to be loved is to be known
one; you are not meant for me // but the heart wants what it wants
<the collection — to be loved is to be known>
pairing. kageyama x reader
cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, blasphemy, currently married!reader, fluff if you squint (no adultery)
wc.4.2k
featured track. the 6th summer by PLAVE
my heart knew it was you from the moment we met. but you were never mine to begin with.
kageyama tobio is a logical person. his teammates would describe him as a mechanically precise monster who can effectively deconstruct opponent plays and use his insights to counter strategize their own attacks. a highly rationale driven individual, known to be impassive off court.
in his high school years, he has watched his senpais yearn after their manager, even hinata, falling for a classmate in their third year, the relationship ending in tears when they broke it off because hinata was leaving to brazil. he has seen love take precedent and how it always seem to break the hearts of those involved.
but he never understood why someone would put so much of themselves on line to love someone who could choose to walk away at any point in time.
unlike most people’s beliefs, kageyama isn’t heartless, or emotionless, or indifferent to love. after all, he loves volleyball just fine. it’s just—he figures, why love someone, when they always leave you behind, whether voluntarily or otherwise?—why love someone, when he can choose to devote himself to volleyball which will never abandon him?
and then you came into the picture, wholly unaccounted for. a fellow setter, a true rival, and he found himself wanting to fly with you. someone who understands his pivotal role in his team’s offense, the control tower, as he had once said to hinata. someone who obsesses over every little detail as he does.
at first, he had attributed the feeling of recognition to meeting a true rival in you as a fellow setter. that feeling that he had yearned for as a middle schooler watching the senpai he looked up to, oikawa-san, serve and set like a god. the connection he missed due to rivalry, and the connections he severed unknowingly to be the team that stays on the court the longest.
it couldn’t have been love, because if it was, then he would also be in love with hinata like everyone keeps saying. besides, why would he fall for someone who is in a relationship?
it would be immoral to fall for you, he reasons, you are dating kuroo-san.
he quickly learns that despite the warm demeanor you have when it comes to volleyball, you keep everyone at an arm’s length outside of it. he notices the line you draw between your professional career and your personal life, and he is careful to stay on the right side.
he allows you to set the boundaries that you are comfortable with, keeping to the practice meets that became a monthly routine where you exchange your latest updates on your plays and offer pointers on improving, dissecting each other’s games that quickly spilled over into its own afternoon meetups over coffee.
slowly but surely, it turns from a fan and her idolized player into two equals analyzing and plotting improvements for their next game strategies.
of course, kageyama shares the admiration that comes from picking your brain on his weekly calls with hinata.
“i don’t know how i didn’t think of that before oumae-san suggested it—” he stops himself as he catches hinata giving him a look of sympathy, snapping at the older boy, “what?”
“kageyama, do you know how many times i have heard you talk about oumae-san in the past months?”
“huh? why would i be keeping count?” he frowns at him through the screen.
hinata nods in pity, “exactly. i don’t know either because you are constantly saying oumae-san this, oumae-san that.”
kageyama averts his eyes from his friend, feeling the tips of his ears warming under his inspection. “i don’t talk about her that much.” it comes out in an unconvincing mumble.
“you know i would support you no matter what you do, but oumae-san is getting married to kuroo-san soon. i don’t think it’s good for you to keep pining after a soon-to-be married woman.”
he wishes he could snipe the orange haired boy through the screen, only because he is right. he drags a hand over his face in frustration. damn him, he knows that he is falling for you, but he is utterly helpless in stopping himself.
you’re a dreamy sunny day that he wishes to bask in forever. too bad kageyama is the snow storm that sweeps through winter.
kageyama tobio well knows that he is truly hopeless from the moment he realized that he fell for you, the mind behind the name.
he is in love with the way your mind works to find counters against your opponent’s defense and open up a path for your team’s attacks. the way you find just the perfect moment to do a setter dump, catching the other team unaware. the way you dissect and analyze plays calmly during timeouts. the way you listen intently to him when he speaks.
the worst part is that you are not even trying to make him fall for you. you are just being your perfectly normal self, keeping all your interactions at a respectful and professional level—probably more professional than respectful at this point, since you would give him shit for his unforced errors. (actually, he also likes that you keep him accountable, unlike most people who would brush them off as mistakes that happen sometimes.)
that gods-forsaken line between your professional and personal lives now more solid than before as a married woman.
and yet, he had fallen for you without even trying.
he had tried to follow hinata’s advice to move on from you, to quote him directly—“stop putting her on a pedestal. she’s only human, she is bound to have something that irks you.”
he tried, really, to find your faults in your interactions. the tiny crease between your eyebrows as you think hard about the game you are exchanging analysis on, the small pout on your lips as you work through possible counterattacks. your dry reply when he says something dumb, or the excitement in your eyes when recounting a strategy (that you both came up with together) that worked.
it’s not working. in fact, it’s achieving quite the opposite of moving on from you.
he curses hinata shoyo for his shit advice as he watches your practice match against france from the vip section in the stands. something feels off, he thinks, finding that you are not landing evenly on both feet when you set to your spikers.
he realizes a moment too late that you are heavily favoring your left foot over the other just as you land awkwardly on your ankle—your shrill yelp sounding from the court.
kageyama jumps to his feet worriedly, hands gripping the back of the seat in front of him as he peers over to you. he reminds himself that he is just another professional acquaintance of yours, forcing himself to take a seat as your coach and teammates rush over to you.
you don’t play for the rest of the game.
later that night, upon finding no news from any media outlets about the severity of your injury after scouring the internet, he starts typing out a message to you—how are you doing?
no, that won’t do, he shakes his head, deleting the small letters on his phone before typing out another message—is your ankle alright?
he pauses for a few moments, wondering if he would be crossing a boundary to inquire about your wellbeing. i probably shouldn’t, he decides against it for the better, choosing to believe (or hope) that no news is good news.
he erases the message to your number, letting the device fall next to him as he puts his arm over his forehead. fuck, what am i doing?
you have a loving husband to go home to, who will take good care of you. there’s no place for someone as removed as him to be worrying after you.
after all, gods are meant to be worshiped from a distance, and you would fit right in next to the ones who torment him so.
to his dismay, his delusions of relief only lasted a few days.
kageyama tobio knows something is wrong the moment he finds the court empty on the third friday of the month. the court that you live and breathe on. the court that he always finds you practicing your serves while waiting for him.
his heart catches in his throat as he rings your number, holding his breath as he desperately hopes that you are okay.
you pick up on the seventh ring. “kageyama-san? ah, sorry. i forgot to tell you that i won’t be able to make it to practice today.”
“it’s fine, kuroo-san. i was at your match on sunday. are you doing alright?” you both stubbornly stick to using formalities when addressing each other—kuroo-san to remind himself that you are so far beyond his reach that he can just forget about it. (he doesn’t.)
“oh, that? i’m fine,” kageyama breathes out a sigh of relief from hearing your words. relief that comes too soon, as it is quickly followed by your strangled yelp coming from the other end.
“that didn’t sound like you are fine.” he realizes you must be saying that just to keep him from worrying, any rational thought flying out of his mind.
he had seen kuroo-san, your husband in passing at work just this morning, but if you’re injured, and still stubbornly moving around, or worse, even keeping it from your own husband—“send me your address, i’ll be over soon.”
kageyama ends up having to call in the team physician to look at your horribly swollen ankle, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep himself in line. the tips of his fingers twitch every so often when you wince at her touch as she inspects your ankle.
he tells himself that you are so, so strictly off limits.
though, he makes the mistake of asking about kuroo-san, your husband. he wishes that the words never left his lips as his eyes catch the microexpression that betrays your emotions. you quickly brushes off his question with a joke, as if you have had plenty of practice.
he barely keeps that haze of anger in check as he calls your husband after excusing himself for the night and wishing you a speedy recovery, not allowing himself to ponder on the ‘what could have been’s—of how he would never put work above you, especially if you’re hurt.
he politely explains your situation to your husband, and yet kuroo has the audacity to sound offended at his request to spend more time taking care of you in your condition as an outsider.
“she’s my wife, i know how to take care of her.”
then act like it. kageyama bites back the retort, knowing that it wouldn’t help matters—that it might actually add to your burden instead of easing it.
he bristles when kuroo tells him that he has to go finish up some work before he could leave, mystified as to why kuroo would ever put work above you.
kageyama pockets his phone and lets his arm hang lax by his side, shaking his head at himself. it’s not his place to worry over you, much less tell kuroo how to be a husband.
the gods have judged him, and deemed him unworthy of you.
kageyama tobio knows your serve routine by heart. a tuck of your hair over your left ear, then your right, followed by a swish of your ponytail to confirm that it is holding securely. fingers smoothing over the hem of your jersey. your left hand outstretched with the ball in front of you, you would lick over your top lip, teeth catching your bottom lip before you launch the ball upwards and forwards, body coiling into a spring that shoots the ball out across the net.
he knows the extra time you take to warm up your right wrist due to a prior injury. the overly bubbly personality that you hide behind when you are upset or disappointed. the modest smile that is dazzling (he swears that you really do sparkle when you smile like that), not because you’re pulling your charm out, but because you are not.
your unpretentious smile that comes from the heart still guts him each time becoming less common, to his disappointment. and gods, does he try to coax that smile from you when he sees you, would give you the entire universe with all the planets and stars in it if he could, just to see the unfiltered crooked smile from you. the one you claim to hate because it reveals the singular dimple on your cheek.
he also knows that you love flowers, deduced from the bouquet of peonies on your lockscreen and the different floral arrangements that you post to your social media each week. and your order at the coffee shop that you get without fail—latte with lavender and honey instead of simple syrup.
he knows all the details he picked up from his observations in the time he has known you, details that he absolutely adore, while being hyper cognizant of the line drawn between you.
he knows, lives at the edge of that boundary drawn by you, enforced by him. his iron grip on his own actions to hold the line, keeping his desires as they are—a daydream of a world where the gods favored him.
kageyama knows this all too well.
and because of that, he knows something is not right when your contact lights up his phone screen with an incoming call on a friday night.
your number is saved under kuroo y/n, a reminder of where he stands in your life. he addresses you as kuroo-san, another constant reminder to stand firm on his side of the line.
he hesitates, but his index finger swipes across the screen, accepting your call before his logical side could stop it.
your voice crackles across the line before he could get a word in. “you finally picked up!”
he could just picture the pout on your face (that also appears during practices when you mess up), but it was the childish whimsy that accompanies your slurred words that dusts his cheeks in pink—the intimacy in your tone that he suspects is not meant for his ears.
“i miss you,” you admit softly, sadly, in a tone that makes his heart clench in pain. as much as he would like to give you comfort, anything you ask him for, really, he knows he’s not the one you’re really looking for.
“yuki, give that back!” you complain, sounding further away from your phone. another female voice comes into the call, “no, is that kuroo tetsuro? that asshole!”
kageyama thinks he should say something to clear up the situation, but the words die in his throat—what could he say, really?
“wait, what? kageyama?” the other female mumbles to herself, and kageyama assumes that whoever that yuki is returns the phone to you as your sweet voice calls out to him again.
“are you done with work yet? you’ve been so busy again lately…” you trail off, “do you think we will go see the cherry blossoms outside of tokyo next year? you promised we would this year, but something came up with your work.”
he really doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about your marriage, but he would be lying if your words don’t make him upset on your behalf. it makes his blood boil to even think about his senpai prioritizing work over his wife. from what he witnessed when you were injured, and now this—you begging for his time, it is exceeding hard to believe otherwise.
why would he choose work over you? he tries not to read too much into the situation, but—if that asshole is really making you live on scraps of his love, why are you still with him?
oh right, because you love kuroo tetsuro.
if kageyama was in his shoes, he would never make you ask him for his time. in fact, he would make sure you feel like the most loved person in the entire world. what do you even see in him—
he shakes himself out of his intrusive thoughts, wondering instead if he made the right decision to give kuroo a push back then; if he just contributed to dragging out your situation rather than helping. he reminds himself that you had looked happier in the following weeks, until now.
he opens his mouth to say something, but your friend beats him to it. “say, you should come pick y/n up! it’s pretty late and she’s so plastered.”
finally, he stumbles to his words. “kuroo-san, i don’t think—”
he isn’t sure if you hear him over the loud music in the background and your friend’s insistence for him to come pick you up. “i’ll send the address to you, please come get her before she drinks herself to death.”
he wonders if she knows.
it isn’t long before he pulls up at the address you sent him, parking at a street lot that opened up as he drove by, lucky him. kageyama feels out of place among the partygoers in the club, dressed in sweats and an oversized hoodie over his plain t-shirt.
he wonders if you would be disappointed to see him instead of your husband. your good for nothing husband who is apparently still at work on a friday night.
kageyama tells himself he shouldn’t feel as crestfallen as he does at that thought. just as he shouldn’t feel the skip in his heartbeat when his eyes land on you, or the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss the top of your head.
or the protective instinct that kicks in as he gets closer, sensing the exhaustion in your demeanor, wishing to shield you against everything that the world throws at you.
he really, really shouldn’t feel the relief that floods his veins at the gratitude in your eyes—not disappointment, he notes—and the gentle smile that graces your lips at his approach. that smile that he loves so much, knocking the breath out of him, reflecting on his own features that are normally set in a disinterested scowl.
gods, is there anything he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face?
“tobio, you came.” his name leaving your lips for the first time, as you fling yourself into his arms with such familiarity that he has never seen from you. it takes every inch of his willpower to not crumble to the floor before you, beg you to let him love and worship you for the goddess you are.
it takes every shred of his resolve to keep the words from overflowing past that cursed line. to keep his features neutral, intercept the storm ripping through his winter from touching your pleasant spring.
so he holds on to you awkwardly, savoring the rare moment of affection, mumbling into your hair, “you called.”
“mmm, we’re celebrating my birthday! do you want a drink?” he releases you first, letting his arms fall to his sides. you tug him towards the bar before another woman stops you, disapproval set in the lines of her face.
“i let you out of my sight to go to the bathroom for a few minutes, and you’re already making a beeline to the bar.” this must be the yuki on the phone then. her eyes flicker behind you to kageyama. “this is kageyama?”
“kageyama tobio, nice to meet you.” he manages a stiff nod.
“tsuda yuki. thanks for coming on a short notice, i appreciate it. she really doesn’t want to leave, and kuroo isn’t picking up.” yuki keeps a firm grip on you, tugging you in the opposite direction—to the exit, narrowing her eyes when you pout at her.
you seem to have mellowed out since kageyama arrived, the sadness behind your eyes just a tad lighter if the strobing lights weren’t playing tricks on her. oh, whatever works, works. it’s almost two in the morning, and she thanks the gods that you are finally willing to go.
yuki exchanges a few words with kageyama before they come to a mutual decision to have him drop you home since he has a car and she has to call a cab in the opposite direction of where you live.
“be good for kageyama, please?” she basically begs you to be on your best behavior as her cab shows up. you’re clinging onto her like your life depends on it.
“we’ll be fine, tsuda-san.” kageyama tries to assure her, but she shoots him a look of disbelief.
“you don’t know her like i do. she is… really out of hand when she has alcohol in her system. the last time she was this drunk, she tried to—” the cab honks at her to hurry up. “are you sure you got this?”
“yeah, i’ll have her call you when i drop her off.”
tsuda-san is right. kageyama comes to that conclusion after spending 15 minutes trying to get you into the passenger seat and checking that you put your seatbelt on.
he breathes a sigh of relief, focusing on the road ahead as you finally settle down, preoccupied with the buildings and bright lights that pass by in a blur. strangely enough he finds that he didn’t mind it one bit, having his hands full with taking care of a drunk you. he actually found this wild, unchecked side of you endearing.
he gently shakes you awake once he parks the car. it seems like most of the alcoholic effects have worn off during the drive as you lean onto him for support in the elevator, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes.
your apartment is dark, devoid of life as you enter, kicking your shoes off in the entryway, mumbling a tadaima, mostly to yourself. kageyama would have missed it if he was not following closely behind you, making sure you don’t trip and fall over.
his heart aches at the thought of you coming home to an empty apartment, your tadaima announcing that you’re home unmet with its other okaeri half from your husband to welcome you back.
“make yourself at home, tobio,” you curl up on the couch, putting on a travel vlog on the tv on a low volume before dialing yuki’s number, letting her know you’re home safely.
“hey, why don’t you change into more comfortable clothes? let me get you some painkillers. where is the medicine cabinet?” he nudges your shoulder. you lean back against the headrest, pouting at him again. if only you knew the effect you have on him.
“i’m lazyyy.”
kageyama attempts to reason with you. “c’mon, you can go to bed right after too.”
“too tired to move.” you cross your arms at him.
“kuroo-san…” he sighs.
“why do you always call me that? my name is y/n, you know.”
“y/n, would you please change into pajamas?”
“nope.”
“what can i do to change your mind?”
your grin splits your face from ear to ear. “you could carry me to the room.”
“what—” he rubs the spot between his eyebrows. “okay, fine.”
kageyama scoops you into his arms effortlessly, and can't help but notice how the shape of you fits perfectly against him. your eyelashes flutter close as you rest your head against his shoulder, inhaling deeply and exhaling the spooled stiffness in your frame.
the fullness in his heart lasts less than a minute. he catches himself staring at you when you meet his gaze, fingers smoothing against his brow as your feet touch the floor. “you’re going to get wrinkles before your time, tobio.”
he scurries back to the living room, leaving it at that. his cheeks are colored again, his back against the shut door of your bedroom, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.
“stop it.” he mutters, more so at himself than anything, looking through the cabinets in the kitchen for some painkillers, and filling two tall glasses of water for you. he knocks on your door after a few minutes, easing the door open carefully when you tell him he’s clear to enter.
he hands you the pills in one hand, water glass in the other. “drink up.”
kageyama notices the melancholy in your eyes resurfacing as you lean back against your pillow on your side, hand outstretched towards the empty half of the queen-sized bed, but he wisely chooses to leave it be.
you squeeze your eyes shut, turning on your side away from him. “good night, tobio. thanks for coming.”
“of course.” anything for you. kageyama tucks you under the blanket, fingers smoothing over the duvet, itching to run them through your hair. he curls his hand into a fist and shoves it in his pocket before his body betrays him.
“happy belated birthday, kuroo-san.” he whispers into the darkness, leaving the full glass of water by your bed, and quietly closes the door behind him. he turns off all the lights in your apartment and washes up the other glass, fighting the strong urge to check on you when he hears a muffled whimper coming from your bedroom.
you probably don’t want him to see you like that.
he forces his feet out the front door. and a smile onto his face the next day when he sees you with puffy eyes and no memories of the night before.
he really, really wishes he met you first.
kageyama tobio curses the gods that put him on this trajectory.
taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @hiraethwrote @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity (open! askbox for taglist)
a/n. the pining, the heartache, the devotion; kageyama you will be loved </3 y'all i love him so MUCH i actually don't have the words to describe it... tobio brainrot all day every day <33 please expect slow updates!
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(perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)
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