a walk
kiyoko shimizu x m!reader
in which shimizu walks beside you once and the entire universe (and two feral gremlins) immediately collapses.
this was a request by a friend from tiktok on halloween, i just forgot 😔 sorry boy
you never thought a simple walk could feel like the world was balancing on the edge of a volleyball net, but here you were—ambling down the hallway beside kiyoko shimizu, who somehow made fluorescent school lighting look like a luxury photoshoot backdrop. not that you’d ever say that out loud. your brain would combust, turn into dust, float away, and she’d probably try to pick up the dust and tuck it safely into her pocket because she’s like that.
the path to the gym is quiet, calm, but there’s a buzzing energy around her—something soft, warm, almost shy. kiyoko keeps adjusting her glasses even though they’re sitting perfectly on her face, fingers brushing the frame like she’s reminding herself they exist. or maybe she’s reminding herself you’re here. walking next to her. breathing the same air. sharing the same gravitational pull that keeps tugging her closer, step by step.
she’s composed, as she always is, but her heartbeat is an earthquake in a teacup, slamming against her ribs like it wants to scream at you. every time your shoulder brushes hers, her fingers twitch as though she’s resisting the urge to hold onto your sleeve and never let go.
“so… thanks for walking with me,” she murmurs, voice gentle in the way sunsets are—warm but a little sad, like she’s trying not to hope too loudly.
you smile. “you asked, didn’t you?”
she flushes just a little, the color blooming like someone gently tapped watercolor along her cheekbones. “i… did.”
you don’t see it, but she’s been replaying that moment for hours—how she’d approached you, the way her voice almost tripped over itself, how she nearly fumbled her clipboard because her fingers were trembling at the idea of being close to you. she’d spent ten minutes convincing herself she didn’t look too eager. she failed miserably.
“it’s nice,” you add. “walking with you.”
something happens to her then—her steps falter, barely, but enough that her breath catches. her eyelashes flutter. her hand grazes the edge of your jacket like a moth brushing light.
and then the peace ends.
because an unholy screech echoes from the gym entrance.
“KIYOKOOOOOOOOOOOOO—”
the yell hits like a meteor, cracking through the hallway, rattling the windows, probably scaring every crow within a three-mile radius.
you blink. “what in the—”
“WE’VE LOST HER—NOOOO—NOT TO A DECENT MAN—WITH SHOULDERS—WITH AN AURA—WITH A SMILE THAT COULD HEAL A NATION—”
tanaka is sprinting in circles like a man whose entire personality just dissolved into stardust. nishinoya is wheezing, clutching his chest, looking like someone stole his soul and replaced it with a tax bill.
kiyoko sighs softly—and then, in the faintest, deadliest voice, “tanaka. noya.”
both freeze mid-run like prey animals spotting a predator. tanaka’s leg remains lifted in the air. nishinoya stops with his mouth wide open mid-scream.
she takes a single step forward.
not angry.
not irritated.
just… protective.
of you.
and somehow that’s more terrifying than if she punched a hole through the wall.
“we were just walking,” she says sweetly. the kind of sweet that makes flowers grow and grown men kneel in fear.
“JUST—WALKING??” tanaka shrieks. “with a man who has functioning social skills?? and a symmetrical face?? and hair that looks like he uses conditioner??”
nishinoya slams his hands to the floor. “why god why have you cursed us with competition—”
“guys,” you say, trying not to laugh, “we literally walked ten feet.”
“ten feet too many!” nishinoya howls.
“it’s okay,” kiyoko murmurs, turning back to you with such softness that tanaka actually collapses like a puppet whose strings got cut. “let’s just go in.”
she steps closer—not by accident, not because the hallway narrows, but because she wants to—and her shoulder presses warm against yours. it’s brief, but she lingers for a heartbeat too long. and you swear the air thickens between you.
she pushes open the gym doors and gestures for you to go first, but the way she watches you… it’s tender. protective. like she’s memorizing the shape of your back, the slope of your shoulders, the sound of your laugh earlier. like she’d guard those details with her life.
tanaka whispers to nishinoya, “she looked at him like he hung the sun.”
nishinoya whispers back, “bro… i think they’re in love.”
kiyoko doesn’t turn around, but her ears go red.
inside the gym, the team is already practicing—and everyone pauses mid-motion. kageyama stops tossing the ball. hinata stumbles. daichi’s jaw drops like he just witnessed a crime scene. sugawara places one gentle hand over his chest like he’s watching the climax of a romance drama.
“you two came together?” asahi asks, blinking.
before you can answer, kageyama mutters, “this feels illegal.”
sugawara beams. “i knew it! i told daichi! i said kiyoko’s been smiling more—”
kiyoko nearly explodes, calmly, of course. “suga.”
“what?” he asks innocently. “smiling is good.”
you glance at her—and she’s staring at you with this bright, shy, melting expression like she can’t believe you’re real. like she’d walk an entire galaxy with you if you asked.
you’re about to say something, maybe a joke, maybe something too honest, but she beats you to it.
“i’ll walk with you again,” she says softly. “whenever you want.”
her voice doesn’t waver.
her fingers curl like she’s holding an invisible promise.
and when you smile at her—really smile at her—her breath actually stutters, her heart ricocheting so hard she thinks everyone in the gym can hear it.
tanaka and nishinoya scream again, but this time it’s heartbreak mixed with awe.
and kiyoko, beautiful, composed, terrifyingly devoted kiyoko…
looks at you like you’re the first person she’s ever chosen entirely on her own.
and she’d choose you again.
every single time.
n: i can’t believe i forgot to put her on my taglist. you can edit your responses on my taglist if you’d like! 😛
shimizu’s taglist
@kkkkkyatory [perm tags] @forgottensniper @michexoxo @katzline @fiannee
© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners !
iloveu
