but when you do? god, it makes everything around you go still.
his real laugh.
not the huffs. not the sarcastic snorts. not the amused breath through his nose.
the real one. the one that escapes before he can stop it. bright and careless and beautiful.
and this time, it bubbles out of him fast, catching on the end of his sentence like he didn’t mean to let it out. he covers his mouth too late, shoulders jolting slightly as he leans forward, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart do something stupid.
you’ve been around him long enough to know when he’s holding back and when he isn’t. and this? this is pure. unfiltered.
a sound you want to keep hearing for the rest of your life.
he’s still laughing when you say it, soft and stunned and entirely honest:
“you have a really pretty laugh.”
his breath catches mid-laugh.
and then it hits full force. the weight of your words, the sincerity behind them. and just like that, the laugh dissolves into something quieter, more flustered. his cheeks tint pink almost instantly.
“shut up,” he says, voice cracking halfway through the word, eyes darting everywhere but at you.
you grin. “i’m serious.”
he covers his mouth with his sleeve like it might somehow hide the way the blush is blooming across his face, delicate and pink and unavoidable.
“it’s not... i don’t... why would you say that out loud?!”
“because it’s true?” you shrug, teasing, but still a little breathless. “it’s… i dunno. it suits you. 's cute.”
he side-eyes you, expression caught between offended and embarrassed and that quiet, cracking amusement you’re addicted to. “what does that even mean?”
“i mean…” you trail off, eyes on him now. his lashes, the curve of his smile, the flush spreading across his cheeks like blooming petals.
“i mean, you’re always so... guarded... or something. like, you're very serious. or stoic." you say, grappling with the right words. "and then you laugh like that and it’s just... soft? and bright. and it makes people want to hear it again. it puts me in a better mood!”
he blinks. then quickly looks away.
“…i hate you.”
you laugh. “no you don’t.”
“i might.”
you watch him try to hide the way he’s still smiling. the way the pink deepens near his ears. you want to press your thumb against his cheek just to feel the warmth there.
he exhales, shaking his head. “you’re so annoying.”
you lean in a little. “so are you. but at least you’re charming when you laugh!”
his eyes flick toward you. something unreadable behind them. and then, finally, a soft reply:
“…you’re the only one who’s ever said that.”
you blink. your chest aches.
then you say, “well, i’m right.”
and when he looks at you again, that blush still lingering like cherry blossoms in the spring, he doesn’t deny it.
dating shinsou would feel so fucking solid - like you would never doubt that man's interest in you. not once. even when you're having a meltdown in his arms or howling with rage, like - he's there. he's gonna continue to be there.
he doesn't think you're too much; fuck, he's so in tune with every move you make that he's anticipating what you need before you even need it. dude is the type of guy to lock in with a partner and not let them go.
(plus the way his palm always sits right at the small of your back so he can slide between your shoulder blades to collar the back of your neck when you're getting overwhelmed out in public. like *topples over*)
you turned to him confused, pulling away a little from the arm he draped over you
“it smells nice, ‘s all.” he added with a little shrug. but his eyes never leave, still waiting for answers.
you told him you’re not using any, and he looks just as confused. so he did what was natural to him, pulled you in closer and sniffed you around.
“it’s…on your face?” well, he didn’t want to judge. maybe it’s a new trend.
“oh…it’s the sunscreen” oh wow, he almost looked mad, proclaiming it's unfair for just sunscreen to smell so good while the men’s one is pure terrible.
you explained about potential allergens or irritants from fragrance though.
but he said “it’s worth getting fucked up for,” so yeah, he’s getting the same sunscreen as yours.
hey! I recently found your smaus and I'm in luv w it 😚😚😚i was wondering if you would do the "what he'd post on Instagram about you" with shinsou Hitoshi from mha?? No pressure to do this, though. Bye!
THE THINGS SHINSOU HITOSHI POSTED ON HIS INSTAGRAM STORY JUST FOR YOU
omg I actually jumped for joy when I saw this was an option, CAN I PUHLEEEASE HAVE rude ~ magic! butler x prince/princess FOR SHINSOU
TRACK ELEVEN: SHINSOU HITOSHI // rude ~ magic!
trope: butler x princess ( NSFW! )
event link
You wake up, as you do everyday, with a pillow being thrown in your face.
You can’t fault Shinsou. You sleep like the dead, and he learnt quickly that trying to wake you up in any way other than violently, it just wasn’t going to work. You groan, flipping around and burying your head deeper into the soft silk pillows stacked beneath your head.
“Up you get, princess. You’ve a lot of work to do today.” He scolds lightly, opening your curtains and letting in the harsh morning light.
You groan louder, throwing the pillow back at him. He makes an unimpressed noise as it hits his back. “That it not very ladylike of you.”
“Throwing pillows at ladies is not very gentlemanly of you, either.” You grumble.
You push yourself up, leaning on your elbows. Your hair is a mess, and you push the unruly strands out of your face to fix him with an unhappy look. “It is too early to wake me up. The sun has barely passed the horizon.”
Shinsou tilts his head, strands of lavender hair brushing against his face. “Was it not you who told me to wake you the moment it was light outside?”
You had. But that’s neither here nor there. You tell him as much, and Shinsou rolls his eyes. “You have about a million things to do today. An early start is a good one.”
“Oh, alright.”
Shinsou stands at the foot of your bed, hands clasped behind his back. “Shall I prepare your morning tea?”
“Yes, please.” You huff, finally getting up out of bed.
Shinsou disappears for a moment, and returns carefully carrying a tray. You’re not surprised with the speed it takes him to produce it. He knows your morning routine better than you do, and you’re sure he has it ready before you even tell him you want it.
The floor is cold against your bare feet when you finally stand, and you thank him softly as you grab the cup, taking a long sip. You sigh happily, feeling the warmth spread through you.
You place the cup back on the tray, and clap your hands together determinedly. “Okay. What is on my agenda today?”
You walk over to your closet, surveying your dresses and skirts. When you were younger, your father insisted you had maids dress you and bathe you and practically breathe down your neck constantly. You hated every second of it. The day you turned eighteen, you put your foot down, insistent that you didn’t need anyone helping you with anything anymore.
Shinsou is the only exception.
“Well, you have a dress fitting at twelve o’clock, then your English lessons.” Shinsou rattles off. “Oh, and then, of course, your father’s ball in the evening.”
You frown, hands pausing where you’d been flitting through your clothes. “Another?”
“Another.”
You sigh irritatedly. “I think I’ll be old and withered by the time he’s finished throwing them.”
Shinsou shrugs, leaning against your bedroom door. “It’s ball season. It’s to be expected.”
You turn to Shinsou. “And it is still so tiresome and boring.”
Shinsou snorts a laugh. “Why are you sulking so much? What’s the issue in dressing up and eating food?”
You do sound a bit ridiculous. There’s thousands of girls who’d kill to be in the position you’re in, and here you are, complaining about being pampered.
“Apologies. I don’t mean to sound so spoiled.” You say sheepishly, turning back to your closet.
Shinsou smiles slightly. “Ever so humble, our princess.”
You pick out a dress and a corset, walking over and laying them across your bed. Your nightgown flutters around your legs, and it pillows around you as you sit down on the edge of your bed. You smooth your hands over the material.
“Alright. Please leave, so I can change.”
“Are you sure you do not need any assistance?” Shinsou hums. “A proper butler should never leave his lady looking anything less than perfect.”
You ignore the playful lilt to his voice, and the flush that spreads through your cheeks at being called his lady. You turn your head waving him off.
“I will be quite alright, thank you.”
Shinsou sighs dejectedly, bowing. “Very well. I will be outside if you need me.”
You’re sure if people heard the way he speaks sometimes, when it’s just the two of you and there’s no one else around, he’d be fired on the spot. Maybe something worse, if your father was not in a forgiving mood. But you love it. He talks to you like you’re just Y/N, not a princess or royalty. You think it also helps that he’s easy on the eyes.
Shinsou worked a few years in the King’s guard before he became your lord-in-waiting. There was an incident, you’d heard whispered in the halls of the castle, something that rendered him unable to fight. You’ve thought about asking him about it once or twice, but he gets awfully wistfully whenever you pass the new knights training in the grounds, so you decide not too. He was too good to lose, so your father appointed him as your butler and guard all in one.
That being said, the hard muscles and lean body he’d earned from all his training hadn’t yet faded. Not that you noticed it that much. You don’t like Shinsou just because he’s good-looking. It’s just nice to talk to a man who treats you like every other girl, and not untouchable royalty. Most men you speak to act like they’re one wrong word away from being banished from the kingdom, and the rest are more interested in becoming King then becoming anything meaningful to you.
And who are you to turn down a bit of harmless flirting?
You manage to get everything on by yourself, apart from your corset. You try, in vain, to tighten the intricate strings in the back, but you can barely see them from the mirror on your vanity. You sigh irritatedly, and call Shinsou back in.
The door opens almost instantly, and Shinsou steps inside, shooting you a smile. “You’ve called me back so quickly? I knew you couldn’t resist my expert services.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure. If that is what you need to believe.”
You hold the corset tightly against your chest. It’s not the first time he’s done this for you, but you still feel nervous at the exposed skin of your back and shoulders being so plainly in his view. Shinsou sees the loose laces and already knows what you need.
“Turn around for me.” He murmurs. “Unless you’d rather stay half-dressed.”
You shoot him a look but turn anyway. Shinsou’s fingers brush against your back as he picks up the soft laces.
“So mouthy.” You tut and Shinsou huffs a laugh.
It’s still early, and the sunlight casts shadows over your room. Shinsou had opened your windows in the morning, so a cold breeze settles over your skin. You pretened that that is the reason for the goosebumps on your arms. You brace yourself as he tightens them, sucking in a breath. You’d think you’d get used to having your insides squished together in these things, but it never gets any easier. Shinsou’s hand trails higher, and you can feel the warmth of his skin on your own as he works.
His breath ghosts against your ear as he leans in. “I think you like mouthy. It’s much more interesting.”
You don’t respond to that, mainly because you’re not sure you can without sounding as flustered as you feel.
He ties off the laces and smooths his hands down the soft material. “All finished.”
You look at yourself in the reflection of your bedroom mirror. This dress is one of your favourites. The material is so soft, layers of tulle and dark green fabric that puff around your legs. There’s jewels sewn into the lining, and when you step into the light they glint and shimmer.
Shinsou’s hands leave your waist, almost reluctantly. “It’s a crime such a pretty dress is wasted on your morning duties.”
You smile slightly, brushing the material down. “Well, do not worry. I’m sure I’ll have a prettier dress to wear tonight. And I’m sure father has lined up enough suitors to ogle at me all they’d like.”
Shinsou can hear the bitterness in your tone, and you can feel his eyes on you as he takes a step back. “You don’t seem particularly excited about that.”
You regard yourself in the mirror, shaking your head. “Would anyone be? These men, they. They all have the same goal in mind, the same as my father: He’s very adamant that I find a husband sooner rather than later.”
You fiddle with the fabric of your skirts, the material soft as you twirl it around your finger nervously. Shinsou walks forward, and you turn to face him. He unhooks your fingers from skirt, smiling slightly.
“You’re still young. You have time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not young. We are the same age, no?”
“Yes. There are very different expectations expected of us, though.” He muses. “But tonight will be fun.”
You cross your arms, glancing up at him. “It never is. You’re lucky. You only have to sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of us act a fool.”
“I’m only interested in watching one of you.”
You wave him off, biting back a smile.
He’s so close. Close enough that a few inches more and you’d be touching, and then you could finally do what your brain has been begging for since the first time you spoke. It lingers in your mind for longer than it should, and takes a good deal of effort to ignore.
Instead of doing anything stupid, you take a step back and pray that he ignores how nervous you look, that there’s a chance he doesn’t even notice it.
“We- I should go. I’ve got a busy day ahead.” You smile faintly, grabbing your hairbrush from your dresser.
If Shinsou has any protests about your dismissal of him, he doesn’t voice them. He only nods, moving to the door.
“I’ll be outside to escort you to the tailor once you are ready.”
“Yes, thank you.” You smile, the brush going limp in your hand as the door shuts quietly behind him.
You don’t call him back this time.
—-
Dress fittings are very uncomfortable occasions.
Being stood in a room of about six people all staring at every curve and contour of your body is your worst nightmare. And they aren’t shy. No, your father appoints the best of the best, and the best of the best seem to think their own words are gospel, and that they can do and say whatever they like. You’ve actually had one of them grip the fat of your thighs and tut, and insist you ‘skip dessert’ for the next few weeks if you want to fit into a nicer dress.
You hate them all. Except for Hakamada. He doesn’t really talk much, but he’s patient, and seems to care more about how you feel than if his dresses get worn. He’s worked for your family for years, and you’re glad that you at least have him to save you from the other two.
Unfortunately, you don’t think he can make today’s fitting, which is why you’re wearing the monstrosity that you are. You’re standing on the small podium so they can all see you properly, and you frown at your reflection in the mirror. The dress is too frilly and comically big. You’re unsure how they even expect you to walk around in this without falling flat on your face. You look completely ridiculous, and judging by how Shinsou is refusing to meet your eye from the corner of the room, he agrees too.
Suzuki bites her bottom lip worriedly as she examines you, fluffing up the skirt. “Is it too pink?”
“It’s too pink.” Ito nods.
You nod. “Yes, I-“
Suzuki quickly waves you off. “No offence, darling but let us professionals decide this, okay?”She says, flashing you one of her fake smiles that show way too much teeth.
You want to say that you're both agreeing, so your opinion is clearly not any less valid than hers, but instead you give her a tight-lipped smile and focus your attention back to your reflection.
They gawk at you for a moment more before Ito ushers you over to the folding screen so you can get changed into the next dress they have waiting for you.
You’re thankful to be rid of the suffocating material, and you stand and wait for them to pass you the next one. They take their time looking through the option while you stand half naked waiting for them. You feel too exposed in just your undergarments, and you cross your arms over your chest and try not to storm out of the room. The two idiots are arguing over whose dress should be tried on next. It’s by God’s saving grace that the doors to the room open, and Hakamada walks in with his own garments draped over his arm.
“Apologies for my lateness, your majesty.” He bows, and you peek your head over the side of the folding screen so you can beam at him.
“No worries. I’m glad you could make it.”
Shinsou takes the dresses from his arms and hangs them up on one of the clothing racks near the front of the room. They share some small conversations. They know each other, back from when Shinsou was a knight and Hakamada had designed their uniforms. You see a wistful look in his eyes, and you wonder if he misses working out in the field instead of being with you.
Ito and Suzuki immediately look annoyed upon Hakamada’s arrival, and you roll your eyes at their sour expressions.
“Hakamada! We thought you couldn’t make it today.” The smile on Ito’s face looks like it pains him, and you stifle a laugh.
“I thought I’d be held up, but I was not.” He states. “Is it my turn to present my dress?”
“Maybe we-“
“Yes!” You exclaim. You’re still peering over the side, clinging to the screen so you don’t accidentally flash anyone. “Yes, I’d like to see your options.”
Hakamada nods, gesturing for Shinsou to bring him one.
Suzuki sighs irritatedly. “Princess, with all due respect-“
“With all due respect, I am the one to be wearing the dress, so I think I am well within my right to decide which one it is to be.” You snap.
They don’t have a reply for that. Shinsou walks over to give you the dress, and his fingers brush yours as you take it from his hands.
“Feisty.” He murmurs under his breath, and you turn around to hide your smile.
One of your maids helps you into the dress, and when you step up on the podium and see yourself in the mirror, you know this is the one.
You run your hands down the soft tulle and the skirt that perfectly circles your waist. The fabric is a mix of white and purple, colours fading into one another, with gold sequins sewn into the delicate material.
“This one. This is the one I want.” You say, turning around to see the back in the mirror.
Hakamada smiles slightly. “Perfect.” He comes to stand behind you, cinching it a little more around your waist.
“I think I’ll need to take it in a little here, but it’ll be ready for tonight.”
“Perfect.” You grin.
Ito reaches forward, his hands hovering over the material. Hakamada bats him away but he doesn’t move. “Are you sure? I have a purple one we could look at?”
“No. I like this one.” You say firmly.
“Are you sure?” Suzuki also hovers on your other side. “There’s still a lot more options left. And this one, it’s nice, yes, but I’m sure I can find something that flatters you a bit more.”
“I like this one, though.” You reply, but your voice is already getting weaker.
You’re already slightly regretting your choice under their scrutinising gaze. Your confidence dwindles as they whisper between themselves and you fiddle with the fabric, biting your cheek as you look at yourself harshly in the mirror
“I think it flatters her just fine.” Hakamada shoots them a look but you’re already losing interest.
You sigh. “Maybe. Maybe we should look at a few more. Just in case?”
You hear a noise of disagreement from the back of the room. You look up in the mirror and catch Shinsou’s eyes. He’s stood dutifully at the back of the room and his gaze hasn’t left you since you walked in.
“I don’t think you need to try on anymore dresses.” He says.
Suzuki rolls her eyes. “Of course. Now the butler has an opinion.” She mutters, throwing her waist measure on the table.
You pay her no mind. Your eyes are still trained on Shinsou. “Really?”
“Yes. You look beautiful.”
You let out a breath of relief, his reassurance enough to quell all your worries. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll take this one, please.”
——-
It feels as if your English lessons fly by, mainly because you spend the whole time thinking about the ball later in the evening. You aren’t nervous about it. You don’t think you could be nervous over something you’ve done a million times, you just have no energy for it today. You wish you could just sit in the garden or read one of the novels your father had bought you from a few towns over, anything at all.
Instead, you’re staring in front of the large ballroom doors, awaiting your announcement to enter the hall.
Your face feels heavy with the makeup caked onto it, and your dress has been considerably tightened around your waist. Your chest is heaving out your corset a little more than you feel comfortable with, and the heels you have on click as you tap your foot impatiently on the floor. You feel like a show pony, dressed up to be paraded around the room, and you know it’ll only get worse once you walk in there.
“Smile, princess.” Shinsou sings behind you.
You wave him off. Technically, he doesn’t need to be here. When you’re at an event like this, he should wait in his room or with the other staff until you’re finished and need him again. But he doesn’t usually do that. He hovers around the edges of the ballroom, and you’re thankful for it. The second you get bored or too tired, he’s there to escort you back to your room.
But today, you’re in a bad mood, and his teasing smile is only making you feel worse.
Shinsou raises a brow at the expression on your face. “Someone’s grumpy. English lessons didn’t go well?”
“Don’t be dense, Shinsou.” You grumble. “I can’t believe I have to spend the next few hours here. In this stupid dress.”
“At least it’s a beautiful dress. Very purple. I like that touch.”
That may or may not have something to do with why you liked the colour so much. The lavender is suspiciously similar to the one on his head, but you don’t dwell on it too much.
You huff, fluffing out the fabrics so they fall neatly around you. “Your wit is unappreciated at this time.”
Shinsou sighs wistfully, leaning against the wall beside him. “You don’t appreciate it any time.”
You hear your father wrapping up his welcome speech, and you know it’s time for you to walk in soon. Shinsou saddles up to your side and nudges your arm.
“It’ll be fine, princess. You won’t be in there that long, and then you can complain about it all night to me.”
That eases you slightly. You nod, a small smile curling against your lips. “Alright. That’ll tide me over, I suppose.”
As if on cue, the heavy doors of the ballroom open, and Shinsou shuffles out of sight. It’s a walk you’ve done a million times, down the middle of the room and up to join your father where he waits at the front. But your skin still crawls at all the eyes on you, hungry and searching and all over your body. But you ignore it, smile brightly and keep your head high as you join your father.
The party is the same as it always is. You go around and greet your guests for what feels like hours. They ask about your studies, about your father, but mostly about your youth, and how quickly it’s slipping away. A few of the more confident ones even slip in a few comments about babies, which you very dutifully ignore.
Occasionally, when the conversation is dry or someone is rattling on about something you’ve heard a million times before, your eyes drift around the room until they land on Shinsou. You think he’s always looking at you because whenever you find him, his deep gaze is trained squarely on you. He makes faces at the more annoying guests and rolls his eyes when they talk too long and you stifle your laughter behind sips of your champagne. It’s nice. It feels like you have someone on your side.
It doesn’t get really bad until Keigo approaches you.
You’ve spoken to him once or twice. He’s one of your fathers favorite suitors, a prince hailing from a kingdom too rich for its own good, but you hate his guts. He’s handsome, sure, but that seems to be the only good trait he possesses. He’s rude and conceited, and he seems to think that the ground he walks on is blessed. If you ended up married to him, you’d toss yourself off your bedroom balcony to get away from him.
Your efforts to avoid him only go well for so long. He approaches you confidently and you internally groan as he makes his way over to you.
“Your majesty.” He greets, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.
You’re trying very hard to hide the disgust on your face as he rises to his full height, smiling at you with teeth so white they reflect the light from the chandelier above you. “Keigo. What a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Seems like it was impossible to get you alone tonight.”
“Oh, yes.” You laugh awkwardly. “I was busy greeting my guests.”
“I’m a guest too, no? One of the more important ones, I’d say.” He grins.
“Right.” You take a sip of your champagne. “So how have you been?”
“Perfect.” Keigo is standing far too close to you, and the smell of his cologne is strong and stings your nostrils. “I just finished the furnishing in my new palace.”
“Another one? Do you not already own two?”
Keigo smirks. “You can never have too many. You should come by and see it. See them.”
You nod. “Maybe one day.”
Maybe never.
In one swift move, Keigo takes the champagne glass out of your hand.
You furrow your brows. “That- I was drinking that.”
He doesn’t pay you any mind. He carelessly dumps it onto the tray of one of your maids, almost spilling it over her, and before you can give her an apology he’s dragging you towards the middle of the room. The orchestra in the far corner of the room notices the commotion as people make space for the two of you, and begin to play a slow ballad. You watch in horror as people couple up and gather around you, and you have no choice but to comply with his dancing.
Keigo wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your waist and dragging your other hand up with his. The music crescendos and the two of you start flirting around the ballroom. You’re not entirely sure how the two of you got into this situation, but you grit your teeth and let him spin you slowly.
“You’re a great dancer.” He muses.
“It’s my duty to be.” You reply, your hair fanning around you as he dips you down and lifts you up.
Your eyes drift and you see Shinsou. He doesn’t look happy. His body seems tense and you watch him scan the way Keigo clings to your body, before he promptly turns away.
“So,” Keigo begins and your attention is drawn back to him, “I think enough time has been wasted.”
Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, princess.” The nickname tastes bitter coming from him, and you sigh irritatedly.
“I do not.”
Keigo chuckles, like you’re some blithering idiot, and when he speaks again, he does it slowly, like you’re too stupid to understand him if he speaks any quicker. “The marriage between our kingdoms of course.”
If he sees the blood drain from your face he makes no comment, just grips your hand with more purpose. “Our fathers seem pleased, and let’s be honest. You’re not getting any younger.”
“What did you just say to me?” You snap, and he only smiles.
“It’s true, my lady. But don’t misunderstand me. You are still by far the prettiest thing I’ve ever set my eyes on. Let’s just hope those looks age well, or I might have to upgrade to a newer model.”
And if his words didn’t disgust you enough, the hand that’s been circling your waist rises up until he’s practically fondling your chest, and you push him off you like his touch burned your skin.
“Get off me! Have you lost your mind?” You hiss, and he has the audacity to look offended, like you had done something wrong.
“I think you’ve lost yours. Don’t forget what I am to you.” He snaps and you laugh incredulously.
“You are nothing!” You yell, and you don’t care that half the room is staring at you now.
Because you’ve had enough. It’s like the damn inside you that had been threatening to burst has finally exploded, and you feel so hot with your rage that you have to clench your fists at your side to stop yourself from hitting him.
“I will never marry you. I will never- I would rather slit my own wrists than spend another second by your side.”
You ignore the gasps around the room, the sound of your voice echoing across the ballroom. You ignore the thunderous voice of your father, and storm out of the room, dress billowing behind you as the doors fly open.
You head for the garden. This late in the evening, it’ll be empty, and the last thing you need right now is anybody in your way. None of the maids are stupid enough to try and approach you, and you’re undisturbed as you finally make your way outside, the cool air soothing you slightly. You pace up and down the cobblestone path, your breath coming out fast and shaky, trying to calm yourself down.
Your father will kill you for what you just pulled. The whole kingdom will exile you to the farthest village possible for the embarrassment you just caused them. And even though a small part of you feels vindicated for finally yelling at Keigo in the face, you know the consequences of that action will far outweigh any gratification you got from it.
You slump down on one of the wooden benches. You try not to cry. Really, you do, but you can’t help the stinging behind your eyes, and the tears that smear the makeup that had been so carefully painted on your face hours before. You don’t know if it's anger or sadness or the accumulation of all the things you’ve been feeling the past few weeks, but you can’t stop them anyway.
You’re alone, so luckily there’s nobody to see you. You feel pathetic. You don’t have many girl friends you’d trust with something like this, and your maids would only listen for the gossip.
It’s when you’re feeling extremely alone that Shinsou finds you, as he always does.
You hear his footsteps thundering up the path, and when you lift your head up to meet his gaze, his face is creased with worry. It worsens when he sees your tear-stricken face, and he sits besides you. “No, don’t cry, Y/N.”
“They’re not sad tears, I’m- I’m really pissed.” You sniff, and Shinsou breathes a laugh.
His hand rubs smoothing circles into your back, and the feeling of his skin on yours feels better than you’d like to admit. It isn’t like Keigo, where you felt like your body was setting itself on fire trying to reject him. No, your body feels on fire for entirely different reasons.
You wipe furiously at your face and you’re sure you’ve smudged your makeup terribly. “I can’t believe him. Did you see what he did? How he grabbed me?”
Shinsou’s hand slides down and grabs your hand. “I saw.”
“Yes, you always do. If only you could’ve helped me.” You pout.
“Well, if it wouldn’t have ended with my head on a stake I’d have loved to jump to your rescue.” He muses, and you shake your head.
You rub at your eyes again and Shinsou huffs a laugh. You look at him curiously, and he points at your face. “Your mascara. You look like a panda.”
He swipes under you eyes slightly. “A very angry panda.”
“I am very angry. You should have heard what he was saying. Just disgusting. He’s a degenerate-”
“Princess-”
“He’s intolerable, he’s-”
“Y/N.” Shinsou says more firmly and your mouth clicks shut.
He looks good right now. His cheeks are slightly flushed from his run to find you, his hair so perfectly dishevelled and fluttering in the wind. He’s wearing a tux, a cheap one, but it still fits him perfectly, and from where he’s sitting the moon reflects over him in a way that makes him look a little otherworldly. Like something too good to be human.
You don’t catch what he says, too distracted by his pretty face to hear him. “Sorry, what?”
Shinsou smiles. “I said, why don’t I take you back to your room, and you can calm down and get yourself to bed.”
You bite at your lip. “What about my father?”
Shinsou waves you off. “He won’t say anything to you now. He’s too busy trying to calm down the crowd at the ball.”
You groan, burying your face in your hands. “God. I should not have done that.”
“It was quite attractive to watch.”
Your head shoots up, and he’s looking at you with a grin that should be illegal with the way it makes your toes curl in your heels.
“Shut it.” You stand up, face on fire.
“Will do.”
He escorts you to your room quickly, avoiding any unwanted interactions. He stands guard outside your door, and you hear him turn away the few people who try to enter your room, insisting that you’re not well enough to talk to anyone.
You wash your face slowly, wiping away the tear tracks and ruined makeup. You undress yourself as best as you can but you struggle after getting your heels and stocking off. You try your best to undo the corset on your dress, but it’s too difficult to untie on your own, the laces far back and way too tight. It took three people to get you in this dress. You won’t be enough to get you out of it.
After struggling for five minutes, you consider cutting yourself out of it. But the dress is too nice for that. There’s no maid you can ask. You’re too embarrassed to be seen by anyone right now. Except for the man standing outside your room.
You peek your head around your bedroom door. Shinsou is leaning against the wall, his tie loosened and his hand in his pockets.
“Shinsou.” You whisper. “Can you help me get this dress off?”
Shinsou raises a brow, his eyes flitting up and down your body. “You’re moving fast. Shouldn’t I propose first?”
“Shut up and get in here.” You scold and he follows your orders quickly.
The door clicks shut softly behind him. The light in your room is dim, only coming from the few candles you have lit around the room. The place is always clean. The maids don’t let even a speck of dust land on any of your furniture, no clutter or any sort of mess. You're thankful for them, of course, but sometimes you feel like your room is a set, not somewhere you live. But it’s home, you suppose.
Shinsou definitely feels at home. In your bedroom, you two can ditch the boundaries you have to keep when you're in public. He stretches himself out on your bed, tossing his suit jacket onto the chair on your vanity.
You roll your eyes at him. “Can you stop stretching on my bed and help me?”
“Apologies.” He gets to his feet and stands behind you.
You move your hair out the way. This feels oddly reminiscent of this morning, but with your heart feeling a lot heavier than it did then. Shinsou nearly groans at the sight of the complicated knots of your corset.
“So many knots. Do they really all need to be here?”
“Well, unless you’d like me to reveal my chest to half the kingdom, then yes, they do.”
Shinsou laughs and his breath is warm against your neck. “I definitely don’t want that.”
He begins to untie them slowly. “Are you feeling better?”
You hum. “Slightly. The anger has faded and embarrassment has started to kick in.”
“It wasn’t embarrassing.” He reassures you.
“No, it was.”
“Maybe. It was entertaining, at least.” He murmurs and you wince. “Is Keigo really that bad?”
You shake your head. “He’s worse. He told me that my father has basically chosen him to be my suitor.”
Shinsou's hands freeze on your back. “He did?”
You try not to read into it. You really do, but it's late and you feel weak after crying, and you read it as everything you want it to be.
“Yes. But I won't.”
Shinsou finally untangles the last string, and your hands come up to hold the corset in place. “Y/N-”
“I don’t care. I can’t marry him.” You take a step away from Shinsou, like the distance will make the tension in the room any less stifling.
It doesn’t help. You can feel his presence behind you, can feel him looking at the contours of your back. He shouldn’t be seeing you like this, not even thinking about you like this, but you can't bring yourself to care.
“Because of the whole disgusting degenerate thing?” Shinsou teases lightly, but it falls flat.
“Yes. And something else.”
“The blond hair?” You know he’s trying to joke with you to make this easier.
You don't fall for the bait.
Instead, you turn, and his face looks as full of yearning as your heart feels. And it’s the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s always looking at you, that gives you the courage to do what the two of you have been dancing around for months.
“You know why.” You whisper.
Shinsou breathes out, his body deflating. He steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.”
“Why? It’s about time, no?” You plead, and he shakes his head furiously.
“You can’t- We both can’t.” He snaps. He puts even more distance between the two of you, his knees hitting the back of your bed, and you rush to close it.
“And why not? Are you not sick of this, this waiting between the two of us for something to happen?” You fidget with your corset, hastily tying it behind you so that it won’t fall as you walk after him.
He holds his hand out and you stop. He walks swiftly to the door, fingers itching against the handle. But he doesn’t leave. Shinsou just stands there.
“Because once we do this, we can never go back.”
“I don’t want to go back. I want- I-“
You look a mess. You’re sure of it. You’d ditched your crinoline so your dress hangs around your feet, and your corset is slanted across your chest from where you’d haphazardly tied it. Your face is bare and most likely tinted red from your efforts to scrub your makeup off.
And still, he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And it makes your heart ache and you shake your head.
“I want you. I want you, Shinsou.” You whisper. “Not them. And I can’t keep pretending anymore.”
“Y/N.” His voice is strained. “Please.”
“Every second I’m in those ridiculous balls I’m just waiting until I can see you. I- It’s always been you, Shinsou.”
He hasn’t said anything. Which is strange, because he never doesn’t have something to whisper under his breath, to murmur to you when you have to be serious. He’s just looking at you, eyes flitting between yours desperately, his fingers still wrapped around the handle.
You fiddle with your hands nervously. “Shinsou. Please say something.”
He doesn’t. You swallow roughly as the seconds drag on for what feels like hours.
“Okay. Okay, I just embarrassed myself for a second time today. It’s okay, you can leave. Pretend I said nothing.” You laugh awkwardly, trying to push him out the door.
But he doesn’t budge. Shinsou finally lets go of the door and wraps his hand around yours. You don’t have time to question what he’s doing. Because in one swift motion, he’s pulling you towards him and closes the gap between the two of you, his lips pressing desperately against yours.
For a moment, you think you’re dreaming. Because this has been the subject of so many of your fantasies you don’t really think it’s happening.
But it’s real. His warm lips move against yours, and your teeth click against his, out of practice. His hands slide down from where they cup your cheek to grip your waist and pull you closer until your chest bumps into his. You let out a deep sigh, hands curling in his soft hair, tugging at the strands and eliciting a groan from his chest. His kiss is hungry. Years of feelings festering between the two of you thrumming through your veins. He breaks apart and his lips are slick with your spit, and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.
“Fuck.” His hands squeeze where they’re wrapped around your waist. “What are we doing?”
“Kissing.” You grin, pressing a soft one to his cheek, hands gliding over his muscular arms.
He shakes his head but he puts up no resistance as you kiss his cheeks again, then his jaw, and the soft junction of his neck. “This is stupid. We shouldn’t do this.”
“We’re already doing it.” You whisper against his skin and Shinsou pulls you back to face him.
His voice is soft and serious when he speaks, and the heat in your stomach only worsens at the careful way he’s looking at you. “Y/N. I need you to be sure this is what you want. And I need you to understand how serious this is. ”
His hand cups your face and his thumb runs over the curve of your cheek. You’re sure you’re looking at him with stars in his eyes, and you nod frantically. “Very serious.”
Shinsou tongue pokes at his cheek and he gives your cheek a light tap. He grins at the way your eyes light up at the contact. “Be serious.”
You hum. “I am. And this is what I want.”
“Alright, then.”
Shinsou turns you around and your back hits your bedroom door with a light thud. Your dress loops around the two of you and he smiles warmly. Long fingers wrap around your wrists, both his hands in one of yours, and he holds them above you as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. He’s not rushing anymore. His kisses are slow and sensual, his tongue dancing against your own. He tastes sweet, like the desserts stacked on the dining tables in the ballroom. You ease into him, hands twitching as you squirm in his grasp.
“Easy.” He murmurs. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to finish so quickly.”
He lets go of your hands, and instead unties the loose knot in the back of your corset. He looks to you for permission but you’re already shucking it off, tossing it on the floor behind you. You feel a flutter of nerves as his eyes rake over your body. Your arms move to hide yourself but he tuts, pulling them out the way.
“Don’t do that.” He scolds. “I need to see you.”
His fingers are calloused as they glide over your chest and under the thin fabric of your undergarments. When you don’t push him away he lets them glide over your nipples, as his leg pushes up to press between your thighs. He pinches them carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escapes you is muffled into his mouth.
“So soft. So beautiful.” He sighs as you break apart, and your reply is lost in your throat as he sucks a soft red mark into your skin.
“Wait,” you breathe. “You can’t. The maids will see.” You curl your hands in his hair and pull him back up.
Despite the fact it should be, this isn’t the first time you’ve been with a man. You’ve always been rebellious, to say the least, and while you haven’t lost your virginity, you’ve practically done everything else. But for some reason, everything with Shinsou feels different, feels heightened. Your skin feels hot and your underwear feels slick and you can barely catch your breath. Shinsou is pressed into you and you can feel him, feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh.
“Shame. Would’ve loved to mark you.” He sighs, dropping to his knees.
“Shinsou, what-“
“Mark you and show you off to all those men who can’t keep their filthy hands off you.” He bundles up your skirt and ducks his head under it.
Your face burns as you look down at him. “Shinsou, what are you doing?” You mumble.
“Need to taste you.” He says it so matter-of-factory, like you’re the one that’s being ridiculous.
He slips your underwear down your legs in one swift motion and eases you out of them. You barely have time to react before Shinsou licks up the length of your pussy, long and hard, and you find yourself melting into his touch.
“Fuck.” You breathe out, bracing your hand against the wall.
Shinsou hums against your skin, hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder. He’s done this before. You’re sure of it, because his tongue moves like it has a mind of its own, and your legs twitch as he laps over the soft flesh of your pussy. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs and he’s so insistent with his movements it feels like he’s trying to crawl his way inside of you.
He gives one firm lick over your clit and you keen. “Shinsou, please.”
“I know, baby.” He detaches from you with a wet noise that makes your face burn. “I bet nobody has touched you like this before.”
Despite the fact you think you’re about to finish all over his face, you snort a laugh. “Do not be so sure.”
Shinsou pauses his movement, mouth inches from your skin, his breath ghosting over your spit-soaked lips. You frown as he unhooks your leg from his shoulder, rising from underneath your dress to eye you suspiciously.
“Somebody has?”
“Two somebodies, actually.” You smile at his ruffled hair and at what you think is jealousy clouding over his face.
“Is that so?”
“It is.” You squirm a little, restless. “Can you please continue, now?”
Shinsou doesn’t move though. His gaze doesn’t leave your face. “Were they good?”
So it is jealousy. In all honesty, they weren’t very good. The first time you’d been sixteen, young and rosy/cheeked and too giddy that you were even in the same proximity as a boy to focus too much on his handiwork. You did finish, so there’s that. The second time, you were older, and he had been a little more experienced. He hadn’t been the best, more concerned with you returning the favour than whether you were enjoying yourself.
But you’ve seen this look on Shinsou before, the jealousy that clouds his features when you’re even standing too close to another man, and you like it.
“The best.”
Shinsou scoffs, ducking his head back down. You think he’s cursing someone under his breath, and your teasing retort is stolen from your lips as he thrusts two fingers inside you, his tongue resuming its work on your clit.
You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. It occurs to you very fleetingly that if the two of you get caught, Shinsou is as good as dead. And while you’re sure that nobody will bother you after everything that happened tonight, if anyone passing by hears a single sound out of you, it’ll be over.
And it’s hard to stay quiet when Shinsou is so determined to get you to break. His fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out. You’re dripping down his palm, and your hips chase his lithe fingers, grinding yourself on him so he hits that soft spot inside you that makes the corners of your vision blur.
“I’m close. I’m close, Shinsou.” You pant.
“Hitoshi.” He purrs into your skin.
And all it takes is him sucking your clit deep into his mouth for you to finish with his name on your lips, your legs twitching and your fingers digging into his shoulder. He keeps at you until you’re pushing him away, whining until he unveils his head from under your dress once more.
His cheeks are flushed when he rises to his feet, and he pouts at you, cooing. “God, look at you. You’re a mess.” He pushes your hair back behind your ear and you only have enough energy to shoot him an unimpressed look.
“Come on. We aren’t finished yet, pretty girl.”
It feels like it takes seconds for the two of you to undress and scramble onto your bed. The sheets are soft and cool your hot skin, and as you rest your head on your pillows, Shinsou crowds your vision. His hands grab your hips and move you into position beneath him. Your eyes rake over his naked body, the muscle of his arms and thighs, the scars that litter his body. Your fingers brush against the trail of hair leading down, and you watch with lidded eyes as he pumps himself slowly.
His other hand slides down and rubs at your sex and you squirm, still too overstimulated. “Oh, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
He adjusts himself at your entrance and you wait with bated breath for him to move. As soon as the head presses against your folds, you brace yourself. You’re sure his preparations were enough, but it’s been a while since you’ve had intercourse with another man.
But he doesn’t go any further than that. He just rubs his tip up and down, right against your clit until your brain feels foggy and you could cum again just from that.
“Shinsou. Come on.” You whine.
He tilts his head, completely unbothered despite the fact he’s so hard he’s leaking pre-cum all over you. “You know what to call me.”
“Hitoshi, please.”
The corner of his lip tilts up, and the smirk on his face is just not fair.
“Tell me what you want.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “And I’ll give it to you.”
“I want you.” You breathe, eyes slipping shut.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. It’s always been you.” Shinsou’s nose rubs against yours and his sighs sound so relieved.
“That’s a good fucking girl.”
You’re wet enough that when Shinsou finally starts to press into you, the slickness of your arousal makes it easy. You whine as your walls stress, and he hushes you, presses soft kisses into your skin until he’s fully seated inside you.
He’s barely moving. He holds himself up with one arm while the other grabs your waist, and his head is bent over your chest, his breaths long and hard. He just rocks his hips in a slow, filthy grind that draws the pleasure out. He thrusts in and out of you slowly. Like your his, like he has all the time in the world to lay you on your sheets and ruin you.
“Need- I need you to be quiet. Okay?” He whispers against your lips. “We can’t let anybody hear us.”
Soft moans leave your lips but you nod regardless. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
Your cunt makes a lewd, wet sound as he pulls out and presses back in quickly, and you squirm at the fullness. And then he’s moving even faster, starting up a steady pace. The slap of his hips hitting yours echo around the room. Each thrust pushes you up the bed, and you hook your arms around his neck to brace yourself.
“So good,” he places wet, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. “So perfect.”
You couldn't respond if you tried. You’re too focused on the feel of his cock against your walls, all hot and aching, and the fact that you can’t make as much noise as you wish you could. Shinsou’s so long you think he’s reaching in parts of you nobody has before, and the sting of the stretch is completely overwhelmed by how good it feels.
“Feels so good, Hitoshi.” You gasp, and your nails dig into his back as he lifts your hips up.
“Perfect fucking pussy,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl.”
The praise stirs in your stomach. His girl, his girl. It runs circles around your head as he drills into you. He’s watching your face so closely, your fucked-out expression as his hand comes up to tug at your nipple.
You tug the soft hair at the nape of his neck to steady yourself. You want this to last longer, but you can already feel the coil tightening in your stomach as his cock drags in and out of you
“Hitoshi. I’m close.” You whine, and he nods.
“It’s okay, baby. You can come.” He uses a thumb to rub at your clit and he bites at your pulse and you can’t hold it in anymore.
Your walls clench around him and you both groan as you unravel around him. Your arousal drenches him as you convulse around him, your walls fluttering, and his breath stutters.
“That’s it. Just like that.” He pants.
Shinsou works you through it until your legs are twitching beneath him. You fall back on the bed, but Shinsou doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, still hard and still not finished.
“Hitoshi. I can’t- S’too much.” You try and push him off.
“You can.” He orders, his voice low and a little mean.
He’s so commanding that you nod instantly, hands gripping his arms to brace yourself as you nod weakly. “I can.”
“You can.”
He picks up the pace and he’s almost purring as he drills into you relentlessly. With a few more thrusts, Shinsou comes hard with your name on his lips, his head dropping onto your chest as he spills inside you. You’re still panting as he comes down from his high, a few more lazy, slow movements before he pulls out.
Shinsou has his eyes on the mess between your thighs. He looks a little in awe. His pale skin is flushed red and his hair sticks to his forehead and he grins up at you.
“Look at that. Look what we did together.” He uses two fingers to fuck his cum back inside of you and you close your legs, pushing him away.
“Do not be disgusting.”
“We are both disgusting. And sweaty.”
He drops down beside you with a heavy sigh and wraps his arms around you. You lean into his chest, eyes slipping shut.
“I need to bathe.” You mumble. You doubt you will, though. Your limbs feel too heavy to move.
“Me too. Shall I join you?” He ponders, fingers trailing up and down your bare legs.
You smile slightly. “Maybe you should.”
Part of you still thinks you will blink and this will all have just been a dream. But Shinsou is still beside you when you open your eyes. The glow of your orgasms fades, and with it, suddenly comes the panic of what the two of you have just done.
“Oh my god. What have we done?” You shoot up into a sitting position and cover your face with your hands.
“We had sex.”
Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “We had sex. We had sex. I lost my virginity to my butler.” You splutter.
Shinsou frowns. “Don’t say it like that.”
“But it is like that.”
Shinsou tugs at your arm. “We can panic later. Let’s sleep now, yes?”
You let him pull your back down. You nod and swallow roughly. “Okay. Yes. We should sleep. While we still have bed and board, and my father hasn’t disowned me.”
Shinsou snorts. “Calm down. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
OMF.. can anyone hear me or see me.. yes guys it’s true I am alive and my fanfic are as well… I have been SO FLIPPING BUSY with uni and Eid and jsut life I’ve had no time to write and I kinda lost my mojo but I am back!!
contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 5k words — fluff. cursing. comforting insecurities. friends to secret lovers.
⭑ shenanigans with your not-so-secret boyfriend ft. sleepovers with eri, a cat eating pizza on you at 3am, your classmates being nosy, and an aquarium date.
note: your quirk is forensic sight! so ur gc name is the way it is bc ur eyes lol get it
You choke back a laugh as a very focused Eri puts yet another sticker on Hitoshi’s face.
Snacks and pillows are strewn around the inside of the blanket fort the three of you finished building moments before. Stiller than a rock, your calm best friend sits there cross-legged so that Eri can give him a makeover of unicorns, stars, and rainbows.
“Do you think he looks pretty yet?” Eri tilts her head at you.
“Like a real-life princess.” You giggle. “Good job, Eri!”
“Yay!” She happily high fives the hand you hold up for her. “Do you feel pretty yet, Hito-nii?”
“I feel so bonita.” Hitoshi deadpans, sending you two into another fit of giggles.
“You were pretty already, Toshi,” you coo, rubbing a thumb over the sticker of a cat making sushi on his cheekbone. Mr. Aizawa must have bought that one for her.
Hitoshi pretends to shyly gaze at you from under his long lashes. “Aw, really?”
His lips curve into a lazy smile, and a heat that you’re all too familiar with rises up your neck, you turn away–a little too quickly, to Hitoshi’s amusement.
“Nevermind you’re ugly.”
He laughs and the heat creeps up to your cheeks.
Such a simple sound, yet that soft, husky voice of his always manages to make your insides a mushy mess, even when you had painfully tripped over his cat, Celery, when he transferred and first moved into the dorms with your class.
The normally stoic, reserved purple-haired boy had doubled over with an uncontrollable wheeze, supporting himself on the sofa as your groaning self was sprawled across the floor.
God, they were lucky they were both cute.
Yet, you couldn’t help but smile as he reached a hand out to help you up, the other still covering his mouth.
That was the first time you made him laugh, and now, you’ve heard it so many times that you could finally stop counting on both your hands’ fingers but you still wanted more.
“Want me to paint your nails, Eri?” You ask, scooting over to your bedroom’s drawer.
You open it, your own light blue nails painted a color that reminds you of the sea against the pastel pink of the treasure box you take out. It had a heart-shaped diamond on the latch.
The heavy box was filled with a collection of nail polish the girls in your class usually used for their sleepovers as well, and new bottles, mostly varying shades of apple red, started mysteriously appearing the day after Eri said she had never gotten painted her nails before.
“Yes!” Eri’s eyes sparkle. “Can I please have matchy nails with Hito-nii?”
“Of course, sweetie.” You smile. She was adorable.
Hitoshi rubs the back of his neck. “You sure you want yours black this time, Eri?”
“Yes!” She huffs stubbornly. “Like dad’s clothes and those things under your eyes!”
“Hey!” He protests. She shares a mischievous look with you and you both giggle, catching the pillow Hitoshi gently throws at you.
“Oreo wouldn’t treat me like this.” Hitoshi reaches out to ruffle Eri’s hair and she squeals in protest, batting his hand away.
Eri holds up the oversized panda plushie he was talking about. It was comically bigger than her, and you had to bite back a laugh.
The moment you two spotted it in the claw machine outside Shinsou’s favorite cat cafe near campus, you knew you had to win it to add to her ever growing collection of stuffed animals.
With a grin, you remember the huge sigh of relief Shinsou let out when it finally fell into the chute.
“Duh he wouldn’t ‘cause you’re his twin!”
Hitoshi mock gasps. “Take that back.” And tickles her neck, barely dodging as you throw the pillow he threw earlier back at him.
“Woah!”
Except much, much harder.
“Don’t worry Eri, I'll protect you!” You grab another nearby pillow and throw it at him, which he easily catches in mid-air with one hand like it was a frisbee.
“Aw.” You pout. Mr. Aizawa was training him a little too good now.
Eri pats your arm to console you. “It’s okay I appre-shee—apree-shee—“
“Appreciate?” You offer, and her face brightens as she nods.
“Appree-shee-ate. You. For trying.” She finishes shyly.
“Aw, thank you Eri. I appreciate you too.”
Hitoshi’s eyes soften at the sight of you two.
“What about me?”
You scowl. “You can go duck yourself, Toshi.”
“Love you too.”
Eri suddenly gasps.
“Dad says that to Uncle Zashi too!”
Despite already knowing the answer, Hitoshi and you turn to look at her suspiciously.
“…Which one?”
As if he knows you’re talking about him, Aizawa yells down the hallway.
“Eri, brats, pizza’s here!”
─────────
“Can I have another hug?” Hitoshi asks coyly after class one day.
The bell had just rung, and you roll your eyes at his leaning form on the wall of the almost empty hallway.
Everyone was leaving for lunch.
Except you two, but that was Hitoshi’s fault.
“I just gave you one!”
“Oh no.” He places a dramatic palm to his forehead. “I think I’m going to pass out because of someone if I don’t get a hug in the next five seconds.”
“Greedy ass.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around his waist.
He hides a grin, shuffling closer to close the gap between your bodies.
Hitoshi smells like fresh linen with hints of sunshine, probably from his daily bike ride he took around campus before class started, and the coffee he brewed this morning.
A sense of comfort settles into your bones as the familiar scent envelopes you, and you breathe it in.
He softly tucks your head under his chin as you nuzzle your face deeper into his chest, your headache from taking the quiz in Ectoplasm’s class earlier now long gone.
“Did you know that when cats see that it's raining outside a window, they go to another window in the same room to check if it's still raining outside?” Hitoshi randomly whispers.
“I did not know that.” You giggle. His lips feel ticklish on your hair. “Does Celery do that too?”
“All the time.” Hitoshi grins. “I have a video from yesterday’s storm, I’ll show you in the cafeteria.”
“Ooh okay!”
He straightens, and takes your hand, your fingers easily lacing through his as you both start to head in the direction of the dining hall.
When you trip over nothing, he snorts, already expecting it, and catches your waist before you take a fall that will be difficult for your ego and your knees to recover from.
“Careful,” he says as you clutch onto his school uniform in relief, and you swear that already deep, smooth voice of his drops an octave on purpose, almost sending you to the ground again.
Hitoshi’s thumb is still tracing small circles on the back of your hand as the both of you join the line for the traditional school lunch. You could try a different cuisine tomorrow. On today’s menu was miso seaweed soup with a side of grilled fish and a milk bread roll along with, of course, rice.
You feel a vibration on the side of your leg, and for the umpteenth time this school year you thank UA for adding pockets to the school uniform’s skirts as you slip your phone out. The jellyfish charm Hitoshi got for your birthday last year dangles from your case.
Surprise, surprise, it’s the class group chat.
-forklift uncertified -
it’s barbie bitch
guysss guess what i sawwww
invisi-girl
IS IT TODOROKI IN A PINK TUTU
pikachew
girl what
invisi-girl
u guys don’t get the vision
i saw it in a dream last night
the rock
nah i get it dude
that would be so manly
ice spice
I would not be completely opposed to the idea
invisi-girl
SEE
it’s barbie bitch
it’s even better >_<
it’s barbie bitch
hitoshituckingyourhair
behindearwithasoftsmile.png
mochi cheeks
OHMYGOD!?1?2?2
SOCUTEEEEETES
airpods with wires
i saw that
airpods with wires
can yall not flirt before lunch
next time i’m gonna throw
up before i get to eat
sue you
AWWWW OUR LITTLE BABYS ALL GROWN UP
forensic balls [you]
FUCK U GUYS IM 17
yaomomo
exactly
a Baby :)
forensic balls [you]
yaoyao ur supposed
to be on my side </3
yaomomo
sorry my love i cannot
deny the facts </3
pikachew
Nahhh only shinsou can call her that guys ;))))
airpods with wires
wah wah wah
forensic balls [you]
one more word and i’m gonna change the gc name to fornite jiggle physics
sue you
NO
yaomomo
No thank you
my chemical romance
what a mad banquet of darkness
it’s barbie bitch
babe look me in the
eyes this isn’t like you
forensic balls [you]
try me.
pikachew
DO ITTTTTTT
forensic balls [you]
ok just bc u told me to
i won’t now
scotch tape
dayum rip denks
forensic balls [you]
also not my fault u guys
have early ass birthdays smh
shirt guy
Senior citizen core fr
forensic balls [you]
ily midoriya
shirt guy
ilyt pookie xx
kazoo-ki
Girl u aint slick
shirt guy
You’re so late omg
pikachew
bro has us on mute
kazoo-ki
shut up dunce face
kazoo-ki
How tf do I change my name
mochi cheeks
LMFAO
wiki-how
Bakugo it is fairly simple.
wiki-how
First you click on your profile, then your personal settings.
wiki-how
From there you press “Change Display Name” and you should be able to enter your name of preference.
kazoo-ki
K
better than you
Thanks glasses ig
wiki-how
You are very welcome.
kiri the rock
nice one dude!
sue you
wow egotistical much
better than you
You wish yours was as big as mine
pikachew
that’s what he said
it’s barbie bitch
omg it just hit me
it’s barbie bitch
the first person to
finally get bitches in our class
it’s barbie bitch
i’m so happy i could cry
pikachew
I GET BITCHES
sue you
yeah over the screen
we're talking irl
pikachew
leave me and my otome games alone
forensic balls [you]
real
forensic balls [you]
AND IM NOT DATING HITOSHI
it’s barbie bitch
HITOSHI????????
airpods with wires
first name basis is crazy
forensic balls [you]
fuck i mean *shinsou
scotch tape
y’all smell that
the rock
peeeyew
pikachew
smells like sum bullshiiii
kazoo-ki
Could’ve fooled me
yaomomo
You aren’t??? :(
yaomomo
But I wrote a reminder to wish
you two happy anniversary and
even bought tea to celebrate!
forensic balls [you]
….for what date
yaomomo
April 1st :(
forensic balls [you]
………………
airpods with wires
@ it’s barbie bitch we can see u
across the cafeteria u are BAWLING
eyebags
what the fuck
Hitoshi bites back a laugh as your widened eyes meet his, glancing up from your phone.
“Not dating, huh?” He grins.
You groan and pinch his arm. “I panicked okay! I didn’t know what to tell them.”
“Hmm, do you want me to?”
“I mean, only if you want to.” You shyly play with his fingers.
“I kind of like us being a secret from them for a little longer. It feels… nice.”
Hitoshi smiles. “I know what you mean.” He wrinkles his nose. “Though they’re so nosy it looks like they figured it out already.”
“Pffft, yeah.” Mina could definitely sniff out a relationship from miles away, no matter how much PDA you tried to sneakily do in empty hallways.
Hitoshi squeezes your hand in reassurance.
“I like it too.” He leans over, and your eyes are forced to meet the dark violet of his.
The side of Hitoshi’s soft-looking lips, courtesy of the strawberry chapstick he stole from you before class this morning, quirk up as he looks down at you with soft eyes, the ones he reserves for you and random cats he sees on the road.
“Chapstick thief,” you mutter.
“Oh, you want it back?” Hitoshi grins. “Kiss it off me then.”
Your cheeks grown warm. “Not here!”
“Good,” He smirks.
“I prefer keeping you all to myself, anyway.”
─────────
“What’s wrong?”
He’s crouching down so that your eyes have no choice but to meet his from your spot on the bean bag.
He gently pushes the switch in your hands down to your lap and pokes your thigh. You squirm away ticklishly.
“Tell me.”
“No.” You huff, picking your switch back up. “I just wanna play Stardew, leave me alone.”
“Darling.”
Your face flushes at the pet name, and he smirks. His secret weapon still works without fail. Hitoshi didn’t even need to activate his quirk to have you under his thumb.
“You’re not going to feel better if you keep it in. Tell me what’s wrong.”
His nails are still pink, you faintly notice, trying to distract yourself from your very attractive, very insistent boyfriend in front of you with his comforting hands placed on your thighs.
You painted his left hand, and Eri painted his right at the last sleepover you had together. She had insisted that he should match nails with her this time, since she matched with him last week.
It was already terrible and impressive that Hitoshi was a people-reader, even worse that he knew what to do to make you fold so easily and open up.
Curse you Hitoshi, you and your disposition for healthy communication.
You should have never recommended that therapist to him.
“I don’t know,” you finally mumble. He tilts his head, showing you that he’s listening.
“I just feel like I don’t deserve it.”
“Deserve what, sweetheart?” He asks. The softness in his voice is unbearable and what you've been bottling up for weeks finally spills out.
“I feel like I don’t deserve it when good things happen to me.”
Hitoshi blinks, then lets out a snort. Which turns into a full blown laugh coming from his chest.
You shove his face away and he falls on his butt, still chuckling.
“You’re making fun of me!” You say indignantly.
“Sorry, sorry, I just–” He coughs, and takes a breath to recollect himself.
“You say a lot of dumb shit and I think that's the worst thing I’ve heard you say.”
You pout. “I’m feeling very invalidated right now.” Hitoshi rolls his eyes, and his hands reclaim their spot on your skin, except this time he’s gently cupping your face in his hands.
He’s not used to comforting people, but you can see that he’s trying.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and you inhale sharply. “You’re kind, you’re intelligent, and I see you try so hard everyday. You always do a good job when you set your sights on something. Why don’t you deserve good things?”
“I don’t know.” Your gaze is numbly pinned to the silver chain around his neck, the one with a little crescent moon on it that he wears everyday, not even taking it off when he goes to sleep. The one you gave to him.
“That’s okay.”
His thumbs caress your cheeks, and you think you can breathe a little easier.
“Let's think of it this way,” Hitoshi says, still cupping your cheeks, grounding you. “It’s not about whether you deserve it or not. Do you want it?”
You finally meet his eyes, and answer with a voice shakier than you’d like it to be.
“I do. I want good things for myself.”
“Atta girl,” Hitoshi says with a proud quirk of his lips.
You stare at him, your heart suspended in your chest, feeling better but still looking a bit unsure.
Hitoshi notices this from the way you start biting the inside of your cheek, and he leans his forehead against yours. You freeze.
He smells like fruit, like freshly washed blueberries and those ripe strawberries in the kitchen in the dorm’s fridge. “That’s more than enough. We can work from there.”
There’s still a worried furrow between your eyebrows.
“Come on, sweetheart. We can go to the aquarium you love this weekend.”
He smirks as you perk up at that, drinking up the rare, shy expression suddenly on your face again, and leans down to your ear.
“You’re so easy,” Hitoshi whispers.
You grumble, you could hear that stupid grin in his voice.
“Sorry, I can't hear you with your face in my chest.”
You raise your head to glare at him and his heart soars. There was his girl.
God, his smug face was starting to irritate you more and more. "I said that if you were my husband I'd poison your tea!"
“If you were my wife, I'd drink it."
─────────
-thot pockets -
it's barbie bitch
omg guess who i just saw
cuddling in front of the tv
it's barbie bitch
youwrappedlikeaburritoinhitoshisarms.png
dating allegation #1
MINA WTF DELETE THAT
dating allegation #1
WHY R U STALKING US
[dating allegation #2 saved an image]
dating allegation #1
BRO WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON
dating allegation #1
PURPLE MINION LOOKING BITCH
dating allegation #2
ok forensic penis
dating allegation #2
who changed my user
pikachew
me
cuz u guys are NOT beating
them :laughcry::laughcry:
ice spice
I am just confused as to why
you two are sitting on each other
ice spice
When the rest of the couch
appears to be unoccupied
ice spice
Perhaps this is a new
procreation method?
mochi cheeks
TODORKIWHATHAHVDHSHA
pikachew
LMDFAOOOOOOOOO
ice spice
?
dating allegation #1
WHATTHEFUKC
the rock
never change bro
sue you
IACTAULKYLCANT BREATHE HELP
it’s barbie bitch
ME NEITEHHR
dating allegation #2
Whenever my eyebags get darker
dating allegation #2
Just know I blame it on all of you
─────────
“Celery?” You mutter, rubbing your bleary eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Mrow.” The cat continues eating the slice of… pizza? On your chest.
It looks like the one that you and Hitoshi ordered earlier after quizzing each other for Present Mic’s exam.
“I love you so much but I am so confused.”
You reach for your phone to text Hitoshi, your still-asleep hands fumbling a bit on the nightstand.
toshi <3 [12 hrs ago]
us
you [12 hrs ago]
literally us <3
toshi <3 [12 hrs ago]
want to order takeout and
watch ouran highschool after
we study for tmrws exam
you [12 hrs ago]
yes please omg
you [now – 03:24]
hey
can u explain why ur daughter
is eating pizza on my boobs
at 3am
toshi [03:30]
whar
?
toshi [03:31]
OHfMGOD
CELERU
Not even five minutes later, he’s knocking on the door to your room. You open it, and the sight of a very sleepy looking Hitoshi greets you. His already unruly bedhead is even messier than usual and you’re pretty sure he’s wearing his shirt backwards. Did he put it on before coming over?
Wait.
You blink, long and hard, banishing the thoughts of a groggy, very shirtless Hitoshi lying in his bed, with the light of his phone screen illuminating his handsome features as he replies to your text. Those four hours of sleep must finally be hitting you.
Hitoshi sees you blinking, and takes it as a sign you’re still in shock at the pizza monster in your lap.
He gives an awkward pat to your shoulder in reassurance.
“I think this is just how she shows affection.” Hitoshi stares down at Celery fondly.
The way you stroke her fur so softly makes his chest feel warm and tingly.
“Does she eat leftover pizza off your chest at three in the morning?”
“...No.”
“Hah. She said she likes me better. ” You smirk victoriously. “Isn’t that right sweetie?”
The calico cat purrs as you scratch her ears, a bit of tomato sauce under her chin. Hitoshi exaggeratedly puts his hand over his heart at this scene of betrayal.
“Seriously? Celery, I took you off those streets and raised you like I was the one pregnant with you for nine months.”
“Mrow.” She bumps her head against your hand.
“Pfft, give it up Toshi. It’s time for you to hand over the adoption papers.”
Hitoshi rubs the back of his neck. “Or we could just share custody.”
“What?” Your cheeks grow warm. “You want me to be her mom?”
“I mean you kind of already are. Look at her,” he says, eyes softening as he looks at the two of you.
Celery has her paw on your arm. After eating until her little tummy was full, she was already starting to doze off.
“She takes after me.”
You let out a derisive snort.
“Yeah you looked just like that after our binge marathon today too."
“Not in that way.”
He smirks at your confused reaction.
“Then what do you mean–”
At that moment, Celery decides it’s the perfect time to snuggle into your tank top, smearing what’s left of the pizza on her face all over it.
Hitoshi’s eyes widen. He laughs, covering his mouth.
You’ve never been so glad you chose to wear black to sleep.
─────────
“Trouble child, you’re here.”
“Hi Mr. Aizawa.” You roll your eyes. “When are you going to stop calling me that, it’s getting old.”
“When you stop getting into trouble.”
“Okay, that’s fair.”
“The kid’s almost ready.” He snorts. “About damn time. Been up since six.”
“He has?” Your eyes widen. “For what?”
Your teacher smirks. “Nerves. Isn’t this his, what, tenth time taking you out though?”
A flustered Hitoshi suddenly appears from behind him with a light pink dusting his cheeks and steers Aizawa back to the door. “O-okay dad that’s enough.”
He’s cutely dressed in a soft-looking grey cardigan over a white shirt and black wide-legged pants.
This had to be the most boyfriend he’s looked, ever, and he looked very boyfriend all of the time.
“Hitoshi?” You do a little twirl for him in your own outfit. “Fire or nah?”
He looks up from his phone, where he’s googling the bus route to the aquarium, except his eyes linger. Without skipping a beat, he responds.
“Fire.”
“Toshi, you’re staring.”
“Of course I’m staring.” He says it with a tone like 'what else would I be doing?'
You shyly fidget with the edge of your shorts. “Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful.”
Hitoshi reaches out a hand, like he hasn't just casually left you breathless, and his own eyes soften as he notices your starry-eyed look.
“Let’s go, you crybaby.”
“Damn. I was going to say you look handsome too, but I don’t remember being the one who sobbed my eyes out watching Your Name last night.”
The tips of his ears turn red.
“Shut up.”
“Was like our fifth rewatch too.”
“Shut up before I kiss you.”
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both."
‧₊˚ 🐚 ✩ ₊˚ 🌊 ⊹ 𓇼
Hitoshi’s lips twitch as he sees your eyes light up at the sight of the sign pointing in the jellyfish exhibit’s direction. “You’re adorable.”
“Thanks.” You grin. “You’re slow.”
You take him by the arm, your brain faintly registering how muscular his bicep is despite holding it so many times, and drag him along.
In their tanks, the glow of the moon jellies fills the darkness in front of them as other visitors murmur around you two in awe. Blue light reflects off the water and through the glass, illuminating your boyfriend’s dreamy features and you can’t help but admire how pretty he looks.
Hitoshi turns from watching the jellyfish to face you, fingers now lacing through yours. You don’t look away.
A soft smile flickers across his face when he catches you staring at him.
“This reminds me of when we first met.”
You smile. You remember. He was the one Mina relentlessly teased you for staring at, which you completely denied at the time.
“Why’re you so thirsty?” You remember her whispering into your ear at the Sports Festival in your first year. The both of you were sitting in your class’s designated spots in the stands.
Your eyes had widened, scandalized.
“I am not!”
“Please. You’re totally staring at him.”
“Who?”
“Shinsou Hitoshi.” She grinned. “Cute, right?”
Of course she paid attention when they announced his name specifically.
You could never remember anyone’s, and she probably saw you looking at his picture for a little too long when it appeared on the Jumbotron’s screen, announcing that his match with Oijiro was about to begin.
“Not really,” you lied, a bad attempt at feigning disinterest.
Like your eyes hadn’t been trailing down his lean figure the moment his next match started.
Or noticing how attractive it was the way he casually folded his arms when he taunted Midoriya, or wondering in your mind if his perpetual bed-head was as soft as it looks.
Mina turned to you, smirking at your slightly dazed expression.
“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind if I told him you had some questions about his quirk and wanted to talk about it after this, riiight?”
“What?” You shake your head furiously. “I mean his quirk is really interesting but–ugh Mina, no!”
“For the plot!” She waggled her eyebrows.
You nudged her knee with a huff. “I’m breaking up with you.”
“Nooo, I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Mina eyed you cheekily. “I won’t call him over.”
“Oh thank god.”
“But only if you admit he’s your type.”
You groan. “Okay fine. I think he’s hot, happy?”
“Very.” Your best friend laughs, pure happiness indeed written all over her face. You can see the matchmaking gears already turning in her head. “I just know you too well, babe.”
You roll your eyes. “Sometimes I really wish you didn’t.”
“Come on, you guys would be so cute together though.” She sighs dreamily. “Forensic sight and mind-control? Plus you’re both hot as fuck? Talk about a power couple.”
“....I think I’m going to go sit with Yaomomo instead.”
Recalling the memory, you laugh. “I know, we kept accidentally making eye contact after your second match because our seats were right across from each other.”
“That awkward prolonged eye contact in the stands might’ve been how I started crushing on you.”
You smirk. “You had a crush on me? That's so embarrassing.”
“I know.” He rolls his eyes, softly tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Worst decision of my life.”
You hold Hitoshi’s hand tighter as you step closer to his side to get a better view of the tank.
“Glad the feeling is mutual.”
You spot it before he does.
“Oh my god Toshi. We need to get this for Eri.”
He spins around from the collection of the aquarium’s official shirts for sale, a shirt with a print of a whale shark in his hands.
“Wha–oh my god.”
Hitoshi stares at the giant penguin plushie you’re holding in front of you.
It was bigger than you–no, bigger than him even.
“Not sure if it’s going to fit on the train home, but we’ll make it work.”
─────────
"Can you teach me how to draw a unicorn too, Eri?" Hitoshi asks.
You had already asked Eri before him seconds ago so you stick your tongue out at Hitoshi, mouthing ‘copycat,’ and he tilts his head down to quickly kiss your neck, making you giggle.
He still has a pink bow wrapped around his bicep from when you three played dress up an hour ago, and you fight the urge to laugh again at how silly he looks.
Eri is too focused on her drawings to care about either of you, and after she scribbles around a little more, she turns to face her older brother.
“Yeah!” She hands him a red crayon. “Okay, so first you draw half of a circle.”
Hitoshi follows Eri’s instructions.
He lifts his hand, which nearly covers the paper, to reveal a red ‘C’ that looks like it got run over by a truck.
“No, no not like that! Erase it.” She frowns disapprovingly, hands on her hips. “You’re really bad at this Hito-nii.”
“Please Eri-sensei. I'm trying my best.”
“Try harder!” She turns away with a huff, then peers over at your paper.
“Ooh yours looks so good!” Eri claps, and you smile proudly.
“It’s all thanks to you, Eri.” You reach out to fix her pigtail that was starting to slip out of the cat-patterned scrunchie, and she giggles, holding still for you.
Hitoshi grumbles. “This smells like favoritism.”
“That’s ‘cause your unicorn looks Celery’s poop!” Eri chirps. Then she runs away to the kitchen right before you double over in laughter at Hitoshi’s extremely offended face, clutching onto his broad shoulders for support.
“She said your drawing looks like shit!” You snort, and he groans.
Celery’s ears perk up in Hitoshi’s lap and she meows, looking in your direction. You hold out your arms. “Celery, you want uppies?”
She ignores them and decides to sit in your lap instead, purring softly.
“Mrow.”
“Yeah? And then what?” You coo, gently rubbing her fuzzy forehead, and her eyes close in contentment.
She mewls again, pawing at your sock and you laugh.
“Okay, okay I’ll tell him.”
Looking up at Hitoshi, he tilts his head the same way Celery does when you talk to her.
You bite back a laugh, you’re not sure who’s the cat in the room at this point.
“What did she say?” He asks you curiously.
All you do is blink slowly at him in response.
Hitoshi’s brows knit in confusion.
Then his eyes widen, a soft pink starting to color his cheeks.
Shyly, he slowly blinks back.
Suddenly, the gray-haired girl comes back from the kitchen, apples Aizawa sliced like rabbits for her on a plate in her hands.
You’re still slowly blinking at each other as she walks through the door.
hmm, can I get a shinsou smau where reader is like the most popular girl in school, and hes just SOO SOOO DOWN BADD UGHHHHH
Love you, byeeeee!!! (Mwahh x5 for ur yummilicious writing)
texting your down bad bf shinsou
warnings : profanity , mention of sexual content
a/n : okay so like…i didn’t really know what to do for a smau but like i really liked this idea…so like…like…like….also couldn’t think of a title sorry babes , love u more anon🫰
✴︎ synopsis : you’ve never been one for cliché tropes, but when the birthday of the boy you’ve been silently admiring comes around, you’re hoping he plays into it… even if you’d have a heart attack actually speaking to him.
✴︎ content : classmate!hitoshi x shy!reader, fluff, use of y/n, your honor i love them, swearing, i can't write descriptive dialogue [apologies], mention of mothballs, it's 2am
✴︎ wc : 3.9k
✴︎ a/n : yes his birthday was 3 weeks ago and what about it. also tuesday by ilovemakonnen and the number you have dialed is not in service by $uicideboy$ were the songs for writing this! [LISTEN TO TGEM./]
there was a lot to like about hitoshi shinsou.
because he's gorgeous. the unruly tufts of violet hair that sprout from his head, that you so desperately want to run your fingers through, the slope of his nose, those tired eyes lined by dark circles that remind you of a cat's, how he rarely smiles–which makes seeing his lips turn up even more special.
looks aren't everything, though. you find the thought of hitoshi shinsou being 'uninteresting' so blasphemous it may as well be a war crime. someone so solitarily straightforward might be considered boring to a boring person, but you find him endlessly fascinating. like what you assume is his love for caffeine–because you swear he always has a coffee or an energy drink in one hand, or his fashion sense–dark colors, baggy fabrics, silver jewelry. he keeps to himself so much so that it leaves just enough to your imagination.
does he like music? what does he listen to? maybe... deftones? he looks like a deftones guy. what about animals? he gives off 'animal-lover' vibes. why is he so undisturbed? is he just introverted, or is there something more?
the prestigious, well-respected class 2A welcomed him this year as an official member of the hero course, and you swear it's the greatest thing that's ever happened to you. you'd only heard him speak a handful of times throughout all of your first year, and now you figure your mind has subconciously memorized the almost resonant cadence of his beautiful voice to the point where you'd recognize it anywhere.
but you wouldn't call yourself obsessed.
maybe by the standard of others, but you've actually kept it to yourself, so the only person who knows how down you are for him is your best friend, the girl who witnessed him ask you for a pen first-hand and had to hear about it for the next week, the girl who's been by your side since you both started at yuuei, none other than kyouka jirou.
if she's the only one who knows, then how could you possibly be obsessed? to you, obsessed is obvious. it's loud, chaotic, unapologetically clingy. like... mei hatsume. that's obsessed. not to say that it's a bad thing–you love mei. she's hilarious. but if this is your standard of obsession, then anyone would say you're the exact opposite.
you've been the quiet girl since you were old enough to choose between loud and quiet. you're timid, introverted, empty corners have been your best friend from about the age of five, and the thought of finding yourself the center of attention makes you want to throw up.
the reason kyouka's mutated ears almost bled from pure yap that week your so-called 'shinsou pen incident' took place was because you were scared you had said something wrong. or... said something weirdly. or maybe the pen you gave him magically ran out halfway through using it. maybe he’d think you did that on purpose.
there's a very broad step between acknowledging irrationality and actually choosing to be rational, clearly.
you've made peace with the fact that in hindsight, y/n shinsou would never happen. why would someone so talented, so driven, so effortlessly cool fall for someone he's only spoken to once?? it doesn't make sense. there's other people gunning for his attention anyways. people who actually talk to him.
even so, having a crush doesn't hurt. at least it makes life less boring. and as kyouka acts as your #1 [only] info dumpster, she's also your #1 info giver. he did something you'd find really hot [so... existing, essentially] during training? yeah, she's telling you.
a particular six days ago, she enthusiastically informed you that his birthday was coming up. july 1st, to be exact. and yeah, maybe you freaked. just a little. you guys don't really 'know eachother', so randomly saying "oh hey, happy birthday by the way. i daydream about making out with you." would be incredibly random and mortifiyingly embarrassing. that being said, you didn't want to waste this opportunity.
an idea managed it's way into your brain three days later–and the day after that, you were hunting around the eccentric thrift stores of downtown musutafu for... something. something small, subtle. he wouldn't appreciate something big or bold, you think, and it works out because you could never keep something like that anonymous.
it happened in a gloomy pawn shop sandwiched between an empty burger joint and a scarf store. the space was cramped, the air filled way too strongly with the dusty scent of old paper, worn leather and mothballs for your liking. the frizzy-haired, fawn-nosed lady in a green cardigan working the register near the back stared you down for an uncomfortable 20 seconds before going back to whatever she was writing, leaving you to peruse the shelves awkwardly.
you were probably definitely overthinking this process. you'd stopped into maybe just short of a thousand stores before this one, searching for the perfect gift. something he'd like. you weren't even wishing it would cause him to seek you out at that point. you just wanted to make him happy, even from afar.
you were fixated on the faint grumbling of your stomach, thoughts filled with how good pasta sounded right now, eyes subconciously scanning for any chance at this little cliché plan of yours when you saw it.
like a fucking ray of glory in the deep dark depths of hell, you had found your gift for shinsou. it was a necklace–a silver chain chunky enough to not be dainty, but not so large that it draws attention. clasped to the middle notch was a pendant. a small one resembling a dagger, with a tiny black jewel in the center. this was so shinsou. it would go really well with his striped long-sleeve shirt–or maybe his radiohead tee.
whatever he'd wear it with, if he'd choose to wear it at all, it was definitely his style. so after a breath of relief and ¥3700, you exited the store and thanked god for fresh air, shinsou’s gift in your hand.
you made it back to your dorm, fiddling with the metal between your fingers like it was presented to you by jesus himself. you just couldn’t get over it. your pen glided smoothly over a small piece of paper you’d torn carefully from your notebook, writing a subtle yet meaningful note to pair with the chain as the sun set through your window.
you fell asleep easily that night, with your heart full and a subconscious smile tugging at your lips.
when you awoke the next morning, the day before shinsou’s birthday, you followed the normal steps of your routine—yet everything seemed better. like it was falling into place perfectly. they were little things, but nonetheless, you were happy.
it was the way your face absorbed your skincare so easily, how your uniform looked, how soft and shiny your hair was, the beautiful glimmer of your misty perfume landing on your desk if it didn’t settle on your skin.
falling onto the note.
that’s right—the note. you’d placed it, along with the chain, in a tiny plastic bag. cheap, but you figured it didn’t matter.
and after school that day, you stayed late. late enough to know shinsou had already gone back to the dorms. late enough to slip the bag through the gaps in his locker door.
tired. that’s all hitoshi felt right now. it seems bizarre for a birthday, but starting his morning this way is kind of the norm. brush teeth, wash face, uniform, make sure he doesn’t look like actual shit before leaving early to beef with the vending machine that always eats his money just so he can get a fucking coffee.
he’s not really expecting anything today. a simple “happy birthday” thrown in his direction from anyone who actually knows would be enough. he’s already got plans to go home and celebrate with his parents tonight and he really doesn’t need any birthday cheer past that.
he’s already going through his usual jumbled list of ‘things to do’ in his head as if it wasn’t the 17th anniversary of his ass being alive.
uhh.. finish literature assignment, study for the maths test—his phone buzzes—birthday discount from that one cafe?? that’s sick. eh.. extra training with aizawa if i have time, sometime tomorrow might work, actually-
his thoughts are cut off. there’s a small plastic bag in his locker.
did he put this there in a fit of pissy exhaustion after a particularly bad day and he just doesn’t remember? no.
the plastic crinkles under his fingertips, brows furrowing. there’s a piece of paper, and a chain.
is this a fucking birthday gift??
he raises a brow, opening the bag and letting the silver drop into his hand.
this is.. sick.
like, really fucking cool. whoever’s behind this obviously put thought into it. that’s nice, he’ll admit.
he pulls out the paper, fiddling with it between his slender fingers. a note. he crumples the baggie in one hand and stuffs it in his pocket, slams his locker shut and squints his eyes like a boomer to make out the small handwriting.
i heard it was ur birthday and wanted to do something. if i’m honest i really like u you really interest me and i’m genuinely scared to talk to u irl so this is plan b. happy birthday, shinsou ^^
- anonymous girl
p.s. this chain was incredibly like ridiculously hard to find so you better like it >:p
oh, he likes it. the chain definitely isn’t why he’s pissed right now.
he’s pissed because anonymous? seriously?? he isn’t even that scary. but he won’t blame it on that, ‘cause he knows how it is to overthink. especially if you like someone. he just… wants to know who likes him.
because he’s flattered. so flattered it’s kinda pathetic. he wants to know who gave this to him. he wants to know because this little anonymous spiel is so cliché it’s actually kinda cute.
he wants to know because deep down, he’s kinda hoping it’s this one girl he’s had his eye on for a while.
maybe he can find out. so he loops the chain around his neck, clasping it and moving the pendant to the front.
you’ve got your nose buried in a particularly immersing novel when something—or someone—delivers a harsh kick to your leg.
your head snaps up, ready to glare at the culprit [because really, you’re too scared to get confrontational], but all real malice disappears from your scowl when you see kyouka, her eyes wide.
“dude, what??”
she nods discreetly toward a certain tired, purple-haired boy taking his usual seat across the room. you stare for a moment, slightly zoned out before turning back to your expectant best friend. “yeah, so what?”
“idiot. he’s wearing the chain.” she whisper-yells, leaning over to you with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
that does it. before you can even think about it, your eyes are back on him. he’s got one cheek rested in the palm of his hand, tapping the eraser-side of his pencil on a fresh page of his notebook repeatedly. and there, peeking out from under his shirt, resting on his collarbone, is the unmistakable glint of that silver chain you’d bought for him just two days ago.
your head whips back to kyouka, crashing out internally.
“oh my god. holy shit—he’s wearing it! he likes it!” you whisper-shout right back at her, a grin on your face so wide it could probably rival all might’s.
she laughs, slapping your hand. “okay, just— calm down, you’re gonna give yourself away.”
you take a breath, leaning back in your seat and nodding. “right. yeah, you’re right. fuck, i can’t believe this.”
that whole day, the one thing dominating every other thought in hitoshi's head was 'who the hell gave this to me??'
he paid attention to anyone stealing glances at him or avoiding him. he silently questioned anyone who noticed the chain. he needed to know who gave this to him. his mind wouldn't rest until he did.
as lunchtime finally rolls around, shinsou is sat in his usual spot in one of the far corners, by the very vending machine he has generational beef with. he's staring down at his half-eaten lunch, zoned out, pendant between his fingers being fiddled with relentlessly. completely unaware of your eyes on him from across the hall.
you're sat somewhere in the middle, squashed in a booth with kyouka, mina and sero while momo, tokoyami and kaminari sit on the other side. your table is filled with mindless chatter and chewing, but your mind is elsewhere.
damnit, why can't you just talk to him?? if you had just given him the gift outright, it would've been fine. it would've made you not strangers, at the very least. actually–no it wouldn't, because what kind of person presents a birthday gift to someone who sees them as a stranger?! god, that would be embarrassing. 'cause he'd know how well thought out it was. whatever, you definitely can't approach him about it now, especially not with that note–"you really interest me"??? seriously? jesus, you're an idiot. maybe you could approach him indirectly... a little "hey, cool chain!"? no, you'd definitely give yourself away. jesus fucking christ, why–
"dude."
you're snapped out of your spiraling by a hand waving in your face, nails painted dark purple. "you good?" it's kyouka, and her voice is hushed because she knows what this is about.
you sigh, resting your head on the table. "no. i'm stupid."
she mirrors your action, facing you, and you laugh a little. "you're not stupid. you're overthinking your action. and you gotta remember that if you did give it to him differently, you'd be overthinking it the same way." she says, reaching out a hand to poke your cheek.
"i hate when you make sense." you mumble through a pout, swatting her hand away. she laughs and sits up, tilting her head down at your still-sideways face. "m'just saying. i think you made the right call. and who knows? if you're this miserable over it, you should take a step back and see if he approaches you."
huh.
you didn't think of it like that.
what are the odds of him approaching you...?
hitoshi is about one weary sigh from death. he wishes this goddamn stunt would leave his head, but unfortunately, he's never experienced this before. he's kinda overwhelmed. he already likes a girl. albeit, he's never really spoken to her, except for this one time he asked her for a pen. now he swears up and down it's the best pen he's ever used. he doesn't need another person living in his thoughts.
the final bell for the day finally rings, leaving him hopeless. after collecting his bag and walking out, the thoughts are still running through his mind.
could it be a prank?? no, 'cause they put money and thought into it, dipshit. jesus, it could've been someone from another year, as well. is he just gonna go through the rest of his life never truly knowing the secret identity of who gifted him this sick ass necklace? most likely.
in that case, he takes out the note again. reads it over again. the way they wrote it, the little faces they drew.. damnit.
everything about this dumbass note. the way it was so obviously torn from someone's workbook, yet so carefully. how the handwriting was small yet neat, the slope of the letters, how they wrote their y's, it even smells good–
hold on.
he knows this handwriting.
and this paper–it smells like... perfume.
your perfume.
you almost cried tears of pure joy when the obnoxious bell finally rang across the halls. today has been so sucky, so tiring, and all you want to do right now is take the train into downtown, absolutely ravage the convinience store's stock of coca-cola and mini pretzels, and lock yourself in your dorm–vanilla scented candle, led lights on pink, window open, watching the vampire diaries, maybe cry a little-
"hey, wait up!"
you fucking freeze.
you'd know that voice anywhere.
what are the odds of him approaching you? higher than you'd thought, apparently!
you turn around, hitoshi's steps slowing from a jog to a walk. his hair is slightly messy in that windswept way, and you swear you've never wanted to touch it more. the mid-afternoon sunlight is definitely doing him justice, highlighting the shadow of his jawline and the delicate color of his irises.
"uh.. hi." you croak, trying to play it cool. fuck, why'd i have to be alone?? i should've waited for kyouka...
he slows to a stop, chest rising and falling with steady, heavy breaths. he doesn't say a word before outstretching his hand to you.
a piece of paper.
your heart drops.
you take it. flip it over. glance back up at him, eyes meeting his. you feel like a deer in headlights.
"i'm sorry."
his brows furrow, mouth opening. he just stares for a moment. "you're.. you're sor–"
"yeah."
shit. you rushed, you interrupted him, you're nervous. is this a confrontation?? is he gonna tease you? tell people?
he blinks. "okay... uh. why?" he says slowly, tilting his head. fuck, even his mannerisms are cute. even when he's being blunt and confused.
"cause– i kinda just assumed you were here to confront me. so i'm sorry if i embarrassed you or anything, or if you don't like the chain– it was stupid, honestly, cause we don't talk or anything-"
"i am confronting you. kinda." he cuts you off. he feels like his heart just grew a size. you always struck him as the type to nervously ramble, but nothing could've prepared him for actually hearing it.
"i'm– you're- huh??" you blink a few times. now you're confused.
"not- not in a bad way. just... damn, i didn't even have to ask. you gave yourself away quick."
ouch. but also... not ouch? he's not saying it in a mean way. he sounds a little amused, actually. and it's hot.
"not that i needed confirmation. i knew it was from you."
that struck a chord. how??? how the fuck did he know? did your dumbass sign the note? you gotta flip it over to be sure– no, you didn't. good. not good! how did he know?
as if he was reading your mind, he answers for you: "it was the handwriting. nobody else writes their y's that way. it's kinda weird, actually. and... it smells like that perfume you started wearing halfway through april. the sweet one. i don't think that was intentional, but..."
my y's..? the perfume i started wearing halfway through april??! you think. has he been stalking you or something???
you blink, lips parting for a second, before speaking quietly. "that's... detailed."
he chuckles softly, glancing off to the side, his hand snaking it's way around the back of his neck [another cute mannerism you've noticed] before he moves to walk backwards, facing you. and you follow suit, beginning to walk slowly. "yeah, i guess... you could say i was kinda hoping it was from you."
your eyes widen, lips parting once again. is he serious...?
he takes note of your silence, raising a brow. "oh, my bad–" he straightens up. "uh, you interest me too." he gestures to the note. it takes you a second, but you waste no time laughing softly once you realize he's teasing.
and he smirks, the bastard. "had to say it in a way you'd understand." he twits, turning to fall into step next to you.
"this... doesn't feel real, actually." you grin, avoiding his eyes. he takes note of that, and he wouldn't dare comment on it. because he's the same way as you, except he deals with his anxieties with sarcasm over being so adorably obvious.
he nods, eyes sliding down to your face. he couldn't be happier right now, he thinks. this is the girl he's watched silently since basically first year. "yeah..? why's that?" he muses.
"cause, i dunno." you shrug, adjusting your bag strap. "i've kinda... liked you for a while. you can ask kyouka, she's probably sick of hearing your name."
his eyes widen slightly, head snapping the other way as he blushes furiously. goddamnit. he's already a rookie at this, trying to keep it together, and you talk about him? about him???
"m'not gonna ask you why you didn't say anything cause... honestly, i get it. but i do wish i'd known sooner." he says, running a hand over his face before turning back to look at you again. and this time? he meets your eyes. this might just become his new favorite sight.
"i was sorta overthinking it. i wanted to tell you, but i was pretty scared." you breathe, laughing nervously. again. you wanna just stare at him, but you figure that's pretty weird.
"fair enough." he shrugs, lips curling up slightly before he glances down at the infamous chain adorning his neck, fidgeting with the pendant once again. "i really like the chain, by the way. like, really really. this thing is the jewelry embodiment of me."
you grin at that. he likes it. thank god, he likes it. "good. it took me way too long to find something i thought you'd like." you laugh softly. "it's a little ridiculous, actually. i stopped into like a hundred different stores. and it was hidden in this eccentric little pawn shop that lowkey stank. like really bad. but it ended up working out, and... yeah."
you trail off. damn, you're talking a lot.
but he doesn't care. actually, he doesn't even think of it that way. he could spend the rest of his life listening to your voice and be happy. his eyes flicker with recognition when you describe the store, pointing a thumb at you. "the one next to the scarf store??"
your mouth opens for a moment. wow. "yeah– yeah, that's the one."
"i've been before. and it does stink. and the lady at the counter– i dunno if it was the same one, but she stared me down for like a full minute."
you gasp, jumping slightly. "she did the same to me! i was like okay, do you just hate your customers or something??" and he laughs. because god, you're adorable. he's glad you're talking. he's glad you're comfortable enough to laugh around him. he's glad that this already seems so comfortable, despite only having mutually admitted your feelings about five minutes ago.
his steps slow after a moment, brows quirking as he glances around. "...where the hell are we even going?"
"oh–" you start. damn, you were moving on autopilot. and rightfully so. "i was planning on taking the train downtown. i just kinda spaced and led you along with me, i guess. you don't have to come with."
he shrugs, facing you when you stop walking. "i don't mind coming with. if you don't, obviously."
he's gotta stop doing that. he's gotta stop being so tall and effortlessly pretty. "you can come with." you smile.
he nods, beginning to walk with you again.
he's kind of an idiot and he's got no idea where to go from here, but it doesn't matter because the shining thought to run through his head now is yeah, best birthday ever.
