#ao3 shinsou | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b3ach-bunn7 · 22 days ago

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SWEET BOY

Shinsou Hitoshi gets the practise room on odd days, and you the even ones. You’ve never met him, but the notes he leaves on the music stand keeps you interested.

Noquirk!au, band au, guitarist Shinsou

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There’s only two practice rooms in UA.

It’s no surprise. UA is a sports school. That means about ninety percent of their extracurricular funding goes to new basketballs and volleyball nets, and not to the suffering music department. You're not too fussed by it. You suppose two rooms are better than nothing. The only reason you use them is because you and your slightly overzealous friend, Hana, are both auditioning for some prestigious music school in the summer. You need as much practice as you can get, and luckily being a senior means that you can kick out the younger students if you need to use them.

Only this year, there's a new stupid sign up sheet. Apparently now, instead of the usual first come first serve system, you have to sign up for a room and get allocated them in advance. Your friend Hana grumbles beside you, and you adjust the violin case that’s wearing heavy on your shoulder.

“This is so stupid. These should be first come first serve. Why do I need to sign up?” Hana snaps.

You smile slightly, quickly scribbling in your name under hers. “Look, nobody has even signed up apart from us. And… Shinsou? Who’s that?”

Hana peers at the sheet over your shoulder. She shrugs. “God knows. Probably some loser first year who thinks he can play piano.”

“Hana.”

“What?”

You nudge her shoulder. “Don’t be rude. If we’re lucky we’ll only have him to share rooms with.”

“Whatever. Let’s go get food, I'm hungry.”

You try not to cringe at Hana’s very over dramatic reaction to the schedule two days later. She doesn’t really have any shame in yelling in the middle of the corridor, and you tap her shoulder impatiently at the looks you start receiving from around you.

“Hana. Please, chill out! It’s not that serious.” You urge, trying to push her away from the notice board she is very angrily staring at.

“No! He put us on seperate days!”

You look back at the sheet, in the scrawny handwriting of Mr Hamada.

UA Practise room timetables:

Odd days of the month: Hana Ushijima in 3A and Shinsou Hitoshi in 3B

Even days of the month: Sato Akiro in 3A and Y/N L/N in 3B

“It’s not so bad. You're sharing a room with Sato, he’s nice!” You try to smile encouragingly but Hana is not impressed.

She grips your shoulders and shakes a little. “Let’s ask Hamada if we can move days. So we can practise together.”

As horrible as it sounds, you don’t really want to move days. Hana is your best friend but she’s also a lot, especially when it comes to your music. You can only practise with complete and utter calm and silence, and she prefers to chat the whole time and comment on every piece you play.

“I’ll talk to him later.”

You’re not actually going to do that. But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Your first day in the music room is spent considerably annoyed.

You said your goodbyes to Hana, after assuring her you were definitely going to talk to Hamada today, and welcome the silence as you click the door to room 3B shut. You can hear the distant sound of chatter and commotion pouring in from the open windows, and you make quick work of shutting them all. You only have half an hour before you have to get to English, and the sound of prepubescent teens fighting over a football outside is not going to make that time any slower.

The room isn’t anything special. It’s not that big and only consists of an old piano that’s always out of tune, and a guitar hidden in a fabric black case that’s falling apart a little. The furthest wall from the door is covered in drawing and notes from students, and you won’t sit and lie that a thirteen year old you hadn’t scribbled her own messages on the wall.

And then you see it.

The wrapper of what you recognise as the schools way too overpriced sandwiches thrown on the stand for sheet music, and a tissue. Irritation immediately spikes in you, and you frown.

You know it’s that Shinsou kid. Who else? The teachers never come in these rooms, and clearly the cleaners don’t either. It’s just rude, frankly. It’s common courtesy to not litter, especially in a room shared by top people. It’s literally one of the rules in these rooms. You think about throwing it away for a second, because there is a trash can literally outside the door, but you decide against it. This Shinsou kid can clean his own mess.

But you can’t stop thinking about it.

When you take your violin out of its case and pick off the hair that’s sticking to the top. When you wax your bow, place the cool wood on your shoulder. You have to balance your sheet music on the windowsill because of your righteous decision to leave his rubbish on the stand. The piece is one of Bruch’s, and you try your hardest to run over it as best as you can, but you just can’t. His stupid mess rings in the back of your mind like an incessant fly. You’re annoyed he left his stuff there and you’re even more annoyed you’re so annoyed about it. A vicious cycle.

After twenty pretty unproductive minutes, you pull out your own lunch. You sit in the rickety chair in the corner of the room and stew as you eat the bento your mother made you. It’s then you decide that you can be petty too. You rip a paper out of your maths notebook and leave a note, balancing it against the stand alongside his rubbish.

Dear Odd day musician,

It’d be nice if you didn’t leave your rubbish on the music stands. You’re not the only one using the music rooms, and you can clean up after yourself.

Sincerely, Even day musician

Dear Even day musician,

Thank you so much for the little note, but that was not rubbish. I had a riff written down on that tissue. Also, please kindly do not leave your negative Even day vibes all over this room. You’re not the only one using the music rooms, and you can clean up after yourself.

Sincerely, Odd day musician.

You have half a mind to go and find this Shinsou guy and shove this note up his ass. He’s thrown the wrapper away, but you see now that the tissue, that he still hasn’t moved, has messy scribbles on it he’s considering notation.

You decide that after you practise your violin you’ll write a reply. It feels stupid and a little childish passing notes back and forth like this but you don’t think you’ll be finding yourself coming back on odd days to yell at him for his mess. The sound of your music leaks out under the door and vibrates in your chest. It’s loud and grating and you put your violin down faster than you should’ve.

You love music. And the violin. You just don’t think you see yourself dedicating your whole life to it, contrary to the beliefs of just about everyone you know. It just feels like you have to do it. You get perfect grades, and the teachers love you, and you’re known around school. You don’t really know how or why, but it’s just who you are. And the next step is some prestigious music school that your mother can brag about to all your aunties.

It’s fine. You like the violin. It will be fun.

You grab a pen and more paper from your bag. You sit in the same rickety chair and scribble another note.

Dear Odd day musician,

Apologies for my mistake. Did the wrapper of your panini also have a riff on it, or was that in fact just your trash? I think my even day vibes are quite positive, and I don’t see how I can stop leaving them all over the room.

P.S: If you clean up after yourself, you won’t have to read any more of my ‘little notes’.

Sincerely, Even day musician.

“We’ll be in there in like, ten.”

Hana’s voice sounds tinny out of your phone speaker. You’re laying down on your bed, violin and school bag beside you. The collar of your shirt itches your neck and you tug at it.

“Did you braid your hair like I told you to?” Hana asks and you hum in reply.

“Yes. Took forever.” You mumbled, hands twirling around one of them.

“Yes, well. It’s worth it. You look cute.”

You don’t want to look cute, you want to look sophisticated. You tell Hana that and she laughs.

“Sophisticated is overrated. And TestsuTestsu will like it. He’s got a crush on you, you know.”

You frown. You sit up, fixing the back of your hair. “No, he doesn’t.”

“He so does. He’s always looking at you in chem.”

You stand up as you hear the rev of an engine outside. You hoist the violin case on your shoulder and the hard case digs into your back. Your brain thinks of a tissue on a music stand and angry notes.

“I don’t care. He’s too loud.”

“Whatever. We’re outside.”

You wait anxiously for the lunch bell to ring. Today you’ve got a egg sandwich that sits heavily in the back of your backpack. You’ve got about an hour until lunch and until your small peace in the practise room. You have orchestra first, though, and everyone waves hello when you walk in, and Mr Hamada grins loud and bright.

“Y/N! I’ve been meaning to ask you. We’re having a school open evening, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to perform a piece?” He asks, bounding over to stand in front of you.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You smile brightly and you hope he believes it.

It’s the last thing you need to have another performance to practise for. Your mind flits to your audition, the English essay you haven’t completed and the notes on the music stand.

“Great! It’s this Friday. Is that enough time for you to practise?”

This Friday is three days away, you want to yell. But you just nod, hands itching around the neck of your violin. “Yes. That should be good.”

Mr Hamada gives you two thumbs up and makes his way to the front of the room. Hana pokes your shoulder.

“Lucky. You always get the performances.”

You sigh, rubbing at your eyes. “I don’t even want it. I just can’t say no to people.”

Hana rolls her eyes. “Sure, sure. You know you love the attention.”

You wish you could tell her you really really don’t but Hamada’s voice rings across the room to silence you all and you raise your violin.

Orchestra can’t end quickly enough. You wave your goodbyes and rush your way over to the practise room. You place your stuff on the floor and you sit, sighing. You look down at your violin and curse. You can’t be bothered today. Especially not after the hour you just spent with Hana whispering too-mean jokes in your ear every time the girl on clarinet messed up. You pull out your phone and find a recording of you playing and let it ring across the room. At least this way anybody walking past will think you’re actually using this room for good.

You breathe a little lighter. Your eyes dart to the guitar in the corner and then your latest note to Shinsou. This is weird, but you stopped caring a while ago. It’s sort of fun, if you’re being entirely honest with yourself.

Dear Mrs Even,

I’m struggling to understand why you are so bugged by my wrapper. Surely the time it would’ve taken to throw it away would have been much shorter than writing me another angry note? I know you are well known at UA for your perfect grades and perfect attitude and perfect violin plucking, but instead of being mad, get inspired! Maybe write a violin number called “Mr Odd Day’s trash.”

Sincerely, Mr Odd.

You read the note twice to make sure you're not seeing things. You ball it up in your hands and lunge it at the wall. You watch it skid across the tiled floor and, after a few choice words, pick it up and throw it in the bin. You take it back. This isn’t very fun. What does Shinsou know about anything? You’ve never even heard of him before this whole music room problem. You whip out your own notebook and start furiously writing.

Dear Mr Odd,

I apologise that my annoying and perfect vibes have ruined the serenity of your music room. Please enjoy the remains of my egg sandwich. Maybe write a song about that.

Sincerely, Mrs Even

You feel better when you drop the crusts of your sandwich on the music stand. A little voice in the back of your head warns you that Hamada might see them and you’ll get in trouble, but your revenge feels more important than that.

Your leg jogs up and down and the chair creaks below you. Your eyes flit to the guitar in the corner of the room. Without thinking, you reach over and grab it. The case is worn out and old, the fabric peeling, and you unzip the case. The guitar is used and worn out. The strings are not cut at the top and it’s heavier than your violin. It sits across your lap, and you strum.

You mess around with the strings until you find the E major scale and you pluck the notes gingerly. The sound is deeper and louder than your violin, and you waste away the rest of your lunch break playing the guitar instead.

Dear Mrs Even,

Have you been playing the guitar?

Sincerely, Mr Odd

Dear Mr Odd,

No. I play violin, not guitar.

Sincerely, Mrs Even.

Dear Mrs Even,

This is sad. The guitar is crushed and so am I. My band could’ve used another.

Sincerely, Mr Odd

The next day you and Hana check out Shinsou’s instagram page.

You’re not interested in him. If anything he’s annoying, with his stupid notes and surprising intuition that you’d been playing the guitar. You’re just… curious. You feel like you know him, even though you’ve never seen his face before. Until now, of course.

You’re both laying down on Hana’s bed, stomachs down on the mattress. Her covers are soft and there’s a lavender candle burning on her bedside table. You tug her laptop closer so you can see properly.

“Do you have a crush on him?” She asks.

“No! I’m just. I’m just curious who he is.”

Hana hums suspiciously. You watch her click around on different profiles, searching for his. You lean your head on her shoulder.

“I spoke to him, you know. I saw him walking into 3B and I asked him if you could swap days and he said no. That he liked the ‘odd days of the week’.” She rolled her eyes but you smiled slightly.

“Yeah. Sounds like him.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t know him.”

“Shut up and open his profile.”

She clicks it, shin_sou.h04, and you both lean in.

He’s cute. He’s got that rugged, nerdy sort of look you find unfairly attractive. He also looks sleep-deprived and a little emo, so it’s a perfect combination. The fact this is the guy you’ve been leaving notes to leaves a little tingle in your stomach. Hana hums beside you as she scrolls through his page.

“Hm. He’s okay. He’s in a band. He plays-”

“Guitar, yeah.”

Hana looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

You falter, face heating. “You know. His guitar, he always leaves it in the music room.”

She doesn’t say anything. The silence makes your skin hot, so you snatch the laptop out of her grasp. “He’s in a band. That’s cool. I want to be in a band.”

“No, you want to be in an orchestra. Our auditions are literally so soon.”

“They are in three months.”

“That’s very soon.”

You pause on one post in particular. He’s standing next to a boy with bright blonde hair, teeth shining as he grins widely into the camera. It’s clearly been shot on an old camera and the quality faded the edges, but they still look good. He looks good.

Hana drags her laptop back. “You so have a crush on him.”

“I do not!”

Dear Mrs Even,

I’m no fool, you know. Once again I sense your even day vibes lingering all over my guitar. So I may or may not have done the stalkery thing of coming to room 3B on your day, and there I hear it. Under the sound of your (recorded?) violin playing, the up and down scales of my guitar. So that begs the question: has my influence made you turn from a life of violing? That band position offer still stands, you know.

Sincerely, Mr Odd.

Dear Mr Odd,

Fine. I am playing the guitar. It’s a nice breath of fresh air after all this sucky violin playing. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and all, but. I’m sort of sick of it. I’ve been playing ever since I was four, and even though I have no idea how to play it, the guitar is fun. Just don’t mention it to anyone. I’m supposed to be performing tomorrow at the open evening assembly and I should be practising for that but. That’s neither here nor there.

Also, thank you for the band position offer. However, I am in the school’s orchestra and I already have my work cut out for me as is.

Sincerely, Mrs Even.

The auditorium is noisy with the sound of a few dozen people chattering. Your eyes scan over the new prospective students and their parents, your violin sitting heavy on your lap.

You don’t mind performing. Contrary to your recent aversion to violin, you love music. You love everything about it, especially the complicated melody of the song you’d picked for tonight. It felt like your responsibility, as someone who played music, to share it with the world, and you were glad you could at least do that much.

You listen as Principal Nezu rambles about the upcoming tours and whatever else principals talk about, before he turns to you.

“And now, a piece played by our own Y/N L/N.”

You smile. The audience breaks out into applause and you swallow. You know Hana is sitting there somewhere, promising to wait for you after so you can get boba, still a little jealous she didn’t get the part. Your eyes flit to the audience for just one more second to look for a purple-haired guitarist. You don’t see one, though, so you raise your violin. Your eyes shut. You lift your bow and begin.

The next note is not left on the music stand. Instead, it slips out of the bottom of your locker, and you scramble to hide it before Hana can see. Unfortunately though, the world is quite against you, and she sees it just before you slip it into your backpack.

“What’s that?”

“It’s nothing.” You say, quickly zipping up your bag.

Hana reaches forward and tries to grab it. “Come on, show me!”

“No, Hana-“

“Just give! Is it a love letter? From your big fat lover Shi-“

You shove her and she laughs. Your little back and forth is catching the eyes of a few people nearby and you think you’d die if this somehow got back to Shinsou. You shush her, quickly shutting the door to your locker.

“Okay! Shut up, people are going to hear!” You hiss, shoving her shoulder again.

“Alright, alright! What is it, though? Another performance offer?” She drawls and you roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

You slip the note out of your bag. You open it, and just like you suspected, it’s from Shinsou.

Dear Mrs Even,

Your letter makes me sad. Nobody should ever hate their instrument. Music is beautiful, and it should always be played and loved. Which is why I was wondering... if you’re sick of violin, I could teach you how to play guitar? You can come to the music room on one of my days and I’d be glad to show you the ropes. If you think that isn’t weird or anything. I’ll leave my number at the bottom, so just text me if you’re interested.

Sincerely, Mr Odd.

Your face heats as you read the note. He wants to teach you guitar? He wants to meet you in the music rooms? He gave you his number?

You don’t care. You don’t. It’s not like you have a crush on him, regardless of what Hana seems to think. You just think he’s kind of annoying. But in a funny way. And he’s attractive, but that’s pretty much it. You don’t care.

Hana gasps at the look in your face. “Wait, is it actually a love letter?”

“Not a love letter. Just a letter.” You shove it into your pocket before she can read it.

Hana huns under her breath. “From who?”

“Nobody.”

“You lie. Just tell me!” You start walking towards class and she dashes after you, linking your arm in hers. “I promise I won’t make fun. As long as he’s not ugly.”

You huff. “Shinsou isn’t ugly, he-“

You curse under your breath. Hana gasps for what might be the hundredth time today.

“I knew it!”

“It’s not like that!” You whine and she laughs.

“Sure, sure. Did all our instagram stalking make you fall in love?”

“I hate you.”

The note burns a hole in your pocket as you sit in maths class. You think about what to text him. If you even should text him, instead of working out the difficult looking quadratic formulas on the board in front of you. Your teacher drones on, his voice low and monotone. Your legs jogs under your table, and against your better judgement, you’re pulling your phone out of your bag and hiding it behind your water bottle.

You feel a little rebellious. You're not really supposed to be on your phone in class, and the thought rings in your head as you copy the number from the letter. It takes you another two minutes of convincing to send a message.

You: Hello

You: Is this Shinsou?

Was that too much? The grammar probably is. Hana always says that your texting is too formal. Maybe you should’ve mixed in an emoji.

Shinsou: gasp

Shinsou: y/n texting in class???

Shinsou: is my favourite goody-two shoes rebelling once again??

You: Unfortunately

You: This is your bad influence

Shinsou: aw shucks x

Shinsou: im flattered im so influential

You: Don’t get too ahead of yourself

Shinsou: you always text this fancy?

You: Yes

You: Is that a problem?

Shinsou: nah its cute

Shinsou: does this mean u want a guitar lesson

You: Yes

Shinsou: YIPPEE

Shinsou: today is my day so u can come on down

Shinsou: and ill teach you a lesson

You: It sounds like you're going to beat me up

Shinsou: LMAO

Shinsou: i never hit women…

You: Wow… U are so woke

Shinsou: thank u I LOVE WOMEN!

You end up telling Hana, because you're not really sure how you’ll explain yourself if she sees you walking into the practice rooms with Shinsou. She drinks thoughtfully out of her apple juice as you both walk slowly to the music rooms. The corridors are basically empty, and you smile at a teacher who catches your eyes as she enters her classroom. Nobody questions why you and Hana are inside during lunch. You’re not supposed to be, but you guess it’s one of the perks of being a ‘goody two shoes’, as Shinsou calls it. The thought of him fills your stomach with another bout of nerves, and you swallow.

“I’m nervous. Should I be nervous?” You ask, and Hana shrugs.

“No.” She pauses. “Well, maybe. I think he likes you, so. This could be considered a first date.” She ponders and you groan.

“I look like shit! This can’t be a first date.” You say, gesturing down at your clothes.

Hana rolls her eyes. You arrive sooner than you’d like and Hana pulls you back before the two of you can walk in. She fixes your jumper, wipes off the mascara from beneath your eyes. She fishes around in her pocket and holds out her lipgloss and you dutifully put it on.

“Just chillax. You overthink too much. And you look cute.” She raises her eyebrows. “And I’m sure Shinsou will think so, too.”

You sigh. “Thanks, Hana.”

She gives you a reassuring smile. “Remember I’m next door.”

“Aw, thanks, but I don’t think I’ll need anything.”

She takes the lipgloss out your hand. “No, not for help. I mean if you two start fucking in there, don’t get too loud. I need to practise.” Your face burns red and Hana laughs, walking off.

“You- Shut up.” You hiss, shoving her as she walks into her own practise room.

You look at room 3B. It’s on the end of the corridor and luckily far away enough that not only does Hamada never come check on them, but also nobody would see the fact there were two people in the one-person-only rooms.

You take a deep breath and walk up to the door. Should you knock? Or maybe just walk in. That could be rude, though. Technically, this is someone else’s room, considering the fact today is Shinsou’s day. But he invited you so that probably means he doesn’t care if you walk in. Knocking feels too formal, anyway.

Luckily, your questions are answered for you when the door swings open, and Shinsou is there.

He’s tall. Taller than he looks on Instagram, at least. He looks a little more sleep deprived in person, but the way he grins down at you makes his whole face look wholly more attractive than you feel is fair. He’s wearing an old band shirt and your eyes dart down to the chain that sits against his collarbones.

“Well, if it isn’t Mrs Even in the flesh.”

You smile slightly and walk in. The room feels smaller with the two of you in it, and the door clicks shut.

You hum. “I’m only here to make sure you aren’t littering again.”

Shinsou’s voice is deep, and he runs a hand through his hair. “You wound me, Even. And here I thought you were here to learn.” His fingers drum against the neck of the guitar.

You drop your back on the floor and lean against the wall. Shinsou sits on the chair. The guitar looks better in his hands then it does yours, like it belongs. He strums it once.

“No, I’m here for that, too. Can’t turn down free lessons.”

He huffs a laugh. “You gold digger. You’re just using me for my incredible guitar skills.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m literally in a band. That’s like all the proof you need.”

“So show me.”

Shinsou sighs, rolling his eyes playfully. “So bossy. Didn’t expect this from timid Mrs Even.”

You frown. “I’m not timid.”

Shinsou tilts his head. “You’re a little timid.”

“No. I- Okay, just play.”

And he does. It’s nothing long but it’s also nothing simple. You learn quickly enough that he’s a rhythm guitarist, and the practised way his hands fly across the guitar is incredible. And he loves it. You can tell by the way he plays, the ease on his face. It fills you with a little jealousy, but. You love the music too much to focus on that.

He finishes and you clap. “Alright. I’ll admit it. You’re good.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’m here all night.” He holds up his hands and you glance at his hands. There’s way too many bracelets that clink against the guitar.

“I like your bracelets.”

“Thanks. You want one?”

You laugh slightly. “What? No I wasn’t-“

“Have one. I’ve got hundreds of these.” He shrugs and tosses you a beaded bracelet you just about catch.

You pull it onto your wrist, and pull up the sleeves of your jumper. It’s dark green and streaky and cool against your skin. “Thank you.”

He stands, holding out the guitar to you. “You ready?”

You nod. You walk forward and when you grab the guitar your fingers brush against his.

“Should I be nervous?”

“Nah. Your fancy violin fingers should be trained enough to play guitar easily.”

You sit down in the chair, and place the guitar in your lap. Shinsou pulls over the cajon drum in the corner of the room and sits across from you. He’s close enough that you can smell a woodsy cologne and the smell of fresh laundry on him.

“Alright. Lesson one: lighten up.”

You give him a pointed glare and he laughs. “See? So much tension in those shoulders. Relax, sweetheart.”

You swallow roughly. “I thought I was timid. Not tense.”

He grins, all white teeth and dimples. “You can be both. Cute, too.”

Your cheeks flush. “Shut up and teach me. You’re so unprofessional.”

“Apologies, apologies. Okay, so you look less tense. I can work with this.”

He taps the long end of the guitar. “This is called the neck. And these lines separate different frets.”

You nod. It’s kind of like a violin, except your instrument isn’t separated by frets and lines. You just have to remember where the notes are. You tell Shinsou and he nods.

“Us guitar players aren’t as clever.”

“That I can agree with.”

“Shut it. Okay, so chords are simple. You press your fingers on the right strings really hard and you strum.”

You nod again. He nods too, hair bouncing.

“Okay, so. Press your middle finger here, pointer there and index at the bottom string.”

You follow his instructions. “Like this?”

“Kind of. Just.” His hands inch forward but he stops. He look up from your hands to your eyes. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

His hands are long and slender and soft when he pulls your thumb lower on the neck of the guitar. You feel the rough edges of his callouses as he presses over your own fingers, his other hand strumming the guitar once.

“Look at you. Fast learner.”

You smile. “Thanks.” He strums it again, other hand leaving yours.

“That’s a G chord.” You say, and he hums.

“Impressive.”

“Hm. I’m much more musically inclined than you, I bet.” You tease and he huffs.

“Show off. Come on, let’s keep going.”

You play three more chords, and with all four in total, Shinsou tells you you’ve learnt a song. It’s only after three runthroughs and his humming that you realise what he’s taught you.

“Is this Creep by Radiohead, you emo?”

“Bingo!” He cheers. “You know good music.”

“Everyone knows that song. Though I do like Radiohead.” You say, balancing the guitar against the wall.

You aren’t playing and Shinsou isn’t teaching anymore, but he doesn’t move any further away. Your knees brush against his and you smooth your skirt over your thighs.

“You do? I assumed you only listened to classical music.”

“No. Well, I do. But I listen to other stuff, too.”

The mention of classical music has you glancing at your violin. You’ve started just leaving it in the music room. You wonder if Shinsou has ever picked it up. His eyes follow the trail of your own.

“Ah. The dreaded violin.”

“Stop. I like it. I do.”

Shinsou looks at you curiously. You feel a little watched. Like he’s looking right inside of you.

“I don’t know. I love music. Really. I live and breathe it, but recently violin just feels like a job. I don’t get to love it anymore. It’s play this, learn that. Whatever to impress the people at the audition, the parents at open evening.”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “Sorry. I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Nah, you’re fine. I get it. Well, not completely. My mum doesn’t love my passion for music so I think that makes me love it a little more.”

You huff a laugh and Shinsou smiles a little.

“But you’re very good. At violin playing.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “When have you seen me play?”

“At the open evening.”

You think back to the night, the quick piece you’d played and the fact you’d looked for him and found nothing.

“Really? I didn’t see you there.”

He leans forward closer. “Aw. Were you looking for me, sweetheart?”

“No. Though I’m sure the bright purple hair would’ve been hard to miss.”

Shinsou cracks his knuckles and you wince at the sound. “I messed up the times, but I caught you at the end. You’re amazing. Really.”

You stir a little at the compliments. With the most grace possible, you get them a lot. But it sounds a little better coming from Shinsou, especially when he’s looking at you so intently.

“Yeah, well. I have been playing since I was four.”

“Stop doing that. Making excuses. You’re good because you’re good. Even if it’s getting annoying it’s obvious you love to play.”

You flick his leg. “Alright. Fine. I’m good. At violin and guitar.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.”

Your finger lingers on his knee a little. You’re about to say something, and so is he by the way he sits up a little. But the door to the music room opens suddenly, and Hana pops her head in.

You stand up suddenly. Shinsou waves at Hana while you try to look like you’re not doing something you shouldn’t be.

“If you two are done.. whatever you’re doing in here, me and Y/N have got Math.”

“Hey, neighbour.” Shinsou says and she nods curtly, stepping out to wait for you.

“She’s a pleasure.” Shinsou raises his brows and you smile.

You pick up your backpack and pull it over one shoulder. “She just needs to warm up to you a little. She’ll like you if I like you.” You walk over to the door.

Shinsou stands too. “So. Do you like me then?”

You look back at him, hand still on the doorknob. “Hm. Still deciding. Might need a few more guitar lessons before I can know.”

He grins. “Good. I’m free every odd day of the week.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This fic was very confusing to write.. lots of different media forms.. I was trying something new and I hope u like it!

I was tryna go for nerdy ochestra girl x emo band guy cause Shinsou is lowkey giving that if I’m being really honest with myself and I want SHINSOU if I’m being honest with myself

I hope u all enjoyed.. I will deffo be writing a part two, but it’s currently Ramadan so my posting schedule will probably be very sporadic..

LOVE U ALLL

#b3ach bunn7 #oneshot #fluff #bnha shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x you #shinsou hitoshi #ao3 shinsou #shinsou x y/n #mha shinsou #shinsou x reader #bnha shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou smau #mha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha hitoshi #hitoshi x reader

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 1 month ago

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Boyfriend Hitoshi Shinsou Takes Care Of You | Hitoshi x Y/N

Just...bear with me for a second...

Picture Pro Hero Hitoshi taking care of you after a long day.

You get home, you're exhausted. The office was brutal today - so many emails to respond to and crises to solve. You know your boyfriend Hitoshi is out there saving actual lives so you feel bad complaining to him over text.

When he doesn't hear from you all day, he starts to get worried. After work, he immediately heads over to your apartment to check in on you and make sure that everything's alright. What he finds is a burnt out mess. You're laying on your couch absolutely wiped - too exhausted to cook or change out of your work clothes.

"Oh. Baby." He says with a sigh, locking the door behind him. He slides off his shoes and walks to your side at the couch, crouching to look you in the eyes. You're so tired and you're crying, just generally overwhelmed by life. He sighs as he runs a hand softly across your scalp the way you like it, letting his fingertips linger delicately behind your ears. "Why didn't you tell me things were this bad?"

"D-didn't want to bother you." You manage to hiccup out.

"Baby. You're never bothering me. Ever." Hitoshi looks around the apartment for a moment, getting his bearings. "Hold on, I'll be right back." You whimper, not wanting him to leave. "I swear, babe. I'll be two minutes." You hear the gentle padding of his feet as he disappears into your bedroom.

A minute later, he emerges holding a comfy pair of sweatpants and your favorite band t-shirt. He places the bundle of clothes on the couch next to you and reaches to start undoing your blouse. There's nothing sexual about his touch as he gently undoes the buttons and lifts the sleeves off of your arms. He reaches behind you and undoes your bra as well, your breasts spilling out into the warm air of the apartment. Most days, he would cover your chest with kisses and spend as much time as possible kneading and sucking at your breasts. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those carefree sexy times. Instead, he lifts your arms up and helps you pull on the comfy t-shirt. The well-loved fabric instantly makes you feel safe. Next, he helps you unbutton your tight work slacks so that he can slide them off of your legs. A moment later, you're in your sweatpants and snug as a bug.

He drapes your favorite plush floral blanket around you and grabs the remote so that he can put on a favorite kids movie - something you won't need to think a lot about. He settles on Lilo & Stitch. He readjusts the blanket around you and leans down to kiss your forehead before making his way to your hamper to dispose of your work clothes.

You sigh comfortably as you settle into the blanket, wiping the tears away from your eyes. Your embarrassed that you get this way sometimes - overwhelmed by the tasks of the workday, by the state of the world. Hitoshi is always your anchor during these times - stepping up to help keep you grounded and safe.

It doesn't take long for the cushion next to you to sink a few inches when Hitoshi takes his usual place on the couch. You're happy to see he's grabbed his spare pajamas from your room - a dark purple thermal shirt and matching checked pajama pants. He's wearing a pair of thick grey socks that your grandma knitted him for Christmas last year, and he's got one of your claw clips holding back his wild violet hair (it's the hot pink one that says "Bimbo"). God, you love this man. He looks absolutely cozy.

"I just ordered your favorite pizza - it'll be here in twenty minutes." He says, absentmindedly focused on the movie as he tosses an arm around you to pull you close. You feel the strong flex of his Pro Hero bicep around you. You sniffle, he's just so sweet. He looks down at you, concerned. "Want me to get some tissues or a washcloth for your face?"

"No, no. I'm alright. You're just so good to me. I know you've probably had a hard day, too. I don't want you to feel like you always need to take care of me, 'Toshi." You say, your tone tinged with guilt.

"Baby, listen to me - I take care of you because I love you. You're never a burden to me. I know how hard things can get sometimes, and I want you to know that I'll always be here for you to help figure everything out. You've helped me through plenty of hard days, too. Let me return the favor." He starts to smooth his hand through your hair once more, and you feel your eye lids droop at the gentle touch. You know that he's right - you've helped him through bad mental days as well. You're partners - you support each other however possible. You show up for each other.

He knows exactly how to scritch your scalp to make you fall asleep. You feel yourself drifting - cozy and warm in his arms as he cards his fingers through your hair.

"Can I nap for a bit?" You ask quietly as Hawaiin Rollercoaster Ride plays in the background.

"Of course. Whatever you need, baby." He presses another soft kiss to your head and you let yourself drop off into a light sleep.

"Love you 'Toshi."

"Love you, babe."

-----

End.

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minnixiii · 3 months ago

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— PUMP, GLOWING, HYDRATION, BOOST !

a/n: first drabble for mha and ofc it’s my our fav boy shinso! (lowercase intended!)

prompt : rumors are spreading about a purple haired boy in school.. who knew he was so hot ?!

chara: shinso x fem! coquette! reader

now playing: STRATEGY ∙ TWICE

after the sports festival, things went pretty much back to normal. class work, exams, training, study… repeat. you and the rest of your class were standing by the lockers— clearly blocking the way but no one really caring too much about it.

“hey, we’re tryna get through back here…” a deep voice called out. iida took the initiative to alert the class, “come on everyone, save your chit chat for later! we’re clogging up the hallways.” you turn your head to see where the voice came from. you drop your bow on the floor and pick it up to peek out.

purple hair, around maybe 5’10 and tired eyes…

“it’s the guy from the sports festival…” you whisper to mina, putting your bow back in your hair. “that shinso guy, right? he’s kinda cute.” mina responds smirking at you. you rolled your eyes as you watch him walk back.

“he seem pretty hardcore… he’s in the general studies program right?” you asked her. momo heard the conversation and answered. “yes, but only cause his quirk isn’t suitable for hand to hand combat.” she answers and you nod.

you sit in class as mr. aizawa continues his lecture— paying little to no attention at all.

‘he’s just another student so why can’t i stop thinking about him? it doesn’t make sense… he is super cute though.’ you thought and smiled to yourself.

part 2?

written by minnixii 🎀 2024 <3

#my hero academia #shinsou x you #mha shinsou #shinsou smut #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #ao3 shinsou #shinsou fanart #shinsou x reader #bnha shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi x reader

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carefreecoffee · 24 days ago

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⋇⊶⊰Fluffbruary Day 22: Proposal w/Hitoshi Shinsou⊱⊷⋇

Word count: 1096,gender-neutral reader

It was a slow, lazy day. The sound of rain pattering against the window and filling the comfortable silence in the room. His eyes were fixed on the screen of the TV, not paying attention to anything but the movie. The hand wrapped around you, however, wasn’t so focused. He was running his fingers along your skin, tracing patterns and playing with your hand.

He felt your body cuddle into him deeper, chuckling lowly. He didn’t say anything, but his expression softened a bit. There was something… Different about today. He was acting gentler. More affectionate. He was almost too calm.

He shifted his body so that you were in his lap, both of his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing was steady and quiet, and his expression was almost… Melancholy.

Hitoshi looked down at you in his lap, gently rubbing his finger against your waist. The ring box was burning like a heavy weight in his pocket. He’d been planning it for weeks, but was this really the moment? Would it be right now? How would you even react?

Hitoshi’s eyes slowly roamed over you, taking in your form. You were so... perfect. Your eyes, your hair, your body, your hands, your everything. His eyes were clouded by an emotion he couldn’t completely understand as he pulled you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breathing had picked up just slightly, his body tensing. It was the right time. He knew it was the right time.

He inhaled slowly, trying to calm his quickly beating heart before he spoke up. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper “y/n?”

As you turned to face him, he could feel his heart skip a beat, not knowing if it's from the look you’re giving him or the nervousness bubbling up in his stomach. “Hm?”

For a moment, his gaze locked onto your eyes. Soft, loving, slightly nervous. Then his eyes drifted down to your lips before returning to your eyes. He held back the words he was wanting to say back behind his teeth as he looked at you for another minute before speaking.

“Just… Thinking...”

"Haha well that's never good” you playfully chide

He tried to make a joke to hide his growing anxiety, but he couldn’t find it in him. He almost just blurted it out then and there, but he held back. He was too damn nervous. Why was he nervous? It’s not like you’d say no — Right? He was trying to ignore the voice in his head.

“Hey love” He moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, his thumb running gently over your skin. “There’s something I need to ask of you.”

“Yeah sure, what's up?”

He needed to say it. Get it out. No backing out now. He took another deep breath, his voice still quiet and soft. “Just…” He began, but the words got stuck in his throat. How the hell was he going to say it…? “…I love you. You know that, right?”

Your expression softens softly at the admission, “Aw yeah 'toshi of course I do. I love you too”

He smiled softly, his expression softening more. He exhaled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against your palm.

“I meant that I love you with every single fiber of my being. Every little piece of me. And I can’t imagine me without you in my life. I can’t…”

“Shin, where is this coming from...?” you chuckle nervously at his weird confession in the evening of your shared apartment.

His expression wavers between nervous and soft, but he still has a firm grip on your hand. He gently squeezes it, his eyes not leaving yours. “I just… I had a realization, that’s all…” He says, his voice still shaky. He knew he needed to just spit it out. Just get it out there. A small, nervous smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he softly repeated your name.

“Will you,” He began, his voice just loud enough to fill in the silence of the apartment. “-Will you marry me..?”

You watch as he pulls out the small round box, his pale hands obviously shaking. You look between him and it, eyes widening to saucers, "A-are you fuckin' with me Hitoshi...?”

His heart was pounding behind his ribcage, desperate to escape. He took another breath before he spoke, his voice now less shaky but still quiet. “I... I would never joke about this, sweetheart. I’m being completely serious.”

He opened the box carefully, revealing the ring within. It was a simple silver band, a small white glimmering stone at the center. Not too extravagant or expensive, but not cheap either. It was the perfect balance. He looked up at you again as his hand fidgeted with the box, waiting for your response.

Slack jawed, you look down at it before meeting his lilac eyes, nodding after finally reeling your conscious back in. “Yes 'Toshi!”

He wrapped his arms around you in an almost desperate manner, like he was afraid you were going to disappear if he let go. He buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a shaky exhale as a wave of emotion hit him. Relief, happiness, love, affection… so much of it all in one.

After pulling away, he shakily took the ring out of the box, nervously chuckled between the two of you before you cupped his face, bringing him into a feverish kiss. He smiled against your lips, his hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

After a few moments, he finally pulled away, his forehead resting gently against yours. He inhaled slowly, feeling as if he was on top of the world. He looked down at the ring on your finger before looking back up at you. “I’m so glad you said yes…”

You chuckle, wiping your stray tears away with your sweater sleeve “Whaddya think I was gonna say?”

“I had no doubt you’d say yes. Though I’m not gonna lie… I was kinda worried for a minute there.”

You grin stupidly, pulling him in for another kiss before pulling back, your foreheads still together.

His arms kept wrapped around you, one hand on the small of your back, the other gently holding the side of your face. His thumb rubbed gently across your cheek as he looked into your eyes. He’d never felt more in love than he did at this moment, with you in his arms.

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fandomofhappiness · 2 months ago

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Aizawa Shouta & Shinsou Hitoshi Father-Son Dynamic Big Recomendation Fic List for starters and not

Hi everyone! After quite a long time, I finally post my Recommendation Fic List (the crowning glory of my stay in the MHA fandom) of Aizawa and Shinsou Father-Son Dynamic.

I always start reading fanfiction before I even finished read the original, what does that says about me?

I became familiar with a fairly common theory that Shinsou Hitoshi is an orphan with a rather dread past, which, of course, activated a huge curiosity in me. I tried to analyze the trend, and I will say that it's quite clear: People were infected with the idea, where abused Hitoshi was somehow saved by Aizawa. And so was I. I've read for almost hundread of any combinations of this trend and NOW I finally ready to present my Fic List.

Attention. I will attach UNFINISHED fanfics, but which actively (or not so) updated, because they are masterpieces.

WARNING! I do not attach stories which contain:

ships (except Erasermic and 2-3 ShinKami but they are not MAIN)

alpha/beta/omega thing

too fluffy and too family-oriented fics (there will be ones, but I don't want to make them a centre of my list

I cut Rec List on different genre sections (read: dynamics) and add fanfics from the most angst ones to fluffy ones so you can easily pick what you like most ;)

So, let's start!

fandomofhappiness's personal top

You Want It Darker by Ms_Chunks Genres: Shinsou Has Family, Gore and Murder, Detective, Mentor and Parental Aizawa Status: FINISHED (533,808 words) foh's comment: Highly interesting! Shinsou here is not represented as perfect kid or downtrodden teenager, he is the way I liked him in anime and manga: he bites, hisses, snaps, makes sarcastic jokes and does not allow anyone hurt him. Aizawa and Shinsou very slowly gain trust from each other, but that makes their relationship seem sincere, and not caricatured. Read for the detective, the non-orthodox view of the Hitoshi family and Erasermic. READ THE TAGS and be aware!

Fundamental Theorem of Heroics by NightowlRobin Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Vigilante Shinsou, Heavy Angst, Parental Aizawa Status: UNFINISHED but updates weekly (more 700k words) foh's comment: Truly FUNDAMENTAL work of all Shinsou Hitoshi stories on ao3. I'd so like to confess my true respect and love to the NightowlRobin for their most mind-blowing plot and detailising. (You will probably meet Aizawa only after 10 chapters. And it will take even longer until Hitoshi and him properly meet.) This is an epochal work that will make you believe in Hitoshi's true character and make you cry of his story because it's really brutal. I think this is the favourite work of everyone who liked Shinsou with all their hearts.

To Turn A Man Into A Stone by tanli Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Angst, Mentor Aizawa Status: FINISHED (15,128 words) foh's: comment: Even months after I read this work, I look back on it and think: the author did an 11/10 job. Just so you understand: this is the best example of how I see the relationship between Aizawa and Shinsou. It is the apotheosis of sincerity and affection. It is a test of will, deep introspection and acceptance. It performed so well that it seemed to me that the author wrote a chapter for the manga. Damn, the author did a lot better than the mangaka. If the previous two works were not so high-quality and grandiose, I would've put this one at the very top of my list.

If Lies Had A Flavor by scooter3scooter Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Erasermic Adopt Shinsou, Heavy Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eating Disorders Status: FINISHED (10,003 words) foh's comment: Perhaps one of the many angst works written by scooter3scooter, which I have reread more than once or even twice. This work is special to me, because I have never seen such an interesting look at the consequences of Shinsou's stay in an orphanage. Complex and emotional work. It is truly an honour to get acquainted with such a vast problem of humanity as eating disorder through this fanfic.

crybaby by Brachydios Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Erasermic Help Shinsou, Heavy Angst & Eventual Comfort, Canon Divergence Status: FINISHED (51,219 words) foh's comment: I've read this work more times than I can remember. Brachydios came into my life with this incredible work and tore me apart from the inside. I believe in every detail they describe, every character move is justified. I want to sympathize with Shinsou over and over again. One of the best Quirk-Shenanigans trope that has brought 1017 people to tears - be the next one. The performance is 100 of 10.

How It Goes by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Erasermic Adopt Shinsou, Heavy Angst & Eventual Comfort Status: FINISHED (20,021 words) foh's comment: This is one of the best written Foster Kid Shinsou stories ever. Hitoshi's adaptation, his thoughts and feelings, his panic, his fear of going back to the orphanage are described in a deep sincere way here. It's a heartbreaking story about the fear of punishment, taking consenquences and family. It was very personal for me and I hope you get a lot emotions after reading it.

Faith by slightlycrunchy Genres: Mentor and Parental Aizawa, Anxious Shinsou, Hurt/Comfort, School Situation Status: FINISHED (2,651 words) foh's comment: This work is also quite personal choice of mine. I wouldn't say it's grandiose, but it's very emotional for me. For the kid who worries about grades all their life, who is afraid to make a mistake, who is afraid to lose everything because of one mistake and who doesn't know how to accept their failures. I ask you to read this if my words resonate in your soul. This is the truth that we all need to hear.

Absolute Tops

Point Blank by Cobbiest foh's rec: an interesting, intriguing and beautifully written Shinsou's journey to become a part of Erasermic Family (and hero)

Deathworlders to the extreme! by AquaStarDark foh's rec: that's the funniest, most captivating and rocking people-are-space-orcs thing that I've read, really worths reading

I Would Understand by deafmic foh's rec: that is the first things first to read if you're new here, but tnh I wasn't ready for this work and dropped it once or twice before I finally made it and read it, it's really really good, but I wouldn't recommended as first-to-read.

Back to the Nest by Mags_Pie foh's rec: such a sweet thing about children and their parents. I was smiling so much.

Everything is different (since you've been around) by Plasmapause foh's rec: and THIS is how I see the best written relationship between Shinsou & Aizawa AND Shinsou & Yamada, they're building trust and becoming family very slowly BUT you really believe in these life situations that happen to Hitoshi, it is very sincere and touchy work.

It's not always easy. by ethgri foh's rec: and THIS is the HEAVIEST work I've read and really recommend it. The emotions are real and naked, I practically felt the same pain. Please be ready for heart journey, this is a brutal masterpiece.

Herding Cats by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather) foh's rec: the COOLEST detective wotk, have nothing to say - just read it.

Margay by Oceanbreeze7 foh's rec: one of best ever written Shinsou.

QueNouilleCroustillante (the author of AUs that you won't forget: you may know theirs Bright Stars, but I beg you to read all of their works)

deafmic (you guys do know deafmic, that's deafmic's section for Aizawa and Shinsou, it's all too fucking good)

Mentorship Dynamics

More than a cry by Assassin Bug

Stubborn choices by Madaver

Not In The Job Description by ididntneedanewfandom (prettyvk)

Voices by SquirrelWriter

mind break by baggytshirtsandtiredeyes

The Lilac Garden by Mars_is_Gone

the night was a gelid, bitter, and biting thing by sonrissa

Countdown by Mags_Pie

polished doubt, fake sentiment by s_beth

Consequences by 22FluffyTheSpider123

Legacy by the_crownless_queen

Aizawa's Warmth by LoveableMink

Hitoshi Shinsou's Not-So-Smart Training Method by maarvehl

Keep Him Safe by Mags_Pie

stealing is bad? by borlios

Learning Curve by Cyborg_Franky

Play Along by eillo

from one foot to the other by ohwickedsoul

Family Dynamics

So this section I prefer to divide in two subsections:

fanfics where Shinsou is heavely traumatised and learns how to handle it with Eraser(-mic) help (Section A)

fanfics where Shinsou traumatises world around him and still learns how to handle it (Section B)

P.S.: section B comes first, because I love how authors perform Shinsou. They captured his audacity, intelligence and rebelliousness, he's learning from his traumas but does it shitty, and that is really interesting.

Family Dynamics Section B:

When the Darkness Fades by BlueCats

Growing Up (is harder than it looks) by BlueCats

Concerning (Some-)Things by Tododorkey (ApolloBlackwood)

The Beginning of Always by meow_z_z_z

First Day of School by Jyxnie

Split Lip; Silver Tongue by CreamcheeseBagel

Unforgettable by deafmic

A Lesson in Vengeance by Smurfee

somewhere in my heart of hearts (i knew it all along) by bototyelenol

Call to Eraserhead by sukeruton

surviving on elevated cortisol and spilt coffee by Crykea

How to Win the Sports Festival: A Step by Step Guide by mhwright

Hitoshi Shinsou's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days by Princeliest

Tight-Lipped Belief by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather)

House of the Rising Sun by caprisunontherocks

Family Dynamics Section A:

Just A Phone Call Away by odymcbea

Twist My Words by CreamcheeseBagel

Take Care (of me) by scooter3scooter

it’s in the way he- by scooter3scooter

masterpiece of nature by Brachydios

spare the rod by Brachydios

Not Today (Tomorrow it May Change) by deafmic

You're an Alien? by Badum_tsh

Pardon My Presence by ShiDreamin

Everything Will Be A-Okay by nikouji

Lucky Cat by deafmic

The Misadventures of the Yamazawa Family by ComplicatedSquishy101

Home Alone by fecklessphilanderer

a voice your body jumps to callin' out your name by sparrowsAce, wander_wren

Last (First) Adventure by deafmic

You've Got A Heart As Loud As Lions by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather) (warning! this work contains sexual abuse. I felt it was a difficult decision to include this here, as it is an incredibly complex topic and also incredibly important. This work is written with such respect and love, with such sensitivity, I cannot even begin to express it in words. Please, if this topic is disturbing and triggering to you, please be careful to read it.)

This concludes my top list. I finished reading about two months ago and plan to return soon and see what new and good is being written along this Father-Son trope. If you have any other cool works that are not presented here and you want to share them, send them into comments. I would be very glad! Thank you for attention!

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #present mic #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #erasermic #hizashi yamada #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #mha shinsou #ao3 shinsou #erasermic family #dadzawa

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whenanafallsinlove · 9 months ago

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SHINSO HITOSHI; - rain comes after a long day of training fluff﹗

﹗warnings: none :D

a/n: I couldn't take this thought out of my head, so I wrote it down. Comment your thoughts and remember my asks and dm's are open!

Imagine training all day under the summer sun. Eventually, the afternoon comes, and with it, a group of clouds that forecast a storm. You start to feel a cooler breeze in your hair, but you and Shinso decide to stay a little longer, just for the sake of being together.

When you least expect it, the rain drops start to fall, their intensity escalating rapidly. That's when Shinso and you decide to return to the dorms.

The heavy rain and the strong wind make both of you start to run; the emotion of the moment makes you start to laugh, and Shinso suddenly takes your hand in his.

You feel like you could cross through a whole huricane this way, laughing with your favourite person holding you.

You keep laughing once you make it to the entrance of the dorms, both of you gasping for air after the high-speed run. Unaware that you're still holding hands, you can feel the intense eye contact along with the sentiment that lingers.

Suddenly, Shinso crashes his lips against yours. It's passionate and sweet, just like the rain that is still soaking you wet. You embrace his neck, bringing him closer. He grabs your waist for stability, and when you break the kiss in order to breathe, he lays his forehead on yours.

The sounds of the storm make his words sound like a whisper, but you are still able to hear,

"I love you."

#hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha #bnha shinso hitoshi #ao3 shinsou #mha shinsou #shinso hitoshi #shinsoooo #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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gummieturtle · 14 days ago

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fic recs of the week:

short end of the stick is the sharpest by sunsailrr

MHA, Incomplete, 4 Chapters, 24,153 Words

Footage of Shouto's "training sessions" with Endeavour get leaked to the press. Shouto is unaware of this until he's back at the UA dorms and videos of his own abuse are being broadcast on the nightly news.

🐟🐟🐟

Absent Calls are Whatever by StarryMillk

MHA, Complete, 5 Chapters, 14,653 Words

Shinsou has neglectful parents, he thinks it's normal.

🐟🐟🐟

One Shot, Two Shot, Three Shot, Four by scrawly_times

MHA & JJK, Complete, 1 Chapter, 9,770 Words

Megumi gets reincarnated as Shinsou. Between the combined trauma of this life and his last, he's more than a little suspicious when two pro heroes claim they want to foster him.

🐟🐟🐟

If I could burn this town (I wouldn't hesitate) by Variscite

JJK & MHA, Incomplete, 15 Chapters, 61,147 Words

Gojo figures out dimension travel in order to escape from the prison realm, managing to portal himself to a random alley. Shinsou was just trying to follow a street cat he saw on his way home, and instead found a guy passed out in the alley covered in blood. What the hell is he supposed to do now?

🐟🐟🐟

lost in translation by critrate

JJK & MHA, Complete, 7 Chapters, 16,654 Words

When Gojo is finally released from the prison realm he realises that four centuries have passed in the real world. He comes to in the middle of a battle with this "Overhaul" guy who clearly thinks Gojo is some kind of genie in a bottle. Also this white haired kid with a horn seems to have latched onto him and isn't letting go. Does this make him a dad now?

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wildechildwrites · 7 months ago

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Relax

Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Depression, self-esteem issues, mind control (not in a bad way but it's in there)

No use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Summary: You haven't left your bed in days, too depressed to get anything done. Shinsou stops by your apartment to check on you and helps in his own way.

A/N: Wrote this because I've been too depressed to get out of bed, forgive any mistakes or ooc I didn't even really want to post it in the first place.

AO3 Link: Relax

You think you’ve hit a record for continuous hours spent in bed, and probably permanently fucked your kidneys because you don’t even have the energy to get up to use the bathroom. The floor of your room is disgusting, and dishes are piled up in the kitchen. You know you smell, and that there’s so much work for you to do, deadlines you’ve barely managed to avoid by calling in sick to the hero agency you do secretarial work at, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

There’s a knock on your door, but you just ignore it, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You don’t want to see anyone, and you’re not expecting to anyway.

Whoever is at your door doesn’t stop, knocking harder and more insistently. You even hear your door knob jiggle, which spurs your anxiety on enough to get you to drag yourself out of bed. Your legs feel slightly wobbly, the inactivity of the last few days catching up to you as blood flows through your limbs. Catching your own reflection in the mirror makes you wince, but it’s a lost cause you’d rather not address. Whoever is knocking hasn’t stopped, and you yank open your front door irritably. If it’s some stupid solicitor–

Your jaw drops at the sight of one of the heroes from your agency, Shinso Hitoshi, standing outside your door. He’s dressed for patrol in all black, wrapped in his scarf, his voice modulator hanging loosely around his neck. His hair is wild as always, purple locks sticking in all directions, and he scans your form quickly, as if checking you for visible injuries. You remember how disheveled you look and your face heats up.

“What are you doing here?” your voice is hoarse from disuse and your most recent crying jag, and you immediately wince at the way you sound, but Shinsou’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’ve come to check on you. I heard you were ill.” His tone is blandly neutral, as though it’s something that he does all the time, like you’re not just some stupid underling he’s contractually obligated to tolerate. His violet eyes narrow. “You’re not sick though.”

You shrug self-consciously. You don’t understand why he’s here. You’re friendly at work, going out of your way to make conversation with the normally reserved hero, but you’ve never spent any real time together. You’re not sure what made him decide a house visit was in order. He definitely has more important things to do than checking up on you, and now you’re just wasting his time. You wrap your arms around yourself.

“I just needed a day off.” You step backwards, going to shut the door. “Thanks for checking on me.” Shinsou’s foot shoots out, wedging the door open. There’s a beat as you two stare at each other, your mouth open in surprise.

“You’re not doing well,” Shinsou says, a frown on his face. He pushes your door open, and before you can protest, pro-hero MindJack has crowded into your disgusting apartment. You’re pretty sure it’s only because his poker face is so good that he doesn’t grimace at the mess, just stares at you, a crease in between his eyebrows. Humiliation burns in your chest. Now he knows you’re a gross waste of space, and he’ll probably tell everyone at work that you can’t even manage to keep your apartment clean.

“Oh, little one,” he sighs. You pray for a black hole to spontaneously appear and swallow you up, but don’t get any such mercy. “You need tea,” he says firmly. “Tea, and then you’re going to tell me what’s making you depressed.”

Shinsou heads towards your kitchen with a strange amount of confidence for someone who’s never been in your apartment before, ignoring the dirty dishes piled in the sink in favor of the kettle.

Part of you knows you should protest, but you can't bring yourself to care, scraping the bottom of the well and coming up empty. You shove the pile of clothes strewn on your couch to the floor and sink into the cushions, your eyes on the hero in your kitchen. Maybe you’re just having a really weird dream.

All of your mugs are dirty, so Shinsou washes your favorite, plucking it out of the stack. You wonder if it's a part of his quirk to pick up on things like that. He even remembers how you take your tea, cradling the mug gently in both hands and plopping down beside you, sinking into your couch, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. Your fingers brush against his own, thin and unnaturally warm from the heat of the drink as he hands it to you. You're reminded of the last time you saw him.

You've got two full trays of coffee balanced precariously in both hands, fighting a losing battle against flimsy cardboard and gravity. Your face is furrowed in concentration, your eyes fixed on your full hands when someone plucks the trays out of your grasp with nimble fingers. Your head shoots up, and you're about to protest when you see a pair of familiar purple eyes on yours. They’re beautiful up close, blue flecks making them seem almost periwinkle in the fluorescent office lights. Bashfulness hits you like a tsunami, and you try to tamp it down.

“Seems you've got your hands full,” Shinsou comments dryly. You smile and shrug, flustered by his proximity.

“All in a day's work.” You bite your lip, feeling awkward. “I um, I got you one too, even though I wasn't sure if you'd be in today. You drink it black right? Dark roast?” Deftly, you pluck his out of one of the trays, then hold your other hand out expectantly. “Trade you?”

Shinsou stares at you intently, his expression unreadable. An odd shiver runs down your spine, like cold water dripping through your veins, and there’s a beat of silence before he finally responds, like he had to reboot.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. He hands you one of the trays and accepts the warm cup from your hands, fingers brushing against yours. Despite your protests, Shinsou insists on helping you with your errand, trailing behind you to the meeting room you’re headed to.

You pass out the drinks quickly, ignoring the odd stares that come with having a purple haired shadow lingering behind you, obediently holding the tray as though it’s the most important part of his day.

Shinsou doesn’t speak until you're both out in the hallway.

“You didn't get yourself anything.” There's a slight crease in between his eyes. It's adorable, the singular sign of concern in his placid expression. You’d like to reach out and smooth it out with your thumb.

“They ran out of the tea I like,” you say, trying and failing to not sound like you’re pouting. Shinsou hums in acknowledgement. He’s suddenly distracted, his mind obviously elsewhere as he shoots you a vague goodbye before abruptly turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction. You smile to yourself. Sometimes the heroes were so odd.

After your lunch break, a cup of tea appears on your desk. You don’t see Shinsou again, but you can’t keep the smile off your face for the rest of the day.

You’ve sat in silence for at least twenty minutes, unsure of what to say. You wish Shinsou would just leave, but you’re not brave enough to say so. You just want to be left alone. The idea of talking about your pathetic problems with someone who has real responsibilities is mortifying. Shinsou seems content to remain unnervingly quiet beside you, relaxing on your secondhand couch.

“I’m not even sad, really. I’m just bad at being a person,” you finally say. “I fuck up everything and I'm going nowhere.” Your head thunks back against the couch cushions. Shinsou is staring at you, and you wish you could just disappear, but the floodgates have been opened, everything that’s been weighing you down spilling out.

“It’s so exhausting to even just be alive. I feel so overwhelmed and stressed constantly about the most miniscule things. I wish someone would tell me what to do because I seem to be incapable of making decisions, even with little things like what to eat and how to organize my closet. Every choice I make is the wrong one.” You sniffle, desperately fighting back the threat of tears.

There’s a quick change in the placid expression on Shinsou’s face, a ripple in the still waters of a pond.

“I could help.” His voice is hesitant but his gaze is sharp, lilac eyes pinning you down. You run a hand through your greasy hair absentmindedly, confused.

“How?”

He stares at you with a deadpan expression until you realize what he’s implying. Duh.

“I could… make some decisions for you. Help you be productive.”

You've never seen a mind altering quirk in action. Your curiosity sparks, and you push yourself to sit up.

“Can you just tell me to… not? Be depressed?” you ask.

Shinsou tilts his head, a small frown on his face. “It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. But I might be able to make you feel better. At least temporarily.”

The silence while you mull over his offer is tense. You don't want him to use his powers superfluously. You're not sure if his quirk has limitations, but you don't want to exhaust it for a stupid reason like this.

“I can't ask you to do that.” You say.

“You're not asking,” he replies firmly. “I'm offering because I want to help. It'll–” he hesitates, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I've heard that it's not bad, the sensation of it.”

You stare at him, absentmindedly chewing on your lip. Nothing can make you feel worse than you do right now, you reason. Maybe you can get him to make you clean. Or fill out bills.

“How do we start?”

Shinsou looks surprised, then pleased, his eyes warm. He shifts closer to you, and you catch the scent of cologne, light and clean. Your heart gives an odd stutter.

“Are you going to be good for me?” His voice is barely a whisper. Heat rises to your face at the question, warmth kindling low in your stomach. You ignore your own reaction, focusing on his question.

“Yes Shinsou,” you reply. His mouth curves up, his demeanor changing instantly, slipping on intensity like a glove. A long arm drapes across the back of your sofa, boxing you in, closing the gap between you. He's bigger than you realized, so close like this, wiry muscle covering his slim form. His eyes are dark and deeper than you've ever seen them, like a twilight sky. You can't look away, a rabbit caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake.

“Relax,” he orders, his voice silky smooth but impossibly firm. The words have an immediate effect, melting into you, tugging at your brainstem. A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel the tension in your body unfurl, like you’re slipping into a warm bath.

There’s a part of you that’s panicking, a jerk of animal instinct that fights against the downy sensation that’s settling into your mind. You try to quiet the protest. You want to be good for Shinsou, want him to think that you're good. He sees the conflict in your expression and leans impossibly closer, a gentle hand reaching up to tip your chin towards him. Your eyes drop down to his mouth, and his breath catches.

“You’re doing so well,” he says quietly. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but I’d never hurt you.” He cocks his head, voice slipping back into a more authoritarian tone. “Now, go take a shower and brush your teeth.”

The words have an instant effect on you, pulling an invisible string. You jerk to your feet, unsteadily beelining towards the bathroom, his little marionette doll. Shinsou rises as well, heading towards your bedroom.

The first time you meet Shinsou is in one of the many break rooms of the agency you work at. He strolls in, and you have to make a concentrated effort from keeping your jaw from dropping. He's tall and handsome, his surprisingly delicate features thrown off by the dark circles under his eyes. The coffee you're pouring overflows onto your hand in your distraction, and you curse quietly under your breath, spinning around to grab some paper towel to clean your mess.

“Careful, the coffee's hot,” a dry voice speaks from behind you. It's low in an unexpected way, appealing despite his lack of inflection. You let out a scoff at his comment. You go over a mental list of the heroes at your agency, trying to pinpoint who he is.

“You're MindJack, right?” you finally ask, turning back to face him, your curiosity getting the best of you. He looks surprised.

“You know who I am?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve seen what you can do, read your file and stuff.” You're desperately trying to come off as nonchalant, throwing your shoulders up in an exaggerated shrug. Hopefully he doesn’t think you’re a stalker or anything. You clear your throat. “You’ve got a pretty interesting quirk.”

“Interesting is a kind way to put it, I believe.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it. You read the sudden tension in his shoulders, the way his lips thin. “Most people think it’s a villainous quirk to have.”

You roll your eyes. Morons.

“People are just shitty about it because they’d probably be evil if they had your power,” You say, trying to sound matter of fact. “If anything, it just proves you’re a better hero, you resisted the pull because you’ve got strong morals.”

You smile at him, and he returns it, a quick crescent moon flash of teeth that has you ducking your head.

“I guess I’ve never thought of it that way,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

Shinsou found your stash of clean sheets and is making your bed when you walk into your bedroom after your shower, squeaky clean and wrapped in a towel. He turns to you, and you see his cheeks go pink, his eyes trailing down your form before shooting back up to your face with a guilty expression. Shame rushes through you, disturbing the detached serenity you feel. You should've told him you needed to change, instead of barging in practically naked. He's being so nice, and you’re ruining things like always. You can feel the corners of your mouth turning down, anxiety fighting against the artificial calm Shinsou has coached your mind into.

He clicks his tongue, matching your frown with one of his own. “I’m sorry, I lost focus. You’re alright, relax for me.”

It’s an odd sensation, a roller coaster drop and then you’re back to tranquility. He smiles at you with that half crescent flash of teeth. Your knees feel weak.

“I’ll go start the dishes while you put on some fresh clothes and start some laundry. Sounds good?”

The sun's dipping low in the sky, the shadows growing long as you and Shinsou fold the mounds of laundry you've finished. Time feels strange, chores that normally take hours slipping by in moments, the sound of Shinsou's voice filling the silence and echoing in your head. He tells you about becoming a hero, about training and about work. You like the way his voice sounds, the lack of inflection giving way to little tells, peaks and valleys in his speech pattern that you’ve never picked up on before.

He's propped himself against your bed, making quick work of the pile of socks he’s folding, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he concentrates. You're struck with the soft domesticity of it all, the compassion of Shinsou taking so much time to help try to pull you out of the hole you’ve found yourself in. Gratitude overwhelms you, your chest tight with it.

You don't realize there are tears running down your cheeks until Shinsou looks up at you, and lets out a soft gasp, abandoning the pile of socks.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. “Did I push you too much today? Did we do anything you didn’t want?” He’s so close to you, hands hovering hesitant around your face, desperate to comfort but afraid to close the gap. You shoot him a watery smile, wiping your eyes before you pull him into a tight hug. He freezes at the contact, a heartbeat of surprise before melting against you, long arms wrapping around your body.

“You're just so nice,” you say, voice muffled against his chest. You feel his lips brush against the top of your head softly. You don't feel better, necessarily, the empty hole in your chest still present, but you feel less heavy. Your apartment looks great, and your to do list is down to an almost manageable level. He’s done so much more for you than you can express, so you just hug him tighter, burying your face into his neck.

You want to stay like this forever, huddled on your bedroom floor, cradled in each other’s arms. The warmth of the moment is shattered by the ring of his phone.

Being a hero is a ceaseless calling. He answers, and you try to convince yourself that the curt note in his voice is disappointment at the interruption. You pull back and pretend not to eavesdrop, schooling your face into a neutral expression for when he hangs up, regret coloring his features.

“I have to go,” he says, and you muster a smile.

“I’ll walk you out.”

MindJack stands in your doorway for the second time tonight, lingering in the warmth of your apartment. You’re back to feeling stressed, hyper aware of the vulnerability he’s seen today. You hope he doesn’t say anything to anyone. You hope he still likes you after all of this. His next sentence catches you completely off guard, your own self doubt totally off base.

“I'll stop by to pick you up for work tomorrow morning,” he says, his voice almost casual. There's a soft pink to his cheeks, and you feel an answering heat rise to your own. “Unless you’re planning on calling in sick again.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” You feel like you’ve put him out enough tonight already.

“I’d like to.” Those purple eyes have you pinned again, and you feel yourself nodding without thinking. Before you can blink, he leans into your space, wrapping a long arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and pressing his lips to yours in a fierce kiss. His mouth is warm and soft. He nips at your bottom lip and you quietly gasp. He takes advantage, deepening the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, his tongue sweeping against yours. You reach your hands up, weaving your fingers through his hair, and he lets out an appreciative groan when you tug him closer. His phone buzzes again and he pulls away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says breathlessly. You don’t know how to tell him what a difference he’s made for you. You’ve got so much you’d like to say to him, but you know he has to go. He’s stayed longer than he should already.

“Thank you,” you say simply. You hope he understands the true weight of your appreciation. You gaze tenderly at each other for a moment before he reaches a hand out, fingers ghosting against your cheek, then slips out of your apartment.

#reader insert #gender neutral reader #my hero academia #mha shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #this feels weird to post because it's not cod but it's my writing blog and y'all are subjected to my whims #tw depressive episode #mha x reader #things have been so bad lately am I right ladies #hitoshi shinso x reader #ao3 shinsou #shinsou hitoshi

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aikrus · 3 months ago

Text

a haunted house (with a picket fence)

He knew it was going to be an adjustment. In the foster home, it always had been, and being a new addition to someone's family was something he was quite used to.

He knew there would be growing pains, but nothing warned him to be worried about sitting cross-legged on the last bar-stool table eating cereal out of his ramen bowl.

Shinso honestly wasn't sure what did it, but in an instant, Aizawa-san's face turned cold and tired, and he walked away.

Yamada-san was similar in a way. He would awkwardly chuckle and walk backward until he could escape sometimes, but mostly, he tried his best.

Still, it was almost as if they were playing a game with him. They'd lightly suggest an activity for them to do with bated breath, like he was crossing a land mine.

Shinso wasn't sure what caused them so much stress and yet knew to abstain any burden of guilt from falling upon himself.

Later that evening, Shinso sat in his new room. It was bigger than any space he'd ever had to himself before, with clean walls painted a soft gray and furniture that looked sturdy and functional. The bed was already made—something Yamada-san had insisted on doing before Shinso arrived—and there was a desk by the window with a view of the street below.

He didn’t hate it here. It was just… different.

The door creaked open, and Aizawa stepped in, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Shinso tensed reflexively. He wasn’t sure if this was about the cereal incident or something else entirely.

“You settling in okay?” Aizawa’s voice was low but not unkind. He lingered by the doorway, clearly uncomfortable.

Shinso shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Aizawa nodded, looking down at his feet for a moment. Then, as if gathering courage, he spoke again. “If you need anything, you should… tell us. We’re not used to this either, but we’re trying.”

“I know,” Shinso replied, his voice steady but distant. “Thanks.”

There was an awkward silence before Aizawa nodded again and left the room. The door clicked shut, and Shinso exhaled slowly, slumping against the headboard of his bed.

Yamada’s approach was entirely different.

The next morning, Shinso came down to find Yamada dancing—yes, dancing—in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and singing along to some ancient rock song.

“Good morning, Shin-man!” Yamada greeted him with a wide grin. “Hope you’re hungry! I make a mean pancake.”

Shinso hesitated in the doorway, unsure how to respond. He’d never met anyone so… exuberant.

“Uh, morning,” he mumbled, moving to sit at the counter.

Yamada slid a plate of pancakes in front of him and beamed. “There you go! Syrup’s right there. Oh, and Aizawa’s probably going to grumble about the mess later, but don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up.”

Shinso nodded and started eating, the awkwardness palpable. Yamada didn’t seem to notice, though, continuing to hum and talk about random things: a new album he’d found, a stray cat he’d seen outside, plans for dinner.

It was overwhelming, but… not bad. Different.

The days blurred together after that, filled with small, strange moments that slowly chipped away at the walls Shinso had built around himself. Aizawa’s quiet attempts to connect, Yamada’s boundless energy and enthusiasm—it was all so unfamiliar.

One evening, Shinso found himself in the living room, sitting on the couch with Aizawa and Yamada. They’d invited him to watch a movie, and though he’d initially planned to decline, something in Aizawa’s expression had stopped him.

Halfway through the movie, Yamada’s loud commentary had Shinso stifling laughter, and Aizawa’s dry retorts only made it worse. For the first time in a long time, Shinso felt… something warm. Something close to belonging.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but maybe—just maybe—this could work.

But cracks began to show.

One evening, Aizawa came home late, exhaustion etched into his face. Shinso had left his training gear scattered in the hallway—a mistake born of distraction rather than defiance. Still, Aizawa’s patience snapped.

“Is it that hard to clean up after yourself?” he snapped, his voice sharper than usual. “We’re not here to babysit you.”

Shinso froze, his throat tightening. “I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Yamada stepped in quickly, trying to diffuse the tension. “Hey, hey, it’s not a big deal! I’ll help clean it up—”

“That’s not the point,” Aizawa interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He needs to take responsibility.”

Shinso didn’t argue. He didn’t apologize either. He simply picked up his gear and retreated to his room, the familiar weight of isolation settling over him.

Yamada, too, struggled in his own way. His attempts to connect with Shinso sometimes came off as overbearing, and when Shinso withdrew, Yamada couldn’t hide his hurt.

“Do you even like it here?” Yamada asked one day, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Shinso hesitated, unsure how to respond. He didn’t hate it. But he didn’t feel like he belonged, either.

“It’s fine,” he said finally, the words hollow.

Yamada’s smile faltered, and he nodded. “Okay. Cool.”

The tension between the three of them grew, each misunderstanding compounding the next. Aizawa’s guarded nature made him come off as cold; Yamada’s enthusiasm felt suffocating at times. And Shinso… Shinso was caught in the middle, unsure of how to bridge the gap.

One night, the breaking point came.

“You don’t trust me,” Shinso said quietly, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. “You say you want me here, but it feels like you’re waiting for me to mess up.”

Aizawa looked taken aback, but his face quickly hardened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Shinso shot back, his frustration spilling over. “You get mad when I make a mistake, but you never tell me what you actually want from me. How am I supposed to…” His voice cracked, and he looked away.

Yamada reached out, but Shinso pulled back, retreating to his room. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the apartment, leaving Aizawa and Yamada standing in stunned silence.

The spiral had begun, and despite their best intentions, the fractures in their newfound family seemed to widen with every passing day. Yet, beneath the tension, the desire for resolution remained—a fragile thread that might still hold them together if only they could find a way to reach it.

The first small step came from Yamada. Late one night, when the house was quiet and Shinso’s door was firmly shut, Yamada knocked softly. There was no response, but he spoke anyway, his voice low and steady.

“Hey, Shinso. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I’ve been too much or made you feel uncomfortable, that’s on me. I just want you to feel at home here, and I know it hasn’t been easy. I’ll try to do better. That’s all I wanted to say. Good night.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked away. Inside the room, Shinso sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the door. The words lingered, settling into a place he didn’t realize was waiting for them.

The next day, Shinso left his training gear in the hallway again. But this time, before Aizawa could say anything, Shinso quickly picked it up and muttered, “Sorry about that.”

Aizawa paused, caught off guard. His sharp response died on his tongue, replaced by a simple, “Thanks.” It was a small exchange, barely significant, but it felt like a turning point.

Yamada suggested a game night that weekend. Shinso hesitated but agreed reluctantly when Aizawa gave him a rare, encouraging nod. The evening was awkward at first, the silence punctuated by Yamada’s forced enthusiasm. But as the games went on, something shifted. Shinso found himself laughing—really laughing—at one of Yamada’s ridiculous antics. Aizawa even smirked, though he tried to hide it behind his drink.

By the end of the night, the tension in the room had lessened, replaced by something softer. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

Over the following weeks, the bonds between them began to solidify.

One afternoon, Aizawa invited Shinso to join him in fixing some of the apartment’s small maintenance issues. At first, Shinso was reluctant, unsure if this was some kind of test. But Aizawa handed him a screwdriver and began explaining how to tighten a loose cabinet hinge.

“You’re pretty handy,” Shinso said after a while, surprising himself with the casual compliment.

Aizawa glanced at him, a faint smirk on his face. “Comes with living alone for so long. You’ll pick it up.”

“Maybe,” Shinso said, focusing on the task. It wasn’t much, but the quiet teamwork felt… good.

Yamada, as always, leaned into his exuberant personality to create moments of connection. One evening, he dragged Shinso into the living room, holding a box of old photos.

“Check this out! Baby Eraserhead,” Yamada said, holding up a photo of a younger Aizawa scowling at the camera, wrapped in a gaudy scarf.

Shinso snorted. “How did you even get this?”

“I have my ways,” Yamada said with a wink.

Aizawa walked in, saw the photo, and sighed. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“Come on, it’s a classic!” Yamada teased, nudging Shinso. “Admit it, this is the best thing you’ve seen all week.”

“It’s up there,” Shinso said, smirking. For once, the banter felt natural.

The most surprising moment came during a training session. Aizawa had set up a small obstacle course in the nearby gym to help Shinso practice both his physical skills and quirk usage. After several attempts, Shinso finally nailed a particularly tricky maneuver.

“Nice work,” Aizawa said, his tone genuinely approving. “You’re getting better.”

Shinso’s chest swelled with pride. “Thanks,” he said, the word feeling more meaningful than it usually did.

Later, Yamada insisted on celebrating with takeout, and the three of them sat around the table, joking and sharing stories. Shinso found himself laughing until his sides hurt, the awkwardness of those early days now a distant memory.

But as they started to settle into their new normal, Shinso couldn't shake the feeling that it was all too fragile.

One evening, when Aizawa and Yamada were both out, Shinso wandered the apartment. He found himself staring at the family photos Yamada had insisted on putting up in the hallway. Most of them were older pictures of Aizawa and Yamada—snapshots of a life Shinso hadn’t been part of. There was one newer photo, though: a candid shot Yamada had taken during game night. Shinso was mid-laugh, Aizawa smirking in the background, Yamada grinning like a kid who’d won a prize.

He reached out to touch the frame but stopped himself. It didn’t feel like his place. Not yet.

The next day, during breakfast, Shinso finally broke the silence that had been gnawing at him.

“Why me?” he asked abruptly, his voice low. “Why did you take me in?”

Aizawa looked up from his coffee, his expression unreadable. Yamada froze mid-bite, his pancake halfway to his mouth.

“What do you mean?” Yamada asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“You could’ve picked anyone,” Shinso said, his gaze fixed on the table. “So why me?”

Their was silence before he asked the question that broke Yamada'sheart, "it wasn't just because you saved me, was it?"

Aizawa set his mug down with a sigh. “We didn’t ‘pick’ you like we were shopping for groceries, Shinso. And this certainly wasn't a decision we made on the job.”

Yamada nodded, his smile soft. “When we decided we were ready we knew we'd want to look at every age range from all the non-international agencies. When we saw your file, we… well, we recognized you. We saw potential. Not just in your quirk, but in you. You reminded us of someone.”

“Who?” Shinso pressed, his voice sharper than he intended.

“Me,” Aizawa said simply.

Shinso blinked, startled. “What?”

“I was a lot like you when I was younger,” Aizawa continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Quiet, reserved, didn’t think I fit anywhere. But I had people who gave me a chance. They didn’t make it easy, but they didn’t give up on me, either. And I thought… maybe we could do that for you.”

Shinso didn’t know what to say. He stared at Aizawa, then at Yamada, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, what he said! And, I mean, come on, Shin-man, you’re awesome. We’re just lucky to have you around.”

Shinso’s chest felt tight, a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite untangle. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’m worth all this effort.”

“You are,” Aizawa said firmly, his gaze steady. “And if it takes you a while to believe that, fine. We’ll wait.”

Yamada grinned. “Yeah! Besides, we’re stubborn. You’re stuck with us.”

For the first time, Shinso allowed himself to smile—a small, tentative thing, but real.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll try.”

And for the first time, it felt like they were all on the same page. They weren’t perfect, and they weren’t always going to get it right. But they were trying. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

One evening, as they were cleaning up after dinner, Shinso surprised himself by speaking up. “I… I’m glad I ended up here,” he said quietly, looking down at the dish in his hands.

Aizawa paused, his expression softening. “We’re glad too.”

Yamada grinned, throwing an arm around Shinso’s shoulders. “You’re stuck with us now, kid.”

Shinso rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. For the first time, he felt like he truly belonged.

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thehouseofurmotha · 8 months ago

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Shinsou head cannons!!!

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader (duuuuuh)

Summary: Hitoshi as a bf!!! Very cute and fluffy :)

What it's like dating Hitoshi <3

• Lots of kisses all the time, and I mean alllll the time. He loves to spoil you with his affection. He probably wouldn't kiss you on the lips in public, but would rather opt for small kisses on the hand, or the forehead.

• Speaking about hand kisses, he loves to kiss your hand all the time. It's absolutely his favorite part of your body to kiss.

• He tells aizawa about you while they're training one time. He notices that Hitoshi is happier, and he questions the boy about it. Aizawa tells him that he's proud of him, even if you're in his class or not. (Idk guys I js really love dadzawa (I fear I have daddy issues))

•ANYWAYS! He spoils the shit out of you, he spends as much money as he can on you. And even if he doesn't have much he'll make you things instead. His love language is vry much gift, he loves giving you things. Even if he finds just finds a small rock or something that he thinks you'd like he gives it to you.

•If you're not in the hero course with him he will absolutely sneak you into his dorm to have sleep overs. Aizawa has a soft spot for him and he absolutely abuses this to get out of trouble if you ever get caught.

• He has an emotional support cat! He got her registered so he could keep her in the dorms with him. He would be very upset if anything ever happened to his cat, she's his best friend. She's def a lil chonky cause he can't deny her food, he feels so bad. Her name is probably like Luna, or Smokey, definitely something basic. Or on the other hand it could be something completely different and odd like megatron or some shit.

• I fear I may be projecting, but I feel like he has daddy issues. Maybe an absent father, or just a shitty one. So it takes him a while to come around to the idea of you meeting his parents.

• Your parents absolutely love him, they think that he's absolutely perfect for you and your personalities compliment each other so well. (Grumpy x sunshine)

• He always wants to be touching you in some way, either it's just your pinkies wrapped around each others.

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kacievvbbbb · 3 months ago

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So the thing is with Shinsou and his place in the ErasMic family he is so middle child coded to me. Like he just has so much middle child energy it’s insane.

Like my two most favorite ErasMic fics; Wards of AU by FeckedSpectrum (one of the all time pieces of literature I have read truly) and A Heart Grows Fonder by Laroyena both have Shinsou playing the youger sibling to Mirio and Shigaraki respectively and that’s when it clicked for me. It just felt so natural so easy for him to slip into this middle child role.

And it’s because he has all the bitchy confrontational energy of a younger sibling but with enough of the care and consideration of an Older sibling and so putting him against this older figure he doesn’t have to be as soft with as he is with Eri and he can really develop other aspects of his personality is so natural. H is such a bitchy constantly rolling their eyes sarcastic little brother I love it so much.

And this isn’t me saying I have anything against the Eri Shinsou dynamic ofcourse not I love them as siblings but I don’t know the dynamic just feels powered up when Shinsou’s a middle child there’s a more grown child figure kind of buffering a lot of Shinsou’s more abrasive tendencies so we still get to see that familial bitchy banter. A Heart Grows Fond described it perfectly with his relationship with Shigaraki. Shinsou gets a support system but he also gets someone he can practice his responsibility on without the fear that he might fuck it all up irredeemably because Eri is 6 and can’t pick herself up the way a 21 year old Shigaraki can of Shinsou miscalculates (it was explained so much better) but yeah that’s like the crux of it.

An older siblings is a much less pressured relationship that Shinsou really needs and god I just fucking love it. Middle child Shinsou you will always be famous to me.

#but like it’s only in the specific context of the Erasermic family tho #in every other situation Shinsou is an only child never before had a boy been so only child coded #also I recommend everyone read Wards immediately a truly astounding well thought out and executed piece of media #I like simply can’t comprehend how much it changed my life #or like how much it leveled up the already high level of respect I have for the written word #like just what they did with writing devices the symbolism this could only be delievered as prose #I didn’t know how much I needed Shigaraki & Shinsou interactions and Shinsou and Mirio interactions until I read this fic #honestly I just think Shinsou needs to interact more with older “kid characters #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #erasermic #hitoshi shinsou #ao3 shinsou #mha #erasermic family #erasermic fanfic #erasermic family fanfic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #eri mha #shigaraki tomura #mirio togata #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #bnha #my hero academia #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #my hero meta #throwing thoughts to the void

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b3ach-bunn7 · 2 months ago

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ho is u shakespeare? that shinsou fic was the SHIT

i BEG BEG BEG FOR shinsou nsfw, you write him so good PLEASE

like headcanons, oneshots, full fics ANYTHING PLEASE I LOVE YOU MWUAH MWUAH MWAUH

NONSENSE PT 3

You can’t stop thinking of Shinsou after your first date.

NSFW, Phone sex, guys this is pure FILFFFTH tw..

—————————————————————————

You end up calling Shinsou only an hour later. It’s actually him who calls you first, but you won’t deny the fact that you pick up almost instantly.

“Hey.”

His voice sounds a little breathless, and considering the fact he just got home, you assume he’s only just walked through the door, but it immediately makes you smile. You hear some rustling on the other end, a door open and close, and you assume he’s in his bedroom. You’ve set yourself up on your own bed, a Kraft Mac and cheese in your favourite mug and a movie on your laptop.

“So. It’s been a while. How have you been?” You ask and his laugh crackles in the mic.

His laugh that reminds you of his smile, which reminds you of his lips and the way they’d kissed you only minutes before. Your hands drift to where he had grabbed your face and you sit up, trying to calm yourself down.

If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you feel horny.

You have a rule for yourself. Despite your joke earlier, you have a deal with yourself to never fuck on the first date. You never really know someone properly after one, and especially with university guys, you’d rather get to know them better first. It’s also another little test, to see if they have that perfect mix of disappointment and respect at your denial.

Shinsou hadn’t even suggested at anything crazy, but that kiss had left your stomach coiling with need, and you found that you haven’t stopped thinking about him since. About getting him in your room and your bed. Your roommate wasn’t even home. It would’ve been perfect.

But you have principles, and even cute guys like Shinsou can’t change them.

“I’m good. I’m home, now. Dropped Eri home. She said she misses you.”

You smile, tucking yourself further under your blankets. “I miss her. And so does Elizabeth.”

You can almost hear Shinsou shaking his head. “Where did she even get a name like that?”

“God knows. Thanks for winning her for me though.”

Shinsou sighs, and you hear noise on the other line. “Well. It was nothing difficult, you know.”

You hum. “It was a great date, though. Plus one and all.”

“Really?”

“Really. I have a rule for myself, and you almost made me break it.”

Fuck. You were not supposed to say that.

“Rule?”

“Anyway! I’m watching a movie. What are you doing?”

“No, no.” Shinsou interrupts. “What rule?”

“No rules. What rules? It’s nothing.” You stammer.

Shinsou laughs. “Come on, don’t get all shy on me now. What rule?”

You huff. It’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s going to be weirded out or anything. You’re sure that kiss meant just as much as it did to him with how far his tongue was in your mouth.

“I. Well. I sorta have this rule, that I won’t ever sleep with guy on the first date, but I almost broke it. For you.” You laugh nervously.

You hands cover your face. He’s on speaker now, and the phone is out of sight to your side like it’ll make you feel any less ashamed of the words that just came out of your mouth.

“Come over then. Fuck your rules.”

His voice has dropped, gravelly and mixed with someone else you can’t quite place, and you think you could die listening to it.

Your face flushes at his words. “Shinsou! I-I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

You feel another pang of need. But you won’t. You tell him so and he groans, and you imagine him making that noise in a different setting and you screw your eyes shut.

“I’m always one for a loophole, sweetheart. I have an idea. If you’re interested.”

You wonder if he can feel your arousal from the other line, the way you almost throw your laptop and snacks off your bed. You have some idea what he could want, and you’re already preparing yourself to say yes, untangling your legs from beneath your covers to sit up in your bed.

“I’m interested.”

He hums. There’s a beat of silence, like he’s considering his next words.

“Touch yourself.” His voice is softer now, but it’s laced with something dangerous. “For me.”

“For you?” You still try and find a way to tease him back, but you’re laying back as you speak, already preparing yourself to obey.

“Well, it can be for you too, sweetheart.” He laughs. “Well?”

“Okay.”

You delve into the very back of your bedside table, the dildo you’d bought on an especially lonely night in your hand. Your hoodie, no, Shinsou’s hoodie, is off in a second, and you’re just wearing an old T-shirt and underwear. Shinsou hears the commotion, and he suddenly speaks up.

“No rushing, okay? You’re gonna do what I tell you. All the stuff I would’ve done if I’d have come over tonight.”

Your head falls back against the pillow, and heat pools between your legs. You think you whimper slightly, and you drop the toy on the sheets next to you.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Good girl.”

Oh fuck. You make a noise at the praise, and you can hear the smirk on his voice when he speaks once more. “I’ll remember that for later.”

You sigh. “So? What would you have done if you were coming over tonight?”

Shinsou thinks for a moment. “Would’ve walked you to mine. Let you in and very respectfully shown you to my couch.”

His words are tame enough, but the anticipation and the thought behind them has you wondering how long it would take for you to get to his place. One of your hands trail mindlessly up and down your stomach as you turn up the volume of your phone to the max.

“I’d have gotten you a drink. Sat you down on the couch just far enough that you’d want to move closer. Would you have moved closer?”

“Yes. I would’ve.”

He hums and you hear a zipper, a rustle of fabric. “That’s good. I’d have moved closer, too. Brushed a hair out of your face. Any excuse to touch you, that gorgeous face.”

He’s not even here, and you’re this worked up. He’s barely even said anything, nothing that suggestive, but you think you’re the wettest you’ve ever been in your entire life.

“I think- I’d have leaned in. Tried to kiss you.” You whisper.

“Yeah? Well, I would've kissed you back.” He sounds equal parts cocky and flattered, and it makes you want him that much more. You don’t love the noise that you make at that, but you do love the chuckle he makes in response.

“I wanted to kiss you all night. I think if we were anywhere else I’d have you bent over the closest surface. I don’t think I’d have been able to stop if I had gotten just one taste.”

Your hands itch towards your toy, and he tuts, ever perceptive. “Not yet.”

“Fuck, Shinsou.”

“Come on. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You can hear the stupid smirk on his face, and the strangled noise you make is so out of character of you it makes you mad, along with the satisfied sound that he makes, but you’re frankly too turned on to really care right now.

“That’s what I thought. You’d have been good for me at mine too, right? Let me take that shirt off?”

“Yes. Yes.” And in turn you fumble behind you and unclip your bra, and your chest is heaving, aching, begging to be touched.

“Would you let me play with those gorgeous tits?”

“You didn’t even see them.” You try go for teasing but you sound so breathless it’s more degrading to you than anything else.

“Oh, I can imagine. Touch them. Pretend it’s me.”

Finally. Your hands immediately come up, rough and impatient-

“Slowly. Softly, at first. I’d take my time with you.” You groan but you comply, hands almost feather light as you ghost over your nipples.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good. S’good.” You whine. “It’s not enough.”

“Would you get frustrated? Show me how rough you want it?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yes.”

And you don’t wait for the command before you’re pinching roughly, a groan leaving your lips as your hips lift off the bed and the stimulation goes straight to the heat building between your legs.

“That’s it. So good for me.” He coaxes you and another moan leaves your throat. “And what if I slipped those jeans off? Let my hands slide up those beautiful legs?”

“I-I’d let you. Please.”

“Would you be wet?”

“Yes, fuck I’m so wet. Need you, Shinsou.”

“Hitoshi. Call me Hitoshi.”

You do and he curses, and there’s more movement on his end. You wonder what he looks like right now, and you have half a mind to send him your address right now.

“That’s good. I’d give you what you need. You’d need it so badly, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” And you love that his words sound that bit strained, that he’s not as unaffected as you think he’s trying to seem.

“Please, please, Hitoshi.” You whine, and you’re not exactly sure what it is you’re begging for but you know he can give it to you.

“Tell me how wet you are. Just- One finger only.”

You could put all five in and he’d have no way of knowing. But there’s something so domineering about his voice, and you find yourself obeying instantly. You push past your underwear, shoving them to the side to slip your pointer finger between your folds. And you’re soaked, considering how little has actually happened.

“God, I’m so wet.” You sigh, finger trailing from your slit all the way up to your clit. “So messy.”

And Shinsou groans, a curse slipping past his lips, and the way he sounds just as worked up as you are makes you keen.

“Please. I need to touch myself, Hitoshi.”

“One finger. Put it in and tell me how it feels.” His voice drips with authority and something so commanding you don’t hesitate to listen.

And it barely feels like anything, slipping inside you with no issue, no hesitation and you whine. “Not enough.”

And you remember his hands, remember staring at them while he was manoeuvring the claw machine and you shake your head. “Can I use two? Want it to feel like you, like yours.” You mumble.

“Jesus fuck.” He grunts, and you hear the sound of skin of flesh and you feel a small sense of triumph.

“You were looking at my hands, baby? Go on, fuck yourself with those fingers just like I would. Fuck, would’ve made you cum on my lap before you even thought about getting to touch me. Bet you look so good when you cum. Wish I was there to see it.”

His words are a rambled mess and it only spurs you on. Your fingers thrust in as much of a steady rhythm as you can manage, and you use your thumb to rub messily at your clit, hips bucking off the bed. You don’t think you’ve cum from just your hands in forever, but the voice groaning in your ears sounds so needy, full of so much want and it’s all for you. Your peak gets closer and you moan, and he just keeps talking you through it.

“I want to hear it, okay? You’re gonna come all over those fingers for me and I want to hear it. Tell me when you’re close.” He says.

“So close, Hitoshi, fuck.” You cry.

“Come for me.”

And you do, clenching hard around your fingers, thighs twitching as you rub yourself through it, your moans hot and heavy as they slip out your mouth. You are very glad your roommate is not home, because you can be as loud as you want, as loud as Shinsou wants.

“Shit. You sound so good when you come, fuck-“ He lets out something that sounds feral, and in the haze of your orgasm you’re not afraid to ask.

“Did you-“

“No. I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He lets out a deep breath, steeling himself, and as if you didn’t just orgasm, there’s already arousal crawling against your skin once more.

“I bet you’d be so good after you’d just come. So soft and pliant, let me take you to my room. Is that right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d let you. Want you to fuck me, Hitoshi.” Your first orgasm only makes your want grow, anticipating what’s next.

“Aw, you should’ve come back to mine.” He teases, voice soft with something dangerous hidden beneath it. “Hope you have something you can use. I can promise it won’t be as good as the real thing, though.”

He sounds almost jealous under all the self-assuredness, and your hands immediately fumble for your toy.

“Yeah. I have it.”

“Good.” You’re already spreading your legs. “But not yet.”

You whine. “But-“

“You really think I’m doing anything before I taste that sweet cunt of yours?”

You stutter, pushing yourself up the sheets. “You- You’d do that?”

Shinsou pauses for a moment. “Nobody ever eaten you out before, baby?”

You shudder at his words. “No- Well yes, but they never really wanted to.”

And when he groans, it’s frustrated this time. “Nobody’s ever made you come on their tongue? Felt those soft thighs clench around their head because of how good they’re making you feel?”

He sounds so matter of fact, like it’s the worst thing in the world, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so wanted in your life.

“Hitoshi- I- I don’t-“

“I’ll give it to you, baby. You deserve it, you deserve to come on my tongue. Go on, touch yourself again.” His encouragement has you immediately complying, and he doesn’t stop.

“Think about it. About me. I’d spread you out on my sheets, make you see stars by the time I’m done with you. Gotta make sure you can take me.”

And the promise of that, of him pushes you closer to the edge. You moan his name over and over like a prayer as he talks you through it, the praise making you melt against your sheets. You’re hot and sweaty and he hums.

“Last one. You’re doing so well. Grab your toy.”

You do, the soft silicone cold in your hand. “It’s not very big.” You laugh slightly, and you can hear his smile.

“I guess we’ll just have to use our imaginations then.”

And you can’t help but grin, because even in a moment like this he’s joking to ease your nerves.

“Go on. Fuck yourself.”

His words are so bold, so vulgar but you don’t care, because you slide the toy inside you and you feel full instantly, the stretch just there but beautifully painful. You groan, relief and arousal all mixed in one. You twitch, still sensitive after your orgasm.

“Feels so good.” You whimper. Your thrusts are slow and long, just like you imagine he’d do it.

“It’ll feel even better when I’m inside you.” And it’s now you can hear the slick sound of flesh on flesh moving in tandem with you, and you wonder how soaked you must sound for him to be able to keep in time with you.

You know it’s nothing like what he’d actuallly feel like, but you’re so pent up. You’ve been aching for this for god knows how long now that it feels almost perfect, and you buck you hips up for a better angle, to reach deeper. The sound of his shaky breaths in your ear only spur you on. You sound filthy. Whimpers and whines and broken moans falling from you lips as you get faster.

“I can hear you, you know. How wet you are.” He sounds as close as he has all night, voice strained as he practically growls down your ears.

“M’close, Hitoshi. Wanna come with you, please.”

“Fuck, yes, yes. Come for me then, baby, fuck-“

And it’s a messy mix of moans and unintelligible noises as you both climax, and you twitch and squirm and you wonder what he looks like in the throes of his pleasure. If he looks as desperate and finished as you do. Your chest heaves as you come down from your high, and he curses once more, guttural and spent. You both pant, catching your breath once more.

“Fucking hell. That- Did you-“

“I did.” You say.

And the shyness comes in as your high starts to fade. You feel dirty but in a good way. You think that’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re glad it was with Shinsou of all people.

“So,” and you’re smiling before he can even finish his sentence. “Can I take you out on Friday?”

You hum. “Sounds like you’re just trying to get into my pants, Hitoshi.”

And he laughs, loud and boyish and you grin.

“Well. I am. The rule doesn’t count after two dates right?”

“Correct.”

“Perfect. But.” And he sounds almost shy when he speaks again, like he wasn’t just speaking the most raunchy words you’d ever heard in your life moments ago.

“I like you. A lot. Really like you.”

“Good. I really like you a lot, too.”

And you’re body aches and your face hurts from smiling too much, but you don’t care. You would amend your first date rule after tonight, but you don’t think you’ll be going on anymore first dates after this.

—————————————————————————

guys this is pure SMUTTTTT LIKE omg don’t tell me Shinsou isn’t a freaky boy we all know he is… I acc couldn’t stop thinking of him after I wrote pt2 and when I got thsi ask I knew what had to be done..

I love u all and I hope u love this as much as I did! I literlaly wrote this during my lecture at uni in public so.. do with that information what u will

LOVE U GUYS

#oneshot #fluff #b3ach bunn7 #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #mha shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou #bnha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi x reader #ao3 shinsou #bnha smut #bnha shinsou Hitoshi #mha smut

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