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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

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MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

All Might

There was an ache in your shoulder despite the painkillers. It was persistent, a constant reminder that your time in U.A. was beginning to lower your reaction speed. Perhaps you should consider returning to a full-time career in the hero world instead of taking random jobs here and there.

Sighing, you finished up with your costume and opened the door to find none other than Principle Nezu waiting for you.

“Great timing!” he chirped. “I was about to come and tell you that you’ll be sharing your second-year physical training class today.”

“The class that begins in twenty minutes?”

“That very one. When I found out that you had injured yourself, I thought that it would be best for you to take on an assistant of sort.” Nezu hummed softly to himself, as if wondering if he should continue. “And perhaps it will be a good experience for Toshinori to see how one can balance their time.”

You chuckled, catching onto the principle’s plan. “I don’t think a hero of All Might’s stature would have anything to learn from somebody like me.”

“There’s no doubt that he’s the better hero –“

“You could put that more nicely.”

“But you have far more experience teaching,” Nezu finished. “You take it easy to ensure your continued health and even though you whine about your lack of excitement, you never go out and chase it.”

That was true. Every year, you told the principle that you would be quitting and each time, he would laugh and tell you that you never would. You blamed the students. They were way too easy to get attached to.

All Might was waiting at the training grounds, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. The latter looked almost painted on. He absolutely towered over you, seemingly taller in person.

“We haven’t met properly before,” you said, giving your name. “But may I just say that I have endless respect for your heroic accomplishments.”

He laughed proudly. “Thank you. Nezu says that you got injured during a fight with a villain, is everything alright?”

There was something about his voice that you didn’t quite like. It just sounded so patently fake. Perhaps that was why you hadn’t been surprised when the news about his true form was shared amongst the faculty. It seemed to you that it should have been a given. Nobody spoke like he did in their day to day lives.

“It’s a shoulder injury,” you said. “In a similar line, you can drop the All Might moniker for a short while if you want. This class is incapable of arriving less than ten minutes late.”

“That’s alright! I’m sure this is a far more useful form.”

“Suit yourself,” you said with a nod. You rolled your shoulder and winced. “I’m going to need to have you taking over the majority of the hands-on training if that’s alright with you? If I push myself now, I’m just going to do more damage to the muscles.”

All Might gave an affirmative and then pondered your words. It was unsurprising when he seemingly vanished into a cloud of smoke, dropping the vast majority of his muscles and showing a far-more human façade.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he acknowledged. “Some rest before teaching would be easier on my injuries.”

You smiled. “The last thing you want to do is let these students think they’re strong enough to take you on just yet. Don’t need that going to their heads.”

Endeavor

It was an accident that led to your first encounter with the recently elected number one hero. And it had mostly been as a result of a very long day filled with endless bad luck.

You had been walking through the parking garage after having coffee spilled on you, losing your keys, and nearly breaking your ankle when an escalator stopped working. It was overall an awful day. And it was about to get even worse.

It must have been as a result of some kind of villain but the exact situation escaped you. All that you knew was that somebody got thrown from out of nowhere. They flew into one of the pillars and cracked it. You jumped and immediately rushed over to them. It was only once you were right beside him that you realised the fire was part of him.

“You’re Endeavor…” you breathed. “Are you alright?”

The hero stood, clearly shaken. A deep scowl covered his face. He was much, much taller than you had thought he would ever be. “Get out of here before you get hurt.”

Before either of you could do anything else though, the ground seemed to tremble, much like an earthquake. You looked up wearily. This was the ground floor so it wasn’t like you could fall through anywhere.

And then the ceiling started to crumble.

You barely had time to react, just screwing your eyes shut and hoping for the best. A wave of heat washed over you. Dust filled your lungs and you coughed as all around you, a cacophony of collapsing rubble filled the air.

An unnatural silence took over.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. It was far too dark with a flickering light illuminating a large cavern of rubble held up by a few of the pillars that were still standing. Powder swirled around you, filling your lungs and making you cough heavily. Then you noticed the reason that you hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch.

Endeavor stood over you, shielding you entirely. He showed no visible discomfort but as you stared, you realised that part of his suit had been ripped and blood trickled down his side.

A few seconds passed and he moved away. In the tight space, he was unable to even stand straight. “Damn it,” he cursed. “There’s no way that Hawks can move any of this nonsense. We’re going to be stuck here until rescue teams arrive.”

You sunk down slowly, sitting against something sharp and putting your hand over your mouth. “I’m going to die,” you whispered. “There’s no air here…”

“Don’t be dramatic,” the pro-hero snapped. “We have plenty of time before the air runs out. If it was just me, I could blast through here in no time.”

“Why can’t you?”

He stared at you as though you were stupid. “Either I would risk bringing the rest of this concrete down on your head or you would stand too close and get burnt. Somehow, I don’t think you would prefer either of those options.”

You shook your head and tried to hold back tears. This day had been worse than any other in your life. Should you call your family and friends? Was it worth worrying them just to hear their voices? Endeavor didn’t seem worried so maybe you should just trust that you would get out and everything would be fine. Or maybe you would die and –

Your thoughts were cut off by him suddenly appearing in front of you. “Relax,” he said. “If you panic, you’re just going to make the entire situation worse.”

“We’re trapped under concrete,” you said. “We could die.”

“You’re not going to die. Now stop being pathetic and find a way to occupy yourself that doesn’t cause a panic attack.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright.”

He nodded, moving considerably further away and then his flames flickered off. And that was your first meeting with Endeavor. Surprisingly, you ended up speaking until you were rescued.

Eraserhead

It had all begun years ago.

You remembered distinctly how you had been sitting in the garden and watching the bees happily buzz past. It was a warm day with a slight saltiness to the air. A perfect time to enjoy the summer as though you had no worries in the world.

Conversation filled the air and you perked up, recognising one of the voices. You had only managed to stand up when a blur of blue hair slammed into your side, pulling you into a tight hug with a happy shout of your name. Laughter filled the air as you nearly fell, unable to even hug back.

“Oboro!” you giggled. “I thought you were only getting back next week!”

He finally let you go and shot you a smile that made the sun look dim. “I was but then my parents said my friends could stay over! Come meet them.”

Oboro had been your closest friend for years but since going to U.A., you had seen less and less of him. That wasn’t to say that you hadn’t kept in contact of course but you missed him greatly.

His friends were… not what you expected.

The exceptionally loud blond was Hizashi Yamada and his quirk was volume-based. He greeted you with a booming shout, apparently having been told about you several times before arriving.

But Shota Aizawa interested you far more. He didn’t speak much and you never did find out his quirk when you were younger. When you’d asked why he wanted to be a hero, he just told you that he liked it. The rest of the week, you developed a bit of a crush on him and spent most of your time trying to impress him.

When the week ended, you didn’t see him again for a very long time and the next time you saw him, it was under circumstances you had never even imagined.

You were wearing a veil to hide your face. There was no dramatic rain or dark thunder on the day of the funeral. Rather fittingly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You liked to imagine that was Oboro’s final gift. A beautiful day to celebrate him.

Yamada had put his hand on your shoulder, subdued and quiet for the first time. He was a pro-hero now and you often saw his face on magazines.

Soon, he left to speak to others and you remained by the grave with only one other.

“Being a hero is more dangerous than I ever thought,” you said, not sure why you were speaking but feeling the urge to regardless. “You and Yamada have to stay as safe as you can, alright? He would want that.”

Aizawa glared at you from the corner of his eye. “How would you know that?”

“Because you were the most important people in the world to him,” you said. “Of course that’s what he would want.”

Aizawa didn’t speak anymore but after a while, he turned to leave. Before going, he paused and looked as though he wanted to say or do something. You met his gaze. It felt as though he could see straight through your veil, revealing the tears that streaked your face. The atmosphere wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just sad.

Still, standing there and just existing helped you to remember the loss wasn’t just your own. When Aizawa left, you turned back to Oboro’s gravestone feeling less alone in the world.

You were going to miss him like hell but you wouldn’t be remembering him by yourself.

Fatgum

As a solitary and underground hero, it was quite rare that you were contacted for big jobs. Rarer still that you took them instead of passing them on.

But something was different about this time.

This time, you had a personal vendetta drawing you to one of your least-favourite jobs – working with other heroes. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with them but many weren’t in it for actually helping people. That put a bad taste in your mouth.

The job wasn’t technically being led by you purely because the information had come through a larger agency. They hadn’t wanted to pass it off to you alone so now you were sitting in the briefing room, listening to them going over everything that your investigations had revealed. No credit given, of course.

You stood toward the end and offered a simple warning. The villain that you were after had little concern about causing collateral. If anything, he relished in it. Your warning was primarily targeted at some of the heroes whom you knew dealt more with casual villains.

Many of them got overwhelmed when they came up against drug dealers and sex traffickers instead of pickpockets.

And then everybody dispersed, each having their own orders about how they would contribute to a safe arrest.

Leaving you alone. At least, you thought you were alone until somebody spoke behind you.

“Do you know what always calms me down? Taiyaki.”

You startled, though you didn’t let it become noticeable. Instead you turned to find yourself absolutely dwarfed by the BMI hero, Fatgum. Somebody you had always known about but never gotten a chance to meet.

“Do I really look that stressed?” you enquired.

He chuckled. “Not to be rude, but you definitely do.”

You sighed and looked at the documents in your hands. It was probably best that you didn’t have a mirror on you. “I’m worried about this case,” you said. “This guy has slipped through my hands a few too many times.”

Fatgum nodded. “I know how that feels but don’t worry too much. Everybody here is a capable hero and together, we’ll get him for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a few were capable but not everybody.

“You’re too cynical,” he reprimanded though there was little malice to his words. “You should try to trust the rest of us. At least for long enough to get a little sleep.”

You reached up and touched the bags that had formed under your eyes. “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be perfectly fine.” You shoved the documents into a small bag and slung it over your shoulder. Once you dropped them off at home, you could head back out and see if anything had popped up.

“It’s still pretty early,” Fatgum mused. “What are your plans?”

“I’m going to go and see if any of my sources have found new information.”

“Uwabami was meant to be doing that tonight accourding to the schedule,” he pointed out. “But you’re probably not going to be taking the night off. Why don’t you join me for my patrol? You can keep an ear to the ground and also not continue exhausting yourself.”

Sighing, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “We hardly know each other. Why are you so worried about me?”

He shrugged. “Too many heroes drive themselves crazy with this kind of stuff. Come on. My work study students are great, you’ll love them both.”

There was a reason that you didn’t take any of those on but admittedly his two students were entertaining.

Gang Orca

It was all for the sake of the cameras.

You had to remember that when you were getting up before the sun rose. Everything had to be absolutely perfect about your appearance. If it wasn’t then your little ruse would be seen through by every reporter with half a braincell.

Then you had to get to the setup site and speak with the marketing team secretly. You stood with the team leader to one side, discussing everything like old friends over a cup of coffee.

“Essentially, what we’re looking for is a very breathless and awe-struck victim,” he explained to you. “When you speak to the media, try and make it like you never even thought of Gang Orca much before but now his rescue has made him into your favourite. We’re trying to build a greater trust with the public especially amongst children.”

You pulled a face. “I don’t much like working with kids but for a small increase, I can become quite the lover of them for a short while.”

The guy smiled. “You’re one of the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you. You can get your increase.”

“Thank you. Now let’s get to work.”

You made your way to the ‘accident’ site. The costume team ripped your shirt and you had some fake blood dotted around your head. Nothing to make your injuries too severe but enough for some pity.

And then you climbed under the wreck and waited.

Approved photographers snapped their pictures as you were rescued from your metal prison by the tall Gang Orca. His strength alone was enough to pull the door free. He held his hand out to you while using his other to lift the car high enough to help you out. You made a show of crawling free and then stumbling a little.

With one hand on your head, you leaned against him and stared up with a grateful expression. Cameras flashed and he checked the wreck once more before leading you away for ‘medical treatment’.

Once out of view of the media circus, you straightened and wiped some of the fake blood away from your mouth. “Thank you for the rescue,” you said.

Gang Orca didn’t seem very happy about it at all. It was good that his hero image didn’t need too many smiles.

“I’m going to guess that this wasn’t really your idea?”

He sighed. “No. I don’t like the need to fake rescues when there are real people who should be getting help from a hero.”

“But those people aren’t getting paid to better the public’s opinion of you,” you said. “Twenty minutes here can be what knocks you off lists like ‘scariest heroes’ and similar stuff. That way, you get even more opportunities to save people.”

You couldn’t tell if he was grimacing or not but he definitely appeared to be. It made sense. While some heroes relished in the easier work, many didn’t like the media part of their jobs.

“If you’re happy with it, I’d like your autograph,” you said. “It’ll help me sell the whole situation a lot easier.”

“Alright.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t have a warm opinion of the media either,” you said. “They’re vultures who benefit from the fall of good heroes. What I, and others, do helps stop the best from being sidelined just because they’re intimidating or unmarketable. You’re in this for the right reason but the news organisations don’t care about that.”

He sighed deeply. “It’s unfortunate that you’re right. Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to be happy with these kinds of arrangements.”

“Few people are.”

Hawks

Being a photographer was competitive work, especially in a world where people could have quirks allowing them to grow cameras from their bodies.

You had to go the extra mile in order to compete with them and carve out a name for yourself. Either you had to be there first or you had to see something that nobody else did. A good intuition never led you astray.

And so, when you found yourself walking down the right street late one afternoon, you just knew that it was time to take out your camera.

The event was nothing catastrophic. Indeed, it seemed that the main danger was people’s stupidity. A fire had started on the bottom floor of an office building and instead of waiting for first responders to do their jobs, people were choosing to make things more difficult by climbing out of windows and stuff like that.

Soon enough, heroes were on the scene and you had your camera ready.

Naturally, Backdraft was the first to arrive and you got some great photos of the rescue hero doing what he did best. The light from the flames perfectly illuminated the hero and made the entire situation feel a great deal more dramatic than it was.

The second hero was a young woman whose name escaped your mind. She assisted the civilians as best she could but, no sooner did she help one down, and the person was practically taken from her arms.

Bright red feathers flew across the scene, darting into the building and pulling every person free by their clothing. They were lowered safely to the ground though many stumbled.

You didn’t lower your camera but you cursed out Hawks under your breath.

Never, in your wildest imagination, did you expect to hear him respond.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

You startled, just about dropping your camera on the ground in shock. He was perched above your head, atop one of the streetlights, a smirk on his face and his visor down. His wings were shorter than usual and the only way you could tell he was even helping with the incident.

“You ruined my photo,” you said. “And she had him, you know?”

“She was moving too slow. The poor guy would have been stuck in the air for several minutes longer and that’s just not good on the heart. Besides, I can make up for your lost photo if you snap a shot in the next three seconds.”

You scoffed. “A photo of you sitting on a streetlight? From this angle?”

“What? Not dramatic enough for you?”

“Not unique enough, more like. You’re the most photographed hero in the whole of Japan. The internet is teeming with images of you from every possible angle, distance, and situation. I’ve seen them all.”

For some reason, that seemed to get to the pro-hero a little and you were surprised when he landed beside you. You were very rarely this close to a pro, your bravado disappearing now that he was actually standing there.

“So you’re saying I’m not worth a photo?”

Part of you felt like saying that he was and quickly taking one but your pride didn’t allow it. “Not when there are lesser-known heroes here. They don’t have crazy stalkers willing to chase them around the city for any picture.”

“And aren’t they luckier for it,” he sighed. “Ah well, your loss. I’ll see you around.”

With a flap of his wings, he was gone and you watched him go, fighting the urge to snap a photo the entire time.

Midnight

Some would call you shallow but interviews were one of your favourite parts of being a hero. Getting to answer questions and engage with the people who admired you was an experience that you just adored. Not only that but they were often the best place to clear up rumours or speculations so long as they were edited well.

With a reliable broadcaster and positive outcomes on all of your latest jobs, you were extremely excited to be offered an interview. You knew there was an ulterior motive of some kind but you hadn’t been sure as to what.

But still, you arrived early, dressed in your hero costume, and had your makeup done up as best as it could be.

And then you watched the interview before you and you quickly realised that the broadcast was doing a segment. One focused on hero costumes.

Your own was quite unique, a step away from the usual appearance of heroes. Personally, you loved it.

The public however was divided on whether it was fashion forward or just a flop.

And clearly that was why individual heroes had been chosen.

Being interviewed at the moment and practically being drilled on the ins-and-outs of her costume was nobody other than Midnight herself. She looked absolutely amazing as ever. A natural on the stage and in the field.

You had to admit however that you didn’t feel comfortable with the questions they were asking her. She answered smoothly but mostly in deflection.

The other heroes around you agreed with your assessment. This felt like an attempt at creating a media circus. Few were interested in participating anymore.

The moment Midnight gave her leave, the producers began gesturing at you. You gave them a look and turned around with the rest of the heroes there.

Midnight was in a bad mood but she put on a smirk when you made eye contact with her.

“We’re leaving,” you told her. “None of us were told that this was going to be working off controversy.” You wanted to apologise that she had been the first to get interrogated but you didn’t know how to do that.

She laughed. “You weren’t expecting there to be a catch?”

“I mean, I was but I thought they were a little better than running a segment that’s so clearly focused on… well…”

“Sex appeal?” Midnight asked.

You awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah. It probably should have tipped us off that we were all around the same status. No real big names aside from your own have worked with this broadcast channel.”

“And nobody will again once I speak to a few contacts,” Midnight said, a hint of bitterness finally seeping into her voice. “Guess that will teach me to give new places a chance. They’re all looking for the big ratings instead of actual interest. Maybe I should just go into being a teacher full time at this rate.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

She shushed you. “Not if I don’t say it out loud.”

You laughed and stuck by her as your group exited the building, ignoring the clamoring from the higher-ups who were desperately trying to convince you to stay. The type of people who would take advantage of being able to pressure people into things. Lovely.

“Don’t you hate how rude they are to you?” you asked her. “I get so furious sometimes and my questions are always tame compared to yours.”

She shrugged. “At some point, you get used to it. I don’t think there’s a question out there that would shock me anymore.”

You really hoped you never reached that point.

Mirko

The villain pulled experimentally at his cuffs. He twisted around and began shuffling when he met your eyes.

“Where exactly are you trying to go?”

He grumbled something under his breath and stopped moving. You raised a hand to your head and sighed. At this rate, you were going to wind up with wrinkles. One of your favourite outfits had been destroyed by this little altercation and nobody had even bothered to show up yet. Somebody had called emergency services, right?

“Stop moving, I can hear you,” you snapped.

The villain would have been a greater threat if you hadn’t happened to be shopping in the area. Your quirk was the perfect match for his own and it allowed you to quickly take control of an otherwise dangerous situation.

Now you sat on a bench, him tied to the nearest building support bench, and you waited for somebody to arrive and take him off your hands.

There was a thump somewhere to your right and you lazily looked up from your phone. Only for your heart to kind of stutter.

“Aw, come on! I was told there was going to be some excitement over here!” Mirko complained. “What gives?!”

The rabbit hero was absolutely gorgeous with white hair and legs that went on for literal days. She was the epitome of everything you aspired to be as a hero. What she did was on her own terms and she fought for the thrill of it all.

You had just never expected to actually meet her.

“I’ve dealt with it,” you said once you had gotten over your shock. You gestured towards the villain. “No problems here.”

Mirko bounded over and stuck her face way too close to his. Her nose seemed to twitch in excitement. “You don’t seem so tough,” she scoffed. “I got the call and it said that this was setting itself up to be a good clash! Are you just that good?”

Her eyes fell on you, bright and teasing. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and she huffed it away without breaking eye contact.

“I am,” you said, mostly joking but feeling unable to deny it.

She threw her head back and laughed. “That’s a good answer. I like your confidence.” She eyed what you were wearing. “Your costume could use some work though.”

You chuckled. “It’s actually pretty similar to yours when I’m not interrupted while shopping. I’ve always loved your style.”

She nodded firmly as though that was a given. Then she looked around and raised an eyebrow. “If this moron interrupted your shopping, then what are you doing hanging around with him? You have things to get back to, don’t you?”

You gestured around. “I do but the police haven’t shown up yet.”

“Don’t worry about them,” she scoffed. “I’ll bounce this guy down to the station for you. Don’t waste time just standing around.”

She turned back to the villain just in time for you to both see him run around the corner. He nearly tripped but managed to keep his footing. You glanced at one another and Mirko laughed heartily. “You stay here,” she said. “I can deal with cowards in well under a minute. They always do the same things to ‘throw me off’ or whatever.”

“I’ll come with you,” you said. “It’s technically my fault he got away. And I could always learn a thing or two from the best, right?”

She grinned. “I knew I liked you. Let’s see if you can keep up though.”

Natsuo

On a good summer’s day, there was nothing better than the beach. The waves gently lapping at the shore, soft clouds drifting across the sky, and few children due to the earliness of the day. It was well worth getting up early to watch the sun creep its way over the ocean and begin what was scheduled to be the hottest day of the year.

Not that you would be outside when it hit noon. By that time, ice cream and a nice spot of shade became necessary.

For now though, you waltzed along the beach and enjoyed the sand beneath your feet. As you walked, you kept an eye out for shells though there were scarce. People came every day to collect this time of year.

In a way, that made you sad.

But the lack of shells did mean that you didn’t need to watch where you were walking quite as much. At least, that was your thought process. Shells cut your feet and there were none so why keep an eye on the sand.

The answer is broken bottles.

It was a sake bottle, probably stolen away by some kids to be drunk where their parents wouldn’t see. The searing pain made you think you’d stepped on a jellyfish. Cursing, you jerked your foot away, blood running down into the sand below.

A small wave washed up, taking the bloodied sand away to reveal the culprit.

Struggling to balance, you hopped away from the bottle and sat down, lifting your foot to see the damage. It was a rather deep slice that made you feel quite woozy. Sand was already sitting around the injury and your only option to wash it off was the very salty sea.

“Sorry, do you need some help?”

You glanced behind you to see a guy standing on the boardwalk. His hair was pale and his expression kind. Something about him seemed oddly familiar but you weren’t sure why.

“I stood on a bottle,” you said. “It’s alright.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you need some help getting off the sand?”

You were going to deny the offer but your entire leg felt like it was on fire. The pain was undoubtedly because of your brain flicking through reminders about the danger of stepping on glass. “If you’re alright with it.”

He made his way down to where you were sitting quite quickly and glanced at your foot. “That’s going to need stitches,” he said. He offered his water bottle to you. “You should clean it off and then put some pressure on it before we move it.”

The cut hadn’t seemed that bad to you but you hadn’t really been looking carefully. “Are you sure?” You still took the water though, hissing as you poured it over your cut.

“Very,” he said. “Do you mind your towel getting blood on it?”

“No.”

He used the towel to put pressure on the cut and then helped you stand, hobbling your way off the beach. Once there, he quickly listed off the nearest hospitals.

“Are you a medical student by any chance?” you asked, trying to keep your mind off the pain.

He blushed. “Sorry, is it obvious?”

You laughed. “Just a little but that’s okay. It was good that you happened to be nearby then. Can I get your name?”

He hesitated but then said, “Natsuo. Don’t worry about my family name.”

Curious now, especially given how familiar he looked, you were tempted to push. But you didn’t and instead thanked him again for his help. He turned out to be correct, of course. You did need stitches.

Present Mic

You stretched before going into the office. Everything was sore – an unfortunate result of your late night. It couldn’t have been helped. Train wrecks were rarely planned.

Principle Nezu greeted you warmly when you arrived and then asked you to sit down. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, there was a recent incident on the grounds. Thirteen was badly injured and we’re in need of a new teacher with expertise in natural disaster management.” He smiled at you. “I thought you would be the perfect match.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression you were going to try convince me to take a work study student.”

“I’m sure you will one year,” he joked.

“Unlikely but you can always offer.” You sighed and turned your gaze out the window. “I have little care for children. This will be a temporary position, yes?”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

You gave him a look but the principle just sipped at his tea. He already knew that you were going to accept – if only because you had always been a close friend of Thirteen’s. Taking over one class wasn’t going to kill you.

“I don’t have any experience in this,” you reasoned. “Other schools must have teachers who can come and cover classes?”

“None who are as experienced in the field as you are. So I’ve organised with Hizashi Yamada to take you through his methods of teaching and you can convert them over. He’ll be here soon.”

You sunk further into your chair, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “What would you have done if I said no?”

“Been very disappointed, of course.”

Present Mic was a hero you had always admired but you hadn’t ever expected him to be as loud in person as he was in the media. You just about jumped out of your skin when he entered the room dramatically, calling out a greeting.

Nezu gave the introductions and informed you that before doing an actual class, you had a week of acting as an assistant instructor alongside Present Mic.

“Should I invest in earbuds?” you joked.

He laughed but then actually lowered his voice as though you had reminded him. “Don’t worry. If I yell too much in class, Shota tends to come and glare through the doorway until I quieten down.”

You chuckled. “Do you have similar teaching schedules?’

“No but he claims that he can hear me from anywhere in the school. It’s the best way to find him actually. You just yell until he shows up.”

“I’ll take that as lesson number one in how to teach at U.A.”

“Lesson number one is to not take Nemuri’s flirting seriously,” he corrected. “I know it’s very flattering to think that she’s interested but she’s not. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell her to stop but she doesn’t always listen. It’s part of her image, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow at Nezu but he just shrugged. That didn’t seem like it was too professional but alright.

You took a deep breath and tried to pretend that this was just going to be temporary. It wasn’t like Nezu had been trying for years to get you involved at the school.

Temporary.

“Which subject do you teach?” you asked as you followed Present Mic from the office.

“English. No crazy action or anything which means you have to work double time to keep the students interested. You’ll have it far easier.”

Nobody really prepared you for the fact that Class 1A didn’t know how to do things the easy way.

#mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #all might x reader #endeavor x reader #aizawa x reader #midnight x reader #mirko x reader #natsuo todoroki x reader #present mic x reader #fatgum x reader #gang orca x reader #hawks x reader

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arvandus · 4 years

Text

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.

Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit. He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered. “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”

“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” You replied.

Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.

He was interested. In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”

Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

You couldn’t wait.

#aizawa shouta #Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x you #shouta x reader #Shouta x you #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa smut #bnharem collab #Jazz Aizawa #Jazz AU #Music AU #BNHA music AU

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bookwormsid1015 · 3 years

Text

Operation: Baby Talk [1/3]

Hizashi pounds his fist against the mahogany door rapidly while Shouta and Oboro stand behind him, Shouta with his standard bored expression and Oboro with shifting, anxious feet. Beside them, a small white cloud floats drowsily with a small grocery bag full of chili bean soup and medicine inside it.

Unlike the three boys, Nemuri is already living alone in a small apartment complex a few streets away from UA High School, working two jobs to keep up with rent and her own chaotic interests. Although her independence gives them a great place to hang out to play video games on weekends, it also draws most of her attention away from them most of the week. Despite this, Nemuri has always been a punctual, upstanding student who turns in her homework on time and always makes room for friends. Nothing has ever stopped her before, and it still amazes Oboro to see her act like such an… adult.

Bottom line: Nemuri is a busy bee and it’s not uncommon to not see her for days on end. What is uncommon, however, is discovering she hasn’t been at school or internship for the past three days and apparently called off work for the next two weeks.

This knowledge has been bothering Oboro nonstop. Is she okay? Did she get hurt while on patrol with His Purple Highness? Did she get sick? Is she all alone? Her parents live in Saitama Prefecture, a whole three hours away from Musutafu. If she is sick, knowing Nemuri and her stupid habit of hoarding her burdens to herself, she didn’t tell them or anyone else. Oboro knows for a fact she didn’t tell him, Shouta or Hizashi; the only reason they know of her strange absence was through Iida Tensei, who Oboro shares his math class with.

“Oh, she called His Purple Highness and told him something came up and that she wouldn’t be coming in for a while,” Iida had told him casually. “Why? She didn’t tell you?”

It pissed Shouta and Hizashi off that Nemuri wouldn’t let them-- her best friends-- know about her getting sick, but it just worried Oboro. It took a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag them with him to the local grocery store, grab Nemuri her favorite soup and some medicine, and come all the way over here. Shouta and Hizashi kept on glancing at Oboro strangely and whispering to each other, but Oboro doesn’t understand why they would act so weird about it. He’s Nemuri’s friend! Friends are supposed to look out for each other, right?

“Nemuriiii!” Hizashi shouts through the door between rapid knocking. “I know you’re in there, I can smell hoe for miles! Open up the mcfuckin’ dooooorrr!”

Shouta lifts an unamused eyebrow at Hizashi. “Dude, what the fuck?” he deadpans, and Hizashi glares at the ravenette from over his shoulder.

“We’re friends! I’m allowed to call her a hoe.” Hizashi turns back to the door. “Nemuri! Open the DOOR!” He emphasizes “door” with a high pitched shriek, and Oboro shoves his palm into his face to stifle his snorts.

“You guys are both assholes,” Shouta grumbles, though it’s obvious he’s smiling.

The door swings open in a quick arc that slams into Hizashi’s forehead with a comical bonk. Nemuri is standing in the doorway, clad in her pajamas with baggy pink sweatpants and a white tank top with spaghetti straps. Her red glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, her deep indigo hair tied up into a short messy bun atop her head, and her tired blue eyes glare at the boys with exhausted irritation. Seeing Nemuri without her usual playful smile is surprising in and of itself, but Oboro’s sky blue eyes widen at what she’s holding against her chest with one arm.

A small baby dressed in a cute little sailor suit is leaning into her chest, snoozing quietly with one thumb in his mouth. He looks like the splitting image of Nemuri, with a matching mole under his right eye and pale skin. The only thing that differs from her is the baby’s hairstyle, which is short and curly.

Nemuri releases the door knob and readjusts her grip on the baby, still glaring at the boys. “What the fuck, guys? You couldn’t even call in advance?” she hisses at them.

Shouta and Hizashi stare between Nemuri and the baby, speechless, while Oboro’s brain turns like slow moving gears. After a solid three seconds, he suddenly utters a horrified gasp that attracts the eyes of all three friends. “Nemuri! You were pregnant?!” he shrieks.

The accusation breaks the shocked spell in an instant, and suddenly Hizashi is lying flat on his ass, howling with laughter. Even Shouta ducks his face away, trying to stifle his giggles; Nemuri narrows her eyes at Oboro pointedly.

“Oh yeah, I got pregnant and gave birth in three days. Of course I wasn’t pregnant, dipshit.” Nemuri readjusts her grip on the baby again, holding him up a little higher. “This is my older sister’s kid. Say hello to baby Haito, everyone.”

Not knowing what else to do, everyone waves at the little baby, and the baby lifts his head drowsily. When he opens his eyes, Oboro is surprised to find the baby’s eyes are a light blue that matches the hue of the sky above, with faint freckles dusting over his cheeks. Upon seeing the newcomers, the baby fusses anxiously and buries his face in Nemuri’s bust.

Nemuri’s attitude changes in an instant, from tired and angry to worried and tender. She lifts one hand to gently pat the baby’s back and she rocks him from side to side. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay Haito-baby. It’s okay. Auntie Nemi’s here. You’re safe with me,” she coos into his hair, and the baby’s whines quiet down. Her voice is so soft and gentle it warms Oboro’s heart just by hearing it, and he can tell Hizashi and Shouta are just as shocked by her motherly tone.

After the baby quiets down, Nemuri lifts her head to peer at her friends, suddenly tired all over again. “Sorry for being a bitch, guys. My sister and her boyfriend had to go abroad for some job interview in South Korea, and since my parents think her boyfriend is a deadbeat, they want nothing to do with him or the baby. So she gave Haito to me,” Nemuri explains, punctuating her words with a tired sigh. “I’ve had, like, no sleep for the past three days. Damn… and my rent’s due next Thursday…”

Shouta and Hizashi look between themselves, unsure of how to react. Only Oboro is willing to meet Nemuri’s eyes, and worry pangs to life in his chest at the dark bags under her eyes. “When will they be back?” he asks her.

“Hm? In about two weeks, I think,” she says, and Oboro can almost feel her invisible walls rising, guarding her from their worry. “Don’t worry, guys. I’m fine. I’ve pulled all-nighters before, this is nothing.”

“You weren’t taking care of someone’s kid, though,” Oboro gently protests. “Have you been eating anything? Anything at all?”

Nemuri pries her eyes away from his concerned stare. “I had a protein shake yesterday,” she replies stiffly.

Oboro’s brows lower into a frown. “For breakfast or dinner?” he presses.

Nemuri sighs. “Breakfast…” she mutters in response, then quickly shakes her head as a wobbly smile forces its way onto her lips. “It’s nothing. I mean it. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

Oboro is already shaking his head. “That’s bullshit,” he tells her, and when he sees her shoulders haunching defensively, he quickly adds, “I know you can take care of yourself, but as your friend, I still worry about you. I mean, look at you! You look like you could pass out any second now!”

“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone harder this time.

Oboro stares at her incredulously. Why can’t she just let them help for once? She has it in her mind that she has to be the strong one, the responsible one. Why can’t she see that she’s a kid just like the rest of them? It frustrates him to no end, yet in the depths of his exasperation, an epiphany comes to mind.

“Why don’t I help you take care of him?” he offers, and his friends’ eyes fall on him in surprise.

“You? Help me? Take care of… a baby?” Nemuri echoes, her words slow and meticulous as if she were taking her time tasting a treat, figuring out whether she liked it or not. She glances down at the baby in her arms, then to the small cloud floating beside the taller boy, eyeing the small grocery bag full of medicine in particular. Oboro has never seen her look so… anxious before.

Assuming she’s just not used to being offered help, Oboro goes on cheerfully, “Yeah! I have a little brother, remember? I’m a pro at babysitting!” Something about his words is bothering him, the reason flapping seamlessly in the back of his mind, though Oboro can’t pin down why. He just smiles joyfully at her, hoping his smile is convincing enough.

Finally, Nemuri sighs. “Come around six tonight,” she tells him, her tone strange. “Haito usually gets fussy around dinner time.”

Oboro flashes her a thumbs up. “Bet!” he cheers.

Nemuri smiles at him, and Oboro’s heart gives an unexpected beat; somehow it feels different from her usual broad, gleaming smiles. He doesn’t have enough time to decipher it before Nemuri quickly bids them goodbye and closes the door, disappearing back into her apartment.

A long beat of silence passes between them, and Oboro doesn’t dare move his eyes away from the front door. He can feel the hot stares of Shouta and Hizashi on his back, pinning him in place like a butterfly on a bulletin board.

“Holy fucking shit. Did you just…?” Suddenly, Hizashi’s face splits apart into a bright smile, and he latches his arms around Oboro’s to shake rapidly. “Dude, I can’t believe you did that! You’re so smooth!”

Oboro blinks at him owlishly, still not comprehending what just happened. The flapping in the back of his mind is deafening, now. “Eh? What’d I do?” he asks.

Hizashi laughs loudly. “Don’t play coy with me, bro! You totally went, ‘fear not, my love. Even if this child is not mine, I shall support both you and the baby!’ That was so domestic it made me blush!” he squeals.

The puzzle pieces finally fit together in his brain, and a blush hits him with the speed of an oncoming train. Suddenly, he remembers the faint blush on her cheeks, and the tender pull of her smile. Although Nemuri is the type of person to extend a helping hand out to anyone in need, she rarely accepts help from anyone else. In spite of that, she’s letting him help her with taking care of her sister’s baby?

Oboro has no idea what expression is on his face right now.

“Oboro.” Shouta’s stern voice reaches his ears, grounding him before his brain could float into the sky like a balloon. He slowly turns to face the ravenette, and finds Shouta watching him with dark, serious eyes. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” he asks, his tone flat.

Oboro blinks slowly, his brain slow and muddled yet filled with thoughts moving at the speed of light. “I… said I’d help wit’ da baby…” he murmurs dumbly, the words feeling alien on his tongue. Shouta sighs.

The trio finally gather their wits and begin walking away from Nemuri’s doorstep. Oboro is suddenly thankful her apartment is on the first floor; he doesn’t think he has the motor skills to walk down stairs right now. “I know you said you have a little brother, but it’s been seven years since you had to change a diaper. Do you think you can handle this?” Shouta asks the taller boy, and Oboro wrings his hands together tightly.

“I mean, yeah, why not?” he replies, more so to convince himself. “Between me and Nemuri, how hard can it be?”

#Bnha #Bnha Vigilantes #Mha #Kayama Nemuri #Shirakumo Oboro #Aizawa Shouta #Yamada Hizashi #Shirakumo Oboro x Kayama Nemuri #CloudNight #Shirayama #Bnha Midnight #Loud Cloud #Eraserhead #Present Mic #Haha fuckers I told you I won't let this ship die

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nasaty · 3 years

Text

Forget me not

Aizawa-Sensei x Y/n-Sensei fic

TW: (eventually) violence, discussion of past death, just some bad feelings all around.

Part 9/??

——————

“She’s got a decently bad concussion. She should start feeling more normal soon but then the pain is going to hit her. I’m going to have recovery girl come in and help her a bit, but you still need to keep her awake for a while. She can sleep in small segments but don’t let her sleep for more than two hours at a time for the next twelve hours.” The doctor gave Shouta a sheet of paper with instructions and a prescription for pain killers. They discharged you after that.

Shouta had called Nemuri to have her come pick you both up and take you back to the dorms.

“Oh honey…you got fucked right up.” Nemuri said as she opened the back of her van.

You heard Shouta talk to Nemuri and explain the situation. He leaned down towards you.

“Is it okay if you stay with me tonight so I can keep an eye on you?” He asked

“…oh…we can have a sleepover.” You said, still a bit dazed.

“Hah…yes we can have a sleepover. Nemuri is going to take us back now.”

“Thank you, Nem.” You gazed at her, and she ruffled your hair softly. Aizawa lifted you up into the seat of her car and sat on the other side. You laid on his shoulder and he whispered to you sweetly, not that you could tell what he was saying.

You took a short nap on the way back to UA and when Nemuri parked you woke up, feeling a lot more clear but you had a splitting headache.

“Oh wow this sucks.” You stated. As you got out of the van, hand in Shoutas hand for support.

“Hah…yeah it does. Do you want to take some medicine to help?”

“Yes please”

Shouta mouthed a sincere ‘thank you’ at Nemuri and she mouthed, ‘you owe me’ back.

As he was unlocking the door to his room, Midoriya appeared in the hallway.

“Aizawa-sensei? Y/n-Sensei?”

“Go to sleep, problem child.” Spat Aizawa.

“Oh don’t be so mean to Midoriya.” You defended.

“What’s going on?” Midoriya rubbed his eyes.

“Y/n-Sensei has a concussion. We ran into a villain tonight.”

“Are you and Y/n-Sensei dating?!” You both forgot you were wearing dress clothes rather than your usual casual or hero costumes you wore to school.

Aizawa sighed, “Go to sleep, Midoriya.” He ordered and you giggled.

He let you into his room and lead you to the couch, made you some tea and gave you a couple pain pills.

“Thank you for taking care of me Shouta.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He said.

“Yes you did. You saved me and you took me to the hospital and you’re taking care of me.”

He hummed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help.”

“You saved that boys life.” He stated.

“The student?”

“Yes. He was from Shiketsu. If you hadn’t been near him when that villain hit you both, that blow would’ve broke his neck.”

“Oh….”

“You’re not really confident in yourself as a hero are you.”

“Yeah….not really.”

“You should be. I mean you beat me sparring, it’s not like you can be that bad.” He smirked.

“Yeah but I can’t do anything when it counts. Just in practice.”

“Your intuition kept that kid alive. I wouldn’t say thats nothing.”

“I just happened to be there though, it’s not like I helped.” You looked Shouta in the eyes and saw tears welling up in his eyes. “Shouta??”

“I would’ve done anything to have someone like you with me and Oboro. Maybe he’d still be alive. That isn’t nothing.”

You vaguely remember the news story about Oboro Shirakumo when you were in late middle school, the year before you started at UA. Your parents brought him up to try and get you to not attend, and you thought that was disrespectful.

“You we’re with Oboro?” You asked.

“Oboro was my best friend. Me and Hizashi’s.”

“Oh….wow….” Your eyes traced the ground frantically thinking of what to say.

“You saved more than that boy tonight, believe me. A whole community of people have their friend tonight. Their colleague, their family member. That’s because of you…. Please understand that.”

Tears streamed down your face and Shouta grabbed a tissue to dab your cheeks. He kissed you above both of eyes, and you fell asleep in his arms.

———————-

Shouta woke you up a few times in the middle of the night as he was told, and you continued your conversations. He’d let you sleep for an hour or so and then gently nudge you awake and you’d stay up, talking where you left off before. He kept notes on his phone to remember the things you talked about so he could bring it back up when you awoke again.

“Sometimes I feel like UA failed us.” You said.

“It’s gotten a lot better since we’ve returned.” Shouta observed.

“Fair. I just was thinking about the whole general studies/hero course thing because of Shinso and I was irritated. I was forced into the hero course but they never taught me the things I needed to do to actually work in the field, to keep myself safe. They acted like I had a strength quirk or something but then when I couldn’t measure up, they just ignored me.”

“I can see that. It was similar for me, but I decided to only pay attention to physical and practical hero work after Oboro passed and let everything else fall by the wayside. But they seemed to think that was fine because I was strong.”

“They needed to teach us how to work together more. And rely on each others strengths.”

“You’re right about that one. I’m hoping we’re doing better with that now.”

You fell back asleep.

——————

“Shouta why haven’t we worked together before? Like hero work? Not like….tonight… but like in general. We both have stealthy quirks, I feel like it would work well.” You asked.

“You want to know the real reason or are you just suggesting we team up?”

“Both I guess.”

“I realized recently I was ignoring you and being rude because I really liked you. I was trying to make my feelings go away but I couldn’t….so I just kinda gave in.” He admitted. “But we should do hero work together. You could find the villains with your quirk and I could erase them before they even know we’re there. And we’ve finally learned how to communicate so maybe it would work out…heh.”

“Did we really learn how to communicate? Or did we just stop being shit heads.”

“Same thing.” He smirked.

——————-

“I like the dress you wore tonight. Even thought it’s a bit destroyed now…you looked nice.”

“Oh but I don’t look nice anymore?” You teased.

“That’s not- I didn’t-“

“I’m kidding Shouta. Thank you.” He sighed in relief, and you continued. “So do you only have that one blue tie?”

“HAH yes. I bought it for the one press conference I had to do.”

“I knew I’d seen it before…you looked nice in it though. We should get you some more.”

He blushed at your use of ‘we’. “I’d like that.”

———————

“Shouta what kind of smells do you like?”

“What….kind of smells?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I was putting on perfume and tonight and I didn’t know what you would like.”

“Um…I guess I don’t really know. Never thought about it.”

“What cologne do you wear?”

“I don’t…? I’m just hygienic I guess..?”

“So you just naturally smell like sandalwood?!”

“I don’t know what that is.” He chuckled.

—————————

“Have you just been wearing that suit this whole time?!” You realized it had been hours and he was just sitting with you.

“I…..didn’t want to leave you alone while I found something else to wear.”

“Shouta.”

“What.”

“Go find something comfy to wear! I’ll be right here, I’ll be fine.”

He left the room for a moment and came back with a dark t-shirt and bright pink sweatpants on, another big shirt folded in his arms.

“Oh. My. God.” You bursted out laughing.

“Okay okay get it out of your system. Zashi bought these for me as a gag gift years ago... but they’re really comfy.”

“I love them. This is fantastic.”

“I brought you a change of clothes too if you’d like.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with me borrowing your clothes?”

“What kind of a stupid ass, irrational question is that?” He joked.

You gasped, “I’m serious!”

“Please wear my shirt.”

You giggled, “okay.”

——————

“Shouta.”

“Hmm?” He replied

“Do I have to work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed and he snickered. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“I took the day off. I thought I would just hang around and make sure you’re okay.” He said.

“You‘re sweet, Shouta.”

“I’m glad you think so. Sorry for….the way I treated you before.”

“I’m sorry too. We were both stupid.”

He laughed, “yes we were.”

———————

“Shouta.”

“Yes, y/n?”

“Was this date…and like the time in the showers…all a one time thing?”

His smile fell. “…did you want it to be a one time thing…?”

“No…I want it to be a lots of times thing.” You giggled and looked away.

“Oh…good.” His smirk returned and he kissed you on the cheek. As he pulled back you took his face in your hands and gave him a deep, loving kiss. You felt the tension release from his body and he threw his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “It’s a lot’s of times thing, then.”

#aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x female reader #bnha aizawa #bnha #mha #aizawa slow burn #shouta aizawa #aizawa angst #aizawa fluff #aizawa smut

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unfunny-quips · 4 years

Text

Shouta had been sized up before.

Many times during his life, in fact. As a student, as a hero, as a teacher. He’d always met the assessments with the same steady, unflinching gaze of his own. He knew his capabilities, and no amount of side eye or stare down would make him think twice.

That did not mean he was in any way prepared for Midoriya Inko.

Nezdu’s assistant - soft spoken, unassuming, and sweet - had a way of making her scrutinizing gaze seem gentle as it swept over him. Her sharp eyes taking in every detail, weighing and measuring every fact she gathered. She always had a bright smile and a kind word, a gentle hand to guide when needed. And yet, somehow, she was one of the very, very few people Shouta had ever met that made him nervous.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, he supposed. For all the things he had faced down in his career, he had never faced true, unwavering evil the way she had. The green haired woman had been married to the single most dangerous man in Japan - very possibly the world - and had come out of the experience with her heart of gold intact.

An impressive enough feat on its own merit. That she had managed to pull one over on that villain - gathering up her sons and a damning amount of information and sweeping them away to safety before All For One had even a chance to understand what was happening - that was terrifying. She’d stormed the police, stared down the Symbol of Peace himself, and forced the Hero Commision themselves to give her a deal placing her family in the highest amount of security available.

Most terrifying of all, she had impressed Nezdu.

The woman was a force of nature and Shouta was smart enough to know he wouldn’t survive the storm if it’s ire was turned on him.

Midoriya herself, dressed disarmingly in a smart grey suit with a teal blouse, finally brought her gaze to meet his and offered him one of her cheerful grins. It was warm and soft, the kind of thing mothers gave he supposed, not that he had a terrible lot of familiarity with that. The gentleness of the smile did not make him forget the steel of her spine or how she could make that smile turn predatory when the need arose.

“Aizawa-San, it’s lovely to see you today!” She greeted him, standing from her desk - immaculate and clearly organized to the height of perfection - and rounding it to greet him.

He should have anticipated the crushing hug she’d pulled him into, but as always her unwavering cheerfulness had sent him off balance and she’d pressed her advantage before he could regain his senses. She did it with all the staff, with the exception of All Might and Nezdu. Aizawa suspected All Might’s great height - even in his skeletal form - prevented her from pulling him in for one of her crushing hugs. Nezdu, for his part, was a fellow apex predator and therefore exempt from such treatment.

He wished, not for the first time, that Zashi had come with him. He sometimes was able to hide behind the other man when Midoriya Inko started hugging. Sometimes.

Then again, she’d sometimes just sweep the both of them up at once, and Zashi took it as an invitation for a group hug, trapping Shouta entirely.

“Midoriya-San.” He awkwardly greeted when she’d released him. She ignored his discomfort, and moved back towards her desk where a stack of papers waited.

“You’re just in time, I just finished compiling the pre-approved applications for the transfers. Oh!” She paused, turning away from her desk and darting through the door just off her office to the small kitchenette hidden there. He blinked after her, feeling bewildered, and watched as she moved to pull two bentos from the fridge. “I noticed your schedule today didn’t allow for lunch.” She told him, shoving one of the bentos into his hands. “So I thought we could enjoy a meal while we reviewed everything.”

He barely managed not to fumble the container as she dropped it in his hands, whisking off to sit at her desk before he could even think of refusing. He blinked after her, then turned to the bento. The fabric it had been tied into was a soft blue and printed with adorable chibi versions of Hizashi in fully hero gear. It was adorable and mildly terrifying to think she had noticed something in Shouta he thought he’d locked down and hidden away years ago.

“You didn’t have to, I have -” Any protest he might have made died the moment he glanced up and saw the sharp look in her eyes. She was still smiling, but there was a certain gleam of warning in her gaze as she looked at him.

“Protein pouches are not an appropriate substitute for a proper meal.” Midoriya said with the kind of finality that left no room for argument. Not that there would be any. Shouta certainly wasn’t going to be fool enough to pick a fight he knew he couldn’t win - more than once, at least. Especially not when she had that soft, warning expression pointed at him.

Instead he clamped his mouth shut and took the seat across from her, dutifully untying the knot in the colorful bento wrapping at her warning glance. Inside he found onigiri made to look like cats tucked in with a variety of protein rich, healthy foods and some apple slices cut to look like bunnies.

It was adorable.

How she managed to find time to make him something so elaborate and cute while balancing care for Izuku and Tenko, the running of the school and keeping up with Nezu while also being constantly vigilant for her villainous estranged husband was beyond him.

“Now there were a number of transfer requests made to get into 1-A” Midoriya began, glancing over the documents on her computer after she had ensured that Shouta was indeed eating the food she’d given him. “About two hundred total. Most of them were sifted out due to grades and overall performance which brought it down to sixty-two. From there we accounted for teacher evaluation to whittle it down to a more reasonable seventeen.”

She pulled up a list, tilting her screen to better show him the names and pictures of seventeen promising first years. Hitoshi, as expected, had made it through the initial two stages of the transfer process. Just two more stages to go.

“Interviews have been scheduled to speak to their classmates, friends and family. Nezdu suspects will have only seven or eight remaining afterward those have been conducted.” Midoriya explained, casting another warning glance at Shouta to ensure he was still eating the lunch she’d prepared for him. He dutifully began digging into a Tsukune. Satisfied, Inko unwrapped her own bento and allowed Shouta to review the short bios of the students as she ate her own lunch.

Each student he reviewed gave the impression of a serious hero course candidate. A class full of good students who hadn’t made the cut initially due to a system biased against their quirks. Nezdu expected nearly ten of them wouldn’t make the interview process, and Shouta didn’t doubt the principal’s estimate, he was rarely wrong about such things. Usually there were only three or four remaining after the interviews, it was an unusually adept group that year it seemed.

After the interviews would be the practicals, followed by the faculty review of those remaining. Despite his personal interest, Nezdu had permitted him to remain on the faculty board to judge the students, confident in Shouta’s ability to remain objective.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Midorya said, breaking him from his thoughts. He watched as she set her lunch to the side and turned her attention to one of her desk drawers. “Izuku gave this to me to pass along to you. He was worried he wouldn’t have the chance otherwise with midterms coming up.” A plain file folder was held out to him, innocent looking.

Shouta squinted at it suspiciously. “He could have brought it in during my office hours.” He said, reaching for it anyway. He’d started calling Midoriya Izuku Problem Child in the first couple days of class, but in no way was the boy actually a troublemaker. Only over eager and overpowered with no sense of self protection. He was a good student, though, and a good kid from everything he’d seen and everything Hitoshi had told him. Not one he’d expect to use a go between for passing notes on to his teachers.

Midoirya Inko gave one of those knowing smiles that put Shouta’s hair on end. “I think he wanted to avoid taking any of your time that could go to other students for something that isn’t related to his own school work.”

Shouta blinked at that, then flipped the folder open and blinked again.

“Are these -?”

“Recommendation letters, yes.” Midoriya said, smile growing bright at Shouta’s bewildered expression. “Hitoshi-kun mentioned they’d help him during his application for the hero course so Izuku got some put together for him. I wrote one of my own, and All Might was similarly happy to make a recommendation based on what he’s seen of Hitoshi’s excellent character.”

#My writing #Fic snippet #aizawa shouta #Inko Midoriya #izuku midoriya #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #nezu #mamadoriya #dad for one #all for one #hitoshi shinsou #dadzawa #inko midoriya is a matchmaker #erasermic #inko and nezu are friends #everyone is terrified #izuku and shigaraki are brothers

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bravobeavo · 4 years

Note

“Aw, you’re blushing like a rose.” ft. Eraser and his flustered cockatiel husband

Mmmmmm yes yes, we don’t see enough of suave Eraser - he’s definitely OOC here, but you know how it goes sometimes. Thank you for sending this, @anartisicandautistickunoichi, I’m sorry for how long it took me to respond! Hope you enjoy! <3

For this prompt game!

“Aw, you’re blushing like a rose.”

Hizashi sputtered, feeling his cheeks grow even warmer as he huffed defensively, “Can you just focus?”

“I am focused.” Shouta leaned forward onto the table between them and let his eyes go half-lidded, “I don’t think I’ve looked away from you all night.”

Hizashi swallowed and took a sip of his water as he tried to will away the flush on his face, “We’re supposed to be under cover.”

“Yeah, as a happy couple,” Shouta agreed with an easy shrug, “Which we happen to be.”

Hizashi couldn’t disagree with that as a smile pulled at his lips, but before he could even argue the point a voice crackled to life in his earpiece.

“Need I remind you, Eraser, that this isn’t a private date.” Tsukauchi sounded torn between exasperation and amusement, “Do you still have eyes on the target?”

“I have eyes on the target,” Snipe responded through the same channel, his tone steady, “Just ignore the lovebirds.”

“We need Eraserhead to neutralize his quirk so that the arrest goes smoothly,” It was clear from the detective’s tone that he was rolling his eyes.

“We’ll be ready, just give the signal when you’re ready.” Hizashi reassured their colleagues quickly,

Shouta smirked, not taking his eyes off of his husband as he watched the blonde scan their surroundings, “I assure you I can do my job and admire how gorgeous my husband looks tonight, detective.”

“Shouta!” Hizashi’s blush, which had finally mostly faded, returned full force as his jade green eyes widened and he stuttered out an apology.

It was true though, the voice hero looked impeccable in his tight, burnt orange turtleneck and leather jacket. His hair was loose around his shoulders save for a intricate braid that fell by his left eye - Shouta’s eyes tracing the lines lazily.

He looked so good it was distracting.

Tsukauchi sighed and dismissed the blonde’s embarrassed mumblings, “I thought you of all people would be more reserved, Eraser.”

“Normally you’d be right, but you interrupted a very special night to call us in on this case.” Shouta responded without a care, tilting his head as Hizashi gave him a soft look.

“Special night?” Tsukauchi repeated, the confusion clear in his voice.

“Aw, hell,” Snipe audibly slapped his forehead, “I can’t believe I forgot about y’all’s anniversary!”

“Your anniversary?!” The surprise was clear in the detective’s voice, “You accepted a last-minute mission on your anniversary?”

“Snipe told us there were no other options,” Shouta responded, giving his blonde husband a slight pout as Hizashi tried to look anywhere but at the dark-haired man.

Snipe gave a sheepish chuckle, “Alright, I might’a pulled your leg a bit there, fellas. I could’ve called Midnight.”

Hizashi gave an offended gasp that the erasure hero knew was partially mocking and partially genuine, “We weren’t even your last resort!”

Shouta gave a sigh, interrupting their brief squabble as he pushed away from the table, “This is taking too long.”

“Shou? Shouta?” Hizashi scrambled to follow him, pausing when the erasure hero began to pull at his capture weapon that was hidden beneath his heavy black coat.

After a short-lived struggle and a few choice curses, the target was left sitting on the restaurant floor with his arms bound to his sides and his mouth blocked by grey scarf that muffled his angry words.

Hizashi had watched the quick fight with a familiar expression, one that made Shouta want to grin and preen with pride.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Shouta looped an easy arm around the blonde’s waist and tugged him close enough for their hips to bump, “We have plans to get back to.”

Tsukauchi gave a few flustered protests, “I’m- you can’t just leave, we need a formal report!”

“I’ll send it in the morning,” Shouta responded before removing his earpiece and discarding it on one of the tables they were passing as other uniformed officers rushed in past them.

Hizashi gave him a look out of the corner of his eye and bit his lip, “You’re being awfully insubordinate, babe.”

Shouta gave the blonde a lop-sided grin, “I have good reason to, handsome.”

He chuckled as the voice hero’s pink cheeks darkened yet again, squeezing the other man’s hip lightly and tugging him out the door.

#anartisicandautistickunoichi #ask #ask prompt #erasermic #drabble #who were they after? no idea heh #did this flow? i hope it flowed oanfoiadjoifjd sometimes it's like idk what i'm doing

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter. Unless you count Mineta ig

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 7/16 (all chapters)

“And the villain came towards me...he was so much bigger than me! I thought I was going to die!!

You scribbled notes on your clipboard.

“Interesting.”

It was now two days after the USJ incident and UA had reopened its doors. Its students had returned to classes as normal and they weren’t the only ones. You had spotted Shouta limping through the corridors and taking classes, as if his arms were not still in casts.

You were grateful now more than ever of your incredibly busy schedule, for you didn’t get a chance to stew in your own thoughts. You had taken each member of 1-A in for trauma counselling, going over the incident and getting a feel for their coping mechanisms. They were stronger than you’d given them credit for, with most requiring nothing more than a feelings diary and follow up appointment in a week’s time.

Their reactions to this had varied widely. Iida, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu asked if there was a word count requirement. Bakugo made no secret of the fact that he thought it was bullshit. Uraraka and Midoriya seemed weirdly excited about it and promised to do their best.

The final student to arrive in your office was Mineta and he had spent most of the session asking for a hug. You were familiar with his type and well prepared. Every time he reached towards you, you pushed your tissue box further across the table and into his open arms.

“Now, Mineta,” you said, picking up the final journal of the set, “I have a very important task for you…”

From the expression on his face, anyone would have thought you had given him the world.

“Of course!"

“This is a feelings diary,” you said. “I’m going to make an appointment a week from now, where we can go over everything, but until then I’d like for you to complete this. For the next week, every time you feel a negative emotion, like fear or anger or anxiety, I’d like you to write about it here. See how there are sections for location, time and what’s going through your mind? You don’t have to worry about filling every box, but it’ll help us make the most of our time together.”

“Anything for you, Miss (Last Name),” said Mineta, holding the book to his chest as if you’d handed him the holy grail. “But...I do have one request.”

“Oh?”

“Please cheer for me at the sports festival!”

Regardless of their reactions to the session, almost every member of class 1-A had asked for you to cheer for them at the sports festival. You had agreed each time, more than a little bit touched that they would think to ask.

“Of course!”

You were sure you spotted Mineta raising the journal you had given him to his nose as he left the room and you let out a sigh, getting up from your desk to pour yourself a glass of water. Getting through your meetings with 1-A had taken up most of your day and you were grateful for a moment’s peace and quiet.

The silence didn’t last long, though, for someone knocked at your door only a matter of minutes later.

“Come in,” you called out, wondering if one of the students had forgotten something. Perhaps they had further questions about the task you’d given them.

The person who came in, however, wasn’t from 1-A. They weren’t even from the hero course. It was one of the students in general studies and you searched your brain for his name. You had certainly seen his file, but couldn’t remember why it stood out to you so much.

What was it?

Oh! That was it!

Shinsou

He still stood in the doorway, examining your office in curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure if you were open…”

“Of course! Take a seat."

He obeyed, flopping down into the chair opposite your desk and sitting in silence. You had seen his type before too- the ones who reached out for help, but needed some degree of coaxing to vocalise their problem.

“Candy?” you asked, holding out the bowl of hard boiled candies you kept beside your computer monitor for such occasions.

He reached in and picked out a sour cherry, though didn’t eat it, instead turning it over in his fingers as he stared at the floor.

“Is it true,” he said at last, “that if we make an impact at the sports festival...we can change classes?”

“Were you thinking of swapping?”

“I guess.”

You clapped your hands together, turning to your computer.

“There’s a form we need to complete together,” you said, loading up the file. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes.

He shrugged and unwrapped the candy.

“Whatever.”

He mostly nodded his way through your questions, crunching at the candy every time you filled out a box. He seemed dismissive of the choice he was making, though you got the impression he was anything but. In many respects he reminded you of Shouta.

“And that’s that,” you said, reaching for your stamp and putting it to paper. “Give this to your home room teacher as soon as you can and they’ll make the relevant arrangements.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the paper and folding it in half.

He didn’t move for a while, running his fingers over the paper as if unsure that it was real. Finally, he got to his feet and snatched up another candy from your bowl, this time sour apple. He unwrapped it and turned to the door, though stopped before he could reach for the handle.

“Um,” he said, “that is…”

He took a deep breath and gave you an overly formal bow.

“Pleasecheerformeatthesportsfestival.”

With that, he hurried out of the room, shoving the candy in his mouth as he closed the door behind him.

You watched the door for a short while after that, finally giving in to laughter.

You hadn’t fully agreed with Nezu about holding the games, but at that moment you felt you understood his decision better.

You couldn’t wait for the sports festival; couldn’t wait to watch the students you had come to know give it their all. You promised yourself you would cheer for them -all of them- until you had no voice left.

You only hoped your feelings would reach them.

_______

That evening, as you cooked dinner home alone, Hizashi went to see Shouta. You had been more than happy for him to check in on him in your stead, still overcome with guilt at the kiss. Not to mention that there were certain aspects of his recovery that were inappropriate for you to help with, much like today.

Hizashi whined as he rifled through Shouta’s bathroom cupboards.

“Unforgivable,” he whispered under his breath, to which Shouta groaned.

Hizashi was in the process of helping him wash his hair, an offer Shouta protested more than once, only to give up and stare into space as Hizashi sat him down on a stool at the bathroom sink, draping a cape over his shoulders as if the pair of them were at a salon.

“I can forgive a lot of things, Eraser,” said Hizashi, turning to Shouta with a heartbroken expression and numerous identical bottles in his arms, “but this?”

“They were on sale,” shrugged Shouta. “I stocked up.”

“These are 3-in-1! Shampoo, conditioner and bodywash? It’s like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“I am doing it on purpose. They’re cheap.”

Hizashi shoved them back into the cupboard, rushing over to the bag of products he’d brought with him. He had only brought the bag because it had a portable shower head. He’d never dreamed he would have to bring out the big guns.

“Let’s see,” he said, picking through the bottles within. “I think...this one.”

He planted it onto the sink next to Shouta and fixed the shower head to his tap. Shouta leaned over to read the label. Magnolia Sunrise . He recognised it, but he wasn’t sure where from.

He flinched as Hizashi turned on the tap and fiddled with the temperature, though closed his eyes the second water ran through his hair. It was soothing, but he’d never admit it.

Hizashi took in his relaxed demeanour and smirked, thinking how ridiculous this might look to an outsider. He switched off the water and gathered a little of the shampoo in his hands, working it up to a lather and then reaching towards Shouta’s hair.

“Eraser,” he said as he massaged the shampoo into his scalp.

“What?”

Hizashi had wanted to take care of his friend, that much was true, but he’d be lying if he said that was the only reason he had gone there. He had agreed with Nemuri not to act until after the sports festival, but a lot could happen in two weeks. He still believed you to be Shouta’s rebound and feared that if you checked in on him too much or spent too long at his house, the rejection would hit you far harder when it inevitably occurred.

Not only that, but he still didn’t know anything about the mystery woman, which bothered him far more than he would ever admit. He had known Shouta for half of his life and up until recently would have insisted he knew just about everything about him.

It was a long shot, but he hoped that if he asked the right questions, Shouta would reveal everything of his own accord. Not only would Hizashi be able to use the information to track down the girl, but it would also make him feel better about not knowing she existed. He couldn’t believe that he had missed out on such an important development in his friend’s life. He had always believed that he would be involved in every step of the journey if Shouta ever developed feelings for someone.

“Do you ever think about...dating?”

“Dating?”

“Yeah, like going to mixers and things, picking up dates.”

“Not really,” he said. “Why?”

“No reason,” said Hizashi, turning on the water again. “Y’know...it’s just that we’re at that time of our lives where people start thinking about that sort of thing. Even Nemuri talked about going to speed dating not so long ago.”

“Dating takes time and I don’t have much of it,” shrugged Shouta. “It doesn’t make sense to burden someone with a relationship when I’m not going to be around a lot of the time. And that’s assuming they’re not as busy as I am. If we were both busy, we’d never see each other.”

“But what if they were super special somehow,” said Hizashi, thinking of the triple breasted woman at Ego . “What if…what if you met them and knew they were the one?”

“I dunno. Why? Are you thinking about dating?”

Truth be told, Hizashi thought about dating a lot. He wanted someone to spoil with gifts and serenades, someone he could gush about on his radio show. He wanted someone he could sing with in the shower after fucking them in it.

“No,” he said, rinsing Shouta’s hair. “I just wondered, you know.”

Shouta didn’t say anything to that and he continued to wash his hair in silence.

“Eraser.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about (Name)?”

Shouta cracked open an eye, wondering about Hizashi’s motives. He had taken care not to drop hints at anything that had happened between you, though wondered if he hadn’t been careful enough.

“She’s a capable guidance counsellor,” he said. “Why?”

“N-no reason!”

Hizashi continued to wash his hair in silence. He hadn’t expected him to divulge anything, yet felt disappointed anyway.

“Now,” he said, “time for conditioner...and then we can go straight on to blow drying!”

“No funny business.”

Hizashi feigned innocence, as if he hadn’t brought curlers, making the most of Eraser’s inability to stop him.

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Mhmm.”

__________

While Hizashi put rollers in Shouta’s hair, you sat up in the bath to reach for your shampoo.

Magnolia Sunrise.

The same shampoo that Shouta had seen on the morning of the reset.

_________

The games began two weeks later and you could barely hide your excitement. You had seen how hard the students were working for their futures and how proud their teachers were in turn. You couldn’t wait to see the fruits of their labours.

You had only ever seen the games on television and being on site was more exciting than you could possibly describe. Within an hour of your arrival, you had already picked up an array of masks and candies, ready to distribute them among your nieces and nephews. You also picked up a few boxes of candied apples. Tensions were running high and you were more than a little aware that it went both ways. Events such as this produced shocking highs and even worse lows. Candied apples wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start.

1-A had gained the eye of both the general public and professionals as a result of USJ. Unsurprisingly, their stadium was the busiest. You were grateful to have a seat in the first place, let alone one alongside the teachers, with a clear view of the action.

The first trial was an obstacle course and it left you on the edge of your seat. You watched in a combination of shock and delight at the incredible improvisational skills of each and every student, so far removed from the kids you had given diaries to.

After the trial, when Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki crashed into the first three, you took a quick bathroom break. You had treated yourself to an iced tea before sitting down to watch the event and, as a consequence of the nervous sipping you had done, needed to pee pretty badly.

You bumped into Nemuri on your way out of the washroom.

Nemuri, much like Hizashi before her, had not only agreed to take a step back from interfering until after the games were over, but knew an opportunity when she saw one.

“Oh, (Name),” she said, “I found you just in time!”

“Is everything okay?”

“I passed Mic on the way here,” she said. “He said he needed your help!”

“He did?”

You knew that both Hizashi and Shouta were providing commentary for the games. You also knew that the commentary stands were quite far away from your current position.

“Yeah, he said it was pretty urgent!”

“I...uh...okay!”

If Hizashi truly did need you that desperately, you probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.

_________

Hizashi, needless to say, had not needed you at all. Nemuri had counted on him being as opportunistic as she was and snatching up the chance to have you and Shouta spend more time together. She had not, however, counted on Hizashi’s objectives being different to her own.

He and Shouta were going through the listings when you poked your head around the door.

“(Name),” he said, “it’s good to see you!”

“Hey,” you said, “need a hand?”

You assumed that, as he had asked for you directly, there was no need to specify that Nemuri had asked you to go. Hizashi assumed that, as you were a kind sort of person, you had come of your own accord.

If you had used different phrasing, perhaps the outcome would have been different.

“No, no,” he said, giving you the thumbs up. “Everything's a-okay, dear listener!”

“Are you sure?”

You wondered why he had asked for you specifically, only for it to turn out to be nothing.

“Positive! Certain!”

“Well, okay,” you said. “Just...let me know if you need anything.”

You left the commentary stand and descended the stairs, the rumble of the next round beginning. The next trial appeared to be a cavalry style battle and you picked up the pace to get back to your seat. Cavalry battles were always fun to watch and you were curious to know how the students would use their quirks.

Unfortunately, you passed Nemuri en route, who had just finished distributing ribbons to the students.

“Ah, (Name),” she said, “did you talk to Hizashi?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Turns out he didn’t need me after all.”

Nemuri cursed under her breath, realising that she had underestimated exactly how oblivious Hizashi could be.

“I just spoke to him,” she said, tapping her earpiece. “He changed his mind...there is something he needs after all.”

“Oh,” you said. “Uhhhh...okay...guess I’ll go back.”

Just like that, you returned to the stairwell, biting back curses of your own every time you heard a crash from outside. You all but sprinted back up the stairs, hoping that whatever Hizashi needed wouldn’t take too long and you would still make it back in time to catch the rest of the cavalry battle.

Hizashi muted his microphone the second you came back.

“(Name),” he said, “what…”

“How can I help?”

Once again, you didn’t mention Nemuri. This time Hizashi panicked, no longer certain that your offers came from a place of selflessness. Could it be that you just wanted an excuse to spend time with Shouta? Would you just keep coming back every time he sent you away? A week ago, he would have loved nothing more than for you to sit with them in the stands, but now he feared the worst. He had to get you away from Shouta and quickly.

“I...um...yes! There is something you can help with! I want some of the...uh...the All Might mochi. Could you fetch some?”

The mochi stand was far from the stadium. The queue for it was at least a mile long. You had observed this yourself when you picked out treats that morning. You took his money, albeit begrudgingly, praying that the queue would have died down now that the second event had started.

Unfortunately, you were out of luck. Everyone in Musutafu seemed to have had the same idea. You watched the television screens as you took your place in line, mourning the amazing view of the action you would have had from your seat.

You decided to buy yourself some of the dango once you got to the front. You needed something to make yourself feel better.

The vendor sold out, though, before you could get even remotely close to the front, the cheers from the arena adding insult to injury.

You trudged back inside, resigned to the fact that you were never going to see the cavalry battle, only for someone to call out to you from a short distance away. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was.

Masayama Akira. Commercial director of the Silver Edge group, an umbrella corporation that owned and managed a great number of agencies in the country.

Your ex.

Success suited him, you considered, eying his tailored suit and Italian leather shoes. He had always dressed well, believing that sometimes the illusion of wealth was enough to cultivate success, but you had been away from him for so long that you had almost forgotten.

“You...you look great,” he said, coming over to give you a one armed hug. “How are things?”

You didn’t look great and you knew it. You were hot and sweaty from running up and down the stairs and then standing out in the sun.

“W-what are you doing here?”

You hadn’t expected to run into him at the festival. Neither of you had attended before.

“I’m here on behalf of the group,” he said, sounding a little sheepish, “officially, anyway.”

“Oh, you wanted to get an eye for future investments?”

“No,” he said. “Actually, I was hoping I’d run into you.”

It was the last thing you had expected him to say and you prayed it didn’t show on your face. You hadn’t committed to his suggestion of going to dinner, nor had you made any attempt to contact him since the day of the USJ incident. You didn’t trust yourself to be around him. The breakup had wounded you and you weren’t naive enough to believe you were healed.

He looked good, though. You couldn’t deny it. You couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked without his clothes; the noises he made before he came; the way he would place his hand on the small of your back in public.

You’d missed him; missed the sound of his laugh and the softness of his kisses. You had caught a whiff of his cologne when he hugged you and every memory you had tried to bury came rushing back. You remembered movie nights; the cooking classes you had taken to become a good wife; the ugly socks and gloves you had knitted for him.

“I know you’re busy,” he said, “but I really would like to take you to dinner.”

“I’d love to,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“How about this week?”

“No good,” you said. “We’re organising internships for the next couple of weeks. What about the week after? They’ll be on their assignments by then and things should have calmed down.”

“Sounds good. Shall we go to the usual place?”

Your usual place was a French style restaurant near his apartment that was almost too bougie, with wisteria flowers growing around its windows and doors. You had to admit, you’d missed their house red.

“Do we still have a table?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

You laughed at that, only to jump out of your skin as a boom erupted from the stadium.

“Shit,” you said, turning back to him apologetically. “I can’t stay, I came to get some mochi for my coworker and there wasn’t any left and now I’m late and-”

“The All Might mochi?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I knew it was popular, but I didn’t expect it to be gone.”

Akira grinned.

“You mean this mochi?”

He lifted his other arm, showing off the distinctive white box with red, white, blue and yellow mochi within.

“Yes,” you said with a gasp, “you’re so lucky!”

He glanced from the box to you before shoving it into your hands.

“Here. Take it.”

“I couldn’t possibly…”

“Don’t think too much about it, we’ll just go Dutch at dinner.”

“I…” you stared at the box. “Okay…”

Your fingers trembled as you took it from him. None of it felt real.

“I’d better go,” said Akira, motioning for the stairwell. “I’ll text you later!”

You waved him off, stomach fluttering. You felt like a high schooler again, having a short conversation with your crush.

You took a deep breath and hugged the mochi to your chest.

“It’s okay, (Name),” you muttered to yourself. “It’s just dinner. It doesn’t mean anything.”

__________

You were still feeling a little giggly when you returned to the commentary stands with the mochi and Shouta glanced from you to Hizashi as you handed it over.

He thought back to the conversation he had had with Hizashi before the games, that he had mentioned your name not too long after he had brought up dating. He considered how enthusiastically you had been to keep coming to the stands, the flush across your cheeks as you handed over the goods, how quickly the pair of you had set up Support Mic .

Just like that, unbeknownst to everyone, Shouta added two and two together and made blue.

_______

A/N

IF YOU’VE READ THIS FIC ALREADY YOU KNOW WHAT’S COMING IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS AAAAAAAAAA

IF YOU HAVEN’T

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

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awkward-tension-art · 4 years

Text

Put on a Show

So @weebsinstash has an incredible yandere!erasermic x reader series go read everything they write, its fantastic

I wanted to play around with the idea too, so i asked for permission on anon lol.

enjoy this full 2,090 words

Warning: yandere themes, yandere!erasermic, League of Villains, fear, mentions of past torture, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, implied Spinner x Reader, kissing, Villain origin story, female pronouns used for reader, (if i missed a tag lmk)

You ran. You ran as fast and as far as you could. Your bare feet hit the wet ground, cursing as you stumbled. Your hands hit the mud, but you didn’t stop.

Even when your lungs screamed.

Even when your muscles burned.

You kept going.

With luck, a razor and your own wits you had managed to escape that hell house. You’d managed to escape from the clutches of your obsessed demons.

At the slight thought of your tormentors, the now healed break in your leg aches all over again.

Keep going.

KEEP GOING.

The woods betrayed you before, but hopefully, the downpour may erase your footprints. A branch latched onto your shoulder and you screeched. Memories of Aizawa’s cruel grasp flooded your mind. You slipped on the wet ground, tumbling down a slight incline.

Dazed, confused and hurt, you ignored your pain and kept going. Desperation and adrenaline kept you going.

Do not stop.

You looked down to avoid losing your eyes to another branch, only to embarrassingly run straight into a tree. Your body fell back, landing harshly on the mud.

You heard a groan.

Trees do not groan.

Fear overran your systems as you slowly, shakily looked up.

In front of you was a man covered in green scales. He looked more like a lizard, than an actual human, but you quickly guessed that was his quirk. But, he wasn’t alone.

A scarred man with piercings. A teenage girl with blond hair. Another man with a mask. And lastly…

You recognized him from the news.

Shigaraki.

The League Of Villains

“What the hell,” The lizard-man hissed, rubbing his head, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

You took your chances.

“Please…” you gasped, looking up at the white haired leader, “Help me.”

It took approximately 3 seconds to be taken from the forest. The scarred man, Dabi you learned, pulled out his phone and called Kurogiri, their method of transport.

Spinner, surprisingly like a gentleman, helped you stand and introduced himself.

Not a second later your vision was filled with black and you were out of the rain.

Out of the cold.

Out of the monsters’ clutches.

Instead, you found yourself in a surprisingly comfortable bar scene. It was warm, bright, and quite homey.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you, his red eyes giving away nothing. The blonde however, hovered, as she began to talk. You couldn’t keep up, exhaustion slowing your mind and mental process. All you managed to register is ‘blood’.

A tall woman spoke up first, “oh dear, look at you. You look like a wet rat.” She inspected you before standing straight, “Let me get you something dry.You can call my Big Sis Magne!”

You nodded, managing a small “thank you,” as she rushed out of the room to come back with a dry towel, draping it over you.

‘Huh, it smells nice,’ you thought, wrapping it around your shoulders, taking in the small comfort. Almost like roses and lavender…

The leader finally spoke up, “Who are you?”

That was the question. That one simple question caused the dam to burst. You broke down, telling them everything. The torture, the abuse, the agony, all by the hands of two supposed heroes. You went over every grueling, painful detail, tears pouring down your face.

They knew of your captors and torture before they even knew your name.

With every word, The league members, especially Dabi, became more and more disgusted and angry. You didn’t even finish when Spinner offered a kind hand for you to hold onto.

“P-please,” you finally managed, “D-don’t send me back…”

Shigaraki scoffed, “Heroes think they can just do whatever they want huh? Well fuck ‘em. Eraserhead and Present Mic want their precious treasure back? Well too bad. It’s ours now.”

Big Sis Magne let out a happy laugh, “Oh good! Another girl! If you ask me, only having Toga around was getting to be too much.” She took your other free hand, “We’re gonna be such a good team, those nasty heroes won’t know what hit them.”

“I can’t wait to make them pay with their blood,” Toga smiled, her golden eyes shining with excitement. Dabi remained silent, but Spinner gave you a kind smile. “What a show it will be! You, coming face to face with those demons, and having us at your back!” The one with the mask, Mr.Compress, finally spoke, giving a theatrical hand wave.

With every word, you felt your shoulders get lighter.

“Now,” The leader, your new leader, spoke up, “Tell me all about your quirk, and those pieces of garbage that hurt you.”

When Shouta and Hizashi returned home, they knew something was wrong. The house seemed...cold. You were not in the living room, nor the kitchen.

They assumed this was one of your bad days. Where you’d sleep until it was late at night, only so you can avoid them.

Quickly, that changed.

The closer Shouta got to your door, the more he felt his gut twist. The air seemed wet and almost humid.

“Hey, are you awake in there?” He knocked, concerned, “I’m coming in!”

When he opened the door, the wet air made sense. Your window was open, rain poured in from the storm outside. The carpet and everything else by the window was soaked, giving the hero a clue that you’ve been gone a while.

“HIZASHI!” The black haired male called out, darting into the room. Desperately he looked around, only to look up when he heard his husband cry out.

“She’s gone! Our songbird is gone!!” He panicked, aiding Shouta in his desperate search. The couple tore apart the house, hoping this was something else. Hoping you didn’t leave through the window.

They hoped and prayed, only for their optimism to be dashed when their search turned up empty.

“We need to go after her!” The blonde hero cried, “s-she could be hurt! She doesn’t know how to take care of herself!!”

Shouta was already preparing to venture outside. He was at the door when he turned to look at his severely distressed husband, “stay here. In case she comes back, I’ll go look for her.”

With that, Eraserhead ran out of the front door of the house, hoping to find you in the woods.

Days became weeks became months. With every passing hour, you felt happier and lighter. Your spirit and soul were healing. It will take time, but you knew you were able to recover. You had escaped, and found a family who would ride or die with you.

You’d ride or die with them.

Spinner was especially kind to you. He was a gentleman, always asking before touching. You spent most of your free time with him when he or you weren’t gone collecting information or searching for members.

You still weren't comfortable going on missions by yourself. Most of the them were with Dabi, Big Sis Magne or Jin, who you’d met shortly after your joining. Despite the short time with them, you felt like you belonged. You helped them, they helped you. You became a part of their family.

They’d even gone so far as to get your cat Mochi back. Dabi simply dumped the kitty on your lap and walked away without saying anything. You missed your feline friend, and now in the league, he gets all the love the villains could muster.

They try to keep sudden loud noises to a minimum. Occasionally a surprise yell or sound would happen, but someone was always quick to jump to your defense.

It was mostly Shigaraki, but he’d apologize begrudgingly.

Even he wasn’t so bad. You had gone with Toga to get him a new controller, and he’s tolerated you ever since (maybe even respect you after you managed to beat him to a quick video game match).

This was your life. This was your freedom.

This was what you wanted.

It’s been hell without you. Shouta and Hizashi were in hell. It’s been months since the eraser hero found your footprints surrounded by others. It’s been months of searching. Months of desperation to rescue you from your kidnappers. That’s the only logical reason for your disappearance.

You were kidnapped.

You needed them. You needed your lovers.

But they couldn’t save you.

Some nights Shouta would wake up alone. He’d be cold and lonely. Slowly he’d walk to your room, and find his blonde husband asleep, holding your favorite pillow.

It stopped smelling like you a while ago.

With every passing day their hope waned. With every passing hour their hearts ached.

Shouta finally broke down one night. When he woke up alone again he wandered to your room, finding Hizashi in his usual position. Instead of being asleep, the blonde’s shoulders shook with muffled sobs and cries.

The Eraser hero sat on the bed and held his husband, not bothering to muffle his own weeping.

This isn’t what they wanted.

The view from the roof was both beautiful and hilarious. You orchestrated a nomu attack, remaining hidden. Spinner was accompanying you. The others were scattered around the city, taking in the chaos.

You remembered those roads and streets. You walked them for so long.

Until those bastards stole you.

Now, with your life in the league, you could stroll down the sidewalk again. You could see the sky and feel the sun.

You could punish heroes for abandoning you. For letting you get kidnapped.

A smile graced your lips. The chaos of the nomu was beautiful.

There was a flash of black in the corner of your eye, and you turned your head. Slowly, your smile grew at the sight of Eraserhead struggling to take down the brutish monster.

Only to have your smile fade when Present Mic saves him.

“Ugh, I hate them.” You growled, “I see them and I hate them.”

Spinner looked up from his spot on the roof. He swished his tail once before following your gaze to your distant tormentors.

“You should put on a show,” he put a hand on your shoulder, “drive ‘em even more bat shit.”

You laughed warmly, the idea of breaking their hearts even more gave you infinite joy.

“Mind if I use you?” You asked, preparing to use your quirk.

With the villains you have gotten stronger. Your quirk was a weapon. A strong, powerful, useful weapon.

You’re the opposite of what Shouta and Hizashi said over and over again.

They can’t tell you that you're weak. Not anymore.

There was a tipped over bus, and that’s where you planted the illusion.

You and Spinner, hand in hand.

Oh this is gonna be good.

When they dealt with the Nomu, Hizashi looked to the bus, and even from a distance, you could see his eyes widen.

“S-songbird!”

You gagged, and Spinner laughed softly beside you.

Shouta looked up, meeting the illusions gaze.

You feared he’d use his quirk, destroying your fun, but he didn’t, at least not in that instant.

“G-get away from her!” The black haired male shouted, his black eyes trained on fake-spinner.

“No,” the illusion spoke, “I think your precious songbird belongs to me.”

The illusion of spinner pulled illusion you closer. The illusion of you looking bashful.

Shouta prepared an attack, jumping up in the air to do so. Hizashi prepared his own quirk, apparently ok with sacrificing your well-being to get you.

You cause fake-spinner to dip fake-you into a deep kiss.

That was apparently distracting enough to cause Present Mic to choke on air, and Eraserhead to stumble and miss his attack.

“Come on my sweet,” fake-you cooed, “let’s go.”

You created one more illusion, covering the two fakes in smoke, making them disappear.

As you finished with your quirk, you rubbed your temples.

Spinner laughed beside you, “m-my sweet! Oh my god you killed me.”

You gave a faint smile, that only grew when you heard Hizashi’s mournful howling.

Spinner and you peered over the edge of the roof, and spotted the two of them breaking down. The blonde was wailing. You swear you saw his fat tears from your position.

Shouta just looked broken. He looked absolutely devastated.

Maybe a long time ago that sight would have hurt you.

You made eye contact with your partner next to you.

“My sweet,” you teased, promptly bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go! Before they hear us!” Spinner tried to shush you, failing with his own giggling.

You nodded and grabbed his hand.

“Let’s go then,” you winked, “my sweet.”

The both of you fled, making your way to Jin and Toga.

You smiled at the sight of them, only feeling happier as more of your family of villains got together.

This is exactly where you wanted to be.

A villain, to make those heroes suffer.

#reader insert #yandere!erasermic #yandere #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #My writing

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cheeriecherry · 4 years

Text

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [5/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 5/9

Warnings: brief descriptions of violence (not graphic), fluff, kissing, boyfriends x2

You’re surprised when his lips touch your own, even though you’d been expecting it. He’s softer than you imagined, warmer, and more pliant. He melts into as the kiss deepens, cupping your jaw so gently you can’t help but feel the tenderness he has for you.

You stay like that for a few moments, close enough to share breath and feel each other’s heartbeats.

When you part, you’re out of breath. His eyes are half lidded, and your shirts are slightly rumpled, but you remain entangled with each other, his forehead coming to rest against your own.

“Can I tell you something, sweetheart?” He asks, soft and quiet.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, smiling. “You can tell me anything.”

He pecks your cheek a couple times, lips trailing down over your jaw. “Shouta’s in love with you, too.”

You’re less startled with the statement than you thought you’d be. Looking back on all your interactions with the man, you’re not sure how you didn’t see it sooner. He showed care for you much in the same way he did with Hizashi, always going out of his way to try and make sure you were okay.

“He didn’t even try to hide it, did he?” you wonder. “I was just that oblivious?”

Hizashi laughs, joyful and melodious. “Don’t worry about it too much. He kept it under wraps in highschool, so it really only looked like natural friendship progression.”

“He’s liked me since high school?”

“Yeah,” he grins, “he had so much trouble talking to you he was so shy. I told him I’d help him get to know you better, since you were my best friend.”

Your heart swells as you think back to your teen years; Hizashi insisting you get to know Shouta, talking him up and telling you what a cool person he was. And you, pushing through the awkward conversations with him because you wanted to make Hizashi happy (only to later find out that he’d been right, and Shouta was a cool person. And a good friend).

“‘Course, I was hella jealous when you started spending more time together. I thought ‘did I seriously just set the love of my life up with another guy’. Because seriously, what kind of teenaged boy does that?”

You listen fondly as her rambles, a habit he’s had since you were kids. Whenever he was excited about something -or just excited in general- he was an endless chatterbox. He could go on for hours if you let him, talking about everything and nothing. Most of the people he knew had expressed some amount of annoyance over it, you knew, but you? You loved it.

“Then finally in our third year, Sho and I had a sleepover and got into my parents’ sake. I...accidentally told him I had a crush on you, too.” He droops ever so slightly, looking sad. “I think he gave up on you after that. Thought I had a better chance than he did.”

You tug gently on Hizashi’s hand, pulling him down to sit on the couch with you. “Honestly,” you admit, “at the time, he would’ve been right. I didn’t realize I loved him the way I did until the three of us rented that shitty apartment together.”

“Oh god, the one above that old dive bar?”

“Yup. I got hassled by some drunk guy on the way up one night, after a shitty patrol, no less. Shouta overheard, and basically jumped out the window to beat the shit out of the dude.” You snicker, “I had to pull him off the guy. Then he ran me a bath when we got in, and made actual noodles for supper, instead of the instant ones we lived off of. Just to make me feel better.”

Both of you are overcome with fondness, thinking about all the little ways Shouta had taken care of you over the years. Hizashi reclines against the arm of the couch, and you scoot closer to lay across his chest, where he drapes an arm over you.

“It...hit us really hard when you left,” he says, turning melancholy, “but it pushed us closer together. It was scary at first, realizing how deep our feelings for each other actually ran, but I haven’t regretted it a single day we’ve been together. Even when we fight, or argue, or just bug the crap out of each other.”

Guilt niggles in your heart, and you push yourself a little harder against him. “A part of me wishes I’d never left,” you mumble, “the sad part, the lost part, the scared part. But I’m also glad something so good came out of it. Is that weird?”

He pets your hair idly, curling the stands around his fingers and stroking against your scalp. “I don’t think so,” his tone is honest and light, “I think it’s important to find the silver lining.”

You consider his words carefully, as you fall into a comfortable silence. With all these feelings aired out, did it mean you had a chance with them? After so many years, and so much grief, was it possible? Did you even deserve it?

Shut up, you tell yourself, I don’t care what I think I deserve. I care about what I want. Who I want.

“‘Zashi, when Shouta gets home tonight…”

“I want to tell him everything. I want...us. The three of us.” There’s worry in his voice, the slightest of tremors, but for once you think you’re less concerned than he is.

“It’ll work out,” you tell him. “If he feels the way you say he does, then it’ll work out.”

Neither of you say anything after that, drifting slowly in and out of sleep, while some strange netflix series plays in the background.

----

You rouse from your slumber when something clatters in the other room. Your mind instantly jumps to ‘break in’ when you see Hizashi still asleep beneath you, but when you move to stand, you find that someone has draped a blanket over you both.

You glance at the wall, surprised to see the hands past midnight. Had you really been out that long? A solid ninety minutes without a single nightmare? You smile down at the blond after you extract yourself from his grasp, brushing his hair off his forehead to place a small kiss there.

Moments later, you find Shouta in the kitchen, dumping remnants of all the leftovers into one frankenstein-esque bowl. You remain in the doorway for a little bit, watching him float back and forth between the fridge and the counter.

He tenses when he catches your reflection in the door of the refrigerator, just for a brief second, easily missed to the untrained eye.

“It’s rude to stare,” he says, devoid of any malice.

You bite back a smile, giddiness rising in your chest.

“I love you,” you tell him.

He startles for real this time, and looks at you with wide eyes, wider than you’d ever seen, with a dusting of pink rises to his cheeks. It’s a good look on him, you decide, storing the image away for later.

“Something happened today, didn’t it,” it’s not phrased as a question. He composes himself after your words have set in, turning back to the atrocity that is his dinner.

“Hizashi kissed me earlier,” you admit, “and then we had a long talk. About feelings.”

“Gross.”

You hide a giggle. “You’re not mad?”

“Hardly,” he shrugs, and you don’t detect any dishonesty. “We’ve talked about it before. Our...feelings for you. I assume he spilled everything?”

“The whole cup of tea.”

“God, you’re picking up on his language habits.”

You laugh for real this time, unable to contain it any longer. Shouta deadpans at you, and shoves his food in the microwave while he waits for you to collect yourself.

Eventually you do, wiping the fainest tear from the corner of your eye. “I can’t believe people think you’re not funny. Your sense of humour is arguably better than mine.”

“Maybe you’re just wearing rose tinted goggles,” he suggests, leaning casually against the counter. “It’s a real thing, you know. When you like someone, you see them as better at something than they really are.”

You roll your eyes and meander over to him. Close like this, you can see that his cheeks are still flushed and his pupils are blown wide. He looks tired, as per usual, but you know he’s alert and that all his attention is on you.

You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his shoulder. “So what do you think?” you ask.

“Of what?”

“Of us. You, me, and Hizashi?” You peer up at him while he thinks about it, a soft crease forming in between his brows.

“Truthfully,” he replies, “I didn’t think it was possible. ‘Zashi and I thought we were good and over you, but the moment you hugged us in the airport, I knew we weren’t. So we talked about it later, after you’d fallen asleep.”

“And?”

“And we decided that we didn’t want to add more stress to your life by asking you to choose between us. If you confessed to either of us, then we’d go from there, but…”

You squeeze him gently, prompting him to look down at you. “Did you never humour the possibility of the three of us together?”

The blush on his face darkens considerably, and he fights the urge to avert his gaze. “I didn’t think it was possible,” he mumbles, “The chances of you liking one of us were already pretty slim, but both of us? I was being logical.”

“You were being dumb.”

You reach up and pinch his cheek, tugging slightly until he grumbles and shakes you off. He catches your wrist as you move, and you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the feeling of his warm hand wrapped around you. A flutter that only increases when he brings your palm to his lips to lay a kiss on it.

You twist slightly, enough to lay your fingertips against his face, gently tracing the scar beneath his eye. “After everything we’ve been through together, how could I not love you both? Adore you both? The two of you, the thought of coming home... it’s what kept me going. Even if you didn’t want me, even if you hated me, just getting to see your faces again...it saved my life.”

He stares at you for a second, more tender than you’d ever seen him. He releases your hand in trade for your face, holding you in place while he stoops down and captures your mouth.

His lips are warmer than Hizashi’s, more plush, though slightly more chapped, and the way he kisses you is nothing short of intense. Years of longing and repressed feelings are poured into it, only emphasized by the way he holds you close.

You clutch at his shirt, pressing back against him with equal fervour. He’s hot and solid, his presence safe and comforting. He’s not much taller than you, but held like this you feel like a doll in his hands, tiny and precious.

You whine when his tongue teases at your bottom lip, asking you, begging you, to return. You part your lips slowly, mouths meshing again so your tongues can slide against each other. He groans then, a low rumble in his chest that you feel more than hear. It stirs a spark of warmth in between your legs, the beginnings of arousal making you tremble beneath him.

“Now, that is a nice sight to wake up to.”

You and Shouta freeze when Hizashi’s voice sounds from the doorway, utterly full of mischief. You suppress a whine when your kiss is broken, settling on a pout instead.

“We were talking,” Shouta says.

Hizashi raises a thin brow, trying his best to keep the corners of his mouth from quirking up. “‘Talking’ huh? Is that what the kids call it nowadays? Because back in our day, it was just called ‘making out’.”

He cheers quietly when Shouta’s face -somehow- becomes even redder, and you avert your gaze to hide a smile. Hizashi at least seems to be in a better mood than before, his earlier stress over your impending doom less visible; shoulders more lax, eyes less frantic. He was still drowsy, you knew, but maybe now he’d be able to discuss it rationally.

Until he says, “You’re taking this surprisingly well, Sho.” and your stomach drops. “Not gonna lie, I’m still pretty messed up about it. No one likes knowing their girlfriend got visited by the elusive Oracle, but if you’re this calm about it then you’ve obviously got a...plan…?”

He trails off, glancing back and forth between the two of you. The guilt and panic in your expression, the desperate anger budding in Shouta’s.

“You didn’t tell him?”

You throw your hands up in surrender, taking a step away from the two of them. “I was getting to it!” you promise, “I was starting with the ‘I love you’s and was gonna end with the ‘untimely demise’ bit.”

“You’re not going to die-”

“Don’t bother, Sho,” Hizashi cuts him off, “we’ve already had this conversation.”

His tone is bitter and sad, biting like venom into your heart, the same way Shouta’s furious expression does. This was why you’d started off with the good stuff; everything bad would have ruined it from the start.

“You’re not seriously going to just walk into your death, are you?” He’s exasperated, and rightly so, but the crack in his voice screams ‘please tell me no’.

You sigh. “I’ll tell you what I told Hizashi. If I don’t face this now, when I have the upper hand, I’m going to be running for the rest of my life.”

“From what?”

“Akuma.”

Shouta freezes. Where the name had meant nothing to Hizashi, it’s struck a chord with him, and you notice it.

“You know the name, don’t you?”

He nods, expression carefully blank.

“Then you understand why I have to do this now, while I have the chance?”

Another nod.

Hizashi looks like he wants to explode, but Shouta gets to him before he can say anything. “I’ve seen the aftermath of Akuma, ‘zashi. People hunted down decades after they thought they’d escaped, their families destroyed. Akuma is unrelenting, persistent, and unpredictable.”

You take a few steps closer to the blond. “And I’ve got a clue about where she’s going to be, and when. Do you get it now?”

Hizashi’s shoulders fall and his posture relaxes, as your plan clicks in his head. “You’re gonna ambush her. God, I feel stupid.”

“Don’t,” you tell him, reaching out to link your fingers together, “it’s hard to think when you’re scared.”

He sighs deeply and yoinks you closer, capturing you in a hug. “We’ll have to work fast, then. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time to plan something as big as this.”

A moment later you feel Shouta’s hand against your back. “We’ll manage. Right now, though, we’re all exhausted. No good to anyone.”

He’s right, you realize. You can already feel the heaviness in your limbs, and the fogginess of sleep beginning to return. The two of them aren’t faring any better, either.

Shouta gives you both a kiss, lingering a little longer than would be considered chaste, and wanders out of the kitchen. You smile as he goes, and once he’s out of sight you turn your attention back to HIzashi.

He catches your face in his hands, holding you fast and firm to nudge his head against yours. “Promise me you won’t ever stop fighting?”

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him happily. “I promise,” you tell him, and it’s one you intend on keeping.

Ten minutes later, the three of you are crammed onto a king sized mattress, limbs entangled, hair in faces, snores in ears. Despite all that, it’s comforting and reminiscent of the way you used to be; carefree and content and so, so in love.

You fall asleep easily.

----

You awake alone the next afternoon, rumpled and groggy, with a mouth that feels like it’s full of cat litter. You crinkle your nose at the sour taste and roll out of bed, stretching on the way to the bathroom. Despite the previous nights’ cramped sleeping arrangements, you feel surprisingly rested. Moreso than you have in months.

Even when you couldn’t remember your nightmares, they still left you waking to a sense of fear and panic. Today, though? Nothing. No extra anxiety, no overwhelming exhaustion, no desire to lay on the couch and do nothing. You felt...good.

In the bathroom, you find a note taped to the mirror. You open it while you brush your teeth, smiling when you recognize Shouta’s handwriting.

‘Y/N,

If you’re able to, try and find Oracle. Get as much information as you can from them. If they’re worried about getting involved with pros, tell them not to. We’re not going to bother them, since they’re not technically doing anything illegal.

I’ll be in contact with some people this afternoon, who’ll be able to help us with Akuma. Hizashi’s going to call in a few favours. We’ll take her down. She won’t get away this time.

Take care of yourself, okay? If you need anything, call me.

-S’

You smile at the note, particularly at Hizashi’s doodle of a cockatiel and a cat (which he’d probably added when Shouta wasn’t looking). If they were going to do their parts in hatching a plan, then you were going to do the same.

You finish brushing your teeth and wander out to the living room, where your phone and laptop are still laying on the coffee table. You check your phone for messages, finding none, and turn your attention to the computer.

Oracle was just a kid. A kid in a beat up hoodie, and a pair of shoes ungluing at the soles. They could technically be from anywhere in the city, but you had a feeling they might be from one of the more downtrodden neighborhoods.

You open a map of the area in an internet browser, singling in on both spots you’d met with the vigilante. As you’d suspected, they were in close vicinity to each other, and within the bounds of the only run down area for forty blocks.

You’d previously met them during school hours, but who knew if they’d be in class today? You best bet would be to check the area out, ask around to see if anyone knew anything, and see what you could find.

----

You feel utterly defeated, sitting on a bench in the dark like you are. A dull streetlight flickers above you, casting strange shadows on the ground. You stare at them, frustrated.

You’d been wandering around the streets for hours, first seeing if you could find Oracle out and about, and when that didn’t work, you’d settled on going door to door. It had been a fruitless effort, in the end. Most people either didn’t know who the kid was, or they hadn’t seen them in a while.

You knew for a fact that some of them had been lying, which was annoying albeit understandable. You were glad that kid had some many people looking out for them, even if it hindered your ability to get information.

Sitting alone like this, you half expect Oracle to materialize beside you, but after a few moments of waiting and no dice, your thoughts begin to drift. First to Shouta and Hizashi, and how their days went, then to the disappointment that was your afternoon. Eventually, you end up on Akuma.

For someone you’d only met a handful of times, she was playing a much bigger role in your life than you expected. While you had been working as her personal assassin, most of her order had trickled down to you through your ‘handler’. He’d been your partner on the mission, a companion to save your ass if you fucked up.

The more you think about it, the more you realize you never actually knew that much about the guy. Despite your close quarters undercover, you’d never had time to be friendly. The underground was littered with eyes and ears, always listening. Becoming too close would have been a liability, so you’d pretended, acted distant and borderline cold towards him, played the part perfectly.

Akuma sniffed him out about eight months before the end of your mission. One too many kill orders ignored, too much information leaked in too short a time period. She caught him in the act one afternoon, and had him trapped in her tar before he could react.

She’d dragged him to the center of the warehouse, calling everyone around. “See this?” she’d said, nudging your partner with her shoe, “this is a mole! Sneaky little hero scum who thinks he can upturn my whole organization.”

You’d watched helplessly as he stared blankly at the floor, eyes shaded black with tar. At that time, you’d only seen Akuma kill once or twice, not fully understanding her quirk or the strength it took to fight it.

You stood there in your little group, unblinking, as Akuma questioned your partner again and again, asking for names and information. He gave away everything; his own identity, the people he worked for, what his mission was, everything. Except you. Never once did he utter your name, suggest the existence of a partner, or give away where you were.

Even when Akuma directly questioned him, he denied it.

He had eventually managed to free one of his arms from the tar, taking a swipe at Akuma using his quirk. He barely grazed the side of her head, and half a second later there was a bullet lodged in his.

And you just stood there, watching. Watching as he hurt, watching as he died. Watching as a wife lost her husband, and two children lost their father.

“Y’know, I think this is the first time I’ve managed to sneak up on you.”

You startle when a voice sounds too close to your ear, jumping away and nearly falling off the bench. Beside you, Oracle snickers, leaning back casually.

“You’re tricky to find, you know,” you grumble, willing your heartbeat to slow down from the scare.

“That’s good,” they say, “Don’t need heroes sniffing around for me.”

“Why not just get a license?”

“And be at the beck and call of a corrupt organization?” they scoff, though their tone isn’t malicious. “No thanks.”

You shrug, and slouch against the back of the bench. They weren’t wrong, you supposed. When it came to morals and humane treatment, the Commission wasn’t much better than a bunch of villains.

“Why are you looking for me, Y/N?” they ask, and you sigh.

“I need more information, about the vision you had.”

“A real disaster, that one. No one believed me when I told them to be on the lookout for Akuma.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Most pros would think she’s too noteworthy to be smuggled into the country. In their eyes, it’s an impossible scenario.” Or too stupid to realize that people can do whatever they want, if they have the right connections and the right amount of money.

Oracle hums, considering your words. “It’s only impossible if someone steps in and takes her down. But what happens when everyone figures ‘someone else will do it’?”

“It never gets done.”

“It never gets done. Inaction is the very reason Akuma was even able to get here.”

You’re both quiet for a few beats, before they speak again.

“While I saw you dying, I took a look around the area. There was a chicken restaurant, with a flyer in the window. That’s where I got the date from.” They fiddle a little with their hood, pushing some loose strands of dark hair back under it. “It’s adjacent to a radio studio. The restaurant is a hole in the wall kind of place, family owned I think, not a chain store.”

“What’s it called?”

“Dunno. I didn’t see the whole sign. There was a picture of a really fat chicken cartoon, though.” They stand up off the bench and stretch, a couple pops coming from their spine. “Now, if that’s all-”

“Does anyone ever survive?”

They pause. “Survive?”

You look up at them sadly, and for a moment you see a flash of compassion on their face. “You see people die. Have your warnings ever saved anyone?”

In a moment, their expression changes to something far more fatigued than you’d ever seen someone so young wear, and your stomach feels like it’s been pumped full of lead.

“I don’t see people die,” they say quietly, “I see the moments leading up to someone’s death. I give people a place, a time when I’m able to, but what they do with that information is up to them. Sometimes they don’t believe me, sometimes they think they can get around it.”

“What about the ones who listen?”

Oracle shrugs, stuffing their hands in their pockets. “Sometimes they end up somewhere by accident, if they’re not paying attention.”

“Please stop being cryptic.”

They roll their eyes. “You need to be cognizant of my warnings, and not take them lightly. You have to be aware and alert all the time. The people who ignore me, or think they’re above dying, or find themselves somewhere by accident. Do you know what they have in common?”

“No,” you hiss, “that’s why I’m asking.”

Bright honey brown eyes pierce into your own, reaching a depth in your soul you never thought possible, and Oracle’s next words shake you to the bone.

“Hopelessness. Guilt, anger, shame, exhaustion, anything that gnaws away at hope like a dog’s chewtoy. In order to survive, some part of you has to want to live.” They shuffle their feet a bit, taking a few steps away from you. “I don’t know what you’re planning to do, and I don’t really care. But if you’re gonna walk right into this shitshow, you have to want to come out.”

They turn on their heel and start walking away, disappearing into the darkness, leaving you sitting beneath the flickering street lamp.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #present mic x reader #erasermic x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #Space Between #we're more than halfway done omg?#i didnt edit this chapter so um #excuse any mistakes #If anyone would be interested in beta reading future stories lemme know

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addercharmer · 3 years

Text

For the second time in her life Izumi was standing outside the gates of U.A for the entrance exam, she wasn't as awed or nervous this time, she knew they would face robots, she also knew that she had a better grasp on her new quirk.

This time she didn't trip on a loose stone as she walked up the path towards the doors.

Testing was being held in the same rooms as before, just alphabetically split instead of by district.

Her room was N through Z, she had taken Nezu as her family name, it had felt right in a way that Midoriya never had.

Her assigned desk was in the middle of a column but at the far left of the room, she walked down the center aisle taking note of the names she passed. Her steps stuttered as she passed Yamada Hizashi, she half hoped that it was Present Mic, the other half of her hoped it wasn't.

Quickly shuffling away, Izumi took her seat and silently waited for the examiner to start the testing.

The test was simple for Izumi, she knew it would be, it had been easy the first time as well. She had been the first one to finish, only taking up an hour of the two alloted. Sitting back in her chair and waiting she took the time to think over a few strategies that would be useful for the physical test.

A loud bell broke her out of her thoughts, the other students started to groan, clothes shifted and shoes squeaked on the floor as they started to move around.

"Students applying for general studies can go home, students applying for business have an hour break, students applying for support have a ninety minute break, and students applying for heroics should please make their way to the theatre." The teacher that had watched over them spoke, directing the students to where they should be.

Izumi wasn't really paying attention as she walked down the hall towards the theatre, she knew the way without having to rely on the signs that had been posted.

It was her lack of attention that had her smacking right into the back of another person, with a grunt at the impact she felt herself rebound off the person and falling backwards.

Izumi felt lucky that she felt herself hit another person behind her as she fell backwards, until a semi familiar voice spoke.

"Whoa there. I never thought I would have a pretty girl fall into my arms before I even became a hero." Izumi closed her eyes in resignation before she looked up to meet the lime green of who would one day be Present Mic.

"Thanks for the catch." She says lightly, not bothering to even try to pick apart his words and ditangles herself from the blonds hands.

"I'm very sorry to have run into you." Izumi bows her head at the dark haired teen she had collided with. When she looked up to meet his eyes Izumi cursed the universe.

"You need to work on your spatial awareness." A much younger Aizawa Shōta tells her.

Her words are stuck in the back of her throat as dark eyes take her in from head to toe. Inspection done, he ignores the squawk from Yamada behind her at his rude words and turns on his heel.

"Villain points aren't the only points." Izumi calls behind Aizawa, she has no idea why she even said that, just that it felt right.

Yamada inhales a quick breath, and Izumi turns to look at him again.

"Nezu Izumi, thank you again for catching me." Izumi introduces herself, she's a little annoyed at having to look up so far at the teen.

"Yamada Hizashi!" He chirps as her, voice just shy of slipping into his quirk.

Izumi nods at him, her face and body language carefully neutral.

"Come on, we are gonna be late." Yamada says again when he gets no real reaction from her.

Izumi falls into step with him as they restart their journey to the theatre. Yamada is nattering away beside her, he's talking about random things and Izumi is lost to most of it.

Izumi breaks off from the blond teen as they enter the theatre, she takes a seat in the back and pulls out the slip of paper that had been on her desk to tell her what testing ground she would be on.

"Welcome students!" Nezu's chipper greeting fills the room, it makes Izumi relax the last of the tension in her shoulders melting away.

"For your physical exam you will be facing three types of robots, each worth between one and three points. You will have an hour to collect as many points as possible. At three quarters of an hour there will be a single robot released, this one will be zero points." Izumi takes a moment to look at the projection.

Under the image of the robot is the number zero and a P. The realization that the robot is 0P as in over powered makes Izumi break out in cackles. The whole room turns to her, she feels a blush rise on her cheeks and hunches down into her seat.

Nezu claps once to get the attention back on him before he starts directing students out to the transport to get to their testing ground.

As the group of hopefuls waits outside of the gate many clustering together to gossip Izumi makes her way to the starting line to stretch, she hadn't gotten full mastery of her whips yet, but she had good enough control of her electrokinesis that she would be able to drain the power from the robots.

A hero that Izumi faintly recalls as FailSafe is standing on one of the pullers by the gate, Izumi takes in a deep breath just to steady herself. To her left she catches a flash of dark hair, she sends a little prayer into the universe that she wasn't in the same grouping as her ex sensei.

"Attention!" FailSafe's voice booms. He waits until everyone is clustered behind the starting line. "Begin." Is the next word from the hero's mouth, Izumi doesn't wait, she runs.

Izumi knows that going for the center of the cityscape is going to get her caught up in a riot of people fighting to best one another. She takes a sharp turn down an ally and runs towards what would be the outskirts of the 'attack'.

It takes her little time to manipulate the electricity in the robots, they shut down with little fanfare. She moves around spiraling inwards as she goes, stopping to pull people out of the way when they aren't paying enough attention to their surroundings.

Izumi loses time, she's still aware of her surroundings, but it's not enough.

The ground rumbles, the zero pointer is now in play.

Izumi isn't really sure what happens, there is a flash of red, then gray, and she's under part of a building much like Uravity had been.

"Fuck." Izumi scouts, she knows that the robot won't actually hurt her, but if she can get a brave soul some rescue points she will. "Help!"

She twists under the concrete, trying to figure out how to wiggle her way free. There's no chance, her left leg is completely pinned and she can feel the hot slick of blood on her skin.

"Fucking…Help!" She called again,she knew that by how slick her left thigh was getting that she was losing more blood than was good for her.

The quiet tap of shoes catches Izumi's attention, it's coming from the direction of her feet that the part of the building is blocking her from seeing.

"My leg is pinned...I can feel blood...just... find a bar of some sort...lever the left side a little...find a rock to support it...and..pull me...out." Izumi pants, her sentence broken by her panic over the blood loss.

The person she was just ordering around gave a short grunt, their footsteps moving away from her.

Izumi is tracking the giant robot, it moves slower that the one she faced originally, by her estimation it will be moments from crushing her when time runs out.

A slide of metal on cement alerts Izumi that her rescuer has gotten back, she finally looks at who it is and is somewhere between elated and horrified.

Aizawa grunts as he pushes down on the rod he had found, an oddly square shaped chunk of debris at his feet.

"Fucking run into me, then give criptic suggestions, and now needing rescue. What the fuck problem female?" Izumi catches Aizawa grumbling, she doesn't think she was supposed to.

"Uh...hurry please?" She pleads. "I'm gonna pass out from blood loss soon." She warns quickly as Aizawa opens his mouth to most likely say something sarcastic.

The piece of the building that's pinning her shifts, it hurts bad enough for Izumi to bite back a scream. The sound of stone on stone registers, and Izumi holds her hands above her head.

The last thing she registers is the scrape of small chunks of concrete rubbing on her shoulders and back, Aizawa swearing extremely loudly and shouting for a medic.

#dad nedzu #female midoriya izuku #time travel #rewound #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shirakumo oboro #bnha #chapter3

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weirdthinkingdragon · 4 years

Text

Unwanted Devotion

Yandere Erasermic x Reader

Warnings of yandere and obsessive themes, and kidnapping (like usual)

I was resting in the cat cafe with my best friend, Adara. She loves cats almost as much as me, and they seem rather fond of us too. I scratched the chin of a long-haired Bombay. Its fur was extremely soft and silky to the touch. They take really good care of the cats here. I should know from working here before. Adara laughed as the tail of a white Persian swiped across her nose. It was a peaceful silence between us otherwise.

“So, anyway, have you got anyone to date yet?” She asked, suddenly speaking up. Why did this have to come up? “Eh, only once, but it didn’t last long since he liked someone better.”

“Ouch. Well, definitely plenty of fish in the sea, huh?” I sighed. “Yeah, but that isn’t really the main focus right now. I can focus on that after my job starts to pay me more. Barely scraping by, but they’re giving me a raise hopefully next week.”

“That’s not a wrong thing to do.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Says the one married to a rich man already.”

“Once again, true.” The bell opened to two men entering. They seem slightly familiar. Adara seemed to recognize them before I did. “No way! Is that Hizashi and Shouta!?” I knew she was about to yell out to them. I tried to stop her by covering her mouth, but she leaned away right before. “Hey, Hizashi! Shouta! Is it really you two!?” Her yelling caused the two of them to turn their heads into our direction. A face of annoyance came over the one with the long black hair. It perked up a bit when he and I locked eyes.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to come to our table, especially seeing the two cats with us. The Bombay of which decided to rest in front of me on the table. That seemed to grab Shouta’s attention. It just looked at him while purring contentedly. He seemed rather surprised. It could be this one doesn’t like many people. Adara sat next to me for the other seat to be empty for the two of them.

“It’s been AGES guys! We really should have kept better touch! How have the two of ya been!?” As hyper as ever Hizashi exclaimed. It startled the Bombay, making their fur puff up, but they still didn’t move.

Adara nodded. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. Surprised to see you guys here. The two of you have been rather busy, huh? being heroes AND teachers now.”

Wait… what? “Wait… they’re teachers now?” She nodded. “Yep. They actually have been for a few years already!” My eyes widened in surprise. “Hah, wow, never expected you to become a teacher Shouta!” He kept his ever so stoic expression. I do however have a growing interest in how he got that scar on his face. Something tells me it might be a touchy subject though, so no bringing it up.

A cream-colored Persian went into Shouta’s lap, instantly getting his black outfit full of bright long specks. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest, and it made Hizashi chuckle at him. Hizashi grabbed Shouta’s free hand closest to him and interlocked their fingers. An odd sense of sadness came over me, but there was also happiness as well. Shouta seemed to be looking around making sure no one else saw. It wasn’t very busy considering it was night and had less than half an hour before closing.

It reminds me that I used to like both a while ago. Of course, now that's definitely off the table. It’s great they stuck towards their heroic desires though. I had to give up from not being able to intern. Same with Adara. Shouta saw where my sight was aimed and tried to pull his hand from Hizashi. “No worries! We can keep it a secret!” Adara piped up.

I smirked at her and looked at them. “What secret?.” She smirks back and that seems to ease Shouta. “Ya should have told me you quit working here! I was tryin’ to find ya months ago! I asked your co-workers when you worked so I could drop by. They refused to tell me!”

“Well, think about it. They probably thought you might have been a stalker or something. You’re not as recognizable without your hair up.” He thought for a moment and nodded. “Ya got me there!”

“Still, really bummed they didn’t even tell me someone was asking for me. We could have met so much sooner!”

“You’re tellin’ me! Well, don’t stop now! Give me your number!”

I laughed at his enthusiasm and gladly gave it to him. He almost too eagerly put my number into his phone. “Might as well give me your number as well.” Shouta piped up. I was rather surprised he wanted it. He didn’t talk to me much back in school. He did often sit by me though. Rather closely too, but there was nothing about it. I shrugged it off and also gave it to him. Adara did the same, but they didn’t seem as enthusiastic about it? Well, she can be rather annoying in her texts. The Bombay demanded attention again by rubbing their head against my hand.

“Anyways, I envy the energy you have Hizashi. You never seem to run out.” I commented.

“I really wish he would. He can never be quiet.”

“Aw Sho, don’t be like that! Ya know you dig it!”

“I really don’t.” Hizashi looped his arm around Shouta’s shoulders. “Baaaabe! Don’t be so meeeeaaan!”

“Quiet down!” He snapped, quickly looking around again. None of the staff were in earshot distance and they were busy starting to sweep and restock things.

“I’d like to ask something if that’s okay,” I said. Shouta looked at me and nodded while Hizashi and Adara were spouting something about music and new slang. He nodded. “How long have the two of you been together? You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal though.”

He seems to think for a moment. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t long after school. We met up again and spoke to each other at times like now when we have the time,” He looked over and “glared” at Hizashi. “If only he could be a bit quieter, but that’s never going to change with his loud mouth.”

“Were ya talkin’ ‘bout me, babe?” Hizashi suddenly asks, gaining attention towards us. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe, maybe not,” A smirk grew on my face. “He’s just saying how much he loves you.” Shouta glares harshly at me with a bit of blush forming on his face as Hizashi quickly pulls him closer. “Aw! How sweet of ya!” Adara laughs at Shouta’s misery.

Hizashi looked at me. “So, y/n, have ya got a lover yet?” I groaned. “Adara JUST asked me that before you two came!”

“We weren’t here then.” I sighed heavily. “No, and I’m not planning on it until my life is more together.” The two of them grew worried expressions. “What do you mean?”

I gave a nonchalant shrug. “Just having trouble with a bad landlord and bills. You know, the usual sucky things of life.” Hizashi looked at me with a small frown. “We could-” I knew what he was about to say, and that’s a definite no. “No. I can’t have you guys do that for me.” I cut in. “But we’re will-”

“Nope! I’ll handle it on my own.”

“Y/n, this is serious. Let us help you before it gets worse. I’d know.” Shouta’s voice turned incredibly stern. It almost made me want to cave in and accept it. No wonder he’s a teacher now.

“Listen, I understand your guy’s concern for me, but I’ll be fine! You both have my number, so maybe just text me something later, and I’ll reach out if I need to.” I persisted. Shouta’s eyes narrowed more. I’ve forgotten how truly powerful this man’s glare was. Yikes.

It felt like hours, though it was only seconds until he finally relented with a nod of his head and the other two let out their breath they were holding.

Adara decided to break the tension in the worst way possible. “Hey, Y/n? Remember when you used to have a crush on-” I covered her mouth before she could finish. “That jerk from school? Yeah, I want to slap my younger self for ever having that damn thing on such a narcissist.” I quickly came up with that lie and glared harshly at her. I could tell Shouta can tell something was a lie.

Adara licked my hand. It took a lot of restraint not to recoil and take my hand away from her mouth. “We better go. Text me later for us to meet up!” I told them, and dragged Adara out the door. I yanked on her long red hair to make her come, and as a little payback. As soon as we got out the door and a little ways away, I let go of her. “What was that about!? You were going to make it so awkward between us four than it already was!”

“Don’t try to deny it! You STILL have feelings for the both of them! I can tell just by the way you look at them!”

“They’re together now! Do you know how bad it would be!? Seriously, they’d never want to talk to me again!” She shrugged. “I don’t know about that. They seemed still pretty interested in you.”

“You’re reading too far into things. I don’t want this to come up again.” I hissed, and stormed away with feeling sheer embarrassment at the utter gall she had to try bringing that up.

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I started to hang out with the two of them in their limited free time. It surprised me they wanted me to hang out with the two of them every time they were free. My little thing I still had for them quickly vanished as I saw their interactions. Now it’s me trying not to physically gush how adorable they are together. Shouta was reading with his legs over Hizashi’s. A cute little habit I noticed of his is him always having to touch Shouta in some sort of way. In public? A “friendly” arm slung around his shoulders. Between us? Holding his hand or even just rubbing his hands on Shouta’s legs. Especially if Shouta is wearing shorts, like he is now.

I didn't want to impede on their connection more and more as my mind focused on it. They don’t need me here. They were sitting on their couch while myself was on the loveseat. My phone was out in front of me while I absentmindedly glanced at the two of them from time to time. The more the thought wandered, isn’t this kinda weird as well? We don’t even really speak at times like this. Sure, the peace is great and all, but… Fuck it, this has to change. Come on Adara. Right now would be a great time to-

My phone started to ring. It was Adara. Impeccable timing! I answered it and stood up to leave the room. “What’s up gir-’

“You need to get away from them NOW!!!” Adara sounded beyond panicked. Panic quickly started to rise in me as well as I glanced at the two men. They didn’t seem any different. I stopped looking before Hizashi and I could lock eyes.

“What do you mean?” I question.

“I fully underestimated just HOW much they love you! My husband was just warned by his friend you’re in danger. You need to leave, and NEVER be alone with them again! No matter how much they ask! Get out now, before you can’t again!”

Okay, that’s beyond concerning. But they’d be caught if they ever did something like that! This can’t be a joke though. She’s surprisingly not one for jokes.

“You’re on a suspect list! It’s free reign if they get you! RUN!”

The fear increased tenfold with her words. I look back at the cou- They’re not there! Flight kicked in, and I started to run towards the front door. My wrist was suddenly grabbed, and my phone is yanked from my hand. My attention snapped forward to Shouta tightly gripping my phone. Tight enough his knuckles turned white as he pressed the speaker button.

Hizashi was standing next to Shouta with a betrayed and hurt expression. His frown deeper than I’ve ever seen it. Shouta isn’t doing much better. “You know Adara, It’s rather hurtful to go back on trying to rekindle our love.” Chills ran up my spine. That doesn’t even sound like Hizashi.

A shriek of surprise came over the phone. It quickly turned to her breathing heavily. She sounded more angry than fearful. “It’s because you two are fucking insane you put them on the suspect list!!” she spat.

“That’s rather hurtful, dear Adara.” Hizashi fully blew off her accusation.

Shouta squeezed it tight enough the screen started to crack. He wasn’t holding my wrist… I decided to run for it. I didn’t even get close to the door when something wrapped tightly around my waist and dragged me back. It was pulled up slightly to prevent me from falling. There was only one thing it could be… Shouta’s capture weapon. He was using his quirk and it only needed one hand. The other still held the phone.

“You’re no longer needed. Stay quiet, and maybe things won’t end bad for you.”

‘Crack’ the phone got crushed.

I was in full blown panic now. Especially the look on their faces. It didn’t take long for Hizashi to hug me tightly. Something wet dripped onto my shoulder. Why is he crying!? If anything, I should be the one crying! “Sho, w-we did it all wrong!” Shouta sighs angrily. He stopped using his quirk, but his capture weapon still was wrapped tightly around me. Including my arms which were pinned to my sides.

“We overheard that night. We were hoping to bring your love back to us by jealousy,” His eyes narrowed as he looked away. “Turns out that was clearly the wrong decision. It only drove you away more.”

Hizashi hugged tighter. “Do-Don’t worry Songbird! We can still fix this! We can make ya love us again!” He turned his head towards Shouta. Shouta walked behind me and hugged my bound form as well. It was so binding to the point it was hard to breathe. I tried to squirm in their toxic grip. The attempt to break free was clearly fruitless, only succeeding in them squeezing tighter like a snake suffocating its prey.

Shouta leaned to be right next to my ear, and let out a satisfied exhale. It being so close to my ear sent another shiver up my spine. “We should have done this much sooner.” Hizashi eagerly nodded as I started to get tired and stopped struggling.

“Ya see! They’re already lovin’ us! Sho, it’s not close enough though!” In the corner of my eye, Shouta nodded in agreement. They released me, but like a leash Shouta pulls me over to the large couch, Hizashi not far behind.

"Hold them." Shouta said, and pushed me closer to Hizashi. He didn't have to be told twice. Shouta quickly used his quirk to undo his capture weapon. They had a silent conversation as I started to squirm again. “Guys, stop this! I moved on, you guys need to as well!”

Their faces turned to delusional obsession. Hizashi sat on the couch, and forced my legs to wrap around his lower back. Shouta quickly ties his capture weapon around my ankles before Hizashi lets go of my legs.

Hizashi then leans against the armrest of the couch as Shouta goes behind me. He puts his legs over Hizashi’s, and leans forward to fully sandwich me.

“No. We’ll make you love us again. We lost ya once, and never again.”

“One way,” He leaned next to my ear again. “Or another.” It didn’t take a genius to know it was a threat… That and him squeezing his legs into my sides.

It was easy to tell I wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere anytime soon…

#Yandere erasermic #x reader #oneshot #yandere present mic #yandere eraserhead

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