dreamyyghost

[dreamyyghost]

new guy is actually cute ngl

#genshin impact #genshin

[dreamyyghost]

Important questions.

#genshin impact #genshin #childe #tartaglia

[dreamyyghost]

Oh, The Power Of An Undercover Mission - Shōta Aizawa X GN Reader

Title: Oh, The Power Of An Undercover Mission

Shōta Aizawa X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Nezu, Toshinori Yagi (Mentioned), Hizashi Yamada (Mentioned), Oboro (Mentioned), and the LOV (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 7,370

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, cursing, yelling, Reader has an unspecified quirk, banter, teasing, bickering, undercover newlyweds mission, Aizawa being himself, alcohol, nicknames, small bit of jealousy, confession, angst, and fluffy ending

"Mind my language, but what the hell, Nez!?" You exclaimed, eyes widening at your long-time friend's words, "You can not be serious! I- I can't work with him, and you know that." You insisted, "There’s a reason why you have my class in a whole separate section of the building."

Principle Nezu just gave you a grin, sipping his tea, "I understand completely that you believe that he is unfit to be your partner in this mission." He spoke, setting down his white teacup. You inwardly sighed. It wasn’t that you thought he was unfit to be your partner, you just didn’t want to work with him. "But you and Aizawa's quirks are so well matched that I think it would be beneficial for you two to work together. Though I doubt you’d need to use them." Nezu finished simply.

"I know that, but I can not work with him," You insisted, waving your arms about wildly as you felt a wave of panic and anxiety rush through you, "He's- He's stoic and apathetic-"

Nezu raised a finger to silence you, "Please, Y/N." He pleaded, "I have known you for long enough. I have watched you grow into an incredible person as a student and now teacher both intellectually, but also emotionally. I believe that you are absolutely capable of being within his presence for less than twenty-four hours. It is just one mission. You’ll be going your separate ways before you know it." Leaning back in his chair, he grinned, "I know that things will be tough for the both of you, but I know that you'll come back from the mission with the important information that we need."

You let out a sigh through your nose, running your hands through your hair before nodding hesitantly; reluctantly. "I understand, but Nez, please answer me this... How come it has to be Aizawa - aside from how well our quirks complement each other... Could there have been anyone else? I mean, there has to be somebody..."

"Why yes, there was one other option, someone whose quirk would’ve perfectly complimented your own." Nezu answered, "But, unfortunately, we lost them a long time ago..." Principle Nezu's voice then lowered, "You may know of whom I speak of."

Shutting your eyes, you nod once, dropping your head; your hands landing on your hips, "Yes, I do." You muttered before clearing your throat, "Have you told Aizawa about this arrangement yet?"

Nezu’s almost haunted expression turned into a bright smile at your question, "Nope! I thought you would like to tell him! I have papers to look at now. You leave tonight!" He spoke eccentrically, slipping off of his chair with a folder in hand. Handing you the said folder, he began to push you out of his office before giving you one last smile and shutting the door.

Letting out a deep huff, you looked down at the folder in front of you, "Let's get this over with."

Gaining the courage, you began walking down the school's halls, heading towards Aizawa’s class; reading as much as you could as you walked. He was sure to be in a class at the moment, but you wanted to get this over with as soon as humanly possible. Stopping just near the door of his classroom, you brushed your hair back, trying to look presentable and not like you had just had a small panic attack in the principal's office.

Letting out a small breath, you raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound reverberating off the empty hall walls. You waited for a moment - the murmuring of his students inside the classroom silencing - looking down at the ground at your shoes, the door opened with a small creek. Looking up, you cleared your throat, handing him the folder.

“Aizawa,” You greeted lightly as Aizawa stared at you with his tired, crimson eyes, raising an eyebrow before taking the folder from your hand. 

“L/N…” He quietly flipped the folder open as you stuffed your hands in your pants pockets, looking anywhere but at him; finding the odd, discolored spot on the wall opposite of you very interesting. This was already awkward enough.

"A mission?" He asked simply, his deep voice startling you slightly as you spun your head around to nod.

"Uh, yeah. Nezu said that it was important. It’s for tonight... It's going to be a gathering... Ah, uh, a party, with some of the smaller villains." You answered, "He said it'd take less than twenty-four hours to find out what the League is going to be targeting next."

Aizawa hummed, staring down at the folder's information. "I can do this alone."

Dropping your jaw, you stared up at him in shock, "No way! You'll stick out like a sore thumb! We have to go together."

"I can get it done alone." He insisted, glancing up at you and giving you a hard stare, "I don't need your help."

"Whether you like it or not, I have to go. I don't want this any more than you do." You stated plainly, crossing your arms against your chest. Aizawa continued to glare at you, clenching one of his fists tightly for a second before letting out an irritated sigh.

"Try not to mess this up." He replied gruffly, closing his folder once more.

Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed softly, "Like I could mess anything up." You said, grabbing the folder from him, "Meet me in my office once you're done with class, please."

Without waiting for a response, you turned and stalked away, feeling a small bit of relief once you were out of sight of him. Turning the corner, and down another hall, you enter your office. Sighing, you leaned against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on the ground, legs coming up to your chest. Shutting your eyes, you softly leaned your head back against your door. 

How were you going to survive this?

~~~

Ever since you were both in UA as students, you and Aizawa have always been at each other's throats. Well... That all wasn't all true. In fact, you really liked him. Even if he was a little cold and emotionless most of the time; possibly a bit socially awkward. You knew that there was something deeper beneath his facade, though. Your gut instinct was telling you that you needed to get closer to him. But after three years of trying to befriend him, he still didn't trust you. He didn’t really speak to you, or much of anything else... And you certainly weren't going to force him to be friends with you if he didn’t want to be. So you stopped trying.

It wasn't until you had risen above his grades in your last year at UA that the real war began. Finally, after years, you accidently got a reaction out of him. For that last year, Aizawa was insistent on getting better marks than you, beating you at all the training, sparring, and making you lose sleep and energy constantly with worry and stress, which resulted in him finally winning in the end.

So, that initial interest and curiosity that you had towards him, turned into pure irritation. The feeling was mutual. He seemed to have hated you for beating him so easily, and on some many different occasions. But, years later, you were both adults. You were a Pro Hero, and a damn good one. And so was he. But it was very hard to just let bygones be bygones. Especially when interacting with each other, it felt like you were both back to being students in UA; determined and stubborn. 

~~~

It wasn't long until you heard a knock on your office door, making you look up from the papers that you were grading. "Enter." You called out, watching as Aizawa opened the door and entered the room, folder in hand. "What's your plan, then?" You asked, pushing the rest of the papers to the side. You knew better than to think that he’d allow you to take charge of the mission. No matter how much you wanted to take that leadership role, you didn’t want a fight to break out. The faster you and he worked this out, the faster the mission will be.

"It starts at five," He began, placing the folder on your desk as he surveyed your office, "We will have to take your car... It's about a thirty-minute drive from here."

"Well, that's not a problem for me." You replied, standing up from your chair, and walking around the desk, "What's our alibi?"

"Did you even read the paperwork?" He then asked, sounding a bit annoyed as he turned around, leaning against your desk.

You sputtered slightly, whipping your head around to stare at him beside you, "Of course, I did!" You lied, "I just didn't know the plan, codenames, etcetera..." You trailed off, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. “Honestly, I don’t even think we’ll need codenames or anything. We’re basically just listening in on people’s conversations.”

Aizawa sighed, ignoring your last comments, "We're newlyweds. And this is our first-anniversary celebration."

You nearly choked on your spit, "I'm sorry- We're what?!" You asked incredulously, looking at him, your eyes were wide as he kept his usual bored - annoyed - expression.

"You heard me." He spoke, turning and opening the folder, pointing at a section of a page, "The only way we'd get into the event is being a couple or else-"

"Or else we'd look suspicious... I get it." You grumbled, leaning against your desk beside him, crossing your arms as you looked over his shoulder to get a better look at the papers. Being so close to him, you could smell hints of vanilla wafting from him. You never expected him to smell like vanilla… ‘I like vanilla. And was that sandalwood?’ You suddenly felt slightly frustrated with yourself, brushing those thoughts away; unblurring your eyes as you rapidly blinked them. ‘Get your head in the game, Y/N.’ "Where is this taking place again?"

"At the Natsukashii Plaza Hotel."

"Ah, fancy..." You mumbled, reading the names of some of the people that would be there. You recognized a few lesser-known villains and other criminals. There would be a lot of powerful people in one room... It was a slightly risky mission, and the only way for this to work would be for you to keep calm and collected. Which was usually easy for you to do, but you were a bit worried since this was a large environment, and you’d have to work closely with someone that hated you. Narrowing your eyes on a page, you scoffed, "Those are our codenames?"

"I wasn't the one who came up with them." Aizawa stated, not even glancing up at you, "It is not my fault you don't like the name."

You gave him a look, “I’m not saying it is,” He didn't reply, closing the folder and setting it back onto your desk.

"I'll pick you up at four-thirty."

You blinked. "What?" You turned to look over at him as he pushed himself off of leaning on your desk beside you.

"I said-" His hardened glare narrowed down at you.

"No, I know what you said." You cut him off, uncrossing your arms as you waved a dismissive hand in the air, "Just- What? Am I supposed to dress in something nice, then?"

Turning to make his way to your office door, he answered, "You do know what a formal event is, correct?"

"Yes, of course, I do." You spat back, narrowing your eyes as you stared at the back of his head, "I just have a few more questions."

"Which are..?" He asked, turning to face you fully, the same expression on his face. 

Oh, how you wished you could just do the mission on your own, but Nezu said it was an important mission, and you understood that Aizawa’s quirk matched well with yours. You understood that, and knew that, all throughout your own schooling at UA. But he frustrated you beyond belief. Why couldn't he just be nice to you?

Eyes flickering across the floor, you raised a hand, running it through your hair once more; tugging slightly at the roots, "Do we have an exit strategy? Who do we try to speak to, to get the information that we need? Or do we just try to overhear conversations?"

"We can figure that out on the way." He answered plainly, making you huff.

"What if there's an emergency, then?" You tried to ask, only for him to turn away from you once again, his hand grabbing your office door knob.

"You've been on missions before, L/N, this one is no different." He stated before leaving without another word.

You huffed again, rolling your eyes before pushing yourself off of the desk and walking around it. Sitting down, you stared at the yellow folder on your desk, closed and waiting for you to reopen it. Resting your elbows on your desk, you rubbed your tired eyelids with the palms of your hands. breathing out a deep sigh, you dropped your hands and looked to your left side, glancing at the clock. 

After work would be a good time to find something suitable to wear for this mission, you decided. You tried to push the thoughts of Aizawa out of your head, but it was difficult. Every single time you thought of the man you got this weird fluttering sensation in your stomach that almost made you want to throw up. He frustrated you to no end. And somehow, someway, you felt drawn to him still. Even after all these years of wanting and needing to hate him, you still found yourself- No, no... You shook your head. You do hate him. He was rude to you, no matter how many times you tried to play nice and be kind to him, he was still rude to you. He didn't deserve to spend so much time in your head and heart.

But he did.

You needed to get back to work, you had things to do, and you only had a couple more hours left in the school day before you had to get ready for this mission. So, you really needed to get your students' papers graded.

~~~

The tick-tocking of the clock on your living room wall was beginning to irritate you. It was coming up to four-fifteen, and you were beyond anxious. You sat on your couch, your leg bouncing like crazy, dressed pretty nice enough for a party of this stature. Aside from your attire, you had done everything else you needed to do to get ready; hair and so on. You looked amazing and you knew that. But every second spent sitting and waiting for him was torture. You didn’t know why you both had to use your car, or why Aizawa couldn’t have just picked you up in his car.

You knew that this whole 'pretending to be newlyweds' thing was going to be difficult - your mental health was already shot to hell; there was too much on your plate as it is. How could you possibly pretend to be happy and all lovey-dovey with him when your real-life relationship with him was anything but? You have done many missions before - more than you could count, but none of them had you pretending to be a couple with anyone. And with Aizawa of all people... 

Your mind began to wander... You'd have to hold hands, link arms... What if you had to kiss? You didn't possibly think that that would have to happen, but it made your skin buzz and your heart race at just the thought. The thought of Aizawa actually liking you, the thought of him actually caring about you... Well, it scared you, and saddened you. You had tried so hard to push down any feelings you had for him down into the depths of your very soul, that you were worried that any sort of fake affection Aizawa gives you, or any sort of physical contact, would bring back those feelings, and break you entirely.

You shook your head, trying to stop yourself from having such thoughts, your heart still racing, and your hands beginning to feel slightly clammy, you clenched your fists; feeling your quirk rushing through you as you tried to calm yourself down, only for you to hear a knock at your door. You snapped your eyes from your clenched hands to the door, and you reluctantly stood.

Your steps felt heavy as you walked over to your front door, taking a short peek through the peephole. There he stood, his form distorted from the peephole lens. You let out a deep sigh, shutting your eyes and taking in a deep breath before gaining the courage and opening the door. 

Aizawa stuffed his hands into the pockets of his all-black suit, his eyes staring tiredly at the potted windowsill planter filled with different types of flowers - of yellow and red hues. His shoulders were slouched, ever-so-slightly, his body feeling as tired as his eyes did. He tried to take a small nap - during class - and before walking over to pick you up, but his mind was so busy that it was difficult to even get a couple of minutes of sleep. 

Hearing the door open, Aizawa pulled his red eyes from your flowers, letting them fall on you. He took in your attire, presentable enough for a party such as the one that you were - sort of forced - to attend.

Aizawa's chest tightened slightly as he cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" He spoke up, irritation laced his words and you nodded. 

"Of course," You muttered, a small frown on your face, "Are you driving or am I?" You asked as you shut the door behind you, dangling the keys from your fingers, and making Aizawa huff out a sigh. You took in his own attire as you waited for him to answer, taking note of his all-black suit, and even the way he pulled his hair up in a small ponytail; you took the chance to finally see his face that was usually mostly covered by the black mop he called his hair. Overall, the outfit looked perfect for the night. You bit your lip. "You look..." You started, stopping yourself from saying handsome. You swallowed your pride and continued, "You look nice." Nope, still awkward.

Aizawa stared at you, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a wave of surprise filter through his eyes; his eyes widening slightly, but enough for you to notice. "You can drive. I'm tired." He then said, completely ignoring your compliment, and you pursed your lips.

Nodding your head and moving around him, you stepped down the small set of stairs down to the sidewalk. "As you always are," You muttered, not that it was his fault that he was tired all the time, you knew that it was a major drawback from his quirk. Unlocking your car with a small click of your keys, you continued, "I hope you can get some sleep before we get there." You slid into the driver's seat, Aizawa following and slipping into the passenger seat. "I don't want you falling asleep on the job." You finished, sounding slightly concerned as you started your car's engine. 

~~~

"We're here," You spoke as you pulled up to an empty parking spot at the hotel. Shutting off the engine, you turned to look over at Aizawa, seeing him asleep. Your shoulders drooped as you watched Aizawa's chest rise and fall slowly, his mouth slightly open, the bags under his eyes seemed darker than usual, and his hair that wasn't tied; hung loosely against his forehead as the side of his head pressed against the chilled window. He seemed so at peace, and you almost felt terrible waking him, but you both had a job to do. Raising your hand, you hesitated slightly before gently nudging his shoulder, and from just your slight touch, he jolted awake. You pulled your hand back in surprise, watching as Aizawa blinked his still-tired eyes, looking out the front windshield. "We're here," You repeated, in a slightly softer tone.

Aizawa said nothing, nodding, unbuckling himself. Opening his suit jacket, he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a silver band. A ring. You blinked, eyes widening as Aizawa silently handed the ring to you before he pulled out a similar one and slid it on his own ring finger. You dropped your gaze to the ring lying on the palm of your hand. Clearing your throat, you got over the initial shock and slid the ring on your finger. Staring at your hand, with the ring, you felt something inside your chest begin to tighten.

Opening your car door, you climbed out, closing the door and locking it before turning to see Aizawa standing in front of your car. You didn't even notice him get out of your car. You met his eyes, which held a mixture of confusion and annoyance, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

"We don’t have all night." He finally spoke up, before offering his arm out to you.

You rolled your eyes slightly, looping your arm around his, and placing your other hand on your hand; locking yourself onto his arm and allowing him to lead you to the hotel entrance where the party would be held.

Immediately as you stepped into the large room, you entered the lion's den. You quickly scanned your surroundings and you were surprised that you actually recognized some of the lesser-known villains who were all chatting; sipping champagne, and seemingly having a grand ol' time.

It surprised you even more that how easy it was for you and Aizawa to even enter the main part of the hotel plaza where the event was taking place. It irked you how sure these villains were that no heroes would try to enter. There weren't even any guards... You had to hold back a smirk and scoff; these villains must have been very confident. But then again, most of their power came from their quirks, and they could easily use their quirks to overpower you. But you highly doubted that they could. 

As Nezu had said, and what you have always known, you and Aizawa were a very powerful duo. The combination of both of your quirks was simply too powerful to go against. Maybe not as powerful as Toshinori, but still. If the two of you worked together, the odds were stacked in your favor. Plus, you were smart enough to know that there were three separate entrances to the venue. So just in case anything were to happen - which you hoped wouldn't - you and Aizawa could easily escape if need be. 

You looked over at Aizawa, who watched the large room carefully with his own eyes. His whole body seemed tense as he surveyed, and took in every detail. You dropped your gaze, your ears taking in the music playing; hearing it echoing beautifully throughout the room. Your eyes lifted from the marble floor to the dancing villains. They were dancing wildly, twirling and spinning, moving faster and faster until they became blurs to you; matching the upbeat orchestra perfectly. You couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight.

With a short tug, you looked up at Aizawa, who looked down at you with an eyebrow raised. He gestured to the dancefloor with his eyes, his frown deepened. "No.” He simply said.

“We should.” You stated, raising your own eyebrow.

"We are not dancing." He stated firmly.

"I think we are," You insisted stubbornly, "It would help us, wouldn't it? Blend in? We’re sitting ducks."

Aizawa stared at you, narrowing his eyes slightly before nodding. Without another word, he began to lead you to the dance floor. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach swarming, and the feeling only intensified as Aizawa wrapped his arm around your waist. You watched with bated breath as he took your hand, your free hand automatically coming up to rest on his shoulder. Quickly, you became very impressed - and shocked - as Aizawa began to lead you into a waltz. His usual tense posture settled, his eyes never leaving yours.

His movements were as smooth as ever; the sound of your shoes on the cold, hard floor, and the beat of the music resonating within the room echoed around you. The music, while slow-paced, carried a sense of energy, yet at the same time, it was leisurely and soothing. You almost found this scenario romantic. You couldn't find words, your eyes just staring up into his scarlet eyes.. And you couldn't look away. 

And for a moment, in the slightest of moments, you forgot all about the people milling around you and the noise. You forgot about the mission, and the years of bickering back and forth. You forgot about everything, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his skin on yours and the way his eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. Your mind became clouded with thoughts; thinking about when you first met, remembering him all those years ago, and about your feelings. So quiet, so handsome, so intelligent he was, and more so to this day. His hair still looked so soft, even back then, it had been shorter too; you remembered. Your eyes found themselves admiring the dark locks of his hair. Your hand on his shoulder twitched at the thought of running your fingers through it. Your heart pounded against your ribcage; your breath hitched. Those feelings, though hidden for years, were resurfacing; and resurfacing fast.

Before you knew it, you were quickly snapped out of your head, your ears picking up on a conversation. You strained your ears, turning your head just slightly to catch a glimpse of the couple that were dancing only a couple of feet from you. You did not know them, the man and woman, but they were talking about the League Of Villains. 

"-they're going to attack some hospital." You heard from the man, glancing up at Aizawa to see if he was hearing the same thing as you, and with the slight change in his eyes, you knew he was.

"To get All-Might to show, I am sure." The woman chuckled wickedly, making you inwardly sigh. 

Raising an eyebrow towards Aizawa, he only silently huffed in response before the man spoke up again, "Wasn't your mother recently discharged from that hospital?"

"Oh, yes," The woman nodded as she spoke, "I'm glad she won't be there Thursday when they come."

As the song came to an end, Aizawa was more than happy to lead you out and away from the dancefloor, finding a spot near the bar. Leaning against the back of the bar, you turned slightly to wave down the bartender.

"You're drinking?" Aizawa asked, and you nodded, as the bartender walked over; allowing you to order your drink.

"I trust you with driving me home," You spoke simply, as the bartender went to make your drink. "So," You began, looking up at him, arms crossed, "What do you think, husband?" The word felt foreign on your tongue, but almost felt too easy to say out loud.

"You know what I think," Aizawa muttered, eyeing the bartender as he made your drink, narrowing his eyes at the glass of liquor as he slid it to you. It wasn't poisoned, thankfully... Hopefully. 

You took the drink in your hand, swirling the liquid around in the glass, you pursed your lips, "I do," In the silence, you felt the back of your neck itch as a tense, uncomfortable atmosphere filled the air between you and Aizawa. You didn't know why - well, you did - but you found yourself staring at him. You cleared your throat quietly, looking back down at your drink, your mouth opening but Aizawa quickly spoke up.

"You look nice..." He commented bluntly, repeating your words from when he came to pick you up, quickly catching you by surprise. You blinked owlishly, unsure how to respond to his sudden compliment, and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Feeling your face flush, you shook your head slightly, biting your lip.

"And you look exhausted," You laughed out, looking back up at him with a smile.

"Why, thank you-" He cut himself off before rolling his eyes. Although his tone sounded sarcastic, the faint smile that stretched across his lips gave away the fact that he was amused by your remark - at least somewhat. "I'm fine, though," He added after a moment of awkward silence passed between you. And at that small glimpse of his smile, you felt that fluttering feeling in your chest once again. God, why did it have to be like this?

"I'm going to mingle, see if I can find anything else out," You spoke up in a soft mutter only he could hear after taking one sip from your drink, and setting it down on the bartop, "You'll be alright without me, right, dearest?" You asked, shifting your weight slightly as you tilted your head.

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes slightly before nodding. "Of course, love," He responded, and that made you pause. Looking up at him, you blinked before you got yourself together and gave him a small - almost shy and nervous - smile, walking into the crowd.

Aizawa watched you go, eyeing all the villains as you passed them. Dropping his gaze from you, he eyed your drink. You had hardly taken even a sip, the soft pink colored drink just sitting there out in the open. Aizawa moved his hand against the bartop, pausing just at your drink before he slid the drink further from his and yours spot. The bartender then took the drink away, giving Aizawa a nod before he began to help the others at the bar. Eyeing some of the people that also stood at the bar, Aizawa tried to listen in on anything, but with no such luck. No one else had been talking about the League’s evil plans. 

He sighed, becoming bored, his eyes finally moving to find you, spotting you conversing with someone. That someone, Aizawa knew - who was obviously some sort of villain - was making you laugh. Whatever he said made your smile widen and that melodic laughter filled the room; sending chills down Aizawa's spine. Even through the music playing he could recognize and hear your voice clearly. 

Aizawa hadn't even realized that he was staring. His dark red eyes glaring holes into the side of the villain's head. He didn't know who the lesser-known villain was, and he didn't care to find out. All Aizawa knew was that he didn't like how close he was to you. Forcing himself to look away, he allowed himself to look anywhere else but at you. 

Aizawa had known you for years, having gone to UA with you. He remembered you to be friendly - kind to everyone - and very skilled at fighting and mastering your quite powerful quirk. In the very beginning, Aizawa found you slightly annoying, always bright and sunny. And for some odd reason, you really wanted to be friends with him. But, that annoyance slowly became something different. Something he hadn't noticed. Something he didn't want to notice. Something he wanted to fight tooth and nail to prevent, even if he knew it wasn't possible. He knew he shouldn't be feeling these things; these emotions. Feelings were dangerous. They caused trouble. They led to bad decisions. They led to regret. And all Aizawa wanted to do was study hard, work hard, and get on with life. So, like most emotions - that wasn't annoyance, boredom, and exhaustion - he tucked them away.

Then came the last year of UA, you had stopped trying to befriend him. Seeing that you were getting nowhere with him, and he did have to admit that he wasn’t the… Nicest when speaking to you. But suddenly you were getting better grades than him. This incident - playfully called 'the war' by Hizashi - began. You had gotten better marks than Aizawa, and he quickly became insistent on beating you. He knew he shouldn't care, and that in the end, it didn't at all matter who was on top, but he couldn't help it. He tried to push you down, studying harder each night. Training with Toshinori and Hizashi whenever he could. But you were stronger than you showed to everyone else, stronger than you showed even to yourself. 

At some point in the last year, your teachers stopped pairing the two of you against each other for training. Aizawa and your quirks, when used together, created an almost deadly combination - both powerful and destructive. Training usually ended up with the both of you in the medical wing after a draw. 

"Hey, are you ready to go? I couldn’t find anything.” You muttered that last part. 

Aizawa turned his head from staring blankly at a wall, his tired eyes meeting yours. "Hmm?" He hummed, making your small smile drop, and your eyebrows to furrow.

"Are you alright?" You asked, only for Aizawa to nod stiffly, his hand quickly taking yours before leading you out of the hotel.

You followed, almost tripping at times with how quickly he was moving, and - somehow - not bringing any attention to the both of you. These smaller villains really were dimwitted. You looked up at Aizawa, watching the side of his face. His lips were turned into a deep frown, his eyes half-lidded, tired, and seemingly irritated as usual. You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him before turning to watch in front of you. Aizawa was back to his usual, cold self; you were sure.

Stopping at your car, Aizawa dropped your hand as quickly as he grabbed it, and funnily enough, you missed his warmth. Without even looking at you, he held out his hand, palm up, and with a scoff, you dropped your keys into his awaiting hand. You silently slipped into the passenger seat of your car, buckling and crossing your arms. The drive home was tense, and it felt hard to swallow. You didn't dare to look at him while the both of you sat next to each other in complete silence.

You finally glanced over at him when you reached your home and he parked the car. His hands held onto the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes stared ahead, the same cold expression on his face. You were confused, and a bit frustrated. You had thought that maybe he was beginning to like you when you were at that party. He joked with you, he even smiled at you, but as quickly as you thought that you made some sort of progress in getting to know him - even just slightly - he was right back to his old self. He was just like before, cold and distant - and you wanted answers.

"Why do you hate me?" You suddenly asked, and Aizawa turned his head to meet your gaze. There was no response. Instead, he merely continued to stare right at you with those red eyes. How his cold, unfeeling expression never changed. The look in those eyes was unnerving. It unsettled you; it made you feel weak - for the first time in forever - like you were nothing to the Underground Hero. 

He looked away from you, and you could basically see the gears turning in his head before he spoke, "I don't hate you."

You sighed deeply, rubbing your temples before pinching the bridge of your nose. "You have a funny way of showing it." You shot back.

"I don't hate you," He repeated, his tone firmer now. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning back against your car's leather seat and closing your eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. You opened your eyes again when you heard him shift uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't hate you at all."

"Then why do you act all..." You trailed off, waving your hand in the air slightly as you tried to find the right words to say, "Act all rude and grumpy to me?" You finished your sentence softly, "I mean, I thought that we were doing okay. You weren’t acting all grumpy when we were at the party. You even smiled. And then you just switch on me. And you’re back to your stoic attitude. I don't think I did anything to you to deserve that. Did I do something wrong? Have I done anything to offend you?"

"No," He muttered quietly, glancing over at you before returning his eyes to the road, dropping his hands from the wheel. "No, you didn't," He agreed. 

"Well then, what is it?" You demanded, your voice still soft, but still holding hints of frustration. You weren't about to let this opportunity slip through your fingers. Not again. 

Aizawa pursed his lips, taking in a deep breath before looking at you. And he surprised you with the expression on his face. Soft... Not cold, nor angry, but warm... Almost tender. You bit down on your bottom lip, forcing yourself not to look away, and you were more than sure that your eyes were beginning to trick you. Because you were sure that you saw his eyes flicker from yours to your lips and back. No, you thought. It's just your mind playing tricks on you. Nothing more.

"It's just..." He started, pausing as he pulled his hair out from the ponytail, and running a hand through his hair; sighing heavily. "Why are you so desperate to get to know me?"

"What?" Was all that left your mouth. That was not what you were expecting him to say at all. 

Aizawa began to internally panic, shaking his head as he went to grab the car's door handle, "Nevermind. I'll see you at UA."

Eyes widening, you shook your own head, "Wait, Shōta" You reached out for him, your hand coming to rest on his arm. "Please, can we just talk? And please, don’t shut me out."

At the sound of his name coming from your lips, Aizawa froze. Slowly lowering his hand, he took a deep breath before glancing towards you. He could feel his heart begin to race and his cheeks heat up, and he hated it. This feeling was something that he was not used to and one that he tried to avoid. But as you stared at him, your eyes wide with worry, a small frown on your lips, Aizawa felt himself grow nervous. Shutting his eyes, he felt a buzzing sensation rush over him, making his skin itch. He held back a yawn, his eyes feeling so incredibly tired, and as he opened them again, he knew there was no way out of this.

"I never could hate you, Y/N." He began as he moved his gaze back to you; his gaze determined, "Even when we were students, I began to… Admire you." His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry, and he cleared his throat. "I always admired your courage, your determination, and your will to win. I always respected your intelligence and your kindness - not to mention you're a great teacher." He paused again. Your hand slid from his arm, and Aizawa wished - prayed - that the world would just swallow him up. He was not good at feelings, or expressing them, especially to someone like you. You, the one that tried so hard to befriend him all those years ago, yet he pushed away. You, the one that always managed to pull him right back. You were like an ocean wave, crashing against the sandy shore, pulling him back into your deep blue sea. 

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard your laugh. His face began to burn as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and slight hurt; were you laughing at him, or was he thinking too much? He couldn't tell. But, as you laughed, your hand covering your mouth, he couldn't help but stare as the lights from the street lamps danced across your beautiful face, illuminating every feature. Your eyes crinkled as your cheeks dimpled, your hair falling forward and hiding your face from view. You were stunning, as always.

Your soft laughter subsided, and you brushed your hair out of your face, looking up at Aizawa with a look that he wished he could capture and keep forever. Maybe, just maybe, you weren't going to reject him after all. Maybe you weren’t laughing at him. He felt his heart beating quicker and faster, and as he swallowed heavily, anticipation simmered deep within him. Then... You spoke. 

"I think that was the most you've ever said to me," You stated, almost teasingly, your smile growing wider with each word.

Aizawa blinked at you, his eyebrows furrowing further together, "Perhaps..." He trailed off, and it wasn't long until you spoke again.

"If I am picking up what you're putting down, I think you're saying that you like me." You stated, raising an eyebrow as your smile slowly spread into a smirk. "Am I assuming correctly..?" You asked, your voice trailing off and amusement lacing your voice. Aizawa simply kept his gaze locked on you, his body tense and stiff in his seat. As your words processed in his brain, Aizawa felt his stomach twist painfully at the realization. He nodded, and you mimicked him with a small hum. "Good, 'cause I've liked you ever since we were students." You confessed, chuckling lightly as you gazed into his dull crimson eyes.

"Ever since UA?" Aizawa asked and you nodded, resting your elbow on the middle console, your palm cupping your cheek, holding your head up. 

"Yeah," You said, "Wasn't it obvious? I mean, the first two years I will admit that I was pretty determined to get to know you." You then let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes fondly, "My friends said I was like some love-sick puppy."

"Hizashi liked to tease me about it, actually." Aizawa muttered, but you heard him, your smile widening. 

Glancing at the car's clock, you sighed, before glancing back over at him, "Do you want to walk me to my door?" With his nod, it wasn’t long until you were walking up the steps; letting out a sigh as you reached the front door. Keys in hand, you turned to Aizawa with a grin. "Well, I’ll text Nezu the information we got tonight, but, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" 

Aizawa looked at you, and it was difficult to ignore how close you were. He noticed how your lips parted slightly, how your eyes sparkled in the light of the street lamps as you focused on him. He was so affected by your presence. 

His body seemed to react to you without him realizing it. His hand reached up, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing over your jawline softly. He watched the way your eyes widened slightly at his touch. Your breath hitched in your throat, and his thumb lingered over your jawline for just a moment longer.

Slowly drawing his hand away, falling to his side, Aizawa nodded. "Yeah," He mumbled in reply. "I'll see you tomorrow." He smiled, the smallest of smiles, but one of the most genuine ones that you had ever seen. 

"Okay," You breathed out your reply with a slight nod of your head, turning back around, opening the door with one final glance towards him, "Goodnight, Shōta." With those words, you slipped inside, closing the front door behind you with a soft click. Pressing your back against the door, you were unable to stop the smitten smile that spread across your features, your hands cupping your mouth, and your legs coming up to your chest; your entire body felt like it was on fire. 

Shōta Aizawa glanced at your front door once more before beginning his walk down the sidewalk. He couldn't believe it, but he still found himself smiling to himself as he walked home.

#shota aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x gn reader #aizawa x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[dreamyyghost]

#bnha 419 #bnha spoilers #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #aizawa

[dreamyyghost]

very quick sketch of the old man

#aizawa #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #bnha #mha

[dreamyyghost]

Yippee!! Yippee!!

#hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks

[dreamyyghost]

BNHA with Idol!reader

How did they got caught having an idol as their s/o?

Characters : Tenya Iida, Jirou kyoka, Denki Kaminari, Shota Aizawa, Shoto Todoroki.

Reader gender is never mentioned, reader is a stereotypical cutesy idol, Aizawa’s reader is in their 20’s (while with the student they are the same age), no content warning I just want something adorable the manga’s been stressing me out lmao. Sorry if I get the first name and last name of the characters mixed up, I’m kind of stupid.

Uraraka have been finding it weird how her friend have been playing some idol group videos lately. She never thought that her stiff class president will be the type to listen to these kind of music. Look she’s not one to judge here she just finds it kind of odd.

She would have expected Iida to listen some kind of classical music, you know like any other rich kids.

So today she will no longer die of her own curiosity “Hey Iida, I want to ask you something serious,” she said. Emphasizing the word serious.

The said man immediately put his attention on her “what is it Uraraka-kun?” He answered. “Not to sound judgmental or anything,” she clarified before continuing. “I’m curious, why have you been watching (group name) nonstop?” She asked. Iida grew tense at the question (if that’s even possible considering how stiff he usually is)

“Oh yeah, I thought I was the only one who noticed that,” Their green haired friend added. While the dual colored hair boy just nodded his head, still chewing his food.

“Well I believe it is wrong to lie to our friends, but I hope you all can keep this a secret,” He said. They all gave him a nod.

He then explained how that one time his pro-hero older brother Ingenium have saved you back then from a creepy stalker. Tensei being the older brother he is tried to get you and Tenya to be together once he noticed that you both were the same age.

He can’t help it, you are such a nice person and he thinks his younger brother really needs to have some high-school romance in his life. Surprisingly you agreed.

You both went to dates (secretly) and you can’t help but find Tenya personality to be so charming, and he could say the same too.

“Although this relationship might seem not professional for the both of us considering their job as an idol and me as a hero in training,” he pushed up his glasses. “I hope you guys can keep our relationship a secret until we both decide to go public our self thank you.” He smiled at his friends.

‘Well that was even more unexpected’ Uraraka thought, but after realizing she began to squeal at how cute you both are. Midoriya is asking a lot of questions, while Tenya tried to tell the both of them to lower their voice down.

While Todoroki is just, well, eating. What a cool guy.

Mina was just minding her own business walking to the dorms living room, only to find a phone unattended on that table. Obviously being the kind friend she is she took the phone to give it back to whoever own the phone.

She turn on the phone to find some band she didn’t recognize, but she saw this on Jirou dorm room before. So this must be hers!

She turn around the phone to see the phone case, just in case if her guess is wrong. To her surprise she see a clear case. But that’s not what took her by surprise, it’s the photo card of (your idol name) sitting back there.

How come she never noticed this? Well this will be some good teasing material to her purple haired friend later.

“Oh hey Mina.” There it is the star of the show. “Have you seen my phone?” She asked. The pink haired girl smiled teasingly.

‘I don’t feel so good about this’ Jirou internally panicked. “Yeah I do,” Mina walked closer. “But, you have to answer my question first” she said.

“Okay, sure,” the purple haired girl answered. Thinking it was probably just a question about who her crush is. If so she can just easily shrugged it off, like always.

“Why do you have (your idol name) on your phone case,” Mina wiggled her eyebrows teasingly. Jirou not expecting the question grew flustered.

Shit, how could she forget about that. She just wanted to put your picture on her phone case as a sign of support on your music career (and also so she can easily stare at your photo when she missed you) she didn’t expect one of her friend to saw it. Even worse that Mina is the one who caught her, oh she’ll be living a hell of a teasing from the pink skinned girl.

“Come on answer me~” she said teasingly. “No reason!” Jirou tried to deny, looking away from her friend.

“Who would’ve thought our dark and mysterious girl Kyoka Jirou is actually a softie who enjoys cutesy music,” Mina poke her friend arms teasingly.

“It’s not like that!”

“Mhm, I trust you girl”

They both went back and fourth with the teasing and denying. Mina flipped the phone to show the lock screen to tease how different her friend true music taste is.

But a notification came up instead, catching both of the girls attention.

‘Y/n 💖 : are you still free for the date next week babe?’ It reads.

They both freezed immediately. “WHAT.” Mina screamed. Jirou tried to shut her friend by putting her hands on her mouth “quiet down!”

“Holy shit you gotta spill the tea to me girl,” Mina said her eyes still glued on the notification.

Jirou surrendered and tell her the stories how you both met because of her parents connection to your group agencies.

Mina agreed to keep her mouth shut, by the price of a signed photo card of you. Can’t really blame her, she’s just a girl.

Kaminari is the kind of person to say some stupid shit on the daily just for shit and giggles.

So when he claimed out loud to his friend group that (your idol name) and him is in a relationship nobody took him seriously. No one, even his best bro Sero. What a betrayal.

But even then he never stop proudly claiming his tittle as your boyfriend. Though it’s kind of strange how he only ever say those things to his closest friend group not the whole class like always.

It’s like he doesn’t want everyone but his close friends to know…

Anyway-

He managed to get himself injured during his internship and you’re worried, ever since the attack on the USJ your worry on your boyfriend has grown increasingly.

But luckily today, your manager actually let you visit him due to your free schedule today. She only tell you to be careful of the paparazzi which you successfully managed to run away from.

“Geez how long did the doctors said you will be here for?” You asked, while feeding him the warm food. “Eh, I dunno,” he shrugged. “I forgot.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Seriously you have to be more careful, you got me worried sick.” You sighed. “Sorry, it’s just how the hero work is y’know?”

“Still, I want you to be more careful next time,” you huffed. “Aw, I’m sorry baby.” He apologized, looking at your cute pouting face.

“Come here give me a hug,” you only stared at him. “Please?” You gave in and stood up to give him a hug.

He enjoyed the warmth of the hug only to be interrupted.

“Holy shit,” both Mina and Sero gasped. While Bakugo just stood there with a scowl on his face at the display of affection(boo what a hater)

“Oh, you guys must be Kaminari’s friends right?” You slowly let go of the hug and gave them a smile. “I think Kaminari have told you guys about our relationship, even though I told him not to.” You looked at him saying the last part. “But, thanks for keeping it a secret you guys” you said giving them all a warm smile.

“Holy shit you were not lying at all,” Sero looked at the both of you in shock.

“Bro?!”

Hizashi has been making fun of his friend Shouta. Because of the merch of (your idol name) scattered around his apartment.

But the dark haired man always claims that those merch was all Eri’s idea. The little girl always say yes about it with a little giggles coming from her.

So today he decided to drag Nemuri to also make fun of Shouta comically out of place idol merch. Compared to his dark interior (besides Eri’s room) it’s just so funny to see (your idol name) poster just hanging there in his living room.

They both stand in front of the door trying to hold their laugh as they hear a song from (idol group) blasting inside of the apartment. A faint sounds of Eri singing along the lyrics.

Hizashi opened the door, that is surprisingly unlocked. They find the living room empty so they both walked into the kitchen to find Eri being carried by-

(Your idol name)!?

You stood there in your casual clothes while holding Eri in your arms as you both waited for the apple pie to bake. “Hi guys!” Eri greeted the two adults standing.

They both stood there with shock in their face to find a celebrity stand inside the home of their friend. Hizashi then let out the loudest scream you’ve ever heard in your life. Your face grimaced at the loud voice ringing in your ears.

“What happened?” Shota ran into the kitchen panicking. Only to find two of his friends standing there “What the hell, what are you two doing here?” He asked. No response from the two of them. The blonde still shocked while the dark haired woman smirked teasingly.

“How the hell did you two even get inside?” He asked in annoyance. “Sorry babe, I forgot to lock the door earlier”

“BABE!?” Hizashi screamed again. “Holy shit this is so entertaining,” Nemuri laughed then reached for her phone, wanting to ask for a picture with you.

“Both of you leave, now” Shouta said, annoyed now that his calm and quiet weekend (with his beloved and daughter) is ruined.

Fuyumi has noticed how her youngest brother have been smiling a lot lately. Especially while on his phone. Truly she is happy to see how cheerful her youngest brother lately but she can’t help it to be so curious on why or what have been making him so happy.

Not to mention few weeks ago he asked her “What flowers do people usually buy for their partner?” Now that got her really curious.

Now she decided to follow her brother on the weekends to see who this mysterious person really is. “Is this really a good idea?” -While also dragging Natsuo into this mess.

“Well I’m just curious on who have been making my younger brother so happy lately,” she said. Natsuo rolled his eyes at the ridiculous excuse from his sister.

But he is also curious. Always being away due to college, he never saw a lot of things happen in the house these days. So to think of his younger brother who usually have a blank reaction suddenly all lovey dovey is kind of funny. And kind of terrifying.

“Maybe he’s just like those other teenage boys who like idols,” He said watching his younger brother walk into a venue where a new group was performing.

“But he bought flowers see?” Fuyumi denied pointing at the flowers her younger brother is carrying. “Fans give idols gifts all the time,” He replied.

“How did you know?”

“Anyway, this is ridiculous just let him watch his concert in peace.” He sighed. “No we must go inside, maybe he’s waiting for them inside.” She dragged her brother to the front gate.

Paying for the on the spot tickets that are quite worth the money. Such dedication thrown to know who this mysterious person is.

“This is ridiculous,” Natsuo said holding the light stick in his hands. Fuyumi only focused on her youngest brother smiling as he watched the group perform on stage.

This went for an hour until eventually the concert is now over. “See?” Natsuo pointed out. “But wait, he’s not leaving yet,” Fuyumi said suspiciously looking at Shoto. “Look!” She pointed at her youngest brother walking away to the backstage.

They both watch from afar as the venue is now empty, only the staff were present. And Shoto, too.

Fuyumi grip on Natsuo shoulders tightened as she see you walking out to greet Shoto. Which he replied with a bright smile.

Shoto then gave you the bouquet of flowers. You gave him a hug and a small peck on the lips before leading him to the backstage to hang out.

The other member greeted him watching you lead him to your changing room. You both enjoyed the food Shoto had ordered for delivery having your own little date.

“Holy fuck.” Natsuo breathed out. “Language! But yes indeed.” Fuyumi scolded then agreed to her younger brother.

Since then Fuyumi started listening to (idol group) music and watching interviews with you in it. And she’s glad to see how kind you are, and she believes you to be as kind and fun as you are in real life. I mean how can you jot charm her younger brother then?

While Natsuo let’s just say he’s been laughing at how ridiculous and funny the situation is. Maybe he’s also kind of envious that his younger brother is already in a relationship before him. Not to mention with an idol too.

#aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[dreamyyghost]

Narcissus and Pomegranates:  Hades!Aizawa x Persephone! Reader

Plot Summary: Your parents tried to arrange a marriage between you and the prince of Tartarus when you were both children, only for the deal to fall through when he attempted to poison you. Twenty years later, you are reunited with your childhood best friend and former fiancé when he kidnaps you, but everything you’ve been told is not what it seems. 

Warnings: Minors DNI. Maturity in later chapters. Reader is female and coded as Persephone. Aizawa is coded as Hades. 

Author’s Note: Everyone who’s ever had mommy issues, this one is for you. 

Keep reading

#aizawa x reader #hades au #greek mythology au #hades aizawa #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[dreamyyghost]

Heads Rolling For the One I Adore Pirate!Aizawa x Fem!Reader Part 2

Rating: 18+ for direct references to sexual assault, bodily fluids, intercourse etc. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mild smut at the end.

Warnings: This is part 2 to https://www.tumblr.com/fontanacollymore/733743073094434816?source=share

Shingo Aizawa belongs to @darkchocolateoreozfox

Within hours, your soft breathing fills the cabin as Shouta watches you drift off to sleep in his arms, your hands forming a protective shield in front of your face as his hands work at your back. At first, you fought sleep, only allowing dreamland to overtake you when Shouta assured you for the fifth time that he wasn’t angry at you, after which the noises of the harbor quickly put you to sleep. Despite how peaceful your rest looks and how much Shouta wishes he could roll over and sleep beside you, he knows that he can’t rest just yet. He has something he needs to do, something that needs to be done quickly and while the moon is still high in the sky. 

When your breathing has leveled out, Shouta slides from the bed, tucking the blanket under your chin and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You from the movement, muttering groggy, incoherent words to him before he plasters a big smile on his face, his lips mere inches from your skin. “I’m just going to relieve myself and get some air, my love,” he whispers against your skull, “go back to sleep. I’ll return soon.” You nod, turning back onto your side and cuddling a pillow as Shouta walks towards the door, careful to grab the sword lying by the door and the pistol discarded on his desk without making a sound. 

Shouta has never been so grateful to be among drunken sailors as he is that night sneaking onto his dimly lit deck, the carousing from other boats creating the perfect amount of distraction that no one notices him walking about. It took him a while to determine the origin of those earrings as well as the captain to whom they belonged to, but sometime during your slumber, Shouta remembered seeing those very same patterns on another ship’s sail across the harbor, a mere walk from where his own ship was docked. If he’s careful, Shouta knows he can make it there and back before you wake to notice he’s still gone. 

He tucks the sword into the scabbard attached to his hip, taking quiet, cautious steps as he crawls down the ladder and onto the cobblestone path, and, for a second, Shouta almost can’t believe what he’s about to do. He’s always prided himself for his diplomacy and level headedness, and murdering a man in near cold blood is certainly neither of those things. He could only imagine what his uncle would think of him if he knew what he was about to do. 

No. Shouta had accepted that he would be nothing like his Uncle Shingo a long time ago. He had been born into ruthless circumstances, and it was only a matter of time before his past caught up to him. He would never squander his guardian’s kindness to him by becoming a pirate, but Shouta knows deep down that he isn't much of a gentleman either. 

He arrives at Chisaki's ship expecting to find it dark and shut up for the night, but, much to Shouta’s surprise the ship’s deck is dimly lit, and footsteps echo from above him. Although it’s well past midnight, the ship’s gangplank is still down, indicating Chisaki either just returned or is expecting visitors, and Shouta merely checks his sheath for his sword as well as the holster containing his pistol before removing it. He takes careful steps, careful to ensure his boots don’t thud against the ship’s planks as he journeys up to the deck only to find Chisaki’s back to him as he stares out at the sea. Shouta creeps behind him, thinking his first murder is about to be the easiest feat of his life until Chisaki’s shoulders hunch forward, and airy chuckles fill the night air. 

“You’re not much of an assassin, Commodore.” Shouta nearly fires the gun then, but Chisaki delivers a shift kick to Shouta’s arm, sending the weapon flying across the deck and nearly into the water. Almost immediately, Shouta grabs the handle of his sword, brandishing the weapon at Chisaki, who responds by pointing his own pistol in Shouta’s face. Though he attempts to keep his expression steady, Shouta realizes some of his surprise must have crept onto his features, for Chisaki only shrugs. 

“You aren’t the first man who’s tried to kill me,” he states matter of factly, “although this might be the first time it’s been over a girl.” 

“You ruined her life,” Shouta hisses through bared teeth despite the metal barrel glaring directly into his eyes. Chisaki only gives him a small noise that exists somewhere between a huff and a laugh in response. 

“Is that what she told you?” he questions, “Because I regret to inform you that I haven’t been the only one she allowed to touch her.” 

“She was a child.” 

“A child who was old enough to know better,” Chisaki replies carelessly. “What? Do you plan to shoot every man in Musutafu who’s laid a hand on her?” Shouta knows he has to get the gun out of Chisaki’s hand, but he’s been in enough standoffs to know trying to disarm his opponent would result in his death. You would never forgive him if he didn’t come back to you. 

“I’m here to duel,” he says after a moment of contemplation. Chisaki raises an eyebrow, almost as if he’s genuinely considering the offer. 

“You’d risk getting shot over a woman?” 

“I’d cut my heart out if she asked me to.” Chisaki must be amused by the display, for he drops his arm, a smirk spreading across his lips. 

“After you, Commodo—” 

With Chisaki’s guard down, Shouta slashes the sword into the royal’s arm, and the gun falls onto the ground only for Shouta to kick it away. Chisaki bellows, his screams ripping through the night air and mixing with the music and drunken yelling from the other ships. “You son of a bitch,” Chisaki snarls, reaching for his sword as Shouta rips his own blade from Chisaki’s arm, the silver edge of it dripping with gore. Despite the deep cut to his arm, Chisaki manages to brandish his weapon and meet Shouta’s blade, the noises of metal on metal collision filling the air. “I expected you to have more honor than that,” the duke’s son hisses as Shouta parries his attack. 

“Honor is reserved for honor,” Shouta replies, simply. Chisaki’s arm is leaking blood, evidenced by his less than refined combat, and Shouta knows he can easily win this if he manages to retrieve one of the discarded guns. He jumps out of the way from one of Chisaki’s lunges, twisting his body to remain on his feet from the well timed attack before he reaches for Chisaki’s own discarded weapon. Shouta collides with the floor, turning right as Chisaki lands a blow into his shoulder. Shouta groans in pain but still manages to fire a shot right into Chisaki’s kneecap, the bone exploding as the bullet makes contact with its target. Blood spews from Chisaki along with muscle and bone fragments, wetting Shouta’s face with carnage as Chisaki stumbles to the ground. 

Despite his own wound, Shouta clamors onto his feet, delivering a harsh kick to Chisaki’s chest. The blow sends him back, his head smacking against the deck as Shouta rests his boot on Chisaki’s chest before firing a final shot into his head. Blood pours out of what remains of his skull as Shouta heaves a breath, a sense of clarity returning to his brain. The pounding in his ears abates as he lifts his arm to wipe his forehead, and Shouta notices that the harbor has grown eerily silent. The realization that he has fired not one but two shots sets in right as Chisaki’s blood seeps closer to his boots, and the crimson staining snaps Shouta fully from his daze. He has minutes before someone appears on the boat and finds him. 

Shouta’s brain starts analyzing immediately as he collects Chisaki’s body and drags it towards the edge of the railing and tosses it over, thankful for the cover of darkness and Chisaki’s separation from the rest of the boats. Before the ripples from Chisaki’s body’s landing have ebbed, Shouta tosses Chisaki’s handgun into the same disturbance in the water before collecting his own pistol and escaping the boat, and he’s several kilometers away before anyone reaches the ship. Halfway around the rim of the harbor, Shouta slows his steps, watching from the treeline as the deck of Chisaki’s boat grows crowded. If he had the time, he would have made an effort of cleaning up the blood to support the possibility of a suicide, but Shouta knows that even the best coverups still cast doubts. 

He only hopes that Chisaki has no shortage of enemies. 

*

You don’t think much of the empty side of the bed when you awaken a second time to find that Shouta is still gone. The esteemed commodore has a very convoluted sleeping schedule that often leads him to staying up later than you, and you’re used to waking up in the middle of the night to find him out of bed and scribbling away at a map or simply out studying constellations on the deck. Even when he nestles in by your side, he usually rises once or twice out of restlessness or simply waking up earlier than you do. 

However, when two gunshots crack across the harbor, sending off a chain reaction of confused yelling from surrounding boats, you grow worried. 

Shouta’s one rule for staying aboard his ship is that you don’t leave the boat’s cabin without him, but that doesn’t stop you from pushing open the door and poking your head out onto the deck. While you fully expect to see him with his rusted telescope or perhaps drinking a beer with one of his crewmates, the deck is silent and empty, save for the riotous yelling from across the harbor. You walk over to the edge of the boat, the ocean air whipping through your hair, and peers over the edge, squinting as far into the distance your field of vision will allow you. There’s a boat on the other end of the harbor that’s fully illuminated, and the chorus of people on its deck is so loud you can vaguely hear it. 

At first, you assume it’s a party that perhaps got out of hand — after all, you have been around sailors long enough to know what happens when they’re drunk. The sight of the confused people wandering about the boat consoles your worries, and you nearly chide yourself for the selfish fantasy that Shouta somehow involved himself in a petty squabble over you. Knowing your betrothed’s anal retentiveness, he might have even gone over to the boat himself just to investigate and provide assistance. You stare out at the ship, deciding immediately that he must be there before walking back into his quarters and securing your robe. You half debate wandering over there yourself as you tie the sash into a knot until you walk out onto the deck and see a figure approaching from the distance, its right hand covering its left shoulder. 

Panic sets in immediately as you rush back into the cabin, tremors settling into your hands while you attempt to undo your sash. You know it’s Shouta, able to discern his movements and posture from miles away, and you don’t even want to think about why he could be covering his shoulder or why he would be returning back onto the ship after being absent for so long. You continue to struggle with your robe until his footsteps hit the deck, and you simply decide removing it fully and throwing it beneath the bed is a better alternative to his catching you awake, and you’re fully under the sheets right as the door opens. 

He steps into the cabin, his movements stopping as he stands in the doorway, and you swear you can feel his eyes on you, that his ears can hear the sound of your pounding heartbeat, that he knows that you know. However, after a moment, he only offers a sigh of relief into the darkness before he begins moving about the cabin’s interior. You hear his clothes shuffling as heavy pants hit the floor along with his shirt and the two distinct thuds of his boots before he walks into the back corner of the cabin where your wash tub lays. Water splashes as he submerges his hands, and you hear his quiet grumbles and curses as he flicks his hands in the air. He walks away before returning to the bowl to wring a rag in the water before you hear him wince. 

“At least it doesn’t need stitches,” he mutters. 

You don’t make a sound, fearful of what could happen if he knows you’re awake, if he finds out that you have an inkling of an idea where he’s been. You don’t know what he needs stitches for and knows that you will never find out. Shouta won’t breathe another word of this for as long as he lives, and you know you’ll descend into the dirt taking his secret right with you. He’s done something horrible, but you are almost astounded at how little you care about it at the moment, wanting nothing more than for him to come to bed, so you can express your gratitude physically. 

After a few more splashes of water, Shouta returns to the bed, and you choke down a giggle at the irony of him shoving his bloody clothes under the bed where your robe lays. You imagine the sleeves of his thick overcoat wrapping around the silk of your delicate robe as it crumples to the floor over its companion right as Shouta’s heavy muscles touch the bed. He’s careful not to drag his legs against your body as he crawls over you, but he drapes his large arm over your frame once he’s settled in, burying his lips into the back of your head and taking a deep breath. 

You lie there for several minutes, waiting for him to say something. Shouta’s body is tense and heavy behind you, his arm relaxed against you but his muscles weigh down on you, and you realize that the gravity of his actions must be crashing down on him. You contemplate saying something to him, letting him know that you love him and that he will forever be a hero in your eyes, but you know that’s not what he wants. He wants to feel better, but words will do nothing to assuage whatever storm his thoughts have turned into. Men don’t like to talk. He may not even want what you’re about to offer him implicitly, but he needs to know that you are awake and here for him in whatever way he wants. 

You brush against him, sending a jolt through him that he quickly recovers from before relaxing into your body. Immediately, you feel some of the tension leave his body as you offer a squeaky yawn before turning your head over your shoulder. “Are you back so soon?” you question dumbly in the voice you know makes men want to pamper you; and, as much as you try to convince yourself that this is solely for his own peace of mind, you can’t help but feel a shiver of self-satisfaction when you hear that rumbling laugh bubbling in his throat that indicates he thinks he’s gotten away with it.  As much as you hold him in regard above other men, there’s a certain power in knowing that you can still squeeze him between your fingers and mold him into whatever you desire. 

“It’s been more than a little while, precious,” he croons into your ear, the pride in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He’s proud of himself for killing a man, utterly ecstatic in his belief that he’s deceived you, and you love that he believes he’s so in control and is so confident in what he’s done. It makes you feel important, your body feeling so warm that you nearly melt into a pile of happy goo in the sheets when he presses his mouth against your ear and whispers, “There was an incident on another boat.” 

“Oh?” you whisper, thrilled at how groggy and submissive you can make your voice on a whim. He’s testing not only you but also chance as well, and you adore it. You love being able to stroke his ego and make him feel like the most powerful man on earth. “What happened?” He nips at your ear, chuckling in a low, prideful baritone as his arms curl around you tighter while you gasp. 

“Two drunk idiots probably got into a fight,” he mutters, his voice putting on its own act as he adds a deliberate careless tone to his voice, and you’re impressed by his effort while still reveling in your own deception. His hands begin to wander, his left palm going to cup one of your breasts, while the other travels to your sex, and his stubble brushes against your cheek. “Did you sleep through it?” 

“Sleep through what?” you question, turning to him wide eyed and batting your lashes and giving him the perfect opportunity to wrap his elbow around your neck and tilt your face to his. 

“The gun shot.” 

“Oh,” you reply, airily, “I didn’t hear it. I suppose I was asleep.” 

“You must have been,” he confirms, the subtle dark chuckle in his voice riling you, but the relief in his voice is unmistakable. “And here I was worried you were scared here all by yourself.” You giggle as his hand between your legs begins to move, and you pause for a moment of contemplation before delivering the response you know will delight him more than anything. 

“Why would I worry when I have you around to protect me, Sir?” 

A noise of satisfaction boils in his throat as he presses his lips to yours, his mouth hungry for you, and you simply close your eyes and relax into his advances, proud of yourself for being able to build him up while still manipulating him like putty.  Years ago, you wouldn’t have believed you would one day find a man who could treat you like a doll made of the finest porcelain immediately after sending a man to a watery grave, but Commodore Shouta Aizawa is real and whispering sweet words of affection in between open mouthed kisses. You push against his grip, signaling that you want to turn around. He responds in turn by pushing you onto your back as his hands begin work of removing his nightshirt from your body. 

You know this moment of bliss won’t last forever, but you wish you could stop time as Shouta’s arms wrap around your bare back before his cock plunges into you. Dead men tell no tales, but you know that murder demands justice, and justice demands sacrifice. Tomorrow morning will be filled with gossip that will ultimately lead to interrogations and investigations, and you know that your manipulations have only just begun. No one can ever know what Shouta did tonight in your name, and you vow that you will die for him right as he buries his face into your shoulder and tells you that he loves you. 

“I’d bleed for you, I would die for you,” Shouta keens, his face pressed against yours, his eyes communicating what you know is a desire to be honest with you as well as the fear of your knowing the truth and despising him for it, “Oh, God, I love you.” 

You only giggle, sounds that Shouta will never know the true origins of as long as you can help it. 

“I love you too.”

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader

[dreamyyghost]

Heads Rolling For the One I Adore: Pirate! Aizawa x Female! Reader

Rating: 18+ for direct references to sexual assault, bodily fluids, intercourse etc. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: Direct mentions/depictions of sexual assault. This fic is very special to me, and, while it doesn't fit directly into the canon of my AU anymore, it's still one of my most personal fics, and I've converted it from an OC/Canon fic to an Reader/Canon fic to share it with you all. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, consider this your warning. As always, Chisaki is the villain of my fics, so, if you don't like that either, consider this your warning as well.

Notes: I posted this a long time ago as an oc x canon fic, but deleted it not long after. I've edited it a bit to re-upload it as an x-reader. If you somehow encountered this fic in the past in its original form, welcome back. This fic is complete, and part two will be uploaded in the next week or so.

Shouta always prided his rationality.

From the time he had been a cabin boy, Shouta’s level headedness and self-discipline were his most valuable traits on a ship. Having been orphaned at a young age, Shouta acquired the necessary street smarts to survive the real world before grown men learned the same hard lessons. He’d been valued on various ships for his intelligence, often being consulted by much older and experienced officers for his strategizing. No one was surprised when the young cabin boy rose to the position of commodore shortly after his twenty-seventh year, becoming the pride of the royal court of Musutafu, and, in his ten year career of corralling unruly cabin boys, Shouta had never once met someone who could provoke him to abandon his reason. 

The young lady rubbing at his ankle with her silk stockinged foot, however, was getting pretty damned close. 

Shouta had told you to behave yourself during dinner, that he would take you on the ship and present you with a gift or escort you into the city if you were a quiet little lamb. He knew you were capable of being quiet and very sweet when you wanted to be. He knew this dinner was going to bore you to death, and he had bargained with you for that very reason. For all Shouta had known, the two of you had reached an understanding. 

And then you showed up to dinner. 

Shouta had never been one to control you. After all, he made no secret that your wild nature had been one of the things that’d drawn him to you. He had little interest in a housewife that would want to sit around a manor all day and bear his children while he was being tossed about the sea. He’d always been keen on taking his wife with him whenever he sailed, and Shouta knew his lifestyle required a very special kind of person in order for a relationship to work. You fit all of his qualifications very well since the day he’d met you, and, because of your suitability to him, Shouta had decided that he’d be willing to put up with your intense moodiness and the tumult that seemed to follow you wherever you went. 

Shouta had given you vague qualifications for your attire that amounted to nothing more than please do not embarrass me only to find that your individual definitions of embarrassment couldn’t have been more dichotomous. If you’d merely shown up to dinner exposing the breast you were oh-so fond of, he might have been able to laugh it off and make a joke about your reputation preceding you. You were funny after all, and he would have been able to work with that.

However, when you stepped out of your carriage in that red silk dress, appearing so scandalous yet so innocent with its tapered hemline around your knees, Shouta didn’t know how he was going to be able to get through the dinner. Surprisingly, only the top eighth of your breasts were on display, making an appearance if you shrunk your shoulders a certain kind of way. Nothing about the dress outright screamed improper. In fact, it was very suitable for your age: cute and mature all at once. What really drove him mad were the silken stockings you wore with the little white bows traveling up the seams that disappeared up right at the hem near your perfect thighs. He almost scolded you when he looked into your eyes and saw your mischief was clearly intended; moreso, as a reformed hellion, you were allowed to get away with this kind of behavior by society. 

It only makes everything worse when you begin to rub his leg. 

Shouta knew that taking a young woman who’d been educated on how to be a mistress to wife was going to be an interesting turn of events. He’d never met someone who was so well-mannered and yet still knew how to break all the rules of polite society. Upon agreeing to your father’s request to see his daughter, Shouta had expected nothing more than a girl who’d had the life beaten out of her who would go to bed premaritally with him and could give him a child by the year’s end. While you were absolutely willing to do both of those things, you did them because you wanted them without ever factoring him into the equation. He liked that you were as wild and untameable as the ocean he’d been so well acquainted with since childhood. 

Most of the time anyway. 

“There are other people here.” Despite the words being hissed out through bared teeth, you only titter, continuing to lift your little foot up and down his leg, your plump lower lip tucked neatly between your front teeth. 

“They’re not paying attention, Shou,” you whisper, scooting your chair another centimeter over just as you’d been doing the whole night. 

“They’re paying more attention than you think,” he replies gruffly, gently nudging your foot away from his leg. You only frown, throwing a quick look over at the rest of the table before reaching your hand over to him, resting the silken gloved hand on his thigh, your thumb tracing his dress pants. His breath hitches, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “Y/N.” 

“‘S boring here, Shou,” you mumble, your big doe eyes looking up at him imploringly as your fingers begin rubbing in more concentrated patterns. “Can we go, please?” 

“Soon, little one,” he whispers, hoping the pet name would soothe you, but, when your hand travels further up his thigh, he realizes it only satiates you the way your dress does him. “Y/N!” 

“Please, Shouta?” you ask in that sweet voice that destroys every ounce of Shouta’s self control.

Damn it all to hell. 

*

“Swear to God, why are you so damn difficult?” 

The words sound like an insult, but the two of you know better than that by now. He can never be annoyed at you, not if he tries, and he never, ever wants to be. You’ve sunk your claws too far into him by now for him to be anything other than inflamed by you, even if the things you set ablaze are his temper rather than his passions. 

That’s why, when he drags you by the wrist from the table, something that should be so keenly embarrassing, you only giggle. You throw your head back, sending a flurry of hair in the air like (h/c) flames, and laugh because you know exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and you love every second of it. Nothing can embarrass you anymore, even being dragged away from a very public ball by your not-yet husband only makes you writhe with joy, and it’s one of the many reasons Shouta loves you. You’re wild — no matter how hard he could ever dare to try, he will never be able to domesticate you. 

And he loves it. It’s single handedly his favorite thing about you. 

“Because if I were easy, you wouldn’t like me,” you chime from behind him, and Shouta knows without a doubt that you’re telling the truth. He no longer concerns himself with responding, knowing words are just inane babble now. His eyes are too busy darting everywhere, looking for servants or, even worse, gossipers. He finds the hallway clear and, fortunately for him, very dark. The party is confined to the main hallway, and Shouta wonders why no one ever attempts to lock the doors until he realizes that he’s no different than anyone else. The doors remain unlocked for people just like him and you who are impatient and would risk societal destruction rather than wait for the party to end. He even debates going back to the ship, a mere ten minute carriage ride away from the Todoroki’s banquet hall, but he knows that by doing so he would commit a grave offense of manners. While infidelities and fornications can be forgiven and forgotten, insults are far, far worse, and Shouta can’t risk insulting his potential future brother in law. 

“I’m not even dressed badly, Shou,” you argue as he presses you against the dark corner and shields you with his body before the first kiss is pressed against your mouth. Once more, Shouta knows that you’re telling him the truth, but his own truth is that he would have been less scandalized had you shown up stark naked than looking so preciously indecent. Dressed in finery, you only remind him of how beautiful you are and how pathetic and pointless his life was without you in it. 

You can’t have sex in the hallway. Shouta knows that’s too much of a risk, but he buries his face into your neck regardless, hoping that your smell is enough to satisfy him. It never is though; your entire being is his aphrodisiac and his worst addiction wrapped up into one nice red little package, adorned with pretty little bows all along your legs. His forehead hits the wall behind you both, his arms forming a cage around you as though running away is anywhere in your thoughts. 

If his self-control doesn’t restrain him, though, something in your demeanor shifts at the very least, your little gloved hands tugging at the shoulders of his waistcoat. You want to be held, and Shouta obliges by lifting you, hoping that the tenderness of the proximity will do something to satisfy him until the night ends. You obviously don't want him exactly in that way right now or else you would have been trying to shove the coat off, and, once you’re securely around his waist, you do nothing more than bury your face into his shoulder as your soft little breaths serenade him. He’s almost annoyed really, knowing fully that your ruined status would have permitted you to sit in his lap after dinner when everyone had a few drinks brewing within them. 

“All of this for an embrace, Tea Cup?” 

You grumble at the nickname, grabbing fist fulls of his hair, and he chuckles knowing it's the one thing that he does that bothers you. You’ve been together for months, and, while you can draw maps for him and memorize star patterns, you can’t make tea the way he likes. It’s a miracle you even try after you spilled boiling water on him during your first official meeting, and you don't like being reminded of it. 

“You just got back.” 

Shouta knows that’s what this is about before you even say it. You never make a secret of your distress when he’s gone for long periods of time, and, truthfully, he didn’t even know if he’d return in time to see his sister in law join society as an engaged woman. You nearly knocked him from the pier when you heard he arrived, a reaction he’s grown used to even if he doesn’t fully understand it. The fact he’s even engaged still feels so surreal to him, and what’s even more bizarre is the fact that Shouta knows you genuinely care for him. 

He tightens his arms around you, rubbing your velvet and silk back as best he can given the awkward position. “I’ll be landbound for a month,” he assures you, “then it’s one more trip, and you’ll be coming with me after that. It’s not much longer.”

You pull away, frowning — not in the spoiled sense like you’re angry at him, but in the way that you’re obviously trying not to cry. You look almost cherubic when you make that expression, like a sad little angel begging him not to sin with your imploring doe eyes and rosebud mouth. Shouta so badly wants a child with your features despite not being certain he could take a small being with your face and mannerisms asking him for anything. He already has a difficult enough time telling you no. 

“I don’t want to think about that,” you whimper into his shoulder, and Shouta wishes he’d never gone to sea for the first time in his life. He almost opens his mouth to say something else when the lights come on, and he freezes, turning his head in the direction of the now lit gaslight. The room is still shrouded in a thin layer of darkness, and Shouta knows if he presses you further into the corner, the intruder won’t entirely be able to see who you are. However, you go stiff in his arms, trying to obscure your face in his shoulder, a behavior uncharacteristic of you even when caught. Something is wrong. Shouta knows it. 

“The party’s down the hall,” the intruder states, his voice mature but still young sounding, and Shouta realizes immediately they’re roughly the same age. The man is dressed nicely, his auburn hair neatly styled on top of his head, but what strikes Shouta most are the three golden earrings occupying the man’s left earlobe, the designs of them indicating a man who travels quite a bit.  Shouta cranes his head over his shoulder and throws the man his best “Thank you, now I am currently occupied” glare to which the man only smirks. 

“The Todorokis request your presence at the table. They’re about to break open bottles of sake.” Shouta sighs, realizing that you’re caught as he drops you down onto the floor and prepares to take your hand only for you to push yourself flush against his body and cling to him for dear life. His suspicions are confirmed when he tries to urge you forward only for you to press your slippers into the floor and shake your head when he tries to move you. He casts a look at the man, who stands there and watches the scene with mild amusement, his left eyebrow raised at you. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Shouta assures the uninvited guest, who vanishes slowly down the hall, throwing a glance back at them every so often until he reaches the ballroom doors and opens them as a further flood of light enters the hallway. Shouta looks at your face only to find it distorted by either fear or darkness or both in the fleeting seconds before night fills the room again. You’re heaving into his chest by then, his large hands coming to rest on your back before you allow him to lead you back down the hallway. Shouta knows he’s not going to get an answer out of you for several hours, but that doesn’t stop his mind from racing even as he leads you back to the dining table and allows you to have a drink to calm your nerves. 

However, even as your throat bobs with heaping swallows of alcohol, Shouta can’t ignore the thousand yard stare in your eyes. 

*

Stars illuminate the ship by the time you return to the boat, the celestial bodies gleaming like specks of white fire along a canvas of black as Shouta leads you onto the ship. Your ritual is established by this point:  he undresses, and you receive whatever shirt he wore the day before. However, unlike other nights, this one is quiet, something that unsettles Shouta even more as you quietly pick up the white cotton shirt from the ground and throw it over your head before dragging yourself to the large canopy bed and sinking into its depths. Shouta trails your movements, gazing with concern as you disappear under the bed sheets after washing your face in his water bowl, your vague silhouette a mountain beneath the sheets. 

He watches you, wondering if he should even bother with questions and skip to demands. It was that man, something about him scared you to death and rendered you unable to function for the rest of the party. You’d left as soon as it was polite enough to do so, yet even escaping the ballroom did nothing to alleviate your nerves. 

You cocoon into a little ball, and that’s when Shouta decides he’s had enough. 

“What happened back there, Y/N?” he questions, and your body stills beneath the blankets, only daring to move after a second and only poking out enough to gaze at him from a hole in the sheet. 

“Nothing,” you reply, and Shouta offers an eye roll in response. 

“Something happened,” he argues, voice stern, “something with that man. I know it did.” Your eyes widen in horror, as though you’re genuinely shocked he’s figured it out so quickly. His stern gaze continues to watch as you pull yourself from your mountain of bedsheets, strands of your hair sticking up from the static while others cling to the sheets. Regardless, you’re a sight to behold in Shouta’s eyes, a damned piece of art he wishes he could replicate on canvas and attach to his wall. He’s thought about having a painting done of you, but Shouta knows that absolutely no one else can see you the way he does, and he still doesn’t know if that realization angers or relieves him. 

“It all happened a long time ago,” you finally admit, your fingers twiddling together in the familiar way they do when you believe you’re in trouble, “really, I don’t know why I’m behaving like this.” 

“That’s not telling me what happened,” he presses, swiveling his desk chair around to face you. Usually, he would be curled up in bed with you, but the night has him so pressed he can’t bring himself to relax yet, not until he knows exactly what has you so worked up. You hesitate a moment, lying back against the pillows but never submerging beneath them. 

“I’m afraid you won’t like me anymore if I tell you.” He contemplates the words, the realm of possibilities already narrowed down to a few options, none of which Shouta considers to be very good. 

“I still want to hear it.” 

“His name is Kai,” you begin, and, though your body is right in front of him, something about your tone and the look in your eyes is vacant. “He’s a duke’s son. I — we — he’s the reason I went to finishing school.” 

The word choice is interesting, and Shouta notices it immediately:  he’s the reason I went to finishing school. The pattern is vague, but he nonetheless contemplates you for a moment before turning back to his desk, a sense of near relief washing over him as he reaches for a quill, believing he has this all figured out. “I see,” he replies, offering her an out if you desire to avoid further conversation. Shouta knew of your reputation before he agreed to eventually take your hand in marriage. It never bothered him then, and it doesn’t bother him now. “There’s nothing for you to be scared of, Y/N.” 

“There’s not?” you question, your focus returning to your body and, more importantly, to him. Shouta shakes his head, standing as the swivel chair squeaks beneath his removed weight and moving over to an armoire to collect a fresh vial of ink. 

“I already know everything about you. He couldn’t tell me anything that would bother me.” He watches your expression to confirm that his suspicions are correct, and he’s relieved when your shoulders relax some, your presence materializing in the room further. Shouta nearly asks you to come help him with his cartography, believing the issue to be over with until you speak again. 

“Shouta, why is it that you ask so many questions whenever we have sex?” 

It’s a very blunt question, one that stalls his brain for a minute while he’s thinking of an answer while also trying to interpret it correctly. His eyes furrow while his shoulders give a vague roll before he answers. “What do you mean by questions, Tea Cup?” 

“The first time we had sex, you wouldn’t stop asking me questions,” you explains, your animatedness returning, “no one ever told me that men ask where they can expel their seminal—” 

“Yes, yes, I understand what you mean now,” he sputters, averting his eyes while also feeling shame that he’s damn near thirty and gets embarrassed by how blunt you are about sex. He palms the back of his neck, your serenade of giggling reverberating in his ears and putting him somewhat at ease. He straightens in his chair, wondering why you’re even bothering to ask such a question before gazing at his maps. “I want you to be comfortable with me.” 

His response silences you again, and Shouta half expects to hear you crying as you usually do over what he deems as common sense answers to basic relationship questions. However, when no response comes to him, he looks only to find you staring at him as though you’re in the middle of a realization. “No one else ever asked me questions like that.” 

It’s times like these that Shouta feels the most badly for you, these moments when he’s reminded that you’ve been chewed up and spat out by society’s standards. He could kill your reputation just as easily as all the other bastards had; after all, you both have done much worse than what got you expelled in the first place. But it’s when you’re vulnerable and honest with him that Shouta is reminded that you want nothing more than to be loved — a base, human desire that got abused. 

He sets the vial of ink back onto the table and settles onto the edge of the mattress, and you waste no time coming to lie your head in his lap as he begins a steady rhythm of stroking your hair. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, “I know this doesn’t matter right now, but I’m telling you this in case something ever happens to me—” You stop him right there, your head lifting from his thigh with an offended, unsettled look. 

“Don’t say things like that.” 

“No, this is important,” he argues, “I want you to be taken care of if something ever happens to me.” You look ready to argue but lower your head and allow him to drag his fingers across your hair. “Not every man is going to ask you questions like I do. Most of them don’t care.” You nod from your place on his thigh, rubbing at the skin exposed from where his nightshirt doesn’t cover him entirely. 

“I know,” you murmur almost in a bored way, “I had a man ejaculate on my breasts after I told him not to.” Shouta’s fingers stop threading in your hair, never daring to remove themselves and only staying stationary. This is different than all the other times you’ve been blunt with him even if you aren’t fully aware of it. He assumes the worst but quickly attempts to push the thoughts away. He’s sure it’s nothing, sure that it was just an accident, so sure that he keeps his voice remotely steady when he asks: 

“When did this happen?” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. 

“Right before I went to school.” 

“Was it with that man?” It’s then that you begin to hesitate, your own circular rotations of your finger against the coarse hair of his thigh coming to a halt as you shrug again. 

“Yes,” you respond in an uncomfortable, awkward kind of way, “it was the last time we ever did anything, though. Please don’t worry about it.” 

“I am worrying about it,” he mutters, “just not for the reason you’re thinking.” Something in your demeanor switches at that point. 

“I told him not to. We snuck away from a party, and…and he wanted to see my breasts, so I let him.” Your fingers start brushing his thigh again, but the movements are more intense and unfocused. “Then he wanted to put his…cock between them, and I said yes as long as he didn’t finish on me.” Your fingers stop moving again and instead choose to grasp at the hem of his shirt, and Shouta notices your voice beginning to crack. “It was so gross and sticky, and it got all over my dress, and everyone knew, Shouta….He said he didn’t want to get it on himself.” 

He’s seeing red at that point, blood pounding in his ears, the tempo of his heartbeat reverberating in his throat so intensely that he’s almost positive he’s going to blow a vessel in his neck. The image in his head is so palpable he swears it's manifested in front of him, and all he can picture is his fiancee in your pretty little red dress, humiliated to death with that bastard’s seed staining the front of your gown. It’s disgusting. You’re ruined in the mental picture in front of him, ruined with tears running down your pale cheeks, creating trails in the makeup and raccoon patterns under your eyes. 

And Shouta wants to kill him. It’s the only thing that can sate his brain right now — allowing the violent images to run through his head calms him down a little, but the relief is temporary. Someone needs to do something, do something before someone else gets embarrassed and sent away for his behavior. 

He needs to do something about it. 

His rage must be obvious, for, when he feels a slight tug at his shirt and looks down, you’re gazing up at him with wide eyes. He already knows that you assume he’s angry at you, and the realization that his rage isn’t without consequence chills a little of his anger. His hand loses itself in your hair, and he swallows down the swelling in his Adam’s apple before pressing a kiss to your face. He can’t say anything to you —- bless your little heart, but Shouta knows you can’t keep secrets, particularly when they involve you. Your nervousness abates when his mouth touches you, and you sit up further into his chest, resting your head against his right pectoral just mere inches from the sound of his pounding heart beat. “Are you angry at me?” you question as his large hand clamps down on the side of your head and brings it to rest against his collarbone.  “Not at you.” Never at you.

#eraserhead x reader #aizawa x reader

[dreamyyghost]

[dreamyyghost]

The Darknight Hero

#genshin #genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #diluc

[dreamyyghost]

daydreaming abt being childhood friends with aizawa and reconnecting as adults.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

a five year old boy, only a year older than yourself, with dark eyes and even darker, messy hair chased after you across the grass. he’d never tell you that he ran a little slower than he needed to, letting you get ahead before catching up. wind howled in your ears as you ran, a grin on each of your faces. his hand touched your shirt and you squealed with delight. you pushed your legs to go a little faster, but he was already too close.

“i got you!” shota shouted.

he tackled you and you tumbled to the ground together, bursting with laughter. you stared at the sky as labored breathing filled the air.

“shota, you’re my best friend. i wanna get married when we grow up,” you said.

heat filled his cheeks. “i wanna marry you, too. then we can be friends forever.”

you giggled and sat up. “well, you gotta do it right! it’s not getting married if you don’t ask first.”

shota sat up and turned his back to you and pulled daisies from the grass nearby. after a few moments, he turned around with a crudely made daisy chain.

“here.” he grabbed your hand and held your arm out.

“will you marry me?” his grin was wide and his eyes shone as he looked at you.

“yes!” you replied. “i do.”

shota tied the daisy chain around your wrist. “now we’re best friends forever.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

that moment was over twenty years ago, still seared into his mind when he heard his name and recognized your face.

“sh - shota? is that you?” you said in disbelief, heat creeping up your neck. you hadn’t seen him since you were kids, maybe thirteen or so, but you’d never be able to mistake his visage for someone else’s.

you probably should have addressed him formally after all this time, and in a professional setting like this. it was the first staff inservice day of the year at UA. but surprise hit, and your instinct to call him the name you remembered best took over.

shota turned and saw your warm, bright eyed smile, one he remembered well. similar heat rushed to his ears recalling the childhood memory, hidden behind a mess of long hair. he nodded subtly, but called you by name in greeting. a blond man stood back with his hair tied up and watched, one you’d recognized as a hero but had never met.

“it’s good to see you again,” you said.

“it’s good to see you, too,” he replied.

“we should catch up sometime… i-if you want to.”

he wasn’t the bright eyed, grinning kid you remembered. his expression was guarded and difficult to read. but there was a spark in his tired eyes at your statement.

“i would like that,” shota said. “tell me when you’re free.”

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#aizawa x reader

[dreamyyghost]

So, Aizawa's neck is extremely sensitive. Yup I called it.

There is a reason why he conveniently keeps it wrapped in his capture weapon most of the time.

Finding out about it was purely coincidental, it was never your intention to brush your fingers along the pale skin when you reached out to tuck a loose strand behind his ear, you couldn't help it either, he looked breathtaking in a simple black tank top and similar colored sweatpants as he emerged after his evening shower.

What was meant to be an innocent gesture, soon turned into something else entirely when his breath suddenly hitched and goosebumps appeared where your fingers had touched.

It was a new and unexpected sight that triggered something within you, and you needed more of the sensation it had evoked..

_ "So even the incredible Mr Aizawa has a weakness like the rest of us huh?" you teased for the nth time as you tightened your grip on his wrists and pressed down on his throbbing bulge before diving in to suck another bright red spot on his once flawless neck, "you've kept it well hidden this far, I'm impressed."

It's no wonder to be frank, he has always been dominant and well guarded even with you, and it is unusual of him to show any sign of vulnerability, which is why you held on to this rare instant with all your might.

_ "Alright that's enough, you've had your fun haven't you?" he huffed in apparent annoyance but did nothing to stop you, and how easy would it have been for him to free himself of your clutches, had he truly wished to.

_ "Just a little more, please." you whined a plea and kissed his delicate skin again, relishing the strangled groans he so desperately sought to muffle.

_ "Whatever.." but his feigned indifference couldn't fool you.

How could it, when his restless hips unveiled his growing impatience for something more?

Divider by : @/saradika

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader

[dreamyyghost]

Undercover (Present Mic x F!Reader)

A/N: Yes, I had to write a short about the fine-ass music man. Sorry, not sorry— although, I never wrote anything remotely steamy before so maybe I’m a little 🤏 bit sorry

You were never a fan of undercover missions. You spent your whole time in your career being as blatant about your occupation as possible, and the idea of reading into every detail of an interaction was more stressful than fighting for your life.

Yet, when Present Mic had called to ask a rather vague favor, you didn’t turn it down. It took you a while to find the entrance to the hole-in-the-wall establishment. The inside was dim and the windows shades blocked almost any light from the outside.

The restaurant was mostly empty, but in the back there was a corner with a group of, mostly, men laughing in cushioned chairs, who had already cracked open a bottle or two of alcohol. Among them was the blond man in a black jacket and red glasses, had his long hair tied back, strategically sitting with his back against the wall with a good view of the entrance. Holding a firm grip on your jacket, slow steps were taken toward them until he lifted his head and spotted you.

“Nice to see you, Beautiful,” he called out. The group of six around him went silent and looked in your direction. You broke eye contact first, opting to switch between looking at them and the wooden floor while picking at the end your skirt, the instruction ‘wear something cute’ burning in your head. Mic raised his hand and gestured for you to come closer.

Following his lead, you walked toward the table in the center and looked around. There were no empty spots on the couches or on the chairs, the world seemed to watch as your hands adjusted your skirt again.

“Cmon, Baby,” Mic leaned back, taking up more room in his chair. He patted his thigh, the look in his eyes was sinister. “Don’t be shy…”

Ignoring the burning under your skin, you moved until you were guided down onto Mic’s lap. It was hard to know where to put your hands, keeping your left hand on his shoulder while the other dangled was uncomfortable. You had no idea what Mic had expected to get out of inviting you here, you clearly couldn’t pretend to be someone his character would date. All you seemed capable of doing was staring wide-eyed at his face desperate for any direction or sign of approval.

You hated undercover missions, and now you were ruining it for him.

Nonetheless, Mic slid his hand around to your hip and pulled you closer to his chest, encouraging your left arm to extend across his shoulders. Your right hand found its spot on his chest. His deceptively firm chest that’s usually hidden by thick leather jackets. A chest that should no doubt be strong due to intense physical training. A chest that's unfairly covered in a smooth red shirt. That was almost as unfair as his heart was beating like he wasn’t about to put you in cardiac arrest.

“Cute girlfriend,” your eyes darted to the person who spoke from the other side of the table.

“She is cute—” Mic agreed, his voice getting lower at the end. “And she’s all mine…”

You were never a fan of undercover missions. You didn’t know why Mic was working so hard to sell you two as a couple to these people; but whatever it is, it had better be worth it.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader

[dreamyyghost]

invitation to mundane life

#genshin impact #xiao #zhongli

[dreamyyghost]

one more week until my wife comes back !

#honkai star rail #hsr #jing yuan