#aizawa shouta head canons

[kywaslost]

hey :) an idea for a oneshot/fic has been on my mind for a while, student reader in 1A gets kicked out from home and is homeless, aizawa realised something is up with one of his students and makes reader admit what’s going on, happy ending? (please i’m begging)

Happy Endings - Aizawa Shouta

A/N: This has been sitting in my inbox for lord knows how long and I’m so sorry. I turned this into hc’s since I haven’t written for BNHA in a long time. Idk, I kinda just lost interest and stopped watching. I need to catch up. Maybe then I’ll get back to writing for this fandom. I hope this is ok.

It wasn’t too hard to notice a change in your behavior

Aizawa is an extremely observant pro-hero

And he cares for his students more than he’d let on

So of course he noticed when you showed up in a slightly dirty uniform as opposed to usually wearing clean ones

Or when your hair isn’t as clean or neat as it used to be

Not to mention the bags under your eyes that were never there before

So the man asks you to stay after class one day so he could check up on you

It doesn’t take much prying for him to learn that your parents had kicked you out and you had no one else to stay with

Needless to say he was infuriated

And you were afraid upon seeing his eyes glow red and his hair raise, but only for a moment

Aizawa has a strange calming aura around him

Immediately assures you that he isn’t upset with you, just with your so-called ‘parents’

Dismisses you for class

But oh buddy that’s not where this ends

He finds you after school, Present Mic not far behind him, both dressed in civilian clothing

And that’s when they offer that you stay with them, just until UA finished building their dorms

Best offer you could have ever accepted, considering you literally didn’t have anything to lose

They even make sure to make your favorite food for dinner, just to put you at ease

And you may or may not have seen your old parents on the news next morning, found unconscious in the middle of the biggest and most popular park in town

#comfort #x reader #platonic #bnha #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa sensei #aizawa #aizawa x reader comfort #dadzawa #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha aizawa #eraserhead #bnha comfort #bnha fluff #aizawa shota x reader #platonic aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta head canons #shouta aizawa x reader

[soopjoy]

It was the Birthday of two of my Best Friends in August, @/ivorylungs and @/ghostalebrije, pls say HBD to them even if belated 😭💖💖 I love them so much!!!

Transing their faves for their bdays 🥺💖 (and I am also a huge fan of Trans Mic djsmgjdn) 🏳️‍⚧️💖

#present mic #bnha #mha #yamada hizashi #my art #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #aizawa #erasermic #eraser head #suggestive #trans mic is just canon at this point tbh

[creativesplat]

I had to draw Aizawa’s emo shirt that appeared in one panel. 

#This shirt has been living in my head rent free #I wish I had the courage to wear a shirt like this its awesome #is it white with black stripes or red with black stripes? I have no idea so I did both :) #its so emo! #also Aizawa having old scars canonically... just #I don't know what it is about capable role-models in fiction who have mental health problems but it really resonates #anyway #aside from that #this boi has an emo fashion sense and I love it #tw old scars #tw mentions of self harm #aizawa shouta #shota aizawa #apparently it can be spelt both ways which way should it be?? #eraserhead #mha #bnha #also dadzawa with little Eri melts my heart

[metablood]

Aizawa mysterious injury (En/Fr)

In English

I have this idea...

That one day Aizawa appeared in the teacher's lounge sporting a black eye and a brocken collarbone. His arm tucked in his own capture weapon, he explained that Recovery Girl wanted him to have more sleep before she heals him.

As Aizawa pours himself a glass of water and take his pill, other teachers prey on Present Mic to get more informations. He won't budge.

Aizawa made him promise not to tell, and Yamada has the intent to use his secret as leverage for later... You never know when you are going to need a favor from Eraser Head!

The truth is Recovery Girl is outraged by the way he hurt himself and is now pestering him about his lifestyle. "You cannot go on patrol every night with a day job ! Naps and coffee are not a substitute for proper sleep !"

Hizashi laughed so much his ears are still ringing... One could expect more support from the love of one's life.

Other heros don't dare ask the terrible Eraser Head what happened, they know how reckless he can be in battle.

They should never know that he was simply too sleepy coming back from a patrol, so he tripped and fell in the stairs. The next step would me Midnight calling him "grandma" and urging him to be careful not to slip in the showers...

En français

J'ai cette idée…

Qu'un jour Aizawa est apparu dans la salle des profs avec un oeil au beurre noir et une clavicule cassée. Son bras calé dans sa propre bande de capture, il a expliqué que Recovery Girl refusait de le soigner tant qu'il n'aurait pas dormi.

Alors qu'il se sert un verre d'eau pour prendre un médicament, les autres profs se précipitent sur Present Mic pour gratter plyus d'informations. Il refuse de céder.

Aizawa lui a fait promettre de ne rien dire, et Yamada a bien l'intention de garder le secret pour s'en servir plus tard… On ne sait jamais quand on aura besoin d'une faveur d'Eraserhead !

La vérité, c'est que Recovery Girl est parfaitement outrée par la façon dont il s'est blessé et à présent elle le harcèle au sujet de son mode de vie. "Tu ne peut pas patrouiller toutes les nuits alors que tu as aussi un emploi de jour ! Les siestes et le café ne sont pas des substituts à une vraie nuit de sommeil !"

Hizashi a rit aux larmes, ses oreilles sonnent encore… On pourrait s'attendre à un peu plus de soutien de la part de l'amour de sa vie.

Les autres héros n'osent pas demander au Terrible Eraserhead ce qui est arrivé, ils savent combien il peut être brutal durant la bataille.

Ils ne doivent surtout jamais apprendre qu'il est simplement rentré trop fatigué d'une patrouille, a trébuché, et est tombé dans l'escalier. La prochaine étape serait que Midnight l'appelle "grand-mère" et l'enjoigne de faire atention à ne pas glisser dans la douche…

#aizawa hcs #aizawa shouta #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #eraser head #eraser head canon #en français #minific #Metablood Minific

[greenhappyseed]

Anyone interested in some fic recs? Here’s a few ones I recently read and am enjoying — I prefer long, slow burn stories heavy on characterization/character study with adult protagonists, so that’s what’s on the list! As always, check the ratings and mind the tags; almost all are M for themes/language and a few have E chapters. This list is not exhaustive, and doesn’t include many older works, so if you have q’s or want more recs, ask away!

EraserMight

Blood Orange by @flyingjemsaucer is my happy place right now (the author has other lovely EraserMight fics too). It’s a wonderful AU with orange farmer/vendor Toshinori and teacher Aizawa. This one is interesting and different because Toshinori is un-injured and Aizawa has his post-PLF disabilities. As a bonus, this fic also has great DadMight and Dadzawa, with David Shield and married Mic/Midnight as the best friends of the lead pair.

Closed Fist and Bleeding Heart by MoonlightAndDust (who I believe also wrote this AU twitfic). Just all around good, canon universe, angsty EraserMight.

EraserMic

Nine Lives by machiroads (also check out the author’s Naruhata Noir, which ties in to Vigilantes lore). This one is set during Aizawa’s canon post-war hospital stay and features a super fun Mirko, snarky little shithead [affectionate] Shinso, and good OCs. Honestly, the EraserMic romance is just one part of the story, and that’s fine because it’s full of other things.

And When It All Goes to Hell by @purekesseltrash (also check out the author’s Rooftop Necromancy series for a band AU). Both of these fics are examples of an author’s other hobbies/interests making the fic truly special. This one is a hockey AU and it’s great! Filled with lots of cool details, it cuts between the teenage rooftop trio and the adult Hizashi and Shouta reuniting after 10+ years to figure their shit out. Knowing some hockey stuff helps, but isn’t required at all — the drama is still there! And if you want to read about 1A students in this hockey AU, then you’re in luck because the author has that too (though I have yet to read it myself only because I prefer adult protagonists).

ToshInko

Naive Melody by @aconstantstateofbladerunner. I also like many of the author’s other works including For Kurou and Dekugate, but I think this one deserves more attention for its terrifying premise and action sequences. It keeps the core “hero society” concept from MHA and then goes and does its own thing. Also, I love the Talking Heads references — you KNOW how I get with my 80s new wave music!

Bones of You by @thoughtfulraven. A really sweet story set in the canon universe, with BFFs Inko and Mitsuki and a closer look at Toshinori’s mental state.

Nighteye/All Might

Happiness by @puddinginthemix made me like Nighteye, and that’s a feat. Set in the canon universe with canon events…I’ll just say this one made me tear up a bit.

DadMight and gen All Might

Living Well by @krisingtons is super sweet. If you want some DadMight fluff, this is where you go. (I also happen to really like the Quirk Development Theories series, especially the OC that pairs off with Inko in one of the later stories because they all work together so well to support Izuku).

Learning to Trust by @siriusfan13, a longtime favorite. Not only is this a fantastic look at All Might in the year before he agreed to work at UA, but the author links some amazing DadMight/genMight fic recs at the end of (most) chapters.

Kacchako & also Hawks (WhaaAAaa????)

Toy Soldiers by AJLenoire is a bit of a wild card on this list, but it’s really well-written. The multiple subplots within the Kacchako plot and the Hawks/OC plot are all fun, and the Hawks/OC relationship is a blast.

#fic recs #mha fic rec #bnha fic recs #EraserMight #eraserMic #toshinko #dadmight #kacchako

[alienaiver]

Rugged

Aizawa Shouta x GN!reader

warnings: quirk-induced amnesia, canon minor character death (major in my heart tho), spoilers for... season 5 and forth? to be safe wordcount: 4.9k content: confessions, first kiss, fluff, sfw, no use of y/n, pro hero reader but quirk is unspecified, canon compliant, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly reader, body positive reader, hurt/comfort in like the mildest sense, soft love, amnesia situation, friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, started as a meme turned into something serious, something about cats, unbeta'd, flashbacks to high school days

notes: this is so embarassing to admit but i only came up with this story bcos of that tiktok/insta reel (link is a tiktok as thats where i could find the source material) about having a type that's 'rugged'. it was supposed to just turn into a little joke on that and... uh, ykno suddenly i was almost 5k deep into a childhood friends to lovers, ..ya my brain had a VISION alrighty!!!!! please enjoy a one-eyed kitty, one-eyed aizawa and interrupted confessions!

Aizawa’s leaning forward on the desk, meticulously writing down an exact copy of your notes from English Literature that he missed yesterday due to being in the infirmary… again. He’s always known that becoming a Pro Hero with a non-physical quirk would be tough, but he didn’t imagine landing himself in a hospital bed as often as he does. He’s bulking up nicely, but he feels beaten black and blue every other day and it’s… exhausting.

Rewarding, but exhausting nonetheless. He’s momentarily disturbed as a chair is being dragged across the floor, screeching away before haphazardly thrown next to the desk, wrong side facing it, and Yamada throwing himself onto it, arms leaning on the backrest. He says your name in a sing-song voice – your given name, has he no shame? - and steals a peek of you from over the rim of his glasses. You rest your head in your palm and smile at him, “what’s up?” you ask, and he hums as if he’s thinking deeply about something. Aizawa’s got a bad feeling about whatever subject he’s about to bring up; ever since he appointed himself Aizawa’s wing man, the pestering’s both been non-stop and non-discreet.

Aizawa keeps his face buried in the notes, purposefully removing himself from the conversation.

“What’s your type?” Yamada asks and Aizawa has to hold back a facepalm. You simply giggle and play with the zipper from your pencil case before you answer, “hmm, I’m not sure. But with all due respect, I know it’s not you,” you tease him and he straightens his back in mock-surprise, the conversation’s one you’ve had before. He takes a hand to his chest, “what? Not me? Well you’re not my type either!” the shriek in which he yells is a little too loud, his quirk still a little too unmanageable when he gets excited – he winces as the rest of the class turn their heads. You simply laugh and bite your lower lip. Aizawa steals a look at you through his bangs, admiring the glimmer in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry ‘Zashi, I truly am, but… you’re just not… rugged enough.”

“What? I’m so rugged. I can be rugged!”

“Look at you, you’re not rugged,” you laugh as you gesture vaguely to… all of him. He takes offense as he puffs up his chest, “how am I not rugged? Because I’m not wearing a flannel in 80 degree weather?”

You hide your face in your hand as you try to contain your laughter, “yeah, sure, whatever… but look at you now. You fly off the handle like that, you’re too angry.”

“That’s a very rugged thing to do!”

“No, it’s really not.”

Aizawa has been saddled with the two of you for almost two semesters now, and he’s still not entirely used to the way you joke around. In the beginning he was always worried about you fighting and not getting along and he’d stare at you both with wide eyes like a startled cat and hope you’d settle down soon. You always did, laughing like the greatest joke was just told.

You lean forward on the table to bark out a laughter deep from your stomach, momentarily blocking the view of your notes that Aizawa’s copying. He lets out a soundless grunt at you being so close and pulls away in surprise when he accidentally smell your shampoo. He wants to lean forward again, to commit the scent to memory, but you’re already straightened back up, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye, “you don’t even want me, Hizashi, why is this always so important to you?”

This makes Aizawa freeze, terrified that Yamada will accidentally tell his secret to you. But Yamada simply crosses his arms, puffs up his cheeks and nods, “you’re right, I don’t. But I want you to want me. I’m the entire package.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your arm fall onto the desk in defeat. “Sure then, ‘Zashi. I want you. Badly. More than anything. Please go out with me.” your face is as flat as Aizawa’s can be, and Yamada smiles proudly, “no thank you.”

Aizawa’s startled out of grading papers when his personal phone starts ringing next to him on the desk, the screen much too bright for the darkened room he’s situated in. It’s an unknown caller, which makes him hesitant at first but since it’s well past office hours, he knows it won’t be a salesman of any sort.

He bites his lower lip before he picks up.

“Aizawa speaking.”

“Ah, good evening. I apologize for contacting you at this hour, however, you are written down as the emergency contact for…” he apologetically butchers the pronunciation of your name, but gets your hero name correctly, “this is Aizawa Shouta, right?” the person on the other end confirms, and Aizawa nods before he verbally comes up with an answer.

“Well, it’s just that…” he explains your situation precariously, advising Aizawa to just come down to the station if he’s able, since someone will need to escort you home. He makes sure to remind Aizawa that you have two more emergency contacts on file in case he’s not available, but after getting the location, he’s already up from the chair before he’s hung up with the poor officer dealing with you.

From the call he knows you’re neither mortally wounded or in any kind of distress. You were on patrol when you encountered two villains. One of them turned out to have an amnesia quirk, and now you were stuck at the precinct, not entirely sure where your apartment is located. The officer informed Aizawa that you seemed calm and collected but that the last date you remember was well over 10 years ago even if you haven’t age-regressed in any way.

When he arrives, the officer leads him to one of the offices, profusely apologizing and thanking him at the same time. He’ll never really get used to the way newly appointed officers act around Pro Heroes.

Even if all facts and rationale tells Aizawa that you’re fine, he still grips the door handle way too tight, throwing open the door and evidently scaring the shit out of you, sprawled out on the couch with an ice bag on your knee. You spew out some profanities as you sit up. Aizawa immediately calms down as he sees you alive and well. He thanks the officer and agrees with the officer to sit down and talk with you before taking you home. He bows before he closes the door and looks back at you.

“I already gave a statement – was anything missing?” you ask, resting your hands neatly on your thighs. Aizawa shakes his head, “I came to pick you up – they informed you about which of the emergency contacts to call, right?”

Realization seems to travel across your features as Aizawa masks the sting he feels. Instinctively you reach out, but ultimately pull your hands back, “Aizawa?”

For a split second he lets his emotion show on his face – the way you say his last name instead of his given name, but he’s quick to hide it again. He nods and sits down on one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, “I was informed that your memory’s been wiped.”

You nod and look at the floor, “yeah. They took in the villains and interrogated them. It seems it’ll wear off in five to seven hours, but until then I’m stuck with my first work study as my most recent memory. I don’t feel like high school me, though, it’s just like there’s an empty gap in my timeline and not an age-related kind of thing. I can’t remember what has happened since then, but cognitively speaking, I’m still myself.”

Aizawa breathes in sharply, “well, that’s a relief. I have enough students to take care of,” he dryly jokes and the way your eyes widen make him self-conscious. He shouldn’t have made the joke he thinks as he shrinks in on himself.

“You’re a teacher?”

The way you ask betrays your emotions all too clearly and Aizawa holds back a snort. If the last of his personality you remember is high school, he gets why you struggle with the image of him taking care of the budding youth.

“A homeroom teacher, actually.”

Whatever preconceptions you had initially seems to dissipate and you smile proudly, “that’s amazing.”

You haven’t commented on his appearance; besides the moment where you didn’t recognize him, you don’t seem all too taken aback by his lack of eye and prosthetic leg. He’s relieved.

“You ready to go?” he asks, patting his lap with his palms before bracing himself to get up. You get up too and stretch your arms over your head, waiting for that satisfying pop, but it never comes. Annoyed, you let your arms falls and Aizawa smiles at you.

He leads you out of the room and as you put on the jacket he came with, he thanks the officers for their work with some polite back and forth and a bow.

The trip back is quiet as you seem to just take in your surroundings. You stop by your Agency to grab your personal items and civilian clothes that you left behind before your patrol. Luckily the offices are mostly cleared out, so you don’t have to ‘meet’ everyone and Aizawa gets out of explaining everything to everyone.

“Do you want me to escort you to your place? Or do you want to come to mine?”

The question is straight-forward and innocent; you sleep over so often that Aizawa’s spare futon has simply been dubbed your futon, but you seem taken aback, eyes wide and mouth agape. For a moment Aizawa’s blind to the confusion before he remembers.

“Sorry, you sleep over at my place a lot since it’s close to your work. I thought you might also like to see Benben.”

Your eyes that had seemed so tired ever since he arrived, lights up in recollection and excitement, “Benben’s alive and well?” you ask, absentmindedly leaning into Aizawa’s space in your joy. He struggles not to lean back reflectively.

“Yeah, she’s living with me now. She’s becoming old, though. But you’re still her favorite human, so she’d be happy to see you too.”

You giggle into your palm, clearly trying to picture Benben. She was a stray that you and Aizawa started to feed your leftover lunches to back during your first year at U.A. She was also one of the reasons you even started bonding with the stoic classmate. When you talk about the name Benben, a very bad nickname based off of bento, you always laugh and tease Aizawa about his cat-naming skills. While he defends himself in front of Yamada – the man with a habit of getting out his childish side – he never once argues against you on that subject.

Next to Aizawa, you clear your throat right as he’s about to unlock his front door. He’s been polite enough to not comment on the level of staring you’ve done ever since he picked you up, but it seems to be getting too much for yourself. He smiles at you gently, like he’s communicating with a lost child, and the smile makes you act before you can think too long about the action. Aizawa’s breath hitches and whole body freezes when your cold fingertips reach the skin of his cheeks. Your eyes look at him like they’re searching for something, and shortly after your palms make contact, your thumbs start traveling around his face, from his eyebrows to the slope of his nose and then a finger is being traced over the scar under his right eye. He can see all the questions fly through your head, the way you hold back from tracing the eye patch but stare at it like it’s not supposed to be there. He’s about to clear his throat when a thumb starts tracing his chapped lips before continuing down to his jawline, tickling his 5 o’clock shadow. As he tries to smile patiently at you, you mumble something under your breath that makes Aizawa’s heart stop for just a moment too long before racing at the same speeds as Yamada’s car when he’s late.

“It really is you… you’re just so…” you pause for a moment to swallow thickly and lick your lips, “…rugged.”

Not until you’ve had your (in Aizawa’s terms) grabby little fingers on every part of his face and given his heart an aneurysm with your words, does realization hit you. You seem to shrink and pull away to bow half-way a few times at him. Aizawa grumbles out a weak complaint about personal space and jingle the keys again to find the right one. No matter how advanced his work place is in terms of security and technology, he finds it unbelievable how many different types of keys he is expected carry for the school grounds alone. Logically, he’s aware that he’s fumbling due to your innocent advances but his brain’s not exactly acting calm and rational, so he furrows his brows and as he puts in the correct key, takes in a deep, calming breath.

When he motions for you to enter the apartment, he can’t help but observe you as you curiously peek around while you enter. You don’t toe off your shoes or step up from the genkan until the door behind him is locked and he gestures to the left pair of slippers in front of you. You let out a breath as you mumble, “sorry for intruding…” as if this isn’t your home away from home.

As Aizawa toes off his own shoes, he takes notice of your searching eyes. He jerks his head towards the living room, “she’s probably sleeping on the couch. She can’t hear very well anymore, so she doesn’t greet by the door.”

There’s a clear sort of heartbreak in your eyes that Aizawa recognizes, before you nod and walk in the direction of the living room. While your memory might be gone for the moment, it seems there’s muscle memory still intact as you purposefully step over the loose floorboard he always warns guests about. He smiles at that. Benben seems to spot you from her pillow on the couch because no sooner than you enter the room, he starts hearing the hoarse bleating of the senior kitty in there. She must’ve stayed up when Aizawa suddenly left, since it’s out of routine. She’s never been able to meow properly, which enchanted you since she first bleated at you for a bite of your convenience store-bought onigiri back when the two of you met her for the first time.

He hears you coo at her and can only imagine you both before he turns the other corner for his office to shut down the computer for the night. He quickly rejoins you and finds you with Benben on your lap, purring and headbutting your hands to her heart’s contents. When his eye travel higher to meet yours, he’s taken aback momentarily at the strained smile and wet eyes.

“She looks so loved.” you try to explain, and Aizawa can’t hold back the blush from the compliment. She does look loved now, a little on the fuller side (not by a lot, as her physical health is very important to Aizawa), her coat is shiny despite the coarseness that age brings, and she no longer has that stubborn eye infection it took Aizawa several years to treat out of her; she’s missing an eye now as a result, but she’s healthy.

You look around his living room, smiling and heaving in breaths at all the external proofs for her love; she has a pet staircase to both the windowsill, couch and the dining chair next to his; there are three different cat towers and several cat shelves for her to perch on although they’ve rarely been used for several years now. Aizawa can’t bear to take them down – what if she wants to go on one last adventure to the shelf highway he built for her close to the ceiling? It obviously wouldn’t be safe for her to do so, but robbing her of the options feels cruel to his heart.

When you pet her behind her ear and Aizawa situates himself on the floor pillow, you giggle, “you match.”

You’re referring to the missing eyes and while Aizawa takes no offense from the comment, he can’t help but snort at the straightforward observation. It’s very like you.

“How did you lose it?”

You don’t remove your eyes from Benben as you ask and from the shaky lilt to your voice, he knows you’re afraid of the answer. He’s afraid of telling you, too.

So much bad has happened during those years – you were there during his low points after, and asking that question is like removing the experiences you’ve shared. The grief you’ve suffered.

But he knows you want to know. Before he can answer, you continue, “can you tell me everything? About you… Oboro and Hizashi, too. I was informed it was only you, Hizashi and my mom on my emergency contact list. I know it’s not supposed to be miles long but… yeah…” you trail off and Aizawa’s grateful that you’re not looking at him. He’s not sure he’s able to control his face right now; and the emotion he’s showing wouldn’t be remotely close to soothing for you.

“Uh,” he jerks and clears his throat several times to stall, “when did you say your memory would be back?” he asks instead even if he’s aware of the answer.

You look up and hum thoughtfully, “they said five to seven hours around … two hours ago? So…” you count on your fingers and despite everything, Aizawa huffs out a soundless laugh, “three to five hours? Give or take.”

He inhales sharply. He can’t drive you off for that long, even if he used going to bed as an excuse. You’d just toss and turn in fear of what you’d come to remember.

So he tells you. He retells every painful memory with clear objectivity, pausing to let you process each one, seeing the light slowly dissipate in your eyes for every terrible incident. When he reaches present day, he inhales slowly and holds his breath for a moment to control his own emotions.

You’ve stopped petting Benben who’s sound asleep on your lap now, your hands hanging like lifeless limbs by your side. Aizawa then clears his throat, “you were scouted. In third year. ‘Zashi opened a radio station shortly after graduation. Oboro’s mom still invites us for hotpot for his birthday every year despite the mismatch in dish and weather,” you both laugh at that one – of course she insists on his favorite dish on such an important day. An image of the four of you huddled around, sweating over a pot of delicious food has you throwing your head back in sincere laughter, “you have a prodigy; you inspired me to take a pupil on as well, and he’s graduating this spring… I, uh… I use eye drops now.”

The last tidbit of information makes you turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash. Then, your expression turns stern, “didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I tell you to be careful!” you reprimand and he almost rolls his eye at you. Almost.

You shake your head at him and focus back on Benben, a little more color on you again as the mood has successfully shifted. He’s unsure if you’re pretending to be fine for his sake or if he actually succeeded in making you feel better, but he can’t stifle the yawn that comes out of him as soon as he feels relief.

You look up apologetically, “oh my God I’m so sorry, I’ve kept you up haven’t I? Please, you can just go to bed, I’ll be okay!”

Aizawa wants to argue but he also can’t fight the creaky ache he feels in his bones. He went straight from a night shift to school, napped in the teacher’s lounge and then home to grade papers. He’s dead-tired.

He gets up to carry his futon into the living room and set yours up in his bedroom. Usually, you sleep in the same, bare room as him and Benben, but he feels it might be too much for you without your memories, even if you sleep on separate futons with space in between. You make a joke about the futons but then, in a soft voice admit, “I think it’s nice you sleep on something accessible for Benben…” there’s a warm tone to your voice that makes him blush heavily before he pushes you out of his living room.

“I’ll sleep out here, you take the bedroom.”

You meekly argue about taking his bedroom, but he shuts you down in the same way he’s always done, and urges you to carry Benben in with you. You agree to have the door ajar in case Benben wants to walk around, and you bow your head when you bid him goodnight. Aizawa lets the light in the hallway stay on.

////

You wake up with a hitched breath and sweat on your brow, unsure when you managed to fall asleep. Disoriented, you take in Aizawa’s bedroom; you were supposed to sleep home tonight after your shift though, not to mention that Aizawa’s futon isn’t laid out next to yours. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings until it all comes back to you. You’d lost your memory.

You’d lost yourself. You hug your arms around you as the feeling of being lost still sits heavy in your body and makes you shiver. Seeing Aizawa was terrifying; you’d no idea of the obvious horrors he’d had to endure. You didn’t remember your best friend’s death.

For a moment you control your breathing, making yourself calm down as best as you’re able. It makes sense why Aizawa decided to sleep in the living room, if the last memory of him was a pimple-y teenager and not the gruff man he is today. You close your eyes and think back to right before you entered the apartment.

You roll onto your stomach and hide your face in your hands, letting out a drawn-out flustered groan. Without thinking, you kick your legs on the bedding to alleviate the embarrassment that’s coursing through you at your own actions. You’d just went all up in his face! The sensation of his stubble underneath your fingertips, his warm breath and his chapped but so, so kissable lips.

No!

You groan again, drowning in your one-sided misery of a crush. Your honed Pro Hero senses are completely dulled by your pining, so when Aizawa suddenly throws open the door and asks if you are alright, you screech as you lift your head from the pillow, “Shouta!”

“Shit, sorry, I heard you moving around so I thought you might have a nightmare,” he hurries to explain, secretly relieved to hear you say his given name again. He frowns when he can’t see your face with your back turned to him. Still frozen, you barely breathe before he continues, “...you are alright, right?”

Making a grimace and with no interest in facing him right now, you choke out “mhmyepdefinitelyeverythingsperfect!” in one single breath before you’re forced to inhale deeply. You hear Aizawa’s metallic foot as he walks towards your futon and hear the rustling of his clothes as he bends down in a squat next to you, “you don’t sound perfectly fine to me, though. Do you have a fever? Is it an aftershock from getting your memories back?”

Being the perfectly rational man that he is, he oversteps any boundaries to quickly check your temperature with his palm. Embarrassment can come after he’s made sure you’re okay.

You push his hand away weakly, still looking pointedly at the wall in front of you, letting out a strained laugh, “heehee, I’m just… you’re right, it must be an aftershock, right? Nothing else!”

He lets you swat his hand away without much resistance but stays where he is, letting the silence hang over you both for a minute. Suddenly, he croaks out all hoarse and desperate, “Just tell me if there’s anything, please.”

Your shoulders fall at the voice. Aizawa’s the opposite of having a heart on a sleeve, but you’ve been with him through enough tragedies to know he must be scared shitless right now. Whenever you or Yamada is even remotely bruised, he fusses over you in his own, annoyed way, until he finds you sufficiently healed. You sigh before you let your head fall back onto your pillow, a short moment to gather your thoughts and feelings before having to face him.

It must’ve been a lot for him, when you asked him to recount the years you’d momentarily lost. It would’ve been better to let it be, but he knew you so well and knew you wouldn’t let it go. Curiosity kills the cat, right?

With heavy and slow movement, you turn around so that you’re facing him, hoping your expression won’t betray your real emotions. You sigh and reach out for his hand. It’s shaking but as soon as your warm fingers make contact, he flinches before he relaxes.

Then, he grunts like he’s annoyed and chastises you for worrying him. You giggle, “I’m sorry, you’re tired, right?” you ask, knowing his schedule this week is packed. He usually leaves little wiggle room for emergencies, however many he encounters.

Before he can reply, you pull at his hand and he topples over, half on the futon and half on the floor, on his knees. You laugh and pull him even closer to you, hoping your beating heart isn’t as loud as it feels.

You and Aizawa have cuddled before; loneliness and grief has made you carve out comfort in each other, but nothing else have ever been spoken aloud. No kissing, no romantic notions to trace back to. Having a one-sided crush since high school feels deafening right now, when all the years travel back to you after what only amounts to a moment without them.

You want to tell him how you feel; losing your memories made you realize how much you’d like for him to comfort you with kisses if anything should ever happen; how you’d like for him to hold you without holding back.

He grumbles where his head is rested in your neck after he’s settled, but he makes no effort to move. You nuzzle into the mane of hair and breathe in his scent; it’s a lavender-scented shampoo that Yamada insists on buying for him. He never accepts it without complaining, but he also never showers without using it. There’s a spare in your bathroom, at the Agency’s bathroom and at his teacher’s dorm at U.A.

“Y’know, I was really surprised for a moment that you became a teacher.”

He makes no movement, but you know he’s listening.

“But as soon as I thought about it, it made perfect sense. You care so much it sometimes hurts to watch…”

You feel his fist tighten around your bedding, but he stays otherwise quiet still.

“You hurt watching me, too, right? How we both have a habit of bending over backwards for what we perceive is right.”

You start dragging your hands through his hair, letting out a sigh.

“I like that we know each other so well. I like how after so many years, you’re still right here in my arms…”

You pause as his upper arm snakes around you, a sharp exhale against your neck.

“You’ve never dated anyone. At least, not anyone you’d tell me about, so I have no idea where this will lead me to but,”

You take a moment to gather your nerves. There’s really no backing down now. Even if you regret it, your words have already given your feelings away; there’s nothing you can take back.

There’s nothing you want to take back.

You’re about to continue your confession when Aizawa pushes against your neck, his warm lips, soft despite the dryness, presses against your pulse point. You can hear your heartbeat so loud in your ear that the rustling of the sheets from Benben is indistinguishable to you, the only sensation you’re able to take in being Aizawa’s lips as they briefly pull away from your neck, only to push back higher up, closer to your jaw.

You whine and pout, but it’s shaky and without much force. You want to protest, scold him for interrupting you but suddenly he lifts his head to face you, and you’re faced with wide eyes and blown pupils. He steals a glance at your lips before he licks his own, pink tongue peeking out. You feel like a cornered prey, one that’s about to be devoured by a beast. When he hovers mere millimeters above your lips he pauses as if to ask for permission and the sigh you let out makes him know that everything’s okay. That everything he’s ever wanted, wished for, dreamed of, is real.

That losing your memory for a second made you desperate to make more meaningful ones.

And you kiss.

While curiosity did kill the cat, satisfaction definitely brought it back.

#its been a while since i wrote and posted a full blown fic so im suddenly nervous........ in like the way i used to be when i started! its #little fun to feel that way again after 30+ works!!! #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #aizawa shouta fluff #reader insert #nohr.writing #nohr.bnha #i honestly MOSTLY hope that this is coherent. i really did shift my perspective half way in bcos i like to flesh out pain apparently KJDASK #ilysm yall<3333 hope u enjoy this smooching offering

[serasarahhhh]

Author: Maxine Pairings: BakuDeku Rating: R Chapters: 14/? Notes: Accidental quirk shenanigans result in an unplanned pregnancy. Post-canon, no a/b/o dynamics. Summary: It's not that Katsuki didn't want kids. He figured he'd have them one day, probably. That he and Izuku would adopt or maybe figure something else out. This is NOT how it was supposed to go. ~~~~~ CHAPTER 14 “OI!” Katsuki barks at the rest of the room, even though most of its occupants are already staring at him with arched eyebrows. He swallows as everyone else turns their attention toward him, trying not to fidget in place or do anything that would make him fall. He’s not exactly at his usual level of coordination these days. “Real quick. Uh. I know I was kind of a last-minute addition to the staff roster and maybe some of you are wondering what the hell I’m doing here.” “Recovering from a thing!” Present Mic shouts, and then gives him a double thumbs up when Katsuki scowls. At his side, Vlad King starts snickering. “No – goddammit.” Katsuki huffs. “Look, I’ve been off field work for a few weeks and was getting sick of hanging around my agency not doing shit.” He tips his head in Tsuyu’s direction. “Froppy here was nice enough to suggest letting me double up with her and somehow we got Principal Nezu onboard. Probably just taking pity on me, but whatever. I’m gonna be even more of a pain for you people to deal with than I was in school because…” Katsuki cuts both hands in toward his stomach, more or less framing the bulging curve there. “I’m pregnant. Got hit with a Quirk. Shit happened. It’s Deku’s.” He puffs out a breath and jerks forward into a slight bow. “Thanks in advance for putting up with me, I guess.” “Young Bakugou, please get down,” All Might hisses out in an overly frantic tone, and this time Katsuki does as told. He even accepts the hand the older man holds out to assist him. “See, now that explains it,” a gruff voice says. Katsuki looks up to find Hound Dog stroking the bottom of his muzzle in a thoughtful sort of way. Most of the rest of the room seems completely unphased – likely a byproduct of having years under their belts as both pro heroes and teachers who’ve mentored hundreds of students with all manner of Quirks. They’ve all seen some shit, Katsuki realizes, and the bit of tension that had locked up his shoulders abruptly drains away. This probably isn’t even close to the weirdest thing any of them have dealt with. “Explains what?” Katsuki asks, somewhat warily. Hound Dog shrugs. “Your smell.” “…What?” “You smell pregnant. It was throwing me off.” “WHAT?!” “Maaaan, you’ve gotta share things like that!” Present Mic yells over at Houng Dog. “Spill the tea, share the juice, give me the gossip! How many times do I gotta tell you?!” “Way too early,” Aizawa grumbles again. He pulls open a drawer of a nearby desk and whips out a yellow sleeping bag that’s seen far better days. “Somebody wake me up when the opening ceremony starts.” “Shouta, did you know?” Present Mic demands, spinning toward him before Aizawa can fully disappear beneath the desk. “Shouta! HEY. Did you know??” “Oh man, I’m so glad I signed on this year,” Tokage utters in awe. She looks a little too gleeful, honestly. “This is great.” Tsuyu nods in agreement. “I wonder if it’s always this eventful.” “What the fuck does he mean, I smell pregnant,” Katsuki asks, scandalized. “Is that a fucking thing? Do I stink??” “It’s just his Quirk, Bakugou.” Tsuyu gives him a reassuring pat on the arm. “He probably picked up on the hormonal changes. Don’t worry about it. Want to go over the plans for our first classes?” Alright, well that’s gross and terrible to know. Continue reading at AO3. Through chapter 14 now posted!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #dekubaku #katsudeku #decchan #bkdk #dkbk #mpreg #bnha mpreg #bkdk mpreg #dkbk mpreg #bnha fic #mha fic #bkdk fic #dkbk fic #fic

[tomurasmoleunderhislip]

Aizawa Shouta comfort hcs:

How he would comfort his s/o:

Okay so first of all, people that think he's an asshole, cold-hearted and careless y'all can eat my shit🌈.

This man. He's a total sweetheart secretly BELIVE ME.

He would notice immediately when something's wrong, I can imagine him hugging you from behind and asking in gentle/soft voice "what's wrong" or "long day? Wanna talk about it". Don't try to lie to him that nothing's wrong because man can smell that you are lying 💀.

Isn't best with words but still would try to give you advice for whatever problem you have and tell you that it will be okay because he is here <3.

Shouta is a great listener and would let you cry on his shoulder if needed. When you are ranting to him about your day he would hold you closely to him while he's resting his chin either on your head or shoulder and listening to you carefully.

Also he would hold your hand and gently rub it with his thumb if you know what I mean 😭. Expect lot's of cuddling and hugging, napping together and forehead kisses too.

I can imagine him making you hot drink like tea or chocolate milk to make you more relax would even ask you if you want him to run you warm bath <3. He cares and tries he really does give this big bby hug he deserves it 💕.

You would be the only one to see soft side of him and man is soft for you only and you only.

How you would comfort him:

He probably wouldn't let you comfort him at first and won't open up because he doesn't want to worry and bother you. Even though you told him hundreds of times that it's fine and how it doesn't bother you but still he still wouldn't open up about it 💀.

One day he just gave up and layed on you since you wouldn't leave him alone. win win.

Anyways he would lay down on your chest or stomach and rant to you about his day/whatever crushed his will for anything that day. He loves it when you rub his back or just hug him and shower him with kisses while he's ranting to you 🖤.

The only thing he wants is to be with you at situation like this he just wants you to hold him or other way around he literally doesn't care, all that matters is that he's with you 😭.

Tell him how much you are proud of him and how much you love him and that you will be always by his side or just be there for him whenever he needs you, he will absolutely melt in your arms.

Play with his hair too and massage his head he really needs it.

You would also turn on his favorite show/movie on TV to cheer him up a little and get his favorite drink & snacks while you two are all snuggled up and covered in blankets AND YOUR CATS. PLSSS IMAGINE YOU HAVE ONE CAT AND HE HAS ONE CAT TOO THAT WOULD BE SO SO ADORABLE 😭😭😭. Little fluffy emotional supports 💯💯💯 Shouta is cat person and it's canon 🙌.

This would boost his mood so much. Please I love him more than my own self this isn't healthy.

He's such a cutie <3

I don't know why I always write late at night help 💀💀💀

#aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa headcanons #aizawa comfort #my precious #my hero academia #mha

[ao3feed-dadzawa]

#AO3 Link #FanFiction #AO3 Dadzawa #♦ #Aizawa Shouta #Izuku Midoriya #Hitoshi Shinsou #R:T #A:Milesofnothing #Vigilante AU #Quirkless AU #Dadzawa #Abuse #Angst

[kywaslost]

ok but like- Aizawa as an older brother hcs. Would he be a good brother? The reader being in 1A, Would they constantly bicker with eachother and have the worst sibling rivalry or be the best sibling duo that has never argued before?

Brotherly Love - Aizawa

A/N: I love this idea so much!!!

I think you and Aizawa would bicker a lot when you were younger, considering there’d be such an age gap between the two of you

But when you got older and more mature the two of you would get along just fine

Especially after your parents died and Aizawa became your new guardian

He’s the reason you kept living after they died

Makes sure to make time for you whenever he could

Until you joined 1-A and he saw you almost 24/7

You don’t give him any issues in class, listening to him and doing whatever he asks the class to do

He doesn’t treat you any differently than your classmates

You went by your first name in class, and it took 1-A a week to figure out that you and Aizawa were related

And it’s only because you accidentally called him ‘bubby’ when asking him a question because you were speaking without thinking

Overall the two of you get along really well and very rarely give each other any issues

#comfort #bnha #bnha comfort #x reader #platonic #bnha fluff #mr aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa #aizawa x reader comfort #platonic aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa sensei #eraserhead #aizawa reader #aizawa as a big brother #aizawa shouta head canons

[karikarasuno]

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings/Tags: Established Relationship, Marital Problems, Beach House Setting, Flashbacks, Angst, Canon Divergence, Quirk Explanation 

a/n: behold my submission for @mybigbangacademia. I’ve had a crazy journey writing this big boy, but it was all worth it and I’m kinda proud of what it has turned into. thanks to all the admin for hosting this event, it was amazing seeing all of the work and effort you all put into this. and another huge shout out to @thegetoufather for (1) dealing with me and (2) being a massive support. and thanks to the lovely @strafepanzer who read this over for me and allowed me to be scared as hell about the deadline in her dms. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys my little passion project and I appreciate you x a million.

masterlist | part one | part two

The drive to the beach house is quiet, not unlike many of the interactions you and your husband have been having recently. The distance between the two of you could probably be filled with the ocean you were currently driving towards. A vast unknown of deep, deep uncertainty. You kind of regretted the suggestion to come out here for the summer. If you didn’t know what to say to him at home, how would you figure it out here? When it’s just the two of you and the silence stretched like taffy, sticky and thinning with every passing moment. 

You fiddled with the radio for most of the drive, adjusting the dial to change the station the further away from home you got. The silence needed to be filled with something. Usually, and what you hoped for, it was conversation. Casual, comfortable conversation. But that was few and far between nowadays. You could probably count the number of times the two of you actually talked in the last few months on one hand. Which had hairline fractures slicing through your heart, the inevitable shattering of it bound to happen any day now.

Shouta pulls into the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires and the sun shining bright through the windshield. The force of the light bounces off the scar beneath his eye, the thickened skin pink and glowing. The urge to stroke it with your thumb is heavy in your chest, to feel the ridged skin glide beneath your fingertips like you had done so many times before. But you stop yourself, turning to look at the wind chimes hung up in the patio, the slight breeze clattering them together and apart. 

He got out of the car first, turning it off and wordlessly heading to the trunk. It takes a minute for you to unclick your seatbelt as you mentally prepare for the state of this trip. The getaway that is surely supposed to fix whatever went sorely wrong in your marriage. But you promised yourself to keep your expectations low, three weeks is not enough time to repair a year’s worth of damage. Whatever damage that may be. 

Shouta taps on your window with his knuckle, gaze unreadable when he lifts a hand to show you that he got your bags from the back. You have the keys in your purse and even though a percentage of you wanted to beg for him to get back in the car and just drive back to the city, you will yourself from the passenger seat. He steps aside so you can step out into the summer heat. The sea breeze doing nothing to cool down the anxiety burning through your skin. You want so badly for this to work, for this to heal and scar over the wounds that were beginning to feel too deep. And you genuinely didn’t know what you would do if it didn’t. The idea of losing him is too painful to dwell on, so you push it down and into the farthest corner of your consciousness. 

Not even entertaining the thought for a second. 

There are quite a few stairs leading up to the front door. The white paint coating each step is faded, small streaks of the walnut wood finish peeking through. You pull the keys out of your bag, smiling to yourself when you notice the Midnight keychain hanging off the ring. For as much as you had clowned Nemuri and Hizashi for drunkenly buying a beach house one night, the one they chose is rather beautiful. Nestled between clusters of beach grass and sand dunes. 

The steps led to a wraparound porch, a matching white railing attached to the overhang by boxy white pillars. Shouta set down the luggage near the door, sticking his hands into his pockets as he ventured around one side of the house. You place a hand on the side of the house, admiring the cool grey paint, gentle blue hues complimented by the ocean roaring behind it. Instinctively, you search for a heartbeat, flutterings of your now activated quirk tingling your nerves. But there isn’t one, obviously. Just still, cool stucco beneath your flat palm. Without a pulse there aren’t feelings to be detected, but still you wondered if the emotions you harbored inside of you could ever be absorbed by the walls you resided in. 

You stick the key in the lock, twisting until you feel it give under the pressure. The door swings open towards you to reveal a vast family room. There is a rustic orange l-shaped sofa taking up most of the space, emerald green and mustard yellow throw pillows are scattered across its surface. Leaving behind very little room to lounge on. A large area rug covers most of the mahogany wood paneled flooring. The colors mimicked that of the furniture, the rich brown of the flooring somehow bringing it all together. 

Sliding glass doors line the opposite wall, a breathtaking view of the ocean is clear past the deck, two lounge chairs and a circular table decorating it. You grab one of the bags by the handle to roll it in, stepping over the threshold and onto the jute braided runner. 

Shouta pads in after you, the other bag in tow as he presumably does the same thing you did. You spare him a sideways glance over your shoulder, his hair much more windswept than it was earlier. You toe off your shoes and leave them by the door, a small shoe rack is tucked away in the corner. 

“Wow, this is…” you rest a hand on the back of the sofa, running it across the velvety fabric as the color shifts beneath your palm. 

“Loud,” Shouta finishes, staring at the living room decor with a light scrunch in his nose. It’s cute, the distaste written plainly on his face. And again, the urge to touch him is strong in your limbs, but you stick your hands in the pockets of your linen overalls, toying with the loose string lining the inside. 

“Our fault for letting those two hang out without us,” you start, leaning against the edge of the couch and staring at the waves lapping the shore. “They make crazy decisions like this when at least one of us isn’t around.” 

He hums, the low vibration tickling your eardrums. Other than that he doesn’t say anything else, just a solemn nod in agreement as he rolls his suitcase into the room beside him. It opens up into a spacious master bedroom. A king sized bed pressed against the wall in its center. Unlike the living room, the stylistic choices are toned down by several notches. The wooden four poster bed frame houses a heap of white bedding, all crisp and clean and light. There is a chunky knitted blanket hanging off the end of the bed, plum colored and incredibly cozy looking. 

There’s also a chest at the foot of the bed, an open lock hanging from the ring. Curiosity drives you forward as you slip the metal through the loop. Shouta has already moved on to the closet, sliding hangers around to see where he can put his things. You hold the cold steel in your hand, pressing it down to warm it in your grip while the other lifts the heavy lid. 

You laugh. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. Because you’re met with leather and silk and silicone. All things you should’ve expected to find, but didn’t. 

“Why am I not surprised?” You jump at his sudden voice behind you, the top snapping shut when you startled enough to lose your grip on it. Your cheeks heat up with sharp embarrassment, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t be. Which, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be so nervous. But just as soon as the talking stopped, so had the sex. You laugh again, this time strained, as you stand up, slipping the lock back into the ring and opening a drawer to the dresser. 

“It is Nemuri’s house after all,” you say in an attempt to keep the conversation light, afraid to touch on any of the tense parts of your relationship. He goes back into the closet with another nod of his head, eyes tired and distant. When he disappears from your sight you release a quiet sigh, resting your head against the edge of the dresser. The thick wood digs into your forehead, the pressure grounding you enough to steady your racing heartbeat. Dull thuds dropping low into your chest cavity before you pull away to begin unpacking your things.

It’s a silent affair. The two of you wordlessly step around each other to empty out your bags. It’s difficult to pinpoint when exactly the silence started to loom over you like a dense fog. Harder to say when that fog became so opaque you could no longer see him through it. Just that it’s there, haunting and melancholic. 

Once everything is squared away into its temporary home, you take yourself on a tour around the house as Shouta showers. The bathroom is just as grandiose as the rest of the house. A standalone shower is built into one corner, while a tub that looks large enough to fit three people is propped beneath a window– the ocean a clear shot away. 

You wonder how they lucked out on such great real estate without having seen it first. And you are too scared to even ask how much they paid for this damn place. But it’s still too luxurious for you to complain, the beach seen from nearly every angle of the house. As you wander further into the cottage style home you come across the kitchen, it’s smaller than what you would’ve expected compared to everything else. The cabinets were white with delicate marble countertops. A small mobile island is wheeled into the center, the base the same color as the outside of the house. 

You take your phone from out of your pocket, texting Nemuri about how impressed you are with this gem of a home. A rare find you’d describe it as. Especially considering that the dining room had a tiny breakfast nook with a bay window, a design you are sure isn’t built into many of the modern homes lining the rest of the road. There is even an extra room with a desk and daybed, the color scheme just as funky as the living room’s, navy blue and sage green flooding the space. 

She texts you back when you reach the deck, your hands on the railing as you inhale the smell of salt and sand. The sun is still high in the sky for late afternoon, the rays beating down on the top of your head make it hard to read the words on your too dimmed screen. 

Nemuri

I knew you’d love it! 

You smile because she knows you well, always on the nose when it comes to reading you like a book. There’s a beat as you watch the typing bubbles appear and disappear at the bottom of the screen, your hand is shielding your eyes so you could see your phone better. You hesitate in replying, waiting for her to finish her thought before you say anything. And soon enough your phone vibrates in your hand, her words sending a weird pang through your chest.

Nemuri

Just promise you and Shouta will be okay?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, a frown tugging at the edges of your lips. She is worried about you two, given everything that has transpired over the last year. And you couldn’t blame her really. It’s difficult enough trying to talk the students down from their ledges, but you? She has seen you break down more than you wanted her to in the last few months. 

From You

I’ll let you know

You keep it brief, no promises. Low expectations. That will stay your mantra for this trip. Because you don’t think you can handle any more disappointment. Not when you hear the shower turn off as you enter the living room again. Not when instead of coming out to look for you, he stays in the bedroom. Door closed. Steps unheard. 

“Something’s wrong,” you say into your cup of steaming coffee. You stare at the leaf design from the froth swirl around your cappuccino. Even inside you can feel the sharp bite of winter through the wide window you sit beside. You’re hoping for snow this year, maybe an inch or so that would make the city feel clean and new, even for just a minute. So far there has been nothing. Nothing but bitter cold and slicing winds. Frigid enough to make your joints ache and your heart freeze over. 

“What do you mean by wrong?” Nemuri asks, keeping her eyes out the window, knowing that if she trained them on you, you would crawl back into yourself. It had taken her weeks of pleading to get you to hang out, just the two of you. Your excuses running out when she cornered you in your office and strode you off of campus for lunch. Except you weren’t hungry. Your appetite was long gone for a while now. 

“Shouta and I,” you start, finger sliding over the rim of the mug, dipping in slightly and burning the tip of your finger. “We haven’t been talking. I hardly see him anymore. I don’t know. Something’s just… wrong.”

Nemuri taps the table with a nail, mulling it over in her head as she tilts it to the side. Eyes still cast on the people bustling by.

“And I don’t wanna push or pry given all the new information we’ve received. I know he’s trying to sort it out himself, in his own head. I just can’t help but feel like I’m losing him. All of him,” you continue, for the sake of getting it off of your chest before you could overthink it. You turn to look out the window only to be met with her gaze locked on your reflection. 

Contemplative and sympathetic.

You want to cower, hide behind the carefully constructed mask you have been presenting to the world each day. But she knows you better than that. Can see straight through it despite all of your best efforts. 

“And what does that look like? Losing him?” She asks, as if it was that easy to put into words. Because it sounds like something physical, tangible. Like he’s there one day and then gone the next. But instead he’s always there within arm’s reach, never close enough to touch, but close regardless.

You work together, run in the same circle of friends, and interact with all the same students. You’re with him every time you sign your own name. Your first always followed by his last. But no, losing him doesn’t look like anything. It just feels like everything. All at once. 

“Nothing. It looks like nothing,” you admit, plainly because it’s the truth. “Because when I try to imagine a life without him I can’t.”

She nods like she understands. Or maybe she is simply acknowledging you, the version of you that is finally opening up again. So you went on, breaking the hold she has on your gaze and taking a sip of your coffee.

“It feels like hell though,” you say, glancing up at her profile before fixating on your mug again. “Like I finished this puzzle that I’ve been working on forever, only to find there’s a random piece missing every time I come back to it.”

“Hmm.” It’s thoughtful, the hum that vibrates through her closed lips, parting them only to wrap them around her straw. An iced coffee, even though it was practically freezing outside. The drink left a ring of condensation on the glossy, wooden tabletop, and you can’t help but want to swipe it away with your fingers. 

“What’s missing?” She asks, eyes unwavering from your tired form. The hunch in your shoulders seemingly permanent from exhaustion. And they slump over even further with her million dollar question. One that you are always brushing off with a simple “I don’t know.” Until all of your I don’t know’s were stacked so tall you could no longer see the top. And soon enough they will come toppling over, burying you beneath the damage of your own creation.

“The easiest answer is communication,” you say, matter of factly, your tone switching into the one you use in your sessions with your students– your therapist voice. “But then there’s the new problem of intimacy, or better the lack thereof.”

You cringe at the confession, even though you were stating everything as clinically as possible, it still hurts to admit. “And then there’s us. The old us, the pre-marriage us. Those people are missing and I’m not sure we can ever go back to being them.”

Your voice cracks, your vocal cords scratchy and betraying you. Nemuri reaches over the table for your hand, her palm warm and welcoming after so long without physical touch. Which you can understand, surely anyone running from their feelings wouldn’t want to touch the one person that could read them with slight skin to skin contact. Tears are beginning to burn the back of your throat, and you clear your throat to try to suppress them. Crying in the middle of a cafe wouldn’t be the ideal situation at the moment. 

“How about you two get away?” She proposes, unbridled hope lacing her tone. Hope that you missed hearing in your own voice. “We have that beach house out in Okinawa?”

The offer made you chuckle, remembering the conversation you had that Monday morning after winter break. The one where she admitted that she and Hizashi stayed up late one night blowing their money on solely the pictures of a house on the beach. 

“I still can’t believe you guys did that,” you laugh, tight but relieved. “But I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“Aw, come on,” she insists, squeezing your hand, familiar and encouraging. “It might be exactly what you need. Alone time can solve so much and with everything going on, it may be nice to get away for a while. Enjoy the ocean, y’know, for free.” 

You think it over. The offer is enticing, but is it enticing enough to just pack up and leave with the man you haven’t spoken more than pleasantries with in over a month? 

Nemuri squeezes your hand again, this time with glowing enthusiasm, like she knows you’re going to say yes. That with her looking at you the way she was, eyes sparkling with expectation, smile soft and inviting— that you won’t refuse her, can’t say no. So you choose the next best thing. 

“I’ll think about it,” you say, squeezing her hand back, hoping that was enough to appease her. “Mainly because it’s cold as fuck out and there’s no way in hell I’m going to the ocean in the dead of winter.” 

And she laughs, with a shake of her head, eyes still holding a sadness for you that you want to hate, but can’t bring yourself to. 

“Fine,” she responds, leaning away from you, fingers still intertwined with yours. “We'll revisit this next season. Don’t think I won’t.”

The sunset is brilliant. Glorious shades of orange and gold bathe the bathroom in a warm glow. The white tiles shimmer in the light as you step into the shower. You had entered the master only after Shouta left it. He’s so quiet you didn’t notice when he joined you out on the deck. Feeling his presence a few feet beside you before you acknowledged it.

“Great view,” you say, breaking another deafening silence with idle small talk. And he simply nods, forearms braced on the railing as he takes it all in. You try not to feel uncomfortable in your own skin, out of place next to the man that you share a bed with. You try not to feel like you need to fill every lull in conversation with something. It all just makes you miss the ease of your relationship– the comfort you used to find in each lull. Or the serenity you remember swaddling yourself so tightly in. You’d stayed for a few beats longer before excusing yourself to shower. Maybe scrubbing your body clean will also wash away the icky feeling settled deep against your bones.

The water is scolding when it hits you. The sensation is nearly painful at first until you get used to it. And you stand there. Drowning out the rest of the world and cornering yourself in your own thoughts. Everything kind of blends together in a murky mixture of stress and dread. You take an unsteady breath. It stutters in your chest, all of the functions that should be natural suddenly foreign and tedious. And they all seem to be laced with an undeniable pain, like you're being stung by a bee every moment you dwell on the circumstances that brought you here. Which seems to be every single moment you're awake.

And then in an effort to distract yourself you think of the students, and how they must be feeling and coping and navigating through their own emotions. You think of Eri and the mounting guilt of not being near her, even though she’s in capable hands. Hands that will ensure her safety and security. It’s still difficult to not feel selfish. Selfish for running away to figure your shit out, for prioritizing your relationship when so many fucked up events have been piling one on top of another. For abandoning her and taking away the person she felt so much trust in. 

And you know Shouta must feel the same. It had been difficult convincing him to even come out here given how busy the two of you have been. He thought it would be silly to leave for a month. To abandon such strenuous situations and for what? A vacation? A marriage?

It all feels so goddamn trivial. 

But you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling from scratching at your brain. Telling you to grab this opportunity, to not waste it and to be selfish. Just once. For the sake of your heart and his. Regardless of not knowing where his stands. You should still try.

The water runs cold, the only thing drawing you out of your thoughts and reminding you of where you are. You rinse off the stray bubbles left behind by your body wash before shutting off the shower spray. The sun is also much lower in the horizon than you would’ve guessed. Time having escaped you.

You towel off, choosing to focus on your night time routine. The one thing you still have full control over. As you rub lotion into your arms, methodically and with devout care, there’s a knock on the door. Shouta not waiting for an answer before he comes in. You look at him through the mirror, taking in the same black long sleeve that’s always hugging his body and the way he leans up against the door frame. Like he’s too exhausted to hold up his own weight. 

“Hey,” he says, voice slightly hoarse from under use, eyes barely meeting yours through the glass. “I’m gonna go into town to grab some dinner.”

Your motions slow, swallowing the spit that had gathered in your mouth before nodding in acknowledgment. 

“Hizashi had texted me some restaurants he thought we should try, so I’ll probably head to one of those,” he continues, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow while his stare moves to look out the window opposite him. 

“Yeah, ok,” you nod again, adjusting the towel that’s secured around your chest. “I should be ready soon if you don’t mind waiting.”

The response is instinctual. Usually out of courtesy since his typical answer would’ve been, “No, I don’t mind.” Followed by a kiss to your temple, a teasingly snide comment about taking your time thrown over his shoulder. 

Instead he shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest before finally meeting your gaze. The one that has been locked on him from the moment he stepped into the bathroom.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t wanna interrupt you. Just wanted to give you a heads up.” As if this is so inconveniencing to you. The idea of accompanying him around town, spending more time with him. To grab dinner. For the both of you.

How terribly inconvenient. 

“Oh, of course, yeah,” you stammer, swiping at a strand of hair that had fallen into your vision. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Mm,” he hums through closed lips, pushing himself off of the door frame preparing to walk out. “I’ll call you when I get there for your order.”

“No need. Just get me whatever, I,” you pause, swallowing around nothing, “...trust you.”

It sounds strained, even to your own ears. The words said in your voice but not sounding like you at all. He breaks eye contact, however minimal it was, and wordlessly leaves. The solitude you had grown accustomed to, maybe even comfortable in, is now feeling like a chasm. Your thoughts echoing in the growing distance, bouncing off of concrete walls and driving you towards your insanity. 

Some odd hours pass before Shouta returns, take-out containers balancing in his palm as he locks the door behind him. You’re out on the deck again, stars clear and twinkling above your head as your knees are curled into your chest. The waves are calm as they lap at the shore, rhythmic as they draw the evening nearer. The breeze is chillier than you would’ve expected, your thin cardigan barely suppressing the shiver crawling down your spine. You watch as he pulls plates from the cabinets, opening lids off of the containers before serving it. You hesitate, walking over to him. There’s a gravitational pull there, one that has you wanting to be around him and in his presence, but you fight it. Not wanting to cross the new, unspoken boundaries. But once you reach him, hands splaying out on the cool marble surface, you decide not to overthink it. To treat this getaway for what it is. One day at a time. And to accept every hour with a curious stride. 

He hands over a bowl of katsu curry, sliding it across the island until it meets your fingertips. The food is still hot, steam curling over the bowl, the smell of spices warming your soul. He tilts his head towards the dining room table, hardly lit up by the kitchen lamp and crisp moonlight. Yet you follow, sitting across from him, in what would be a romantic dinner. Small, quiet, and intimate. Except you know that isn’t the case. Your nights of romantic dinners are long behind you. Instead you eat in silence, just the sounds of utensils hitting ceramic, your chewing grating at your eardrums. 

But the realization hits you halfway through, that while this dinner is being eaten in fiddly silence. It’s the first dinner you’ve eaten together in quite a long time. Just the two of you. And you glance at him after every bite of food, stare as his jaw works down his meal. And it’s painful how much you miss him. The longing that’s embedded so deeply into your body, it feels like indigestion. 

How did you get here? So far removed from the individuals you used to be? The unit that you created together that was so unbreakable? How did either of you allow it to crack and crumble into a heap of debris?

The bar is crowded and loud. You are corralled into a corner booth, bag squished against your hip as Aizawa sits, cross-armed beside you. He’s chatting with Mic, or moreso listening and nodding while Mic takes him on a whirlwind of a story. You are feeling intrusive, like you’re barging into established friendship dynamics without permission. You squirm, the heat of awkwardness making your hands clammy and your clothes feel entirely too heavy. 

It’s the Friday after your first week. The adjustment period of being in a new country and starting a new job is still fresh. So you surprise yourself when you agree to go out tonight. Not that there was much room for negotiation when Midnight pouted, pleaded, and held your hand all the way off campus. Mic and Aizawa showed up afterwards, your cheeks getting warm when Aizawa decided to slip into the seat next to you.

It’s juvenile, the fast-paced crush you formed on Aizawa. It’s mostly surface level since you didn’t know him well, but you were smitten regardless after he helped you pick up your fallen paperwork on your first day. Even walking you over to your office before the school day officially started. He was nice, if not a little bit distant. Courteous and attentive, especially with all of your nervous rambling. You were stupidly taken with him. But you knew better than to get involved with anyone right now, or to even entertain the idea of it. 

Yet, you’re still nervously sweating and at a loss for words simply because he was sitting next to you. How schoolgirl of you. 

Thankfully Midnight shows up with the drinks, all very precariously balanced in her hands as she slides in next to Mic. She rests the gin and tonic you ordered in front of you, clapping her hands once before she turns all the attention towards you.

“So,” she starts, taking a sip of her drink, “what brings Miss America all the way to UA?” 

You choke on a laugh, her forwardness still needing some time to get used to. “Well, employment mostly. I kind’ve applied on a whim, thought my skill set could really work here. Next thing I knew I was getting a call with a job offer and a month to move halfway across the world.”

“Skill set?” Aizawa asks, arms still crossed over his chest, your lingering gaze absolutely betraying you. And you nod, taking a sip far larger than you should’ve before you answer his question.

“Yeah, I have a few years of experience working in a private practice for counseling, so I decided to try my hand at school counseling. Kinda needed a change of pace, I guess,” you shrug, looking at him over the rim of your glass. 

“And your quirk?” He asks abruptly, Mic throwing a crumpled up straw wrapper at him. Midnight laughs, head thrown back against the back of the booth when Aizawa glares.

“You can’t just ask people that, ya fucking weirdo,” Mic says, all teasing with an eyebrow quirked and eyes looking at him over his tinted glasses. 

“Why not?” Aizawa sounds almost offended at the call out, finally reaching for his scotch and bringing it to his lips. 

“What are we? In prison?” Midnight laughs, hand resting on her chest as she tries to calm her laughter, leaning on Mic as they both collectively lose it. 

“It’s a valid question, is it not?” He turns his head to look at you. “Is it not?” He asks again, this time with a slight upturn of his lips, definitely amused but standing his ground. 

“I mean, technically, yes, but it was a little out of nowhere,” you say with a chuckle, head in your hand as Midnight and Mic laugh harder. They love getting a rise out of him, apparently. Using each other to egg him on until he caves. And it was entertaining to say the least. Watching the three of them, so obviously familiar with one another, be so open and fun. It’s refreshing, has the tight bubble of anxiety living in your chest since the move, ease a little. And for the first time all week you relax some, shoulders untensing, back slumping into the booth behind you. Aizawa seems to notice, his small smile softening a bit around the edges as the both of you take another sip of your respective drinks.

“So?” He urges, head tilting in emphasis. 

“We all are kinda curious,” Midnight agrees, finally composed enough to get back to the round of questioning. “Especially after Principal Nezu was all secretive about it.”

This has your eyebrows furrowing, confused as to why he kept it a secret when it wasn’t one. It took you longer than normal to gain control over it, oftentimes overstimulating you when you couldn’t reel it in. But since then you’ve mastered it, and it has really helped establish rapport with many of your patients over the years.

“That’s odd,” you say, wringing your hands in your lap, suddenly nervous. “The best way to explain it though would be emotional regulation. My quirk is activated through physical touch, which is the primary limitation. But once that contact happens, it’s like an exchange of emotions. I feel what you feel, and in turn I can swap it with another feeling in order to calm you down.”

“Sounds tricky,” Mic chimes in, nodding thoughtfully. “So when you say swap…?”

“Let’s say you get irrationally angry and you can’t self-regulate that anger, as long as I can touch any part of you,” you hold out your hand in demonstration. “I’ll take some of that anger and replace it with something like apathy. Only problem is, I retain whatever I take out. That’s the tricky part.”

“So how do you stop yourself from getting irrationally angry too?” Aizawa asks, body facing you now, curiosity written all over his face. 

“Nothing in particular, but when I was training it was hard to redirect that emotion on my own. Kind of like the feelings were too big for my body. But every feeling can be a productive feeling if you know what to do with it.”

They all stare at you, questions clear on their expressions– the attentiveness making you uncomfortable. Explaining your quirk always feels complicated, the nuances you discovered over time only ever complicating the explanation. When your quirk first showed up, it manifested into you being a very irritable, sensitive child. Since you had little to no control over it, being in a room full of people always made you dizzy. Even if the touch was just a graze, you were plagued with migraines. It wasn’t until your parents managed to send you to a quirk specialist that you fully realized the depths of your quirk. After that, it was a battle of will and ambition to get you where you were today. 

“Try it on me.” Midnight holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers in your direction. “Tell me how I’m feeling.”

She’s giddy, mischief alight in her irises as her smile broadens. 

“This isn’t some party trick,” you tease, taking her hand despite your reservations. You glance at their faces before you activate your quirk, all eyes focused on where your hands are joined. You feel the tingling in your fingertips first, then an itching hot sensation radiates across your palm. Midnight’s fingers twitch beneath your hand, and you conjure up a feeling of tranquility to exchange for whatever emotion she gives you. 

But the shock hits you first, your body temperature rising with a deep fluttering low in your belly. And you gasp, pulling your hand from hers so quickly you almost knock over Aizawa’s drink. You flush, eyes wide as you stare at her in disbelief. She’s suppressing a smirk, and you can’t help the breathless chuckle that bubbles up your throat. 

“You’re ridiculous, Midnight,” you say, pressing your fingertips into your warm cheek. Mic’s laugh booms over the table when he realizes what just happened, slapping the table hard enough to make the glasses rattle. 

“You didn’t?” He cackles, face red from the alcohol. Midnight just looks smug, entertainment all over her features. And your heart is still thudding densely in your chest, lust that is not your own still coursing through you. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” she says, shrugging before urging you to take another drink, surely looking as flustered as you feel. “And call me Nemuri, now that we’ve gotten a little intimate.” 

She winks, flashing a cheeky smile that has you shaking your head and looking away. Your gaze wanders over to Aizawa, who is stock still, eyes narrowed at you inquisitively and a dusting of pink over his cheekbones. You’re already feeling some type of way after using your quirk on Midnight. Your skin is just that much more sensitive, your body’s senses heightened to an annoyingly high level of awareness. None of that being helped by his indifferent stare, the kind that looks like he’s studying you, trying to figure you out. It makes you shift in your seat before Mic and Midnight’s raucous chatter brings you back. 

He’s hard to read. His face is perfectly blank when he wants it to be. But right now he’s an open book. The openness in his expression is subtle, but there’s a burning interest there. His lips are in a thin line, like he’s contemplating something. And before he can say whatever was on the tip of his tongue, Mic calls his name. The odd spell he had you under is effectively broken. 

Yet, you still feel like you’re being held under his gaze. The stare going straight to your toes, your skin layered in a thin sheen of sweat. And you don’t know whether to blame the alcohol, or Midnight for the unexpected kick of arousal. Or Aizawa. For simply being him and looking at you the way that he was.

And when your body heats up again of its own volition, you have your answer. 

Morning creeps in quicker than you expected. Despite the fact that you’re on vacation and that all of your alarms have been turned off, you still wake up with the first rising of the sun. The first day’s sun rays are peeking through the soft white curtains, and when you turn over, away from the direct sunlight in your eyes, you find Shouta’s side of the bed empty.

You fumble around the sheets in search of your phone, yanking it from the charger when the cool plastic case meets your fingers. The screen lights up, 6:48AM shining down brightly at you and you sigh, wishing that you slept in just a few minutes later. And also wishing that you hadn’t woken up alone again.

After dinner, you stayed up to wash the dishes. Not much cleaning needed to be done, since you had eaten take out. Shouta had gone to bed, having set up on his side of the bed and tucked himself in by the time you went to join him. He had left the lamp on your nightstand on, his hair loose on his pillow as he faces the opposite direction. When you’d finally settled in beside him there might as well have been a wall of pillows between you. Both of your bodies rested on the edges of the mattress. Sleep came slowly after that, even with the exhaustion melting you into the bed. And once it did arrive, it was restless. Your mind, body, and heart fighting it off like a virus. 

The rest of the house is just as quiet, which is to be expected, when you gather the strength to get up and out of bed. Shouta isn’t anywhere to be found, but the coffee pot has freshly brewed coffee in it. The smell is delicious, sending a spark of life through your veins as your feet lead you straight to it. You prepare it before you go looking for Shouta, mug warming up your palms as you walk around the house and opening all the blinds. The natural light bouncing off the vibrancy of the living room furniture and bringing some extra life into the home. 

You end up finding Shouta in the second bedroom, perched at the desk with his back facing you and hunched over his laptop. You hadn’t realized he packed it, the opportunity to catch up on work not evading him. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence in the doorway, and if he does, he makes no motion to acknowledge it. You’re in a sticky predicament. On one hand you want to greet him. Want to call out to him with an airy good morning just to seek the attention you so badly crave from him. On the other, you can’t seem to. The possibility of crushing disappointment freezing you in your spot, vocal cords locked in your throat, dry and unused. 

So you leave, the space in the doorway empty again. And the pounding thought that you should maybe try harder bumps between your temples. That it isn’t fair for you to wait around for him to make the first move. To expect something akin to an apology when in reality neither of you has done anything wrong. Not in the all consuming, soul crushing way. But more in the “what decision in our past led us here” kind of way. 

You had no idea how long he would hole himself up in there for, taking the liberty to go through the cabinets to look for things that you’d need for the stay. Groceries, obviously. Luckily, the place is fully stocked with dishes, utensils, and kitchen appliances. Clearly, either Nemuri or Hizashi had someone come out to make sure everything was in order for your getaway. So you make a list of food to buy, deciding to spend the morning at the local farmers market and grocery store. With the hope that maybe by then Shouta and you could spend some time together. Even if it is spent in another pregnant silence. 

The car keys are on the kitchen counter, after some quick googling and an outfit change, you leave. The sun hitting you first, the heat would be suffocating if you weren’t directly next to the ocean. The breeze a welcome companion beneath the summer sun. You send Shouta a text saying you were heading out, using the excuse of not wanting to disturb him while he worked, instead of the real reason. Which felt a lot like avoiding and sneaking out like an unruly teenager. 

It’s hard for you to rationalize your own behavior sometimes. Because you want him and you want this. To save your marriage from the failure that felt so near. But you actively made decisions that went against that very desire. Which is plainly idiotic. And makes a squirmy, inky feeling swirl around in your chest. Like an eel slithered in there at some point, electrocuting your senses whenever they seemed to dull towards the side of stupidity. 

The key sticks in the lock, making you have to use more force than you anticipated when twisting it. You pull the door harder against the frame to ease the slide of the lock in place before heading down the porch steps, your eyesight obscured by the sun blaring heavily above your head. And as you reach the final step a sharp yowl is met beneath your foot. A flash of fur bolting across your sandy driveway before it stops beside your car, licking its back out of habit. 

The cat is small and scraggly. Mostly white with a splotch of orange around its face and another of black on its spine. And you frown, guilt in your stomach as you pause at the end of the steps— eye contact intense enough to feel your soul being peered into. You immediately squat down to its level, maintaining the distance in case you’ve already frightened it and hold out a steady hand. You wiggle your fingers while making kissy noises hoping that it would see you as a friend instead of the threat you initially introduced yourself as. 

“Hey little guy,” you coo, voice high and tinny. “Sorry for stepping on you.” 

It only looks at you for a second, eyes shifting from your face down to your beckoning fingers. As if contemplating whether you truly are friend or foe. You curl in towards your knees, making yourself smaller in an attempt to lessen the chances of it walking away from you. Because it really is cute. A gorgeous long haired coat that is in need of some grooming and care, but still elegant against the beachy backdrop.

And you silently cheer when it stretches, front legs extended towards you in a luxurious bend. And you openly smile when it struts your way, tiny confidence in every step until its wet nose meets your fingertips, sniffing until it decides in the end that you are friend and rubs its head against your knuckles. 

You get a few good pets in, realizing quickly that ‘it’ is actually a boy. When he seems to be through with you he makes his way up the porch steps and lounges in the first swatch of light he sees. 

“Koi,” you say aloud, naming him as soon as the name hits you. The patches of different colored fur reminds you of a koi fish, making it rather fitting. You glance down at your list of things needed, digging the pen from out of your pocket and jotting down cat food right at the end. 

You pray as you head down the driveway that you don’t get lost, the service on the island patchy enough to give up using the GPS on your cell phone. Most of the roads are straight forward though, signs on every corner with a cute hand painted one adorning the entry to the farmers market. You turn on another gravelly road, parking in an open land of grass near some of the other parked cars. 

It’s all so vibrant. The fruits and vegetables under the overhangs of the stands, the overhangs themselves painted and decorated with colors so bright it’s hard to just focus on one. Not when all of them are so pretty. You get lost in between the stalls, an experience outside of your own body as you find peace feeling vegetables for firmness and smelling fruits for fragrance. You had a basket with some tote bags in the car, filling two of them with fresh produce that wafts up to your nose with every swish of your arms. 

You definitely over purchased, rifling through possible recipes in your mind as you make your way back to the car. The heat is starting to get thicker, heavy enough to have sweat trickling down your temple from your hairline. You check the time and it’s barely 11 am, your stomach rumbling to remind you that you’ve skipped breakfast. You still have to stop at the grocery store before heading back to the house, and yet you never received a text back from Shouta. Not even with suggestions on what he would want or need from the store. It’s hard for you not to read into it. Difficult to cut your brain off from the train of thought that what if when you returned, he was gone. Bags packed, every trace of him just erased from this existence. Like you imagined the whole thing.

It’s silly. A bit dumb on your part. He’s never once let you down, yet you sit here and doubt the man you’re desperately in love with. For what? A few moments of emotional distance and your walls are building and his are seemingly impenetrable. Frustrating to say the least. With yourself and the whole evolution of your marriage. Because it has only been a year and it’s like it’s already over. The hopeless feeling you battle daily seeping into your psyche before the hot metal of the car handle draws you back. The skin of your palm burns with how long you left it sitting there. 

The grocery store is just down the road from the market, the parking lot oddly empty for this time of the day. The residents here are friendly, smiling as you push your cart down the aisle. And helpful when you ask where certain items are. This stop moves much quicker than the last, your body seeking nourishment as a pressure headache starts to build behind your eyes and another cup of coffee begins to call your name. You hadn’t realized you purchased so much until the trunk was full and overflowing with bags. And you dread taking them all up the porch steps when you get back home. 

But you are pleased to see Koi still waiting for you. Smiling at his little body perched on a step and yawning wide as he watches you pull into the driveway. You pile most of the bags up your arms, teetering side to side from the uneven weight distribution as you make your way towards him. You struggle to unlock the door, dropping the keys when you miss the keyhole and laughing at yourself when you startle Koi and he runs into some shrubs. 

You hear the door unlock though as you’re bending down to pick up the key chain. The bags begin to dig into your forearms as you squat low to the ground. And before you stand up fully, the door swings open, hinges squeaking sharply as Shouta stands in the doorway, hand shielding his eyes while his gaze drifts down to where you’re kneeling. 

He arches an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for you to get up and when you don’t his brows furrow. You’re a little bit stunned. Surprised that he heard you coming. But also the way he’s looking at you has unexpected goosebumps erupting on your skin. The physical attraction you knew was always there, slamming into you and you don’t know how to react. Typically you’d make a move. Hell, you’d forget about the bags weighing your body down and climb him in the foyer. 

But nothing about the people you are now is typical. Odd shame washes over you for even feeling so attracted to him right now. For desiring him so devastatingly, it throws you off your steady footing. 

“Need a hand?” He’s leaning on the doorway with his elbow, still staring at you with slight confusion since you didn’t move. Your eyes travel down down his bicep, across his chest, up his neck, and finally to his face. And your ears heat up because you’ve taken too long to answer him.

“Huh?”

He squats in front of you, grabbing some of the plastic bags from where they’re barely hovering over the ground. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

When he’s careful not to touch your hands, avoiding your exposed skin like it’ll burn him, you remember he may not feel that same attraction anymore for you. The grimace that overwhelms you is hard to hide, and you just shuffle away from him. Sliding the bags from your forearms to help him grab a few. You refuse to meet his eyes when you stand, staring at your feet until he turns into the house and you can follow him. Guilt turns in your chest, attaches to the bout of lust you originally felt and almost disgusts you. It’s not like you did anything wrong, to feel this way for your fucking husband. But you feel young and small again. Not knowing how to navigate a feeling everyone tells young girls to feel so ashamed of. And you hate it. Hate reverting to someone you worked so hard to get away from. 

It sucks. All of it. So damn bad. 

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

[tired-teacher-blog]

Fluffy thirst here! Something about Softie Aizawa really gets me, ya know?

You go out with some fellow teachers after work to get some drinks and relax after a long week. Shouta tags along, saying something about how "someone needs to be your babysitter." He's not... wrong. You plan on drinking your weight, and let's face it, you're a bit of a dumbass, especially when drunk.

You and the gang are having a great time! Chatting, laughing, drinking. Suddenly, you're drunk, sooner than you think you should be, when you realize you got so busy in student meetings that you accidently skipped lunch. The alcohol was hitting you harder than anticipated, so you decided to head home. Shouta is a gentleman and takes you home, practically carrying you inside.

He's been over a number of times now and knows where you keep everything, how cold you like your water, what side of your bed you prefer to sleep on... so he helps you clean up. He brushes your hair and pulls it away from your face for you. He tucks you into bed and puts a movie on. He even goes to the kitchen to make your favourite drunk person food. He'll place a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaving, turning to sternly remind you to stay hydrated, but you can hear the softness in his voice that he only uses with you. You give him a lopsided grin.

He'll stay the night on your couch in case you need him for anything 💚

- 🐺

I love softie -but only for you- Aizawa! Seems canon too.

He doesn't have to do any of these things to be honest, especially going out and staying up late in crowded places like clubs or bars, but he's willing to do it all for you.

Even if he pretends it's bothersome, you can tell he likes it when you lean on him and smile lazily while mouthing a quiet thank you.

He's a man of few words, almost none of which he would use to express his feelings but it's totally fine, because his actions speak louder anyway.

And when his gaze softens, his smile appears, and his touch soothes, you realize the sincerity of this man's unspoken words of love.

#🐺 anon #this is amazing #and adorable #i love it so much #thank you sweetheart for sharing this awesomeness with me #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota x y/n #aizawa imagine #aizawa headcanons #aizawa shota x reader #bnha aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shota x you #aizawa shouta fluff #shota aizawa fluff #shouta aizawa fluff #aizawa fluff

[dabihawksluvr]

Aizawa Is A Bad Teacher

[ NOTE: The questions I screenshot are from another account, I just couldn't find a way to get them all into one post without it being messy. So this is just me answering each one, to give my own perspective. ]

I think it's because Shinsou is a LOT like him, but yeah it's still very shitty for him to do. He should've been the class 1B teacher instead.

This is why I never really liked Aizawa, he reminds me of my abusers way too much and I didn't like how strict/careless he truly is.

I hope that, if he did ever have a kid, it would be the biggest wakeup call of his life. And we do see him treat Eri fairly, but that could be because of her quirk and how she's literally only 4/5 years old. Kinda can't treat a kid the same way he treats his students without being seen as a villain.

From what I've seen, that was supposed to be the case. But Shouta feels like a lesser version of Batman, at least the latter actually cared about his Robins (depends on the canon but majority of Batmans do). With Aizawa, we do not need that same care unless it's with Shinsou.

I think it was even canon that Aizawa just hates All Might for being 'too forgiving' on his enemies. But I've also never seen him favor Endeavor either, I think he just hates people in general.

All Might is a decent teacher, at least he considers everyone's thoughts/feelings and dynamics with one another. Aizawa has not once done that, unless it deals with the troublemakers (Bakugou and Izuku) or that one time when Ochako blamed herself for that one time (though I bet it was just his own trauma and being like 'hey I understand this so let me go fix a mistake I made with myself years ago' kind of thing). The ONLY good point Aizawa has is when he says 'live for the students' to All Might when it was clear the old man had given up on living. But that is ONE point, out of so many others where Aizawa fucked up.

YES. Aizawa is a liar, if he believes these are all a 'logical ruse' then he is really fucked up in the head. I am glad that he made some (very minimal) progress when it was found out that Oboro was Kurogiri, I think the guy just has a ton of trauma he needs to work through and that was the first step. I do think how he is now is better than before, at least now he seems to actually care about his students and he realizes he fucked up badly. Just wish it was before he got his leg and eye taken away, essentially making his quirk trash.

Ugh, having Aizawa as a teacher would be the worst. I did get along with teachers that were like All Might and the rest, but Aizawa would be my 13th reason for finally dropping out. Especially if it was young/teen me? Yeah, he'd be on for 2nd degree murder with my suicidal ass.

THIS. I understand they are training to be heroes, and in this specific circumstance it worked. But ONLY because they were all going to war, which btw Aizawa didn't even stop from happening at all (he did have a heel-face turn during the 1st war which was nice to see as we saw him start to care for his students but it was ONLY thanks to Deku saying losing him would be the worst thing ever). Maybe it's because he held himself to that same standard, so he thinks all future heroes should be the same...but he is damn lucky none of them became a villain, though that was because Deku brought them all together simply by being himself. Aizawa was NOT needed, aside from his quirk he was essentially useless as a person. An maybe he knew that, it wasn't until Deku that he saw some value in living on (which is why he cut off his leg - normally he wouldn't have done that).

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

tl;dr - Aizawa is a bad teacher. He is too strict with his teachings, makes assumptions that he rarely ever changes, outright LIES to his own students, puts his students in danger all the time, and cares more about a student from 1B (Shinsou) more than teaching his own class. But, we have to keep in mind that the man was traumatized by losing his friend Oboro (and then Midnight...and now possibly Mic) so he probably feels like his life isn't even worth it. And it wasn't him that wanted to be a teacher, it was actually Oboro. So he only took the job to fulfill his (dead) friend's dream, and it makes it clear why Aizawa is such a bad teacher. He didn't even want this, but feels obligated to regardless of what he truly wants. And yes, he did finally realize he cares for his students...but only when he finally lost the ability to use his quirk, meaning he has to rely on others now instead of just himself.

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #I have never been able to explain why I hate Aizawa so much #so this really helped me find the words #seriously Aizawa should have NEVER been a teacher #but hey Deku did change him too #it's always Deku who has to make those changes #and I hate that #feels like #Steven Universe Future #all over again

[bugs1nmybrain]

Shouta Aizawa Relationship Headcanons

18+! Fluff and NSFW below. Minors do NOT interact

This is meant for fem readers mostly, especially in the nsfw catergory

Affectionate in private, but usually comes up to you when you're not paying attention to him. He's like a cat.

Likes celery, popcorn, and black licorice (actually Canon)

If you go out in public with him, he'll stand 4 feet away from you to avoid someone assuming you guys are in a relationship (not that he doesn't love you, he just doesn't think it's anyone's business)

Does NOT Like PDA whatsoever

Won't say I love you often, but will show it in numerous ways. Soft looks at you, low hums when he thinks something you do is cute, nuzzling in the crook of your neck, acts of service such as washing your hair in the shower, giving you advice

*for me in particular cuz I'm insecure* won't ever point it out but really enjoys your plush features. They make good pillows. He finds you warm and perfect cuddle material

If you get insecure about your body image he'll have a quick conversation with you. He's not exactly the most sympathetic about it, he simply tells you that doubting yourself isn't rational and you shouldn't think so shallow

Bring him food or coffee while he's working, he'll love you forever

WILL fall asleep in the bath

Enjoys taking naps with you, he's very sleeby

He's not bad at reassurance, but he's not going to coddle you

He does expect you to be mature but isn't against you being a little light hearted and silly (just, don't get unbearably annoying. He'll tell you if you are)

As stern and strict as he is with his students, he's pretty gentle towards you

Is honest with you and expects you to be as well

Can read your emotions very good and will probably ask you what's wrong, but he won't pry if you're not up to talking about it. He respects your boundaries

His kisses go one of two ways; gentle and quick or deep and passionate

His scruff tickles haha

Isn't exactly insecure about his leg, missing eye, or scars, but feels very loved when you kiss him all over and reassure him that he's handsome

He's very busy so sometimes he can't pay attention to you, but he makes up for it. He tries his best to make time for you

As much as he's the king of logic and rationality, he lets you slide with some things

Again, he doesn't say it a lot, but he loves you so much!!!!!

NSFW!! MINORS DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT

Won't have sex with you until he absolutely trusts you and feels comfortable

For the first couple of tries he's a little hesitant and shy

Doesn't have a ton of experience, but he's a fast learner

Very skilled with his hands

Likes pinning you down from behind (like he did to Dabi haha). It gives him a great view of your ass

His favorite position is missionary because it's convenient

Unless aftercare is absolutely necessary, will fall asleep immediately after climax

Isn't a big fan of quickies and likes taking his time

Pretty vanilla but can get a bit rough

Doesn't have a very high libido, sorry

Is he an ass or a boobs man?? Well, he truly likes both, but if he had to pick probably boobs cuz they're soft and cute and he likes to use them as pillows.

Don't worry if you don't like to shave down there, he doesn't care one bit. I mean uhhh, have you seen him?

Is about 6 inches, maybe a tiny bit more. Good girth too.

Does not and will not shave. He doesn't have the time, energy, or will to do so.

Pretty dominant but he does appreciate it when you give him a turn to be spoiled. He likes to lean back and relax while you give him head or ride him

Despite popular belief, he does NOT like to be called Daddy or Sensei. He thinks it's weird and makes him uncomfortable

HOWEVER, he won't mind I little "yes sir" here and there.

Wants so badly to cum inside you but he knows it's not very rational if you guys aren't looking to have kids anytime soon

Thinks you're absolutely gorgeous, but doesn't tell you. Instead he'll gently grope all the places he loves and kiss you all over your body

Feels so lucky to be intimate with you

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x fem reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa headcanons #aizawa smut

[annalyticall]

Chapter 5: Shouta: Stray

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships: Dabi/Hawks, Hawks & Lady Nagant, Aizawa & Lady Nagant, Aizawa & Dabi

Summary:

Katabasis (ka·​tab·​a·​sis): A going down or back; a journey into the underworld

The curated cogs of Hero Society can operate only on two conditions: villains will wreak havoc on the innocent, and heroes will bring those villains to justice. What might happen, then, when four outliers defy their world of black and white to repay the blood they owe?

An illustrated, canon-divergent Vigilante AU rotating POV between Aizawa, Lady Nagant, Hawks, and Dabi. Written by Annalytic and illustrated by LooseLeaf.

Preview:

“Eraserhead, how educated are you about how the Hero Public Safety Commission was founded?”

He shifts his weight a little, like a schoolboy sitting anxiously at his classroom desk. He wasn’t expecting a pop quiz. “As much as any UA graduate does, I suppose. It was founded during the Age of Vigilantes to legalize the use of quirks against villains.”

“Yes, and when it was first put in place, its founders realized citizens would need to put their unwavering faith in the Commission and its heroes for the system to work. Otherwise, the public would simply turn to unlicensed vigilantes to handle the dangerous jobs trained professionals should have taken for their safety. So, the Commission made the decision to… deal with the problems that put that faith into question. Those problems are the instigators. More than just petty villains, these targets incite nothing but chaos, both hero and villain alike. They shake the foundation. We cannot let it fail, and so we protect the peace at any cost. Sometimes that peace must come at the cost of their lives. That is where Lady Nagant comes into all of this.”

Shouta shakes his head. “I’m not sure I follow,” he says, although the path ahead is nothing but clear. He just doesn’t want to follow it.

Madame President gives him no choice in the matter.

#katabasis #my fic #aizawa shouta #dabi #mha #*shows up nine months late with a new chapter* hey

[cryptid-crawly]

can’t sleep. thinking about how fandom characterization of eraserhead is off the mark and we need more canon Aizawa appreciation.

the core aspects of Aizawa Shouta are: tired, Bastard, boring old man.

he may have dad energy but he’s a reluctant dad that doesn’t get that his neurodivergent kids need extra help bc he doesn’t realize he himself is neurodivergent and needs help. he’s the middle-aged dad that says we aren’t getting a pet dog and then he’s the pet dog’s favorite. he’s a rational downer that poops your party. he is the most boring man alive. this man does NOT fuck. he barely eats or sleeps or talks to other people. if he has free time that he isn’t spending napping he MAYBE goes out to pet some stray cats. you think this bitch goes to clubs? has one night stands? he can barely take care of himself why would he ever have prolonged interaction with another human being that wasn’t for work? and also he’s a total bastard. will fight for his kids? yes. absolute 100% bastard that causes grief on purpose bc he can? also yes. he’s trying, sure, but also he has his head up his ass and deserves to be put into a little jar and shaken a bunch.

i’m tired of sexy-wonderful-teacher-perfect-husband-material-best-dad fanon aizawa. I want more asshole-boring-mess-of-a-man canon aizawa

#Aizawa Shouta has the most boring life outside of his jobs and I will die on this hill #i love him so much #but bnha fandom doesn’t accept the truth that is his boring bastard old man self #he’s crotchety #bnha #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #to be clear I am NOT criticizing aizawa #i love that he’s a boring asshole and I think other people should to #something is so very wrong w him #the bnha fandom has the most off the mark characterizations I’ve ever seen #also Toshinori is also a bastard but in the fun way not in the AM bashing way #the thin line between everyone mischaracterizing bnha characters and also I want to bully all the canon versions so I kinda get it #but there’s ways to stay closer to canon and have more fun without turning the characters into smth else #i have a lot of thoughts about this #and I only just now remembered I have a blog to put those thoughts on #my stuff