubbed her eyes with her small fists.

But as she looked up and saw the scene before her, her sleepy expression turned into one of poorly concealed surprise.

“Why are you hugging each other?” she asked with innocent curiosity.

Your brain, still caught in the haze of sleep, took a couple of seconds to process her words. And when you finally understood what she was saying, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

Hinata’s arms were wrapped around your body with alarming ease, and you weren’t in a better position. The warmth of his proximity became apparent, and as soon as he stirred slightly, starting to wake up, everything got worse.

His breathing was the first to change, becoming more aware. Then, the sudden stiffness of his body confirmed that he had also realized the situation.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in confusion before realizing the position they were in. And then, as if someone had flipped a switch, his face exploded into a scarlet hue.

“W-what the hell?!” he exclaimed, jerking away as if he had touched fire.

You rolled to the side, feeling the heat rise to your ears as you scurried away as quickly as possible.

“I… it’s not what it seems!” you tried to say, though you didn’t really have any convincing excuse.

Natsu continued to watch them with an amused expression of suspicion, his small arms crossed over his chest as he drummed his fingers against his elbow.

Taking advantage of the confusion of the moment, you took a breath and pointed at Hinata dramatically.

“It was him! He hugged me first!”

Hinata blinked, stunned, before sitting up suddenly.

“What?!” his voice came out shrill, almost choked with indignation. "That's not true! You were the one who came over while we were sleeping!"

"Lies! You must have turned around in the middle of the night and caught me without me noticing" you insisted, crossing your arms as if your argument was irrefutable.

"That doesn't make sense! Why would I do that?" he replied, bringing his hands to his head, desperate to defend himself.

Natsu watched them with amusement painted on his face.

"So... you two hugged each other all night?"

The silence that followed was deathly.

You and Hinata exchanged a look of horror before looking back at her, simultaneously stammering an unconvincing denial.

"W-we didn't hug!" Hinata protested, his face flushed". And Natsu, get out of my room!

His younger sister pursed her lips in a thoughtful grimace, as if considering whether to obey or continue pestering. After a few seconds of dramatizing her indecision, however, she gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Okay, okay. But I want my pancakes with extra honey,” she reminded him, pointing at him before exiting the room, closing the door with a loud “click.”

Hinata let out a sigh of relief before flopping back onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow.

“God, what a nightmare,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You stood for a moment, hesitating on whether or not to follow suit. The warmth of the sheets was still tempting, and after the morning chaos, the idea of going back to bed didn’t seem so bad.

Finally, you rolled your eyes and slid under the covers once more, settling in next to him.

“You were the one who forced me to stay, so don’t complain,” you commented, giving his arm a small nudge before closing your eyes.

Hinata huffed, but made no attempt to move away.

“Just five more minutes,” he muttered, turning to the side.

You smiled at his quick surrender and, without saying anything else, let the silence and comfort of the bed envelope you once again.

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count:2899

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Tsukishima waited patiently for you outside the gym, his figure slightly hunched as he checked his phone. Inside, you were deep in conversation with Ukai and Sensei Takeda, trying to spin a believable lie to justify your early departure. With any luck, most of the team members were busy and distracted, making it easier for their attention to not be focused on you.

“I just need a moment to organize a few things at home,” you said, forcing a smile that tried to sound natural. Ukai squinted at you in distrust, but eventually nodded.

“Okay, make sure you come early tomorrow,” he replied, returning to his conversation with Takeda.

Hearing his approval, you felt immediate relief. You quickly said goodbye and headed towards the exit, where you found Tsukishima leaning against the wall, his expression impassive, though there was a slight glint of interest in his gaze.

“Everything ready?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, looks like they believed me,” you replied, smiling as you approached. “Now we can go.”

The two of you began walking together towards the exit, neither of you having a definite plan on what to do or where to go. However, Tsukishima was moving forward with remarkable confidence, heading towards the subway station. You hurried a little to keep up with him, trying hard to keep up with the crowds entering and exiting the station.

Noticing you picking up speed to catch up with him, Tsukishima slowed down, allowing you to get closer. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your small figure momentarily get lost in the bustle of people. It was then that he deliberately extended his hand towards you, a gesture that surprised you and made your stomach tingle slightly.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, but when you did, Tsukishima secured his grip, and you felt the warmth of his hand envelop yours. “Your hands are cold,” he commented, picking up his pace as the two of you made your way onto the platform, which was even more crowded with people.

As you moved forward, the crowd grew thicker, and before you knew it, the sound of the approaching train echoed through the air. A group of passengers pushed towards the entrance of the car, and Tsukishima guided you firmly through the crowd.

When you finally entered the car, you realized it was packed. People were packed in, and there weren’t enough seats available. Tsukishima stood next to you, and the forced closeness made your heart beat a little faster. With his hand still intertwined with yours, you found yourself almost glued to him.

The train began to move, and the inertia pushed you a little closer to Tsukishima. You avoided any kind of eye contact with him, praying that the ride would be quick. However, when you finally reached your destination, excitement began to replace anxiety. Tsukishima took you to an aquarium in Nishikigaoka Prefecture. Upon arrival, he asked for two tickets, and the two of you entered the dark halls and corridors, illuminated only by the lights that passed through the glass of the large fish tanks.

The setting was perfect; the gentle murmur of the water and the dim lighting created a calm atmosphere. As you moved forward, you found yourself surrounded by an impressive variety of marine species. Brightly colored fish swam leisurely, and the huge fish tanks were full of life.

“Look at that!” you exclaimed, pointing to an aquarium containing a group of clownfish frolicking among anemones. The sight filled you with joy, and a glint of admiration lit up your eyes.

Tsukishima, however, seemed to be completely focused on you. His gaze remained on your face as you smiled, and a slight smirk played on his lips, as if he enjoyed your enthusiasm more than the fish themselves.

“It’s impressive,” he replied, though his tone showed that his interest was mostly focused on how the light reflected your shocked expression. “But I think you shine more than them,” he added, trying to hide the sincerity behind a sarcastic comment.

You blushed at his statement, feeling heat build up in your cheeks. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” you replied, embarrassed but amused.

Damn, you’d have to agree with Akiteru later; his advice on how to pick up girls was paying off. “Let’s go this way,” you told him, heading towards a more open area, designed for children, where small pools contained corals, urchins, starfish, and other sea creatures that could be touched.

You approached one of the pools, filled with small stingrays. You dipped your hand into the water, feeling the softness and sliminess of their backs, adorned with brown colored patterns. “Uh, that feels weird,” you commented, reaching out a hand to reach another stingray, curious.

“Tsukishima, try it!” you encouraged, turning to look at him. The blond had crouched down beside you, cautiously watching the movement of the rays.

“Come on,” you insisted, pushing him lightly with your knee against his. His expression was a mix of doubt and curiosity, but the way he looked at you seemed to tell you that he was willing to give it a try.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Tsukishima dipped his hand into the water. At first, his posture was tense, as if he was afraid that the rays might do something to him, but as he felt the texture of the animals, his expression began to relax. “It’s not that bad,” he admitted, a small smile breaking out on his face as he watched the rays move.

“See? It’s fun,” you told him, feeling satisfied at seeing him enjoying himself. “Let’s move on to another tank.” You stood up, looking for another one that would catch your attention. Tsukishima watched as your eyes lit up as you moved from one place to another, surprised that you were so excited about it.

“Tsukishima, look, penguins!” you pointed excitedly towards one of the signs that indicated the exhibition area. Without thinking, you ran over there, taking his hand to guide him.

You continued to stop at each of the fish tanks and exhibits, marveling at the variety of marine life until it was time to head home. You walked leisurely through the streets, enjoying the atmosphere that surrounded you.

“Are you excited to go to Tokyo?” your voice broke the silence between you two.

“I guess,” Tsukishima replied with a short answer, glancing at you briefly. “We’ll be playing against several pretty good teams.”

You spoke with more enthusiasm as you mentioned the rival team. “Yeah! I’m really excited to play against them.”

“Why are you so excited to play against Nekoma? We always lose,” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Because they’re really good, and I enjoy playing with Kenma. Which reminds me, Tsukishima, that time you told me Ukai-kun needed me… it was a lie.” The words left your lips, and you noticed how Tsukishima tensed at them, his face beginning to blush in embarrassment.

“If you wanted to play with us so much, you could have just told me,” you added, with a mocking tone.

“I didn’t…” he tried to defend himself, but you interrupted him.

“Be honest with me, Tsukki.”

After a long sigh, seeming to give in to the pressure, he decided not to put up any more resistance. “Well, I admit I was a little jealous that you two…” he muttered, the last part in a low tone, but clear enough for you to hear.

You paused for a moment, surprised by his confession. “Jealous? Of what?” you asked.

“I don’t know, stop asking stupid questions,” he replied, bringing a hand to your hair and ruffling it nervously, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.

You got off the bus with Kiyoko and Yachi, greeting some Nekoma boys who were waiting for them outside the school. You stopped for a moment to observe the metropolitan landscape of the city, quite different from the urban and quiet environment of Miyagi. The tall buildings and the bustle filled you with an exciting feeling of novelty.

“Yamamoto, that's why you don't have a girlfriend ” you said mockingly as you passed by the Nekoma player, who was on his knees in front of the Karasuno managers, trying to get his attention. Your comment caused a small laugh from Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who were walking behind you.

You were excited to see the school gym and watch the practice of the other teams they would be playing that day. However, when a hand pulled hard on the handle of your backpack, you stopped dead. Ukai was holding it firmly, and next to him was Takeda sensei.

“Come on, you’re not getting away with this one,” the dyed blonde said, tugging lightly on the handle.

You whined in annoyance, throwing your head back. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll just be a quick chat with Coach Nekomata,” Takeda chimed in, following you with a determined stride.

“They’re always boring,” you replied, following the two of them through the quiet hallways of the Tokyo school.

You followed the two adults through the facilities until you finally found the Nekoma coach at the end of the hall, who was waiting patiently for them. The meeting was brief, but no less boring. For the most part, you just waited in silence, only responding when spoken to. You knew you couldn’t complain too much; you had chosen to be the assistant and no one had forced you to.

Finally, after a few words exchanged about the teams’ performance and expectations for the match, Takeda and Ukai concluded their conversation. “Thank you for your time, Coach Nekomata,” Takeda said, as they turned to leave.

“See you at the gym,” Ukai added, leading you back down the hall.

As you entered the gym, the bustle of the players intensified as you approached the court. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and you could feel the excitement in the air. In the distance, you saw the Nekoma team warming up, and your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Kenma among them.

“I’m going to say hello to Kenma,” you said, feeling like the opportunity couldn’t be passed up. Ukai nodded, giving you a slight push forward.

You approached the Nekoma group, and Kenma looked up from his console, surprised to see you. “Y/N,” he said, a small smile lighting up his face.

“Kenma! I’m excited to see how you’re doing today,” you replied, feeling the conversation flow naturally. “Ready for the match?”

“That’s right,” he said, shrugging but keeping his smile. “It’s always fun to play against you guys.”

“It is because you always beat us,” you thought internally, keeping a smile on your face. Your eyes rose to the tall figure of the boy with grey hair and green eyes, who was standing behind Kenma. His slanted eyes watched you curiously.

“Ah, this is Lev Haiba,” Kenma said, pointing at the tall boy. “He’s a new recruit to the team. Lev, this is Y/N, Karasuno’s assistant.”

“Hello, it’s a pleasure,” you greeted, noting that this boy was quite tall, even taller than Tsukishima. You didn’t miss some of his mixed features, which gave him a distinctive air.

Lev extended his hand for a friendly handshake, which you gladly responded to. “You’re different, where are you from?” he asked, his large hand wrapping around yours enthusiastically.

“I come from Miyagi,” you explained, feeling Lev’s positive energy contagious. “And you? Your accent is a bit different.”

“I’m half Japanese and half Russian, so my family has a bit of influence from both sides,” Lev replied, smiling widely.

“I understand, I’m surprised at how tall you are, taller than—” you failed to finish your sentence, as you noticed the tall, blonde boy standing behind you, staring with cold eyes at the boy in front of you. “—Tsukishima…” you finished, raising your head to look at him.

Tsukishima watched Lev intently before slightly lowering his head down to look at you. His golden eyes met yours, displaying his usual indifference. “Do you have a moment?” he asked, beginning to walk away towards the court space that had been assigned to the team. You said goodbye to Lev before following him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you reached his side, next to the basket of balls near the net.

“Set it up for me,” he asked, his neutral voice sounding more like an order than a favor. “Can you do it?” he continued, his tone slightly sarcastic as he noticed your confused expression.

“Of course I can,” you replied defensively, frowning as you grabbed a ball and moved a few steps closer to the net.

You prepared to throw it, but when you did, the ball went too low, flying just over the net and landing uncontrollably. Tsukishima tried to hit it, but the impact was a miss. “Really?”

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, acknowledging that that had been pretty bad. It was just the first one, though; the others would be better. “Let me try again.”

You picked up another ball and moved a little further away, this time making sure your throw was higher. However, the ball went so high that Tsukishima had to stretch to catch it, but he failed to do so and let it go by. “Can you do that right?!” he exclaimed, clearly irritated.

“Maybe you should practice your jump, Tsukishima,” you threw back, smiling as you picked up another ball. “It might come in handy if you ever decide to actually play,” you said sarcastically.

“Shut up,” he replied in a scathing tone, before rolling his eyes and preparing to spike again.

“So, do you want me to do it again, or are you going to keep complaining?” you asked, picking up the ball once more, ready to take another shot.

“Just do it right this time,” he replied, crossing his arms with an expression of defiance.

With determination, you threw the ball, making sure it flew at an appropriate height. This time, Tsukishima hit it accurately, sending it to the other side of the court. You smiled excitedly, expecting some sort of recognition for doing well this time, but received nothing but silence from him. His indifference bothered you more than you expected.

You decided to keep throwing for him, but, at times, you did so with an intentional hint of uncontrol, seeking to make him angry. You threw the ball with a little less care, causing Tsukishima to have to move quickly or stretch awkwardly.

Every time he missed, you were satisfied to see the slight frown on his face. In these small interactions, you found it amusing. You knew he was doing it for his own good; after all, getting better was the goal.

However, as you continued, Tsukishima’s lack of acknowledgement began to frustrate you. You tried hard to do a good job, and while his sarcastic comments were part of his personality, you longed for a simple “nice throw” or nod of approval.

Finally, throwing a ball that flew slightly higher than expected, you watched as Tsukishima prepared to spike it. However, the hit was inaccurate, and the ball went the wrong way. Seeing his reaction, a smile spread across your face.

“Well done, Suckyshima,” you commented mockingly, enjoying his obvious frustration. The angry expression on his face only grew. The blonde huffed and walked towards you with a determined stride, his gaze locked on yours.

“You think this is funny?” he questioned, his voice laced with disdain as he came closer, filling the space between you.

As he came closer, a wave of nervousness washed over you. The intensity of his gaze and the closeness of his tall figure made you blush slightly. You tried to formulate a response, but the words caught in your throat.

Tsukishima stopped just a few inches away from you, his golden eyes shining with a mix of irritation and amusement. “Can’t you talk now, Y/N?” he teased, a crooked smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you nervous?”

The sarcastic tone of his voice only made it harder for your mind to focus. “I…” you tried to counter, but the sudden playful brush of his hand against yours stopped you dead in your tracks.

He continued, clearly enjoying how nervous you were. “You seem to be at a loss for words. Does me being this close make you nervous?” He took a step forward, and as he did, you stopped breathing. Your eyes widened in surprise at his proximity, as he raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. “That’s cute,” he added in a tone that oozed confidence.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, unable to bear the tension any longer, turning around and walking quickly towards the technical team. You could feel your face boiling as your heart beat with an intensity that felt abnormal to you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Yachi asked with concern, who saw you pass by him just as you reached out to grab your bottle of water. His kind tone contrasted with the agitation you felt inside. “You’re pretty red, do you have a fever?”

“I-I’m fine,” you stammered nervously, turning your back on him as you tried to cover your flushed face with your hand. You needed a moment to calm down, and the water in the bottle seemed to be the immediate relief you were looking for. You drank quickly, trying to calm yourself down.

“Are you sure you don’t need a break?” Yachi insisted, noticing your nervousness. “I can help you with anything if you need it.”

“I’m really fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing, even though you knew your cheeks were still burning. You distanced yourself from Yachi a little, trying to regain your composure and focus on helping some of the other boys.

[b1xi]

there is an epidemic on jjk tumblr where writers think it’s okay to write jjk men as readers step-dad and make them have a sexual relationship but no it’s okay because “stepcest isnt blood related” ???? this is actually so disgusting both morally and mentally and it doesn’t even matter that the characters are fictional or that the whole thing is fictional it does not make it okay and we need to bring back decorum.