Kamisato Ayato Coming In 2.6!

will never get over the fact that we can love people despite there being countries between us. we can miss people we’ve never seen in person. we can connect and bond over hundreds of things without ever needing to be in each others physical presence. we can have half the globe between us and love never falters.

how they react when you try on clothes with them!

character/s: bakugo katsuki, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou

genre: fluff, humor, a little suggestive, informal writing lmao, literally just them hyping u up (as they should 😡)

note/s: help i hate this but it's been sitting in my drafts since march 😟 anw we stan kirishima n shouto in this household thank yew

bakugo katsuki would (try to) remain nonchalant throughout the whole thing. he'll be on his phone the whole time, grumbling here and there, though you've caught him staring over his phone multiple times. when you struggle with zipping up dresses or tying belts, he'll just stare for a good five minutes before grabbing your waist and aggressively (without hurting you ofc) helps you with your clothes. he'd definitely tease you with, "up or down?" while having the zipper in his hand and resting his chin on your neck, peering over with a smirk. once katsuki decides to participate more, he commits. when he doesn't think the outfit suits you, he'd shoot endless insult and remarks on the clothes, never on you. in fact, you'll hear a lot of "no, not this. you're too good for this garbage of a scarf." "the fuck is this cardigan? ha?! you're too good for this shitー what are you so pretty for anyway?!"

kirishima eijiro would just be beaming at you the whole time. he doesn't even give actual feedback on anything, he's just thrilled to be there. you"ll hear a lot of "that's pretty!" "oooh nice!" other times he'll just give you the brightest smile and put up his thumbs like, "yes. 🤩👍‼️ we love that." he'll instantly offer to take photos of the outfits for you, though most of them ended up focused on your face, and barely the clothes. eijirou lives for the growing smile on your face the more he takes photos and compliments you. you don't know whether to fawn or get annoyed over that because now you have 30 photos of your face with nearly the same expression in each one and not one proper photo of your clothes. 😔

you trying on clothes with a kaminari denki is just chaos. like kirishima, he thinks you look good in everything except he's a lot louder about it. every outfit, every little accessory you add, he's cheering and clapping like a seal. "BABE, YOU LOOK AMAZING!" "YES, I LOVE THAT ONE" "SLAY 👹‼️" with little cheek and forehead kisses occasionally because other than screaming it, he doesn't know how else to deal with how gorgeous you look ! he'll actively insist on accessorizing you (if you're okay with it, doing your hair's his favorite) trying on clothes together and hyping each other up as loud as you can has now become the newest love language between you two.

todoroki shouto's a lot more peaceful than everyone else. he won't give much feedback except for, "you look beautiful, love." and "that one's nice, i think." but you can tell he enjoys being there. he'll instantly turn the other way when you change into another outfit and asks every time, his cheeks tinted pink, if you'd prefer him out of the room instead. when you walk up to him to clip his bangs with a hair pin that didn't match your outfit, he just lets you, later re-adjusting the tiny accessory so it wouldn't fall off. and just when you think your boyfriend couldn't get any cuter, a week later you're faced with a very enthusiastic shouto, showing you his pinterest account with tons of outfit ideas he saved specially for you.

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

Hitoshi Shinso - Not Alone

Here's another Shinso story for you guys!!!

I hope you guys like some angsty fluff!

Enjoy!!!!!

Shinso opened the door to your apartment and found it very odd that it was unlocked. You never leave your apartment unlocked. With furrowed brows, he walks in on alert. The lights in the apartment are off and everything is quiet.

"Kitten?” he calls out as he flicks a light on.

He gets no response.

He ventures farther into your home and continues calling out for you.

After looking in the kitchen and the living room, a small sniffle catches his attention, causing Shinso to hurry towards the bedroom, turning on the light.

There, in the middle of your mattress, was you. Eyes red, nose plugged, and tears streaking down your cheeks.

Alarmed, Shinso drops his bag and crawls onto the bed next to you.

"What's wrong, kitten?" he asks while he scans your body for physical harm.

You only sob in reply as you wipe the tears from your face, finally realizing that he's next to you.

"T-Toshi?" you ask blearily.

Your vision swims and all you see is a blotch of indigo among white. Rubbing your eyes again, you're able to see him clearly. Upon seeing him clearly you try to give a smile, but it doesn't last very long. Seeing this, Shinso opens his arms for you, and you immediately enter his embrace.

As Shinso holds you in his embrace, he feels your body wrack with sobs as you start crying again. He rubs your back comfortingly, just letting you cry for a minute.

"What happened?" he murmurs into your ear as he continues to rub your back comfortingly.

“M-My friend, (friend name)...” you choke out.

Pulling back from him, you look up at Shinso and inhale a deep, shuddery breath. "I-I just... don't understand how they could be gone... T-They were such a-a huge part of m-my life and n-now they're g-gone..." you stutter out.

Shinso's lips purse at your reply.

Heartbreak isn't an easy thing to deal with...

"Oh, love." he coos as he wipes the tears from your cheeks as they fell.

"It's alright kitten." he soothes as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I-I just can't b-believe they're g-gone T-Toshi..." you mumble against his chest.

"I know love, I know." Shinso soothes again, rubbing your back comfortingly and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I cared about them so much... I loved them so much... L-like a sibling..." you say as you grip onto Shinso's shirt for dear life.

"I-I don't e-even kn-know if I ever t-told them that..."

Shinso takes you by the shoulders, gently pulling your face away from him again. He looks down at you with a soft expression on his face as fat tears well up in your eyes.

You blink causing them to roll down your cheeks.

Shinso's thumb immediately brushed them away as he holds you in his arms.

Your voice cracks when you begin to speak again. "My heart hurts so much... Please make it stop hurting Hitoshi..."

"I just want to back to before everything happened..."

Shinso's heart breaks at your pleas. He wishes that he could take away the pain you felt. He looks at you, clearly an empty shell of your former self.

"I can't do that, kitten." He says, pulling you close to shelter you from the world and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. "I can't take the pain away, but I can be here to help put you back together."

You grip his shirt as if he would be the next person to disappear.

"I feel so alone..." you whimper hollowly.

The fatigue from this situation is catching up to you and settling in your bones. You want nothing more than to wake up refreshed and discover that this whole situation had all been a nightmare. To wake up and find your friend alive and well.

"You're not alone." Shinso says to you gently.

"I can't even begin to replace them, but I love you. What can I do to help?"

At his question, you stop and think for a moment before your stomach growls loudly in response.

Shinso's lavender eyes narrow at the noise. "When was the last time you ate?"

You chew on your lip, averting your eyes from his probing gaze. Taking care of yourself hasn't been that high of a priority recently... The grieving process has overwritten all other needs and hopelessness and despair made sure that you haven't left your bedroom all day.

"Kitten." Shinso prompts.

"It's been a while..." you admit sheepishly.

Shinso hums at your words before taking you in his arms again, putting one arm under your knees and the other around your back.

You look at him in confusion as you wrap your arms around his neck so that you don't fall.

"Toshi? What are you-?" You begin to ask but he cuts you off as he carries you out of the bedroom and to the living room.

He sets you down on the couch. “I’m going to make you food.”

Your posture relaxes and you nod in reply, agreeing that getting some food in your stomach will be good for you.

"I'll be back." he tells you gently as he kisses you on the forehead before exiting the living room and entering the kitchen to make some dinner for the 2 of you.

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

After about 10 minutes of sitting on the couch, just relaxing, you decide to go to the bathroom and wash up before dinner. You get up from the couch, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

You let out a long, tired sigh as you turn to the bathroom mirror. As you look at your reflection, you grimace slightly. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is dry, your hair is greasy and unkempt and the dark circles under your eyes look like bruises and rival Shinso’s own eye bags.

Maybe after dinner you'll take a shower.

------

After washing your hands, you exit the bathroom and head back into the living room. As you walk past the kitchen, the scent of frying bread hits your nose, causing you to drool slightly.

You walk over to the kitchen door, seeing Shinso standing in front of the stove. You smile at the sight of him before you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his midsection.

You hear him chuckle softly as you nuzzle you face into his back.

"Food will be ready in a minute." he says to you gently. "Go sit down and I'll bring it out to you."

"Okay." you reply before kissing him on the cheek and exiting the kitchen.

------

A few minutes later, Shinso exits the kitchen walking over to you with 2 plates. Each plate had a grilled cheese sandwich on it.

"Here you go." he says as he gives you your plate.

You take it from him gratefully.

"Thank you."

Shinso smiles at you gently as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, ready to start eating his own sandwich.

After finishing your food, as well as a glass of (favorite drink) you lay your head on Shinso's shoulder. You let out a sigh as sadness and confusion still runs through your body.

"Thanks, Toshi." you mumble.

Shinso wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer to his side. "I'm sorry that you're going through this kitten." he begins.

“But I’ll be there every step of the way, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, grateful Shinso who you know will stand by your side, no matter what.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞?

prince!oikawa tōru x princess!reader word count: 0.4k warnings: none a/n: special thanks to @ryesei for instigating royal au brain rot n proofreading <3

it’s been years since your allied kingdoms have met, and the last time you saw the crown prince oikawa, he was a little snotty nosed brat who liked to swipe sweet delights from under the baker’s nose, and have a tantrum whenever he lost a game of dice to you. the fond memories brought a small smile to your painted lips, but for some odd reason your heart was still racing at the thought of seeing him again after so long. you're mind wandered back to a couple days prior, when your ladies in waiting gossiped about his notable beauty, and how he’s one of the most sought after bachelors in his kingdom. even further in fact, some have whispered.

suddenly trumpets rang through the throne room, shaking you of your thoughts, and instinctively you raised your chin and straightened your back. no matter how impressive he may be, you are still the crown princess of your kingdom, and you weren’t going to let a man play with your nerves and make your knees buckle. you’ve dealt with much too much to let that happen.

the enormous doors embellished with swirls of gold, and carvings of mythical animals pushed open, revealing an entourage of various knights in gleaming silver armour, and footmen dressed smartly with splashes of the familiar pale teal colour adorning their chests. the fanfare of trumpets rippled through the magnificent room and reverberated off the soaring ceilings. you forgot how grand their entrances always were; the oikawa family really did love to have a splendid show.

the golden trumpets finished their welcome, and the noble people of the royal court took their cue to stand up in respect of the royalty about to appear. the mass of silver and teal parted and the beloved crown prince oikawa tōru finally emerged in all his glory.

the whispers were right. and you hated it with a growing passion in each of his assured steps. you hated the gentle tousle of his caramel hair, and how it shined under the golden sunlight. you hated the way he commanded the room with a cool poise, and cunning smirk. you hated how fitted and flattering his royal clothing looked on him, the ivory white and the accents of pale teal complimenting his fair skin so perfectly. you hated how as he strode to greet your parents, his clear brown eyes glanced over at you, and your heart seemed to stop for a moment. you hate how as he came to greet you and took your gloved hand with his own, looking up at you through his lashes as he gently brushed his lips against your knuckle with a knowing smile, you forget how to breath.

“it’s been a while, my lady.”

thanks for reading ! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

“I would of wanted her to be curious. And willful, unstoppable even. But with enough compassion to heal the world ... just a little bit.”

HAIKYUU BOYS + MEET CUTES

feat. kuroo tetsurō, bokuto kōtarō, miya atsumu, iwaizumi hajime

warnings. meet cutes!! aka funny situations where you meet men i love

KUROO’s in your english class and, if you’re honest, you can’t stand him at first. he’s intolerable—all loud laughter and silly grins and doodling haphazard polygons in your notebooks—but the more you see him, the more he follows you around and toys with your hair and tells you that you look like you just saw a ghost every time he appears out of nowhere, a warmth rises in your chest that you can’t quite place your finger on. so, when he asks you to get dinner with him through breathy laughter and the hum of the afternoon sun, you truly just can’t say no.

BOKUTO orders a different kind of coffee from you every morning. they’re always a little too complicated and he’s always a little too apologetic, giving you a tip that, though you’re very grateful for, is probably undeserved—but he smiles every time you hand him the drink—wide and toothy and something that feels strikingly like home—so there’s something that leaps in your chest as you scrawl your number across the top of the cup with a little smiley face next to it.

ATSUMU collides with you at the grocery store and, as you try and gather your dinner in your hands, little apologies slip past his lips. he’s pretty—even with messy hair under tacky fluorescent lights and confusion spread across his face—so, when you ask him if he’s in such a rush for a reason, you can feel yourself reveling in the grin that starts to spread itself across his face as he tugs you down the freezer aisle.

IWAIZUMI looks more uncomfortable than anyone you’ve ever met before. sure, parties aren’t exactly your thing either, but he swirls the drink in his hand and his eyes wander across the room and there’s something about him just screaming that he would be anywhere else. so, you sink into the wall behind you and make quiet conversation with a man you’ve never met, and he smiles—a tiny little thing spiraling across his cheeks—and there’s something in you that couldn’t walk away if you tried.

reblogs/interaction is always appreciated ❀

(I am SOO sorry for sending another ask, BUT) kissing riddle till he's breathless and panting :3

-👅 freakyanon

jumped on this immediately in my sleepy stupor. i was actually stuck on this but woopsies i looked at his ssr halloween card and said fuck it

in which the prefect steals a kiss from riddle. he proceeds to chase the prefect down the heartslabyul maze as payback. riddle rosehearts x reader warnings: suggestive near the end! notes: takes place during the scary monsters ~ endless halloween night event. tried to bring out more of his 'evil queen of hearts' side out.

"Prefect, you came!"

White sheets wrapped around your form, you met Riddle with a cheeky grin as you held out your little bucket. Grim approaches with a matching smile, snickering to himself in a childlike manner. Now that the most dangerous part of the evening was over, Halloween cannot possibly end without a good trick or treating. "Of course! Why wouldn't I visit?" You giggle, much to the housewarden's delight.

Riddle bows slightly, tipping his hat with a courteous smile. It was nice to see your face, unobscured by the sheet. "A very Happy Halloween indeed, Prefect. Now, where did I put those sweets...?" He rummages through his pockets, able to take a handful. He pauses, frowning slightly as he sighed to himself. "I'd have to go back and get another pocketful of candies. It seems I have run out just now." He is taken aback by the way you shake your head, beaming at him with delight.

"Oh, no! It's no problem at all. Give the sweets to Grim!" You tell him, but Riddle hesitates, only relenting when you nod in assurance. "You'd sooner go to a veterinarian to look at his teeth than see a dentist yourself?" He questions with a weak smile. You could only sheepishly laugh in return. "Do I even have insurance in this world? Maybe if I pay Trey's family under the table, I can indulge a bit more with the confections." Grim yowls with glee as he scampers towards the other skeletons, presumably Ace and Deuce who have been lounging by a fake tombstone.

Once alone by his own casket, Riddle sighs and looks at you, almost as if he were trying to pry for a secret. "I suppose you are allowed to bestow upon me a trick, seeing as I have no treats to give you." Your eyes widened with slight surprise. "Are you sure? It's really fine, you know?" Your words are immediately cut short by a shake of his head. "As the Heartslabyul Housewarden, it is my duty to ensure all rules are followed."

There would be no arguing with Riddle when it comes to upholding rules.

Back straightened, Riddle sucked in a deep breath before meeting your gaze with promise. "Very well, prefect. What trick shall you play on me this time?"

You pause for a long time, almost stuck between several thoughts that were running through your head. Riddle couldn't help but feel his chest tighten as you bite onto your lower lip, shifting your ghostly sheet slightly. "Any trick?" You question quietly, eyeing the group of skeletons minding their businesses in the back. He watches as you settle the bucket of sweets to the side, as if preparing yourself for this trick.

Riddle's heart quickened, uncertain whether it was out of fear or excitement. He tilts his head slightly to the side, narrowing his eyes onto you in an attempt to read your mind. He cannot find anything based of how you seem to avoid his gaze, not to mention how shy you suddenly seemed. It was almost unlike you, especially when he has seen how lively you can be with some of the first years.

"Any trick, Prefect."

He knows you wouldn't do anything too reckless, but that was not to say you weren't bold.

However, what he does not expect is for your hands to take his collar and pull him close.

It is only instinct to him, when his eyes flutter shut and all he feels is the warmth of your lips onto his. Whatever thought he has to push you away is immediately melted as he inhales the scent of your hair, followed by the slight push of your weight. Much to his dismay, he never gets the chance to return that kiss. It is chaste, and quick, but it takes everything in his power to not drag you back when you hastily pull away.

He is dazed as he stares at your flushed expression, almost flustered by your own actions. Biting onto your lower lip, you take a step back. In response, the redhead reaches a hand out, only missing you by a few inches. "Prefect," He breathes out, eyes widening as you back away even more.

In the moonlight, Riddle looks more of a monster than he did human. The eyeshadow that compliments his eyes makes him appear more ghastly, but all it did was make your heart race even faster.

"Prefect, come back." He muttered, eyeing you dangerously.

He looked hungry.

There was a certain glint in his eyes that urged you to flee. Much like the trickster you were, you loved giving chase. With your heart pounding in your chest, you turned on your heel as you wrung your cape-like sheet around your neck. All you could hear was the sound of your heart pounding and your feet digging into the grass, unwilling to look back to see Riddle approaching with calm footsteps.

"Prefect!"

You run past the white roses and turn a corner into Heartslabyul's labyrinth. For all the instances you have already gotten lost trying to paint the roses for Unbirthday Parties, perhaps you had already grown familiar with each dead end and entrance you could find. A part of you wants to be caught, but another side of you does not want to find out the consequences of such. Maybe you can avoid encountering Riddle, and this entire trick could be forgotten overnight.

"Do you think you can hide from me, in my own maze?" Your breath hitches as the wind carries the whisper, and you soon grow paranoid with every footstep you make. Riddle is not Leona who can simply rely on animal instinct, but seeking and capturing was not his worst activity either.

The cries of the birds and the fluttering of their wings serve you no help, as it only seems to bring Riddle closer and closer to you. You swear you have seen your own footsteps already, much to your horror once you turn another corner. You have been here, there, and there already. Everywhere you looked, it was almost the same and the last thing you wanted to do was look behind you.

Everything comes to a halt when you turn a corner for the last time, only to meet a dead end. Surely, it shouldn't have been. You have made the correct number of left turns and right turns, you could have found your wait out!

"You turned right too early, Prefect." You freeze, whipping your head around to see Riddle approaching you with a cold smirk. He does not miss the way you gulp, all the more amused by your missing bravado. "Even if you didn't, I would have found you no matter what." You are taking a step back for every foot forward that he made, but it does not dismiss the inevitable end of this story.

The rustling of the bushes signals the end of your failed escape, back against the foliage. Roses, it is roses that intoxicates your senses, not Riddle who has suddenly come so close. His boot in-between your two feet, the redhead leans towards you with a warm breath. "I hope you enjoyed running. I did enjoy running after you." You are only speechless as Riddle smirks again, taking his gloved hand to tilt your chin upwards. "You've ran further than I anticipated. It's only a shame that I know this maze like the back of my hand."

"Riddle, my apologies." He could only raise a brow at your meek apology, shaking his head at your small tone. For someone who stood at his height, he has never felt taller when examining how suddenly shy you were. "For what? I took no offense, not when it was you who granted me such a sweet trick." This time, you are taken aback as Riddle cages you in, pressing your wrists gently against the bushes.

You could see through his bravado, knowing that there is still that part of him that appears hesitant. "I suppose that I did have a sweet treat for you after all." His gaze softens, as if asking permission. He does not even close in the gap, remaining at a distance even as his gentle grip on your wrists tightens ever so slightly with yearning.

"Will you allow me to indulge you?"

It is entirely impulse when you dove forward, pressing your lips against his once more. Just as you have done before, it is you holding the reigns. Your eyes are shut as you meld your lips onto his own, mixing in the faint flavor of cherry and sweets onto his tongue. Perhaps it is the moonlight tricking you into such bold actions, or the haziness of Halloween night that has transformed you into anything but the polite Ramshackle prefect.

If anything, it seems to have transformed Riddle as well.

You could only let out a muffled moan as his arm shifts down to your lower middle, tugging your waist close for an even deeper kiss. Riddle gasps momentarily for air before diving in himself, being the only to push you further and further into the foliage. Had it not been for his other arm keeping your form secure, you are certain that he would have pushed you onto the ground. There is more of Riddle on you now, and you keep looking for more and more as your hands snake up his neck and onto his hair.

He is sweet. He is even sweeter as he drunkenly swipes his tongue onto your lower lip, a crude way of asking permission. And yet, you oblige, allowing to explore your cavern greedily. To think Riddle would act so hungrily, almost unbecoming of a gentleman as he pushes and prods at you. You think that you are going to die like this— die running out of air because there is no part of you that wants to pull away.

Thankfully, your companion has the willpower to entangle his hands onto your hair and pull you away ever so slightly. He sucks in a shaky gasp, and you can see that intoxicated look on his face, in spite of all the sugar you gathered from his breath. There is nothing left in this maze, save for your shared breaths and the heat radiating from your cheeks.

Riddle stares at your hazed expression, never truly satisfied. You seem to share the same sentiment as your trembling hands crept up to his collar.

"A fair treat for the sweetest of roses."

FINDING LOVE LETTERS ON YOUR DESK.

▹ featuring eijirou and denki. happy almost valentine’s <3

it’s all smiles with eijirou until his gaze lands on the neatly folded letter placed on your desk, the corners of his lips falling just in the slightest. his spirits sink when he hears your hushed gasp behind him, scooting past him to pick up the envelope. it’s not long before your friends crowd around you, tittering over the anonymous confession.

the flowers hidden in his bag seem to wither away with each giggle that leaves the cluster surrounding your newfound admirer, the sound of paper ripping open to peer inside like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. and he feels the sudden want to wish for the earth to swallow him while when one of your companions start to read the letter out, whistling and cheers filling the air soon after.

“this was sweet and so thought out,” you begin after a moment, folding the letter back up and placing it inside the envelope, “but i already have a valentine. he’s really special to me, you know. always has been.”

eijirou perks up when your gaze meets his, the crowd parting to let you through while he fishes the beautifully wrapped bouquet out of his bag to present to you. a grin as bright as the sun spreads across his lips when he offers it to you, and this time, the cheers that follow suit only serve to lift his heart up.

the letter is snatched from your desk with the precision of an undercover agent by your beloved boyfriend, brows furrowed in disbelief - and nearly comical offense. denki turns the letter over in search for a name, anything he could place to a face… but to no avail.

he shakes the offending envelope, somehow expressing even more disbelief, and sputters out a, “you got a letter! a letter!”

“are you going to let me read it?” your question makes him snap towards your voice and your laughter is just barely stifled, arms crossed over your chest in amusement.

“no! or— well.” the blond pauses as a influx of embarrassment courses through him, setting the letter back down and averting your gaze with a pout. “it’s meant for you, i guess…”

grinning faintly, your arms move to cup his face, pulling different faces from him until a few giggles manages to slip from him.

“don’t want to,” you declare with finality, smiling when his hands move to rest at your waist. “not when i’ve already got what i wanted for valentine’s day.”

and the smile denki gives you is worth more than any handwritten letter.

thanks for reading ☕️ reblogs are appreciated <3

nevermore