〃contains: kageyama tobio x reader, kageyama falls first, you're being sneaky where u think no one will see, kiyoko is your bestfriend
you don’t actually remember the exact moment kageyama started liking you.
because you didn’t start going near the gym because of kageyama.
if anything, he’s just an accidental side effect.
it starts because of kiyoko.
she’s been your best friend long before volleyball ever claimed her time— long before her afternoons were swallowed up by practice schedules, equipment lists, and managing a team full of loud, exhausting boys who somehow required constant supervision. you've been friends since middle school although she was 2 grades above you.
at first you’d wait for her after school like usual, leaning against lockers or sitting on the courtyard benches while she finished up.
but managing the volleyball club turns out to be a lot more time-consuming than either of you expected.
practice runs late. meetings run later.
some days she barely has time to text you updates between tasks.
instead of waiting after practice, you start dropping by before it.
the gym is quiet then, almost peaceful in a way it never is once the team arrives. the doors are usually unlocked, lights half on, the echo of your footsteps bouncing softly across the polished floor as you step inside.
usually kiyoko is already there, organizing equipment or checking inventory lists.
she always looks relieved to see you, her expression softening in that subtle way that only you notice.
you talk while she works, leaning against the bleachers, scrolling your phone, handing her things when she asks. the conversations are easy, domestic, built on years of familiarity.
you stop by, keep her company.
leave before practice starts so you’re not in the way.
you’ve never had much interest in volleyball itself— but you like being part of her world in small ways.
it makes the distance her responsibilities created feel smaller.
one afternoon, though, she’s not there yet.
you arrive earlier than usual, the gym lights still off, doors closed.
she replies a minute later.
Kiyoko:
running late. meeting w teacher.
10 mins.
but the walkway outside the gym is quiet, and you’re thirsty, so you wander down to the vending machines instead— the ones tucked against the wall near the entrance, humming softly under fluorescent lights.
standing in front of the vending machines outside the gym, still half asleep, scrolling through your phone while you waited for your drink to drop; you were so focused on your screen you didn’t notice him walk up beside you.
kageyama had only come for one thing.
he always bought milk after before and after practice. same brand. same machine. same time.
his routine was safe. predictable. volleyball-adjacent.
then, you pressed the button for the exact same drink he was about to buy.
you didn’t notice— not until both cartons dropped at the same time and you both bent down to grab them, knocking your hands together.
he forgot how to breathe.
because yeah, he’d seen you around school — everyone had — but this was the first time you were this close, this real, looking directly at him.
and he might’ve had the smallest, slightest, tiniest crush on you.
not that he’d ever admit that out loud.
it had started way before this moment, actually— built out of secondhand awareness rather than interaction.
he’d heard your name long before he ever spoke to you.
usually from tanaka and nishinoya, who spoke about you with the same reverence they used for kiyoko— which, to them, was the highest honor possible.
they’d mention you in passing during practice breaks, voices loud enough that everyone could hear.
“KIYOKO-SAN'S BESTFRIEND CAME BY EARLIER. I CAN SMELL HER PERFUME IN THE AIR.”
“WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO LEAVE BEFORE WE ARRIVE.”
“she brought us drinks once, remember? my angel.”
“it's already hot enough when kiyoko ignores us but (y/n) ignoring us too?? i might pee myself..”
half the team had absorbed your existence through those conversations alone.
kageyama had listened to those conversations silently, never joining in but filing the information away.
comes by the gym sometimes.
untouchable, in the way girls like you always seemed to be from his perspective— existing just slightly outside his reach.
so he’d only ever observed you from a distance before this.
passing glimpses in hallways.
your voice drifting faintly through the gym when you visited kiyoko before practice.
never close enough to interact.
never close enough to matter.
“oh,” you said, blinking. “good taste.”
he stared at you like you’d just spoken fluent ancient greek.
that was the entire conversation.
you walked away sipping your milk like nothing life-altering had happened. on the other hand, kageyama stood there holding his carton like it contained his future.
after that, the coincidences started. or… they felt like coincidences to you.
to him, they felt like divine intervention.
every few days you’d run into each other at the vending machines again. same drink. same time.
sometimes you’d talk— casual, easy, like it was normal to chat with him.
you never treated him like he was intense or intimidating.
you just treated him like a guy.
and for kageyama, who’d spent most of middle school being avoided like a thunderstorm, that alone was enough to fry his brain.
and he started looking forward to those five-minute conversations more than practice cooldowns.
which was saying something.
and getting close to him doesn’t happen all at once.
it isn’t dramatic or obvious or anything you could point to and say that’s when it changed. it’s quieter than that, built out of repetition and familiarity, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention.
you start lingering in the gym after school under the excuse of 'waiting for kiyoko'. you sit on the highest seats of the bleachers, back against the cool wall, notebook open in your lap even when you’re really just on your phone. the sounds of practice echoes throughout the gym— sneakers squeaking, volleyballs smacking against hands, voices echoing sharp and loud.
you watch without making it obvious.
kageyama doesn’t notice at first.
he’s too focused, too locked in, but eventually he starts noticing patterns the way he always does— not consciously, just instinctively. when practice ends and he’s toweling off sweat, his eyes flick toward the benches without him meaning to.
sometimes you glance up and meet his gaze. sometimes you don’t, other times, you're not there. either way, the sight of you settles something in his chest, like a routine he didn’t know he needed.
when everyone finally packs up, he finds himself slowing down without realizing it. waiting. hovering. pretending he forgot something in the gym so he can exit at the same time as you.
he doesn’t question it— just knows that the walk out of the building feels strangely incomplete if you’re not there beside the doors, slinging your bag over your shoulder while you scroll through your phone.
so the first time he steps outside and realizes you’re already gone, it throws him off more than it should.
he notices it again the next day.
you still come by before practice sometimes— he sees you near the gym doors talking to kiyoko, leaning casually against the bleachers— but you’re not waiting afterward anymore.
at first he assumes you're just leaving early.
but one evening, when coach ukai gave them a little break between their practice, and he spots you near the entrance instead of the benches, already adjusting your bag like you’re about to head out, he pauses. (fortunately the other boys were distracted with some new cool technique noya has to notice kageyama slipping away to talk to you.)
“…you’re leaving already?”
you glance back at him, unsurprised.
“yeah. kiyoko’s busy tonight. and my house is the opposite direction anyway, so waiting doesn’t really make sense.”
he nods slowly, but something about the answer doesn’t fully explain it. because he remembers how often you used to wait. how late you’d stay.
so he asks before he can stop himself.
“…then why did you wait before?”
you shift your bag higher on your shoulder, thinking for a second before answering— not guarded, just casual, like it’s normal. “when i walk with kiyoko, i don’t actually go home right away.”
“i usually just go to her house. have dinner there.” you shrug lightly. “it’s kinda like my second house at this point. she always makes extra food anyway, and i hate cooking for myself.”
there’s a pause before you add, quieter but still matter-of-fact—
“i live alone, so… it’s nicer eating with people.”
“…your parents?” he asks.
“abroad,” you answer. “i’m finishing high school here.”
you say it easily, like it’s just another fact about you— not lonely, not dramatic, just practical.
but he files it away carefully, the way he does with everything important.
suddenly, all those evenings you waited make sense in a different way.
you walk a few steps ahead before turning back slightly, breaking the quiet.
“but yeah. since kiyoko’s been busy with school stuff, and you guys, i stopped waiting every day. walking the wrong way just to eat dinner isn’t super efficient.”
you gesture with your hands, drawing an imaginary road in the air.
“my house is past the convenience store. then the long hill.”
because that’s his route too.
the realization clicks into place— all the near run-ins, the vending machine meetings, the familiar street corners.
“…i go that way,” he says.
you tilt your head, surprised for half a second before smiling faintly.
“oh. guess we can walk together next time then.”
like it doesn’t mean anything.
but when next time comes, and you fall into step beside each other, the quiet that settles between you isn’t awkward— it’s warm, familiar, like it’s been building toward this without either of you realizing.
and from that day on, the routine shifts again.
you don’t go to kiyoko's house often anymore. (yes, she knows about whatever situation going on between you and kageyama.)
instead, you walk home with him— past the convenience store lights, up the long hill, through the soft evening quiet.
your conversations drift from school complaints to random observations to comfortable silence. he listens more than he talks, but when he does speak, it’s earnest and unfiltered, like he’s not capable of pretending to be cooler than he is.
you like how he doesn’t try to impress you. except he lowkey does, but he's so bad at it that you don't even notice.
how he doesn’t posture or exaggerate or perform the way some boys do when they talk to you.
with kageyama, everything is straightforward— sometimes blunt to the point of accidental rudeness, but never fake.
it makes being around him feel easy. predictable in the best way.
and somewhere along those walks, the vending machine stops becoming just a hallway stop and turns into something closer to ritual.
the day it happens doesn’t feel different at first.
practice ends. you meet him outside the gym like usual, after everyone's packed up and left.
your conversations drift the way they always do— school complaints, hinata being a dummy, the usual.
nothing dramatic, until you reach the vending machines.
you stop automatically, already digging coins out of your bag.
the machines hum softly, fluorescent lights reflecting faintly off the polished floor tiles and you press your usual button.
both cartons drop at the same time with a dull mechanical thud.
you both bend down to grab them— and your hands brush again, just like the first time you met.
it makes you pause this time.
not startled. just aware.
you straighten slowly, drink in hand, leaning your shoulder lightly against the machine beside him.
he’s still focused on opening his carton, movements precise but slightly stiffer than usual.
you watch him for a second.
then, casually, like you’re commenting on the weather—
you take a sip first, buying yourself half a second of silence, then lower the carton.
“do you wanna go out with me?”
the question lands quietly in the humming space, but the effect is catastrophic.
his hand tightens too hard around the carton.
milk spills across the floor in a pale splash that spreads toward your shoes. he doesn’t even notice.
he’s staring at you like his brain just lost power.
you tilt your head slightly, completely calm.
“date me,” you repeat. “you like me, right?”
heat floods his face instantly, color rising from collar to ears so fast it almost looks painful.
his mouth opens then closes.
he looks down at the spilled milk like it might contain answers.
“…how do you know that?” he manages finally, voice rough.
you shrug, pushing off the vending machine so you’re standing a little closer now.
that does him in completely.
he exhales hard through his nose, eyes darting anywhere but your face.
there’s no dramatic speech in him. no practiced confession.
just honesty, raw and unpolished the way everything about him is.
“…okay.” it’s quiet, but certain.
you smile— slow and satisfied, nudging his shoulder lightly with yours. “is that any way to accept a girl's confession?” you tease.
you take another sip of your drink, watching him try to explain how you caught him off guard. it was cute.
“i'm playin' with ya, calm down. you’re my boyfriend now.”
he nods automatically, like he’s agreeing to terms he hasn’t fully processed yet.
but the warmth spreading through his chest is undeniable.
standing there in the vending machine glow, milk still pooled on the floor, your presence steady beside him, it feels surreal in the calmest way possible.
like the routine he’d grown used to walking through had just shifted again.
dating kageyama doesn’t feel dramatic at first.
there’s no grand announcement, no visible change, no moment where the world suddenly realizes something has happened between you.
if anything, the shift is so quiet it almost feels like it exists only in the space between you.
but the secrecy isn’t your idea.
not because he’s embarrassed— you know that much from the way he looks at you when you’re alone— but because he knows his team too well.
you’ve seen enough to understand.
tanaka would cry.
nishinoya would cry louder. or maybe they'd cry equally as loud.
tsukishima would be on his ass.
and hinata…
hinata would ask approximately eight million questions per hour.
so the relationship settles into hidden spaces instead.
staircases no one uses, quiet hallways before practice, vending machine corners just out of sight of the gym doors.
you never walk into the gym together.
never leave side by side when others are around.
if you talk near the team, it’s casual— friendly, but nothing that lingers long enough to spark suspicion.
you’re good at that kind of social navigation.
so you handle most of the stealth.
it becomes almost funny how successful you are.
you’ll be leaning against the wall beside him one minute, talking quietly while he drinks his milk— then the second you hear tanaka and noya's voice echoing down the hall, you step away like magnets repelling.
by the time the team rounds the corner, you’re already scrolling your phone like you were never close to begin with.
kageyama stands there stiffly, trying to look normal while tanaka launches into whatever loud story he was mid-sentence about.
you hide your smile behind your drink.
somehow, weeks pass without anyone figuring it out.
not anyone, not even hinata, despite how closely he orbits kageyama’s personal space.
and there’s something strangely thrilling about it— the secrecy, the hidden glances, the knowledge that this version of him exists only for you.
the closest you ever get to being caught is small things.
a split-second pause when your hands brush and don’t separate fast enough.
the way his gaze lingers a fraction too long when you walk away.
the way you instinctively look for him in a crowded hallway.
nothing concrete. nothing provable.
so the team remains blissfully unaware. completely, impressively fooled.
and kageyama, who thought keeping a relationship private would be impossible with teammates like his, starts to relax into the illusion that maybe— just maybe—
you two can keep this secret a little longer.
so that's why the staircase becomes your favorite place.
it’s tucked far enough from the classrooms that no one passes unless they’re lost or deliberately avoiding crowds— concrete steps dimly lit, the air cooler, quieter.
you find him there during breaks between classes some days, waiting halfway up the landing like he always does, hands in his pockets, posture stiff until he sees it’s you walking up the steps.
today is one of those days.
you lean back against the wall, watching him with a faint smile. “you’re getting bold, tobio. asking me to secret staircases now?”
“you came,” he points out.
he steps closer, close enough that the space between you disappears naturally— no hesitation anymore, no awkward recalculation.
his hand finds your wrist first this time, thumb resting lightly against your pulse like he’s grounding himself.
“…you’re less jumpy lately,” you murmur.
he exhales quietly, gaze softer than it ever is around anyone else.
“wha— i was never jumpy..”
“yeah, yeah." you snort. "embrace it. confidence looks good on you.”
he almost rolls his eyes— but the faint pink at his ears gives him away.
the quiet wraps around you both, heavy but comfortable, broken only by the low hum of the flickering stairwell light.
it feels removed from the rest of the world.
like no one could possibly interrupt this space even if they tried.
you reach up, tugging lightly at the collar of uniform, pulling him just a fraction closer.
his hand tightens slightly around your wrist in response.
and for a moment, the world narrows down to proximity— shared breath, steady silence, the quiet awareness of each other.
you lean closer, minty breath against his parted lips, until—
rapid footsteps echo, coming up closer and closer.
hinata rounds the corner at full speed, probably looking for a lost volleyball, and he freezes. like, cartoon skid-stop, eyes going saucer-wide.
hinata sees: tall, scowling kageyama looming over kiyoko's pretty bestfriend, pinning her to the wall, faces inches apart. from hinata's point of view? it looks aggressive as hell. no context, no "oh that's just how they flirt" memo. just "oh shit, kageyama's finally snapped and is harassing a girl" panic.
kageyama releases your wrist instantly, eyes widening.
hinata’s gaze snaps to you.
wide. protective. panicked.
he takes one step back and doesn't even process. he yelps— actual high-pitched yelp— "KAGEYAMA WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" then bolts like his ass is on fire.
he full sprints to the other guys' classes, like nationals depends on it. "GUYS! GUYS! EMERGENCY! KAGEYAMA'S CORNERING (Y/N) IN THE STAIRS! HE'S BEING WEIRD! WE GOTTA SAVE HER!"
you turn back to kageyama and he looks like his soul just left his body.
you press your lips together.
try to stay composed.
fail instantly as laughter starts spilling out of you, echoing loudly in the empty staircase.
kageyama drags a hand down his face in despair.
you’re still laughing when you hear it. footsteps. multiple this time.
fast. heavy. uncoordinated.
voices echoing faintly down the hallway outside the stairwell door— overlapping, urgent, loud enough that you and kageyama both freeze mid-breath.
he straightens immediately, posture snapping back into rigid alarm.
you wipe at your eyes, still smiling despite the incoming disaster.
you don’t have to wonder long because daichi steps in first.
his presence alone fills the stairwell— broad shoulders, captain aura overwhelming with an expression so serious in the way that means he’s already prepared for the worst.
sugawara is right behind him, eyes scanning quickly, concern written plainly across his face.
and finally hinata, pointing dramatically past them like he’s leading a raid.
the entire stairwell goes silent.
every set of eyes lands on you and kageyama.
you’re standing a normal distance apart now— but the tension in the air is still thick enough to feel.
daichi assesses the scene in one sweep.
kageyama's embarrassed, not aggressive.
he already knows this is not what hinata thought it was.
you can see the exact moment the disappointment settles into daichi's bones.
sugawara knows too— his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh at the absurdity.
but tanaka and nishinoya?
they are operating on pure protective instinct.
tanaka steps forward immediately, sleeves already half rolled like he’s about to square up.
his voice drops into that low, dangerous register he reserves for “honor defense” situations. he's not even yelling, that's how you know it's serious serious.
nishinoya is already beside you, planting himself like a human shield, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
“don’t worry, my sweet angel. we got you.”
you bite your lip so hard it almost hurts because the urge to laugh is climbing your throat again.
hinata rushes to your side, face tight with concern. “are you okay?! did he do anything?!”
you blink at him, still trying to process how this escalated so fast.
kageyama, meanwhile, looks like he wants the staircase to collapse and swallow him whole. “i didn’t do anything!” he snaps, mortified. “we were just talking!”
“in a dark staircase?” tanaka fires back.
“holding her wrist?!” hinata says, voice climbing.
kageyama chokes. “i wasn’t— that’s not—”
daichi pinches the bridge of his nose, already exhausted. while sugawara turns slightly away so no one sees him laughing.
you could end this instantly in one sentence.
but where’s the fun in that?
you straighten slightly, folding your hands behind your back, expression calm— sweet even. “he was asking about class notes,” you say smoothly.
sugawara coughs into his hand.
hinata frowns. “then why was he grabbing you?”
you glance down at your wrist like you forgot it existed. “…i owed him money.”
kageyama makes a strangled noise beside you.
tanaka’s eyes widen in outrage. “HE'S COLLECTING DEBTS NOW?!”
nishinoya looks ready to square up harder. “THAT'S LOW EVEN FOR YOU, KAGEYAMA!”
you elbow him lightly before he can finish. "i was kidding. he was just asking me to lend him notes from class."
daichi sighs so deeply it echoes.
it takes several painful minutes of explanation, clarification, and hinata apologizing to you at least three separate times before the rescue squad finally starts to stand down.
but of course, noya, tanaka, and hinata grabs kageyama by the shoulders, shaking him violently.
“HOW DID YOU EVEN PULL HER?! YOU’RE ALWAYS GRUMPY AND BOSSY AND YOU'RE ALWAYS SCOWLING!”
“WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?!”
“YOU YELL AT ME FOR EXHALING WRONG!”
“BECAUSE YOU DO IT WRONG!”
“YOU DON'T EVEN TEXT PROPERLY!”
then tanaka staggers backward, clutching his chest.
nishinoya grabs his arm for support, equally shaken.
kageyama stares at them, bewildered.
“I DON'T KNOW!” tanaka cries.
nishinoya’s eyes start watering.
“you can’t just secretly get close to (y/n)… without telling us…”
“…we would’ve supported you.”
that’s when the tears start.
full grown second-year tears.
tanaka wipes his face angrily, but it makes it worse. hinata looks between them, horrified but also emotional by proximity.
kageyama looks like he wants to evaporate.
tanaka points at him accusingly through tears.
“because YOU pulled someone way out of your league without even consulting us!”
“i didn’t ‘pull’ anyone—”
nishinoya wipes his eyes dramatically. “first kiyoko-san was already unattainable…” he sniffles.
“and now her best friend too?!” tanaka wails. "WHAT DOES HE HAVE THAT WE DON'T?!"
eventually, daichi claps his hands loudly, cutting through the chaos and herds them all back down the staircase, muttering something about “practice discipline” and “false alarms.”
hinata's convinced kageyama's secretly the devil who cast a spell on you. and tanaka starts a conspiracy theory that kageyama must have saved your life in a past one or something because "no way natural selection lets THIS happen."
and sugawara gives you a knowing smile as he passes.
“so that’s what’s been going on.”
you just smile innocently.
“we were doing so well.” kageyama sighs into his hand.
“confidence got you caught, babe.”
your perfectly maintained secret relationship timer officially runs out.
im rewatchng hq rn and brooo i cant get enough of this guy i swear hes such a cutie patootie ughhhh
i tried to make the kiyoko thing make as much sense as possible LMAO but i lost the plot
