#WHEN WILL AIZAWA COME BACK FR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliveinacoffin · 9 months

Note

Hello. Can i please request a part 2 of Hating You As Well? It was so good! 😩 Can part 2 be Aizawa’s and readers relationship developing and getting better throughout the year or something? Maybe throw in some aizawa getting a little jealous over reader’s relationship/friendship with another hero (maybe midnight or snipe)? Thank you so much! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write a part 2! xx

AAAHH I LOVE YOU GUYS FR 😭😭😭 and but of course, i live and breath to serve yall munchkins.

Hating You As Well

(And Loving You Just As Much)

Part One, Part Two (you're here dummy), Part Three

Aizawa still isn't honest with his feelings, but you weren't exactly one to jump ship and demand a relationship. So now, in this grey area, you two are forced to co-exist, while other feelings grow and fester.

Fem!Reader, She/Her pronouns

TW!: Slight descriptions of violence, nothing too crazy, suggestive language

You two didn't speak about what happened on the couch afterward. You not wanting to bring it up and him just avoiding you. You got most of your papers graded, and when Aizawa finished with his portion, he rushed out of the living room. Your heart dropped to your stomach, watching him leave without a word. Sighing, you went back to your papers, trying to just get them done.

___________________________________________

The next morning was silent, the night before Aizawa hadn't come out of his room at all, and you watched his door, trying to listen to what he was doing. The next morning, you hadn't slept in, getting up early to go on a run. You knew Aizawa wouldn't be awake at this hour, but he probably would soon. So you started a large pot of coffee and grabbed a sports drink and made your way out.

The wait in the elevator was tedious, but you took the time to adjust yourself. Thinking about your life, thinking about him. Did you really like Aizawa? Maybe (yes), but did he like you? Maybe? I mean, there would be no other reason for him to also lean into a kiss, the feeling of his strong and large hand haunted you, fingers reaching around your shoulder blades. Dammit Hizashi, you spitefully thought to yourself.

But what would've come from it? Would there have been an awkward moment of 'where do we go from here?' or would there be an admission of feelings, but what feelings? Would there have been an unspoken moment of understanding?

You shook your head, willing away unnecessary thoughts. The elevator doors dinged open, and you happily trotted out, all you needed was an early morning run to clear your head, and everything would be fine.

___________________________________________

Okay everything was not fine.

When you came back, very sweaty and gross from your jog, you should work out more damn, Aizawa was already up. The slut* was walking around with absolutely no shirt on, and only the tightest goddamn pair of black boxers ever. His defined and scarred body on full display, lean but built body, languidly lounging around in the light morning sun. His dark and long hair was up in a messy bun, with a few strands of hair falling out. The scar beneath his eye was on full display, only adding to that rugged and overtly masculine look.

Cheap shot you bitch.

He was sipping coffee while leaning on one of the kitchen counters. Oddly on the one that faced the front door. He watched you pant in, immediately going to the cupboards to fill yourself a glass of water. You felt his eyes watching you, felt them watch and analyze every curve and scar, every dip and bump, every beauty and imperfection. You downed your cup, not acknowledging him in the slightest, lest you show the effect he had on you. Neither of you said a word to the other, not even a head nod to show that you had seen the other. Just ignoring him for the time being, with no complaints on the other end.

At the staff meeting later that day, you happily sat by Hizashi, joining in his excited chatter.

"I know this sounds cheesy, but I can't wait to see the students come back again! I've missed them." Hizashi swooned, a sad puppy dog look on his face.

You laughed and opened your mouth to join into his lighthearted admission before another voice cut you off.

"I don't, the little bastards have already gotten in enough trouble. I can't imagine what it'll be like when they move in." Aizawa grumbled out, looking in front of him with a disgruntled look.

You and Hizashi froze, just staring at him for a moment. He usually sat on the other side of you 'loudmouths,' usually too tired to deal with the shenanigans that you, said blonde, and Nemuri got up into. (Usually just passing notes between all three of you with the smashabiltiy of your coworkers and other heroes (also dicks, but not from the person you'd think)) So it was shocking to see him willingly sitting next to you three while earning a death glare from Anan, whose spot he'd stolen.

"Don't act like you don't love them you Tsundere. You'd probably eat your arm if it meant they were happy." You teased, sighing while you poked at him.

He deadpanned you for using such an outdated term but just grumbled while hiding his face in his scarf. Hizashi elbowed you, wiggling his eyebrows at you while smirking. You were confused for a second before you realized what he was implying, hitting his arm to make him stop. He yelped, angrily muttering curses at you while he looked down. Principle Nedzu loudly cleared his throat, standing up straight while looking at all of you. He clapped his soft hands, signing the beginning of the meeting.

___________________________________________

Well that meeting was a waste of your time. All the meeting was about how we should pay a little more attention to the students now that we're all in dorms. Those who work at night, namely Hizashi, Aizawa, Nemuri, etc., were asked to make sure they don't sneak out and do room checks randomly. Heroes who work in the day, you, Anan, Ken, and others were asked to make sure students acted right during the day, and stayed inside school property. Simple enough but...

"That could've just been an email." Nemuri sighed, peeling off her mask and putting her hair up. Ken was doing the opposite, putting down his cement-like hair and flattening it against his head.

"Agreed. I understand communication is important, especially during such difficult times but..." He sighed, rubbing his flat face.

"It's super annoying. We should all get coffee cups that say 'this meeting could've been an email' on them and just use them every time we have one." You sighed, adjusting yourself to make yourself more comfortable as well.

"Well, now that that's over, and we don't really have anything else to do...wanna go out for drinks?" Hizashi perked up, green sunglasses perched on his head, hair still gelled up.

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon." Aizawa scowled, looking disapprovingly at the man.

"I think he just wants to hang out rather than drink." You slung your arm over Aizawa. He scowled at you but didn't move your arm.

"No, I'm totally gonna drink." Hizashi said while walking backwards, already calling a cab.

"Oh yeah me too." Nemuri agreed, nodding her head.

___________________________________________

"I don't know why I came." Aizawa was acting pissy, laying down his head on his crossed arms, glaring at the loudmouths around him.

"Because you loveee us, admit it!" You sang, stirring the drink in your hands. You weren't drunk per say but you were definitely looser and happier now. "Cmon, won't you drink a little?" You looked down at him, smirk on your face.

He scoffed and looked away, sitting up straight. "Someone needs to get you home, and we share a living space, so I'm forced to babysit."

"Dawww, it's okay to show your emotions." You tugged on his uniform sleeve, putting yourself in his personal space.

"Hey!" Hizashi called out to you, definition more drunk than you were. "Let's do karaoke!" He motioned you over, pointing to Anan, who was already singing. You happily jumped up, waiting behind Sekijiro to sing.

When it was your turn, your singing was horrid. It was off-key and loud. Most of your friends just laughed and egged you on, spurring you to sing louder and worse. Still, even in your fuzzy mind you recognize on pair of dark eyes just staring at you. Not in a negative way, no, there was something in his face and eyes that made you quiet down some. Just so he knew you were singing for him.

___________________________________________

You don't know how you got home, but you did. Looking at the time, it was seven PM at night. You groaned, rubbing your head while your other hand limply hung off the couch. An oversized jacket was forced on you, baggy, and so so warm.

"Drink this." You looked up to the dark presence above, squinting at the harsh contrast of the shadow to the bright apartment. You got up and groggy drank the water.

"Thanks." You sighed, looking up at Aizawa.

"Sure. Just try to be more responsible next time. You have an image to uphold." He snatched back the cup when you finished, which you realized had prints of black cats on it.

"Mehmehmehmeh." You made a face, mocking him in a high-pitched voice while making a puppet with your hand. The man you were making fun glared at you from the kitchen, activating his quirk while washing your dish.

"I'm being serious. Anyone could've walked in and seen a UA teacher acting a fool at a bar." He growled, now in the drying process.

"Ahh, it was one drink! And plus, none of our dear students are gonna walk into a bar." You got up stretching, scratching your leg while walking past him.

"It was more than one drink!" He called out to you.

"One, ten does it matter?" You replied, entering your bedroom and shutting your door behind you, ending the conversation.

The next morning, you found yourself with a jacket you'd never had before. It was baggy, many sizes too large for you, and something right out of a goth magazine. You don't know where you got it from, but it was warm and comfortable, plus it smelt nice, so you added it to your closet.

___________________________________________

The students finally arrived and settled in the dorms, now UA dorm life was in full swing. It was peaceful to see such vibrant characters and youth constantly surround you, it filled you with a new vigor. That was, until now.

Loud crashing woke you up in the dead of night, and you immediately jumped up into action. You didn't yell or scream. Instead, you grabbed a flashlight and a small knife. You slowly opened your bedroom door, crouching out and keeping close to the wall. There was a large imposing figure standing in the middle of the hall, leaning against the wall while fussing with their boot.

Taking the chance, you kicked off the wall and laughed yourself forward. Landing on the interlopers back, you wrapped your arm around their neck, using your free hand to press the switch blade on their face. Your legs immediately wrapped around their muscled frame, trapping yourself onto them.

"What the fuck are you doing in my home." You growled in their ear, putting pressure on the knife to start to dig into their cheek.

"Getting my dumbass kids." Aizawa growled out, hands trying to rip you off of him.

You froze for a second, eyes going wide and mouth going slack.

"Huh!?" You yelled out, toppling off of your roommate. Knife clattering somewhere into the kitchen.

Aizawa turned to you, pissed off and resuming his fussing with his shoes. He tilted his head in your direction but not looking at you. You sat on the ground, still processing everything.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Did I get you anywhere?" You finally came to your senses, scrambling up to check him. Grabbing his chin, you tilted his head back and forth, inspecting.

"I'm fine. I've got to go." He ripped his head back, leaning away from your touch. He finally got his boots of fully, walking into the kitchen and to the front door.

"No you're not, I cut you." You ran into the kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink.

"It's fine." He was already at the door, but you ran to him and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"No, it's not, I could've really hurt you." You had grabbed an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid to clean up the cut you made on him. It was small, a nonconsequential wound. But you still took delicate care to cleaning it and covering it up. He didn't get the chance to see what kind of bandaid you put on him, but he felt that it was small.

"As if." He mumbled, eyes fluttering closed as he accepted your gentle touch. There was no bite in his tone, like he was just saying it to say it, to keep up an image. You pulled back, and gave him a once-over.

Aizawa opened his eyes again, and turned to the door to hide his face from you.

"Now you can get your dumbass kids, asshole." You smiled softly, and even if he couldn't see your face, he registered the softness in your tone. The fondness.

When Aizawa got done with yelling at his two problems children, he turned and stomped away, leaving them to be angry at him.

Midoriya remembered something for a moment and hesitantly turned to his rival/best friend.

"Hey Kacchan, was there a Hello Kitty bandaid on his face?" Midoriya seemed a little dumbfounded. It couldn't be true, Aizawa with a bandaid on his face, let alone a Hello Kitty one?

"Hah? The fuck are you talking about?" Bakugo was still clearly pissed, but he was more taken aback than angry.

"That little pink sticker on him, I could swear I saw Hello Kitty on it." Midoriya responded, adamant that he did see it.

Bakugo was silent for a moment, and the freckled boy thought he was ignoring him. So he just sighed and returned inside.

Bakugo smirked a little, now fully remembering. Yeah, he was.

___________________________________________

The next morning you decided to ask what happened.

"My two biggest problems decided to sneak out and fight. It hasn't even been a week, and they're already trying to kill each other." Aizawa angrily muttered into his cup of coffee.

You stared at him for a second, pursing your lips. "Did you expel them?" You tilted your head, eyeing him warily.

"I wish." He chuckled, drinking his coffee.

"Ah, so they're your favorites." You smiled, wiping your hands and heading to serve yourself a plate of food. You heard the stern teacher sputtering behind you, coughing as a result of his reaction.

"I have no favorites, and those two would never be them." He responded, setting down his cup heavily.

"But you didn't expel them. You just gave them house arrest and chores. Your favorites." You shrugged, turning around to smirk at him.

"Well, it..." Aizawa shook his head, face pulling into one of anger as he looked for an excuse. He gave up, flopping his hands down to look at you. "They'll learn. They just need more discipline. It's hardly a call for expulsion."

"Let's see," You set down your toast to count examples. "Sneaking out after curfew barely a few days into moving into dorms, destructive of school property, assault on another student, three students snuck out without permission to save another classmate, Midoriya being the ringleader, anddd..." You screwed up your face, and you tried to remember more. You snapped your fingers and pointed at the scowling Aizawa. "Oh! First day, you should've expelled Midoriya and transferred him to another class, but you didn't." You leaned on the counter and tilted your head. "Instead, you let him stay in the hero course because you believed in him. Plus, that whole unwritten speech about Bakugo when he was kidnapped? There was nothing in our notes that said anything of what you said. But you said it anyway, from your heart."

Aizawa had a carefully neutral face, just staring at you while you grilled him.

"So my only crime is believing in my students." His voice was monotone, any semblance of emotion wiped from his face. If it were anyone else, you would've thought they were pissed at you or angry. But you knew better, you recognized that face from last night. The 'I'm pissed because I expected better from you' face.

"No," You grabbed your plate and walked past Aizawa to lounge in the living room, patting his shoulder as you walked. "Your only crime is having a huge heart, but the inability to even show you even have one."

___________________________________________

There was no real reason for you to be here, you thought to yourself. You barely helped out when the kids picked out their ultimate moves, and you were definitely not one of the teachers who regularly trained with the kids, but you still found yourself being dragged to go to the hero licensing exams.

You adjusted your hero costume, pulling down and pulling up the outfit where need be.

"Why am I coming again?" You asked Aizawa, turning to him to see he was already staring at you.

He shrugged, "Principal Nedzu just said you were to come." He looked away, fiddling with his phone while he waited for you to get ready.

"Well, sure, I got that, but he didn't email me, and I don't exactly see why-" You were still pulling yourself together, grabbing an over-the-shoulder bag and checking whether or not you had your keys, your wallet, and extra makeup and other stuff you might need.

"Are you ready yet? At this rate, we'll hold up the whole class and make them late." He interrupted you, crossing his arms impatiently.

You deadpanned him and adjusted the strap. "Yes, I'm ready. Dick." You stuck your tongue out at him while he held the door open for you, trying to push you out.

"You need to watch your mouth more. Who knows who's listening." He scolded, pressing the elevator button. The elevator dinged open, and you two stepped inside. Aizawa went to press the floor button, but you beat him to it. He gave you a look.

You smiled. "I like pressing the buttons."

"What are you, a child?" He scoffed.

"Then you'd be a predator." You shot back without thinking. Both of you realized what you meant by that, but before you could spit out on explanation, the door opened again.

Hizashi strolled in, whistling a tune. "Hey guys!" He cheered, ignoring the tension behind him. "What's up?" He turned around, looking at your blushing face and Aizawa's blatant ignoring of you.

"Nothing, what are you up to?" You chuckled, rubbing your head.

"Gonna go out and be a radio host and communications guy." He smiled, but you heard the strain in his voice.

Your bashful attitude dropped, and you held out a hand. "Hey, don't spread yourself super thin." You advised, voice full of worry.

The elevator dinged to all of your last stops, and Hizashi strolled out before the two of you, walking backward to face you.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine." He waved you off, turning around to walk normally with his hands in his pockets.

"I worry about him sometimes." You admitted, stuck in place. Aizawa walked out before you, holding the elevator so it didn't close on you.

"He's fine, trust me. Hizashi doesn't think about much other than music and having fun." He shrugged, looking off.

"That's because he thinks through you. He speaks Aizawa and thinks Aizawa." You stepped out, walking out the bottom common room to the main grounds of UA.

Aizawa shrugged, not saying anything as he followed you. You looked out to all the excited students, the air buzzing with conversation.

Aizawa got his classes' attention, speaking to all his students.

"Now listen up. This is the most important test of your life, and only fifty percent of the whole student body will pass." That made the class tense up and freeze, dramatic whispers grew between them. "Even though some of you are in trouble." He made direct, unashamed eye contact with both Midoriya and Bakugo, "You will all take the test. Now let's go before we're late." He led the class in the bus, you two being the last ones in.

"They're your favorite." You sang, tapping your knees. You two were sitting in separate seats, but you two were as close to the edge as possible.

"Keep your voice down." He snapped but didn't deny it.

___________________________________________

Ms. Joke was awesome.

She shamelessly flirted with Aizawa, if not being a bit pushy with it, and teased him.

You knew of her, you had some run-ins with her when you first debuted. She was a light-hearted, strong woman who had a good sense of humor, she often used to make you double over in full-out belly laughter. But there was something different this time, she was funny, that didn't change, but you weren't laughing so hard you cried now.

"Eraser," Ms. Joke was barely holding back laughter now, "Your fly is down."

You and Aizawa sat next to each other while Ms. Joke was two seats away from you two. That... wasn't all that funny....huh. Maybe Aizawa's bitterness rubbed off of me? Aizawa just sat there like he hated the world, but especially her right now.

"I can't believe you have a full class! Usually, you would've expelled someone by now. You must actually like your class." She turned to him, and you leaned over.

"Right! I think he has a secret soft spot for all of them, but especially-" You exclaimed, excited that some outside of UA had noticed this.

Aizawa cut you off by putting his hand in front of your face, now angry at the world, Ms. Joke, and you.

She laughed, and you giggled. "You're so predictable! Date me." Ms. Joke immediately turned to him.

"Shut up." He scowled, and she just laughed in response.

You sat back up now, looking at him teasingly. "If I have a say-"

"You don't."

"I think you two would make a great couple!" You grabbed Aizawa's shoulders and leaned him to the loud woman, and she just laughed in response. Strangely, you could see her breath from this angle, but you could also see Aizawa's hair float up for a mere second before it dropped again. An action so small and unnoticeable that if you hadn't been so close, you wouldn't have seen it.

You let go, and she leaned to you two, a slightly angry look on her face.

"But c'mon, you both know what's going to happen in just a few seconds." Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, a strained smile.

You looked at the dark man beside you, really he sticks out pretty bad here, and gave him a confused and slightly scared look.

You heard her say something earlier, but you had no idea what it meant, let alone now.

"And yet, you didn't say a thing to your class. Every year the test is always different." She rested her chin on her fist, looking determined out on the field. Aizawa was blankly doing the same, but there was a different look in his eye, one you recognized. One of a teacher who knows what his students can do.

You were shifting on your seat, watching class 1-A break up into factions, trying to understand what the other woman was saying.

"It's a tradition during the exam, most if not almost all of the students have equal footing. Except for one." She dropped her hand, sitting up straight. You were watching her, a feeling of foreboding coming over you as she delved more and more into her dramatic rant.

"UA has a serious disadvantage. Showing off the country's top schools sports program to the whole country, which showed off not just your students' quirks, but their weaknesses and their fighting styles too." Your eyes widened, and you turned back to the field. Watching the majority of the class you grew to care about deeply, be unknowingly followed. "It's a little funny, isn't it?"

That made your heart race, surprise written all over your face. Aizawa ignored her, eyebrows deepening.

"If you actually liked your class this year, you should've warned them about this. It happens every time your school takes the exam, UA is immediately crushed." She said, and to prove her right, a crowd of students all aimed for one group. Yours.

You looked at Aizawa, wondering why he kept quiet about all this. He glanced at you briefly before nodding his head back to the field with the tiniest of motions. That feeling of dread was replaced with pride as you watched Midoriya effortlessly kick away a storm of balls with one kick. From this angle, Ms. Joke assumed you turned away from Aizawa, feeling a little awkward that she had now seemingly made you upset. What she didn't see was your proud smile, your smirk of arrogance. Yeah, they'll be fine.

"I don't really see a reason why I should've warned them. Nothing would've changed if I did, either way, they would've had to deal with it." You and Aizawa watched as your students effortlessly dodged and moved, using their quirks to the best of their abilities to take back the advantage that was stripped away from them. It was taking everything in you not to just cheer out for them, not to scream, hell yeah!

"Real heroes turn around any situation. Besides, when they become pros in the spotlight, they'll have to face villains who already know their quirks." His voice was stern and sharp, with no room for argument. "Perhaps at UA, we look further ahead than other schools." Even though he still had that monotone voice, Aizawa had a passion for his students, one that he barely contained.

A dark shadow fell over the laughing woman's face, now at an angle where she could see the both of you. She watched with bated breath as you watched Aizawa. Smiling while she huffed out a nose laugh. She recognized that look, looking down at her ring finger, she fiddled with the gold ring. There were rings decorating all her other fingers, but the one on that ring was the first and most important one. She's made that face hundreds of times at her own wife, and only a fool would mistake it for anything else.

___________________________________________

“‘UA looks further ahead than other schools’, huh? That’s pretty condescending of you to say Eraser.” Ms. Joke piped up, the two had been going back and forth, but you decided to ignore their banter in favor of anxiously watching the students, afraid. “There are as many kids who want to be heroes as there are stars in the sky. The strength of that will has nothing to do with being famous.” Ms. Jokes face had gone back to being serious, and it made you a little unsettled. The woman, in even the short amount of time you’d known her, had taken everything with a grain of salt. Never the one to take offense to someone's words or actions. But here she was scolding Aizawa. They really were the same. They hide the same deep love and care for their students, and the moment someone says something slightly mean, they pop off.

“If you act like you’re the stars of the show and look down on everyone else, then you’re only showing off your true weakness.”

While her words were true, they seemed a little misplaced. Aizawa constantly humbled the students to remind them that no matter how far they got, they would always have room to grow and improve. Not just in their physical strength, but their mental capabilities as well. Maybe it was about the students themselves? Bakugo and Monoma were the students that popped up in your mind immediately.

“You’re right, we will take your advice and make sure our stars don’t think they’re the only ones who shine.” You nodded, sliding your eyes over to her. She nodded, a small smile on her face. Aizawa looked over at you in a questioning manner.

“Our students are great and all, but sometimes they need to be reminded that they’re not the main character, even if they act like it.” You smiled slightly, easily finding Bakugos yelling from in the arena.

“...Agreed.”

___________________________________________

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the test ended. Rubbing sleep from your eyes you walked by Aizawa while he went through the paper work he now needed to fill out.

“You know, I’m starting to see why you’re so tired all the time.” You laughed, tapping the stack of appears in his hands.

He gave an airy laugh, “Sometimes I think they do it on purpose.”

“Well, I can do some it for you. I don’t spend as much time with the kiddos like you do, but I’m sure I could get the hang of it.” You offered, slightly pouting your lips.

“You’d probably mess it up, or mark them in that atrocious pen you have.” He shook his head, tilting the papers away from you.

“Huh?! Why do you have such little faith in me!? I’m trying to be nice, you-” Kaminari was with his usual group of friends, but he was side-eying the two of you, snickering while watching your interaction. “Jerk.”

“Good save.”

“Shaddup.” You punched his arm, snatching some of the papers away from him. “I can do this, no sweat, and I promise to use a normal pen.”

He glared at you, before sighing and shaking his head. “Fine.”

Ms. Joke trotted up to you two and offered to do joint training. Aizawa accepted the offer and walked away, loading all the students onto the bus.

She turned to where you were still standing, trying to organize and smooth out the stolen reports. “My real name is Emi Fukukado, by the way.” She held out a business card in her gloved hand.

You took it appreciatively.

“Thanks!” You introduced yourself in turn, shaking her hand.

“Hey, between us two, you and Eraser would make a pretty cute couple.” Fukukado said nonchalantly, smiling easily.

“Hah?!” You exclaimed, freezing on the spot. Your face grew hot, and you tightened your grip on the jokesters hand.

Fukukado pulled away, smile never going away. “I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him, and Aizawa doesn’t put up with just anyone you know.” She laughed slightly, putting her hands on her hips. “Trust me, my wife looks at me like that all the time, and we’ve been married about ten years now!”

“Hahhhh?! You’re married?!”

___________________________________________

“You didn’t know? She always wears her wedding ring.” Aizawa sat down heavily beside you on the couch, grunting while he leaned forward.

“She wears like, ten. How would I know?” You shrugged, pulling down the black pen behind your ear, unglittered unfortunately, to continue your journey of legal HPSC papers.

“Didn’t you know her when you were younger?” He raised an eyebrow to you, his dark hair out of his face and into a bun.

“Yeah, but we weren’t friends. It was more like, you’re a young woman in the same male-dominated field as me, if anything goes down we’ll have each other's backs. Not friends friends. I literally just learned what her name is.” You turned your attention to the work, already halfway through your stack, while Aizawa was just starting his.

“Women are weird.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? You’ve known Hizashi since high school and you still deny you two are literally best friends.” You rolled your eyes, remembering how vehemently Aizawa denied the two literally aren’t two peas in a pod.

“Because we’re not. We’re good friends.” You groaned and flicked a pen cap at him. He growled at you, but otherwise turned back to his work.

“Anyyyways, I still feel kinda bad that Todorki and Bakugo failed. That test was really important, and they’re the only two in 1-A who failed.” You sighed, eyes running over Bakugo’s paper.

“That’s their own fault, if they had seen above their own hubris, they would’ve acted better and passed. They will learn to do better at the retake.” The dark-haired man shook his head, sighing.

“True, it was their own pride that was their downfall.”

“Make sure to mark the date in your calendar, it's about three months from now.” He added nonchalantly, now fully focused on the papers.

You looked up and made a confused face. “Why would I need to, I’m not their homeroom teacher?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, avoiding eye contact. You saw his ears go red slightly at the tips, perking up. “Because you went with me to the first exam, why not help me at the provisional?”

“W-well, I guess. But I won’t be of much help.” You looked away, remembering the words Fukukado told you the other day making you go hot yourself.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds now were the ticking clock and the sounds of papers shuffling and pens scraping.

It was nice.

___________________________________________

“Wait wait wait-” You were laughing now, holding a hand over your mouth. Hiazshi was smiling at you, and Midnight was shaking her head in disbelief. “He got naked?”

“He didn’t get naked, his quirk made his clothes phase through him. So he ended up naked. There’s a difference.” Aizawa shook his head, sipping his coffee.

You laughed out loud now, leaning on Hizashi’s shoulder while he joined with you.

“I was shocked at first too! I mean, yeow! Everything was out.” That only spurred you on more, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Oh man,” You sighed, wiping away those tears. “I hope they helped him out with his costume, I mean, there’s no way that's safe.” You shook your head, sitting on Hizashi's armchair now.

“They did, they made it out of his hair, so it would phase with him.” He nodded, stuffing food in his mouth. You quirked an eyebrow but ignored it.

“That must’ve taken forever.”

“Yes, it did.” Aizawa butt in, now fully paying attention to the both of you. You couldn’t see Hizashi smirk, but you were caught off guard by such aggressive behavior.

“Oh,” You looked away, now feeling slightly awkward. “What was the point of them visiting, anyway? I mean, not that it’s bad to introduce the classes to the big three, but why now?”

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “To have them talk about the work studies.”

The air in the teacher lounge shifted, now to a tense one. There was a meeting the day before the new term started, an open discussion on whether or not UA students should be allowed to even let them participate in them. Just like the internships, it was a heavily debated argument. You, Aizawa, Snipe, and Anan were against it, saying it well it went last time would only embarrass/harm UA’s reputation further. Nemuri, Sekijiro, Ken, and Ectoplasmi were for it, their reasoning that the students would need the practice. Others fell in between and allowed themselves to be swayed by the opinions of others.

“Oh.” That was all you said.

“Yeah.” That was all he replied with.

When the school day ended, Aizawa met you at home. He angrily kicked off his boots and hung up his capture scarf by the door. You turned around from the sink, hands wet from washing the dishes.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He looked up at you, standing at the doorway. “I don’t agree.”

“I don’t either.” You turned back, immediately knowing what he was talking about.

When the HPSC had first sent the letter to UA stating they would like the school to participate in the work studies, the teachers erupted in conversation. When the staff didn’t agree, Aizawa stood up an brought all the attention to him.

“Did we forget what happened the first time we allowed our students into the hands of the HPSC? My own students had gone off and could’ve gotten killed. I had no idea, thanks to the lies administered by the commission. Do we need a repeat of that?” He sat back down, looking angrily out at his fellow staff. You stood up beside him.

“I agree, who knows what danger is out there, and we all know from the past that the Hero Commission will just lie to us.”

Snipe nodded in agreement beside you. Ectoplasim stood up. “I assume your classes will have their provisional licenses now? Our students have grown since then, and they now have the ability to make their own calls and decisions.” He rebuttled. This statement only made a fight break out.

In the end, your side lost.

Aizawa was leaning on the counter beside you, hands clutching the counter in a white-knuckled grip. “They lied to us, three students could’ve died.” His voice cracked at the end, face screwed up in anger. You whipped your head at him, looking at him wide-eyed.

You decided not to say anything about his emotions, instead, you dried your hands and turned to him fully.

“Want to spar?” You offered, holding out his goggles. Aizawa stared at them, then stared at you for a long moment. He snatched them up and quickly put them on. Wordlessly, he got back dressed in his hero outfit, and you complied by getting your shared duffle bag and followed him out. You both had decided to share a bag, hey, it would be easier to carry one than two, since you spar so often anyways.

___________________________________________

The next few weeks became hell. Immediately something was brewing, you, Aizawa, and other UA students were invited to an important meeting hosted by Sir Night Eye. You’ve heard of him, mostly through what you know about All Might, but you have never really seen him in action. He was a pretty cool dude, if not a little too serious for your liking. You could only deal with one grumpy man in your life, you didn't need to. There were also friends you made through your line of work, like Toyomitsu/FatGum, Takagi/Rock Lock, and Mr. Brave, you never learned his name, interactions were always brief, but friendly.

You mostly just listened in, you didn’t really have any new or helpful information to hand out to aid in the meeting. You had become slightly boring ever since you became a hero at UA, hero work slightly slacking now that tests and assignments stood in your way of aiding your friends. That is why you had an uptick in your sparring matches with Aizawa, no excuse to fall behind.

Takagi spoke up, questioning why your students were here in the meeting. Toyomitsu, in a burst of passion, declared that the students had valuable information to share. He then introduced himself, and when his attention turned to your side of the table, you waved at him happily.

Aizawa looked at you through the corner of his eyes, a small smile on his face. You elbowed him in response, brushing him off. Aizawa was called to speak, and his leg started to bounce from under the table, only you noticed.

“The bullets effects seem to be different from my Eraser. When my quirk is activated, I don’t attack the quirk itself, instead, I temporarily affect the genes themselves, but no permanent or harmful damage is done.”

“Immediately after Takami was shot, we rushed him to the hospital to have him looked at. We found his quirk was deactivated, but thankful after his rest he was returned back to normal.” That was a relief, not only were the effects of the bullet temporary, like Takagi had said, but the effects weren’t harmful in the long run. When it was revealed that the contents of the bullets were filled with human blood, everyone froze. Disgust filled you, wondering what kind of person would do that.

“A man named Kai Chisaki is the young Yakuza head of this group, and is turning his daughter's body and blood to make the bullets.” You had decided to tune back into the conversation at the worst possible moment, or maybe you tuned out during the worst conversations of your life, your body tensing up as horror filled you. Aizawa sat slacked beside you, his eyes widening in horror as well. Tears sprung into your eyes, and your hand immediately flew up to cover your trembling mouth. How..how could anyone do that to a little girl? Let alone their own daughter?

The meeting went on with the same tense and angry energy, people piping up with their own angry opinions. You watched with a feeling that you were floating outside of your body as Nighteye folded more and more into himself. The pressure everyone putting on him only added to the guilt you knew he carried.

The meeting was over late into the afternoon, and packets and folders of information were handed out to all of you. Aizawa was to patrol more in the designated at night, and any possible chance you were to follow yours.

Now you were situated in Aizawa’s car, his hands gripping the steering wheel while you leafed through both folders.

“Lock Rock is right. There’s no need for them to be there.”

“I know.” Your voice was watery, sniffing while you tried not to cry onto the packets. “But we don’t have a choice.”

There was silence when he rolled up to a red. A large hand came into your peripheral, pulling the folders away from you. Aizawa threw them in the back of his car, and you heard them scatter.

“Don’t worry about that now, we can go through them when we get home.” You looked up at him, and while his expression was still guarded and hard, there was something soft hidden in his face. Maybe it was the way his eyebrows were turned up ever so slightly, or his sad eyes, either way, you nodded.

“I just hope we can save that little girl. She’s so small, and she must be so scared.” The light turned green, and he resumed his journey.

“We will, I know we can.”

___________________________________________

The next few weeks were hellish, after school you barely saw Aizawa, and he in turn hardly saw you during breaks/lunches/and during the weekends. You worked from sun up to sunset, using as much time as you could. During the day he worked with the others to make sure everyone was updated on information, whereas during the night you caught up on both your school work and added your own information. You left coffee and easy lunches for him to take out, and he left you jelly packets and energy drinks.

Finally, there was one day when both of you were home, lying exhausted on the couch together. You were lying on your back, hands covering your eyes while you rested your legs on his. Aizawa complained at first but made no move to stop you, too focused on his iPad sifting through and adding important information.

“Apparently, Nighteye has picked out people he thinks are assisted with Kai Chisaki. He’ll try to find out more before we move further.” He said out loud, not doing anything to get your attention.

“Good.” Your voice was raspy and tired, flopping your hands down you could barely keep them open. “I’m so tired.” Your voice was filled with pure exhaustion, running on less than thirty hours of sleep for the whole week.

“Me too, I can feel this coming to an end.” You could still hear him clicking away.

“God I hope so, I just want to save her already, I’m starting to see Eri in my goddamn dreams.” You shook your head, tears hotly running down the corner of your eyes. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was because of how emotionally drained you were, but you just couldn’t hold back the floodgates.

You heard Aizawa stop tying, but you didn’t dare look over at him.

“Me too.” His voice was filled with utter grief.

___________________________________________

Finally, it was the day.

Nighteye had found one of Chisaki’s minions and tracked down the spot where they had been keeping Eri. Now everyone had gathered around in a large group, waiting anxiously in the bright early morning for their commands. You were following Aizawa tiredly, energy absolutely sapped out of you. Aizawa walked up to Midorya, who was surrounded by the only other UA students.

“I am moving with the Night Eye agency.” You peeked out from behind the dark man, waving happily at your students, string to hide how tired you were. “Do you understand what that means?”

Midoriya nodded, a hard look on his face. Aaizawa turned back to you, grabbing your shoulder to push you away. “What was that about?” You asked, confused as you turned and waved goodbye.

“He still hasn't earned my trust for running off last time, so I told him I expect him to do things right this time.” He looked down, still walking to get in position.

“You’re such a hardass.” You smiled, shoulders bouncing while you looked away.

“Good, then they stay on their feet and do their best.”

___________________________________________

Chaos quickly erupted outside, and you were stuck batting away villains with clubs of pure light. You swung around your makeshift weapons, filled with electricity and a feeling of burning pain. Police surrounded you, blocking your view of not only the entrance but of your allies.

“This way!” A strong hand grabbed your arm, and you turned and growled. Your guard dropped when you saw Aizawa dragging you inside with him. Quickly, you put as much light as you could in your pockets, quickly closing them so they wouldn’t escape.

“I’m getting kind of worried, man.” Takagi admitted, looking around for any dangers.

“I wonder if anyone leaked information.” Amajiki admitted aloud, but the chief rebuttled him.

“If they had, one would think they’d be smarter to avoid us.”

“They all should be used to working together already, a bond formed through devotion to their boss. They might feel ashamed now, Chisaki and the top brass haven't even shown themselves yet. They’re probably underground getting ready to flee or hide right now.” Aizawa pipped in. All of you were still running down the impossibly long hallway, hearts racing as one.

“No, there’s no way. That villain busted out the doorway as soon as the chief rang the doorbell, no one just does that. Plus, with how big these guys sound, there's no way they’d just leave.” You shook your head, mind swarming with what was to happen. Kirishima looked over to you, conflicted on whether to agree with his homeroom teacher or his history teacher.

“Either way, we’ll take them down.” He decided to say, not favoring either theory.

Suddenly, Nighteye skidded to a halt, stopping in front of an indent in a wall. He seamlessly opened a secret door, and everyone was thankful for his foresight.

Three henchmen popped out of the darkness, trying to take the group by surprise. However, they were unable to be successful with Bubble Girls and Centipeder's quick thinking. They stayed back with Nighteye’s order to make sure they didn’t come after your group, and you rushed down a concrete hallway, only to be halted by a dead end.

Takagi called out to Nighteye in anger, but Midorya and Kirishima quickly resolved the problem by kicking through the thick wall that had been placed up. The room suddenly became less solid and started shaking around in an ocean. Panic filled the room as it rolled and changed around you, shoving you all around. You, Aizawa, and Toyomitsu formed a triangle.

“Eraser, can’t you get rid of it?” Takagi yelled out, but Aizawa just shook his head.

“Not if I can’t see the main body.” He called out, voice strained as he fought off nausea.

“We need to hurry!” Your voice wobbled as you tried to find steady ground, “If they’re changing the building, then they can escape before we can even get to the end of the hallway!” You tried to step forward, but the mere action of moving knocked you off kilter, so you stood, fighting off gravity as you tried to move. You have to try!

The room stopped moving as violently, and Lemillion took action to run ahead, moving through another hall. You wished you could follow him, try and at least be there for the kid. A scream ripped out of your throat as the ground under you disappeared. You landed on your stomach, the breath knocked out of you on the dirty floor. Aizawa heaved you up, looking around and assessing the situation.

Three villains made themselves known, launching themselves at Amajiki. Eraser quickly stepped up, erasing the blonde quirk before he could do serious damage to the kid.

“Suneater-!” You called out, trying to stop his stupidly brave act.

“Go! I’ve got it.” He turned to you all, nodding towards another hallway, the others ran ahead, but Midoirya, Aizawa, and you staggered for a moment.

“Make sure you tie them up, my quirk will wear off soon.” He jogged off, the green-haired boy behind his teacher.

You nodded at him. “I believe in you, do your best.” You nodded at him before following your companion. Quickly you lost Toyomitsu and Kirishma, as they were sucked into and trapped in another room.

“We have to keep going, there's no time.” Aizawa pulled you forward, trying to get you to keep moving.

“I know, it just feels like we’re purposely being split apart.” You followed him, worry filling your entire being.

Takagi locked the room in place as soon as it started to move again, even if it was a tight fit, it allowed you all to push forward.

“Stand back, he’s coming from the places I haven't locked down.” Takagi held out a hand to stop you all from moving forward, and you watched as the end of the hallway rushed towards you all.

Midorya rushed again, kicking away an entrance point. The path never cleared, so the young boy continued his assault. The wall immediately retracted, clearing away the path for you.

“What the hell..?” You wondered but were quickly cut off by the room changing once more, separating the main group into smaller groups. You were stuck with Aizawa and Midorya.

The wall dropped again, revealing two Takagi’s, and you stood in confusion between the two of them. Aizawa was fast and quickly attacked the fake Takagi before it could attack Midoriya. Himiko Toga was forcefully revealed, squealing while she chased after the boy. As effortlessly as he could, he dragged the crazed girl away, but not without getting stabbed in the shoulder.

Once more the room shifted, and tunnels of dirt and concrete erupted from the walls, you all looked around widely, trying to see where the dirt was coming from. Midoriya took action almost immediately, shooting up to kick where he thought Mimic was. The boy revealed the villain, and in an instant he erased his quirk, watching him fall to his death.

“The League betrayed them?” Aizawa questioned looking out to where the two voices had come from.

“Seems so, and they used us to aid in their scheming. Though, at least we're on solid ground now.” Nighteye adjusted his glasses, looking forward to the dark hallway, police officers scattered around.

You took a moment to recap and interrogate Irinaka, but that led him into an angry frenzy.

“As officers of the law, we cannot let them escape.” The chief held up his gun, his underlings looking around as well.

“It sounded like they were escaping, we should focus on our top priority for now instead of going into a circle.” You said, looking around. Takagi agreed with you, deciding to split up the pros with the mission and the police with the League. He decided to stay, you pulled out a small knife, handing it to him.

“Just in case.” He nodded, face still screwed up in pain.

His speech renewed the hope in your heart, you and Aizawa shared a glace and immediately ran ahead to save Eri, trying to catch up before it was too late.

Following in Midorya's shadow, he bounced ahead of the villain lying on the ground, smashing the wall in front of the group. There a sight for only the strong-hearted was seen, Chisaki and Togata were already engaged in battle, with the electric blonde already having a considerable amount of damage. Aizawa immediately yelled out commands, ordering you to round up the fallen villains. Already quickly rounding up the three villains, you were hit in Chisaki order to Chrono. Aizawa called out to Midoriya, but his body screwed back to look at you. You grunted in pain, feeling like your body was put under molasses. Chrono had gotten straight through your side, cutting a clean medium-sized hole in your midsection. And before anyone could stop him, or help him, Aizawa blinked.

The ground erupted in spikes, sending you flying through the air. Thankfully, you landed in a hole in the ground before you could get caught by the spikes. Aizawa and Chrono were already down there, the latter of the two setting atop Aizawa. Both of you were practically paralyzed, with Aizawa immediately incapacitated by his quirk. He spent the time monologuing about Chisaki, explaining the relationship that Eri had with the others in the Yakuza. Shut the hell up you scum. You couldn’t even growl out loud. Straining as you tried to get him, you were behind the two, and he must not have even realized you were down here. You heard Aizawa grunting as he slowly moved away, you watched as Chrono took out Aizawa’s own knife, opening and getting ready to stab the man with it.

You took out a small piece of light from earlier, the electric gold energy lighting up the dark room.

“Huh?” He looked around to see you, and in one fell swoop, you slashed along his Achilles heels. “You bitch.” He groaned out, dropping the knife to clutch at his heels. At the same time, Amajiki appeared, stabbing his arm with one of his food quirks. There you saw the teenage boy surrounded by police officers, guns ready. He just glared at them in defeat.

The officers helped you up, someone pulled down the bandages on Aizawa's face, and he quickly removed the effects of the quirk. You were taken in an ambulance and Aizawa was taken up to the ground floor.

“Wait! I can still help!” You tried to squirm out of their grasp, but Aizawa shook his head ‘no.’ Tears sprung in your eyes, did you do bad? You did your best. Still, you were forced into an ambulance.

___________________________________________

You were in and out of consciousness the first day, one part of the injury, but mostly out of laziness. Lack of sleep finally caught up to you, forcing you to pay your debts. Still, it wasn’t like you were out of it, you could hear voices, smell the clean hospital air, feel the thin sheets below you, and taste your dry mouth. Different types of voices visited you, your friends, you recognized dimly. But there was one who stayed as long as they could, and whenever they spoke, you turned your head to them, smiling and appreciating the smooth bass. A large and warm hand felt your forehead, then checked your cheek. But their touch lingered on your cheek, gently cupping the part of your face.

“Hmm, s’warm.” You mumbled, not really awake as you squished your face further in the hand.

“So weird.” But they never pulled away.

___________________________________________

The next day, you were fully awake, still in a little bit of pain. Thanks to quirks and advanced medical technology, your wound was mostly closed. It was still tender to the touch, and still able to open, but as long as you were careful, you’d be fine.

Now you were hungrily inhaling the food the nurse had dropped off, Aizawa watching you in muted disgust.

“Wha’?” Your mouth was still full, flakes of rice and meat juice surrounded your mouth.

“You eat like you’re an animal and not a fully grown woman.” He shook his head, eyeing you like you were gonna eat him next.

“I’m hungry dick!” Still, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eating more delicately. Aizawa rolled his eyes but stopped to watch his hands.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” He didn’t look at you.

You wanted to tease him, but there was something about his demeanor that made you hesitate. “Yeah, what do you need.” You set down your food, gently sitting up to stare at him.

“The little girl, Eri, her quirk is unstable and dangerous.” Aizawa looked up now, reaching behind him to grab a small packet of papers. He handed them to you, continuing to talk. “So is her emotional state, there’s no telling when she’ll get upset and activate her quirk.”

Multitasking, you opened the folder while listening to him Rewind. She can rewind the state of a person, down to nothing. You looked up with worried eyes.

“She’ll need someone who can stop it, and watch over her.” His words hung heavy in the air, and he was tense now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, what will you do with her?” He still hadn’t relaxed, hands clenching.

“I was thinking that she could live with us. We could watch over her.” Your eyes widened, mouth parting slightly.

“I-why me? I’m not exactly mother material.” You laughed nervously, looking at him confused. Why does he have to rope you into everything he does? Would you even be good enough to watch over the girl?

“She doesn’t need a mother, she needs someone to help her. And I..we live together, so it makes the most sense.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Yet he was still tense, but why?

You looked down at your own hands, looking over her patient file. She was a traumatized little girl who needed help.

“What i…-what if I mess something up, what if I’m not good enough?” You voiced your concern, voice wavering already. When did you get so emotional?

“You won’t be doing it alone, I’ll be there.” Aizawa's voice was soft, comforting you. You looked up at him, staring into his soft eyes.

“But why me?”

“Because it’s always you.”

___________________________________________

You, as well as the other students, were released from the hospital not too long after the raid. The drive home was silent, both of you sleepy for different reasons. You were getting used to not sleeping all day, and Aizawa was exhausted from watching over Eri all night. Even if Aizawa never put on the radio, even if you hit every red light, even if the late-night roads were quiet, neither of you spoke about what he said in the hospital. Not even when you were in the hospital.

Tiredly you both made it back home, stumbling in the dark room.

“Aizawa wait.” You held out a hand, getting his attention while he poured his cup of coffee. You turned to him, “Where is she gonna sleep? There’s only two rooms.”

Aizawa gave you a blank face, overpouring his cup, hot coffee spilling out from his hand and to the floor.

“Aizawa.” You repeated, his face still blank.

___________________________________________

“I could sleep in the living room.” Aizawa offered, both of you had your hair up/out of your way as you looked around the shared living space.

“Well that’s not fair to you, I’ll just sleep in the living room. You can keep the big room, which I still haven’t gotten over, by the way, and she gets the smaller room. You’ll be right there for her and I can just hang out.” Your hands on your hips while you stared out into the living room, staring down at the beige couch.

“I shouldn’t let you take the living room.” He shook his head, shooting down the idea immediately.

“Why not?”

“One, because you’re a slob.” Aizawa looked over to you, “Two you have far too much stuff, and three you’re a woman.”

“Okay one, kiss my ass.” You faced him as well, crossing your arms. “And what does me being a girl have to do with anything?” You gave him a dirty look.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I mean, if anyone needs their own space it should be you.” He waved you off, turning around to head into the kitchen.

“Well, Eri above anyone needs her own room, sooo…” You shook your head at him, giving him a look while he rustled through the cabinets. You thought for a moment, and a terrible idea came up in your head. Aizawa looked over at you, jelly pouch hanging out of your mouth.

“What terrible idea do you have.” He looked at you warily, still hanging into the snack through his teeth.

You shook your head, making a disgusted face.

“What?” He prodded.

“You’re not gonna like it, I don’t even like it, but we could share your room. We could buy another bed and separate the room into two.” You slowly lifted your hands in a questioning manner, your voice high.

Aizawa stared at you, one of his eyes raising in an annoyed look. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, what other idea do you have?”

He looked around, thinking for a moment before he groaned very loudly. “You just want to have the bathroom in the room, don’t you?”

“I’m merely making the conscious decision for the both of us considering your situation.” You held your hands up in a non-accusing way, trying to fake some sort of innocence.

“Fine.” He grunted, turning around to wash the dishes in the sink. You tried to ignore the implications of what sharing a room meant, far more intimate than sharing a home. Walking past, you willfully ignored his blushing ears.

___________________________________________

Aizawa’s time was spent between watching over Eri and working as a teacher. So you didn't see him often for a while, whereas you were suck with redecorating and adjusting your home. You started off slow, just buying kid shit for her, like books, stuffed animals, and cubbies. But when it came time to put together said cubbies and bookshelves you let them build up, and you very pointedly ignored moving the beds. Aizawa was too busy for you to ask, and you sure as hell couldn't, or was it wouldn't, who knows, do it all by yourself. So you called the one man who you knew would help you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No lift with your legs.”

“I am lifting with my legs! Hurry up jackass, I’m gonna drop the bed on my foot!” You groaned with the effort, damning yourself for wanting such a heavy frame.

Snipe sighed, rolling his eyes at you while he backed up. He had one hand holding the bottom of the sideways bed, the other supporting the top. Ever so gently he led you out of your old room and into Aizawa’s room.

“Okay ready? I’m gonna set it down, and you have to do it with me.” He looked back at you, his sharp eyes piercing.

“Yup.” Your voice was strained, trying not to drop the bed. Following his lead, you turned the bed slowly and dropped it. You sighed, leaning over on your knees while you caught your breath. “Fuck.” Looking up, the bed was in the middle of the room, and you needed to shove it to the other side of the room, opposite to Aizawa’s

“I got it.” Snipe waved you away, immediately going to drag the bed in place.

“Thanks.”

You knew Snipe would answer your call, often times you hung out outside of work, and on the rare times he hosted an outing, you went with him. He stood back up, the muscle shirt he was wearing doing wonders for his body, showing off his toned arms and flashing you his exposed sides. And for a man whose quirk was a gun, he sure as hell did have a slutty waist.

“Alright break time.” You walked out of the room, Snipe following you with laughter.

“We’ve barely started.”

“And now it’s break time.” You filled up two cups of water, handing one to him. Your hands brushed briefly, his course fingertips quickly ghosting over yours. There was a beat of silence, he made direct eye contact while he took a sip from his cup.

It’s not like you haven't thought about it, even before Snipe showed his face you knew he’d be hot under there. It was sometime after the final exams in the first term, he had been retelling the embarrassing story of his run-in with Hagakure. You had laughed at him loudly in the warm night air, tears springing to your eyes. You could feel his eyes on you, even if you couldn’t see them.

“Why do you wear your mask all the time?” You asked out loud after calming down. He stared ahead, and instead of responding he just tugged it off.

He looked at you with brilliant grey eyes, little targets in them. He had dark and thick eyebrows, long pretty eyelashes, and his full lips pulled in a smirk. Across his face was a gnarly scar, it looked like he had been slashed at an angle across, leaving behind a slightly raised thick wound.

“You’re face is a little lighter than your body.” You said stupidly, brain short-circuiting.

He just laughed and looked back out into the courtyard.

“I know.”

You cleared your throat, willing away all of the not-very-safe-for-work thoughts that filled your head.

“I have to wonder, why are you and Aizawa sharing a room?” Snipe sat on the table, leaning back to watch you. His thick thighs were highlighted when he sat down, shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, and you swore he widened them when he caught you looking. Damn these slutty men.

“It’s nothing like that,” You waved him away. “Have you heard about the little girl that's going to be living here?” He nodded.

“Her name is Eri, and her quirk is unstable, so Aizawa has guardianship over her so she doesn’t accidentally kill someone. Which means that she’s gonna live with him, which means she’s gonna live with us.” You sighed.

“But why does that equate to you and Aizawa sharing a room?” He waved an arm, looking at you curiously.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re jealous, Snipe.” You smirked, but it dropped. “Eri immediately gets a room, that’s a given, but I wanted Aizawa close by, but he thought it’d be inappropriate for me to sleep out here. So now we’re bunking together.”

Snipe hummed, closing his eyes and looking away. But out of the corner of his eyes he peeked at you. “You could always spend the night at my place if you need, Sejikiro doesn’t mind guests over, since he’s usually out.”

Before you could respond, a presence made themselves known.

“That’s completely inappropriate.” Aizawa snapped, holding a bag of groceries.

“Hey, Aizawa.” Snipe turned in his direction, waving hello.

“Why are you here?” He greeted back.

“He helped me move my bed, and he’s helping me put together the bookcases and Eri’s bed.” You peeked over, looking at him. Aizawa was just angrily looking at Snipe, who was staring back.

“You couldn’t have asked me?” He was pissed at you now?

“You’ve been busy.” You shrugged, stepping out to try and cool the angry man.

“I would’ve helped, you just needed to ask.” Aizawa growled out. “Now I’m here, so you,” He looked over to Snipe, who was just lazily watching the whole conversation, “Can get out now.” Aizawa sidestepped the door, motioning for him to leave.

“I’m already here now, plus if we all three work together, I’m sure it’ll go by quickly.” He tried to soothe the stern teacher.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, get out.” Neither Aizawa nor Snipe moved, silently challenging one another.

Snipe got up without a word, and on his way out he turned to you. “Call me whenever you need help, you have my number.” He waved goodbye, Aizawa slamming the door in his face.

“What the hell was that?” You asked in disbelief, watching the man you lived with as he strutted across the room. He threw the bags on the groaned, angrily opening the edge door to shove the food in there. “Hello?” You got closer, standing right behind him.

“I didn’t know you were calling other men to come by our house alone. You can’t do this when Eri comes in.” He was basically throwing in the food now, the poor grapes and carrots chucked to the back.

“Like Snipe isn’t our friend, what was going to happen? He helped me move the bed.” You were leaning over him now, anger now filling you. It’s been a while since you fought, the song and dance you both created had shifted over time.

“He’s your friend, not mine.” Aizawa stood up. “Plus, anything he did I could’ve done easily, there was no reason to call him. I live here too.” Aizawa got in your face, glowering.

“You’ve been busy. I’m not going to bother you-”

“It wouldn’t be a bother! All I’ve been doing is making sure Eri’s healing process goes as scheduled, nothing I couldn’t have left to help you.”

Both of you just stood there, breathing angrily in each other's spaces, chest to chest.

“Why do you care so much? Aren’t you happier that I’m taking the work off your hands?” You asked, anger ebbing away.

Aizawa said nothing in response, looking away slightly ashamed.

“Because I don’t like other people in my house.” Bull.

“What about Nemuri or Hizashi? You have no problem with them coming over? Or Anan and Sejikiro?” You asked, genuinely confused.

His shoulders slumped, eyebrows slightly going up. “It’s different.”

“How? In what way?”

Aizawa’s tired eyes looked at you, and you realized what Fukukado was talking about.

“I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him..”

“It just is, if you need my help, you can just call me. I’ll be there.”

___________________________________________

The first thing you noticed was how small she was, and how stringy and thin her hair was.

You were sitting in the hallway of the front door, wearing a Hello Kitty jacket and baggy sweatpants. Eri was clutching onto Aizawa’s hand painfully, but he made no move to pull away.

“Hey, little one.” You made no movement, both you and Aizawa letting her decide what to do. He was just staring at her, gauging her reactions.

She said your name, asking whether or not you were you.

“Yes I am, did Mr. Aizawa tell you I was a hero?” You asked softly, smiling at her. She nodded, one hand on her face.

“And I’m going to be living with you too?”

“Yes ma’am.” You nodded dutifully.

“Why, uhm..” Her voice got quiet, and she mumbled into her hand. Aizawa crouched down, getting on her level. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded shyly. She turned back to you, big eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you see me in the hospital?” She asked, looking down while her voice wavered. In turn, your eyes filled with tears, guilt ripping you open. You swallowed away your tears and leaned forward.

“I’ve been busy getting your room all ready for you. Remember when Mr. Aizawa asked what your favorite animals and colors were?” You asked.

She turned back, eyes widening as she nodded.

“Well, want to go see?” She nodded enthusiastically again. You slowly got up, holding a hand out for her to grab. She did gratefully, but she never let go of Aizawa’s forcing you to walk side by side as you walked to her room.

You opened the door, and she gasped, running in and looking excitedly at everything. You and Aizawa watched in adoration as she squealed, never moving from the doorway.

You looked over at him and saw he was already staring at you.

“What?” You asked, laughing while a bashful blush spread across your face.

“You’ll do great, I don’t understand why you were so worried.” He shook his head, a small smile on his own face, ears burning hot.

You exhaled out of your nose, smiling as you turned back to Eri, who was watching you two. She just slowly crawled up to you two, slowly hugging both of your legs. Her grip became tight, and you and Aizawa shot each other’s worried looks.

“What’s wrong honey?”

“Eri is something wrong?”

She looked up to you two, face red and eyes watery. “You guys are like mommy and daddies.” She sniffed, “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

You frowned deeply, eyes filling up again with tears. Aizawa started to blink rapidly, inhaling deeply as he looked up.

“Oh Eri, you could never hurt us. I promise to protect you.” You hugged her tiny frame, soothing her shaking. Aizawa joined you, hugging her just as tight.

“We’ll always be here for you, alright?”

That was a promise neither of you would break, no matter what happened.

___________________________________________

they make me mentally unwell,,AND BEFORE YOU ASK YESS I'LL WRITE A PT 3 its just this was already 12k words, and i knew that it would jest get more unreasonable the more I wrote,,,soooo,,,they make me so ill I just,,,

Also I know eri doesn't come home till later, but lick my bawls,,,I'm forcing parenthood on them

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gothic-thoughts · 5 months

Text

Formal Introduction

(he's my father fr, so the first fic for him wont be nun freaky)

Aizawa Shouta x Black GN Reader Fluff

FatherAU, HighSchool!Reader(cuz UA duh), Kind of a Drabble

CW: starting a new school, reader has social anxiety, switched perspectives, breathing exercises(brief)

TW: Mini anxiety attack

A/n: (any and all Japanese is either written or confirmed by DeepL. And is also written in Romaji to pronounce)

"Oi. Look at me." I say, caressing their cheek, "You're acting like they're gonna eat you alive."

"Dad, you said that it's a tame class." They whisper aggressively, "They look the opposite of tame to me!"

We take a second peek through the skinny window of the door to see my "tame" class of 20 kids doing everything from standing to talking, some even yelling. Denki, of course.

"Hm, sore wa honto da(that's true), but they'll quiet down when I walk in."

"Daaad"

"You'll be fine."

"What if my quirk's not cool enough?"

My eyebrows raise as my arms cross, "And who cares?"

They shrug, "Wakaranai(don't know). Sorry, I'm just worried. They've been here since the first day and I'm like 3 months late!"

"It's not, besides you're my kid. Who's gonna care how late you are or how cool your quirk is?"

They hit my shoulder making us both chuckle a little at my words.

"Remember to--"

"Yes Aizawa sensei. Only call you 'dad' if absolutely necessary."

"You're gonna make it." I smiled, "You're gonna have to or your mother will kill me."

I opened the door, leading them inside as my class's loud talking turned to murmurs before they disperse, quickly and quietly running back to their assigned seats.

"Ohayougozaimasu(good morning)."

They all bow slightly, "Aizawa sensei, ohayougozaimasu!"

"As you can see, we have a new student joining us today." I look over at them, "Douzo(go ahead)."

(Y/n) plays with their bangs for a little before taking a deep breath.

"Um, I'm (Y/n) and..." They stammer, "...and um I can...."

They visibly freeze, causing a few of the kids to mumble amongst themselves. Come on, you got it. What happened? My angel looked back at me and I tense upon seeing the fiery traces of scarlet in their eyes spread out to overtake their entire iris was red. Their quirk was a combination of mine and their mother who could see 20 feet through anything.

(Y/n)'s quirk being active means I couldn't activate mine and neither could anybody in a 20 foot radius behind the board. I know they're not the best with public speaking but they haven't been this nervous since elementary. I guess I could just point to the back of the room to get them to look away from me, but they have to learn how to control their powers somehow. I look at the class, clearing my throat.

“Karerano onamaewa (Y/n)(Their name is [Y/n]).” I say, leaning back in my chair, “Watashino kodomo desu(My child)."

(Y/n) sighs in relief as their red eyes reduce back to the natural shimmer in the black of their eyes. I sigh, closing my eyes while the class gasps.

"Your child!?"

"You have a kid?!" Ashido yelled.

"How did they survive!?" Kaminari yelled.

"You never told us you had a whole kid, Aizawa sensei" Sero chimed in, "Much less one our age!"

"She's so pretty!" Ururaka gasped.

I sigh, “Is it too late to enroll you somewhere else?”

(Y/n) laughed into their palm, “You won’t be able to watch me.”

“Fair enough.” I facepalm. “Oi, ochitsuite(calm down)! Just because they're my child, doesn’t mean treat them different that anyone else in the hero course. I'm giving you all 5 minutes to get to know them a little before we start."

"Can we see their quirk?!" Kirishima asked.

"What is her quirk?!" Midoriya asked.

"Idiot." Bakugou said, "It's obviously something with her eyes!"

“You can all ask her within the 5 minutes.” I sigh, rolling my eyes, “Dozo(go ahead).”

(Y/n) walks closer to them and I watch as the class welcomes them in with open arms and plenty of questions, mostly ones about me and our home lives. I scan the room, noticing almost everyone was crowded except Bakugou, who was avoiding eye contact completely. I sigh wistfully watching as (Y/n) is overloaded with everybody's names to the point of pointing at them and saying them out loud.

"Alright, alright that's enough." I yawn out, "Give her some breathing room. Kore gara hajimeruzo(we're going to start now); (Y/n), you can sit next to me until we get you a seat."

"Okay."

They jog to the available seat next to my desk. That's better, there's that smile. Just needed a little push. I quickly discard my smile and stand from my desk, waiting for them all to sit down so I can start my lesson.

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

Let's run it back

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

Formally Introduced

"As you can see, we have a new student joining us today." Dad looks over at me, "Douzo(go ahead)."

I play with my bangs for a couple seconds before taking a deep breath to end the dreadfully awkward silence in the room. I try to speak after that but it was nothing but another breath.

"Um, I'm (Y/n) and..." I stupidly stutter out, "...and um I can...."

I can't. There's so many people. Dammit. I freeze, causing a few of the kids to mumble amongst themselves. Desperate, I look back at my dad and when he tenses up, my heart rate skyrockets. His breathing becomes slightly louder as he tries to get me to copy it's slow speed when his eyes leave mine, looking at his class with a gentle "ahem".

“Karerano onamaewa (Y/n)(Their name is [Y/n]).” He says, leaning back, “Watashino kodomo desu(My child)."

I sigh in relief as my heart rate began to settle, closing my eyes before they fly open at the loud and sudden collective gasp from my new classmates.

"Your child!?"

(A/n): this is kind of an OC too cuz of the quirk i've been thinking of

#mha aizawa #aizawa fluff #aizawa shouta #x black reader #black reader #black writers #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #bnha aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #mha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #aizawa mha #aizawa bnha

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karikarasuno · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings/Tags: Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Implied Trauma, Discussions of Grief & Death, Arguing in the middle of a Tropical Storm, Smut (18+ only), Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Slight Body Worship

a/n: oh lord, it’s here, all done and i’m feeling stupid sentimental about it. what will i think about now, if not shouta aizawa? this was a journey and thank you to everyone that have been sending me such sweet words of encouragement and support, fr ily. happy bigbangacademia day, and i’m a little sad to see the summer end and am forever grateful to have been apart of this. pls check out all of the other amazing pieces bc i know i will be.

part one | part two | part three

The bed is fuller. The space that you’re accustomed to is now being taken up and you’re confused. Your half conscious mind is struggling to comprehend how little space you have because it’s something you’re not used to anymore. Whatever, or better yet, whoever is laying beside you will not stop fidgeting. They’re limbs squirm beneath the bedsheets beside you and some of the comforter that you’re wrapped in is now being pulled in the opposite direction.

“Eri, you’re going to wake her up if you keep worming around,” Shouta whispers, his voice stern but slightly amused at her antics. You can sense that it’s early morning. The sun has barely risen and the room is cooler than usual. Goosebumps light up your skin as a result. You bury your face in your pillow so as to not alert them that you’re already awake. And you keep from flinching when Eri’s cold feet press into your exposed calf. You smile, though, because you remember that she always runs cold. Much like Shouta does.

Her hand brushes your shoulder blade next, her little fingertips pressing into your skin before she’s pulling away with a lighthearted, “oops.”

“Eri, seriously stop,” he laughs under his breath, probably pulling her body closer to his when she’s no longer cuddled into your side. This isn’t the first time Eri has snuck her way into your bed. After the raid on Shie Hassaikai, Eri was under Shouta’s care, and by proxy under yours. And when you weren’t staying on the campus she often went back to the apartment you two still owned.

At the start, her sneaking into your shared bed was a result of everything that happened. Often startled awake by nightmares or afraid because she didn’t recognize the room she awoke in. You understood very quickly why she was placed with you and Shouta. When her quirk would flare up outside of her control, he was the only one able to stop it. But when her emotions got the better of her, you were there to help her through them. The two of you made a solid partnership. Any challenge solved in stride and with an ease that would make most people envious. Even you are jealous of the people that you used to be.

“When are you coming back home?” She tries to whisper, her voice just above one as she readjusts again.

“Soon,” Shouta answers, voice quieter than hers in an attempt not to wake you.

“Can I stay with you again when you come back? I miss my room,” Eri says, the habit of calling the spare bedroom hers was immediate as soon as she moved in. It wasn’t the easiest transition at the time, but a necessity that the two of you had to adjust to rather quickly. Then it was almost odd not to refer to it as hers.

“I don’t see why not. We love having you there,” he says, and you assume he tickles her because she giggles suddenly, her elbow coming out and accidentally poking your back.

“Do you think she’ll be happier if I’m there?” And it seems like the question stuns the both of you. A silence that weighs a ton has the room feeling too small and the bed feeling way too overcrowded. There’s a moment of this silence that lasts an eternity, but you recognize it’s realistically only been a few seconds.

“What do you mean?” The question is hesitant and small. He sounds almost uncomfortable and like he doesn’t actually want an answer. But if you’re being honest, you’re not sure you want one either.

“Um, I just think she’s sad sometimes,” she starts, words very carefully chosen as her little body stills next to yours. “And the only reason I know what being sad looks like is because she taught me that sometimes I feel sad.”

You stiffen. You hope it isn’t noticeable, but your breath also stutters and you pray he isn’t looking in your direction or else he’d know for sure that you are no longer asleep. You hadn’t realized you’d been so obvious about how you were feeling, especially when you spent time with her. You thought you’d been so careful about masking it, but Eri was perceptive, far more than anyone gives her credit for. It makes sense though, having to read everyone’s emotions just to survive. It’s a miracle she turned out mostly fine with her daily routine depending on if whoever walked into her cell of a bedroom was in a good mood or a bad one.

“Did she say to you that she felt that way?”

“No,” Eri replies, and your heart rate is picking up. There’s an overwhelming amount of guilt sticking to the chambers of your heart because of it. “Her smile is different and she’s always looking far away.”

It’s excruciating, the quiet that follows. You wish you were still asleep, wish that you were unconscious in some way in order to be ignorant to this entire conversation. Unfortunately, your recent streak of luck hasn’t been in your favor at all.

“Oh, I know!” She gasps rather loudly and Shouta quickly shushes her before her voice drops into a whisper again. “You can take her out for ice cream. Remember when I was feeling sad that time and you took me to get some and I tried aaaalll the flavors on those little spoons.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Shouta says, and you now wish you could see the look on his face. If it matched his tone at all, you could perfectly imagine the sadness in his tired eyes and it stings.

“That was my favorite day,” she adds dreamily. “I was so happy.”

The crew leave later that evening and you aren’t feeling so happy about it. After the conversation you overheard this morning in bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You and Shouta had been carefully tiptoeing around each other ever since, and you have the distinct feeling that he knows. He knows that you heard more than you’re letting on, but just like everything else, you avoid it. It’s a special skill the two of you have developed, where anything can happen and you won’t talk about it. And as much as you both like to pretend that everything is fine. That everything is normal. In every way that’s not true, so an explosion is bound to happen, you’re just too anxious to think about what that catalyst will be.

It’s much easier to ignore what's wrong when everyone is around. The dinner the night before went better than anything you could’ve imagined. It was as if the old versions of yourselves were at that doorstep, and you didn’t have to worry about the eggshells that always seem to be littering the floor these days. You laughed, and for the first time it wasn’t strained or tight in your throat. And he smiled, so openly that you almost reached over Eri’s head to kiss him when you were seated at the table.

But now the suffocating silence returned. And he’s back in the spare bedroom, lights off with only the blue light of his laptop illuminating his features. You had asked if he needed anything before you went to shower for bed. An attempt at bridging some sort of gap. He said no, that he is going to work on a few things and he’d join you as soon as he was done. It is the tiniest of steps, but it’s more than what you’ve been getting from him this far. And maybe you’d actually go to sleep together tonight. On your own sides of the bed with the foot of space between your backs. But at least it would be at the same time.

You turn on the showerhead absentmindedly, undressing slowly as you go over this weekend in your head. Your mind is far off and you’re reminded that you guess you have a tendency of zoning out courtesy to Eri for noticing such a thing. You shake your head with a small laugh to yourself, forcing your mind to try and be present. Before you step into the shower though, there’s a crawling sensation on your foot. You don’t think much of it until you look down and see the largest cockroach you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing in your life.

The shriek that leaves you is unintentional as you fling your foot out and watch as it flies to the other side of the bathroom. The only thing is, by flying you mean it has wings and it’s coming right back in your direction.

The second scream is out of pure, frightened disgust, and really you can’t control it because it’s humongous. You yank the towel from off the rack next to the shower door, squealing again with stress as you corner yourself as far away from the insect as you possibly could. You weren’t thinking of Shouta when you reacted though, so him crashing through the bathroom door is the last thing you expect to see. The hair that was tied at the back of his head has more strands falling out of the hair tie than in it. And he looks genuinely worried, his body is hardened and ready for a fight. Years of hero instincts kicking into overdrive as he races to assess the situation.

Except instead of finding the villain you’re positive he expected to find, it’s just you. Naked, vulnerable, and being antagonized by a roach you swear is the size of your palm.

“Kill it,” you squeak out, finger pointing in the direction of your opponent as you glance frantically between it and your husband. Too on edge to keep your eyes off of it for long lest it come back to crawl all over you again.

“Kill it,” you say again, your voice shaking but firm in your demand.

“You’re kidding me,” he says, visibly relaxing as he slides the slipper off one of his feet and holds it steady in one hand.

“I wish I was, Shouta,” you whine, body shuddering with the memory of the bug on your skin. “Can you just kill it, please?”

And when his eyes meet yours, he’s hiding a smile. He wants to laugh, but knows he shouldn’t. You want to laugh too, but can’t help but still feel like you’re being hunted by something ten times smaller than you. Shouta creeps towards it, muscles still flexed as he stalks towards it with a hand raised up by his shoulder and you shield yourself behind his movements. It's crawling on the bath mat now, no care in the world, and you wonder if it knows that you’re so terrified. You wonder if it finds sick and twisted enjoyment at knowing you are thoroughly at its mercy. And when Shouta lunges at it, body lurching forward. The thing has the nerve to fly over his head and straight at you.

In that moment, you determined that yes, it does know and yes, it is just as sadistic as you think it is. You let out another high pitched scream, sharp enough to hurt your own eardrums as you throw your hands over your head and wave them about like a maniac. You hear a low chuckle then, completely entertained and under any other circumstances you’d scold him for laughing at you. But if this is what it takes to hear him so freely, you guess you’d fight a hundred cockroaches in the bathroom. Fine, maybe not that many. But enough to hear his laugh for a lifetime.

He bumps your shoulder, then. His arm extends past your torso and he smacks his shoe against the tile and with a sharp crunch you know its dead. Which should be a relief, except you’re no longer concerned with the dead roach that interrupted your shower. You’re far more distracted by Shouta, who’s standing up straight now, his clothed arm pressing into your stomach and butterflies erupt there. Butterflies you assumed were long gone.

“I got it,” he breaths, oddly proud of himself as he focuses his attention on you. And you know you’re flushed, breaths coming heavier with the unexpected exertion of energy, but even more so by your husband, who’s touching you. Yes it’s through two layers of fabric, but you can feel him in a way you haven’t in so long.

“Thanks,” you exhale, arms limp at your side. You’re frozen beneath his stare, glued to the spot that his eyes are pinning you to and you’re lightheaded. In that thrilling, adrenaline fueled kind of way.

Your towel slips when he shifts away from you, his forearm no longer holding it in place when he does. And before you can react with enough time to catch it, he pinches the coarse material between two fingers and hovers it just above your breasts. His hand is still a very conscious hair’s breadth away from your exposed body, the towel raised enough to keep you decent.

“Any time,” he says before shaking the towel in a sign that you should probably take it from him. So you do, gathering it in both of your hands and pressing it into your sternum. You’re surprised when he doesn’t move. When he holds your eye contact for a second longer than necessary before slipping out of whatever tense atmosphere you created to clean up the roach in some toilet paper and then flushing it down the toilet.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t so affected by him. Lying if you waved off your reaction and watered it down to sexually frustrated attraction. Yet, you’d also be kidding yourself if you ignored the blush that stained his face. The red that is so deep, you know he tried to hide it on his way out with the hair that is now framing his face. You smile. And for the first time since you’ve arrived at this little house on the beach it's hopeful.

“Thanks for stopping by, Kirishima.” You lean a hand on your office door as you walk Kirishima out. He came over just as the lunch period began, a little rattled and incredibly antsy. He word-vomited for some odd minutes before you were able to calm him down enough to get him to tell you what was really going on.

“Thanks for listening,” he shrugs, his usual demeanor returning to him and he smiles up at you all toothy and bright. “I’m just really worried about him, y’know.”

“Of course, and I’m sorry you felt like you had to go save him,” you say, remembering the mess that occurred when some of the students snuck off campus to rescue Bakugo from the villains that kidnapped him. “It was dangerous, but I have to admit it was brave and I’m happy you guys got him out safely.”

“Yeah, seems like you’re the only one who thinks so,” he adds, a tad forlorn and obviously still beating himself up over it. But he shakes himself of the thought, features reconstructing once again to the cheerful smile he always seems to wear. “Anyway, sorry to bother ya!”

“Not a bother,” you say, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “and I’ll try to talk to him.”

“You’re the best.” He smiles again, and it’s sweet, before he heads off to eat with whatever remaining time he has left in his lunch.

It’s not for lack of trying. As soon as Bakugo was returned safely and he had some time to come to terms with being freshly kidnapped, you tried to get him in for a session. Even went as far as scheduling him and having Shouta tell him that he needs to come to the meeting. But he didn’t show up. And you weren’t entirely surprised.

He’s training. It’s all he’s been doing since he got back, and you understand why. He wants to be stronger, to not have to be put in such a vulnerable position like that again. But he has a tendency to bottle things up, and eventually, especially in his case, he has a recurring theme of ‘exploding.’ His quirk is quite aggressive, so it only makes sense that the way he copes with things manifests in a similar fashion. And it’s not like you want to change him, you just want to talk to him.

But he’s good at avoiding you. A little too good and it’s frustrating.

Your day ends late. Like it has been for the last couple of weeks. It’s already dark out when you leave your office and you text Shouta about dinner plans but he said he was going to miss it. Late night training session with Shinsou, probably. And you’re genuinely happy Shinsou is getting the training he deserves, he works so hard and you don’t want to see his potential go to waste. But you’d be lying if you didn’t say you missed your husband.

After the USJ attack, you were glued to Shouta’s side as he recovered, but once he was all healed and cleared to tackle work again, he hit the ground running. So seeing him was only ever in passing and you missed him. It’s not like you could entirely say you hadn’t been doing something similar, though. I mean tonight alone you are leaving your office hours later than you should’ve been.

The sun has long ago set, the campus quiet, but the evening is nice. There’s a gentle breeze that accompanies you to your room, the leaves rustling beside you as you stroll. Deciding that you can take your time since you don’t have any plans other than to relax once you get there. There’s a crunching in the distance, though, and the hairs on your arms stand up. Since all of the recent attacks, you’ve taken it upon yourself to brush up on your self defense, even going as far as training your quirk to have some kind of defensive behavior. So you activate it in your palms, the blood rushing through your body now pounding in your ears and you try to remain calm. But it's hard.

You quiet your steps as you creep closer to the sounds, phone already set to dial for help in case you need it. But when you round the corner, peeking around a particularly thick tree trunk, you see Bakugo. He’s perched on a flat rock that’s elevated a few feet off of the ground. His legs are dangling off the edge and he’s resting with his face in his hands and elbows on his knees. You don’t want to disturb him, he’s clearly trying to sort something out, but your intuition is telling you that now is your chance to try with him. And that this will absolutely be your only one.

You disable your quirk, shutting off your phone screen in the process as you step around the tree and into the small clearing. He hears you immediately, his head shooting up from his hands as his eyes narrow into angry slits.

“It’s just me,” you say, holding your hands up in surrender as you continue to close the distance between you. He’s tired. His usual combative energy is only a fraction of what it usually is and he turns his face away from you to look into the density of the woods.

“What’re you doing here?” He even sounds just as tired as he looks, and you’re not sure if he’s even aware that the walls that he’s built so thickly around him are starting to erode. To thin enough for you to see straight through him.

“I was heading back to the dorms before I heard a weird noise coming from over here,” you say casually, stopping a few feet away from where he’s sitting to observe him.

“So you head towards the suspicious sound? I’ve seen people in horror movies make smarter decisions than that,” he scoffs, but the usual bite is gone, even the bark is dialed down to an unrecognizable degree.

“Good thing I didn’t stumble upon danger then, just you,” you say, taking another small step forward towards the small boulder. He doesn’t slide away from you, though, so you use that as a sign to close the space a bit more and lean on the rock next to him.

“How are you doing by the way?” You ask, maybe not being as sly as you want to be, but you also don’t know when you’ll set him off and if he’ll storm away from you like he has before. He shakes his head in irritation though, dropping it to look at his feet before he shrugs. He’s exhausted. You don’t know if he’s been sleeping. Or even eating properly. Clearly something is off enough for Kirishima to ask you to look into it.

“Why d’you care?” He responds, tone gruff and annoyed, but laced with a sadness that claws at you.

“Because I do.” It comes out more forceful than you intended, the words coming out with a harsh edge. Almost offended.

“Only because it’s your job.”

“No,” your brows furrow and your hands come up to brace your body weight on your palms in order to sit next to him. “It's my job to listen. But I don’t get paid to care about you. I care because I want to.”

“Why?” The question falls from his lips seemingly without permission. Regret writes itself all over his face as he twists away from you. There’s no way you can tell what’s going through his head, but you recognize it. The insecurity and self-doubt. It’s familiar to you.

“I don’t need a reason.”

“Well,” his voice dies off, his eyes still focused on the ground beneath his feet. “Maybe I do.”

“I find it hard to believe that you just care outta the goodness of your heart.” Bitterness drips from his tongue, his face twisting into his signature scowl. “That’s some stupid shit Deku would say.”

You wait a second before you respond, letting his words marinate for the both of you. It’s rare that you’re ever really at a loss for words. Rare that you don’t even have something small or encouraging to say. But Bakugo is tough to crack, and when he does, you realize that you are woefully unprepared for it.

“Bakugo-”

“It’s fine,” he mutters, waving a hand in your direction, but still avoiding eye contact. “I’m fine.”

“You wanna know something?” You decide to go the personal route, maybe for him it’ll work.

“Do I gotta choice?” He huffs out, arms crossing over his chest indignantly.

“You always have a choice,” you chuckle through your nose, only continuing when he gives you another half-hearted shrug. “When I was your age I remember how much it sucked. I couldn’t get a handle on my quirk, every day was just another pile of shit I had to jump over, and no one ever took me seriously. Life sucked.”

He doesn’t respond, but he’s listening. “And obviously our lives are nowhere near the same, and I know that all us adults are always spouting the same crap over and over. It gets better. You grow and move on. Life won’t be dictated by who you are as a teenager. Blah blah blah.”

He glances your way, not turning his head but his eyes flicker towards you and it encourages you to keep going. “But in all honesty, life doesn’t just get better unless you want it to. I respect you so much, even if you run away from me every time you see me in the halls.”

“I don’t run away,” he argues, glaring at you.

“Right, you just got better things to do,” you tease, smiling at him with your lips closed, but amused nonetheless.

“Exactly,” he grumbles.

“Seriously, though, if you need me to give you a reason as to why I care. It’s simple. It’s because you care. About becoming a hero. About your friends. And since you care so much, it’s hard for me not to want to care with you.”

Your response settles over him, the chirping of grasshoppers is filling the silence and you gaze up at the twinkling stars against the deep sky. Leave it to Bakugo to find one of the only places in the city with the clearest view of the constellations. It’s almost impossible to see anywhere else because of the light pollution. But here he is, sitting just beneath it as they all wink at you from millions of miles away.

“I still have nightmares.” It’s almost stolen by the sounds of rustling leaves and chirping. He mumbles it into the back of his hand as he wipes at his bottom lip, but when you turn your head to face him, he knows he’s been caught red-handed.

“About that night and being restrained,” he adds, almost unwillingly as he continues to avoid your avid stare. “It’s pathetic, really. Feeling so helpless. Like I’ve worked this hard only to be just as weak as I’ve always been.”

“You’re not, though. You’re anything but weak and going through that experience doesn’t mean that all the progress you’ve made up until now is void.”

“Still, I fucking hate it.” The aggression you're familiar with is trickling back into his voice again. And you’re relieved. The fight is beginning to return back to him and all those weeks of you pleading with him to come in for a session no longer feel pointless. Because this was the moment you were waiting for.

Bakugo throws his hand out towards you suddenly, palm facing towards the sky and you fight the urge to lean away from him. Initially not understanding what he was asking for, but it’s an invitation. One that you’re so shocked he even gave to you.

“Are you sure?” You ask tentatively to make sure you’re not misunderstanding his gesture.

“Yeah,” he replies, arm still outstretched towards you and his fingers flex before he relaxes them. “I just want to remember what it’s like to not always feel this way.”

You take his hand in earnest, feeling his calloused palm press against yours before asking, “And how do you want to feel?”

He finally meets your gaze, eyes hardened with determination. “Like myself again.”

Spending your early mornings drinking your coffee with Koi on the back patio has become routine. And one of the few treasured parts of your day. When you initially packed for this trip you expected the heat to be unbearable, but mornings are always surprisingly so pleasant. You rest your upper body weight against the wooden railing, Koi sitting so properly beside your elbow with his tail swishing contentedly. He’s funny, somehow memorizing your schedule enough to wait patiently by the sliding glass doors every morning for his breakfast. And as you stand and watch the last few traces of the sunrise, he always accompanies you, sometimes nuzzling his little head against your knuckles and purring.

“Hey,” Shouta says from behind you, a fresh mug of coffee in his hand as he stands just before the step to come outside.

“Hey, stranger,” you respond lightly, tossing the greeting over your shoulder as you continue staring at how the sky burns orange against a blue, cloudless backdrop.

“What’re you doing out here?” He asks as he takes that first step forward. Resting his mug along the railing to pet Koi, who is now sniffing his fingers intently.

“Koi and I do this every morning,” you say, staring at how cute the cat is rubbing up against Shouta so aggressively.

“You named him?”

“Course I named him,” you laugh lightly, pulling your robe tighter around you. “I feed him every day so he has to have a name.”

Shouta shakes his head, feigning disapproval as the cat stands on his hind legs and stretches out on his chest. “Koi?” He asks you, eyes sliding over to watch for your answer.

“Yeah.”

“It suits him,” he nods, scratching behind his ear as his purring grows louder.

“I thought so too,” you smile at the pair, scrunching your nose in amusement when he headbutts Shouta to rub against him. The three of you stay like that for some moments. And it’s comfortable, so much so that you almost forget why you’re here in the first place as you watch the sun come up. You both finish your coffees in each other’s presence. The silence that you used to dread with every fiber of your being is somehow different. Still tense and full of words unsaid. But different, and you can’t quite put your finger on why that is.

You don’t want to be the first to leave, not to prove some point, but because you refuse to lose a quiet that for once isn’t riddled with awkwardness.

“Hizashi called.” It’s abrupt. Louder than you think he intended and rushed out. When you look over at him to confirm that the words were actually said from his lips, he’s inhaling deeply. His eyes are closed and his brows are pinched. Almost like he ate something he didn’t like.

“That’s surprising,” you say, treading lightly, the sounds of crunching eggshells already ringing in the distance. “He’s usually not up this early unless he has to be.”

“I don’t think he slept, actually.” He sighs, sounding like he didn’t get any sleep either. He drags a hand down his face, his hair loose from the usual low bun he has it in. And you give him the space to continue if he chooses to. Not wanting to take a mile from the inch he’s given to you.

“Oboro’s anniversary is coming up. Time doesn’t seem to be slowing down for anyone.”His gaze is set on the horizon, his posture rod straight as his thoughts finally travel from his brain to his lips to your ears.

This is the first time he’s mentioned Oboro since the Kurogiri investigation. The nail in the coffin of your marriage that sealed his distance and buried your relationship six feet under. He shut you out after that, snowed himself in with just his grief to keep him company. You thought he just needed time, some space. But time was unforgiving and space forgets nothing.

Your first attempt at shoveling out the snow he hid behind was only met with an icyness that stabbed at you.

More time, you reasoned. More space, you justified. He’d come around soon. Until he didn’t.

“He wants to plan something for it, but I don’t know.” Another drawn out sigh, and his shoulders curve forward as if he’s trying to protect himself from something.

“Well, what do you wanna do?” Your eyes are trained on his every little action, clocking the way he seems to be struggling to open up, actively fighting his urge to close you out again.

“Run away,” he breathes out a cynical laugh through his nose. Shaking his head and grimacing.

“Isn’t that kind of what we did?”

“Mmm,” he hums, gripping the railing in two strong hands until the wood creaks under the pressure. “But everything seems to follow us everywhere, doesn’t it?”

Us. Follow us.

“You know better than I do that there are some things you can’t run away from. Some things that you have to stay back and fight, even if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t do any more funerals.” And really who can? The universe should put a cap on how much tragedy one person can experience in a lifetime. Because no one can carry this around alone, especially if they are unwilling to share that burden with someone else. He doesn’t continue. You don’t blame him either, so you know this is the end of the conversation. No sense in wringing out a dry washcloth.

“Then how about we do homemade pizza?” You redirect the conversation, okay for that one to be over but not yet ready to lose him to the spare room.

“Like-”

“Our second date,” you nod and he visibly relaxes at the memory, petting Koi absentmindedly as he thinks it over. “I can go to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients for dinner.”

“If I’m remembering correctly,” he starts, pausing thoughtfully, “you burned the hell out of that.”

Your jaw drops in offense, your eyes widen as he purposefully keeps his eyes focused elsewhere. “Do you have so little faith in my ability to improve?”

He bites back a small smile, but it peeks through when he sees the look on your face. His features are softened and he looks… relieved. A silent thank you reflects in his irises.

“And also I am not taking all of the blame for that,” you huff out, standing up straight and crossing your arms over your chest. “Because if I can remember correctly, someone set the temperature 50 degrees too high.”

“Sounds like something only an idiot would do,” he teases, smiling broader at you. Your heart does jumping jacks, your stomach somersaulting. This might just work. You and him. Maybe this is fixable, not beyond repair like you were starting to convince yourself it was.

“Just go get the ingredients,” he says softly. “I’ll wait for you.”

There’s flour covering every inch of the marble top island. You’re also covered in a ridiculous amount of it as you knead the fresh pizza dough into a ball. After your conversation this morning, the fog started to clear. And while you couldn’t see him clearly, you could at least make out the shape of him. Not close enough to touch yet, but there regardless.

“This is a disaster.” Shouta walks in from the bedroom, glasses propped on his head to keep his hair from falling in his face. He’s unsure of what to think, funny skepticism written all over his face as he scans the kitchen. The toppings are spread out all over the counter. Too many options, but you wanted to make sure you weren’t missing anything. Not that it matters because Shouta always asks for extra cheese on top of whatever else you add.

“Not a disaster, just a bit of a mess.”

“I can’t see what color the counter top is,” he argues, walking your way and looking closely at how you press your weight into the dough before you start flattening it.

“It’s mostly white, so,” you shrug, pressing your fingers into the dough to help flatten it before grabbing the rolling pin. “You gonna help me or just watch?”

“I prefer watching,” he says without missing a beat, and when you send him a glare he’s smiling before pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “What do you need?”

“Finish rolling this out for me while I preheat the oven and chop some of the veggies,” you point the pin at him for him to take so you could go wash your hands clean of flour and flakes of dried off dough. The music you have playing low in the background adds a layer of romantic intention that was not purposeful on your part, but is starkly reminiscent of your second date. You try not to overthink it when you go to change the playlist, drying your hand on a washcloth before grabbing your phone to scroll through Spotify. As you go to change the playlist, though, the song ends and blends into the next. Your thumb hovering over the shuffle button when the first few chords of your wedding song starts to fill your kitchen.

Discomfort makes you freeze, and you refuse to look Shouta’s way. This probably seems like you did it on purpose, like you’re trying to send him some message about the two of you and you’re at a loss of what to do. You feel so outside of yourself that you can’t even move.

“I swear I didn’t do that on purpose,” you explain, the need to prove yourself to him is taking over your mouth as the words fly out into his direction.

“The song?” He asks innocently, as if he isn’t having the same existential crisis you are. “It’s the one we danced to at our wedding.”

Casual. Like this alone didn’t set the house on fire and you’re standing in the middle of roaring flames. Which means you’re definitely overthinking it. Unless Shouta is doing what he does best and playing it cool. Perhaps for your sake.

“It’s a good song,” he adds smoothly, and when you chance a look at him over your shoulder he’s already got the dough into a perfect circle. Lithe fingers folding over the edges to make a crust. “I chose it for a reason.”

You remember how nervous you were that day. A small ceremony with the friends you made here and your mom flew out alone just to see you get married. Shouta had bought her a ticket without you knowing. That was his first surprise to you, but the next was this song. You chose almost everything else, but he insisted that he choose the song you danced to. And it wasn’t until he guided you by the hand into the tiny space at the venue to dance that you heard it. A song that you knew well, but the last one you’d ever think he would pick. He wasn’t much of a music listener, he held no strong opinions on it. So of course he went with the one he always heard you humming most Saturday mornings. The song you introduced to him accidentally after your first night together. When he awoke and you were making the two of you breakfast.

“Here.” He interrupts your trek down memory lane, standing directly in your line of sight with a glass half full of red wine. You accept it with slightly trembling fingers, and you hadn’t realized that your palms are sweaty, your vision a bit blurry. “What toppings do you want?”

You blink away the blurriness as you take a too big sip of your wine. He’s still watching you, eyes so obviously trying to read you, but for what? You don’t know. You clear your throat, smiling to hide whatever weird surge of emotion was building up inside of you. “Anything sounds good as long as there’s extra cheese.”

Midoriya sits across from you. On the edge of the sofa with his fingers intertwined and resting on his lap. You meet most weeks with him for an hour, and always in the early morning. He doesn’t need that period in the day to fully wake up. Once he’s awake, his mind is overflowing with thoughts so you find it most beneficial to meet with him right before the school day starts.

He’s still wearing his scarf securely around his neck, the temperature dipping drastically low overnight and you’re glad for the space heater you invested in a few years back. As soon as you came in you turned it on, and it is currently the only sound in the room. A sort of brown noise the muffles around your office as you stare at Midoriya and concern yourself with his uncharacteristic silence. You’ve only exchanged greetings, and that was after he was five minutes late. Which is also unlike him. He’s usually waiting outside your door before you even clock in for the day. But this morning you were exceptionally early. Not having slept at all when Shouta didn’t return to the small room you share.

Maybe the both of you had bad nights then.

“Midoriya.” He flinches. Like he forgot he’s here with you, and not alone in his dorm.

“Sorry.” You don’t understand what for, but when he meets your eyes it's with sincere apology.

“It’s okay.” You say it slowly, with an emphasis in the hopes that he knows that you’re being genuine. That he doesn’t have to worry about saying the wrong things here. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose of a counseling session though?” He’s confused because you’ve never given him this option. The option to sit quietly with each other as he processes his thoughts.

“Not necessarily,” you say, closing the notebook you use to take notes and setting it aside. “If you just need a second to gather your thoughts we can do that. Or if you want to throw out some of the stuff that’s going on we can sort through it together.”

He pulls out his journal at that point, opening it and flipping through it to the last page that has writing on it. It’s one of his hero quirk journals, the most recent volume, you assume. His eyes scan over the page frantically and you realize that this page is dedicated to himself. You heard about the incident at the beginning of the semester during the joint class training session. When another bit of his quirk manifested. You knew he was struggling with controlling it, and that he was frustrated when he couldn’t get a handle on it as quickly as he wanted.

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning forward some to get a better look at what his eyes are staring so hard at.

“It’s uh- it’s a quirk analysis. About my own quirk and I,” he’s pausing, his mind moving far quicker than his mouth. He can’t keep up. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, not really understanding what he means.

“Your quirk. I remember in class once when you were explaining it, that you had a hard time controlling it. That sometimes it felt too big for your body and that every time you learned something new about it, it was like another setback for your progress.”

“Is that how you’re feeling?” You see where he’s coming from now, swiftly identifying the eye of his storm.

“I think so,” he whispers, eyes still looking down at the pen scratches on the page. “I mean my quirk has always been too big for my body, but it’s like every single time I master one thing, another thing pops up and I’m starting to think I’ll never figure it out.”

You nod encouragingly, hoping that he will go on. This is a recurring theme in your sessions. Midoriya has doubts, but he’s too headstrong to quit. Every challenge is conquerable, all problems must have a solution. And that amazes you sometimes, his emotional maturity at a level that most of his peers aren’t on, his assessment skills scary accurate. But on the other hand, he has an odd fixation with having to save everyone. To the point where it can cloud his judgment, where he puts himself in a position that’s too dangerous for him to do alone. He has the will of a thousand soldiers that has gotten him out of trouble until now. But you’re afraid one day that army will dwindle down and he’ll realize that it’s actually just him. An army of one.

“But I know that I have to. I have to figure it out and soon because so much is happening and I can’t be the only one who falls behind. Not when things are only going to get worse.” He rambles, those thoughts spiraling in his head spilling out and you let them crowd the room. Take up the rest of the empty space. “A war is coming. All Might has been out of commission for months now and if I can’t improve what if we lose?”

“Why do you think the battle against the League of Villains hinges on your success? On the mastery of your quirk?”

“Well because,” he hesitates, holding something back. “I made a promise that I intend to keep. I can’t fail.”

You know he’s not lying. Mostly because he’s a bad liar. But he’s keeping something from you and that you’ve always sensed from the beginning. “You won’t fail, but you can’t succeed solely on the intentions of a promise you made. It’s gotta be more than that.”

“Like what then?” His eyes are round, his stance turning defensive and there’s a trace of fear in his voice. “If I lose someone when I know I could’ve saved them, what then?”

It’s a loaded question. One that you have been asking yourself for months now, but not having the heart to actually answer. Because you genuinely don’t know what then? If you lose Shouta because of your own faults or inconsistencies or doubts, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. But you also can’t see a solution.

“You don’t really know if you can save someone until that moment comes. It seems like an unanswerable question.”

“But if I know myself and what I’m capable of, it shouldn’t be. I should have an answer, so why is it keeping me up at night?” He’s pleading, but not with you. He’s annoyed with himself, tears of frustration gathering in his lash line and his hands are balled into angry fists. You rise from your place across from him, rounding the barrier of your coffee table to sit on the cushion next to him.

You also hate that you don’t have an answer for him, knowing that it’s your job to guide him to a resolution on his own, but you’ve hit a wall. His emotions are so strong, so passionate that even without the physical touch you need for the activation of your quirk, you’re overwhelmed by him. So much so that you can hardly keep your composure, his frustration seeping into you and you’re absorbing it like an abandoned sponge.

“We’re only human, Midoriya. We don’t hold the answers to everything, we don’t have the ability to save everyone,” you say gingerly, allowing the words to find their way into each of your resolves.

“We have to try,” he’s facing you, eyes round and bright and with such resounding faith that it stuns you. “It’s the least we can do.”

Sleep comes easier. Welcomes you in its comforting arms without the fear you’re used to. Dinner was wonderful, the wine helping you through it, loosening you up exponentially. The conversation didn’t come like it had before, but it was as close to normal than it has been since you got married. And after polishing off your third glass, you were a giggling mess. God, and it was so nice to just feel like that again. To clean the kitchen together, him drying the dishes as you washed them and then you two tucking yourselves into bed at the same time.

So when you wake up, the room still as dark as it was when you went to bed, you’re confused to find you’re alone. Empty. And you hate yourself for expecting it not to be. Expectations that you said you wouldn’t have anymore. You know you won’t be able to fall back asleep, instead twisting around to find your phone, curious as to what time it is. It’s close to 8am, which doesn’t make sense. One, you slept in later than you usually do, but also it’s so dark you can only make out the outline of the furniture around you. That’s when you notice a weather alert notification. There’s a storm right above you, and not the standard summer thunderstorm. It seems like a tropical storm is heading straight your way, flood and strong wind warnings popping up alongside the other alert. It’s set to arrive within the next few hours, so you get yourself out of bed to prepare for it.

As soon as you step outside you already feel the fierce winds, they’re so strong your clothes are whipping around you, your thin pajamas pressing to your skin as you carry Koi’s breakfast in his little bowl outside. But he’s nowhere to be seen. Fear spikes in your chest, a particularly strong gust of wind snatching the lip of the bowl and forcing you to lose your grip. This can’t just be the beginnings of the storm. You refuse to believe it as thin sheets of rain start to fall. It’s only been an hour since you received that warning and yet the rain is here, the winds are frightening, and Koi is not where he always is.

He’s not waiting for you in front of the glass door, nor is he at the bottom of the patio steps where he sometimes lounges. You’re panicking, your heart in your throat and you’re choking on it. Where could he be in a time like this? You rush down the few steps leading to the beach, your hand gripping at the railing so you don’t lose your balance. The sand sticks to your exposed feet, your eyes scanning the beach as you rush over to the beach grass that has only grown since you arrived.

“Koi!” You scream over the whistling wind, attempting to make kissy noises in order to let him know you’re there. You’re crumbling, somehow this is the last straw for you. You keep screaming for him, yelling his name over and over until your voice feels raw.

“Get inside,” Shouta yells from the top of the steps, you can hardly hear him over the intensity of the rising winds. The waves are crashing harder against the shore and everything is just so loud you can’t even hear yourself think.

“I have to find Koi.” Your voice tremors, lightning cracks in the distance and thunder follows a few seconds later. It’s getting closer and your time is running out.

“You have to come inside, it’s pouring,” he says, descending the stairs two at a time until his feet meet the sand. He doesn’t move closer to you though, he stays a few feet away and it hurts. Even worse than it ever has before seeing him so far away from you. “It’s only going to get worse.”

You feel crazed, your hair flat against your face and neck and your clothes are drenched and see through. Why is he so far away?

“You don’t think I know that!” Your voice comes from the top of your lungs, stealing you of any breath you had left as you shriek at your husband. “Why do you think I’m standing out here trying to get him to come inside?”

“He’s going to be okay.” His reassurance is anything but that. His reassurance is swallowed by the torment of nature and it’s only begun to boil over. The loneliness, the desperation, the fact that he won’t fucking touch you.

“And what if he’s not?” Your voice cracks, your head is full, and you're aching all over. “What if I spent all this time just for nothing to be okay?!”

The step he was in the middle of taking towards you stops. Is that really where his effort ends? Feet away as you’re screeching at him to be near you. “I need you to come inside.”

The waves are more violent than they were before. You’re unsteady where you stand and you don’t know if your brutal onslaught of emotions are to blame or the rain slashing diagonally and shattering your equilibrium. “I need to try. I can’t lose an-,”

Anyone else. Not like you’re losing Shouta. It’s too much.

“Koi!” Your voice is being drowned out by deafening noises. You’ve gotten so used to quiet that you’re overstimulated, your thoughts are fragmented and all over the place. So chaotic that the storm is just the soundtrack to your misery.

“Koi!”

“Get inside the house! You’re being ridiculous!” He snaps, anger evident and there’s two full steps towards you. But you take two away.

“No! I won’t,” you sob, hands coming up to grab at your hair as it clumps together with the water it’s absorbing. “Don’t act like you care about where I am all of a sudden!”

Emotion. Emotion. Stupid fucking emotions curdling like spoiled milk inside of you. Rotten and old and undesirable.

“Are you-?” He cuts himself off, taking two more steps toward you. Another two steps back. “You don’t think I care about you?”

No. You don’t think that. But you feel it sometimes. Feel that sickening feeling slither in every time you wake up alone. Every time you eat dinner by yourself in the dark. Every time you take two steps towards him and he leaves the fucking room.

“You don’t even touch me,” you gasp out, your hands moving to clutch your chest and you try to regain your breathing. “Why?”

Lightning strikes. The sand scatters. And the hair on your arms stands up.

Thunder shakes the ground. The patio wood creaks like it’s about to tear off the side of the house. Too much. And you’re losing all control.

“Because I-,” he’s thinking and he’s hesitating. And you’re so angry. “I can’t.”

“But, why, Shouta? Why can’t you?”

“Because then you’ll know!” He lashes out, arms spread wide and his shirt is soaked through and sticking to him. “You’ll know everything. All the shit I’m not ready to tell anyone because it’s so fucked I don’t even want to deal with it!”

Water is in your eyes, dripping onto your lips. And you faintly taste salt on your tongue.

“And you have this ability to know even the deepest parts of me and that’s terrifying.” The distance is closing at a rapid pace. Your feet are moving and you can’t keep up. Not until feet turn into inches and he’s right in front of you.

“Then turn it off, Shouta,” you’re begging him to give you something. Anything at all. “Turn it off like only you can, please, just-”

You’re shaking, your body freezing because of the rain and the wind and the frigidity of yearning desperation. “Just touch me.”

He reaches for you, his hand hovering over your cheek and you could almost feel it. The warmth of his palm, “you don’t have to be terrified of me.”

His fingers graze your cheek and you close your eyes. Only for it to be ripped away when distressed yowling cuts through everything. You whip your head around and see Koi, tail between his legs and fur so wet it makes him look skinny and underfed. A hysterical laugh of relief releases from your chest and you’re running towards him. You wrap your hands around his little body and he lets you hold him to your chest as you whisper soothing words into his flicking ear.

Shouta’s waiting for you by the steps, right where you left him. “Can we go inside now?”

And you nod, rushing up the steps in quick succession. The ground quakes when thunder rumbles and Shouta is reaching around you to slide the door open for you. It’s even colder inside, the fan dispersing cool air that pricks your wet skin. You release Koi and even though he’s never been inside he darts beneath the dining room table to hide.

The door shuts behind you, the lock clicking into place. The quiet is back. And it’s haunting.

“It never ends. The pain. The thinking. The what ifs. They don’t stop.” He’s filling it with words that you’ve been dying for him to say since the beginning. They’re not nice to hear. But it’s the only way either of you are going to heal. “And I never wanted to burden you with that. You deserve better than this version of me. You deserve more than that.”

“What if that’s not what I want? Did you ever stop and think that I just want you. Whatever version of you that you’ll give me, I’ll have, Shouta.”

He shakes his head like he disagrees. Water taps against the hardwood. Ticking like a metronome.

“But-”

“I love you. I’m in love with you,” you raise your hands up to hover by his cheeks, still not sure if he gives you permission to touch him in the way that you so badly want. “And if you let me in, we don’t have to be these versions of ourselves alone.”

His hands are grasping your wrists in a firm hold. So tightly it nearly hurts, but you are so shocked by the gesture your knees go weak and you gasp. He guides your reaching hands to his face and he presses them onto his cheeks like he depended on it. The breath expelling from his body like he’s been holding it in for centuries.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his lip quivering before he sucks it into his mouth. “I can’t seem to get anything together anymore. I try but I only feel like I’m disappointing you. I’m so tired of disappointing you.”

“It’s okay. I’m here,” you’re saying it to not only convince him but yourself. That this is happening. That you are really touching him, palm to cheek. “I’m sorry. For not fighting for you the way that I should’ve been. For getting in my own way. I’m sorry.”

He’s dropping his forehead to yours, his hands traveling up your wrists to cup where yours are caressing his face.

“We can fix this?” He’s whispering across your lips.

“Yeah,” you give him a watery smile, “we can.”

Sparks are flying behind your eyelids when he kisses you. The house shakes again from another wave of thunder but you can’t even register the ground beneath your feet because he’s kissing you. Kissing you like he needs you, wants you, loves you.

It’s like the first one all over again. The butterflies in your stomach giving the storm outside a run for its money. You can’t breathe, he’s stealing each one greedily for himself, but you can’t stop. Not even when the urge to inhale is making you lightheaded.

He’s walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the arm of the couch and you’re sitting on it. And even then he doesn’t break the kiss. Just as desperate to keep it going as you are. Your hands are still pinned to his cheeks by his large palms. But you pull at them so you can touch him elsewhere, wanting to feel every inch of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He releases them, but only to trail his fingers down your arms and up to your neck. He’s gentle, even though the kiss is so forceful. He’s touching you as if he’s practicing a language he hasn’t spoken in too long. Relearning all of the basics first until he’s confident enough to move forward. He’s writing sentences down your spine, reading your reactions as if he hadn’t known these words all along.

His fingers find the edge of your top, the fabric grossly wet on your sides as he starts pulling the fabric up and over your head. “You’re soaked,” he says aloud, the shirt ten times heavier in his palm.

“Haven’t heard that in a while,” you breathe with a teasing sigh as the shirt makes a thwapping sound onto the floor over his shoulder.

“Funny,” he smirks the tiniest bit, finally pulling back from your lips to admire your naked torso. His fingertips are dancing up your curves, ghosting over the goosebumps he’s lighting your body up with. He stops just below your breasts, your nipples already pebbled from the cold. He looks into your eyes seeking permission. The same permission you’ve already granted him.

“Please don’t stop touching me,” you plead, bracing your hands against his pelvic bone to steady your swaying body. He moves again, this time to cup your breasts in each of his palms and he squeezes. Not too tightly, but enough to have you arching into him and sighing.

You busy yourself with his white t-shirt, slipping your hands beneath it to feel his firm abdomen against your hands and gathering the wet fabric on your wrists. You almost forgot how perfect he felt beneath your hands. Almost forgot that he seemed to be carved out just for you to explore. You can tell he’s trying to be patient with you, but you’ve spent months holding back and your patience has long ago thinned into nothing. You use some of your strength to push him away to give you enough room to stand. You’re tugging his shirt over his head as he protests with a laugh, but you can’t stop yourself. Too eager to control much of your actions as you undress him.

“Hold on,” he’s grabbing your wrists again to stop you from pulling down the waistband of his pants. “Let me do it.”

“You’re taking too long,” you admit, realizing that your breathing is ragged and your vision tunneled.

“Am I?” He asks, voice dipping into amused condescension.

“Yes,” you say with finality, your hands still restricted by his.

“Fine.” And he’s lifting you by the back of your thighs and dropping you onto the couch cushions. Shouta grips your drenched shorts and pulls them down your legs and you’re now completely naked before him, legs parted and more vulnerable than you’ve been in forever. His fingers are slow again when they map their way across your body. Intent on making you squirm.

You’re dying to rush him, to hurry this along in some capacity. But you don’t because this feels too good to let go to waste. Your eyes flutter closed and you imagine each of his touches like a burst of neon color in the dark. His fingers are on your inner thighs now, and you almost close them around his hand. An odd shyness coming over you. You expect his fingers to continue their route to your core. You’re already prepared to feel the roughness of his fingertips part your folds, but instead what you feel isn’t rough or dry. But soft and wet.

“Oh,” you gasp as your eyes shoot open. His head is between your thighs, and his eyes are now closed as a groan rumbles through his chest and straight against you. “Fuck.”

His tongue works through you, licking and tasting and appreciating. He’s so focused, but not on the building pleasure in your body. He’s selfishly taking, ripping whines from your mouth and exchanging them for moans of his own. Your hands find their way into his hair and you tug him closer to you. His mouth is enveloping you, and when his lips find your clit he’s sucking it into his mouth with urgency.

It’s been too long without having him this way. So long that your abdomen is tensing and your legs are tightening around his head. He doesn’t stop sucking and licking and moaning. The vibrations staggering up to your head and sending you into a lust-fueled spiral. You roll your hips down against his face, hard and stuttering. Your head falls back against the couch with a soft thud and you whimper when he flattens his tongue and allows you to use him.

You’re kissing the cusp of your release, toeing the tightrope of your orgasm. “Shouta, m’gonna-”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your grip tightens in his hair. You don’t want to, though. Not yet. You want to be full when you do. You want to draw out this pleasurable in between space for as long as you possibly can. “St-stop,” you almost regret it when he pulls away immediately. His eyes full of concern as he stares up at you.

“Are you okay?” He’s rising to his knees, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your thighs as you yearn for the edge of the cliff you were just about to fall off of.

“Yes, I’m okay,” you say, breathless and needy. “I just want to feel you.”

You shove him lightly, rearranging your bodies so that he’s sitting down and you’re straddling his hips. He lifts them to push down his sweats, struggling when they cling to his legs, but settling once they fall around his ankles. You grab his cock in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft as you pump him a few times. His head is bright red, precum smeared across the tip and glistening in the fractures of grey light filtering in from the curtains.

His head rests on the back of the couch, his cheeks red from arousal and he's holding your hips in a vice grip. His moans are caught in his throat and his eyes are open just enough to watch you line him up with your entrance. You want him, but this feels somewhat new. Like you’re starting over from the beginning. Fresh and new and expectant.

You sink onto him, shuddering at the burning stretch he’s causing. There’s a pause halfway down, a moment for you to adjust and he’s squeezing your hips tighter. His nails digging into your skin and almost piercing flesh.

“God, I missed you,” he says through clenched teeth, shallowly thrusting upwards until you place your hands on his chest to keep you from falling into him. You drop down suddenly, taking all of him inside of you in one go. “Holy shit,” his voice is gravelly and hoarse. And you thought you were close before, but you’re face to face with an intense pleasure now that you’re afraid might be too strong. Too big. Too consuming.

“Shouta.” It’s broken and needy, and your hips grind down when the sticky clinginess of your tone echoes.

“Don’t say my name like that or I won’t last,” he whispers. And it sounds so dirty. So filthy that when your clit catches the hair at the bottom of his shaft it throbs deep in your belly. You’re bouncing in his lap, leaning forward so you’re chest to chest and breathing in the air that he releases in heavy puffs. It’s not real, this tormenting lust and unwavering love. It’s hard to believe that this is real and that your husband is in your arms.

One of his hands rises to the back of your neck, cradling it as his fingers wrap around to apply pressure to your pulse points. Your head is fuzzy, your limbs filling with white noise as you continue fucking yourself on his cock.

“Do me a favor.” It’s not much of a suggestion, there’s very little room for choice in his statement as he squeezes his hand again and he groans roughly when you clench around him in response.

“W-what?” You stutter, hands now holding onto his broad shoulders for stability as you wait for what he needs. Ready to give him– mind, body, and soul– whatever he asks for. “Come.”

Your vision whites out, ears narrowing in on the command, and you couldn’t refuse him even if it was the only thing you wanted to do. You shatter. The pieces of your physical consciousness dispersing into dust around the two of you as you do exactly as he says. You fall forward, no longer able to hold yourself up. You bury your face into his neck and breathe in his scent through sighs of satisfaction.

Your walls pulse around him as he starts thrusting to make up for you. They’re short and harsh and you wrap your arms around his neck to keep from jostling around too much. He’s close enough for you to feel it. His dick kicks inside of you when you clamp down especially tight. “Shit,” he hisses out, hugging you against him when he comes. Both of his strong arms around your waist and your senses are saturated in his smell and build. If this is where you could choose to be for a lifetime, including all the moments that have culminated until now. You’d choose it a million times over.

His fingers trace your spine again, drawing tiny figures down each vertebrae. There’s the sneaking silence that seems to always wiggle its way into your relationship tickling the edges of your moment. But it’s not like the others. It’s not intrusive or unwanted. It’s like a warm blanket, thick and cozy and familiar.

“You wanna take a bath?” You say into his neck, your lips brushing the sensitive skin of his collarbone and he shivers.

“I’d like that,” he replies, hands dragging down your sides in an intimate embrace. You sit up, body sluggish and heavy. There’s an odd soreness in your hips that you like, a pleasing ache in your bones that only serves as a reminder of what you’d done together. He helps you up when he sees the little grimace on your face. Kisses your jaw when you flinch as he pulls out. “Come on then.”

He’s settling you onto your feet, using the leverage he has on your thighs to follow you. The storm is still monstrous outside, the house built to withstand weather like this. The foundation is solid. Built on healthy ground and rooted into place. When you enter the bathroom, you flick the light switch on, but nothing happens. The bathroom remains dark, only lit up by the window beside the porcelain tub.

“Seems like the lights went out,” you say, heading towards the bath to twist the nozzle onto its hottest temperature. The water fills it in a thick stream, steam quickly curling around the metal faucet.

“I’ll be back,” Shouta says, and before you could ask where he’s off to, he’s already gone. You twist the other nozzle to cool down the too hot water. Warmth meeting your fingertips as you sway them in the water. You’re more relaxed than you have been in ages. Your shoulders are not as heavy, and the cracks in your heart seem to be mending, even if bruises still remain.

“Here,” he interrupts, arms full of every candle he could find and a lighter dangling between two fingers.

“Where’d you get those from?” You laugh, standing up to grab some of the candles from his hold and placing them along the windowsill.

“In the guest bathroom,” he smiles, setting the rest on the counter top as he lights them one at a time. You stare at his reflection in the mirror, his hair is partially dry but frizzing in the places that were rubbing against the texture of the sofa. The facial hair that he’s prone to keeping closely cropped to his face is a bit grown out now. And you can’t stop yourself from appreciating him until you glance at the tub and notice that the water is dangerously close to the edge. You hurry to shut it off, the water hot but not unbearable.

You stand beside it to wait for him, eyes never leaving his form as he comes your way to light the other candles. When he’s done he rests the lighter on the windowsill beside the last candle. And when he faces you, it’s with teasing amusement. “Are you gonna get in?”

“After you.” You gesture to the tub invitingly with a smile. His expression turns suspicious but he steps over the lip of the tub anyway, eyes on yours and with trained agility. He melts into the water with a low groan, and it’s safe to assume that the temperature is just right. He scoots all the way to make room for you in front of him, but you shake your head no. Instead you tap on his shoulder and urge him forward with tender hands. He’s confused, but follows your lead.

The water is really nice, the soreness in your muscles soothed almost upon impact as you slip in behind Shouta and frame your legs on either side of him. You cup some water in your hands to rewet his hair, wracking your fingers through it to get out any tangles that developed. The yellow glow of the tiny fires create dancing shadows around the bathroom, basking him in a pretty orange. You get him to recline into your arms, sliding his body low enough so that his head rests right on the curve beneath your shoulder.

This is one of those moments forever is always talking about. One that supersedes the concept of time and hangs it there until you’re ready to snatch it up and store it in your memory bank. Somehow, your breathing patterns have synced up and you cuddle him into you with such force you’re convinced he’d disappear. He wheezes out a chuckle when your hands press into his sternum and hug him tighter. A subtle sign to loosen your grip.

“I don’t know where to start.” His hands are back on your thigh, closing them around his torso as he speaks. His fingers are kneading the fat there as he thinks.

“What do you mean?” You drag your nails softly though his chest hair, hoping it serves as wordless encouragement.

“I mean,” he pauses, finger still massaging you, “there’s so much I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to.”

“You could start at the beginning.” You sketch little figure eights as you speak, his body dissolving even more into your embrace. His weight should be too much for you, but you’re positive that you could crawl inside of him and still feel like it wasn’t close enough.

“That’s the problem,” he mutters, head lulling to the side so that his ear is flat against your heartbeat. “Which one?”

Your hand stops what it’s doing, instead you open your hand, palm down as you find his heartbeat. You don’t need your quirk to understand his feelings. You don’t need to rely on it to trust that he will tell you everything that he wants in due time. You rest your cheek gingerly on the top of his head, counting each of his heartbeats and catching them in your hand. You’ll cherish each one. Keep them tucked away safely in a lock only he has the key to, and giving them back to him every time he needs it. To remind him that even when he’s not committed to himself. You always will be.

“Well,” you kiss the top of his head, “we have the rest of our lives, so start at the beginning of yours.”

#mybigbangacademia #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa fanfic #shouta aizawa angst #shouta aizawa smut #bnha fanfic #bnha smut #kari’s writing🔆

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cherryo · 1 year

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Heyyy! First time for a request. Was wondering if you could do a reader X Rise!tmnt (or any Tmnt <3) relationship and reader is caught simping for someone (like a character ex: aizawa from MHA or Sam from Spn (supernatural)) if requests are closed or u think this doesn’t have much the TMNT Bois can be jealous 💕💕💕

This is cute 🫣 I went with rise boys but might come back later with the 2012 boys 🫶

Rise!boys getting jealous over fictional crushes hc <33

Warnings: boys get jealous lol

Word count: 2.6k

Raph:

He was just coming over to visit you and heard you giggling

He peaked around to see Jotaro Kujo on the screen

He thought it was cute, no harm in fangirling over characters

I mean he does it too

Although youre not totally off the hook, he teases you all the time about it

“If i stand like Jotaro did would you fangirl over me?”

Does the ‘ora ora’ and Jotaro’s other iconic phrases

I personally feel him and mikey are the most secure in their relationships, the only “insecurity” Raph has is his strength, but thats really just a worry

He loves that you still feel comfortable to admit you have small moments like that <333

Leo:

You two were watching Inside Job, Brett came on the screen and you turned red and giggled a little

He looked at you wondering wtf you were doing and you just shrugged and said you thought he was cute

Was confused, if you have him why do you need to have crushes?

Why did you still fangirl over characters :((

Hes probably the most insecure, he canonly has a ‘cool guy’ facade so he’s probably not too into you fangirling

He gets over his little thing, it takes a second and you agree to stop making it so obvious, he doesnt want you to stop because he doesnt want to control you

He realizes that it’s normal and common and that he even has some celeb/chara crushes, even if he has you

Also teases you, hard lol but he loves you and if you liked the weird dude from inside job then he’s okay with it

He would fr get Bretts apron even if he doesnt bake/cook LMAO

Mikey

HE THINKS ITS SO CUTE

Again him and raph are the most secure, so he legit doesnt care

Wouldnt tease you as much as his other brothers would, but he would still tease you

He would try to catch you watching it alone and would send you memes or posts on social media relating to said character/ celebs

Would definitely want to see the appeal, and he would def be open about his crushes <3

Donnie:

I think he would be much like leo, in a sense he doesn't understand why you need fictional characters to gush over when you have him

You definitely bring up Atomic Lass and he finally gets it, he knows how he acts when she's mentioned

At first though he would definitely say it's not the same, too stubborn to admit he was feeling jealous and was being hypocritical

Needs time and mostly doesnt want to hear about it

Slowly comes through though, he realizes that it's normal and wants to be able to talk to you about it

So if you go to comic con or another convention you'll both be taking photos of respective fictional crush cosplayers

#chasewrites #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rise raph #rise mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rise donnie #rise leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo

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queenofallimagines · 9 months

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Me again! I'm a whore for good black reader blogs ok. I was thinking about Aizawa lowkey being so goddamn confused when he sees y/n busting a move as if she's at a country club with her loud ass friends, but at the same time I wanna have Aizawa being dommed and overstimulated by Y/N. (Same goes for Mammon high-key but at least he knows what We're doing when we are dancing)

YOURE LITERALLY SO RIGHT LMAOO imagine him seeing you bust out your city girls shit and he’s like???? Hello??😭 nothing is more fun that doing hoodrat stuff w your friends so he’s like how were you so well behaved yesterday but now your on top of tables twerking singing ice spice💀💀 RIP for aizawa fr bc he don’t know it’s “drunk and nasty” time when you pull him by his shirt and tie his hands to the bed frame w his tie. Like he’s gon be shell shocked and come to work tomorrow like okay so your just a succubus bc what was THAT now your back to business professional. If you throw it back he will just barely catch it

#my hero academia aizawa #bnha x black!reader #x black reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shōta #eraserdilf💤#jackie.txt

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sleepyrouge · 2 years

Text

love not given lightly

description: things are amiss and women are missing in your rainy, secluded hometown and all fingers seem to point to resident recluse, mr. aizawa. not heeding the warnings of the townspeople, you take up a job as an assistant on his estate.

word count: 6.3k

fic title: venus in furs by the velvet underground (shit slaps fr)

author's note: lowkey this was inspired by int*rview w*th t*e vamp*re but in vibes only. no characters are actually vampires lmao but that's all i'll say. also lost steam for writing this about 2k words in but i stuck with it and finished it (for better or for worse lol) so that has to count for something, right?

pairing: shouta aizawa x reader

content warnings: dubcon, manipulation, implied voyeurism, cheating, oral (m receiving, face fucking), spanking, namecalling, degradation, dom!shouta (ish), reader is in their early 20s, afab!pronouns, creampie, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, very dark content (18+/mdni/ageless blogs dni!!!!)

it’s an overcast day in may of 1822. you stand outside of mr. yagi’s general store. there’s a crinkled paper notice calling for help wanted at the aizawa estate on the community news board. you had always heard funny little things about mr. aizawa-how he had blown into town years ago and bought the property he resided on for cash. he was rarely seen about town and when he did happen to venture around, he was always followed by whispers about disappeared women. most recently, it was mr. yagi’s own daughter mina who had gone to work for him never to be seen again. that was last month and there wasn’t a single trace of evidence pointing to her whereabouts. it wasn’t entirely unheard of-girls ending up in the family way and needing to disappear until the matter was handled, but the girls, three of which you knew of now, never seemed to show back up. oh well. it was no matter to you and you needed the money and employment more than you cared about the gossip.

the very next day, dressed in your best outfit and hair pinned primly out of your face, you set out on foot to the aizawa estate. it lay across the small town on the outskirts and thanks to recent rain, there was a respectable layer of mud coating everything. the aizawa house sat in a grove of thick trees blanketed in spanish moss. tepid drops of rain coursed down your cheeks and nose from the moss and you brushed them away with your free hand that wasn’t carrying your suitcase. it was fairly presumptuous of you to come laden with your belongings to a simple job interview, but you figured that mr. aizawa was looking for a live-in assistant after all, and with the way he went through applicants, he wouldn’t have much choice but to accept your bid for employment. you were fairly certain that you could do a better job than the others. how hard could it be to keep one reclusive man’s affairs in order and satisfied?

you ascended the porch steps to the heavy, dark oak door, and pounded on it twice with the brass door-knocker shaped like an owl. not at all peculiar so far. you set your suitcase down beside you on the porch and wiped your sweaty hands off on the skirt of your dress. you heard no commotion beyond the door. maybe the house was so big that sound didn’t carry very well. as you were reaching to swing the door-knocker a third time, the door quietly swung open. the sight before you revealed a foyer with a high ceiling lit dimly by a multitude of candles. you saw no one until you went to take a step inside and were startled out of your wits by a tall blonde man with a prim mustache. certainly, this would be mr. aizawa and you could inquire about the job.

“who are you?” he had a voice that seemed not to match his appearance.

“i’m here about the job opening.” you tried to make your voice sound as amenable as possible.

“ah,” the man shook his head as if he had forgotten that he himself had hung the sign requesting an employee not two days before. “right this way to the parlor. i’ll bring mr. aizawa along shortly.” so this fair-headed man wasn’t aizawa after all. nothing peculiar. it would make sense that a man of mr. aizawa’s supposed wealth and status would have a butler.

you stepped into the house and immediately shivered, cold air going straight through the thin material of your dress. despite the temperature being moderate and lightly humid outside, it felt frigid within the confines of the house. in addition, it looked as if life hadn’t been breathed into the place in years. upon further inspection, whisps of cobwebs and fingers of dust hung from the corners and on the candleholders. you would have your work cut out for you. a glimmer of hope sighted inside your chest. this would be how you would prove your worth-by whipping the house into a well-oiled machine and turning it into the glorious attraction that you knew it had the potential to be. grinning, you followed the butler to the parlor.

once inside the parlor, the butler turned back to you and motioned for you to sit on a green velvet settee that looked mostly devoid of dust. it was fleetingly strange to you that the only two objects in this room not covered in half an inch of dust was the grand writing desk across the room and the settee. rationally, you figured that mr. aizawa must be such a hard-working man that he didn’t have time to get much use of his furniture aside from the desk and settee. working and napping were things that upstanding gentlemen should be concerned with, in any case. there was certainly nothing wrong with that.

“i’ll bring mr. aizawa by shortly.” he bowed to you and took his leave. you smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress and sat, ankles tucked behind each other, on the couch. you stifled a sneeze. silently, you wondered if the previous jobholders were just that bad and that was why they weren’t around any longer. you felt a small sense of pride knowing that you could do better than them.

the candles in the room flittered as the air was disrupted by the door across the room opening. you stood, readying yourself to make your introduction to mr. aizawa. as he stepped into the room, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. now, you had never seen mr. aizawa. you had only heard the titters coming from hushed conversations about him around town. you had expected a portly old man or even someone who’s countenance gave way for such harsh rumors. you weren’t expecting a tall man. certainly not one with tantalizingly unruly black hair and tired eyes and fine muscles that you could just make out underneath the white shirt and smart black vest he was wearing. there was a scar just under his cheek. it gave you pause. heat rushed to your cheeks.

“i suppose you’re here about the job.” he asked nonchalantly, taking no note of how your breath faltered.

“i-i am.” you stuttered out after a moment. this was ridiculous. you weren’t foreign to the touch of a man and now here you were, trying to gain employment that you so desperately needed and unable to find your tongue. “my name is-”

“i don’t rightly care what your name is, yeah?” your eyes snap to his. his voice isn’t harsh, but there’s something about it just below the surface that you can’t quite put your finger on. it startles you to silence. “can you cook?” a nod of your head. “can you clean?” another nod. “can you read and fill out paperwork?” one last nod. “then i see no reason why you shouldn’t have the job.” you have no time to celebrate your small victory before mr. aizawa is turning to leave again. “mr. yamada, show the girl to her room.” he speaks to the butler easily before he is gone from the room again. you let out a heavy sigh.

in the proceeding weeks, it is relatively easy to settle into working at the estate. you handle the cleaning and cooking for mr. aizawa and assist his butler, mr. yamada, with tasks around the grounds. in the unobtrusive silence between tasks, it is revealed to you that mr. yamada has quite a dry sense of humor and it helps to while away the hours. mr. yamada easily sets the routine for your work and the rules that you must adhere to and you follow them without dalliance. you even take it upon yourself to create new tasks, recommending errands for yourself that make mr. yamada lift his wheat-colored eyebrows in surprise. it must have been so hard for them to find good help. since the start of your tenure, there hasn’t been a bit of silver unpolished or a bookshelf left undusted. even with the ever-present dim candlelight in the house, the estate is starting to resemble more of a home than a mausoleum. you aren’t sure how mr. aizawa feels about your work, but you’re still employed, so you figure that has to account for something.

mr. aizawa is a completely different creature from mr. yamada. he is a bit off-beat, opting to spend most of his time in his study that you are forbidden from entering. it had a myriad of locks on the outside so you couldn’t enter even if you felt compelled to. this banishment makes no matter to you since aside from the duties you are responsible for, you have free reign of the grounds. when it isn’t raining, you work on tending the garden and growing vegetables. the back garden is surrounded by a high gray stone wall that’s covered in ivy. you set your tomato plants there and they do well with the added support. you add your spoils into the dishes you cook occasionally and those are the times you silently look forward to because something akin to the ghost of a smile finds its way onto mr. aizawa’s face. if he weren’t so heavy, he would be quite handsome. sometimes, before falling asleep, you would lay in bed and try to imagine him without the air of mystery around him. to be certain, mr. aizawa is a bit odd, but you figure it’s just as good to leave well-enough alone and not enquire as to what he does all day in his study.

once a week, you set off early in the morning into town with a small allowance that mr. yamada gives you for groceries for the estate. you carry a small basket that by the end of the trip, will be bursting with rice and beans and fresh greens and the special tea that mr. aizawa always requests. orange pekoe. orange pekoe in a special brand that you had never heard of before. you aren’t exactly sure why it holds so much importance, but you purchase it and bring it home just the same.

you always shop at the general store closest to the estate, just on the edge of town. it isn’t as nice as mr. yagi’s establishment that you were used to patronizing before going to work at mr. aizawa’s, but the shorter trek had its advantages. that morning, you set out with a small umbrella covering your head. yesterday, you had washed your hair and set your hair into curls with little strips of ribbon you had hidden away in the bottom of your suitcase. it was an indulgence for housework, sure, but always on the same day that you went for groceries, that night, the local boy from the stockyards that you’d been seeing would sneak in through the garden to see you. there isn’t much to him and you aren’t entirely sure if you even like him all that much, but there’s something nice about having a solid connection to town still. even though you swear you can feel a pair of eyes watching from a window as he presses your back into the cool surface of the garden wall, he’s a link to the life you knew that you cherish.

you entered the general store and nodded to the shopkeeper. she was an older lady and she always gave you the best deal on collard greens. they were something you hadn’t quite mastered how to grow in your own garden yet. you went around and collected the goods that you needed, no longer needing a list because you had it committed to memory. you filled your basket with the dry goods and took it over to the counter to pick up your customary tin of orange pekoe tea. the old lady started peering into your basket and punching numbers into her register before she spoke.

“we’re out of your tea, darlin’,” raspy voice. she wasn’t at all bothered about your, or rather, mr. aizawa’s tea, being out of stock. you felt a surge of annoyance at her nonchalance.

“do you know why?” your foot tapped impatiently against the wooden boards of the floor.

“not many people buyin’ it anymore. no reason for us to sell it if it’s just you buyin’ it.” the old lady stopped tapping on the register and looked up at you. “you might try mr. yagi’s store across town. he has a bigger demand for those types of things.”

“mr. yagi’s?” your blood runs cold at the suggestion as you hand the old lady the exact change for your bill. you hadn’t shopped at mr. yagi’s since going to work for mr. aizawa and you’d rather spend the night alone in the swamp than darken his door after working for mr. aizawa knowing that was where mina was when she vanished. still, you had a duty to fulfill. you didn’t want your place on the estate to be jeopardized simply because you couldn’t rise above silly feelings.

“mr. yagi’s.” the old lady nodded her head in agreeance and slid your basket back across the counter to you. you nodded your head in thanks and set off out the door to the other general store.

you took the scenic route through town, going by the shipping docks where you knew your boyfriend was working. you could hear the yelling and bleating of the gulls before the docks came into view properly and you wondered if you would be able to discern your man from all of the other vaguely disheveled men bustling around. young men of his age working their early adult life away tended to always look the same to you. you couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or if you craved it. deep, deep inside of your heart, you knew that instead of youth and playfulness, you craved someone with stature like mr. aizawa’s. maybe even mr. aizawa himself, but you were sure that would send you on the short road to unemployment if you were to ever act on it.

it wasn’t long into your journey past the docks that a head of black hair swooped in next to you.

“i thought i wasn’t going to see you until tonight.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you at the insinuation.

“you know tuesdays are my shopping days, sero.”

“yeah, i just never see you this far into town anymore.” he’s pulling a black bandana out of his pocket and wiping the sweat off of his forehead. you keep staring ahead, only stealing glances at him through the corner of your eye.

“the usual store was out of the tea mr. aizawa drinks. i have to go to mr. yagi’s from now on to get it.”

“oh, he has a special tea? what a pussy.” sero pushes the bandana into the back pocket of his pants and swings a dirty arm across your shoulder. you fight the urge to push it off.

“he’s not a pussy, he’s just a man that knows what he wants.” you don’t know why you’re defending mr. aizawa, but the sentence comes out before you can stop it. sero holds his hands up in mock defense.

“hey, far be it for me to make fun of that creepy old man. for all i know, he’ll kidnap me.” sero laughs and you roll your eyes.

“he didn’t have anything to do with those disappearances,” you defend but even so, in the back of your mind, you wonder.

“you know what i think?” sero stops walking in the middle of the dock walkway and you squeeze closer to him to get out of the way of the workers hustling by. “i think you like working for the old man. makes you feel like you’re playing house or something, huh? all the way out there in that big old mansion with nothing to do but cook and clean and play housewife?” you don’t like the way that you’re physically unable to meet sero’s gaze. you miss the way that he finally grins down at you and swings his arms around your neck. “i’ll make you a pretty little housewife soon enough, huh? a nice little housewife with a nice little house and little ones coming out of the seams. how does that sound to you?”

you smile up at sero for his own sake. maybe you wanted that at one point. maybe you still do, but you had a job to do right now and he was getting in the way of that. you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him on the side of the mouth.

“that sounds perfect, sero.” you paint a grin on your face to match his and he squeezes you into a hug as his foreman calls him back to work.

“i’ll see you tonight.” he whispers at you over the bustle of the docks and he’s running off, back toward another ship that needs unloading. you take a deep breath and start walking again. you try to clear your head of all the conflicting thoughts in your head. you needed to get a grip on things or you were really going to be in a bind. one thing was for certain, however, and you wouldn’t let yourself end up like mina and the other girls no matter how they vanished, so you steeled your nerves and made your way finally to mr. yagi’s.

the interaction with mr. yagi wasn’t bad, per se, but it was soul-crushing. the man looked gaunt and unwell, not at all like the brick wall of a man you could remember fondly from your childhood when you and mina would play together on the floor of his shop. it looked like it pained him to speak. when you walked into the small building, mr. yagi looked at you like he had seen a ghost and that was almost enough for you to turn on your heel and walk out just as quickly as you had entered. instead, you felt compelled by his state to stay and converse with him and that was when you had really started to feel like the dirt stuck to the bottom of your shoe. mr. yagi was broken and angry. angry at mr. aizawa for losing track of mina, for allowing something to happen to her without so much as a word of consolation. you could understand how that would enrage him, even as you hollowly tried to defend mr. aizawa. there was no saving his reputation in mr. yagi’s eyes.

to top it off, mr. yagi was out of mr. aizawa’s brand of orange pekoe as well, so you went with a different brand only because you thought it might have been rude at that point to leave without buying anything. as you walked home with your umbrella curled up in one hand and your basket of goods in the other, you wondered if it would have been better to just return to the estate empty-handed. you didn’t understand why your affairs had to be so complicated today. perhaps it was punishment for things being too easy lately.

you returned to the estate and entered the kitchen, placing your basket down on the counter and your wet umbrella by the back door leading to the garden. you started unpacking the groceries, placing the dry kidney beans in their designated jar and the long grain rice into a container in the pantry.

“how was shopping?” you jumped, not realizing mr. aizawa had entered the kitchen. you turned to face him and you balked at the obvious look of amusement on his face.

“it was good, yeah, really easy.” you rambled, trying to get your heart settled back to a normal rate. mr. aizawa had the sleeves of his work shirt rolled up around his elbows and his hair hung in a low bun. just past his shoulder, you could see the door of his study standing slightly ajar. there was a bit of a commotion from within as your gaze jerked up to meet his eyes.

“is everyone still the same?” he leaned easily against the kitchen wall as you turned to finish unpacking to give yourself something to do. there was something about his gaze that just cut right through you. your hand ghosted over the tin of incorrect tea and you tried to hide it behind your back. it caught mr. aizawa’s eye and he smiled at you disarmingly. you relaxed your arm by your side. you thought he might no be too upset with you as he stepped closer to you to inspect the tin in your hand. “this isn’t my tea, is it?” he questioned without waiting for your answer to the previous question.

“it’s the only orange pekoe i could find. i tried two stores and neither-” you were cut off by your lower back being pushed roughly into the counter and mr. aizawa slapping his palm over your mouth. your breath caught in your throat as he looked down menacingly at you. there it was, the depth of his eyes that always lurked just far enough under the surface that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. he was scary. he was scary and you felt a tingle in your stomach all the way down to your core.

“i didn’t ask you if you had trouble finding my tea or not. i asked you if this was my tea. is it?” he punctuated each word, fingers digging into the skin around your mouth. you nodded your head from side to side, not once breaking eye contact with him. you could hear the blood sloshing around in your ears.

“stupid, stupid girl. next time i ask you a question, answer what i ask of you. i don’t care for excuses.” his lips curl into a cruel smile as he removes his hand from your mouth. you hate the way him talking down to you excites you. he puts the tin down silently and turns to leave. you watch his broad back retreat into his study and hear the locks slide home. it is only then that you feel like you can breathe again.

in the months that you had worked for mr. aizawa, he had never spoken to you like that. he had always regarded you from afar and any pertinent communication went through mr. yamada. speaking of whom, you hadn’t seen since your departure to town this morning. you wondered if he was out hunting or repairing something on the far reaches of the property. it wasn’t like him to not haunt the house around the middle of the day. as you finished unpacking, you tried to keep your mind off of the whereabouts of mr. yamada and the way that mr. aizawa’s hand over your mouth made you want to rub your thighs together deliciously. it was sick, you thought, to enjoy someone, especially your boss, speaking to you with the same amount of venom in his voice as mr. aizawa had. to make yourself feel better, as you slid the incorrect tea into its correct home in the cabinet, you imagined your beloved boyfriend in the same place that mr. aizawa was. it didn’t have much of the desired effect, but it did make you feel marginally better.

to avoid any more potential conflicts, you spent the rest of your day out of sight and sewing in your board room. you counted time by the little pinpricks you felt on the tips of your fingers. pressing on the tiny, raw wounds of your skin helped to keep your mind from mr. aizawa and how you missed lunch and dinner.

when the sun finally set and the moon shone fully through the clouds, you silently opened your bedroom door and crept down the main hallway of the house dressed only in your white nightgown.

“where are you going at this hour?” mr. aizawa materialized from the shadows just in front of the door you used to sneak out to the garden in.

“i was just-” your voice was barely above a whisper. you crossed your arms over your chest to try and hide your indecent attire.

“going to fuck the boy climbing over the garden fence?” your face feels impossibly hot as mr. aizawa finishes your sentence for you.

“i-uh, he just visits me sometimes.” you stutter out, not quite sure how to save yourself from embarrassment. you’re looking down at your bare feet and praying that the floor might swallow you up. you’ll have no such luck, you realize, when you feel mr. aizawa’s thumb and forefinger pinching your chin harshly and pulling your face up until he’s nose to nose with you. he smells like sweet caramel and aftershave. you swallow hard and try to meet his eyes.

“poor girl, you’ll let anything between your thighs, won’t you?” his voice is soft now and you probably wouldn’t have heard mr. aizawa if he weren’t so close to you. your heart hammers more persistently in your chest.

“i don’t know what you mean.” you try to make sense of the conversation, of the moment, and it’s only now that you realized mr. aizawa had backed the two of you into his parlor and shut the door behind him. his grip and his gaze never faltered. he leaned in closer, lips almost, but not quite, grazing yours.

“you think i don’t know everything that happens in my house? you think i haven’t watched you scramble down to the garden every week and watch that boy fuck you so…pathetically? you really are stupid.” mr. aizawa taunted you as you felt your lower back press against the cool wood of his desk. you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. with his lips brushing against yours, it was easy to just kiss him. it was tentative and you were scared and you could tell that the fear was warranted when you pulled back and looked at the wolfish glint in his eyes. you were stupid. he laughed raucously in his chest and his hand that was holding your chin moved down to grip your throat. it wasn’t enough to prevent you from breathing, but the threat was there. his nose pressed into your cheek and you could feel his sweet breath fanning against your skin as he spoke again. “none of that now. none of that until you’ve at least apologized for getting the wrong tea.” you rubbed your thighs together and struggled against his grip. you couldn’t tell if you wanted to fuck mr. aizawa or run.

realizing this, mr. aizawa worked his leg in between your thighs until his knee was pressing right up against your core. his grip tightened on your throat and you ground your cunt down onto his knee. you let out a silent whine and tried to compose yourself.

“it’s time to apologize to me, yeah?” his eyes burned into yours as he pressed his leg more persistently against your core that was quickly, shamefully, becoming coated in slick.

“i’m sorry, mr. aizawa.”

the air in the room grew heavier, thicker. you weren’t sure how you were able to make the words come out of your mouth so perfectly. perhaps it was the prospect of fooling around with mr. aizawa. it wasn’t how you would have typically done things, but this could be better. he still had the same look on his face like he was the cat that got the canary. in the back of your mind, you still wondered where mr. yamada was.

“i don’t think you’re really that sorry.” he stepped away from you just far enough so that your bodies weren’t touching any longer.

“i am. i’m terribly sorry.” you pleaded, hoping that he would indulge you again.

“you’re not,” he grinned. “turn around and pull your dress up.” you thought all of the oxygen exited your body. mr. aizawa must have taken note of the look of panic that crossed your face. “go on, now.” he stood, watching you with his arms crossed. slowly, you broke eye contact with him and tried to regulate your breathing while you turned your back to him. painfully, you bent over until you gripped the hem of your nightgown in your perspiring palms and pulled up until your skin was exposed to the cool air of the room. you didn’t have time to register the embarrassment of not wearing panties before you felt one of mr. aizawa’s large hands on your back and pressing your chest down onto his desk. you let out a little grunt of disdain at the action but quickly bit it back when you could feel his hard length through his trousers. with one of his hands, he kneaded the fat of your ass briefly. abruptly, you felt a harsh swat against your ass. you yelped and jumped at the feel. mr. aizawa’s hand held you steady. it didn’t hurt so much as surprise you. you stayed quiet for a moment.

“did that hurt?” mr. aizawa asked as plainly as if he were asking you about the weather.

“n-no,” you stuttered out, not sure how to answer him now, but you were cut off by his hand striking you again. this time, it did hurt and your hands gripped the edge of his desk. the sensitive skin stung where his hand had made contact. without talking, he did it again, and again, and again. by the time you were sure that he was done, your skin was angry and raw and tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes. still, you rubbed your thighs together and silently pleaded for something more from mr. aizawa.

“are you sorry now?” he drawled, leaning over your body and caging you in. you winced just slightly when the rough fabric of his trousers met your sensitive skin.

“yes, mr. aizawa,” barely above a whisper. his arms circled around your waist and helped you stand up, pulling you flush against his chest for a moment. you reveled in the way his hard length pressed against your back. then, he was turning you around again and kissing you hard. it was warm and full of saliva and powerful as his tongue dove into your mouth. you were beginning to feel drunk. you didn’t know why everything felt like it was behind a layer of plastic.

“this is what you wanted, huh?” mr. aizawa pulled away from you and looked at you as if he were inspecting you. you nodded sheepishly and there was that devilish grin again. he led you over to the green settee that you sat on when you first came to ask about a job here. he pulled at the now-wrinkled hem of your nightgown up and over your head. you stood and shivered in the icy air of the parlor. you crossed your arms over your bare chest only to abruptly have them pulled away by mr. aizawa. his eyes roved up and down your body as he reached to undo the buckle of his belt. you could only watch with bated breath as his pants landed down around his ankles and he stroked his length a good few times. you tore your eyes away from his actions to look him in the eye. there was something there that set your stomach on edge now but the desire that you were feeling far outweighed that. your mouth hung open as you looked at him for what to do-where to go from here.

“get on your knees for me,” he ordered and you heeded his request without breaking eye contact with him. on some level, you still wanted to show him that you were sorry, as silly as it was. your bare knees dug into the deep nap of the carpet as you patiently watched mr. aizawa stroke the impressive length of his cock. yes, it was much more than you were used to after all. “now open your mouth,” he continued, coming to pull down your chin with the pad of his thumb. you sat there with your mouth wide open for a moment, just wondering what he could be thinking of. abruptly, the head of his cock was brushing against your tongue and journeying to the back of your throat. you coughed and choked when his length hit the back of your throat but instead of giving you reprieve, he steadied himself with his hand on the the back of your head and started an unthinkable pace that had crocodile tears leaking from your eyes incessantly and muffled gasps wafting their way up to mr. aizawa’s ears. you balled your hands into fists and tried to focus on the way that mr. aizawa was gazing down at you. there was a fondness there after all, you thought.

he kept up his bruising pace for a few minutes longer until his movements started to grow erratic and he pulled free of your mouth. the world was spinning from the little oxygen you were operating with and you reeled from side to side but you felt a sick sort of satisfaction at the way mr. aizawa was using you, the lesson he was teaching you. maybe, you thought, he would keep you around after all.

mr. aizawa held his hand out to you and you took it, allowing him to help you up and lie back on the settee. you took a deep breath and finally felt all of the slick that was coating your thighs. you widened your legs just a bit to alleviate the sticky sensation and mr. aizawa took that as his chance to lay himself down in the valley you created between your legs. his face came to hover right over yours as he caged you in with his arms. he wiped away a bit of saliva from the side of your face. you could feel his impossibly wet, and slippery, cock prodding against your entrance. god, how you wanted him, and to hell with everything else. absentmindedly, you reached a finger up to trace over the scar on his face and he swatted your hand away harshly before taking both of your hands in one of his and pinning your arms above your head.

swiftly, his cock was inside of you and you cried out at the stretch. there was too much, too much, and mr. aizawa was pounding away inside of you like he didn’t have a care in the world. you could feel him so deep in you that you were sure no one was ever supposed to be that deep inside of a person, but he started rolling his hips so there was more delicious friction against your clit. his fingers dug savagely into your hip and you knew without a doubt that sero could only dream of fulfilling you like this.

sero. you hadn’t thought of him since earlier. even worse, you didn’t even feel bad that another man was making you feel this way. if he ever asked, you could probably explain it away as just being a good employee. it was as if mr. aizawa could read your mind, because he spoke gruffly in your ear through his labored breathing.

“wouldn’t it be funny,” he slid into you particularly hard and you yelped. “to fill you up all nice and full with my cum and send you down to see what your little boyfriend thought of it?” he smirked down at you and you could feel yourself nearing an edge now thanks to his words.

“y-yes, mr. aizawa.” you puttered out through the shame trying to make its way onto your face. he smirked down at you and buried himself to the hilt in you and kept rolling his hips back and forth until your fingernails were biting into your palms and you were crying out shrilly. you could feel your walls tightening around mr. aizawa as he gave two more quick ruts into you and spilled himself within you.

you laid there panting and sweating, fully spent, as he stood up and tucked himself back into his trousers as if nothing had transpired between the two of you.

“would you like a cup of tea?” was all he asked as he situated his shirt.

“i’d like some.” you agreed through heavy-lidded eyes and curled up on your side as mr. aizawa stepped out of the parlor.

you must have dozed momentarily because the next thing you knew, mr. aizawa was kneeling next to you with a fresh cup of tea and was helping you to sit up against the arm of the settee. he sat on the floor and still matched your height and pushed the warm cup into your hands. you nodded your head in thanks, hands still shaky from the events that had transpired. you took a sip of the tea. it was warm and it soothed your throat. then you took another. if this was the wrong tea that you had bought, you would love to taste the real thing. it was quite pleasant. you took a third and fourth sip. you couldn’t make out why mr. aizawa was staring at you so heavily. you took a fifth sip and your chest started to feel heavier like you were trying to yawn and you couldn’t.

”m-mr. aizawa, i think i’m getting sleepy.”

“that’s quite alright. can you lift your arms?” he looks at you sinisterly and your stomach churns. you try to move your muscles and find that you can’t. mr. aizawa rubs his rough hand against the side of your face.

“i can’t move at all.” your jaw goes slack and all you can feel as your vision goes black is him taking you in his arms roughly and moving towards the door that you swore, under any circumstance, that you would never enter.

#tw dubcon #tw manipulation #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa smut #mha x you #jeni writes #i did poor sero so dirty in this

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