Kenma X Reader Fluff - Blog Posts

The Red String of Somethingness (Kenma x Reader/Soulmate AU) *Request*

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You’ve been waiting for your soulmate your whole life. Preparing to go into high school, you’re excited for more opportunities to find your destined partner. But… then you find him. And his girlfriend. 

Part 1

A/N: askdfh thank you so much for the kind words🥺 I’m so glad you guys liked that fic, I wasn’t really confident in it. As per requests, here’s a second part to The Red String of Nothingness with a happy ending. I’m sorry it took a lil while to get out :( but uhh I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 2909

        You couldn’t help it.

       “YN, grab the water bottles please!”

       Even though it hurt, some part of you just wanted-- no, needed to see him. Just being in class with him wasn’t enough. 

       “On it!”

       No matter how many times you called it an extracurricular activity, you knew deep down it was so much more than that. It bordered on creepy just how much you watched him during practice. But… it made life more bearable. 

       While, yes, Kenma’s girlfriend would occasionally come and watch practices, most of the time you could pretend she didn’t exist. It was just you and him when she wasn’t around, and you hated how much that thought pleased you. 

       “Thanks.” The blond setter spared you a small smile as he accepted the bottle, gulping down the drink with the thirst of a man stranded in the desert. Practice had gone for about an hour and a half now, and gave purpose to the sweat droplets trailing down his forehead. It took a tremendous amount of effort to even drag your gaze away from his flushed face. 

       You couldn’t help it. As much as you wanted to ignore it, you were falling hard. Kenma was… perfect. He handed out smiles sparingly, making you feel blessed whenever you were on the receiving end. Every move he made was carefully calculated, and you loved the look of curiosity and intrigue that would occasionally flicker when something fell out of place. In volleyball, in school, in life, he was simply all-around breathtaking. You hung on every sparse word that fell from his lips because God, he was just beautiful. 

       Often you wondered if he thought the same about you. 

       Yes, yes, you knew he had a girlfriend. That simple fact kept you awake at night, biting back tears and hugging a pillow to your chest. But during the day, you never let it show. Because, well, it simply felt good to see him. Being around your soulmate, together or not, made the pain just the tiniest bit more bearable. 

       That’s what soulmates were supposed to do, after all. Comfort their other halves with their presence, make them feel loved and cherished. So yes, just being near him, just being his volleyball team manager was enough. 

       “Kenma, you’re doing so good baby!” 

       Most of the time. 

                               ~~~

       School sucked. It always sucked. 

       More recently, however, you thanked whatever floated up in that deep blue sky for it, because you sat next to him. 

       “Ms. YLN, please pay attention!” You straightened up in your chair and nodded your head frantically, blushing at the sounds of giggles around the room. 

       “Sorry sir.” The teacher glanced at you over his glasses with pursed lips before returning to the board, scraping random equations in white chalk. 

       You couldn’t help it. It was the only time Kenma’s girlfriend was guaranteed to not be around. In those times, your heart fluttered at his proximity. It seemed you had become hyper-aware of his presence over the past few weeks, shivering at even the slightest bit of contact. 

       Like a lonely dog, you felt touch-starved, depraved of your body’s most necessary essentials. Not being around Kenma made you grumpier, more easily disturbed and aggravated. Being around Kenma’s girlfriend, however, had the same effect. 

       Moments like those, where Kenma was so close to touch and yet so far away in your heart was when you defaulted to your newest habit-- poking, prodding, and twirling the red string on your pinkie. 

       Weeks-- or was it months-- ago, you had sputtered the lie that you couldn’t see it; that Kenma’s eternal attachment to you was one-sided, but it soon became your largest source of comfort. 

       Now was one of those moments. You had a lapse in judgement, and being nervous and embarrassed after being called out by your teacher, you slipped up. And Kenma saw. 

       Gnawing on your lip, you anxiously pinched the ruby string. It was smooth, almost like silk, but just as thick as woven yarn, wrapped loosely around your final finger. You twisted and rotated it, spinning nervous circles around your skin. 

       And then you tugged. 

       Kenma’s left hand, absent-mindedly holding up his chin while the other drew lazy patterns on his desk top, slips right out from under his head and falls limply into the aisle space between your and his desks. He barely avoids face-planting by flattening his other palm against the table and holding himself up, and by then you know you’re screwed. 

       His eyes are wide as they dart to his fallen arm, dragging it back up to his desk and staring in bewilderment at his hand, or more specifically his pinkie. Even more specifically, the red string wrapped around it, trailing through the air and creating a flimsy bridge to you. 

       Oh shit.

       You’re clenching your jaw and avoiding his awed gaze with all the will you can muster, but a discovery has already been made. 

       “YN-” 

       “Mr. Suzuki!” You snap your hand up in the air in an instant, trying to ignore how it trembles. The red string is clearly visible to both you and Kenma at this point, and fuck, he knows! “May I please go to the bathroom?”

       “Can it wait-”

       “It’s an emergency!”

       “Ohh, y-yes please do.” 

       Kenma watches you with a look in his eyes you don’t dare decipher as you slip out of the classroom, ducking your head and chewing on the insides of your cheeks. 

       Goddamnit YN!

                               ~~~

       Attending the volleyball game tonight almost wasn’t an option, but the coach begged and pleaded that you be there. 

       “Bring it to me!”

       It was only a practice game, but against your school’s most fated rivals. The “trash-can showdown,” everyone was calling it. 

       “It’s up!” 

       The other team, Karasuno, was good, but less-experienced. However, they did have a little spitfire on their team that appeared almost identical to a tangerine, and slightly reminded you of Nemo. 

       Wham!

       He was good too. 

       Kenma, however, seemed out of it. He could play his best during a thunderstorm wrapped up in a monsoon, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see how disturbed he was. Especially since every few seconds his eyes locked on you.

       But alas, the game also had one very special guest. Her. So you kept your distance and avoided his presence like the plague. 

       Slam!

       Pop!

       Boom! 

       The game is over sooner than you expect it, and you flip over the last point card. Nekoma wins 25-23, and all the boys are worn to the bone. 

       “One more game!” the ginger spiker cries aloud, his blue setter nodding in agreement. 

       They’re the only ones standing while everyone else is passed out in sweat puddles. “Fuck no!” Yamamoto hisses, dropping his head back to the floor directly after. 

       A giggle sounds from the wall, but only you were close enough to hear it from your spot nearby. It’s Kenma’s girlfriend, and she’s watching…. 

       Oh. 

       You knew that look before. Her petite figure, from head to toe, is directed toward Karasuno’s pint-sized middle blocker. 

       You couldn’t lie. They would look good together. Perfect even.

       Oh. 

                               ~~~

       Weeks. Fucking weeks passed and they were still together, just as lovey-dovey as before, if not more so now. 

       Distantly, you wondered if Kenma knew. You wondered if she had told him she met her soulmate. You wondered if…. 

       Fuck it.

       There was no point in wondering. They were still together, and not even meeting their soulmates had stopped them. 

       It was the ultimate blockade in their relationship, and they broke through like no big deal. Maybe you were right. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be, no matter how much you fucking praised yourself for finally gaining the guts to tug on your string. 

       That shit doesn’t happen on accident, you know. 

       But obviously it had no effect. A young spiker at another school would be left just as lonely as you. His eyes were so bright and innocent, full of life. You envied him, so naive and wide-eyed, because unlike you, he would never have to watch his soulmate with somebody else. The boy, Hinata you think his name was, would go his whole life with the hope that one day his soulmate would find him and be with him forever.  

       God, how you envied his obliviousness. You didn’t want this baggage, emotional and physical. The more you were around Kenma, the more your string tugged against your pinkie, urging you to fight for what you would never win. 

       Perhaps… without the connection, you could feel better?

       Certainly it wouldn’t hurt, right? 

       Just a little snip and you could go back out into the world just as your own soulmate had done. Find someone to settle down and be happy with, no matter how daunting of a task that was. 

       Maybe Kenma could be happy for you, just as you had been for him initially. Surely this act would benefit you both, right? 

       The string was just… useless at this point. It held no purpose other than pain. And with that, you had decided. 

       Finding scissors in a school is easy. An art class was your first target. All classes had just ended and people were making their ways home. 

       Volleyball practice would start soon.

       You would be there, happy as a clam. Free as a bird.

       You only had twenty minutes before it began. Luckily, the action could be performed quickly. It was the internal resistance that made the task five hundred times harder. 

       The teacher had left for the day, leaving her classroom unlocked for the custodian. Students occasionally walked past the open doorway, still emptying out of the building, and if they were to glance inside, all they would see is you. You, seated upon a desk, a pair of scissors in one hand, the other hand sitting tentatively in your lap. You, blank-faced observing your pinkie and the string wrapped around it. 

       You, ready to let go of all the pain. 

       It won’t hurt anymore, YN!

       When you see him, he’ll just be another person to you. A nobody.

       You can move on now! Find someone for yourself if you just fucking snipped it!

       The blades stood parted, waiting for the order, for just a little pressure on both ends. Then it would all be over. 

       But you couldn’t. 

       No matter how much you strained your hand, urging yourself to squeeze the muscles, close the blade and rupture the broken promise, you couldn’t do it. 

       “Goddamnit,” you mumbled under your breath, squeezing your eyes closed and wishing you weren’t crying over this. 

       It was so unfair. The only person being hurt throughout all of this was you. Nobody else cared. Nobody else noticed. Nobody else-

       “YN.” What?

       You jumped at the sudden voice, soft and all-too familiar. The blades slipped between your fingers after having flinched and clattered to the floor, catching more ears than anything else. Kenma’s gaze only flickered to the kiddy scissors once before it returned back to you, pained.

       “You, umm, you shouldn’t do that.” 

       Excuse me?

       “What?” You were the definition of dumbfounded, immobilized on top of the desk with your fingers twitching just above your lap. 

       “You shouldn’t do that.” 

       Nothing had changed. He stood right in the doorway, the sunlight from the hallway windows giving his uneasy posture an angelic aura. No emotion was clear on his face; instead, it was a mixture of furrowed brows and pursed lips, followed by golden eyes that swirled with an unfamiliar emotion. 

       He, in himself, was a blur of mixed messages. 

       “Why not?” Of course you knew what he was talking about, but you felt more and more peeved at his words. He had no right to tell you what to do with such a useless, unbearable, futile red string-

       “We broke up.” 

       …

       Oh.

       Suddenly it was hard to breathe. 

       “W-what?”

       “She broke up with me.”

       You were speechless. Mouth gaping like a fish, you struggled to find the words, any words to say to him. You didn’t even know how to feel, so you settled on the most basic reaction for when someone says those words. 

       “Oh, Kenma I’m so sorry.” 

       “No you’re not.” 

       “Excuse me?”

       “You’re not.” He shrugged, finally stepping into the room and letting the door fall to a close. “And do you want to know how I know you’re not?” 

       You couldn’t respond. 

       “It’s because I’m not sorry either.” The words leave your heart racing as Kenma approaches you. Every step he takes triples the number of butterflies in your stomach. His shoes squeak against the floor but your eyes stay locked on his. You just couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to. 

       Finally, he’s close enough to touch you, just a hand’s width away from your knees where they bend and let your lower legs dangle. Your ears are perked and lying in wait while you fiddle with your fingers in your lap, hoping to fight off the urge to reach out for him. 

       “YN, I’m not sorry because it felt right.” Kenma shakes his head. “It felt good- actually, no, not good. Perfect. I wasn’t supposed to be with her.” He sounded hopeless. “On the inside, deep down, I realized I was glad I wasn’t.” 

       “...Why?” 

       “Because that girl who sat next to me in class, the girl who managed for all of my volleyball games and yet she didn’t know about our red string, she was on my mind twenty-four seven. YN, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

       You were wrong. Kenma didn’t sound hopeless. Sure, he sounded confused and lost, but not hopeless. If anything, you were finally able to identify that look in his eyes. Hope. 

       For a moment, you had nothing to say. Your chest was almost overflowing with joy, but something… something was stopping it. Apprehension stood in the form of a shadow of doubt. Why didn’t he…

       “Why didn’t you do anything sooner?” You had just wanted to get the feeling out in some form of words. The feeling of Why did you string me along for weeks after finding out I knew?

       Kenma was smarter than he looked. He always was, so you were glad he had uncovered the meaning behind your words. 

       “I thought…” he gulps and finally looks away after minutes of watching you, “I thought you didn’t want me. You didn’t tell me you knew about the string, and when I found out,” he shrugs, “I figured you didn’t say anything because you didn’t want me.” 

       Maybe… maybe you had both made mistakes. You had both indirectly hurt each other. Each of you was broken and hurting after what had transpired for months. Maybe the best way to go about fixing it was to finally do it together. Be together. 

       “I did want you. And I still want you. Do you… want me?”

       At last, Kenma raises his head and makes eye contact with you, causing your heart to do somersaults in your chest. His cheeks are rosy, most likely almost identical to your own, and he decides to gift you a hint of a smile. 

       “Yes, please.” 

                               ~~~

       “Kenma, set it this way!”

       “One touch!” 

       “I got it, I got it!”

               “Back me up!” 

       The setter was back to his A-game, and with every successful play, he sent you a glance.

       Like a good girlfriend, you sent him back a proud grin each time that made him flush more than the sweat dripping down his temple. 

       By the end of the game, they won with four points to spare. The team hopped around in joy, screaming and pumping fists with cheers of triumph.

       A small tug on your pinkie directed your eyes back to Kenma, where his lips twitched in effort to hold back a grin. Another tug almost pulled you off the bench, causing you to rise to your feet with a giggle. 

       The moment you came closer, Kenma shyly wrapped his arms around you and released an excited squeak into your hair. 

       “We won.” You could hear the restrained glee in his tone, it’s only outlet being the steadily increasing tightness of his hold around your waist. 

       Fine, you would celebrate for him, as always. 

       “YEAH YOU DID!” you squealed excitedly, digging your fingers into his sweaty jersey and jumping up and down. His form stayed stiff against your own, jiggling back and forth with your movements. 

       It was only when you tried to peel away that he finally responded, tugging you back in and smiling against your neck. “Geez, calm down, it’s only a game.”

       “Pfft.”

       Kenma chuckles and presses a kiss to your skin and suddenly you’re on cloud nine. 

       Nothing could be better than this, because this was destined. This was written among the stars, etched into the many spirals of the milky way, crafted only by fate itself.

       This was two soulmates, forever meant to be. 

        What a useful red string this is.