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first ever concert

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Totally switching fandoms here and showing off a rare pair I enjoy

I like erasermic as much as the next girl but I don’t mind erasernight or even erasernightmic

Midnight deserved better and I choose to be delusional and pretend she is alive and well

Based on this tic tok meme going around

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Five times Toshinori tries to be a dad and the one time he is a dad

I can't believe I didn't make a post for this when I originally posted this. Anyhoo, better late than never.

I have a solid timeline for the AU I Won't Fail You. I was reading this fic last night and I realised that I included stuff/characters in it that wouldn't align with the timeline I made and followed for the fics that came after this one. So, I edited it and made everything fit the timeline, without changing much.

Maybe this is your sign to give it another read… or to check it out for the first time if you haven’t already 😉💙

Summary:

It's family bonding time!

Toshinori and Tenko navigate being a family. Come along for the ride as they grow close and understand what it means to be a family. Feat. Shopping trip shenanigans, hearty breakfasts, ice creams, therapy (Cuz our boy needs it), and loads of fluff.

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Aizawa and His Ever-Growing Stray Club

A new fic in my series I won't fail you is up!!!

Summary:

Aizawa’s not collecting strays.

They just keep finding him.

Or

Aizawa wasn’t looking to add another name to the list.

Then he met Midoriya Izuku.

P.S. This fic can be read as a standalone. It is a part of a series tho, and you'd better understand the context if you read the series, but it's not necessary.

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Next to you 

A new chapter of my fic Hello, you is up!! Summary:

Shouta is taking the necessary steps to get what he wants.

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Mis-(us)-understandings

A new chapter of my fic  A tired man, his loud neighbour, and their matchmaker kid is out!!

I'm sorry this chapter took so long.

Summary:

The saga of misunderstandings continues... Feat: Shouta — trying to be a good parent and a good neighbour. Izuku — the manner police and mochi-sized peacemaker. Nemuri — chaos bringer, as always. Hizashi — the... well, you’ll see.

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So just to recap: Aizawa

1. Buys ugly clothes for his daughter

2. Is subsequently forbidden (presumably by his husband) from buying her anymore gifts

3. So his workaround for that is to send his son to get things for her instead

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MHA Ultra Age Oneshot

Mr. vice principal😭😭😭

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It’s perfectly normal for you to see Aizawa Shouta and think ‘lazy teacher’ …but that thought should be erased (haha) from your mind soon after you have it. He is, by first glance, a lazy man, but by no means is he a lazy teacher.

This is the man who adopted a little girl who needs more help than a normal person can give, the man who put his life in the way of his students’ impending danger, the man, the teacher who cut off his own leg in order to save them, who pushed past his bodily limits to make sure no one died and he succeeded. He has done so much for his students and it literally cannot be said that he didn’t… just look at his body, the results speak for themselves.

You can have whatever opinion you want, but that doesn’t mean it’s right

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What's going on in that head of yours?

Izuku kept muttering something, lips in a pout and brows furrowed as they watched the movie.

Shouta sighed, shaking his head. He turned to fully face Izuku, taking in the expression on his face. He knew. He could tell. There was going to be a rant—about something Izuku noticed in the movie. It could be something profound or completely pointless.

With Izuku, you could never tell. What you could tell was how into it he got. How excited it made him.

Shouta smiled at the thought. It was one of the things he loved about Izuku.

As expected, Izuku paused the movie and turned to Shouta.

His green eyes widened a bit when he saw Shouta already looking at him, a blush blooming on his freckled cheeks.

Izuku smiled sheepishly. “You already expected it, didn’t you?”

Shouta chuckled. “I could tell by that look on your face. It's the same one you make when you can't decide between the wrap or the burger at McDonald’s.”

Izuku swatted his arm playfully, then got comfortable on the sofa, crossing his legs under him and hugging a couch cushion, sitting fully turned toward Shouta.

“So,” he began. “You know in movies, when the actors are kissing and they tangle their fingers in each other’s hair... how do they focus?”

Shouta quirked a brow.

“Whatever connection you just made between those two separate things, I need you to elaborate on that, sweetheart.”

“Right, yeah,” Izuku laughed. “I mean, if it were me, I'd be focused on the texture of their hair, you know? Like if it’s soft—how is it so soft? What products are they using? Or like, is it a wig? Is it real? Were they born with this hair or do they go through a ten-step routine? Or do they pay someone to do it for them? Like, what’s the deal? Things like that… my brain would be thinking all that for sure…”

Izuku trailed off, and from the faraway look in his eyes, Shouta knew the man had gone off on another tangent.

It was routine at this point. One he looked forward to. One he cherished and loved.

How could he not? When Izuku got so excited his eyes sparkled like emeralds. When his brain moved faster than his mouth could keep up and he’d stammer, frustrated, like an angry little bunny who couldn’t get the words out. When he’d just keep saying “you know” and gesture wildly with his hands. All of it. It was adorable.

“Izu,” Shouta called softly, bringing him back to the present. “I don’t think you’d notice all that.”

“Noooo, Shouta,” Izuku whined. “I will. I know.”

Shouta laughed, low and deep. “Trust me, sweetheart, you won’t.”

Izuku crossed his arms and pouted.

“Let me give you a demonstration,” Shouta said, leaning in.

He hovered over Izuku’s lips, a hair’s breadth away, their breaths mingling.

“Tell me if you’re able to think.”

Shouta’s lips pressed against Izuku’s. He brought his hand up to hold Izuku’s jaw in place while coaxing his lips to yield. He ran his tongue along Izuku’s bottom lip and sucked on it, invading Izuku’s mouth and exploring it slowly, deliberately.

When Izuku tried to pull back for a breath, Shouta didn’t let go. He pressed closer instead, angling their heads to slot their mouths together better.

Izuku’s hands, which had been roaming his back, slid up and tangled in Shouta’s hair—making him smile into the kiss.

Shouta alternated between nibbling at Izuku’s lips and lapping at them. He moaned when Izuku’s tongue tangled with his, sucking on it, nipping, kissing until they were both dizzy with it.

He held Izuku’s jaw and the base of his head firmly, keeping him in place as he took his time.

When he finally let go, they were gasping for breath, like they’d run a marathon. Their lips were swollen, their chins glistening, pupils blown wide, and blushes sitting prettily on both their cheeks.

“So?” Shouta asked, still catching his breath. “What were you thinking about?”

Izuku blinked. “Huh?” he asked, dazed.

Shouta smirked. “I asked what was going on in your head. You know, when I was kissing you.”

Izuku blinked rapidly, coming out of his trance.

“I... that… you know…”

Shouta chuckled and fell back onto the couch.

“Told you.”

He was met with a pillow to the face.

“You!!” Izuku exclaimed, still red in the face. “There’s too many tangles in your hair. Run a brush through it or something!”

With that, Izuku marched off, muttering, while Shouta laughed in delight on the couch.

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Cutest old man ever🥰

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Blues and it's hues

Cross posting on here and AO3.

It has just been one of those days. Nothing really happened, but you cannot say nothing did not happen too.

It’s just…you know…

You trudge back home, dragging your feet, shoulders hunched, a little sweaty from the day’s events, tired from the day’s events and a little dead inside from life in general.

You just want to cry. To yell. To break something.

But, most of all, you just want someone to hold you, to hold you close and tell you that it will be okay. Or not. Maybe you just want someone to stay by you, not saying words that won’t amount to anything, not really anyway.

You unlock your door, throw your bags to the side and collapse on the couch. You don’t care that the cushions under you are not aligned; they are sticking at odd angles under you, but who cares? You’re too lazy to sit up and arrange them neatly.

You know that’s not true. You’re not lazy.

You’re tired.

You don’t see the point in doing so.

That’s not going to make you feel better. It won’t make your life better. Won’t ignite the will to live in you.

So, really, what’s the point?

You sigh, the action ruffling the baby hair at your hairline, and snuggle deeper into the cushions, throwing an arm over your eyes.

The cushions maybe at odd angles, bunched up under your butt, but they’re soft.

Silver linings, you think.

Somewhere, in the dark and quiet of your house, there’s a buzz.

It’s a quiet thing, but in the silent house, it feels too loud.

You don’t want to answer it. You do it anyway.

Because that voice inside your head won’t let you do otherwise.

You roll off the couch and land on the floor with a thump. You crawl on the cold marble and fish out your phone from the discarded bag.

The light of the screen assaults you in the dark. You blink your eyes, your brow furrowing, and a curse slipping out of your mouth.

Who the hell is it anyway?

The annoyance turns to a soft warmth, your frown rights itself into a smile, and a little life comes back to your eyes.

“Zawa,” you breathe into the phone.

“Are you home?” he gets straight to the point.

You laugh quietly to yourself, you know him, he’s always been this way. The familiarity calms something in you.

“Yeah, got back a while ago,” you answer, curling into a fetal position on the floor.

The marble is cool under your skin, and somehow the hard stone feels better than the soft cushions of the couch.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

The call ends with a click, and you let your phone drop from your hand and just lie there.

You’re not dozing off. You’re not awake either.

You’re just existing. That’s all. That’s the best way to describe your presence at that moment.

Maybe even your presence in the world.

But you don’t want to think about that now. You curl in on yourself, hugging your knees.

You feel cold all of a sudden, it’s not the marble under you. It’s something you can’t name.

It doesn’t matter. You know it’s there.

You don’t realise that time has passed, not until you hear the door being opened.

It doesn’t make any sound as it opens, but it lets in the sounds of the city outside. Sounds of people living and going about their lives, and you realise yours is too quiet.

Aizawa comes in, dressed in his usual black jumpsuit and grey scarf. He had bags of food in his hands. The smell hits you, your nostrils flaring, and your stomach lets out a growl.

You wish it didn’t, but when has your body ever listened to you?

Aizawa switches on the night light. Even with it on, the house is still dark, but it doesn’t seem like you’ve been staring into a void anymore.

Aizawa sits on the floor next to you. He doesn’t say anything. You’re thankful for that. You don’t think you have the energy to carry a conversation.

No. You don’t think you could even listen to anyone. Even that sounds tedious.

He sits against the wall and stretches out his legs in front of him. His fingers find you, and they gently caress the side of your head.

It’s warm now.

You feel your lips quirk up, and you snuggle into yourself, making yourself comfortable.

You don’t want to ever move from where you are, but your hand is numb. So is your thigh.

You try to hold it in. Ignore it.

But again, when has your body ever listened to you?

You wiggle a little, hoping the action will be enough to make you feel better.

It’s a mistake. Now there are pins and needles shooting all over your side.

You sit up, your breath coming out in a forced exhale.

Aizawa chuckles, his fingers falling from your head and coming to rest on your shoulder.

He taps twice. It’s a gentle nudge, you recognise it.

You oblige, sitting up, facing him.

He regards you calmly, his eyes scanning your face. It’s dark, but that never deters Aizawa. After all, he knows you like the back of his hand.

He hums with a quiet nod, finding whatever it was he was looking for.

He removes the container of soup from the bags and hands it to you.

It’s warm in your hands, but not as warm as the presence next to you.

You scootch back, leaning against the wall, your shoulder pressed against Aizawa’s, your legs stretched out in front of you, touching his.

He presses close.

His touch is warm and heavy, and you recognise it for what it is. A silent support.

He’s the rock that steadies you. The one you are holding on to, so you don’t get swept away by the storm.

Aizawa is unyielding, offering his silent strength to you whenever you waver.

Tears prick at your eyes. You blink them away and eat a spoonful of soup.

It’s tasty. Of course it is, Aizawa did get your favourite one from that restaurant you love down the street.

He knows. He remembers.

That fact makes the churning in your stomach settle, more than the soup could ever.

You finish it all up before you know it. Your stomach and your heart, both a little fuller than they were a little earlier.

It almost seems foreign. Like you’ve forgotten what it feels like.

A warm hand pats your head. It’s warm. It’s heavy. It’s comforting.

And under that weight, you break down.

Tears spill from your eyes, and sobs rock your frame.

Aizawa gently pulls you close, tucks your head under his chin, your ear next to his heart, and his arms around you.

Now, now you feel like you’re home.

You smile through the tears, but the dam broke, and the tears don’t stop.

You let it all out.

Aizawa lets you.

All throughout, he is there, holding you close, rubbing your back, pressing soft kisses at your temple.

There are no words exchanged, no assurances that everything will be fine, no promises of better things to come.

The only thing present is a steady, unyielding presence.

One that anchors you. One that you know will be there always.

Aizawa is the beacon that guides you back home, even when you’re in the eye of the storm; he’s the light that pulls you through.

You smile at the thought. The tears have dried up on your cheeks.

Aizawa’s shirt is covered in tears and snot alike.

Your face flushes, but he brushes it away, already knowing where your thoughts are headed.

He cups your face, tilts it up and looks into your eyes.

Aizawa’s eyes are pools of black, but they hold so much love and warmth in them, you don’t mind taking the leap.

You smile, and this time, it reaches your eyes.

You see that reflected back in Aizawa’s face. He pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead.

You’ve never felt so light.

He hugs you tighter, rocking back and forth, as he hums a tune he’s sung countless times.

Your lungs expand, finally able to take in a proper breath, and your chest doesn’t feel like there’s someone sitting on it.

The smile on your face doesn’t leave.

You make yourself comfortable in Aizawa’s arms. There’s a soft patter against the windows, as rain picks up outside.

The house isn’t so dark and cold, and quiet anymore.

You don’t feel so tired and alone anymore.

You lean your head against Aizawa’s shoulder, as he runs his finger through your hair, and you are lulled to sleep.

The last traces of heaviness and darkness slip away as you drift further into slumber.

This is what you needed.

Someone to hold you.

So, you’re not cold anymore.

The next morning, when you wake up to the sunlight shining on your face through the windows, there’s a smile on your face. The day doesn’t feel so gloomy, there’s no chill in the air.

How could there be? When Aizawa is right there, next to you, his arm around you.

And maybe tomorrow will be hard again.

But today, you're held.

You're warm.

And for now, that’s enough.

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It was that time

This was funnier in my head

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A step closer

A new chapter of my fic Hello, you is up!!

Summary:

Shouta is out to get what he wants. One step at a time, and with lady luck on his side.

This is the image from the chapter/the mail Shouta sent to himself. (The previous one was not good. So, I made a new one. I deleted that. This is the new one.)

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This guy sends his regards 🖤

Comfort charactered so hard he attended my dad's funeral

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Hot professor Shouta!! These are sooo cool!!! 💜🥺✨

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I absolutely adore this!!! ✨💜

Art by nel