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xoqox · 20 days ago

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・┆✦ʚ ꜱʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ(-)ᴡᴀʏ ɞ✦ ┆・

𖹭.ᐟ Chapter 09 ── missed this

𓍼cw: light cursing, unresolved feelings 𓍼cw: 2.1k

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The little bell above the door jingles as Atsumu pushes it open, holding it just long enough for you to slip through first.

“Yer welcome, by the way,” he says, kicking the door shut behind him.

“For what? Kidnapping me?” you deadpan, adjusting the paper bag in your arms.

“Gracin' ya with a free ride and my company.”

You roll your eyes and step further inside. “Right, totally not about feeding your pastry addiction.”

“Hey.” He jabs a finger toward you. “I was doin' ya a favor. Ya were sittin' at that bakery bored outta your mind.”

“I was enjoying myself, actually.”

“Sure ya were.”

It's quieter than you remember. No lunch rush, no chatter, only the low sizzle from the grill and the faint buzz of the radio murmuring something old and slow. It looks the same as last time, but it doesn't stop your stomach from twisting anyway.

Your eyes skim the space out of habit, the new seasonal menu taped by the register, a cracked soy sauce bottle someone hasn't thrown out yet, a basket of misprinted loyalty cards with Osamu's handwriting smudged.

“'Bout time,” Osamu calls from behind the counter, voice lazy, automatic. “Did ya—”

Then he lifts his head.

The sentence cuts clean in half. His hands still mid-reach toward the rice bowl, fingers curling around nothing. His eyes meet yours like muscle memory — like it happens before he even realizes he's doing it.

No dropped dishes, no sharp inhale. Just the quiet stiffening of his shoulders. His eyes land on you, a flicker of surprise quickly smoothed over, but not fast enough that you missed it.

“... Didn't know you were comin',” he says, slower now and a touch quieter.

“Yeah.” You adjust the bag in your hands. “Kinda last-minute...”

“My idea,” Atsumu pipes up cheerfully, completely ignoring the undercurrent thick enough to drown in.

Osamu's hands don't stop folding, but his mutter slips anyway. “Lucky me.”

The way silence settles right after is weird. Not hostile or cold, just tight. Like, there's too much unsaid packed into too small a space.

Osamu sets a towel down with more force than necessary, flattening it neatly like it matters. He shifts to the back, opening a drawer, pulling it closed again, like he forgot what he was looking for.

“Was about ta take my break anyway,” he mutters, not quite looking at you. His fingers sweep over the edge of the counter once, twice, thumb pressing into a faint scratch on the wood before he steps toward the table.

“Perfect,” Atsumu says, shamelessly sliding onto one of the stools. “Feed us.”

Osamu ignores him, eyes still on you. “You eat yet?” His voice is softer this time.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Good.” His reply is automatic, but something about it lands heavier than it should. He jerks his chin toward one of the corner tables. “Sit.”

Atsumu's already halfway there, dragging a chair with a loud scrape. “Ya better be makin’ that miso pork thing, Samu.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Osamu waves him off, steps toward the kitchen, but not before glancing at you one more time, like he's about to say something else, but doesn't.

You slide into a chair, fingers tightening around the handles of the paper bag like it's an anchor. Atsumu leans back, arms crossed behind his head, grinning like none of this is heavy, like none of it means anything.

Osamu's voice drifts from the kitchen, a quick word to the part-timer working the register. Something about covering the counter while he's on break. A moment later, the kitchen door swings open, and he steps out, balancing a tray in one hand. He sets it down onto the table with practiced ease.

He settles into his chair, resting one arm lazily along the backrest like it's nothing, like this is just any other lunch, though the weight in his gaze says otherwise.

The plate he slid in front of you smells way too good for how tight your chest feels. You try focusing on the food, but the hum in your ribs doesn't settle.

“Dunno how ya make it taste this good every time,” Atsumu groans, mouth already half full. “Swear, nothin' in Tokyo even comes close.”

Osamu lets out a soft huff, not a laugh, but close, eyes dipping to his plate as he picks up his chopsticks. “Yeah, yeah. Ya say that every time.”

A silence falls upon your table, the only sounds being the clinking of chopsticks, someone ordering at the counter, and the faint hum of the radio.

Then, as if it hasn't been weeks since you last spoke to each other, Osamu casually glances your way. “Been keepin' busy?”

You nod, tucking a piece of pickled daikon between your chopsticks. “Yeah, I guess...”

“College good?”

“Busy,” you answer, lips tugging upward.

He hums, a quiet, thoughtful sound, while chewing slowly. His gaze lingers a second longer than it probably should, but it doesn't feel heavy. Just present, watching.

“Was just expectin' this idiot,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now as he nods toward Atsumu.

“Oi.” Atsumu kicks his ankle under the table but doesn't even bother looking up from his onigiri. “Rude.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I didn't plan on it. He bribed me.” You gesture at the paper bag sitting by the chair. “Melon pan tax.”

“Worth it,” Atsumu adds without hesitation.

Osamu's lips twitch, barely there, but it's real. “Guess so.”

For a long moment, it's comfortable, familiar, and easy in a way that almost tricks you into forgetting how complicated it really is.

Plates slowly becoming empty, giggles and bad jokes flying around, the two brothers bickering a few times already. And suddenly, you're in high school again, hanging out with the people closest to you.

Most of them, that is.

Osamu leans back slightly, chopsticks resting against his bowl, fingers tapping once against the table. He looks like he's calculating something he's not saying out loud.

His gaze flicks to you again. “How's... everything else?” he asks, careful. Casual on the surface, but there's a question tucked inside it that he doesn't say.

“Yeah, so… college is kinda kicking my ass right now,” you say, setting your chopsticks down and brushing your hands together. “They're sending me to Shizuoka for two weeks next week.”

The words slip out easily, like it's just another piece of conversation.

Atsumu's head jerks up halfway through chewing. “Huh? Shizuoka?”

“Yeah.” You reach for your tea, fingers curling around the cup. “It's for some internship thing. Sorta... part of the program. They assign you to different places for a bit of fieldwork.”

Osamu's fingers pause against his cup, but his gaze stays steady on you. “Didn't know they sent people that far out.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You shrug, leaning back a little in your chair. “But apparently the Shizuoka office needed someone, and my name got pulled.”

“Huh.” Atsumu wipes his mouth with a napkin, then tosses it onto his plate. “So they're makin' ya travel for it? Damn, that sucks.”

You tip your head, half agreeing. “Could be worse. At least they're covering the hotel.”

Osamu finally picks up his tea, thumb circling the rim as he lifts it. “Where're they puttin' ya?”

“Some business hotel near the office. One of those tiny ones with a sad desk and a sadder window.”

Atsumu snorts. “Hope the AC works.”

“Yeah, me too.” You grin. “If not, I'm coming back early.”

The corner of Osamu's mouth tips, not quite a smile, but something like it. “Hotel breakfast's gonna be the same sad roll and coffee every morning.”

“God.” You laugh, leaning forward against your arm. “I didn't even think about that. Thanks for jinxing it.”

Atsumu clicks his tongue, tipping his chair back a little. “Suna's out there, ain't he?”

It's not a loaded question, more like tossed out, like stating the weather.

Osamu's eyes don't move. He doesn't look at Atsumu. Doesn't look at you either. But his knee bounces under the table, then stills.

“Yeah,” you say, matching Atsumu's easy tone. “He is.”

Atsumu leans back further, rocking his chair just enough to earn a sharp glance from Osamu, the kind that says, "Break that chair and yer payin' for it." “Guess you've got someone to bug while you're there,” he says, grinning. “Bet he knows all the best spots.”

You huff a small laugh, nudging your chopsticks into the empty space on your plate. “Yeah, I guess. If he's around.”

“Dunno if Rin's the best person to ask for recommendations,” Osamu says dryly. “Unless ya wanna know where all the convenience stores are.”

Atsumu laughs. “Yeah, true.” He stretches his arms over his head with a sigh. “Guess ya won't starve, at least.”

You snort. “Great. That's reassuring.”

The conversation drifts for a second, folding back into comfortable silence, the kind where plates are empty, tea cups half-drained, the buzz of the shop fills the background.

Atsumu pushes his chair back with a scrape, glancing down at his phone. “Shit. Gimme a sec, gotta take this.”

Osamu doesn't even look up. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Don't eat my last onigiri,” Atsumu tosses over his shoulder as he walks off.

“No promises,” Osamu deadpans, but the words are softer than they should be.

And then he's gone.

The space feels different without him. Quieter, closer, like the table's a little too small all of a sudden.

Osamu hums under his breath. He nudges the edge of his teacup in slow circles against the table, round and round, ceramic dragging softly against wood. His eyes follow it, not you.

“Didn't think...” He clears his throat. “...didn't think I'd see ya today.”

Your lips curl into a smile, small, unsure. “Yeah... Neither did i...”

His thumb presses against a chip in the cup's glaze, as if pressing hard enough could smooth it back whole. “It's... been a while.”

You nod, eyes dropping to the table. “It has...” It comes out softer than you expect.

Another pause. A little longer this time.

His fingers trace the curve of the cup, slowly. “Ya look good,” he says, quiet, almost offhand, like he hadn't really meant to let it slip out loud.

You blink, startled. Your breath catches for half a second before you manage a soft, “Thanks...” Your fingers curl lightly against your knee under the table. “So do you.”

Osamu shifts, gaze dipping, the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well... Tryin'.”

There’s a comfort in the silence after, something that sits there, full of everything neither of you has figured out how to say yet.

You risk glancing over. “How... How've you been?” The words come lightly, but something about them lingers, hangs in the air just a little too long.

Osamu hums, low in his chest. “Work's good. Shop keeps me busy.”

“That's good,” you say quietly. “Seems like it's doing well.”

“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “Yeah... It's been good.”

He glances toward the counter for a second, an easy excuse not to look at you, then shifts back, resting his forearm on the table, fingers absently toying with a chopstick. “Nothin' really changes. Feels like it's just... days passin', y'know?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice smaller than you mean for it to be. “I know.”

The quiet after isn't filled — neither of you rushes to patch it with small talk or safe words. It just is.

Osamu's gaze lingers on you for a moment longer. “Been thinkin'...” he says, thumb dragging slowly over the wood grain, “it's kinda funny, isn't it?”

You tilt your head. “What is?”

“Just... how people can be around each other for years... and then not.” His thumb taps once, slowly. “And then... be here again. Like nothin'... or maybe everything.”

Your breath catches. Your hands fidget under the table, fingers curling in your lap. “It is, when you put it like that...” you whisper. “But... That's life, I guess...”

His gaze lifts, meets yours for a second too long, like neither of you is quite ready to look away. Something shifts in his jaw, like he's about to swallow the words. But then, softly, he lets them slip anyway.

“Missed this...” he says quietly, like he's not sure if he should've said it at all. “sittin' like this... with ya.”

Your breath snags. For a moment, it feels like maybe someone might actually say something that matters. Something bigger. Something heavier.

“Man, what a pain in the ass.”

Atsumu groans, dropping back into his chair. His eyes flick between the two of you, brow quirking like he caught the tail end of something, but thinks better of asking. “What'd I miss?”

Osamu leans back, lifting his tea. “Nothin'.”

“Figures.” Atsumu shrugs, wiping his hands on a napkin before tossing it onto his plate. “Anyway. I'm stuffed! Feels illegal how good this always is.”

“Ain't illegal if ya pay,” Osamu deadpans, sliding his chair back as he stacks the empty plates.

Atsumu stretches until his back pops. “Told ya it was a good idea draggin' ya here.”

You scoff under your breath, but it's softer now. “Yeah, maybe...”

“I'll pack somethin' for ya,” Osamu says, already heading toward the kitchen, dishes balanced in one hand.

“You don't have to—”

“Ain't askin’,” he throws back over his shoulder.

The kitchen door swings shut behind him, but the warmth lingers.

likes & (<) reblogs are very much appreciated ♡

TAGLIST!! @itz-phantomz @sorrynotsorrh @reidsworld @nishinoyaismycutie @princessbrittnicole @softtashoney @lovley212 @captain-shittykawa @angelsleepinggurl @wakashudou @hiqhkey @riiceandsoup @spooky-cupid @asxprse @sugacor3

#haikyuu smau #osamu smau #suna smau #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #suna x you #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x y/n #osamu x you #suna x y/n #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

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xoqox · 21 days ago

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Hii could I be added to the she got away taglist?! I love ur writing sm omg

thank you so much, this means a lot 🥹

sure thing!

#(ve)e mail ♡#taglist

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xoqox · 22 days ago

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Bartender!Diluc who pretends he didn't notice you walking in, but his hand falters just slightly when he hears your voice behind him.

Bartender!Diluc who always seems busy, but the moment you sit down, somehow, there's nothing more urgent than standing behind the bar where you are.

Bartender!Diluc who tells himself he's just being professional when he remembers exactly how you like your drink, down to the tiniest detail you only ever mentioned once.

Bartender!Diluc who isn't a man of many words, but always notices when you're quiet, always asks, “Long day?” in that low, careful voice that feels gentler than anything else in the room.

Bartender!Diluc who wipes the same spot on the counter three times while trying to think of something, anything to say to keep you there a little longer.

Bartender!Diluc who makes you a drink that's not on the menu and says, “I thought you might like this,” like it's nothing, but watches you take the first sip like the outcome might determine the rest of his life.

Bartender!Diluc who always leans in just slightly when you speak, even when there's no noise to compete with, like he doesn't want to miss a single word.

Bartender!Diluc who catches someone looking at you the wrong way from across the bar and, without saying anything sets a heavy bottle down, just loud enough to remind them he's watching.

Bartender!Diluc who turns his head quickly the moment you catch him watching you, only to end up polishing a glass that absolutely doesn't need polishing.

Bartender!Diluc who always makes sure your spot at the bar is clean, the candle is lit and there's never an empty seat too close to yours unless you want it.

Bartender!Diluc who stiffens when someone flirts with you at the bar. He doesn't say anything, but his movements get sharper, quieter, colder. The entire mood shifts without a word.

Bartender!Diluc who spends way too long reorganizing the top shelf bottles after you leave, just to distract himself from the fact that the seat you were in feels empty now.

Bartender!Diluc who tells himself he doesn't care when you don't show up one evening. Moments later, he catches himself wiping the same clean glass, staring at the door.

Bartender!Diluc who always watches you leave, always. The moment the door closes, there's a moment where his shoulders fall just slightly, as if something walked out with you.

#genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc headcanons

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xoqox · 25 days ago

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・┆✦ʚ ꜱʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ(-)ᴡᴀʏ ɞ✦ ┆・

𖹭.ᐟ Chapter 08 ── girl lunch

𓍼cw: anxiety implications, cursing

masterlist || prev chapter || next chapter

a/n: sorry for the late update, i've been dealing with some health issues this month, but i'm doing better now! hopefully i'll get back on posting more regularly

likes & (<) reblogs are very much appreciated ♡

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xoqox · 29 days ago

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was dealing with some health issues, sorry for the wait, I'll try to post the next chapter soon!

#v thinks #either tomorrow or Sunday

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xoqox · 1 month ago

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2:05 ──★ ˙ kinich ̟ !!

Hands twitching, sweat forming on his forehead, his breathing uneven, inhaling deeply and exhaling fast.

Kinich's eyes snap wide open, his body rapidly moving to sit up in bed. His hand clutches his shirt, right above his fast-beating heart, while he tries to catch his breath.

He can't remember the last time he saw a nightmare in his sleep.

Let alone one starring his father of all people.

One would think that after experiencing war, hunting saurians for a living, or even taking dangerous commissions for the right price, the last thing poking his subconscious would be the distant memory of his father.

“Baby?”

Kinich blinks as he slowly turns his gaze to his side, his eyes instantly falling onto your sleepy face.

“What's wrong?”

“It's... nothing...” He sighs, still sitting up, and turns to face ahead again. “Don't worry about it; go back to sleep.”

Although he could be a great liar under different circumstances, you frown, eyes searching his face, unconvinced by the shaky tone.

“Bad dream?”

A sudden wave of warmth washes all over him the moment he feels your soft hand caressing his back ever so gently. God, it's almost scary how even the simplest touch by you can have such an effect on him.

Feeling his mouth suddenly too dry, he nods slowly in response, his back still facing you.

“Wanna talk about it?”

This time, he shakes his head.

“Come here then.”

Puzzled by your words, Kinich turns around towards you, and his eyes soften instantly at the sight of you; your eyes are still half-lidded, fighting back sleep for his sake, a soft smile curling on your lips, and your hands spread open, inviting him into your embrace.

And like a little kid, Kinich lets himself lean closer to you, letting you wrap your arms protectively around his form.

His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and he breathes you in like he's been underwater for too long.

You smell like sleep.

Like safety.

Like home.

Your arms wrap around him slowly, deliberately. No sudden movements, no pressure, just warmth. Steady and quiet.

The kind of quiet he had never known growing up.

His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, knuckles brushing your spine. He says nothing, but his body speaks louder—how he presses in closer, how his chest trembles ever so slightly with every exhale.

You let him stay there. Let him take as long as he needs.

Kinich is already in your arms, but the distance between you still feels wide, like the dream hasn't quite let him go yet.

So you give him more to hold.

Your fingers slip beneath his, untangling the tight curl of his grip, threading yours through until they settle together, palm to palm.

He exhales slowly. Still too sharp at the end.

Your other hand finds the curve of his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheekbone in a silent rhythm. Not pushing. Not prying. Just saying, "I'm here." Again. And again.

“Still with me?” You murmur softly.

A beat. Then the faintest nod.

His voice comes next, rough and barely audible. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

You press your lips to his forehead. “I don't mind.”

His eyes close at the contact. He shifts in closer, like your touch pulled something loose in him, something tight and knotted now finally allowed to fall apart.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely louder than a breath. “He was there.”

You don't ask who. You already know.

Your thumb grazes his spine in slow circles. “And now he's not.”

A pause. You feel him swallow.

“You're here,” he says next, almost like he's reminding himself.

Your heart cracks open just a little more.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I'm here.”

His hand finds your waist. Gentle. Anchoring. He doesn't pull you closer; you're already as close as you can be. He holds on like he's afraid you might vanish too.

“You're safe. I've got you, I'm not going anywhere.”

That's all he needed.

No fixing. No unraveling. Just someone to stay.

Just you to stay.

Eventually, his breath evens out. His body softens against yours. And though sleep takes its time finding him again, it comes quieter this time. Easier.

Because this time, he's not waking up alone.

#first timestamp fic #i'm about to fall asleep sorry if this is messy #kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich x y/n #kinich fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you

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xoqox · 1 month ago

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⊹ ࣪ ˖☾ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋᴘᴏɪɴᴛ

𖹭.ᐟ cw: gender netural reader, post-timeskip, establisted relationship, domestic settings, slice of life, comfort, bad sleeping habits mentioned, i just love writing about hair playing ᰔ 𖹭.ᐟ wc: 1.2k

The flickering glow of the TV fills the dim room, faintly humming like a memory. It's not the best display; the colors are slightly washed, and the edges are fuzzy, but that's exactly what he likes about it. Familiar. A little flawed. Nostalgic in a way that makes him feel sixteen again, his heart a little steadier than usual.

Kenma sits cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the bed frame. The carpet presses shallow patterns into his legs, but he doesn't seem to mind. Silence has ruled the past half hour, broken only by the flicker of pixels and the soft rustle of fabric when he moves. His eyes stay locked on the screen, thumbs tapping out a rhythm only someone like him could keep pace with—focused, but not obsessed. Not tonight.

You're perched on the edge of the bed behind him, your legs on either side of his shoulders, loosely caging him in. One of your feet gently nudges his hip every now and then, just to remind him you're there. Not that he needs the reminder.

Your fingers thread lazily through his hair, brushing out the tangles near the ends. His roots have grown out quite a bit, dark against the gold ends, soft with sleep and sweat. You twist a strand absently, watching it fall back into place.

It's quiet, but not silent. Kenma never really exists in silence.

There's the soft, mechanical music from the game, the occasional 8-bit chime, and the click of the controller. Outside, you hear the distant buzz of the city at night. Inside, the world feels shrunken to just this room. Just you, him, and an old console that still works, as if it remembers how much he loved it.

You lean forward slightly and rest your chin on the crown of his head. Shifting minutely, he leans a little closer, like gravity’s tugging him your way, acknowledging you but not wanting to pause the game just yet.

"Good?" you murmur.

“Mm,” he hums back, a sound from deep in his throat. “Game's a little laggy. But yeah.”

You smile against his hair. Your fingers dip to scratch gently at the base of his neck, near his scalp. You feel him melt under your touch, shoulders relaxing like he's been holding tension without realizing it.

He's not streaming tonight. No ring lights, no overlay chats, no pressure to talk or perform or explain the game's mechanics for the hundredth time. Just him and the game, for no other reason than the fact that he wants to play it.

And you, of course.

“You haven't played this one in a while,” you murmur.

“Had a dream about it last night,” Kenma murmurs, still focused. “Wanted to see if the muscle memory’s still there.”

“Is it?”

He shrugs. “Mostly. Hands are slower now. Still beat the first boss, though.”

“Proud of you.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Thanks.”

He's quieter than most people would be in a moment like this, but you've been with him long enough to hear what doesn't get said. The way he presses slightly into your touch. The way he relaxes when you're close, like your presence lets him exist at a lower, more breathable frequency.

You watch him navigate pixelated ruins, slashing through monsters that used to scare him when he first played it when he was younger. There's something weirdly tender about it. The way he knows exactly where the hidden passage is, how his fingers still move like they remember every secret.

“I used to wake up super early to play this,” he says quietly, like he's letting you in on a secret. “My parents wouldn't let me stay up late.”

“Figures.”

“You would've hated me back then,” he adds, glancing up briefly to catch your reaction.

You lift a brow. “Why?”

Kenma shrugs. “Didn't talk to anyone. Barely slept. Only cared about games.”

“I'm pretty sure you still only care about games.”

He huffs a laugh, soft and small. “Not true.”

You wait; you never push. It's how you learned to speak his language: quiet trust, subtle cues, the way he always circles back when he's ready.

The screen flashes red as his avatar dies. He exhales, unsurprised.

“I care about you,” he says, like it costs him something and gives him something at the same time.

A quiet grin tugs at your mouth, slow and warm. He's still not looking at you, but that's okay. He says stuff like this the way he does everything else: softly, sideways, when he's sure you won't make a big deal of it.

Your fingers slip from his hair to trail down the back of his neck, gentle, grounding. “I care about you too.”

“Obviously.”

You nudge his shoulder with your knee. “Okay, Mr. Know-It-All.”

The game starts again, his avatar respawning at a checkpoint. You fall into the same rhythm—him playing, you touching, breathing the same air like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Kenma used to think comfort was just a lack of discomfort.

A neutral state. He didn't get people who craved touch, craved noise, or craved more. But now, he doesn't need you to fill the silence. He just likes it better when you're in it with him.

The level shifts to a darker one.

You recognize it vaguely; it's the one he used to rage-quit on when you first started dating. You remember him sitting on the edge of his old bed, hair a little shorter, cheeks rounder, eyes tired from too many back-to-back matches. You'd offer snacks, and he'd grumble a thanks without looking away from the screen. It's not that different from now, except now you live together, and the silence is warm instead of awkward.

His hand drops briefly from the controller, and he tilts his head back, resting the side of his face against your thigh.

You blink down at him. “Break time?”

“Saving,” he mumbles. “Give me a sec.”

You keep brushing his hair with your fingers, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. He's letting it grow, and you hope he doesn't cut it anytime soon.

“Wanna stay like this a while?” you ask softly.

He nods, and your heart stutters. He's not one for long declarations or planning ahead, but when he settles more comfortably between your legs, like you're his safe spot, his anchor, you feel it.

You feel all the versions of him that came before this. The tired teenager, the anxious college kid, the rising streamer. And now, the man who still plays the same game just because it makes him feel like himself.

You press a kiss to the top of his head. He lets out a low sound, close to a purr, content.

After saving the game and setting the controller down, he lets his head fall fully into your lap, one arm draping loosely over your knee.

“You gonna fall asleep here?” You whisper, amused. The TV still flickers in the corner, half-forgotten, humming like a lullaby.

Kenma shifts again, settling deeper into your lap like it's the safest place in the world. “Probably,” he says, already sounding like he's halfway there.

There's no way not to smile at that, letting your fingers trail through his hair one last time before just resting them there, warm and steady.

And for once, there's nothing left to say.

dividers by @cafekitsune ♡ ♡

#kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma fluff #kenma kozume #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu x you

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