This is something really personal to me, and I hope to connect with a few more of you, so this fanfiction is a bit unique something different from all the usual kenma comforts I've written. For the next blogs i'm still uncertain how it would go, but, I want to try.
Kenma skips a few work meetings to come home early.
The cursor had a strange sort of beat to it, it felt like it was moving with thoughts of it's own, it passed through a wall before forming into a text of it's own, though according to the editorial rule you had to wait for atleast two weeks before you start editing your work, or so you've heard.
You reached for the packet of biscuits laying around ideally, another simple cross marked on your notes app, it glared at you, you simply ignored it tucking a strands of hair behind your ear as you resumed work.
How did it feel? Perhaps you could ponder that it felt like a spike, a spike of dopamine, before it smoothened out like jade, utterly unremarkable after a while. This was the particular biscuit you were most fond of, something Kenma always stocked up on, but these days it felt like a cold wind always passing by.
You checked the messages for the day,
My Hp...is dropping, two more events can I skip?
You let out a soft breath of laughter. It felt like a lifeline, it was so simple your husband being himself, even after being at the other end of the world he's still mapping out the least crowded places to get to work, and where he can get an apple pie that tasted like home.
Don't forget to collect the postcards
You could almost hear the huff from the other end of the line, as three dotted lines appeared before they said,
Open up, i'm here.
Your eyes widened his flight was three days from now..unless he skipped all the networking events, that sounds like kenma he would've surely done that,
You did it...
Kenma replied with a,
It was loud, your apple pie is better anyway...
Once the door was pushed, the furrow in his eyebrows like he was calculating the most optimal path for some quiet streaming time, or a game night softened to a slow dropping of his shoulders, his eyes were half lidded, his golden eyes that were always calculating the probability of the stock market dropping to an unfavourable situation, or an investment going wrong looked vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.
"Your finally here...the amount of work I've saved up on my files to do for later..." You said with a self depreciating laugh before tugging him closer,
He only let out a tired jet-lagged hum, as he pressed his forehead to your teal cardigan, the fabric a subtle contrast of detergent mingling with his coffee, and warm cinnamon of apple pie.
"Kuroo is going to be so mad.."
"I can only imagine, kitten."
Kenma's cheek flushed, a telltale sign of pink dusting his ears, "Don't call me that..." though to an observer who looked close enough the way he leaned in to inhaled a fresh breath of detergent knows his protest was feeble.
The weeks of work that you had to get through, somewhere along these days, Kenma's presence was like a vending machine hum, the comparison was eccentric, but it was always a constant hum, promising refreshment in a way?
It was no surprise kenma skipped those two events, not even bothering with a rational excuse.
He was home, with his favorite person, the blankets were warm, miso was lounging on the throw blankets, and dinner was pipping hot, when you washed his back that day the soap bubbles lazily pushed off draining out, he was perfectly content.
Haikiyuu||Kenma Kozume X Reader||Insights into Your relationship
It's Just soft love, affection and hundreds of the smallest moments.
He's so grumpy here, it's adorable.
Just imagine waking up to the soft sunrise that filters through your blinds, kissing your face in the morning. You reach for your side table for the recently bookmarked chapter in the book you were reading. The words are captivating; they anchor you before the day begins. You have obligations to fulfil. Things you're anxious about, maybe that late-submitted assignment you had stayed up so late over to complete.
Kenma sends Good morning messages in his own way it's always there as if to say he is looking out for you, sometimes he sends you a pixel he had been working over or a soft mood board he saw on Pintrest, and thought about you sometimes kenma would relate you to the few things every day when he walked he now stopped often by the Tabby cat who was the picture of an entitled prince, kenma stopped by to pat him, or take a picture of it to make you smile.
Sitting side by side next to Kenma in the middle of classroom lectures means you meet with his soft, drowsy, striking golden brown eyes that looked barely awake, his hair tousled. His hoodie hid most of his face. He would softly hum in contentment. If you pushed some of his hair away, he would gently lean into your touch, almost imperceptible to someone else.
Knowing Kenma well enough meant you picked up on the slightest of his gestures, maybe he looked more tired in a particular class, or he stayed up too late gaming again, and gently placed the pocky sticks to light up his day.
The afternoon naps felt like the rare soft indulgence that was too good for you to turn down, the pillows would be piled in an effortless grace, warm blankets to keep the winter at bay. You would nuzzle to his neck inhaling the soft scent of apples and something very distinctively like Kenma the soft breaths he took or how he shifted to pull you closer to him so he could inhale the scent of your shampoo he looked like a kitten who had found the warmest patch of sunlight he never wanted to leave.
In a world full of noise, you were his safe space he could keep comming back to you again and again to share a snack, to bring a blanket so you could watch him game for you he would play a RPG with beautiful visuals almost like a mystic game where the theme revolved around French Bakeries, parchment papers with letters and lanterns casting romantic glows in the dark sky. The storyline almost felt melancholic, but there was a subtle lingering feeling in it that kept pulling you back to the game.
That was like Kenma, too; he was quite barely spoken, but the way he sought your presence after his practice, waiting for the apple pies you would cook for him, or holding his hand, it was what Kenma truly cherished.
Somewhere, along the lines, you read books and letters, but you fell in love with a gamer boy who nuzzles to the crook of your neck, mumbles intelligible words, and grounds you with how much attention he pays to your needs.
Being with someone like Kenma Kozume is like relaxing on a couch filled with throw blankets and opening a book you intend to read cover to cover, soak in every syllable, and savour the flow consumed in a soft, gentle breeze, comforting in its presence and utterly yours.
