WITH GREAT POWER..

The bell on top of the door jingles as he walks in. He ignores the cashier who tries to greet him, and spots his father nursing a cup of coffee at the back of the cafe. Enji is tall, imposing, and Touya feels his skin prickle as his eyes sweep over to him. He takes up entirely too much space, long limbs and thick muscle, a suffocating force that Touya can feel from across the room. He swallows, fists clenching in his pockets, and he makes his way to the table. If Enji is surprised at his presence, he doesn’t show it. It’s not like Touya to actually come to these, though he knows his father comes everyday without fail. There have been some days where Touya has peeked through the windows of the cafe and seen him sitting there, all sad and old and alone, and very promptly turned around and left him there.

But he needs something now. So he doesn’t really have much of a choice.

Touya drops down in the chair across from his father, sighing heavily. There’s a long beat of silence. His leg jogs anxiously beneath the table, his arms clasped together and thrown in front of him.

“How are you, Touya?” 

His fathers voice is loud and Touya’s nose wrinkles.

“Fine.”

“Have you been going to your therapy sessions?”

“Sure.” 

“Touya.” Enji’s tone takes on something fatherly and it makes something in Touya stand to attention.

The idea that any part of him is still conditioned to respond to that voice makes his skin crawl, so he scowls to even it out. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Like you can still scold me.”  

Enji brows twitch, the only sign of any emotion on his face, and he sighs. “I don’t mean to scold you, I just want to make sure you’re doing everything you need to.”

“How touching, pop.” 

Enji takes a long drink of his coffee. “It’s for your own good. If you don’t follow the steps of your parole, then you go back to prison.”

Touya finally sits up, the conversation steering to something he’s actually interested in. “Speaking of parole. I need a new parole officer.” 

Enji frowns. “What?”

“Yes. And I even have someone in mind. Very proactive of me, no?”

Touya is well accustomed to the sight of anger on his fathers face, and he sees some irritation flicker behind his eyes. “You can’t just- pick your own parole officer, that’s not how this works.”

Touya’s leg is bouncing up and down and up and down, the scratchy material of his jeans flaying around his legs. “Well, she’s not actually going to be my parole office. She’ll just.. keep me in check. Like what Natsou does, but less annoying.”

“Keep you in check?”

“Yeah. I’ll still meet up with whatever the fuck she’s called-“

“Himari.”

“And my she will make sure I’m going to my meeting and shit. See? I’m trying.” He nods, but his father does not look impressed.

Endeveour is trying very hard not to bug out, and it’s quite satisfying to watch. “Who is this she? Is she one of your friends from. From before?” 

He can’t even say it. Touya is sure the concept of villainy is one Endeavour knows well, yet he still seems to be in denial that his son used to be one.

Touya rolls his eyes. “No. She’s not.”

“Who is she?” He pushes. “You can’t expect me to agree to this if you don’t even tell me that.”

Touya doesn’t want to tell him. He can already imagine his reaction, and for some inane reason he wants to keep the whole idea of you to himself. He doesn’t want to share it with his family, let alone his dad. But he doesn’t seem willing to let it go, and if there’s anyone more stubborn then Touya it’s the man sitting in front of him. 

He sighs loudly and irritatedly. He waits another beat before he spits the words out. “It’s Y/N.”

He watches the shock flicker over his fathers face. Touya’s sure it’s been years since he’s heard that name. He doubts that the Todorokis bothered to keep in touch with her after he was done.

Endeavour struggles to find the words. “Are- Are you sure this is smart? Does she-“

“Obviously she doesn’t know.” Touya snarls. “I’ll- I’ll tell her. So don't go running your mouth.”

It’s a bald-faced lie he’s sure doesn’t go unnoticed, but his father won’t say anything. He won’t say anything no matter what Touya says or does. He’s so desperate for a relationship between the two of them it leaves a bitter taste in Touya’s mouth. It’s pathetic, really. That ship sailed a very long time ago.

“Okay. Okay, fine. But nothing else changes. No conditions of your parole will be different.” He speaks sternly, and Touya gives him a toothy grin.

“Thanks, pops.” He shucks him on the shoulder, cuffs clinking against his coat.

Touya’s chair squeaks as he pushes back, getting up on his feet. He doesn’t say goodbye, and doesn’t bother to look back at the sorry sight he leaves at the table. Pity is one of the many things that had died in him all these years, and even if he could muster up an ounce of it, it has no place being directed towards his father. 

——

When he gets back from his coffee date, Natsou is already up. He’s bustling around the kitchen, sleep still in his eyes, as he packs a lunch for work. Touya doesn’t acknowledge him as he throws himself on the couch, turning on the TV. He’s got a few minutes to kill before he needs to go meet Y/N, so he plans on spending them doing nothing.

Natsou pops his head out of the kitchen. “Oh. You’re back.”

Touya only grunts in reply. He’s flicking through the channels but nothing piques his interest.

Natsou shoves half a cucumber straight into his bag. “How was dad?”

“As shitty as always.”

“Why’d you go see him anyway? I swear you only have to see him once a month.”

“I do.” He lands on a channel showing old reruns of some cooking show. He watches as someone slides a cake out of a fridge.

Natsou pauses. “Didn’t you see him last week?”

“Can’t slip anything past you, Natsou.” Touya muses, foot rocking up and down where it hangs off his couch.

Natsou wrinkles his nose at the fact he still has his shoes on. “How many times have I told you to take your shoes off before you sit on the couch?”

“I’m going out again. Need you to drop me in town, actually.” Touya sighs and sits up, tossing the remote on the coffee table.

Natsou abandons his bag on the table. He snatches the remote to turn off the TV, and fixes Touya with a suspicious look.

“What do you need to do in town?” Natsou stands over him. It’s clearly supposed to be some sort of intimidation tactic, and Touya gets up to shoves him away.

“None of your business.” 

Touya already knows it’s the wrong thing to say, because Natsou only doubles down after that. “Are you meeting- You know. One of them.” He speaks like the words are poison and Touya rolls his eyes.

“One of the league of villain members.” He whispers dramatically, and Natsou shoves his arm.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. We’re catching up over coffee.”

Touya's stomach itches for something to eat, and he makes his way to the kitchen to dig through Natsou’s cupboard. He still doesn’t have a job, so all the food he’s eyeing he hasn’t paid a penny for. Not that he cares. He grabs a protein bar and rips it open, taking a bite. He turns around and Natsou is still watching him. 

He feels a prickle of irritation stir in his gut. Ever since he’s come back from the whole villain gig, there’s been a shift in the dynamic between his siblings. Touya’s the oldest and he’s always been the one that demands respect, that the others look up to. Now, things are different. They keep trying to look after him, baby him, and it annoys him to no end. 

“You wanna come?” He speaks through a mouthful but Natsou doesn’t laugh at his poorly-timed joke.

“I have work. Maybe-“

Touya groans, pushing himself up off the counter. “I’m not a fucking child. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Natsou narrows his eyes. “No, but you’re an ex-con who’s currently on parole. And you officer said I have to call her if-“

“I’m not fucking-“ Touya whirls around. “I’m not doing any shady shit, okay? I’m just seeing someone.”

“Who?” Natsou presses and the answer catches in Touya’s throat.

He’s not exactly sure how to get out of this. His brother is just as stubborn as he is, and Touya knows this matter won’t be dropped until he gets an answer that satisfies him. He considers lying, but his brother is annoying enough to follow him if he doesn’t spit out the truth.

“Y/N. Now will you get off my fucking back?” Touya walks out the kitchen so he can avoid the shock that shoots across Natsou’s face.

But of course, his brother is not done bugging him, because he follows him once more. “Y/N? As in like-“

“Yes. The only Y/N we fucking know.”

Touya throws the empty wrapper on the floor. It’s more a distraction technique, and even though Natsou stops to pick it up, it doesn't distract him from the matter at hand.

Touya grabs his coat and shucks it on. “Can we leave?””

His request is ignored. “When did you guys start talking again?” 

Touya sighs. “I don’t know. A couple days ago?”

“Does she know?” 

He doesn’t need to say anything else. They both know what, and the words hang heavy between the two of them.

Does she know what a horrible person he is, does he know what Touya has become? All the gory details of the last few years she’s missed. 

“No.” Natsou makes a face at his answer and Touya scowls. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not, it’s just. You should tell her.” Natsou says it with too much judgement and Touya considers how many hits he could get in before Natsou froze his hands off.

“I will.” He snaps back. “Can you drop me in town or not?”

Natsou looks like he wants to say something more. But the hard look on Touya’s face deters him from pressing any further. They both know this isn’t the last time they’ll discuss this, but for now, he lets it go.

“Yeah. Let me finish packing my lunch.” Natsou grabs his bag and keeps digging through his kitchen.

Touya gives him an unimpressed look. “Some fucking lunch. You’ve packed half a cucumber.” 

“Fuck off.”

—

The coffee shop you two plan to meet at is in a busy part of town. Even though it’s still relatively early, the streets are alive with pedestrians, suits on their way to break for lunch, students taking a walk on their break. Touya lives in a much nicer area than he used to in his League days. It’s nice to see food stalls filled with fresh fruit and the smell of fresh bread wafting out of the bakeries. The League hid out in a shithole of a town, and it was a miracle for even a convenience store to be open. Anyone that did run a business there was usually like them; using the appearance of the building to hide the more nefarious things going on inside it. It’s nice that now, if he feels like it, he can grab a can of soda or some of that packaged mochi he only ever finds in 7-Eleven. 

The only thing he can’t stand is all the staring. You’d think it was their first time seeing someone whose skin is terribly disfigured from dark burn scars. It’s funny. He’s seen people with tails and animal skin and freakish quirks that far rival his sorry sight, and yet he can’t avoid the glances of shock, and pity, from half the people who come across him.

Today though, he pays them no mind as he trudges down the street. His mind is too busy racing at the thought of seeing you. 

He spent the better part of last night convincing himself it was real, and not just some sick hallucination he’d conjured up. The world is never on his side, and the fact the two of you had just happened to both be outside and sitting on that bench at the same time is hard to believe. But it happened, and now he has to figure out how to go about this without fucking it all up.

You’d both exchanged numbers after your meeting, and he’d been too much of a pussy to text first. You had been brave enough though, and before he’d even gotten home his phone was vibrating in his pocket. 

Y/N: meet me at Kumo at 11

Y/N: that cafe in town

Y/N: DONT BE LATE 🤬

You still texted the same. Touya had to bite back his smile as he walked into Natsou’s place, shooting you a reply back telling you he’d be there. 

And he wasn’t late. He actually had three minutes to spare. When he finally finds the place, he’s greeted by the strong scent of coffee and the noise of chatter as he walks in. The place is busy for the morning, though he supposes anyone having brunch at a cafe doesn’t consider eleven in the morning as early. It’s a marvel he’s even walking around, especially after his even earlier meeting with his father. Usually he wakes up way past noon, late enough that sometimes he’s still blinking the sleep out of his eyes when Natsou comes home from work.

The atmosphere is nice, though. He gets a strange sense of Déjà vu as he scans the place until he finds you. You’re sitting in a booth near the end, chin on your hand as you read the book in front of you, a tangled pair of earphones in your ears. There’s a cup of something steaming in front of you and your scarf is still wrapped around your neck, your coat abandoned in the space next to you. Touya suddenly feels warm, and he walks quickly to your table. You jump a little when he sits down across from you with a heavy sigh.

You glare at him, pulling your earphones out. “A hello would’ve been nice.”

He only grins. “You seemed so busy. Didn’t want to interrupt.” 

You fold the corner of your page and Touya cringes at the sight. You take a sip of your drink and he can smell the rich scent of chocolate. 

“Are you drinking hot chocolate?”

“Yes.”

Touya snorts. “How old are you again?”

You take another long sip, smacking your lips together loudly. “Don’t judge me. It’s good and coffee sucks. And be serious, we have a lot to discuss.”

You unwrap your scarf from around your neck and dump it beside you. Touya settles in front of you, his leg bouncing up and down beneath the table. He can admit that he’s a little nervous. You seem to sense it, because you give him a big smile.

“Alright, Dabi. Did you bring your file?”

He didn’t. He didn’t forget, but he knew that if he gave it to you you’d see the name Touya Todoroki written about a million times all over it and this thing would be over before it even began. But he couldn't exactly tell you that, so he instead produces a (slightly) crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and slides it toward you.

You’re not impressed. You give him a flat look, picking it up and scanning it. “What is this?”

“The conditions of my parole.” 

“I asked for your file.”

“And I couldn’t bring it to you.” He says. “My parole officer wasn’t exactly raring to give it away when I asked. But all the terms are right there.” He gestures at the sheet and you look it over again, biting your thumbnail.

“Are you sure this is all of it?”

“Very.”

You look up at him. You think about what to say next for a beat too long. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

Touya brows furrow. And he’s offended, because you’ve know him for how long now? And he’s painfully reminded that it’s not Touya that you don’t trust, but Dabi. The freaky looking villain you’d picked up from the street like a stray cat.

So he schools his offended expression he’s sure you’ve already caught. “I’m not lying.”

Your eyes are boring into his skull, looking at every freckle on his face. Touya raises an eyebrow.

“If you’re checking me out, you could be a little less subtle.”

Your attention is distracted for a moment, and your cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as you scowl. “I’m not checking you out. I’m trying to tell if you’re lying.”

Touya huffs, irritation spiking. “Do I look that untrustworthy?”

“No,” You say firmly. “But you are an ex-con, so. I have to be careful.” 

The comment stings more than he’d like it too, but he doesn’t comment on it. He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table, his cuffs clinking against it. “I’m not a liar.”

The words feel wrong the second he says them. Because Touya is a liar. He doesn’t want to be, but he doesn’t feel like he has much choice. Natsou had told him again in the car that he should tell you the truth. Touya had replied with a middle finger in his face. He knows it’s wrong to keep something from you, but he has to.

And he isn’t lying about this. It really is all the terms of his parole. He didn’t even bother asking his officer for his file. One, because he knows she wouldn’t give it up and two, she already pries in his life enough anyway. He’ll wait to tell her about you as long as he can. 

You give him one more long look before you nod firmly. “Alright. I trust you.”

He lets out a breath. “Good.”

You read over the messily written sheet of paper once again and nod. “These aren't too out of the ordinary. The curfew must be annoying though.”

Touya groans. “Don’t even get me started. Feel like a fucking teenager, having to be in bed by nine every night.”

Natsou is very particular about that. Despite the fact he stays up all night yelling at some stupid game with his friends, Touya isn’t allowed so much as a trip to the corner shop down the street past eight in the evening.

“How do they enforce it, anyway? Are there trackers in your cuffs?” You look down at his wrists.

“I guess so. I’ve never broken it. I have a real life tracker anyway, my brother is always on my case.” 

“You live with him?” 

Touya smiles slightly, head tilting. “Nosy, aren’t you?” 

You make a face at him, sliding the paper back towards him. “I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re so mysterious.”

It’s a strange situation Touya finds himself in. On the one hand, he can be honest and tell you that he has three siblings, a father he hates and a mother he’s too ashamed to talk to. He’s sure that he’s not the only one in the world who has those particular types of family issues, but telling you the truth might be enough for you to connect the dots. On top of all that, there's also the peculiar feeling of you getting to know him while he knows nearly everything about you.

Touya sits back, dropping his hands in his lap. “I’m a private person.”

“Boring.” You mumble.

He nudges your foot with his shoe and you smile. 

In the blink of an eye, you're suddenly all business. You pull out a notebook and a pen from a bag he didn't even notice you had, and write his name in big letters across the first empty page. 

“Okay. I think the most important first step is probably getting you a job.Have you ever worked before?” Your voice is all professional and sits up slightly.

“No. Unless you count working in the kitchen in prison.” He muses.

“Alright. Kitchen experience.” You scribble neatly. “It’s something.”

Touya scoffs. “Not really. No restaurant will hire me.”

You’re fiddling with your pen, flinging it back and forth between your fingers. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. No restaurant wants this ugly mug.” He shakes his head dejectedly.

You hum thoughtfully. “It’s okay, we’ll get you into the kitchen. Back of house should keep you away from the guests.”

Touya barks a laugh, but your face drops in horror. “Oh my god, I'm sorry, that was so rude.”

“It was funny, too.”

You’re trying to stifle your laugh, your face flitting between guilt and mirth. “Sorry, I just- I’m getting too comfortable. I don't know why, but whenever I talk to you I feel like I've known you forever. ”

Touya’s laughter stutters in his throat. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You fix him with a wistful gaze and the table goes quiet as the two of you look at each other for a beat too long for it to mean nothing.

You clear your throat and the moment breaks. “Anyway, you have nothing to worry about, you’d do fine front of house. You’ve got the looks for it.”

Touya leans forward then, a teasing smile on his face. “You think I’ve got looks?” He murmurs.

Your mouth clicks shut and he watches as you wave him off quickly. “Moving on.”

His tongue pokes at his cheek. “Right. Moving on.”

“I can look around for jobs, but I’m sure you’re aware it’s not going to be easy.” You say.

“Yeah, trust me. I’ve been trying for the past two months.” 

Strangely enough, people aren’t jumping up and down to hire ex-cons.

“Unfortunately, it's not as easy as I’d like it to be for ex-cons to get hired. I know a few spots so I can give them your CV after we write one up.” You scratch at your head, face puzzled as you think.

There's unused sugar packets scattered on the table and Touya grabs one to fiddle with. The cafe only gets busier around them, and Touya is glad that you picked a booth far in the back away from the worst of the commotion.

You take another sip of your drink. “So what are you into?” 

Touya hums thoughtfully. “Well. I like being on top, but-“

“Okay, no, not like that!” Your face scrunches and you shake your head furiously. “You are disgusting!”

“What? You asked!” 

“I didn’t ask that! I meant-“ 

Your words are cut short as you try and place your mug back on the table, but instead somehow knock it over. It spills all over Touya’s hands, and you gasp, moving his hands away from the hot drink that’s now dripping from the table onto the floor. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” You say frantically, grabbing a tissue and trying to dry his hands.

It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts, actually. The overuse of his quirk through the years has killed most of his pain receptors, but especially the ones in his hands. But it’s cute to watch you fawn over him. Your skin is soft as you lift his hands up, worry creasing your face, and he’s more concerned about your skin touching him than he is about any burns. You look up at his face, that hasn’t moved since you drink spilled, and pause your movements. He’d tease you for holding his hands but he doesn’t want you to let go just yet.

“Why are you not in pain? The hot chocolate is literally steaming.” 

Touya shrugs. “I don’t feel pain.”

You roll your eyes and let go to continue cleaning up the table, and Touya mourns the loss. “Wow. So strong and brave and masculine.”

Touya laughs. You dump the soaked tissues in your now empty cup, sliding it out of the way. “I’m being serious. The pain receptors in my hands are dead.” 

He holds his hands out, and you observe the shades of purple and red skin that cover his hands. The scarred skin is better now. Enough surgery and time and medication had left them looking somewhat normal. The skin on his forearms and legs, his hands and even parts of his face will forever be disfigured but he’s long given up caring about his looks. It’s a nice deterrent to stop people from talking to him. Though, he misses the staples sometimes. He thinks it added a nice edge to his look.

Your eyes trace the pattern of his skin. You reach forward, finger tracing lightly over the skin of his palms. “Was it your quirk?”

“Yeah.” 

“Is it like this on all your scars?” Your eyes trail down his body.

“The rest are nowhere near as bad. My hands are the worst.”

“My friend was the same.” You speak softly. “He had a fire quirk, and it hurt him if he used it too much, too.”

The atmosphere shifts into something Touya is not ready to dive into with you. He shuts his hands and you slide your own under the table. It’s quiet for a beat more before you suddenly perk up and any traces of sadness are quickly wiped off your face. 

“Hold on. I might actually have a place that would want you.” You beam. “We can go there now but we just need to write you up a CV.”

“We can’t do it at my place. No printer.” Touya says. Which is true. But there’s also about a million pictures of his family which he can’t have you seeing.

“It’s fine, we can go to the library.” You grab your scarf and wrap it around your neck.

“Alright. Let me go wash my hands. They’re sticky because of a certain someone.” He says pointedly, and you feign ignorance, shaking your head disappointedly.

“Some people.”

—-

The table the two of you are sitting at is tiny. It’s made for one, so the both of you squeezed into the small gap isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. When Touya adjusts himself, his thigh brushes against yours and you shoot him a look, knocking into his leg.

“Stop manspreading.” You mutter and he glares.

Touya knocks into your leg back. “I’m not. It’s not my fault I’m six foot five.”

You snort. “Keep dreaming.” 

The two of you are huddled in front of one of the old computers in the local library. Touya hadn’t been to this place since he was a kid. It wasn’t a long walk from the cafe, and you spent the entire time talking about how you used to come here when you were younger, brandishing your peeling library card with your name almost completely rubbed off. He remembers you dragging him here during exam seasons, but he doesn’t remember himself getting much studying done. He never cared for the academic parts of school. Touya was always more concerned with getting as much training in as possible.

Crazy how that turned out.

The computer looks about thirty years old and you have to wipe the dust off the screen before you can use it. It takes too long for it to boot up and when it finally does, you start typing in your login information. 

Your leg is warm where it’s pressed into his and he feels himself sweating. The heater is on but it seems to be turned up high enough to turn the room into a sauna. He’s already taken off his coat but it isn’t enough, so he reaches down to take off his hoodie as well. His t-shirt underneath catches and exposes his stomach, and he pulls it down, but not before he catches you getting an eyeful.

“Enjoying the view?” He winks and you quickly look away.

“Shut up.” 

The library is pretty busy. There’s students studying in huddles and parents choosing out picture books with their kids. The librarian in the middle of the room won’t stop looking at the two of you. Touya had maybe made a joke about the floral shirt she had on when you’d both walked in, and the loud snort you made seemed to have put her in a pretty bad mood.

“Okay.” Your voice is low. “What was the place you said you worked at when you were younger?”

“I didn’t say I worked at a place when I was younger. I said I worked in the kitchens in prison.” He says a little too loudly.

His words catch the attention of the people sitting besides you, and Touya tries not to laugh as one of them scoot away from them slightly. You frown, shooting a worried glance at the librarian.

“Lower your voice.” You glare. “Shelly will kick us out if we’re too loud.”

Touya leans down, and his lips brush against your ear as he whispers. “Like this?”

You face heats and you shove him away as he laughs. “Focus. We have to fill this CV with something. You ever did any volunteer work?”

Touya groans, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t be childish. We need to think.”

“Can we just lie?” He suggests, hanging his head backwards. “Doubt the whole villain thing is something we should include.”

You bite at your thumbnail a little anxiously. “It’s fine, I can embellish a little.”

You find an empty template online to fill in and start typing, the keys clacking as your fingers fly across the keyboard. Touya lets his eyes trail around the room as you do it, rocking backwards on his chair.

“What’s your name?” You ask suddenly.

“You forgot already?” He sighs sadly. “Some PO.”

“No, your full name.” You turn to face him. “I assume your birth name isn’t Dabi?”

His chair thuds as it lands back on the floor. Touya hadn’t expected this. In hindsight it makes perfect sense that he’d have to put his name on his CV, but he has no idea what to tell you. 

He swallows roughly. “Uh. Can you- Can’t we just write Dabi?”

You regard him for a moment. Touya thinks you’ll push for a second, and he’ll have to lie straight to your face again, but you only nod, turning back to the computer and typing Dabi at the top. You scoot your chair to the side and gesture for him to fill in the rest of the information. 

“I’ll be back. I just need to find this book.” You pat his shoulder and disappear into the shelves behind him.

It doesn’t take him long to finish up. Mainly because there’s not much to put on it. He puts his phone number and quickly makes an email that doesn’t include his government name. Touya skins over what you’ve written, and it’s actually pretty good. It all makes him sound a little more competent than he really is. He’s done in about fifteen minutes, and when he sends the file to print you’re still not back. He pulls out his phone and plays two games of solitaire before he gets bored enough to go seek you out.

The library is ancient, high ceilings and old carpet paired with a faint smell of dust in the air. Most of the books are old and the labels on the shelves are peeling, but Touya knows how much you love it here. He can remember the stacks of books you always had in your room, and the amount of times you dragged him here to sign something out or get on with school work.

It takes a few laps of the shelves before he finds you. You’re looking irritatedly at the top shelf, and he thinks you're considering climbing up the bottom one to reach the book you want. He comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. You squeak in surprise and he stifles his laugh.

You glare, shoving his shoulder. “You scared me!”

Touya puts a finger to his lips, eyes glinting. “Whisper, remember?”

You roll your eyes. “Can you pass me that book? The one with the red spine.”

The aisle you’re both standing in is small, and you step out the way as much as you can so he can grab it. When he turns to hand it to you you’re much closer together than he expected you to be. Your chest is an inch away from his, and when he passes the book to you your fingers brush against his own as you grab it.

You give him a bright smile that makes his knees weak. “Thanks. Let’s go get your CV.”

He doesn’t have much to say, so he nods and follows you blindly.

—-

It doesn’t take long to get to what might be Touya’s new workplace. He pesters you the whole way there, but you refuse to tell him where you’re going. He hasn’t learnt the town’s layout yet, so he has no idea where he is until you're dragging him through the glass double door.

“The pound?” Touya deadpans, and you hold the door for him, ushering him inside.

“Yeah, I think it’ll be perfect for you.” 

Touya rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

The building has that distinct smell of animals coating its walls, and Touya can hear them barking and growling and making whatever noise they make towards the back of the room. The place is pretty big. There’s a counter right in the middle of the room with a till and the cheap merchandise they try to pawn off on the customers when they’re checking out. He’s assuming they leave the animals in the back of the place, since the main area is full of pet food and kennels and the contents of a pet owner's wet dream. 

You walk right to the front desk, and someone pops their head out from underneath when you drum your fingers against it.  A woman emerges. She’s got bright red curls tied up messily on the top of her head and a polo with the logo Touya had seen outside embroidered on her chest. She’s wearing a shirt underneath, and the sleeves are rolled up, revealing a cut that oozes blood on her forearm. You gasp, leaning forward and grabbing her gently. 

“Oh my god, what happened?” You say worriedly but she waves you off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just had a little incident with one of our new cats. She’s a little feistier than I thought.” She shakes her head, and you drop her hand to dig in your bag. You hand her a plaster and she thanks you. 

It’s then she seems to notice you’re not alone. Her eyes narrow slightly as they land on Touya. They flit to the exposed cuffs on his hands and he pulls his sleeves down as subtly as he can. She nods her head at him in greeting. “Hello. Who are you?”

You smile brightly, determined to break the slightly awkward tension that settles around you all. “This is Dabi.” You grab his arm and drag him forward. “And he really needs a job.”

She laughs. “Right. I’m Hana.” She holds out a hand for Touya to shake, and he does so. Her grip is firm and he smiles a little awkwardly.

“Do you have experience with animals?” She asks.

Touya is about to answer but you beat him to it again. “No, but he’s a very avid worker and he would be really grateful for the opportunity. And I would too.” She says firmly.

Hana narrows her eyes at you. “Does Dabi talk?” 

“Not when she’s around.” He mumbles.

You laugh sheepishly and elbow him in the side for good measure. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll let you two talk.” 

You dump your purse on the counter and practically run into the back room. Touya peers to the right slightly and sees you cooing into the cages, your finger peeking through the bars to play with an animal he can’t see.

“So, Dabi. What’s your story?”

He turns to Hana, who’s looking at him carefully. He feels a little under the microscope, but he just shrugs and tries not to look like he wants to be somewhere other than here.

“I need a job. And Y/N said this would be a good fit for me.”

Hana hums. “And are you one of hers?”

“One of her what?”

“Her cases. The parole officer thing.” 

She speaks matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Her calm nature rubs off on Touya a little. The question would usually put him on edge, and while he feels the slight urge to snark at her he only nods. Hana smiles wryly, and starts looking through some shelves underneath the counter. 

“I’m not judging you.” Her voice sounds slightly muffled as she kneels down to see better. “I was in juvie when I was younger.”

Touya raises a brow, leaning against the counter. “Really?”

“Yeah. I won’t get into the gory details, but I did my time. People didn’t talk to me much after that, but Y/N was always kind.” 

Touya doesn’t recognise Hana. She must be a friend Y/N met some time after he’d left, during which he was probably recovering from his incident or terrorising civilians. It’s funny, how different their lives had panned out. He wouldn't have guessed Hana was anything like him, but not everybody had their crimes burned into their skin like he does.

Hana rises from the desk again and puts a few stapled pieces of paper in front of him. He drags them towards him and his eyes skim over them, and he has to look up at her to confirm what he’s reading is correct. 

“Wait, you’re just giving me the job?” He says incredulously.

She grins. “I’m kind, aren't I? Have you ever worked with animals?”

“Uh, not really. I like cats, though.” Touya is still looking at her dumbly but she pays no mind..

“That’s good. I do have to warn you, most of the animals we get are rehomed or strays, so more often than not they’re likely to scratch you a bit.”

That’s not an issue for him. He tells Hana as much, and she nods happily. “Good. That usually turns people off from this.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Touya says, and she huffs a laugh. 

“Okay. Fill in that job application, and I’ll text the number you’ll put there and let you know when you’re starting.” Hana states. She looks around the place for something.

Touya frowns, standing up from the desk. “Hold on, are you fucking with me? You’re just gonna give me the job like that?” 

Hana turns back to face him. She puts one hand on her hip. “Look, I’ll be honest, I need help around here. Most of my workers are school kids, and I need someone who can do something full-time.”

She pauses, then."I'm guessing you’ve been looking for a job for a while now?”

Touya nods and she smiles wryly.

“Well. I was in your position once. And she,” Hana points to you, where you're currently trying to stroke a cat through the small gaps in the bar. You’re not very successful, but you’re determined not to give up. “Worked here. And she vouched for me when nobody would and she got me this job. And now I run the place.”

Hana shrugs, finally producing a pen from beneath a clipboard. She hands it to Touya. “I owe her. And you seem like a good guy.” 

Touya has to hold in his laugh at that statement. He’s unsure why so many people keep assuming the best of him lately. First you, and now this woman. He feels bad. He doesn’t mean to fool so many of them but it’s been so long since someone had offered him kindness with nothing in return, and Touya is selfish. He doesn’t think he deserves it, but he’ll take it anyway.

He gives her a firm nod. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me by being a good worker.” She sings.

The application is nothing out of the ordinary. His past experience, any health issues that need to be known. There is a place for his name and address as well, two things he’s a little cagey about. He taps the pen against the desk to get Hana’s attention and she gestures for him to speak.

“Hey, is anyone gonna see this? Or just you?” He lowers his voice a little, though he doesn’t think you’re paying attention to anything happening over here.

Hana shakes her head. “Just me.”

“Can you keep what I write here to yourself? You know, even from.”  His words trail off and he signals towards you.

Hana agrees easily. “Alright.”

Touya thinks he can trust her, so he writes his full name and Natsou’s as his emergency contact. He scribbles in the rest of the information, and when he gives it back, he watches with bated breath as she reads through it. Her eyes widen a fraction when she reads the name. Her gaze darts to him, the burn scars across his body, before she looks away. 

Touya thinks she’ll say something. He’s ready to defend himself, to snap at her for being nosy, but she just places the papers back on the counter and gives him a small smile.

“All good here. You can get back to Y/N. Good luck prying her away from the cats.”

He raps his knuckles on the counter in goodbye, and follows you into the back. The cats seem to have differing reactions to the sight of him. Some of them cower, some of the hiss and the others rub their faces against the iron bars so that he’ll stroke them. He entertains one of them and its fur is soft underneath his fingertips.

“Theyre so cute, right?” Your smile is big enough it looks like it might split your face open. There's a kitten in your arm and another using tiny claws to climb its way up your shirt.

“Very.” The cat bites his finger and he doesn’t flinch.

You watch him with a hint of jealousy. “Lucky. These little demons hurt.”

“I thought they were cute?” He says and you wince as it digs into your shoulder.

“They can be cute and demonic at the same time.” You mutter. 

They squeal as you deposit them back in their cage. They nip at each other before they fall in a tumble onto the floor. “These two are siblings. Hana’s hoping they get adopted together.”

“Fingers crossed.” Touya says.

You brush off your hands and move to stand in front of him. You're both leaning against the wall and you look up at him. “Anyway. How’d it go? Did you get the job?” You ask nervously.

Touya stands up straight, his voice taking on an air of importance. “You are looking at the newest animal shelter employee.”

“Well done!” You grin, shaking his arm excitedly. “I knew she’d come through.”

He furrows his brows. “Uhm, I think I deserve some of the credit here.”

“Sure, sure.”

—

You offer to drop Touya home but he insists on walking. He needs time to think after the long day he’s had, and he could do without you knowing where he and Natsou live. 

The walk home is nice. The cold has eased up and the sun feels warm on his face as he walks down the street. They’d spent half the day out the house, and even though it’s only six in the evening, the sky is a medley of pinks and oranges as the sun starts to slip past the horizon. He’s in a good mood, so he stops by the restaurant near Natsou’s place to get them some dinner. 

He’d found this place on one of his first nights free. He didn’t have many places he could go, especially since Natsou was texting him every five seconds. So he just wandered down the street, trying to familiarise himself with the area before he had to get back home. This was the first place he found that sold soba, and good soba at that. The people who worked there were the kind of people he liked. They minded their own business and they made good food and that’s all he really needs.

He nods in greeting when he walks in the door and Ito, the owner, immediately starts preparing his food, long having memorised Touya’s order. He’s a burly man who he’s heard maybe say three words the entire time he’s known him. When Touya asks him to double the amount of food he only grunts in reply, dumping another serving of noodles into the pot.

This place reminds him of the takeaway spot he used to eat at near the League’s hideout. If anybody knew about minding their business, it was the people in that town. Everyone who lived there either had something to hide or had themselves to hide. It was just plain luck that that certain place actually sold good food. Kyorakutei is still the best soba he’s ever had, second to his mothers. Touya practically lived off that food, he had containers of it stocked in the fridge almost every day. Of course, they didn’t usually last long in there, since Twice and Toga would steal it every time and blame it on the other.

Something painful thuds in his chest. Touya hasn’t thought of the guys at the League in a while. He wonders what they’re doing. Probably still getting yelled at by Shiggy. As annoying as they were, and as depressing being a villain could be, he can’t help but miss his old coworkers. They were the closest things to friends he’s ever had. Touya is under very strict orders not to talk to them, and he won’t. But he can’t help but wonder.

His thoughts are cut off as the food is dropped in front of him, tied up in a clear plastic bag. He drops a few yen in the tip jar and makes his way back to Natsou’s. 

He pushes the door open with his foot, key in one hand and food in the other. He kicks off his shoes and dumps them by the door, and makes his way to the kitchen. He can’t see Natsou so he assumes he’s holed up in his room.

“I got food.” He calls out loudly, putting the bag on the table. 

“You got enough for three?” 

Touya’s head shoots up and he finds Fuyumi standing at the kitchen door fiddling with her hands nervously, Natsou practically hiding behind her.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see his sister. He loves his sister, it’s just. Things are just so different between them now and he has no idea how to deal with it. Natsou, he’s a little too overprotective, but their relationship hasn’t really changed other than that. Natsou still gives him the better seat on the couch, the better controller when they hop on a game together. Touya still feels like he’s his older brother and that he has some authority over him. 

Fuyumi is different. There’s only two years between them and the gap never felt that big anyway, but things are awkward between them now, stilted. She talks to him like he’s made of glass and she’s one wrong word away from breaking him in half. The two of them haven’t really interacted much since he’s been out. He never shows up to the family dinners and other than the occasional message they don’t talk. It’s a strange feeling, to feel like a stranger with your own sister.

“Fuyumi. What are you doing here?” The words come out a little harsher than he’d like, and while she falters a little she doesn’t back down easy.

“Natsou invited me for dinner.” She says brightly.

Touya glances around the empty kitchen, before he looks at Natsou blankly. “And you didn’t make anything?”

Natsou seems to take the fact that Touya hasn’t walked out as a good sign, because he strolls into the kitchen and starts pulling out plates for them to eat on. “I knew you’d get something. You always do when you’re out late.” 

Touya doesn’t respond. The kitchen fills with the sound of clatter as they all set the table. It feels oddly nostalgic, the way Fuyumi line sup the cutlery next to the plates, and Touya has to look away. He dishes out the food between three plates. There’s not that much in each, considering he’d bought food for only two, but it’ll make do. Natsou hums something under his breath as he pulls out drinks from the fridge and Fuyumi sits across from Touya at the rickety dining table. Touya gives them the plates with more food and takes the smaller bowl for himself. The wooden chopsticks snap as he breaks them in half and starts eating. He has the feeling he’s being watched and when he glances up, Fuyumi is looking at him strangely.

“What?” He speaks around a mouthful and Natsou scowls at the sound.

She shakes her head and her hair jumps around her face. “Nothing.”

It’s silent while the three of them eat. Touya considers making small talk, but he’s content to eat in the awkward atmosphere. He’s been through worse and if he’s being honest, he’s pretty hungry. 

Fuyumi is the first to break the silence. “So.” She taps her chopsticks on the side of her bowl anxiously. “How’s Y/N doing?”

Touya’s head shoots up. Then turns to glare at Natsou, who’s very adamantly avoiding Touya’s gaze. He stares deep into the depths of his bowl and Touya nearly throws his own over his head.

“You prick! You couldn’t last one fucking day before running to her!” He yells, slamming his chopsticks down on the table.

“Yeah because it’s dumb! And I wanted her to talk you out of it. You’d never listen to me.” Natsou shouts, and Fuyumi brows furrow, shoving Natsou’s shoulder.

“Stop yelling.” Her voice softens from its scolding tone as she turns to Touya.” It’s not his fault, I figured it out.”

He rolls his eyes and eats another bite. “Fucking snake. I’m never telling you shit again.”

Natsous sticks his tongue out. “You live with me, I’ll figure it out anyway.”

Touya throws a noodle at him and he dodges it horribly. Fuyumi rolls her eyes at the antics but her expression quickly fades back into concern.

“I mean, I don’t think it’s a bad thing to talk to her.“

“Do we have to do this now?” Touya rubs at his eyes, and Fuyumi nods frantically.

“I just think that-“

“Can you just trust me?” 

Fuyumi blinks. Her fingers tighten around her utensils. 

For the first time, he’s actually talking to her. This moment feels important. He thinks she knows it too, because she doesn’t argue. She just thinks, biting at her lip worriedly.  Touya thinks she might disagree, and he gears himself for an argument, but she relents.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll trust you.”

Touya nods in thanks. 

“Just- Can you tell me about it? How it goes?”

Fuyumi never looks more like their mother than when she’s concerned. It’s written so painfully obviously across her face just like Rei, from the crease between her brows and the downturn of her lips. It also makes her look like the little sister that used to follow him around and bandage his burnt hands in the middle of the night in the dark of his bedroom. So unfortunately for Touya, it makes his resolve melt almost instantly. 

He sighs, defeated. “Okay. Fine.”

Fuyumi beams. “Thank you.”

“Can you tell me, too?” Natsou chimes in and Touya scowls.

“You shut it.”

Natsou whines childishly. “Fuyumi, Touya’s being mean.” 

She hums thoughtfully. “You did kinda sell him out to me. Like, the first second you could.” 

“So now you’re both ganging up against me. Perfect.” 

Fuyumi gives Touya a small smile, and he acts like he hasn’t missed this at all.

GUYS… IM BACK… I know its been like six months since I last updated this IM SORRY.. Second year uni is not for the weak and i have been doing my event. I haven't even finished it in all honesty but i just was itching to write a chapter for this fic I TOLD U GUYS I WOULDN’T ABANDON IT! I have the next two months free so i’ll try write as much as i can!!

as an apology this update is NINE K WORDS LONG

also to clear up some (possible) confusion in this fic touya was found before he really got to do much as a villain. dont get me wrong he has some bodies on his belt but he didnt really blow up in the media or anything like that

and im so weak for him omg.. like he’s so in love with y/n just following her around like a lost puppy

anyway leave me a comment!! i love hearing what u guys think!

Shinsou tilts his head, strands of lavender hair brushing against his face. “Was it not you who told me to wake you the moment it was light outside?”

You had. But that’s neither here nor there. You tell him as much, and Shinsou rolls his eyes. “You have about a million things to do today. An early start is a good one.”

“Oh, alright.” 

Shinsou stands at the foot of your bed, hands clasped behind his back. “Shall I prepare your morning tea?”

“Yes, please.” You huff, finally getting up out of bed. 

Shinsou disappears for a moment, and returns carefully carrying a tray. You’re not surprised with the speed it takes him to produce it. He knows your morning routine better than you do, and you’re sure he has it ready before you even tell him you want it.

The floor is cold against your bare feet when you finally stand, and you thank him softly as you grab the cup, taking a long sip. You sigh happily, feeling the warmth spread through you. 

You place the cup back on the tray, and clap your hands together determinedly. “Okay. What is on my agenda today?”

You walk over to your closet, surveying your dresses and skirts. When you were younger, your father insisted you had maids dress you and bathe you and practically breathe down your neck constantly. You hated every second of it. The day you turned eighteen, you put your foot down, insistent that you didn’t need anyone helping you with anything anymore. 

Shinsou is the only exception.

“Well, you have a dress fitting at twelve o’clock, then your English lessons.” Shinsou rattles off. “Oh, and then, of course, your father’s ball in the evening.”

You frown, hands pausing where you’d been flitting through your clothes. “Another?”

“Another.” 

You sigh irritatedly. “I think I’ll be old and withered by the time he’s finished throwing them.”

Shinsou shrugs, leaning against your bedroom door. “It’s ball season. It’s to be expected.” 

You turn to Shinsou. “And it is still so tiresome and boring.” 

Shinsou snorts a laugh. “Why are you sulking so much? What’s the issue in dressing up and eating food?” 

You do sound a bit ridiculous. There’s thousands of girls who’d kill to be in the position you’re in, and here you are, complaining about being pampered.

“Apologies. I don’t mean to sound so spoiled.” You say sheepishly, turning back to your closet.

Shinsou smiles slightly. “Ever so humble, our princess.”

You pick out a dress and a corset, walking over and laying them across your bed. Your nightgown flutters around your legs, and it pillows around you as you sit down on the edge of your bed. You smooth your hands over the material. 

“Alright. Please leave, so I can change.”

“Are you sure you do not need any assistance?” Shinsou hums. “A proper butler should never leave his lady looking anything less than perfect.” 

You ignore the playful lilt to his voice, and the flush that spreads through your cheeks at being called his lady. You turn your head waving him off.

“I will be quite alright, thank you.” 

Shinsou sighs dejectedly, bowing. “Very well. I will be outside if you need me.”

You’re sure if people heard the way he speaks sometimes, when it’s just the two of you and there’s no one else around, he’d be fired on the spot. Maybe something worse, if your father was not in a forgiving mood. But you love it. He talks to you like you’re just Y/N, not a princess or royalty. You think it also helps that he’s easy on the eyes. 

Shinsou worked a few years in the King’s guard before he became your lord-in-waiting. There was an incident, you’d heard whispered in the halls of the castle, something that rendered him unable to fight. You’ve thought about asking him about it once or twice, but he gets awfully wistfully whenever you pass the new knights training in the grounds, so you decide not too. He was too good to lose, so your father appointed him as your butler and guard all in one.

That being said, the hard muscles and lean body he’d earned from all his training hadn’t yet faded. Not that you noticed it that much. You don’t like Shinsou just because he’s good-looking. It’s just nice to talk to a man who treats you like every other girl, and not untouchable royalty. Most men you speak to act like they’re one wrong word away from being banished from the kingdom, and the rest are more interested in becoming King then becoming anything meaningful to you.

And who are you to turn down a bit of harmless flirting?

You manage to get everything on by yourself, apart from your corset. You try, in vain, to tighten the intricate strings in the back, but you can barely see them from the mirror on your vanity. You sigh irritatedly, and call Shinsou back in.

The door opens almost instantly, and Shinsou steps inside, shooting you a smile. “You’ve called me back so quickly? I knew you couldn’t resist my expert services.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. If that is what you need to believe.”

You hold the corset tightly against your chest. It’s not the first time he’s done this for you, but you still feel nervous at the exposed skin of your back and shoulders being so plainly in his view. Shinsou sees the loose laces and already knows what you need. 

“Turn around for me.” He murmurs. “Unless you’d rather stay half-dressed.”

You shoot him a look but turn anyway. Shinsou’s fingers brush against your back as he picks up the soft laces.

“So mouthy.” You tut and Shinsou huffs a laugh.

It’s still early, and the sunlight casts shadows over your room. Shinsou had opened your windows in the morning, so a cold breeze settles over your skin. You pretened that that is the reason for the goosebumps on your arms. You brace yourself as he tightens them, sucking in a breath. You’d think you’d get used to having your insides squished together in these things, but it never gets any easier. Shinsou’s hand trails higher, and you can feel the warmth of his skin on your own as he works. 

His breath ghosts against your ear as he leans in. “I think you like mouthy. It’s much more interesting.”

You don’t respond to that, mainly because you’re not sure you can without sounding as flustered as you feel.

He ties off the laces and smooths his hands down the soft material. “All finished.”

You look at yourself in the reflection of your bedroom mirror. This dress is one of your favourites. The material is so soft, layers of tulle and dark green fabric that puff around your legs. There’s jewels sewn into the lining, and when you step into the light they glint and shimmer. 

Shinsou’s hands leave your waist, almost reluctantly. “It’s a crime such a pretty dress is wasted on your morning duties.”

You smile slightly, brushing the material down. “Well, do not worry. I’m sure I’ll have a prettier dress to wear tonight. And I’m sure father has lined up enough suitors to ogle at me all they’d like.”

Shinsou can hear the bitterness in your tone, and you can feel his eyes on you as he takes a step back. “You don’t seem particularly excited about that.”

You regard yourself in the mirror, shaking your head. “Would anyone be? These men, they. They all have the same goal in mind, the same as my father: He’s very adamant that I find a husband sooner rather than later.” 

You fiddle with the fabric of your skirts, the material soft as you twirl it around your finger nervously. Shinsou walks forward, and you turn to face him. He unhooks your fingers from skirt, smiling slightly.

“You’re still young. You have time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not young. We are the same age, no?”

“Yes. There are very different expectations expected of us, though.” He muses. “But tonight will be fun.”

You cross your arms, glancing up at him. “It never is. You’re lucky. You only have to sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of us act a fool.”

“I’m only interested in watching one of you.” 

You wave him off, biting back a smile. 

He’s so close. Close enough that a few inches more and you’d be touching, and then you could finally do what your brain has been begging for since the first time you spoke. It lingers in your mind for longer than it should, and takes a good deal of effort to ignore.

Instead of doing anything stupid, you take a step back and pray that he ignores how nervous you look, that there’s a chance he doesn’t even notice it. 

“We- I should go. I’ve got a busy day ahead.” You smile faintly, grabbing your hairbrush from your dresser. 

If Shinsou has any protests about your dismissal of him, he doesn’t voice them. He only nods, moving to the door.

“I’ll be outside to escort you to the tailor once you are ready.”

“Yes, thank you.” You smile, the brush going limp in your hand as the door shuts quietly behind him.

You don’t call him back this time.

—-

Dress fittings are very uncomfortable occasions.

Being stood in a room of about six people all staring at every curve and contour of your body is your worst nightmare. And they aren’t shy. No, your father appoints the best of the best, and the best of the best seem to think their own words are gospel, and that they can do and say whatever they like. You’ve actually had one of them grip the fat of your thighs and tut, and insist you ‘skip dessert’ for the next few weeks if you want to fit into a nicer dress.

You hate them all. Except for Hakamada. He doesn’t really talk much, but he’s patient, and seems to care more about how you feel than if his dresses get worn. He’s worked for your family for years, and you’re glad that you at least have him to save you from the other two.

Unfortunately, you don’t think he can make today’s fitting, which is why you’re wearing the monstrosity that you are. You’re standing on the small podium so they can all see you properly, and you frown at your reflection in the mirror. The dress is too frilly and comically big. You’re unsure how they even expect you to walk around in this without falling flat on your face. You look completely ridiculous, and judging by how Shinsou is refusing to meet your eye from the corner of the room, he agrees too.

Suzuki bites her bottom lip worriedly as she examines you, fluffing up the skirt. “Is it too pink?”

“It’s too pink.” Ito nods.

You nod. “Yes, I-“

Suzuki quickly waves you off. “No offence, darling but let us professionals decide this, okay?”She says, flashing you one of her fake smiles that show way too much teeth.

You want to say that you're both agreeing, so your opinion is clearly not any less valid than hers, but instead you give her a tight-lipped smile and focus your attention back to your reflection.

They gawk at you for a moment more before Ito ushers you over to the folding screen so you can get changed into the next dress they have waiting for you. 

You’re thankful to be rid of the suffocating material, and you stand and wait for them to pass you the next one. They take their time looking through the option while you stand half naked waiting for them. You feel too exposed in just your undergarments, and you cross your arms over your chest and try not to storm out of the room. The two idiots are arguing over whose dress should be tried on next. It’s by God’s saving grace that the doors to the room open, and Hakamada walks in with his own garments draped over his arm.

“Apologies for my lateness, your majesty.” He bows, and you peek your head over the side of the folding screen so you can beam at him.

“No worries. I’m glad you could make it.”

Shinsou takes the dresses from his arms and hangs them up on one of the clothing racks near the front of the room. They share some small conversations. They know each other, back from when Shinsou was a knight and Hakamada had designed their uniforms. You see a wistful look in his eyes, and you wonder if he misses working out in the field instead of being with you. 

Ito and Suzuki immediately look annoyed upon Hakamada’s arrival, and you roll your eyes at their sour expressions. 

“Hakamada! We thought you couldn’t make it today.” The smile on Ito’s face looks like it pains him, and you stifle a laugh. 

“I thought I’d be held up, but I was not.” He states. “Is it my turn to present my dress?”

“Maybe we-“

“Yes!” You exclaim. You’re still peering over the side, clinging to the screen so you don’t accidentally flash anyone. “Yes, I’d like to see your options.”

Hakamada nods, gesturing for Shinsou to bring him one. 

Suzuki sighs irritatedly. “Princess, with all due respect-“

“With all due respect, I am the one to be wearing the dress, so I think I am well within my right to decide which one it is to be.” You snap. 

They don’t have a reply for that. Shinsou walks over to give you the dress, and his fingers brush yours as you take it from his hands.

“Feisty.” He murmurs under his breath, and you turn around to hide your smile.

One of your maids helps you into the dress, and when you step up on the podium and see yourself in the mirror, you know this is the one.

You run your hands down the soft tulle and the skirt that perfectly circles your waist. The fabric is a mix of white and purple, colours fading into one another, with gold sequins sewn into the delicate material. 

“This one. This is the one I want.” You say, turning around to see the back in the mirror.

Hakamada smiles slightly. “Perfect.” He comes to stand behind you, cinching it a little more around your waist.

“I think I’ll need to take it in a little here, but it’ll be ready for tonight.”

“Perfect.” You grin.

Ito reaches forward, his hands hovering over the material. Hakamada bats him away but he doesn’t move. “Are you sure? I have a purple one we could look at?”

“No. I like this one.” You say firmly.

“Are you sure?” Suzuki also hovers on your other side. “There’s still a lot more options left. And this one, it’s nice, yes, but I’m sure I can find something that flatters you a bit more.”

“I like this one, though.” You reply, but your voice is already getting weaker.

You’re already slightly regretting your choice under their scrutinising gaze. Your confidence dwindles as they whisper between themselves and you fiddle with the fabric, biting your cheek as you look at yourself harshly in the mirror

“I think it flatters her just fine.” Hakamada shoots them a look but you’re already losing interest.

You sigh. “Maybe. Maybe we should look at a few more. Just in case?” 

You hear a noise of disagreement from the back of the room. You look up in the mirror and catch Shinsou’s eyes. He’s stood dutifully at the back of the room and his gaze hasn’t left you since you walked in.

“I don’t think you need to try on anymore dresses.” He says.

Suzuki rolls her eyes. “Of course. Now the butler has an opinion.” She mutters, throwing her waist measure on the table.

You pay her no mind. Your eyes are still trained on Shinsou. “Really?”

“Yes. You look beautiful.” 

You let out a breath of relief, his reassurance enough to quell all your worries. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll take this one, please.”

——-

It feels as if your English lessons fly by, mainly because you spend the whole time thinking about the ball later in the evening. You aren’t nervous about it. You don’t think you could be nervous over something you’ve done a million times, you just have no energy for it today. You wish you could just sit in the garden or read one of the novels your father had bought you from a few towns over, anything at all.

Instead, you’re staring in front of the large ballroom doors, awaiting your announcement to enter the hall.

Your face feels heavy with the makeup caked onto it, and your dress has been considerably tightened around your waist. Your chest is heaving out your corset a little more than you feel comfortable with, and the heels you have on click as you tap your foot impatiently on the floor. You feel like a show pony, dressed up to be paraded around the room, and you know it’ll only get worse once you walk in there.

“Smile, princess.” Shinsou sings behind you.

You wave him off. Technically, he doesn’t need to be here. When you’re at an event like this, he should wait in his room or with the other staff until you’re finished and need him again. But he doesn’t usually do that. He hovers around the edges of the ballroom, and you’re thankful for it. The second you get bored or too tired, he’s there to escort you back to your room. 

But today, you’re in a bad mood, and his teasing smile is only making you feel worse.

Shinsou raises a brow at the expression on your face. “Someone’s grumpy. English lessons didn’t go well?”

“Don’t be dense, Shinsou.” You grumble. “I can’t believe I have to spend the next few hours here. In this stupid dress.”

“At least it’s a beautiful dress. Very purple. I like that touch.” 

That may or may not have something to do with why you liked the colour so much. The lavender is suspiciously similar to the one on his head, but you don’t dwell on it too much.

You huff, fluffing out the fabrics so they fall neatly around you. “Your wit is unappreciated at this time.”

Shinsou sighs wistfully, leaning against the wall beside him. “You don’t appreciate it any time.”

You hear your father wrapping up his welcome speech, and you know it’s time for you to walk in soon. Shinsou saddles up to your side and nudges your arm.

“It’ll be fine, princess. You won’t be in there that long, and then you can complain about it all night to me.”

That eases you slightly. You nod, a small smile curling against your lips. “Alright. That’ll tide me over, I suppose.”

As if on cue, the heavy doors of the ballroom open, and Shinsou shuffles out of sight. It’s a walk you’ve done a million times, down the middle of the room and up to join your father where he waits at the front. But your skin still crawls at all the eyes on you, hungry and searching and all over your body. But you ignore it, smile brightly and keep your head high as you join your father.

The party is the same as it always is. You go around and greet your guests for what feels like hours. They ask about your studies, about your father, but mostly about your youth, and how quickly it’s slipping away. A few of the more confident ones even slip in a few comments about babies, which you very dutifully ignore. 

Occasionally, when the conversation is dry or someone is rattling on about something you’ve heard a million times before, your eyes drift around the room until they land on Shinsou. You think he’s always looking at you because whenever you find him, his deep gaze is trained squarely on you. He makes faces at the more annoying guests and rolls his eyes when they talk too long and you stifle your laughter behind sips of your champagne. It’s nice. It feels like you have someone on your side. 

It doesn’t get really bad until Keigo approaches you.

You’ve spoken to him once or twice. He’s one of your fathers favorite suitors, a prince hailing from a kingdom too rich for its own good, but you hate his guts. He’s handsome, sure, but that seems to be the only good trait he possesses. He’s rude and conceited, and he seems to think that the ground he walks on is blessed. If you ended up married to him, you’d toss yourself off your bedroom balcony to get away from him.

Your efforts to avoid him only go well for so long. He approaches you confidently and you internally groan as he makes his way over to you.

“Your majesty.” He greets, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

You’re trying very hard to hide the disgust on your face as he rises to his full height, smiling at you with teeth so white they reflect the light from the chandelier above you. “Keigo. What a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine. Seems like it was impossible to get you alone tonight.” 

“Oh, yes.” You laugh awkwardly. “I was busy greeting my guests.”

“I’m a guest too, no? One of the more important ones, I’d say.” He grins.

“Right.” You take a sip of your champagne. “So how have you been?”

“Perfect.” Keigo is standing far too close to you, and the smell of his cologne is strong and stings your nostrils. “I just finished the furnishing in my new palace.” 

“Another one? Do you not already own two?”

Keigo smirks. “You can never have too many. You should come by and see it. See them.” 

You nod. “Maybe one day.”

Maybe never. 

In one swift move, Keigo takes the champagne glass out of your hand.

You furrow your brows. “That- I was drinking that.”

He doesn’t pay you any mind. He carelessly dumps it onto the tray of one of your maids, almost spilling it over her, and before you can give her an apology he’s dragging you towards the middle of the room. The orchestra in the far corner of the room notices the commotion as people make space for the two of you, and begin to play a slow ballad. You watch in horror as people couple up and gather around you, and you have no choice but to comply with his dancing. 

Keigo wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your waist and dragging your other hand up with his. The music crescendos and the two of you start flirting around the ballroom. You’re not entirely sure how the two of you got into this situation, but you grit your teeth and let him spin you slowly. 

“You’re a great dancer.” He muses. 

“It’s my duty to be.” You reply, your hair fanning around you as he dips you down and lifts you up.

Your eyes drift and you see Shinsou. He doesn’t look happy. His body seems tense and you watch him scan the way Keigo clings to your body, before he promptly turns away.

“So,” Keigo begins and your attention is drawn back to him, “I think enough time has been wasted.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, princess.” The nickname tastes bitter coming from him, and you sigh irritatedly. 

“I do not.”

Keigo chuckles, like you’re some blithering idiot, and when he speaks again, he does it slowly, like you’re too stupid to understand him if he speaks any quicker. “The marriage between our kingdoms of course.”

If he sees the blood drain from your face he makes no comment, just grips your hand with more purpose. “Our fathers seem pleased, and let’s be honest. You’re not getting any younger.”

“What did you just say to me?” You snap, and he only smiles.

“It’s true, my lady. But don’t misunderstand me. You are still by far the prettiest thing I’ve ever set my eyes on. Let’s just hope those looks age well, or I might have to upgrade to a newer model.” 

And if his words didn’t disgust you enough, the hand that’s been circling your waist rises up until he’s practically fondling your chest, and you push him off you like his touch burned your skin.

“Get off me! Have you lost your mind?” You hiss, and he has the audacity to look offended, like you had done something wrong.

“I think you’ve lost yours. Don’t forget what I am to you.” He snaps and you laugh incredulously.

“You are nothing!” You yell, and you don’t care that half the room is staring at you now.

Because you’ve had enough. It’s like the damn inside you that had been threatening to burst has finally exploded, and you feel so hot with your rage that you have to clench your fists at your side to stop yourself from hitting him.

“I will never marry you. I will never- I would rather slit my own wrists than spend another second by your side.” 

You ignore the gasps around the room, the sound of your voice echoing across the ballroom. You ignore the thunderous voice of your father, and storm out of the room, dress billowing behind you as the doors fly open.

You head for the garden. This late in the evening, it’ll be empty, and the last thing you need right now is anybody in your way. None of the maids are stupid enough to try and approach you, and you’re undisturbed as you finally make your way outside, the cool air soothing you slightly. You pace up and down the cobblestone path, your breath coming out fast and shaky, trying to calm yourself down. 

Your father will kill you for what you just pulled. The whole kingdom will exile you to the farthest village possible for the embarrassment you just caused them. And even though a small part of you feels vindicated for finally yelling at Keigo in the face, you know the consequences of that action will far outweigh any gratification you got from it.

You slump down on one of the wooden benches. You try not to cry. Really, you do, but you can’t help the stinging behind your eyes, and the tears that smear the makeup that had been so carefully painted on your face hours before. You don’t know if it's anger or sadness or the accumulation of all the things you’ve been feeling the past few weeks, but you can’t stop them anyway.

You’re alone, so luckily there’s nobody to see you. You feel pathetic. You don’t have many girl friends you’d trust with something like this, and your maids would only listen for the gossip.

It’s when you’re feeling extremely alone that Shinsou finds you, as he always does. 

You hear his footsteps thundering up the path, and when you lift your head up to meet his gaze, his face is creased with worry. It worsens when he sees your tear-stricken face, and he sits besides you. “No, don’t cry, Y/N.”

“They’re not sad tears, I’m- I’m really pissed.” You sniff, and Shinsou breathes a laugh.

His hand rubs smoothing circles into your back, and the feeling of his skin on yours feels better than you’d like to admit. It isn’t like Keigo, where you felt like your body was setting itself on fire trying to reject him. No, your body feels on fire for entirely different reasons.

You wipe furiously at your face and you’re sure you’ve smudged your makeup terribly. “I can’t believe him. Did you see what he did? How he grabbed me?”

Shinsou’s hand slides down and grabs your hand. “I saw.”

“Yes, you always do. If only you could’ve helped me.” You pout.

“Well, if it wouldn’t have ended with my head on a stake I’d have loved to jump to your rescue.” He muses, and you shake your head.

You rub at your eyes again and Shinsou huffs a laugh. You look at him curiously, and he points at your face. “Your mascara. You look like a panda.”

He swipes under you eyes slightly. “A very angry panda.”

“I am very angry. You should have heard what he was saying. Just disgusting. He’s a degenerate-”

“Princess-”

“He’s intolerable, he’s-”

“Y/N.” Shinsou says more firmly and your mouth clicks shut.

He looks good right now. His cheeks are slightly flushed from his run to find you, his hair so perfectly dishevelled and fluttering in the wind. He’s wearing a tux, a cheap one, but it still fits him perfectly, and from where he’s sitting the moon reflects over him in a way that makes him look a little otherworldly. Like something too good to be human.

You don’t catch what he says, too distracted by his pretty face to hear him. “Sorry, what?”

Shinsou smiles. “I said, why don’t I take you back to your room, and you can calm down and get yourself to bed.”

You bite at your lip. “What about my father?”

Shinsou waves you off. “He won’t say anything to you now. He’s too busy trying to calm down the crowd at the ball.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “God. I should not have done that.”

“It was quite attractive to watch.”

Your head shoots up, and he’s looking at you with a grin that should be illegal with the way it makes your toes curl in your heels. “Shut it.” You stand up, face on fire.

“Will do.”

He escorts you to your room quickly, avoiding any unwanted interactions. He stands guard outside your door, and you hear him turn away the few people who try to enter your room, insisting that you’re not well enough to talk to anyone. 

You wash your face slowly, wiping away the tear tracks and ruined makeup. You undress yourself as best as you can but you struggle after getting your heels and stocking off. You try your best to undo the corset on your dress, but it’s too difficult to untie on your own, the laces far back and way too tight. It took three people to get you in this dress. You won’t be enough to get you out of it.

After struggling for five minutes, you consider cutting yourself out of it. But the dress is too nice for that. There’s no maid you can ask. You’re too embarrassed to be seen by anyone right now. Except for the man standing outside your room.

You peek your head around your bedroom door. Shinsou is leaning against the wall, his tie loosened and his hand in his pockets.

“Shinsou.” You whisper. “Can you help me get this dress off?”

Shinsou raises a brow, his eyes flitting up and down your body. “You’re moving fast. Shouldn’t I propose first?”

“Shut up and get in here.” You scold and he follows your orders quickly. 

The door clicks shut softly behind him. The light in your room is dim, only coming from the few candles you have lit around the room. The place is always clean. The maids don’t let even a speck of dust land on any of your furniture, no clutter or any sort of mess. You're thankful for them, of course, but sometimes you feel like your room is a set, not somewhere you live. But it’s home, you suppose.

Shinsou definitely feels at home. In your bedroom, you two can ditch the boundaries you have to keep when you're in public. He stretches himself out on your bed, tossing his suit jacket onto the chair on your vanity.

You roll your eyes at him. “Can you stop stretching on my bed and help me?”

“Apologies.” He gets to his feet and stands behind you.

You move your hair out the way. This feels oddly reminiscent of this morning, but with your heart feeling a lot heavier than it did then. Shinsou nearly groans at the sight of the complicated knots of your corset.

“So many knots. Do they really all need to be here?”

“Well, unless you’d like me to reveal my chest to half the kingdom, then yes, they do.”

Shinsou laughs and his breath is warm against your neck. “I definitely don’t want that.”

He begins to untie them slowly. “Are you feeling better?”

You hum. “Slightly. The anger has faded and embarrassment has started to kick in.”

“It wasn’t embarrassing.” He reassures you.

“No, it was.”

“Maybe. It was entertaining, at least.”  He murmurs and you wince. “Is Keigo really that bad?”

You shake your head. “He’s worse. He told me that my father has basically chosen him to be my suitor.” 

Shinsou's hands freeze on your back. “He did?”

You try not to read into it. You really do, but it's late and you feel weak after crying, and you read it as everything you want it to be.

“Yes. But I won't.”

Shinsou finally untangles the last string, and your hands come up to hold the corset in place. “Y/N-”

“I don’t care. I can’t marry him.” You take a step away from Shinsou, like the distance will make the tension in the room any less stifling.

It doesn’t help. You can feel his presence behind you, can feel him looking at the contours of your back. He shouldn’t be seeing you like this, not even thinking about you like this, but you can't bring yourself to care.

“Because of the whole disgusting degenerate thing?” Shinsou teases lightly, but it falls flat.

“Yes. And something else.”

“The blond hair?” You know he’s trying to joke with you to make this easier. 

You don't fall for the bait.

Instead, you turn, and his face looks as full of yearning as your heart feels. And it’s the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s always looking at you, that gives you the courage to do what the two of you have been dancing around for months.

“You know why.” You whisper.

Shinsou breathes out, his body deflating. He steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.”

“Why? It’s about time, no?” You plead, and he shakes his head furiously.

“You can’t- We both can’t.” He snaps. He puts even more distance between the two of you, his knees hitting the back of your bed, and you rush to close it. 

“And why not? Are you not sick of this, this waiting between the two of us for something to happen?” You fidget with your corset, hastily tying it behind you so that it won’t fall as you walk after him.

He holds his hand out and you stop. He walks swiftly to the door, fingers itching against the handle. But he doesn’t leave. Shinsou just stands there.

“Because once we do this, we can never go back.”

“I don’t want to go back. I want- I-“

You look a mess. You’re sure of it. You’d ditched your crinoline so your dress hangs around your feet, and your corset is slanted across your chest from where you’d haphazardly tied it. Your face is bare and most likely tinted red from your efforts to scrub your makeup off. 

And still, he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And it makes your heart ache and you shake your head.

“I want you. I want you, Shinsou.” You whisper. “Not them. And I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

“Y/N.” His voice is strained. “Please.” 

“Every second I’m in those ridiculous balls I’m just waiting until I can see you. I- It’s always been you, Shinsou.”

He hasn’t said anything. Which is strange, because he never doesn’t have something to whisper under his breath, to murmur to you when you have to be serious. He’s just looking at you, eyes flitting between yours desperately, his fingers still wrapped around the handle. 

You fiddle with your hands nervously. “Shinsou. Please say something.” 

He doesn’t. You swallow roughly as the seconds drag on for what feels like hours.

“Okay. Okay, I just embarrassed myself for a second time today. It’s okay, you can leave. Pretend I said nothing.” You laugh awkwardly, trying to push him out the door. 

But he doesn’t budge. Shinsou finally lets go of the door and wraps his hand around yours. You don’t have time to question what he’s doing. Because in one swift motion, he’s pulling you towards him and closes the gap between the two of you, his lips pressing desperately against yours.

For a moment, you think you’re dreaming. Because this has been the subject of so many of your fantasies you don’t really think it’s happening.

But it’s real. His warm lips move against yours, and your teeth click against his, out of practice. His hands slide down from where they cup your cheek to grip your waist and pull you closer until your chest bumps into his. You let out a deep sigh, hands curling in his soft hair, tugging at the strands and eliciting a groan from his chest. His kiss is hungry. Years of feelings festering between the two of you thrumming through your veins. He breaks apart and his lips are slick with your spit, and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck.” His hands squeeze where they’re wrapped around your waist. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing.” You grin, pressing a soft one to his cheek, hands gliding over his muscular arms.

He shakes his head but he puts up no resistance as you kiss his cheeks again, then his jaw, and the soft junction of his neck. “This is stupid. We shouldn’t do this.” 

“We’re already doing it.” You whisper against his skin and Shinsou pulls you back to face him.

His voice is soft and serious when he speaks, and the heat in your stomach only worsens at the careful way he’s looking at you. “Y/N. I need you to be sure this is what you want. And I need you to understand how serious this is. ”

His hand cups your face and his thumb runs over the curve of your cheek. You’re sure you’re looking at him with stars in his eyes, and you nod frantically. “Very serious.”

Shinsou tongue pokes at his cheek and he gives your cheek a light tap. He grins at the way your eyes light up at the contact. “Be serious.”

You hum. “I am. And this is what I want.”

“Alright, then.” 

Shinsou turns you around and your back hits your bedroom door with a light thud. Your dress loops around the two of you and he smiles warmly. Long fingers wrap around your wrists, both his hands in one of yours, and he holds them above you as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. He’s not rushing anymore.  His kisses are slow and sensual, his tongue dancing against your own. He tastes sweet, like the desserts stacked on the dining tables in the ballroom. You ease into him, hands twitching as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Easy.” He murmurs. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to finish so quickly.” 

He lets go of your hands, and instead unties the loose knot in the back of your corset. He looks to you for permission but you’re already shucking it off, tossing it on the floor behind you. You feel a flutter of nerves as his eyes rake over your body. Your arms move to hide yourself but he tuts, pulling them out the way.

“Don’t do that.” He scolds. “I need to see you.” 

His fingers are calloused as they glide over your chest and under the thin fabric of your undergarments. When you don’t push him away he lets them glide over your nipples, as his leg pushes up to press between your thighs. He pinches them carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escapes you is muffled into his mouth. 

“So soft. So beautiful.” He sighs as you break apart, and your reply is lost in your throat as he sucks a soft red mark into your skin.

“Wait,” you breathe. “You can’t. The maids will see.” You curl your hands in his hair and pull him back up.

Despite the fact it should be, this isn’t the first time you’ve been with a man. You’ve always been rebellious, to say the least, and while you haven’t lost your virginity, you’ve practically done everything else. But for some reason, everything with Shinsou feels different, feels heightened. Your skin feels hot and your underwear feels slick and you can barely catch your breath. Shinsou is pressed into you and you can feel him, feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh.

“Shame. Would’ve loved to mark you.” He sighs, dropping to his knees.

“Shinsou, what-“

“Mark you and show you off to all those men who can’t keep their filthy hands off you.” He bundles up your skirt and ducks his head under it.

Your face burns as you look down at him. “Shinsou, what are you doing?” You mumble.

“Need to taste you.” He says it so matter-of-factory, like you’re the one that’s being ridiculous.

He slips your underwear down your legs in one swift motion and eases you out of them. You barely have time to react before Shinsou licks up the length of your pussy, long and hard, and you find yourself melting into his touch.

“Fuck.” You breathe out, bracing your hand against the wall. 

Shinsou hums against your skin, hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder. He’s done this before. You’re sure of it, because his tongue moves like it has a mind of its own, and your legs twitch as he laps over the soft flesh of your pussy. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs and he’s so insistent with his movements it feels like he’s trying to crawl his way inside of you.

He gives one firm lick over your clit and you keen. “Shinsou, please.” 

“I know, baby.” He detaches from you with a wet noise that makes your face burn. “I bet nobody has touched you like this before.”

Despite the fact you think you’re about to finish all over his face, you snort a laugh. “Do not be so sure.” 

Shinsou pauses his movement, mouth inches from your skin, his breath ghosting over your spit-soaked lips. You frown as he unhooks your leg from his shoulder, rising from underneath your dress to eye you suspiciously. 

“Somebody has?”

“Two somebodies, actually.” You smile at his ruffled hair and at what you think is jealousy clouding over his face.

“Is that so?” 

“It is.” You squirm a little, restless. “Can you please continue, now?”  

Shinsou doesn’t move though. His gaze doesn’t leave your face. “Were they good?”

So it is jealousy. In all honesty, they weren’t very good. The first time you’d been sixteen, young and rosy/cheeked and too giddy that you were even in the same proximity as a boy to focus too much on his handiwork. You did finish, so there’s that. The second time, you were older, and he had been a little more experienced. He hadn’t been the best, more concerned with you returning the favour than whether you were enjoying yourself.

But you’ve seen this look on Shinsou before, the jealousy that clouds his features when you’re even standing too close to another man, and you like it. 

“The best.”

Shinsou scoffs, ducking his head back down. You think he’s cursing someone under his breath, and your teasing retort is stolen from your lips as he thrusts two fingers inside you, his tongue resuming its work on your clit.

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. It occurs to you very fleetingly that if the two of you get caught, Shinsou is as good as dead. And while you’re sure that nobody will bother you after everything that happened tonight, if anyone passing by hears a single sound out of you, it’ll be over.

And it’s hard to stay quiet when Shinsou is so determined to get you to break. His fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out. You’re dripping down his palm, and your hips chase his lithe fingers, grinding yourself on him so he hits that soft spot inside you that makes the corners of your vision blur.

“I’m close. I’m close, Shinsou.” You pant.

“Hitoshi.” He purrs into your skin.

And all it takes is him sucking your clit deep into his mouth for you to finish with his name on your lips, your legs twitching and your fingers digging into his shoulder. He keeps at you until you’re pushing him away, whining until he unveils his head from under your dress once more.

His cheeks are flushed when he rises to his feet, and he pouts at you, cooing. “God, look at you. You’re a mess.” He pushes your hair back behind your ear and you only have enough energy to shoot him an unimpressed look.

“Come on. We aren’t finished yet, pretty girl.” 

It feels like it takes seconds for the two of you to undress and scramble onto your bed. The sheets are soft and cool your hot skin, and as you rest your head on your pillows, Shinsou crowds your vision. His hands grab your hips and move you into position beneath him. Your eyes rake over his naked body, the muscle of his arms and thighs, the scars that litter his body. Your fingers brush against the trail of hair leading down, and you watch with lidded eyes as he pumps himself slowly.

His other hand slides down and rubs at your sex and you squirm, still too overstimulated. “Oh, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

He adjusts himself at your entrance and you wait with bated breath for him to move. As soon as the head presses against your folds, you brace yourself. You’re sure his preparations were enough, but it’s been a while since you’ve had intercourse with another man. 

But he doesn’t go any further than that. He just rubs his tip up and down, right against your clit until your brain feels foggy and you could cum again just from that.

“Shinsou. Come on.” You whine. 

He tilts his head, completely unbothered despite the fact he’s so hard he’s leaking pre-cum all over you. “You know what to call me.”

“Hitoshi, please.” 

The corner of his lip tilts up, and the smirk on his face is just not fair.

“Tell me what you want.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “And I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you.” You breathe, eyes slipping shut.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. It’s always been you.” Shinsou’s nose rubs against yours and his sighs sound so relieved.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” 

You’re wet enough that when Shinsou finally starts to press into you, the slickness of your arousal makes it easy. You whine as your walls stress, and he hushes you, presses soft kisses into your skin until he’s fully seated inside you.

He’s barely moving. He holds himself up with one arm while the other grabs your waist, and his head is bent over your chest, his breaths long and hard. He just rocks his hips in a slow, filthy grind that draws the pleasure out. He thrusts in and out of you slowly. Like your his, like he has all the time in the world to lay you on your sheets and ruin you. 

“Need- I need you to be quiet. Okay?” He whispers against your lips. “We can’t let anybody hear us.”

Soft moans leave your lips but you nod regardless. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

Your cunt makes a lewd, wet sound as he pulls out and presses back in quickly, and you squirm at the fullness. And then he’s moving even faster, starting up a steady pace. The slap of his hips hitting yours echo around the room. Each thrust pushes you up the bed, and you hook your arms around his neck to brace yourself.

“So good,” he places wet, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. “So perfect.”

You couldn't respond if you tried. You’re too focused on the feel of his cock against your walls, all hot and aching, and the fact that you can’t make as much noise as you wish you could. Shinsou’s so long you think he’s reaching in parts of you nobody has before, and the sting of the stretch is completely overwhelmed by how good it feels.

“Feels so good, Hitoshi.” You gasp, and your nails dig into his back as he lifts your hips up.

“Perfect fucking pussy,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

The praise stirs in your stomach. His girl, his girl. It runs circles around your head as he drills into you. He’s watching your face so closely, your fucked-out expression as his hand comes up to tug at your nipple. 

You tug the soft hair at the nape of his neck to steady yourself. You want this to last longer, but you can already feel the coil tightening in your stomach as his cock drags in and out of you

“Hitoshi. I’m close.” You whine, and he nods.

“It’s okay, baby. You can come.” He uses a thumb to rub at your clit and he bites at your pulse and you can’t hold it in anymore.

Your walls clench around him and you both groan as you unravel around him. Your arousal drenches him as you convulse around him, your walls fluttering, and his breath stutters. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” He pants.

Shinsou works you through it until your legs are twitching beneath him. You fall back on the bed, but Shinsou doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, still hard and still not finished.

“Hitoshi. I can’t- S’too much.” You try and push him off.

“You can.” He orders, his voice low and a little mean.

He’s so commanding that you nod instantly, hands gripping his arms to brace yourself as you nod weakly. “I can.”

“You can.” 

He picks up the pace and he’s almost purring as he drills into you relentlessly. With a few more thrusts, Shinsou comes hard with your name on his lips, his head dropping onto your chest as he spills inside you. You’re still panting as he comes down from his high, a few more lazy, slow movements before he pulls out. 

Shinsou has his eyes on the mess between your thighs. He looks a little in awe. His pale skin is flushed red and his hair sticks to his forehead and he grins up at you.

“Look at that. Look what we did together.” He uses two fingers to fuck his cum back inside of you and you close your legs, pushing him away.

“Do not be disgusting.” 

“We are both disgusting. And sweaty.” 

He drops down beside you with a heavy sigh and wraps his arms around you. You lean into his chest, eyes slipping shut.

“I need to bathe.” You mumble. You doubt you will, though. Your limbs feel too heavy to move.

“Me too. Shall I join you?” He ponders, fingers trailing up and down your bare legs.

You smile slightly. “Maybe you should.” 

Part of you still thinks you will blink and this will all have just been a dream. But Shinsou is still beside you when you open your eyes. The glow of your orgasms fades, and with it, suddenly comes the panic of what the two of you have just done.

“Oh my god. What have we done?” You shoot up into a sitting position and cover your face with your hands.

“We had sex.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “We had sex. We had sex. I lost my virginity to my butler.” You splutter.

Shinsou frowns. “Don’t say it like that.”

“But it is like that.”

Shinsou tugs at your arm. “We can panic later. Let’s sleep now, yes?” 

You let him pull your back down. You nod and swallow roughly. “Okay. Yes. We should sleep. While we still have bed and board, and my father hasn’t disowned me.” 

Shinsou snorts. “Calm down. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”