Haikyuu imagines

Accidental Leak- Kenma

I never meant to be a part of Kenma's stream.

Really. I didn't.

But there I was, perched awkwardly on the edge of his gaming chair, trying not to wiggle in his space while he frantically typed and clicked and muttered to himself about in-game stats and chat. I'd promised I'd just "watch for five minutes," but apparently five minutes had stretched into an hour, and now the fluorescent lights of his setup bathed us both in a soft, weirdly intimate glow.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, eyes glued to the monitor, fingers flying over the keyboard. "We need to secure the objective. Lev, block him-"

I rolled my eyes. "Kenma, it's just a game. Calm down."

He didn't even look at me. Just kept mumbling strategies under his breath, and for some reason, my heart was already hammering. Maybe it was the way he focused so intently, hair falling over his forehead, tiny frown between his eyebrows, that soft concentration that always made me want to reach out and touch him. Not like... anything obvious. Just... safe, comforting.

"Chat's asking if you're single," he muttered suddenly, not looking at me, voice low.

I froze. "...Excuse me?"

"I said-" He blinked, then froze mid-typing. "Uh... I mean... I didn't-"

My eyes widened. "Kenma, what did you just-?"

He looked at me, panic slowly creeping into those cat-like eyes. "I didn't say anything! I didn't mean to-"

Too late. The chat was on fire. Numbers were shooting up, emojis were exploding across the screen:

"OMG IS THIS Y/N???" "KENMA'S DATING???" "SHIP IT SHIP IT SHIP IT 💀💀💀" "WAIT THEY'RE TOGETHER???"

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Kenma! You literally just leaked it!"

"I didn't!" he protested, typing furiously. "I meant-chat asked if I was single. I-uh... shit."

The chat only went wilder. One moderator was spamming warnings, but it was useless. The flood was unstoppable. Hearts, fire emojis, GIFs of screaming anime characters. It was chaos.

I peeked over my hands, glaring at him. "Do you have any idea how fast your chat moves? You just ruined my life."

He pressed his face into his hands, muttering, "I didn't mean to... I didn't-"

"Kenma," I said, trying not to laugh at the sight of him panicking like a tiny cat caught in a thunderstorm, "you literally just told the entire internet we're dating."

He froze, finally looking at me. "...We are?"

"...Yes, Kenma. That's exactly what we are," I said, smirking a little despite myself.

He blinked. Then blinked again. "...Oh."

And somehow that single, quiet acknowledgment made my stomach twist in that familiar way. My heart was suddenly racing-not because of the chat, not because of the accidental leak-but because he'd said it. So calm. So normal. So terrifyingly, wonderfully normal.

The chat continued to explode. Numbers climbing faster than I could comprehend. Kenma's panic only grew. He fumbled at the keyboard, muttering, "I... we... um... it's... okay? Nothing to see-no-wait!"

"Kenma," I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. His fingers were warm, trembling slightly. "Relax. It's fine. Honestly, it's... kind of cute."

He looked at me, eyes wide. "...Cute?"

"Yeah," I said, squeezing his hand. "You're... adorable when you panic like this."

A blush crept up his neck. "...I'm not adorable," he muttered.

"You totally are," I said, leaning closer. "And honestly... I kind of like that everyone knows now. Less hiding, less awkward sneaking around. We don't have to pretend we're not-"

He cut me off with a soft, sharp inhale, like he'd been holding his breath for a year. "You... mean that?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean... you're mine, and I'm yours. If the world freaks out, let them. I don't care."

He blinked slowly, looking at me like I'd just solved all his problems and broken half his brain at the same time. "...Okay."

Then, just like that, he leaned closer. Not in a big dramatic way, not for the stream-just... quietly, carefully, like he wasn't sure if he'd be allowed. My heart thumped. His fingers tightened around mine.

The chat went feral.

Somehow, the emojis didn't matter. The numbers didn't matter. The screaming fan messages didn't matter. Not when Kenma's warm hand was in mine, when he whispered, "...I'm glad it's out. With you. I mean... us."

I smiled, resting my forehead lightly against his. "...Me too."

And just like that, the internet could scream all it wanted. Because in that moment, I didn't care. Kenma's cat-like, soft, anxious presence was all that mattered.

The chat would survive. We'd survive. Together.

Even if the internet didn't.