Wooden Kittens Can't Talk

Unless You Carve Them A Voice Box

Shinsou grows desperate, you grow annoyed. Slowly but surely, you give in.

~

Two weeks had passed. Two weeks. The tension in the house was thick and heavy enough that if Shinsou gave you access to the knives you could probably cut it in half. When he left his room in the morning his eyes always looked rimmed red, cheeks puffy and voice gravelly like he had been crying.

You tried to ignore it, ignore him, but there wasn't much space in a house as small as his. You couldn't help but wonder how different things would be if you just gave in. If you just talked to him. If you started the conversation, and if you were just careful and listened closely to how he ended his sentences, there was no way he could use his quirk on you.

You contemplated that train of thought for a solid two days. Even though it seemed safe, what if he said something you didn't catch? What if he thought it was an offering - a way of you saying that you're ready, that you're willing to do relationship things with him?

Goosebumps rose on your skin and anxiety built in your chest at the thought of it. You can't talk to him, but you also can't deal with this anymore. You can't deal with his longing stares, his pitiful sighs, his not-so-secret crying sessions that last late into the night.

You just can't.

Shinsou is a late sleeper. With you sleeping in the living room, you tended to wake up along with or just a little bit after sunrise. If Shinsou is up before you, then he didn't sleep at all. You'd wake up and lay on the little futon for hours, fiddling with anything you could hold while watching the dying flames of the fire. As of late, you've taken to fiddling with the wooden kitten he left on the coffee table. You ignored how he had carved both your and his initials on the bottom.

It was a morning similar to many others, you curled up on the futon, fingers gliding over the little kitten. The fire was only glowing embers now, the woody smell of cedar wafting through the house. You looked up at the circular clock on the wall. 7:34 am. You listened carefully and Shinsou's quiet snoring reached your ears. He's still asleep. Quietly, you whispered to the little kitten that was cradled in your palm.

"Should I do something?"

It stared blankly at you, and you sighed in defeat. Hoisting yourself up from the futon, making sure to put the blanket back in its place, the cat still cradled in one of your hands, you walked over to the kitchen. Quietly opening the cabinet, you searched out the coffee cup Shinsou had apparently specifically bought for you. It was a mug painted with the pattern of a calico cat, its tail was the handle, and two little ears sat on the rim.

As you placed it down on the counter and were about to close the door, you eyed the absurd amount of other coffee cups that Shinsou owned. Sighing, you looked over to Shinsou's closed door. Reluctantly, you grabbed a plain black mug and set it down next to the machine. With a sense of finality, you closed the door, and began to make not one, but two drinks. Carefully holding both of the drinks in one hand, you walked over to Shinsou's room. As quietly as you could, you turned the handle, and slipped inside of the dark bedroom.

You had been in here multiple times before. The first two weeks or so of being in the house you had been chained to the bed, and Shinsou had no reservations against cuddling up against you to take a cat nap. Looking inside of it now, you shuddered. Shinsou was laying flat on his back, arms splayed out  and blankets kicked down to his knees. The white tank top he was wearing was pushed up to his ribs and his grey sweatpants were slung low on his hips. You set the coffee mugs down on the side table and pointedly ignored his unkempt lavender colored treasure trail.

You stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do now that you were here. Not that you really had a plan in the first place, to be completely honest.

Do I wake him up..?

Your hand hovered over his arm, hesitant in what you were to do. Shinsou shifted and you quickly pulled your hand to your chest, fear of being discovered taking over. He moved onto his side, now facing completely towards you. He muttered something to himself, and you just barely caught it. Softly, through a snore, he murmured your name. Your eyes widened in surprise, a fluttery feeling erupting in your stomach.

Oh god, is this what Stockholm Syndrome is? You hear your captor mumble your name in his sleep and suddenly you're feeling butterflies? Sheesh.

Then, all of the sudden, an idea popped into your head. Remembering what Shinsou said a few weeks ago, you eyed the empty space next to your kidnapper. Maybe you don't have to talk to him quite yet, but a nap should be harmless, right? You took another moment to hype yourself up before slowly climbing in next to Shinsou.

When you settled in next to him, you released a breath you didn't even know you were holding, and sunk into the sinfully comfortable mattress. Reaching down, you pulled the flannel sheets and cotton bedspread up to your shoulders. Listening to Shinsous even breaths and his heartbeat thumping loudly with your head so close to his chest, you felt yourself drifting off faster than you ever had on the futon.

A few hours later, Shinsou awoke slowly. He felt disoriented and way warmer than he was used to being. He tried to shift, but there was a heavy object in his way. Confused, he opened his eyes only to freeze at what he saw. There  Y/N was, all curled up into his chest, sleeping peacefully. Peeking up, he noticed two coffee cups sitting on the side table, obviously gone cold by now. A melty smile slid onto his face, and he felt happy tears prick at his eyes.

Carefully, as to not wake you up, Shinsou scooped you closer to him, tucking your head under his chin. On instinct, your arms moved to wrap around his waist and you nuzzled into his chest, mumbling a few sleepy noises as you went. Shinsou had to bite his lip to contain his happy noises, unable to hold back his smile. He pressed a few quick kisses to your head, taking deep breaths, giddy that he was so close to you he could.

Shinsou's lower lip trembled as he held back tears, so utterly ecstatic that you trusted him enough to cuddle close to him like this. So happy that he could hold you like he's always wanted to. A few tears slipped out, and he pressed another soft kiss to your hair. He shifted a bit, and sucked in a tight breath at something slightly sharp poked him in the side. Moving as quietly and carefully as he could not to disturb you, he swished his hand around until he located the source of his pain.

Grabbing it, he lifted it so he could see just what was in his bed. Surprise colored his face as he saw that it was in fact the cat he whittled for you. Wondering just how it got in his bed, he looked down to see you sleepily patting the surrounding space, obviously looking for something. With an eyebrow raised, he placed the object in your hands, and giddiness rose in his chest when he saw you grip it tight and pull it to your chest. He exhaled a loving sigh, and laid back down, pulling you closer to him.

He had four more months living with you like this until winter ended, and hey, maybe by the end of it, you'll love him just as much as he loves you.