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tobegiggledat · 1 year

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To Live is to Serve

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Yandere!Midnight x afab!reader (no pronouns)

✦warnings: past kidnapping, dubcon, mindbreak, toys (vibrator, dildo, collar, nipple clamps, harness), masturbation, squirting, exhibitionism/voyeurism, cameras

✦word count: 1.5k

A new week means a new beginning, but more importantly new rules, and as Nemuri’s pet you’ll be expected to uphold whatever instruction she has meticulously planned for that time.

There’s always been an elegance in her way of things, in the way she ensures her control extends past the windings of her whip and effortlessly seeps into the minds of those around her. It’s an influence one can desperately fight for an immunity against only to find each attempt that was made against it was evidence of that same control.

You were once a fighter too.

The moment the clock strikes 07:00, your body swiftly stirs from its sleep, although not a single alarm is to be heard as your awakening is the result of months of Nemuri’s rigid guidance to mold you into her pliant plaything.

A golden-lined, purple envelope she left for you rests on the mahogany of your bedside table. Your fingers tug softly at its glue to reveal the smoothly folded page inside before your bleary eyes scan over the glossy letters along it; relishing her usual, flowery paragraph at the beginning and glancing over the schedule provided.

It only takes a few rereads before her orders become intrinsic to you, with you noting her first rule by padding across the cold marble, and into your bathroom shower.

Your hands make graceful work of the silk robe along your body, daintily pulling at the strap in the center, then plucking at each button delicately as if it'll shatter from the slightest abrasive touch.

When you were initially brought into her home, you weren’t as willing to comply with her oppressive practices; destroying every gift she bought in an attempt to please you and discovering blind spots in her surveillance whenever you got changed.

But you found that her withering insistence and disappointed expressions began to burrow wounds in your heart, after all, she hadn’t really forced you to do much had she?

As time went on, you grew more interested in accepting her lifestyle, and inevitably realized that the gleaming arrangement of her features whenever she came home to your adorned body was the only thing you looked forward to.

The part of you that was fearful of your compliance had eventually diminished with each of her affectionate, but calculated touches.

She knows how to stimulate every part of you, so she must know what's best for you overall…

1) Begin the day with a warm shower, but be sure to bring yourself to orgasm exactly 2 times, with only your fingers.

Thick steam clouds cascade in the bathroom air as you recall the first task you’ve been assigned. When the water reaches your ideal temperature, you step beyond the glass opening, swirling beneath the water’s stream to coat your skin in glistening droplets then reaching for a cloth and bottle of soap to begin lathering your skin.

As the fibers brush over your breasts, you imagine the gentle swipes to be that of Nemuri's grazes, like the feel of her pointed nails tip-tapping along the curves of your neck and spine. It ignites the beginning flickers of heat needed for you to trail your fingers between your damp thighs, shamelessly caressing the outer lips of your sex in scissoring motions while your other hand presses against a wall to keep you balanced.

While your hands are occupied, your mind drifts to devise picturesque renderings of the curves of Nemuri's body—recreating the glow of her porcelain skin within the confines of your skull—imitating the past messy collisions you’ve had with it, all from the firing of arousal-driven neurons.

The pace of your fingertips begin to quicken with each thought before you’re frantically twisting your clit between your thumb and forefinger, rubbing along the slick sides of it until the building electricity seems to run down your legs, to the very soles of your feet. Your knees tremble as sharp jolts of pleasure saturate your nerves and surge through your limbs in prickling waves.

Your arousal reaches its peak with more erotic depictions flashing behind your eyelids. Despite the intensity being enough for you to hurl over and quiver from, the circular motions of your hand continue, parting your throbbing folds with glides then placing a curled finger into your opening and stroking along the ridges.

The desire for her consumes you, flesh to bone, it seeps into your lungs until you’re gasping at the lack of her presence.

Your next climax comes much quicker than the first as your senses have been heightened to spark from even the dullest touches. A brazen cry bleeds from your parted lips while the pressure in your core thrashes against your skin for escape, winding the convulsions of your walls before releasing them with a booming snap that sends you folding once more.

A stream of your tears mix with the dew on your cheeks to collect in a small drop at the base of your chin. You swipe at your puffy eyes before rinsing the remnants of your arousal off your thighs with a shallow stream of hot water and running a rag over your tender sex softly.

Once thoroughly cleaned, you bring the running faucet to a stop then reach for the nearest towel to begin skimming it over your shuddering, orgasm-fatigued body.

You make hurried steps toward your wardrobe, gaze glossing over the selection as you scan for the items mentioned in Nemuri's letter;

2) Put on the following items in the listed order; a leather collar with a ring, a red full-body harness, and weighted nipple clamps.

Your choice for the leather collar is a soft beige one with a small aluminum ring at the center. It fits snugly at the base of your neck, complementing your undertones and pairing well with the vermillion stripes across your hips and chest. You fiddle with the little charms dangling from your nipples as you pose teasingly for the monitor above your dresser, wondering if your body stirs Nemuri’s desire for you the way her mere viewership alters your arousal and every thought.

3) Open the box beneath your bed.

4) Use the small vibrator to the very left; cum once then use the vibrator and middle dildo to cum two more times.

The rich violet box was tucked where expected, you gather the contents inside before placing a velvet towel underneath you then reaching for a bottle of lube on your nightstand.

Your bare legs part in preparation of what’s to come, and with your exposed folds presented to the air, you grab the toy and untuck your swollen clit for better contact.

The vibrator is flat and tucks securely into the crook of your fingers as it’s placed softly against your peeking nub. When the raging vibrations begin, your thighs snap around the sides of your arm in a stifling embrace, trapping it with the strength of a starving predator's jaws that has a meal between its teeth.

You briefly ponder what her alluring cerulean irises would look like as she ogles at your display from behind a screen.

Would she be amused at the desperate contortions you make of your body just for a morsel of the sweet coos she purrs when you’ve been so obedient for her?

Wherever she is, you hope she’s watching diligently—oh god—you hope she’s watching you.

“My, my”, she’d murmur into the crevices of your ear if she were lying beside you, her plump lips curving upward with want. “All this for me?”

The thought alone sends your head spinning, with white consuming your vision as you’re suddenly propelled past the cusp of your climax. Breathy pants escape your mouth in broken pieces, but your pussy is still begging for more stimulation, so you lather the girthy dildo in your fluids and a bit of lube, and start to nudge at your opening.

Lust kindles in your abdomen until it outbursts from behind your teeth in a soft shriek as the silicone head stretches your flexing walls around it.

Cool beads of sweat coat your skin in a faint sheen, trickling salt onto your already tightly sealed eyes with the growing heat.

Your free hand tugs at the pulsing tips of your breasts as you’re lost in the blooming tickles of your arousal, and the coupled sensations mesh into something far more tantalizing than you ever could’ve imagined.

“My body is yours”, you whimper devotedly for ears that may not be listening.

Your hips delve into the bed to brace for impact as your sex succumbs to the continued pokes against it. A flare of pressure shoots through your cunt to spurt a clear, shimmering fluid onto the towel below you as the final flitters of your orgasm rip and tear into the surrounding nerves of your overstimulated pussy.

As the tingling subsides, you press a cloth to your damp cheeks and forehead before gathering yourself for the next step.

5) Insert the final toy, turn it on the lowest setting, then wait for me.

The insertable vibrator clicks to life inside you with the strength to turn your insides into a blended mess, despite being at the lowest intensity. That familiar aching and yearning for Nemuri sweeps through your chest and sinks there with the weight of stone.

But, you’ll wait for her as long as it takes.

You’ve come to realize that your aspirations prior to serving her were void of fulfillment.

She’s saved you from a life of hollow endeavors, but you were too stubborn to accept it at first.

You offer yourself now as a plea for forgiveness of your earlier transgressions, a passionate act of submission to make her adore you more than she already does.

So, yes you’ll continue to wait for her, even if it means an eternity.

#midnight x reader #midnight smut #nemuri kayama x reader #nemuri kayama smut #midnight x you #midnight x y/n #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines #yandere mha

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90s-belladonna · 11 months

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Wannabe Sugar Daddy🍡

part 5 - kind eyes

Kai Chisaki wasn’t the type of person who got nervous easily, however, he couldn’t help but let a multitude of thoughts run through his mind. “What if this is a setup and my parents orchestrated the whole thing?” “What if they’re not as reliable as they seem and leak all of my information?” “What if they have me meet someone absolutely horrible?” On the outside, his cold demeanor adorned his features but the thoughts racing through his mind were anything but calm. It wasn’t until he smelled the intoxicatingly strong scent of violets that he was pulled from his worries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Chisaki, I assure you Blue Summer Services will take care of you in an efficient manner.” The woman approaching him spoke. She had long purple hair and walked with imperishable confidence, even when faced with the young CEO that so many seemed to immediately fear upon introduction.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Apologies for the mask, I’m a bit of a germaphobe. I assume you’re Nemuri Kayama the handler in charge of my account?” The young CEO questioned as the woman sat in front of him. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she could tell that he was a bit apprehensive about the situation. “Well yes, I’m the owner of Blue Summer, however, I’ve chosen to handle your match’s account, and by extension yours as I’ve taken a special interest in the young lady.” She had a smirk on her face as she spoke, and frankly, Kai couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. “What’s so interesting about her?” He couldn’t help but wonder what made you so important that you had the owner involved in the match-making process. “She’s a special one of course. However, I asked you here half an hour before your meeting with her because although our system matched you together she recently had a public scandal that might deter you from wanting to be tied to her. Although I believe you both would make a fabulous pairing we value our client’s comfort. So if you choose not to proceed with the match we can find other matches for you both.” This was the first time Nemuri felt anxious, of course, she didn’t show it.

Kai sighed, he really wanted this to work out, it was the only way he could comply with his parents’ demands and still have a choice of his own, he couldn’t let it drag on. He didn’t have time to wait around for another match. “Well, how bad was the scandal?” He figures if it was nothing that would compromise his morals he could overlook it, after all, you were the top choice for him according to Blue Summer’s system. “She was publicly cut off by her parents and blacklisted by them. Of course, not all the Keiretsu families agreed to this but enough did for it to be an issue we had to inform you of.” Nemuri examined Kai’s eyes and their expressions for any clue as to what his choice would be, unfortunately for her, he was as good as her when it came to masking his thoughts and emotions. On the other hand, the young CEO was racking his brain trying to think back to the chat he and his friends had regarding the heiress who was cut off by her family, trying to remember if maybe he knew you. Sadly he couldn’t remember what family the heiress was from.

“What family does she belong to?” “The Yaoyorozu clan.” Nemuri instantly answered. “Branch?” “Main branch.” Kai hummed. On paper, you’d be the perfect partner to calm his parents’ nerves as well as the public concerns surrounding his bachelor image, but your family might be an issue. While the Chisaki clan prioritized their culture and traditional values the Yaoyorozu clan prioritized etiquette. He would have to teach old Japanese traditions to help you impress his family, but this could work. “Anything else I should be aware of when it comes to her?” He pondered, he was set on you. Perhaps your reputation might be something his parents could take issue with, but they didn’t care enough about the other Keiretsu families to turn it into a problem, in fact being romantically tied to a Chisaki might be enough to overturn your blacklisting. This could be mutually beneficial in more than one way, and Kai was ever a charitable man.

“No. As I said, she’s the perfect match for you, I think you’ll get a kick out of her personality. Since she was raised in the Keiretsu high society she’ll know how to behave so as to not embarrass you if that’s a concern you hold.” The purple-haired woman clearly wanted this pairing to work out, the young heir couldn’t decipher why but he sensed she held no malevolent intentions so he decided to trust her judgment. “Then let’s proceed with the match for now.” He checked his watch as he spoke. “She should be here in about five minutes anyway.” Nemuri couldn’t help but smile at the young heir’s decision. “I’ll be in my office then. The cafe has been booked for just you two for the next two hours, I figured you’d value the privacy and our staff is discreet. You have nothing to worry about here Mr. Chisaki, both you and Miss Yaoyorozu are in good hands with Blue Summer.” The woman spoke as she got up and began to walk away. Strangely enough, her considerate words were enough to calm Kai’s nerves.

Sure enough exactly five minutes later you walked in, right on time, he liked that. He quickly removed his black face mask in an attempt to make you feel more comfortable around him. He decided to act as if he were reading a random magazine that was placed at the table he chose for the two of you. Kai figured you might get nervous if he looked at you the entire time as you walked in. Within seconds he was greeted by a soft strawberry scent, he didn’t usually enjoy fruity or sweet scents, but he found yours to be quite pleasing and not too overbearing. “Hi, I’m (name)! A pleasure to meet you.” You greeted. He observed you and how your eyes almost completely closed when you smiled his way. You wore a light purple plaid, tweed mini skirt, crop blazer set, a cream blouse, and gold jewelry. You looked presentable and it was obvious how much care you put into your appearance. He couldn’t help but think that Nemuri was right in her judgment that you would be the perfect crown jewel for this image. “oh.” you let out before nervously sitting down, your reaction making him realize that he failed in greeting you.

“Apologies, I got a bit distracted. I’m Kai Chisaki. Delighted to meet you Miss Yaoyorozu.” his voice was deep and smooth just like the black silk dress shirt he wore. Silver rings adorned his fingers, matching the diamond and silver earrings he wore, the piercings being a clear indicator of his young age. Despite the responsibilities thrust upon him he was only twenty-one, still a kid, just like you. “You can call me (name). The briefing I received said you were looking for someone to act as your girlfriend right? You should speak to me comfortably if we really want to sell this.” You suggested, a soft smile still adorning your lips. “Sure thing, in that case, you can just call me Kai.” He wasn’t sure if he should smile back. His friends were always smiling but he never felt the need to match their energy, and yet he wanted to prioritize your comfort as he realized how strange this situation was for a young woman, and so Kai Chisaki, the infamously cold CEO, attempted a smile. You let out a soft laugh, it was evident to you that he wasn’t used to acting this way. A mischievous glint made a home in your eyes at the realization of how eager to please you he was. “Sure thing, Kai it is then!” You couldn’t help but notice how stunning he was, he had a sharp jawline and striking golden eyes. You made a mental note to thank Geten and Mirio for making you add the handsome component for the characteristics you were looking for in a match because Kai Chisaki’s looks were absolutely otherworldly. Not only was he handsome, but despite being a man his fashion sense was quite unique and divine, he was utterly debonair. You could definitely picture yourself going out with someone like him under different circumstances.

Soon enough someone came to take your drink order, as you spoke to the waitress Kai comfortably examined your features and came to the conclusion that you were beautiful. He almost wanted to chuckle thinking at how happy Keigo will be when he finds out he got paired with someone as gorgeous as you, his blonde friend would of course be insufferable about it. As he scanned your features he couldn’t help but notice a tender area on your cheek peeking through from underneath your makeup, it clearly wasn’t blush, as the one you wore was a different shade than what the area on your cheek looked like. The area looked a bit swollen, he recognized the situation all too well. Keiretsu families and their punishments. It was obvious you had been harshly slapped, that’s exactly how his cheeks looked when he was recovering from one of his parents’ slaps. Maybe it was your similar traumas or empathy for the situation you found yourself in, but he felt the overwhelming feeling to shield you from the rest of the world.

How could anyone hurt someone with such kind eyes? Sure he was aware of how bratty some heiresses could be, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you too had some stressful and mischievous components to your personality, but the eyes never lied, they were the window to the soul after all. He was convinced you were a good person, even if you were a bit materialistic like the reports claimed, he could tell you had a good heart. He had a deep distaste for Keiretsu society and the culture surrounding their treatment of their young, so he sympathized with your situation, he understood it all too well. “So kai” your voice broke him out of his thoughts, his golden eyes instantly meeting your glistening ones. “How should we do this? Obviously, we have to get to know each other before we meet your parents but how do you want to go about it?” He liked that you paid attention to the information brief you were given prior to the meeting, it saved him from having to explain his infuriating situation.

“Well, I figured we could go out on a few dates and get comfortable with each other. I also need to take you to tea ceremony courses before we meet my parents, they like that sort of thing. Once we meet them we can start attending public events together.” You nod along with his plan. “I already know how to do a traditional tea ceremony. My friend Nejire thought it would be cute if we took classes together so we did that last winter, I still remember everything but we can practice if you would like. I’m sure there are components of my technique that I’ll need to clean up to impress your parents.” You suggested, Kai let out a pleased hum and nodded in agreement.

Before he knew it two hours had flown by, he noticed that you like to talk a lot, not that he minded, he was a quiet man anyway so he preferred more talkative people around him as it removed pressure from him to speak. He also was quite fascinated with your outlook on life and peppy attitude. He could bask in your energy for hours if given the chance, washing away any doubts he still had about the arrangement you two found yourselves in. A familiar clacking of heels distracted him from the strange comfort he’d found in you. “Unfortunately your two hours are up, feel free to remain here. However, I must warn you another couple is set to arrive in thirty minutes, in case you mind the company.” Nemuri informed the two of you, her gaze lingering on you as she softly smiled. Kai couldn’t help but notice how this seemed like the first time the woman wasn’t putting on a mask, she seemed quite fond of you. However, based on your expression and timid wave he could tell you didn’t know who the woman standing before you was. You looked over at Kai with doe eyes as soon as the purple-haired woman stopped speaking. “I’m assuming you wouldn’t like anyone knowing your business.” You were quite perceptive, another thing he enjoyed about you. “You’d be correct. However let’s take this elsewhere, I’m interested in keeping our riveting conversation going.” He stated.

Truthfully the conversation offered nothing of the essence, you were both just discussing desserts, and you were going on about how one hadn’t truly lived until trying pistachio maamouls. He didn’t care much for sweets, but he sure liked the way you spoke with such passion about something so simple. You were a very worldly person, despite being rich Kai hadn’t traveled much due to being placed in a position of power at such a young age, so he enjoyed your descriptions of all the places you’d been to and your appreciation for all their cultures. “Sure! There’s a great Mexican bakery a block from here anyway, you have to try their flan!” you beamed. He couldn’t help but form a soft smile. His eyes glistened as he too looked upon you with fondness. He dusted himself off as he got up and offered you his hand to help you stand up as well. As soon as you took his hand his ears turned a soft pink shade, his heart skipping a beat as well. He hadn’t felt like this in a really long time, he didn’t think he still could. He appreciated how free you were, and how much light you still held despite being raised in keiretsu society. He was a bit envious, but also impressed by the fire in you. Part of him hoped that in the time you will share together, you’ll rub off on him.

“You didn’t even exist to them. It’s the first time I’ve seen you get ignored like that.” A gruff voice stated as he walked up to the purple-haired woman. “Oh let them. They’re clearly bonding so I’ll overlook it this one time.” She quipped as she watched you both walk away, a smile forming as she watched you hug the brunette’s arm as he opened the door with his free hand. “Don’t get too attached my love. It could be dangerous.” The blonde man stated as he wrapped an arm around Nemuri’s waist. The woman let out a hearty chuckle before replying. “Come on Toshi, I’m her aunt, if I don’t take care of her then who will? Especially in this situation.” “You see yourself in her don’t you?” Toshinori questioned, looking at his wife with empathetic eyes. “How can I not? It’s worse for her, at least when I got cut off and blacklisted by my family it was kept private. Meanwhile, my brother blasted their business on every tabloid and drama channel that would listen. It’s cruel.” The woman formed a small fist as she spoke. “Blacklisting your own family is insane, I’ll agree.” The blonde quipped. “At least I got to meet you, my hero. Maybe the same will happen for her, we did have a similar arrangement when we met!” Nemuri pointed out, her eyes filled with hope as she turned to face the older man. “Or maybe not?” Toshinori pointed out, an attempt to offer a more realistic point of view on the situation. This caused Nemuri to chuckle once more. “Only time will tell. Won’t it my sweet?” She whispered as she grabbed her husband’s tie and pulled him in for a kiss.

~ A/N: hopefully this wasn’t too long 😭 if it was please let me know i’ll try and make future written parts shorter! ~

☆ WSD Master List

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circledotdestroy · 3 months

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Retrospective - Chapter 2: The Insult of Injury

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Main Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First chapter Next Chapter Word Count: 5585

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. While I was gone I got my first big girl job and my beta reader has been having trouble with her computer, so I had to obsess over the prose by myself. In the end, i had to split my planned second chapter in two because it was almost 10k, so that's fun. Also, I uploaded this fic to Ao3 and I added the tag "Autistic Shouta Aizawa" and I'm the first one to tag that in an X Reader Fic??? I thought it was a popular headcanon lol Anyway, you've waited long enough. I hope you enjoy!

Head hung over porcelain, gloved hands gripped onto the sink. A giant hammer banged against your skull from the inside leaving sparks in its wake. Neurons like shooting stars lived behind your eyes. “Sparks…” You gulped back nausea.

Murky puddles of colors blurred together. Light blue stalls behind you, slightly opened, but empty. A massive void leered through the mirror with slivers of red. Hunched, panting over the counter. Burning wounds spreading out, conquering the rest of your cold skin. Not so different from the last time you needed a healing quirk. Cold, clammy, and disgustingly pitiful in one of the dark backrooms of your agency–because doing paperwork was better than being by your lonesome with nothing. The main difference this time around was the mortification that came with breaking down in a high school bathroom.

You were going to smack Akari for what she put you through.

The thought stabilized your shaky breath. You straightened your body, your hands still grasping the counter. The pressure released from the stab wound. It steadied you and you were grateful.

The last thing you needed to add on this little business trip was a reunion with Recovery Girl. She had first-hand encounters of your nonsense. Dealing with the aftermath of you being a menace to society— or “younger” if someone wanted to be polite—more times then you can count. You went to her office a lot–sometimes for yourself. Sometimes. It didn’t matter if you started more “advanced” in your class, you weren’t immune to scraps, bruises, or the occasional slip up during training. Other times, it was for other classmates. Some you sent her way after battle trials, but other times you popped in to take supplies then ran out.

One time you asked when she was going to retire, she said whatever the Japanese equivalent was for “until I croak”. That was after she threatened you with her cane, but you laughed it off like the cocky child you were. You thought even if she could land a hit, it wouldn’t hurt that bad. After all this time, it’d be disappointing to tell her you got in a fight and lost at your big age. Maybe she’ll try hitting you with her cane again, you thought. She’d have an easier time now.

But no. Dealing with the effects of one healing quirk was enough. The risks of getting her involved drowsiness at best, or possible death before the investigation gets shot down at worst. Investigation aside, it’s becoming apparent your healing process isn’t where it’s supposed to be. The itches, the burning… no one is in this bathroom with you, but you’re burning beneath cold skin. Someone who sees you on the street can say: “It’s only been two days! Walking around, catching a flight, that’s a MIRACLE for only two days!”

However, that’s the problem. It’s already been two days. With the healing quirk, you’re supposed to be at least 75%, but you’re not pushing fifty.

Removing your hands from the sink, you brought them to your sides. It was hard to know where one pain starts and where the other ends. Everything burns and your body is compelling you to turn around and throw up nothing. You flexed shaking fingers into fists. Your stomach was turning inward. It’s been a while since you ate. Perhaps you should’ve brought something on your way here. Even if it was stopping at a konbini and picking up one of those stupid-ass nutrition cookies Aizawa used to eat for lunch every day of the week. You swallowed, shaking your head. Food can wait. You can wait three hours. If you eat, you’re going to stay nauseous and dizzy anyway… unless you do something about it.

With a shaking breath, you glanced over your shoulder then at the door. There was no charge down your spine, so no people were close by either. You flexed your hands again, eyes closed, counting your fingers rhythmically. The sparks died down. The pain became more discernible. Abdomen still fresh and oven-hot. Knuckles chaffed, raw, and bruised. Your legs: thighs sore from jumping during the mission, your left knee ached, and the top side of your right foot was especially tender. Your shoulders, your back, behind your head.

You kept the rhythm until your lungs demanded release. When you exhaled, the pain dwindled. Not completely. Warmth still lied below your skin, at a near simmer. When you opened your eyes though, the blacks and reds weren’t blurred together. They were a clear, albeit crooked mess. You fixed the red arm guards first. When that was done, you had enough energy to fix the rest of your uniform.

Daring to move around, you inspected your fixed outfit further. When it passed inspection, you grabbed your briefcase below the paper towel dispenser to your right. Hitching your breath, you reached for the black handle. Your right leg carried all the weight to avoid setting off a potential mine-field of injury. At first contact, you swung the case on top of the sink then opened it. There were many compartments at the top, one housed a phone the boss gave you, since your old one was collateral damage. There were few numbers inside the cell. Only the ones you thought were most important to include. One of them was for the agency medic, which you cleverly titled as “Medic” to make sure you don’t call more than necessary.

This development with his quirk, unfortunately, was necessary. Rocks filled your stomach. Your mouth feels like you ate gravel. You can hear his reaction to telling him his ‘all powerful quirk’ wasn’t helping like a future sense. He’d make the concussion he diagnosed you with worse if you called.

Wanting to grip the phone harder, you clenched your teeth. This whole thing was stupid. You could’ve kept your guard up. You could’ve stood up, knife be damned, and run after Akari. Stopped her. Asked her what the hell she was talking about— All these choices you could’ve made–all those years of training, and you still got a concussion. Seven minutes passed when you finished typing your little update. It was better to give him a heads up now. It helps against accusations of Akari annihilating your brain cells at the fight.

The next person you contacted was Athena, your Support Expert. It hasn’t been long, but you needed an update on something. Even if it was just your uniform and equipment.

The message itself was quick. Though, you couldn’t help following up by asking if she knew anything about one of the crime scenes. You then thanked her, again. Heaven knows you keep her busy when you need new equipment. During the past two years alone, you’ve asked a lot from her. Whether you needed a new arm guard, gauntlet, or a whole new uniform, she came through every time. It’s hard to get an SE who specializes specifically in power-based quirks. From what you’ve experienced, and heard from other heroes, most SEs don’t appreciate their designs getting decimated. Their creations are children in their eyes. Athena’s creations aren’t as precious in her eyes, by comparison. She has a spreadsheet dedicated to how long until the creations get busted. Keeping up with these records is her research. It changed constantly, telling her what works and when she needs to switch things up.

You should bring her something when all this is over, you thought. She deserved something nice. Something that says “I’m sorry for wrecking all the support items you made me during my missions, you’re the best SE ever!”

The phone went back inside of its compartment, next to the pouch where five hologram disks were held. A surge of panic came through you. Thinking of the horrific scenario of traveling all this way and forgetting essential items for your visit today. You tore open the pouch. Heart in your ears and heat crawling out your back. Two disks were labeled, three were not. “CS1” and “CS2” were in the pouch. Good. You glanced at the other objects in the case, double checking everything was there before you met up with the principal. Folders, notebooks, paperwork, until relief washed over you in a cool wave. Closing the briefcase, running your hand across the leather. Slowing down to trace the broken heart emblem, similar to the one on your breastplate.

Your power won’t get rid of the hammers in your skull, or the itch around stitch wire, but the thick material will prevent you from scratching. Plus, no one else would know about the other bumps and bruises beneath.

You got this.

Leaving the bathroom, you pulled out Hizashi’s instructions one more time. They were less blurry and a bit easier to understand. You may actually have a chance to get out of the maze disguised as your alma mater. Ironically enough, before you could turn the corner, a white rat-bear-dog shorter than a yard-stick— wearing a black vest, blocky, yellow shoes, and had a gangster scar across his eye—came around. “There you are! It really has been a long time,” he greeted, like you’ve seen him before. He didn’t give you time to respond to him, he just explained how he waited at the meeting spot until it occurred to him how long it’s been since you were a student. The principal also made many changes since the time you graduated, which he insisted on showing you. This welcoming gesture forced you to tail him around the floor, instead of simply going to the meeting spot. You didn’t like the idea of walking around, not with that flare up earlier. You were still abnormally sore. But he can’t know that. You squared your shoulders, nodded your head, and quietly marched on.

There weren’t many rooms to make note of. Most of them were regular classrooms. You already saw where the current classroom for 1-A was before you ran into Aizawa. Apparently your old classroom is being used for one of the first year general education courses. The principal asked if you’d like to look inside. You declined the offer politely. At the end of the day, it was just a room. Another room with desks, windows, and a chalkboard in the front. What more did you need to see? You didn’t explain that last part, obviously, and the principal went on talking about other changes around the school.

At one point, he interrupted himself, stopping in front of one of the other doors. This time he didn’t ask you before opening it. “And here is my office.” The principal revealed a room with a giant window behind a desk. The orange light from the rising sun shone through the window casting deep shadows on the office furniture. If you stepped closer, you’d see everything outside the window. The brightness made you queasy. You opted to focus on the gray couch instead. “It looks a little different compared to the last conversation we had here,” he commented.

‘Last conversation,’ you wondered. Then it hit you.

This principal wasn’t new.

Your principal never left UA. How you forgot your principal having a gangster-scar, you weren’t sure. There was no one like him. Absolutely no one that you’ve met.

Muffled words and a shadow in front of a stark blue window came to mind. Paws holding stacks of paper, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Were you supposed to add on to what he said? Were you supposed to apologize? He didn’t look unhappy.

But you could be wrong. Would it be a surprise if this was an act? Taking you on this walk so you’d waste your time telling him everything? You looked to the right and left side of the hallway. If the resources weren’t valuable then you’d walk yourself out first.

The principal didn’t follow up his statement with anything about the past or the future. He closed the door to his voice and rambled his way to nothing. He probably wanted to get a reaction out of you, but you were too confused to give him one.

After a while, the stitches got tighter. And tighter. And your legs were becoming sore. Of course, you clenched your jaw to keep quiet. If he caught on, he’ll send you to Recovery Girl then bye-bye. She hits you with her cane and Nezu could press a button to eject you from the building.

Honestly, where was Hizashi? You knew he was supposed to be busy with work last night, but he said he’d be here for the meeting. It was supposed to start soon and you don’t want to be in a room alone with a passive-aggressive rat-bear-principal. Maybe he was telling Nemuri you were in town.

Or maybe he would try to find Shouta and they could all be talking right now! Aizawa would tell him about you leaving him in the hallway, saying you were rude, demanding to know what’s going on. Aizawa was pushy enough. Hizashi would tell him about how you called him, hurt and asking for help. Despite Hizashi’s best intentions, Aizawa could use this information to raise doubt against you in the meeting. Get rid of you before you become a problem, his problem.

You needed to find Hizashi before that could happen.

As luck would have it, the tour was coming to an end. The last stop led to a blond man leaning against a door down the hall with his arms crossed. A blond man with a punk rock style and a speaker around his neck. A blond that bounced his knee impatiently because he couldn’t bear standing still.

Hizashi!

His head snapped in your direction. He, like a ray of sunshine, grinned ear to ear. “And look here, folks!” Hizashi rushed toward you, “coming out of the cage, ready for her GRAND COMEBACK–” you gripped your briefcase tighter, your eyes wide and almost bouncing, expecting impact. Hizashi pivoted around you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s the Queen of Terror, Pro-Hero STRIFE!”

It’s been over five years since you’ve seen him in person, longer since he’s called you by your hero name. You beamed, he was here. In the same room, not across the world. You thought of hugging him, but stopped when you remembered your old principal was still here.

Hizashi moved closer, leaning into your face without such reservations. The amber reflection of your uniform was in his sunglasses. His hand dragged across your shoulder where the raised mending peaked. He looked toward the principal with his hand on the side of his mouth, like he was trying to tell you a secret. “I was waiting forever,” he fake-scolded, loud enough for the third party to hear.

Glancing at the principal, you saw he was watching the two of you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were blank. You stepped out of Hizashi’s grasp, standing properly. “I had trouble with the directions.”

“What? Getting rusty after being away for so long?” Heat rose to your ears. Of course you were going to be rusty. Did he really have to tease you about it now? “She really knows how to keep her fans at the edge of their seat,” he said to the principal casually, like he wasn’t Hizashi’s boss.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the principal responded, making you aware of the side eye you were giving to your old friend. “I was giving Strife a tour of this floor. After all, I’m proud of the changes I made to UA since your graduating class. I couldn’t resist showing off to one of my former students. Strife has certainly grown from that child I remember.”

Hizashi agreed with your old principle with a joke. “I hope that’s a good thing.” But you know there’s no good way to interpret the statement. Not with what he said when he showed you his office. Who brings up a time where they had to talk with you in a GOOD way? It’s like when your parents brought up how one of your dad’s coworkers caught you sneaking a cookie from the agency's break room when you were supposed to stick to a meal plan. Like, “oh, we sure hope you have better impulse control compared to when you were eight, even if you do, we’re going to reference this story over and over again so you never forget your moral failure!” He’s wearing yellow sneakers with formal wear, why is he passive-aggressive!

The conversation didn’t go further, thankfully. “There is time before the meeting, I’m going to set up. Feel free to catch up here in the meantime,” said the principal. You both thanked him as he went into the room. The nausea came back at the sight of the wooden swirls closing, your heart was starting to pound. After all, maybe he was planning to air it out with an audience, you couldn’t know for sure with his emotionless eyes.

“Did you really not have nicer clothes,” Hizashi asked, breaking you out of your trance. He was loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Your nose scrunched. “The damage wasn’t THAT bad…”

Hizashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about the damage. Last time I saw you, there was more…” Hizashi held his hand out, waving it toward your body. He went through a jumble of words before he decided on one. “Color.”

The last time he saw you in person, you were twenty-four and in-between agencies again. He was celebrating the first anniversary of his show being picked up for a radio channel. After celebrating the anniversary, he took a short vacation out of the country. It was the first time he was allowed since his career started. When Hizashi finally arrived in the States, you wore a uniform. It had less hard armor and was more red. Red breast plate with your black broken-heart emblem, which resembled that old Pac-Man arcade game. Gauntlets with red finger and knuckle pieces and armguards to contrast the black base of the gloves. Some other details like the center of your knee and elbow pads, the tips of your boots, your utility belt, and other lines and trims followed,

Vibrant color bounced off the void background. In comparison, your current outfit was–

“You look like a common mall goth.” You tilt your head at him. Before you can say anything about calling you “common”, he continued. “Actually it’s worse!” Hizashi stepped closer to put his hands on your shoulders, pressing into the raised mark on the left. He leaned closer to your ear–was he always this touchy? He whispered, “you look emo.”

You punished him back, somewhat gently. “Hizashi, what the hell,” you said in English. Why was he making you worried over nothing! And calling you emo…

He laughed, wagging his finger at you like you were some brat. “Nuh uh uh. It’s Mic. We’re professionals and we’re working.”

“What do you mean ‘professionals’? What was professional about that!”

“I’m a radio host too, I have to play it to the crowd!”

You scanned the halls. “Where!” No one was here! A thud echoed across the empty hallway. In your confusion, you accidentally threw your briefcase across the hall. You stupidly remember the rule ‘no yelling in the hall!’ rule as black leather slid across the purple floor. Oops… You sigh as the briefcase spins to a stop.

Mic continued laughing. You grumbled, giving him your back as you approached the briefcase. To think, you considered hugging him earlier. The man walked behind you. “Don’t be so stiff!” You stared at the briefcase, almost rolling your eyes, he had no idea. You pondered how you were going to pick it up. If you did it the same way as you did in the bathroom, it would look suspicious. And dorky.

His eyes were on you, you could feel it. If you waited too long then Mic would volunteer to get it for you. That would make him ask questions though. “Right,” you broke the silence before he could. You squatted with bated breath to pick up the briefcase. Your knee almost popped and you wanted to tear into the wound, but you weren’t going to tell Mic that. Not now, at least.

Somewhere more private. AFTER you were sure he wouldn’t talk to Aizawa about anything. But first, you’d need to say you met him earlier and it didn’t go well. You can save Mic the drama, not going into specifics. Other than that, what’s one more thing to the pile? He’s in the dark about Akari, for now. He didn’t need to know Akari was the reason why you called him from your medic’s phone the other day, right this minute. You’ll have to go over everything in the meeting anyway, so why waste time?

“I would’ve gotten that,” said Mic.

“But you didn’t.” You shot back, harsher than you meant to. “It’s fine. I forgive you,” you stated with a pouty lip. You hoped the joke would mitigate the unintended force of your words. Mic probably didn’t notice, or he thought it was simply the set up to the punchline. “What have you been up to?”

Mic gave you an elaborate update on the past few weeks. His summer was busy since the Sports Festival. As usual, he was booked out when it came to the radio host and DJ gigs during the beginning of summer break. He told you all positive things. Dancing around All Might’s retirement as Number 1 Hero. You imagined he’d describe it as a certified downer if you asked. “...and our first years are about to go for their license!” Mic posed his hands in the rock and roll gesture.

“Wow, already? We had to wait until second year.”

“Because of all the villain attacks. It was decided it’d be better for the students to protect themselves without waiting for a hero’s permission.” There were no bells or whistles attached to the explanation. His hand gestures were minimal as well. While the idea of first years becoming skilled enough to get their license at a young age was impressive, there was no argument the circumstances weren’t ideal. First years shouldn’t have to deal with villains yet, but they have multiple times. Even in America, the youngest an applicant had to be was 17 to get their license. One of the perks of going to UA was being able to expedite the process and get your license when you were 16. You couldn’t imagine letting 15 year olds take the test in America. ”If you’ve watched the Sports Festival, then you know they’ll CRUSH it!” He punctuated the statement with his signature “YEAH!”, putting his hands in the air for extra dazzle.

A beat passed and he broke his pose, asking if you watched the Sports Festival. The question wasn’t as pumped compared to his previous statement. Guilt struck you. Another month’s gone by and you still haven’t watched your friends on International Television. “It’s okay if you didn’t!” He responded, obviously concerned.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched it by now. Work’s been crazy for months. I had to cancel TV because it was wasting money.”

Mic shrugged, with a relaxed expression on his face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I can give you the highlight reel while you're in town. But seriously, you had to cancel TV? You need to give it a rest!”

“No, you have four jobs. I have no excuse–”

“Details!” Mic brushed off your response with his hand. “Y’know…” Mic’s hand went to his face to rub his chin. “You could help out with the first years with the exam. If you have time for it, it could be another paycheck and you can hang out with me,” he finished like you were a kid motivated by cookies.

You raised your eyebrow and shifted your weight to your back leg. “First you say “give it a rest” and now you want to give me more work?” He posed glamorously then switched to another with that somewhat implied you giving him a high-five, but it didn’t look quite right. “Not everyone can multitask like you, Mic.”

“I’m just saying you have the experience. You judged the licensing exams a crazy amount of times—and you mentored young heroes before.”

“I didn’t do any judging this year, and there’s a difference between the American licensing exam and the one here. Also, those heroes already graduated from their program, and I only helped them because I had to. I’m not a good mentor, and, from what you said, I’m sure whoever’s teaching the first years are doing fine on their own.”

Mic paused with his mouth slightly open. His teeth clenched. “About that–”

A colorful blur caught the corner of your eye, but it was too late. A massive weight slammed into your body. The briefcase flew from your hand. What the hell! Your throat squeezed, choking down any sound you could’ve made. First there was shock. Then fire. Then pain. Every. Single. Type.

Everything burned and your bones rattled you from the inside. You had to get this off! You wrapped your arms around, ready to pick up and throw it down the next floor.

Your shoulder shrieked back at the embrace, your legs weren’t fairing with the shift either. In this split-second processing of your senses, it was apparent the weight was particularly squishy in certain places. It had purple hair as well, and she was absolutely thrilled to see you.

Your eyes widened. You lifted Nemuri, having stopped midway from slamming her to the ground. Her stomach was at your eye-level as she laughed with joy. That was good, you set her down., her heels clicking on the floor. You could’ve really hurt her. “--didn’t tell me you were coming to town–got you at the airport! Look at YOU!” The squishiness against your body left, replaced by an ecstatic Nemuri squeezing your face. Fingers pressed your cheeks enough to make your lips puff out. You tried to respond to Nemuri, but you might as well have your mouth full of cookies. The questions kept coming. After a bunch of non-answers, Nemuri took her hands off. Of course it was sore, but it was nothing like the rest of you. Unlike with Mic, you KNEW Nemuri was this touchy. This happened so many times a single memory became a cluster of events.

She turned out of your hold, pointing at Mic aggressively. “Did you know our friend was coming here and NOT tell ME!”

The scene was soon drowned out by your beating heart. Mic’s sunglasses slipped down his nose revealing a panicked expression toward Nemuri. He held out your briefcase to shield himself from the heat of the backlash. He was talking fast, explaining himself. You pressed your lips tightly in contrast. If they weren’t then you’d pant like you did earlier.

Nausea arrived once again like a recurring nightmare. Placing your hand over the stitches to push through the thick material did nothing. As predicted, the pain couldn’t be snuffed out. Keeping your face neutral was an uphill battle between scalding heat and pure annoyance.

Screeching thoughts scolded you to ‘stop scratching!’

Then the surge came.

Mic and Midnight were focused on each other. One was mad, one was somewhat scared. It gave you something to work with. Your breath deepened as you flexed your palm against your uniform. Once again the pain separated and simmered down. The only agony on the surface was the itchiness of your wound. It wasn’t perfect. You just had to bear with it—the healing process.

And watch out for any other attacks from your friends.

The hand on your abdomen balled into a fist. An invisible knife stabbed back inside the wound. Hopefully, the pressure could substitute the need to claw at your skin until your insides spilled into a puddle on the floor.

Before you got comfortable, something to your left burned through you. Not from a wound, or your quirk. Someone watched you down the corridor. Turning your head, you lowered the invisible knife.

“Aizawa,” Mic called out to him, but didn’t get a response. Aizawa’s attention was on you. Did he see what you did? There was no way he saw the whole situation, you thought. Just when you shanked yourself with the imaginary shiv. Even if he brought it up, so what? It was weird, not illegal. “Look who’s here, isn’t this exciting!” Mic continued. The way Aizawa kept staring you down made it clear he was expecting you to flinch. Maybe you weren’t doing something illegal just now, but he can say you stormed off from him. Which is worse in this context. A lot worse.

Aizawa tucked a blue file folder he was looking over into his arm with the others. “We saw each other earlier,” he responded coldly. He wasn’t excited to see you. Not today. Not ever. You stood your ground, waiting for him to tell them you walked out on him again, but it never came. He moved past, preferring not to be in the same room with you more than he had to.

“That’s it! C’mon don’t be like that! How often do you get to see an old buddy?”

“Just stay for a minute!”

He continued on his path, not responding to any of their pleas until he reached the door handle. “The meeting is starting soon. Don’t block the door.” He went inside, the door clicking shut behind him with an echo.

“Harsh…” Mic said.

Midnight turned to you. “I thought he’d be happier,” she said wistfully. You don’t blame her for hoping.

You shrugged, lifting your hands. ‘It is what it is,’ you thought, not quite remembering a good translation.

Midnight hummed. Mic moved on from the initial shock, opting to check out the detailing on your briefcase. No follow up questions from either of them. Throughout the years, there was never a time either of them mentioned Aizawa being their coworker. Not that you should care. They didn’t have to tell you anything about what he was up to. If he wanted you to know he could’ve told you himself. Whatever he did was none of your business, so why would they tell you?

Maybe they should’ve. It certainly would’ve avoided this mess. Although, the thought didn’t cross Mic’s mind. He probably heard the muffled yells of the medic for you to give his phone back and dived in with no questions. No hesitation.

Nonetheless, he could’ve warned you about Aizawa in the email he sent you after. Did he think you wouldn't come back if you knew ahead of time—if you knew Aizawa would be here? Probably not, but damn, dude, give a warning.

Midnight broke through your thoughts, asking how long you were planning to stay. She comments on the tension without any out of pocket comparisons to the devil’s tango. You reassured her you should be gone in two weeks. If you were going to do your research here, no doubt it would be uncomfortable for her and Mic if that’s how you’re going to interact with their friend. “I hope we can do something while you’re here. It’ll be fun,” Midnight offered half-heartedly. Even if you sucked at keeping contact for the past year, she was still nice to you. Although, it’s doubtful you two would have time for each other while you were investigating and she does her jobs.

“Count me in!” Mic puts his free arm around your shoulders, he doesn’t add any pressure, but your arms squeezed into your ribs at the unintentional threat. Like one wrong move and your skin would seer through kevlar and leather. “We have to grab a bite!”

Your ears perk up, stomach coming to the forefront of your thoughts. You were drooling at the thought of finally being able to eat some bomb-ass food.

The passage of time went faster with the distracting fantasy. Not long after agreeing to Mic’s invitation of food, and having to hear a long list of places you couldn’t go to this very moment, the meeting was close to a start–made apparent by the next pro hero arriving to the meeting room. Your friends introduced you to another one of their coworkers, Snipe, who was dressed as a cowboy and actually packed heat.

The lovely thoughts and curiosity came to a halt upon entering the room. Aizawa glared at you for disrupting him from reading what he had in those folders. Without breaking eye contact you reached toward Mic so he could give you back your briefcase, so you could put it down somewhere.

Aizawa went back to his folders, rubbing his temple like your presence alone vexes him. You chose to place it in the corner of the room by a potted plant. You were careful not to grunt as you squatted. Ignoring the pain, you swiped the pattern on the briefcase, for good luck even if you hardly believe in such a thing.

Call it habit or instinct, but you glanced over your shoulder after. Of course, there was Aizawa. He eyeballed you, waiting for you to make a mistake. You clenched your jaw as you stood up again, adjusting your uniform before walking back toward Mic toward the center of the room. If Aizawa saw an opportunity, an opening to get rid of you, he’d pounce.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #retrospective by dot #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #whump #tw pain #yamada hizashi #nemuri kayama

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abellaheart-blog · 2 years

Text

My Hero Academia Various Female Pro Heroes x Reader

Receiving Gifts From Their Significant Other

Author Note: Reader is Gender Neutral. These are headcanons with their reactions to variations of gifts. Reblogs are appreciated as are comments, have a wonderful day.

Midnight 🖤🌫Nemuri Kayama

Chocolate or Sweet Treat

This woman loves chocolates, her favorite is dark chocolate. Her favorite treat would be chocolate covered strawberries

She’s so grateful receiving chocolates of any sort from you.

“My sweetie is treating their girl today. How sweet..” She purrs in your ears.

Assorted chocolates and candy bars are nice, she doesn’t get to eat them much since she watches what she eats

However if you gift her chocolate dipped strawberries she knows your exact intentions. She’s flirting it up with you, kissing your neck, giving love bites, nipping your ears. She’s dragging you away somewhere private for some fun

Flowers

Midnight adores roses. She’s a particular fan of black and red roses

She will look beyond happy seeing you with a bouquet or vase of her favorite flowers. She’ll begin blushing since it’s so thoughtful

She’ll kiss your cheek in gratitude

“So sweet. Thank you, thank you!” She’ll say between her kisses for you. She ends it with a little smooch on your lips.

Bracelets or Rings

You’re gifting her jewelry and this is one fire way to earn more flirting affections from her. She’ll sit on your lap and kindly thank you with a hidden seductive tone. If you’re not sitting she’ll pull you by the collar and give you a kiss

She adores bracelets since she loves wearing them with dresses. Nemuri likes to accessorize so it’s a nice gift.

Rings are also a thoughtful gift since she adores them as well. She likes any type of ring. She’ll proudly wear it when she’s not doing hero work.

“It’s so pretty I love it!”

Handcuffs & Whips

These gifts require you to present them to her privately. She’s a teacher/pro hero after all.

Upon opening the gift, her signature seductive smile is given to you

Nemuri loves punishing her pet. She’ll want to try the gift on you immediately.

Handcuffs will lead to her straddling your hips or her handcuffing you to the nearest bedposts or chair.

Nana Shimura 💙💥

Chocolate or Sweet Treat

Another chocolate lover and of sweets in general. She loves milk chocolate. Her favorite is her childhood candy bar or a slice of cake (Funfetti, Chocolate, Caramel, Vanilla, or Strawberry Shortcake)

She has a strict diet but she’ll treat herself once in a while. When you surprise her with her favorite candy bar from her childhood she is elated

She will kiss your forehead or cheek and give you the cutest smile

“For me? You’re so thoughtful! Thank you, honey.”

If you gift her a slice of cake she’s ever so grateful because she had a long day of hero work or she’ll save it for later after she’s done with work for the day.

She will enjoy every bite and promises you so. She’ll ask you on a date and hopes your schedule is free since she wants to spend time with you. She’s hoping for cuddles too

“I absolutely love cake, thank you! Would you like to eat out at a café sometime this week?”

Flowers

She adores flowers. Her favorites are daisies, sunflowers, and poppies

A bouquet or vase of her favorite flowers give you the biggest smile you’ll ever see. Her eyes light up and she’s blushing

She’ll give you a kiss in gratitude

“They’re... beautiful. Thank you for the flowers I’ll take good care of them.”

Earrings

She’s not one for jewelry but she does enjoy earrings

When you give her earrings she is beaming since she can’t wait to show them off

She won’t be able to wear earrings that are long or hang since she is often busy working but she will try to wear them as often as she can

“You got me earrings?! These are super cute!”

Exercise Equipment

This woman is big on fitness. She spends time exercising in the morning after breakfast.

When you gift her fitness equipment she’s very excited. She can’t wait to try it out. She’s always finding different ways to incorporate them to her routine.

Shimura will immediately try it, unless it’s too big and needs time to set it up. It will get good use and she’s forever grateful.

You’re given a big strong bear hug from her

“This was so thoughtful I’ll be sure to use it as much as possible! I can’t wait to exercise later!”

Mirko 🖤🐰 Rumi Usagiyama

Chocolate or Sweet Treat

She doesn’t mind chocolates but they’re not her favorite (she eats a lot of chocolate protein shakes). If she had to choose, sweetened dark chocolate would be most favorable. She’ll be grateful to any treat you decide to buy her but her favorite would be frozen yogurt or carrot cake

Chocolates given to her will earn you head pats from her and a flirting comment. She’s very amused and wants to give you affection

“I didn’t realize I’d get chocolate from my sweetheart, I’ll have to give you something else in return.” She’ll wink, pulling you toward her.

If you get her frozen yogurt she’s very happy about it. The larger the serving, the better. She’s got a big appetite.

You’ll be treated like royalty by her. She’s praising you and wanting to pamper you

If you give her carrot cake she is especially happy. She hums with delight at every bite. Her ears twitch happily.

She’s thanking you and holding your hand while she eats the cake

“You cutie! I’ve been wanting carrot cake this week too! You know me so well.”

Flowers

She thinks flowers are a sweet gift. She’s never been given flowers aside from her parents. She thinks it’s cute of you to buy them for her.

Her favorites are lily’s, primroses or snapdragons. They remind her of meadows and the smells are very relaxing

Rumi lifts you up and smashes her lips on yours in thanks

“I know it’s what you wanted.” She’ll chuckle giving you flirting red eyes.

Necklaces or Chokers

Rumi will only wear necklaces or choker necklaces with some of her outfits. She’s not girly but she’ll accessorize when she’s feeling up for it

She’ll treat your necklaces like treasures. They’re taken care of more so than her other property

Chokers go well with a lot of her looks and necklaces are nice for the times she isn’t feeling sweat pants or gym clothes

Rumi admires all the necklaces you’ve given her and every time she tells you how thankful she is. Her ears twitch joyously as she observes the jewelry you gift her.

Kitchen Supplies

She loves cooking and trying new healthy meals. Since she has a ridiculously strict diet she’s always finding new recipes to try. It’s a nice pass time of hers to cook.

It doesn’t matter what type of cooking equipment you give her. She’ll gladly put it to use.

She realizes how well you know her from the gift. She laughs and now she’d like to cook with you or cook you a meal

She’ll plant kisses all over your face

“I shouldn’t be surprised you thought to buy this for me, thank you very much, cutie pie."

Ms. Joke 🧡🤡 Emi Fukukado

Chocolate or Sweet Treat

She adores chocolate but her favorite would have to be white chocolates. Her favorite sweet treat would have to be pie. Chocolate, cherry, and any cream pie are her favorites.

If you give her a candy bar or assorted white chocolates she'll thank you and make a joke about you proposing to her next

If you give her a whole pie she might use the opportunity to prank someone with it for a laugh

When you get her a slice of pie she'll get some of the cream on your nose or forehead. She is very grateful for the pie, she'll crack a joke and flirt with you.

"If I didn't know any better you're wanting brownie points. You sure you don't plan to propose? ..Ha! I'm joking! So want to kiss?"

Flowers

Her favorite flowers are daffodils and tulips. She loves receiving flowers from you. Its a wonderful gift

She enjoys smelling them then making a pick up line

"So does this mean we are going steady because I'm thinking we must if we already weren't"

Pendants or Earrings

She admires your jewelry related gifts with a huge smile. She'll be surprised by it and thank you very much. She's squeezing you in a hug and kissing your cheek

She thinks pendants look amazing and will compliment your taste

Ms. Joke thinks any type of earrings you give her are nice. She's a particular fan of studs and any goofy kinds

"You're so thoughtful and generous. Thanks, baby!"

Whoopie Cushions or Prankster Books

It doesn't come as a surprise she has endless books about pranks or jokes. She finds them very amusing and would like trying them on others especially Eraser head.

She doesn't mind other items for pranks but a good whoopie cushion is a classic in her book. She'll use them on students and children alike, they're put into good use.

"For me..? Thank you! Wanna make out?... Kidding! Unless you'd like to later that is." She giggles loving how she can make you blush or smile

Ryukyu ❤️🐲 Ryuko Tatsuma

Chocolate or Sweet Treat

She loves tiramisu or macaroons. She doesn't mind chocolate but prefers dark chocolate. Chocolate bars or assorted chocolates are appreciated.

When you present her with tiramisu she's delighted. She'll kiss your forehead for such a thoughtful gift.

"Trust me when I say I need this."

Gifting her Macaroons is yet another thoughtful gift. She will give you a beautiful smile and a thank you. She'll kiss your cheek in appreciation.

"Delicious I look forward to eating these later. I'll be sure to think of you." Later on you'll receive messages of love and appreciation from her.

Flowers

Her favorites are jasmines and orchids. She'll think you gifting her flowers is a bit romantic.

She'll be stunned at first but she's loving it

Gifting her, her favorite flowers make her blush

"For me? They're nice.. I'm speechless." She's smiling

Armlets or Anklets

She adores jewelry and wears them whenever she's not on hero duty. She's a particular fan of anklets and armlets. They go well with her dresses

Her eyes light up when you gift her jewelry, she'll immediately thank you

Giving her anklets and armlets automatically earns you a kiss from her

"Thank you, darling." She's smiling ear to ear.

#midnight x reader #miruko x reader #ms joke x reader #nana shimura x reader #ryuko tatsuma #ryukyu x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral s/o #my hero x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #rumi usagiyama x reader #dividers not mine #emi fukukado x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #mha headcanons

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mirukosbitchywife · 1 year

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if i was in the my hero acadamia universe nemuri would be my biggest weakness cuz doesn't her quirk work better on people who are attracted to her. i would fucking smell that purple mist from 5 miles away and get knocked the fuck out. absolutely down for the fucking count. if i'm a villain or vigilante i better fucking hope ive got some buddies that care enough about me to grab and carry me cuz if pro hero midnight hits the scene i'm not getting back up

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cafezinho9 · 2 years

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Could a male reader with wolf quirk, 2.10cm tall, tail then appear in an ear bumping and waking up like a dog and what is his girlfriend's reaction to seeing for the first time, a fluff with Mt. Lady, Midnight and Mirku please!

How could I turn down an offer like that? Both are one of my favorite characters! by the way, tall readers are rare, I like to write rare things lol

Gn reader(It can be read as male reader or female reader too!)

remembering, english is not my native language!

Mt. lady

It was a tiring week for Yu, constant patrols making her turn nights, but it was finally over and she ended up visiting her boyfriend y/n to enjoy the little break she would have, they both had a great date night, went out to dinner, went to beach, at home they had a game night while eating junk food, it was very comfortable, although she teased you a little about how you looked like an excited puppy because your tail wagged frantically when she saw it at your door.

In the end it ended up getting late and you asked if she would like to sleep there, Yu didn't refuse and decided to stay there for that night, showered and put on one of her clothes which by the way was too big on her making her wonder how you grew so much , the two of you lay down on the big double bed in your room and fell asleep together, it might not seem like it but she was happy, she slept a few times with you since they lived far away so these moments were very precious to her.

You both woke up slowly and at the same time, she shifted a little on the bed noticing you starting to pull away and when she turned towards her she caught a glimpse of your ears down as you made a little ball and opened up for good as if you were stretching right after sitting up and shaking her head, she'd never seen you do that since whenever you slept together either she woke up first to have to go to work or you woke up hungry first.

She stared at you sitting on the bed looking at some fixed point just finishing to really wake up, her tail was stretched out moving slowly, it seemed like stars appeared in Yu's eyes, she thought it was very cute, she sat on the bed and crawled up to you and jumping giving you a long hug from behind.

-How cute!

-hm?-You were confused and sleepy.

-Do you do this every time you wake up?

-What I do?

-A kind of ball and then stretch!

-I think so, it's customary to help me stretch.

-I need to see this more often! -She stated laying her head on her lap and looking at her face.

-I think you can only see if we wake up at the same time, which is rare.

“I should spend a whole week here just to wake up at the same time as you and watch this!” Her hands went up to her head and she started to caress her ear.

Yu will definitely talk about how cute she found this for the rest of the day and the heroes who go to work with her will have to listen, its lucky she doesn't talk to fans about it so as not to cause you trouble as most of her fans are half crazy, otherwise half the world would know how you wake up.

Mirku

It was a cold dawn when Mirku arrived home, she had prevented a school massacre with other professional heroes and it took much longer than imagined since the villains had hostages, as soon as she opened the door she could have a vision of you sitting lazily on the couch watching the news about life in the wild in a bunny sweatshirt he got from his girlfriend for his last birthday.

-I am home.

-How was work?-You asked the woman who was slowly approaching you, apparently tired, it had only been a few days since you started living together so there were many boxes around the house for you to pack.

-We had a lot of problems to ambush the group of villains who were holding hostages, but as I'm a great heroine, I successfully concluded.-Mirku sat next to her, opening her arms in which you soon approached her and hugged her.

-I think you better rest, tomorrow I'll pack the rest of these boxes.

-I'm not tired!

-Rumi...-You sighed-I'll buy you some fresh carrots tomorrow, ok?

She smiled and walked down the halls of the new house going to your room, getting some clothes and going to the bathroom.

You got up turning off the tv and went to the bedroom changing your clothes for a sleeping one (Imagine what you want, shirtless or not), took the big cotton blanket and spread it over the big double bed, it didn't take long for Mirku finishing your shower and jumping into bed, you laughed a little and then lay down next to your girlfriend, both hugged and curled up falling asleep in each other's warmth.

At dawn the alarm clock went off, for the first time Mirku didn't grumble and kept sleeping after the alarm clock went off, you curled up and then stretched out sitting on the bed and shaking your head, your mouth slightly dirty from nanny and your hair mussed by Mirku slept with the hands on it.

-I never noticed that you did that! It's funny.-Rumi ended up laughing.

-hm-You grumbled still trying to wake up fully.

-Is it something normal among wolves, or is it just you for being half wolf?

-I really don't know, my parents told me that some dogs did that.

-Puppy-Rumi scoffed.

-I don't say anything when you curl up like a rabbit in bed or when you're on your back wanting a little rub on your belly to sleep.

You guys had a cute little fight about your customs...

Midnight

You had been dating for some time, you two had just arrived from a coffee, Nemuri had the day off today and took the opportunity to spend the day with you, it ended up getting quite late and you invited her to sleep at your house, they often did that, despite when you wake up she is in the kitchen or has gone to work.

Entering the house she put her coat on the chair at the table next to the door, took off her shoes leaving it on the small rug in front of the door, you did the same and went right behind her towards the bedroom, there were some of her clothes that were there every time she slept so she took those clothes that were folded in her locker while you took your own clothes.

"Want to take a shower with me?" Nemuri asked as she opened the other door of her wardrobe and took a bath towel for herself.

-It might be.

The two of you even liked to relax together in the bathtub, no obscenity of course, just enjoy a hot bath in each other's comfort, although Nemuri sometimes says some naughty things.

You took a long shower together, dressed and went to the kitchen to get a piece of cake from the fridge and eat it, the woman stared at you for a few seconds while she ate her cake making you confused.

-Something wrong?

-I wonder how you grew so much, I'm even considered tall but look at you-You couldn't tell if she was incredulous or confused.

-Genetics? Or maybe my quirk, I don't know.

-You look like a basketball player.

-Was it supposed to be an offense?

-I don't know, but for me this is exciting.

-I think everything is exciting for you.

-All about you, now let's sleep, I need a good night's sleep.

- Alarm clock? - You asked as you went with her to her room.

-I think at noon, tomorrow I'll just go to the agency later.

-Right.

You set the alarm for noon and the two of you lay on the bed, she hugged you putting her head on her breasts and caressing your ears which by the way she likes a lot.

-Good night dear.-Nemuri kissed her head while you hugged her tightly.

You fell asleep quickly and by a miracle you didn't wake up earlier than the alarm, you both woke up to the alarm clock ringing, you turned it off and slowly separated yourself from your girlfriend who sat on the bed wiping her eyes with her hand until you cringe like a ball and stretch out by sitting in the middle of the bed with her legs crossed while shaking her head and yawning.

Nemuri was surprised, she found it very cute, especially her ears down and her tail stretched out as if it was stretching too, she approached you and hugged you from behind admiring the sight she just had.

-So cute! I need to see this more often!

-What?-You were confused and slightly flushed from feeling your girlfriend's hot body pressed to your back.

-You waking up, you're so cute, I definitely have to wake up more often when you're waking up!

-Y-did you find it cute? I find it kind of weird...- Her face was getting redder

-Baby this is so beautiful!

Midnight after that started sleeping with you more and trying to get up at the same time as you because she thought it was very cute, she will always hug you after you sit on the bed and talk about how cute it is, Ia's teachers had to listen to her talk about how cute you are waking up for almost 1 hour, Aizawa almost threw the bread she was eating in her face to see if she would stop talking and freak out.

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gigglingcloud · 9 months

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midnight Vigilante

Late night patrols aren't something new to the pro hero midnight, especially when she needs to be undercover in the red light district, but this time it wasn't some hormon drived men and women nor the human trafficking gangs, it was you the new Vigilante that's been roaming around for quite sometime now that caught her attention .

You saved her, and other women that were supposed to be abused prostitutes but you didn't receive a kiss and a "thank you my hero " like you expected, instead it was her wip wrapped around your body in mere seconds then you saw her body odor spreading pink heading towards you.

It was a surprise for both of you that night that none of you knew the other's motives and identity right away yet fought like there was no tomorrow , she took a glimpse of your face before she got dragged away by some random women that were evacuating the place.

And you knew it was her, after all this time, nemuri kayama in all her glory.

You two reunited again after months and this is how things went : ☟︎︎︎

youtube

#Midnight #kayama nemuri #Pro hero #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamy #My hero fanfic #My hero imagines #X listener #Midnight x reader #Kayama nemuri x you #Youtube #artists on tumblr

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cherrysnaps · 2 years

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POLE DANCING & LAP DANCE <3

featuring: midnight x reader

here’s kind of a sequel to the dancing headcanons bc I said so. this post contains content sexual in nature, ageless & minor blogs don’t interact: you will be blocked.

I like to think Nemuri has a whole ass stage in her living room specifically for the pole.

She leads you to a chair in the center of the living room, her fingers brushing against your arm in a fleeting, teasing way.

She’s wearing very little and the playful grin on her face suggests she takes great pleasure in way you’re looking at her.

You instantly know the song she chooses; it’s beyond suggestive and you’d actually shared it with her because it made you think of her.

She’s giving you sultry looks as she expertly sways her hips to the music, hooking a leg around the pole and spinning around.

She’s super intense but like, in a good way. She’s got you on the edge of your seat the entire time and you bet your ass she knows it.

Honestly I wouldn't put it past her to flash you at some point or another (even though she’s hardly wearing anything lmao.)

Your pole-dancing show eventually just turns into an erotic lap dance.

There isn’t much in terms of clothing for her to take off, but she’ll find a way to strip what she’s wearing and she’ll find a way to make it last entirely too long—in your opinion.

Once all that’s out of the way, she climbs into your lap and all but grinds on you, pushing her chest into your face and leaning in so close you can feel her breath on your neck.

It doesn’t stop here though, things are going to escalate from here iykwim.

#🔞 mdni #midnight x reader #midnight x you #nemuri kayama x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha midnight #bnha midnight

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frickingnerd · 24 days

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midnight crushing on her sidekick

pairing: nemuri kayama / midnight x male!reader

a/n: i really liked the concept of the midnight boys in vigilante, so i had to write for midnight crushing on one of them!

midnight was quite the popular hero amongst young men and she had caught your attention as well with her womanly charms

you knew that you wanted to be a part of her agency and become one of the so called “midnight boys” that were her sidekicks

so once you graduated, you applied for her agency and soon got the job as her sidekick – well, as one of them!

the other boys took you in quickly and helped you get accustomed with working for midnight

and it didn't take long until you got to meet midnight as well! after receiving a call, you and the other boys made your way to a crime scene, where midnight had just helped arrest a criminal

you were smitten the moment you first saw her in person, while midnight felt quite similar. you were quite the handsome young boy, just her type

from that day on, you kept getting more opportunities to work with her, even if it was mostly work such as bringing her a coffee or cleaning her office

but soon, it became clear that, despite you being the new guy, midnight had taken a liking to you, as she kept giving you the jobs that allowed the two of you to be close

though that was all she was doing for you, as she expected you to take the next step and ask her out!

after all, you're the sidekick, while she's the pro hero. you got this job because you wanted to be near her, so now you had to show you had enough courage to ask her out!

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duxearlier · 10 months

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FATED LOVE

< aizawa shouta x reader >

Synopsis: After graduating u.a, y/n l/n left Japan to pursue their career in America, leaving all of their friends behind. Few years later, they finally return and the first person they see is no other than their ex-boyfriend Aizawa Shota bringing back some old feelings that they never thought would come back.

warning: Spoiler warning, swearing, yelling, bullying.

genre: Ex lovers to lovers, angst, hurt, fluff, lots of lots of hurt tho-. It does get better at the end. I promise.

taglist: open

PROFILES

materlist || chapter one>

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

<taglist> @legolashaught @archer-fb @mysideeffectsofyou @vampiretoothh

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

-y/n quirk is called Spirit. They have a spirit figure that obeys any command. The spirits name is 'Sy'

-Rumi, Hawks and y/n are best friends. Even when y/n left they kept in contact.

-Aizawa and y/n used to be high-school sweethearts but when they graduated they broke it off for a reason and y/n left.

-All might holds a grudge against them for leaving to this day still.

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daswarschonkaputt · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday Aizawa/Harry Potter One Night Stand AU

okay, so when i wrote this i was deeply nostalgic for a period of fanfic where you just sort of dumped harry into whatever fandom you wanted and shipped him with someone. (did i read a lot of twilight x harry potter crossovers in my youth? yes. i am only slightly ashamed.) and i was like, you know who would be great? unlikely fandom sex symbol, aizawa. so that’s where this fic comes from.

Summary

A wizard and a pro-hero walk into a bar. It’s only the start of their problems.

Content warnings: attempted suicide and discussion thereof (minor character), suicide baiting (same minor character), implied/referenced animal abuse.

“Two mojitos, and a—what do you want to drink, Shouta?”

Aizawa blinks, looking up from the menu he’s spent the past ten minutes supposedly engrossed in. “Water’s fine,” he says.

Beside him, Nemuri rolls her eyes. “He’ll take an old fashioned,” she says. “On me. I’m not letting you spend your birthday sober.”

The better present, Aizawa can’t help but think, would have been to let him sleep. He sighs, but accepts the drink when it’s handed to him, and dutifully follows his friends to a table at the back of the bar. He doesn’t even complain when they take the two seats facing the bar’s entrance, leaving him with the tactically unnerving position of staring at a wall.

“How goes the uphill climb?” Hizashi asks, sprawled in his seat. “You’ve got how many left now?”

“Three,” Aizawa says.

Nemuri’s eyes widen. “Three? It was four yesterday.”

Aizawa shrugs. Takes a sip of his drink, which seems to mostly taste like whisky.

“Man, you heroics tutors really have it easy,” Nemuri says. “You know how many kids get expelled from the management track? I’m lucky if I lose even one – let alone seventeen.”

“I’m not mad about it,” Hizashi says. “Seventeen fewer assignments to mark. Seventeen fewer times I have to look like an asshole for calling out obvious copying. Do you know how many of your kids supposedly mistranslated manual labour as a hand job, Nemuri? Fifteen. At least Shouta’s hellions are too dysfunctional to cooperate on cheating.”

Nemuri’s laugh is tinged with something close to pride. “Yeah, the little bastards are pretty industrious,” she agrees. “But – come on, Shouta. Don’t leave us in suspense. Which one of your brats got the axe this time?”

Aizawa swirls the amber liquid of his drink. “Yamakawa.”

Nemuri taps the table thoughtfully. “Blonde kid, cutting quirk, costume that looks like a peacock?” At his nod, she tilts her head. “Huh. Any reason?”

Aizawa sighs. He doesn’t especially want to get into this right now. “Penchant for animal abuse.”

“Ah.”

It hadn’t been a particularly fun call to receive – a police detective calling him in at five in the morning on the day of his birthday, because one of his wayward students had been picked up for illegal quirk use on stray cats. Listening to Yamakawa’s stuttering justifications – how else was he meant to learn control? – had been somehow even less fun. Hauling his exhausted body back to campus to try and drill some semblance of sense into his remaining students had honestly felt like twisting the knife.

Happy fucking birthday, Aizawa guesses.

Nemuri puts her empty glass down on the table with an audible clink. “Another round?”

Hizashi nods. “Maybe grab two, whilst you’re up.”

“Shouta, you good?”

Aizawa indicates his drink – barely touched.

She grabs her wallet off the table, then pauses, and undoes two buttons on her shirt. Her smile is wicked. “Cleavage discount,” she explains with a wink – and Aizawa momentarily regrets every second he’s ever known her.

As she saunters over to the bar, a noticeable swing in her hips, Hizashi’s relaxed smile falls.

“So,” he says, voice unusually quiet as he leans in towards Aizawa. “What was it this year?”

Aizawa momentarily considers downing his drink to avoid having to have this conversation – but he doubts alcohol would help much with it at all. “A watch,” he says, words stilted. “Patek Phillipe. Very expensive.”

“Engraved?”

He hates that Hizashi knows to ask. “To her darling Shouchan. There was a note. She wants me over for dinner.”

“You’re not going to go.”

Aizawa shrugs.

“Shouta.”

“I’m not stupid, Hizashi,” he says, because it’s easier than putting into words the gut-wrenching, sickening hope that he’d felt when he ran his fingers over the handwritten card. “She’s never going to divorce him.”

“Even if she does,” Hizashi says, “it doesn’t erase—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Aizawa says.

“What aren’t we talking about?”

Aizawa doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He contents himself with shooting a scathing look at Hizashi – as the one with the vantage point, he’s the one whose job it was to watch out for Nemuri’s return.

Hizashi smiles apologetically at him, before picking up a glass. “Online dating,” he lies smoothly.

Nemuri laughs as she unloads the tray of drinks – a veritable armada of cocktails, all various degrees of lurid. “For Shouta?” she asks. “Really?”

Aizawa sighs. Trust Hizashi to pick the worst possible lie. “I work two jobs,” he says. “I don’t have time to date.”

“Please, I work like five, and I still find the time to take out a pretty lady or two,” Hizashi says.

“And two jobs is stretching it a little, given your class size,” Nemuri says. “It’s more like – what, twenty percent of a job now?”

“Fifteen,” Hizashi corrects absent-mindedly.

“Anyway, the whole point of online dating is that you can work it around your schedule,” Nemuri says. “Hizashi and I could even put together your profile for you. Just send me a photo of your abs and you’ll have to beat them away with a stick.”

Aizawa can’t think of anything less appealing than having a photo of his bare torso posted anywhere online, much less in Nemuri’s possession. “No.”

“C’mon, Shouta, live a little—”

“I’m not interested.”

Nemuri sighs. “Fine. But only because it’s your birthday.” She drains another drink, pushing it towards their slowly growing collection of empty cocktail glasses. Given the assortment she ordered earlier, Aizawa can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to complete some sort of collection. “You hear the rumours about All Might?”

“What, that he’s retiring?” Hizashi asks. “I’ll believe it when I see it. He’s been supposedly on the brink of retirement for the past ten years.”

“I meant more that I heard he’s considering a post at UA,” Nemuri says.

Aizawa raises his eyebrows. That is new. “Where did you hear that?”

“My sources are many and varied,” Nemuri says. “People tell me all sorts of things.”

Aizawa stares at her.

“Fine. I saw that skinny blond guy that works for him leaving Nedzu’s office.” She reaches for another cocktail. “Not many reasons why a hero’s secretary might be wandering the halls of UA – especially not one that looks the way that guy does. He looks like he’s a few sharp coughs away from losing a lung. All Might should let the guy retire – or at least hire him an assistant.”

“Pros like All Might don’t tend to be that plugged in to the concerns of their staff,” Aizawa says flatly. “It probably hasn’t even crossed his mind that his assistant might need help.”

“Careful Shouta,” Hizashi says. “Your anti All Might bias is showing.”

Aizawa opens his mouth to refute that, but is cut across by Nemuri. “Ugh,” she says. “Don’t make a scene, but I’m pretty sure the guy at the bar has clocked me.”

It’s a hazard of hero work, getting recognised off-duty. Aizawa knows some pros relish the fame, but the three of them try and stay fairly low profile. Aizawa has always eschewed the spotlight, and Hizashi looks completely different out of costume – so the only one of them who ever really gets approached is Nemuri, for whom scandal had come early and viciously, and never really left.

Curious, Aizawa subtly cranes his neck to glance behind them. He picks out Nemuri’s hero fan with ease – he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s staring at them. He’s—well, the first thing that comes to mind is handsome. He certainly stands out, that’s for sure. He’s not Japanese, but he isn’t white either, and Aizawa doesn’t know enough to guess at his background without embarrassing himself. Aizawa clocks the rest of his features absent-mindedly: average height; lean build; a mess of jet black hair barely restrained by a short pony tail at the base of his neck; large, circular glasses; and, behind them, a pair of vivid green eyes, the kind of intense colour that you don’t see often without some kind of quirk behind it.

“Why do you sound so mad?” Hizashi asks. “He’s hot, and he’s a fan of yours. Just your kind of man. Go forth and—sluttify, or whatever.”

Nemuri swats him. “It’s Shouta’s birthday,” she says. “I’m not about to abandon him for a nameless hook-up.”

“Ah. So you’re mad because he’s hot.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Nemuri says. “It doesn’t matter if he’s hot. Who cares what a guy’s face looks like if you’re just going to sit on it?”

Aizawa glances balefully at Nemuri and Hizashi’s accumulated empty glasses. Three each. What, exactly, was the alcohol content in those things?

“I’m certain I don’t want to know the context,” comes a voice from behind Aizawa, and he tenses a little; he didn’t hear the approach, “but I’ll cop to curiosity.”

Aizawa turns around as conversation stalls. It’s the guy from the bar – the unknowing subject of Nemuri’s crude attempt at wisdom.

“I’m Harry,” the guy says. “And I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?”

Aizawa turns to Nemuri, ready to be appalled by however she decides to dismiss ‘Harry’ – but she’s frozen, eyes wide, mouth open. Aizawa looks back to the guy – and that’s when he realises that the question was directed at him.

Oh. Oh. This is… New? Unusual. Strange.

The thing is, Aizawa knows he’s not without appeal. He has good bone structure. As Nemuri frequently points out, he has abs. He even cleans up nice, on the rare occasions he decides to make an effort.

But – and this is the real kicker – Aizawa’s not trying to be attractive.

He doesn’t iron his clothes – doesn’t really see the point, when he never has the time, and the only people he ever sees are his students, who know to fear him regardless of his clothing, his co-workers, none of whom would be fooled by a pressed shirt, and the villains he arrests, who are generally far too pre-occupied trying to kill him to notice his outfit. On a similar note, he doesn’t own anything that’s not black or dark grey, because anything lighter tends to accumulate bloodstains which he doesn’t have the patience to try and remove.

His hair is long, because he finds cutting it more of a chore than simply pulling it into a scraggly bun when he needs it out of his face – and it’s full of split ends because he uses whichever shampoo is on sale whenever he gets the time to go to the store. He shaves when he remembers to, which is rarely, and it probably wouldn’t be an issue if his facial hair had gotten the memo that he was in fact 30 years old, and not a teenager delighted with patchy peach fuzz.

As Nemuri put it once: he looks just a little bit homeless.

Faced with objective, undeniable interest in him, Aizawa’s first thought is, This man is after something. Which, his rational brain points out, whilst paranoid and ridiculous, is probably at least partially true.

Just – the something this guy is after is probably sex. With Aizawa.

And not the drunk and slutty Aizawa who trawled gay clubs with Nemuri in his early 20s, desperate to prove himself and validate his sexuality – not even the well-groomed and professional Aizawa who’s been called into court to testify – no. This guy is into the scruffy, tired, post-patrol, post-five-AM-callout, post-teaching Aizawa who would rather be sleeping than drinking and looks like it.

Aizawa doesn’t really know what to do with that.

The guy is still staring at him, waiting for an answer. Aizawa opens his mouth, not even certain what he’s going to say when he starts. “I—”

“Get him something with coffee,” Nemuri cuts across him. Her shock has melted away to an almost predatory eagerness. “An – what’s the cocktail with espresso in it?”

“An espresso martini?” Harry says. He says the cocktail name in perfect, lilting English that has Hizashi tilting his head. Something in his accent then – something not American. Australian, most likely, but possibly British.

“That okay with you?”

The question is once more directed at Aizawa, who looks to Nemuri and Hizashi. There’s a palpable air of excitement between the two of them, now that Hot Foreigner’s target has been revealed to be Aizawa. They’re probably about two drinks away from stripping him naked and dropping him into the guy’s lap.

It surprises him when he realises that he’s actually considering it. Am I really going to do this? he asks himself.

The answer, when it comes, is deceptively simple. Yeah. Because I want to. Maybe this is the universe’s version of a birthday gift – or at the very least an apology. Good job on soldiering through those thirty years, Aizawa. Now go get dicked down like you deserve.

It’s the type of thing—

Never mind.

“You know what?” Aizawa says, standing. “How about I come with you and order for myself?”

Harry smiles.

As Aizawa follows him away from the table, he turns back to Nemuri and Hizashi. They’re practically vibrating in their seats, just waiting for Aizawa and Harry to leave their earshot, so they can explode into a thousand different conversations about what just happened.

Aizawa smirks at them, and turns back to Harry.

“I know it’s a cliché, but I have to ask,” Harry says, as they wait for the bartender to make his drink – which Aizawa had chosen blindly off the menu. He knows very little about cocktails. “Do you come here often?”

“No,” Aizawa says. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“We have that much in common,” Harry says. “I’m only here because I’m staying at the hotel across the street. I haven’t even been drinking alcohol, though I think this is the most I’ve ever paid for a glass of orange juice.” He leans against the bar, somehow still graceful when he’s all but slouching. “So, do I get a name?”

“Aizawa,” Aizawa says simply. He’s not in the habit of giving out his full name – professional paranoia, if nothing else.

“Just Aizawa?” Harry asks.

“Just Harry?”

Harry laughs. It’s a nice sound. Easy. The laugh of a civilian. Aizawa doesn’t know many pro-heroes who can laugh like that. “Okay, okay, but you’ve got to give me a little more to work with than ‘Aizawa who doesn’t like drinking’.”

The bartender finishes making Aizawa’s drink and slides it over to him. Aizawa takes a sip. It’s sweet, with a sour kick – not his usual fare, but pretty good. “I never said I don’t like it,” he says. “Just that I don’t do it much.”

“There’s a difference?” Harry asks, leaning in towards him.

“I only drink socially,” Aizawa says. “And I’m very busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Harry asks lightly. “What’s your particular brand of busy, then?”

“Teacher.”

“Troublesome students?”

If only he knew. “Saying that implies the existence of non-troublesome students,” Aizawa says, because it’s about the most neutral thing he can manage after the mess with Yamakawa.

Harry smiles again. “I want to refute you, but I wasn’t exactly a shining beacon of obedience in my school days.”

Aizawa takes another sip of his drink. “You seem to have turned out fine.”

“What’s adolescence without a little skulduggery and civil disobedience?”

“Easier on your teachers,” Aizawa says. “And you?”

“And me what?”

“What’s your brand of busy?”

Harry shrugs. “Depends who you ask,” he says. “If I tell you I’m a lazy, useless layabout, frittering away my youth and inherited wealth, will you walk away and never talk to me again?”

It’s said lightly, and with an air of self-deprecation, but Aizawa isn’t entirely convinced it’s true. Lazy, useless layabouts do not fly to Japan, turn up in bars wearing business casual, and decline the opportunity to drink. Aizawa would know. Half of his childhood friends turned out like that.

“Inherited wealth,” Aizawa says, instead of any of that, “usually comes with an accompanying burden of grief. So I’d say no, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

Harry blinks at that, his easy-going demeanour faltering slightly. “Thanks,” he says, after a pause.

It’s a little too personal for both of them. Aizawa drains the remainder of his cocktail, and puts his glass down at the bar. “Close your tab,” he tells Harry.

Harry raises his eyebrows.

“You have a hotel room across the street,” Aizawa says. “How about you show me it?”

Aizawa is awoken by a loud, persistent buzzing. There’s a pleasant kind of residual heat in his muscles, the kind he gets after a good workout, or a patrol that passed without any rough landings. An arm is slung over him, fingers curling loosely somewhere near his hipbone.

Aizawa closes his eyes, letting the memories of last night wash over him.

Harry. The bar. Harry. A fancy hotel room. Drinks from the mini fridge. A hand brushing his hair from his eyes. A wicked smile. Letting himself be pushed down onto the bed. Harry’s huffing laughter in his ear.

It was almost nice. Nicer than these things typically run.

The buzzing sound continues, coming from the floor across the room.

“You going to get that?” It comes from Aizawa’s side, raspy in a way that has Aizawa’s stomach coiling. He know who put that rasp in Harry’s voice. “Good morning, Aizawa-san.”

Aizawa turns his head, taking in Harry’s appearance. In the morning light, there’s something softer, less guarded, about Harry. Without the suit and easy charm, he looks younger.

“It’s a bit late for honorifics,” Aizawa grunts, rolling out of the bed. He picks up the first item of clothing he finds – Harry’s suit jacket – and puts it to the side.

“Eh,” Harry says, waving a lazy hand. “Formality and I only really have a passing acquaintance, even in English. Keigo baffles me.”

Aizawa finds his pants behind the television, and digs through his pockets until he finds his phone. It buzzes plaintively in his hand, screen alight with a call from an unknown number. Aizawa sighs and answers it.

“Is this Aizawa Shouta?” a woman asks.

“Speaking,” Aizawa says. He sees Harry mouthing ‘Shouta’ with a grin, and turns away from him.

“I’m calling from Mustafu General Hospital,” the woman says. “Last night a student of yours was brought in. Normally, we’d call the parents, but you were listed as her emergency contact.”

It’s standard UA procedure to list a hero student’s homeroom teacher as their emergency contact. In cases where a student has been injured during a work study, or targeted by a villain, it’s useful to have UA staff notified as soon as possible following the incident – and civilian parents don’t tend to have the forethought to call their child’s school teacher in times of crisis.

Truthfully, it could be any one of his students – past or present – but Aizawa has a bad feeling. “Name?” he asks.

There’s a pause. “Toukei Hayaka.”

Aizawa closes his eyes. Of course. Because it was too much to ask for one night off.

Toukei is one of his Class 1A hellions, a meek and mild-mannered girl who has spent her time at UA quietly keeping her head down, and as such has dodged the worst of his ire. Arguably, she has the most potential of her remaining classmates – she works hard, she cares about people, and, critically, she listens, which automatically places her a cut above the rest. Her one flaw has always been indecision. She second-guesses herself, and hesitates.

In hero work, hesitation can get you killed.

Aizawa really hopes it hasn’t killed her just yet.

Glancing at Harry, who isn’t even pretending to hide his eavesdropping, Aizawa refrains from asking for any further details. He’s not about to broadcast a teenager’s private medical information to his one night stand. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be down there soon. Is she awake?”

“No, sir.”

“Have someone available to brief me when I get there,” he says, and hangs up.

Aizawa shoves his feet into his pant legs, zipping up his fly, and hunting for his boots. Something dark appears in his field of view, and he flinches – before he realises it’s Harry, offering him his shirt.

Aizawa takes it. “Thanks.”

“Duty calls?” Harry asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Something like that,” Aizawa says.

“Hm,” Harry says. “Well, this does disrupt my plans somewhat. I’d planned to ply you with breakfast in bed and intelligent conversation—”

“I really have to go—”

“—before asking for your number.”

Aizawa pauses, halfway through lacing up his boots.

“So?” Harry asks. “Can I get your number?”

Aizawa opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I—”

“You didn’t,” Hizashi sounds far too appalled for how hungover he must be. “C’mon, Shouta, he was hot!”

“He was charming,” Aizawa corrects as he exits the cab, slapping his UA expenses card onto the reader without even glancing at the amount. “People like that don’t get told no often.”

“So, what, you decided to turn your morning after into a teachable moment?”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t interested in furthering our relationship,” he says.

“That’s cold, Shouta.”

Aizawa sighs pressing his phone into his shoulder as he flashes his Hero ID at the receptionist of Mustafu General. “Toukei Hayaka.”

She nods, tapping away on the computer. A few moments, and she tells him the ward and bed number. Aizawa smiles at her and heads for the elevators.

“I told you last night,” he says, bringing the phone back up to his ear. “I don’t have time to date, not even conventionally attractive foreigners from—” He pauses, realising that he never actually managed to find out where, exactly, Harry was from.

“England,” Hizashi finishes for him. “He could have been after something casual.”

The elevator arrives before Aizawa can formulate a response. He boards, plugs in the floor number the receptionist gave him, and thinks over what, exactly he wants to say to Hizashi. Truthfully, Aizawa knew that Harry was likely only after a bit of fun – nothing serious, nothing involved. Inherited wealth or no, hotels like Harry’s aren’t usually affordable on a semi-permanent basis.

And that had made something in Aizawa curl. “I don’t do casual,” Aizawa says, after a moment.

“Your track record says you don’t do anything—” Hizashi starts, but at that point the elevator doors open, and Aizawa sighs.

“Hizashi, I’ll call you back.” He hangs up the call, dropping his phone into his jacket pocket, and walks over to the bench of seats directly opposite the elevator. Curled up, clothes soaked in blood is Gentoku Akira. 1A Hellion #2.

“So,” Aizawa says, and Gentoku flinches, eyes going wide at the sight of him. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or do I have to guess?”

Gentoku’s fist is white where it’s clutching his bloody shirt. “Sensei, I—” he stammers. “Hayaka-chan, she—” He looks at his lap. “I couldn’t—I tried, but I couldn’t—”

Aizawa suppresses a sigh. He’s probably not going to get much out of him at this juncture, but it’s probably not a good idea to let Gentoku leave – not until Aizawa has figured out exactly what has happened. “Here,” Aizawa says, handing Gentoku his phone. It’s locked, and Aizawa’s not on call, so he’s unlikely to get any sensitive phone calls. “Look after this for me.”

Gentoku takes the phone and clutches it like a lifeline.

“If Present Mic calls, feel free to answer,” Aizawa says. “Anyone else, reject the call. I expect you to still be here when I get back. If you run off with my phone, I’m going to be less than pleased.”

Gentoku nods jerkily.

Time to turn the screws a little. “I’m trusting you with this, Gentoku.” The guilt trip isn’t the kindest thing Aizawa has ever done, but it does the trick. Gentoku looks rooted to the spot, hands clasping Aizawa’s phone like his life depends on it. Likely, he believes it does.

With one last glance back at Gentoku, Aizawa walks through the sliding glass doors into the hospital ward.

“A suicide attempt,” Aizawa echoes dully. He looks through the sliding glass doors to where Toukei lies, pale and motionless, wires and tubing surrounding her body.

“That’s what we think,” Dr Hanabe says, fiddling with her glasses. “She was brought in by a classmate with a stasis quirk – he probably saved her life, even if he neglected to call an ambulance. He carried her across the city, and then promptly collapsed from quirk exhaustion. We got him hooked up to an IV, but he checked out AMA.”

Aizawa closes his eyes. “Has she said anything?”

Dr Hanabe shakes her head. “She had a brief moment of consciousness a few hours ago, but she was intubated. Couldn’t talk. She showed signs of distress, so we sedated her. She’s been asleep since.”

This is… a huge mess, frankly. Aizawa wouldn’t be surprised if there was an internal investigation at UA following this. A suicide attempt on his watch – he’s supposed to be better than this. More aware.

“I know it’s a long shot,” Aizawa says, “but did she have anything with her when she was brought in? A note, or a keepsake, or even her phone?”

“If she had anything, her classmate likely took it with him when he left,” Dr Hanabe says.

“Have you called her parents?”

Dr Hanabe shakes her head. “She’s a UA student, and you’re her emergency contact. Protocol says we wait for your arrival – just in case this is wrapped up in something sensitive.”

“You can call them now,” Aizawa says. “I’m going to be in the area all day. Let me know if she wakes up. If she’s up to it, we need to have a talk.”

“Of course, Eraserhead,” Dr Hanabe says.

It’s times like this that remind Aizawa why he doesn’t drink alone.

When he exits the ward, he finds Gentoku in the same position he left him. He’s staring at Aizawa’s phone like it’s a puzzle he can’t figure out.

Aizawa holds out his hand for his phone. Gentoku blinks a few times, and then hands it over.

“Sensei,” Gentoku says, after a moment of hesitation. “Are you gay?”

Aizawa raises his eyebrows. “I take it Present Mic called,” he says.

“Yeah. He, uh. He had a lot to say about someone named Harry,” Gentoku says. “He shut up when he realised it was me. He’s—he was very nice.”

Aizawa sighs, dropping into the seat next to Gentoku. “I heard what happened from the doctor,” he says. “You saved Toukei’s life.”

“I should have called an ambulance.”

“Probably,” Aizawa agrees. “But she’s still alive. No-one died, this time, and you’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t want there to be a next time,” Gentoku says quietly.

“Neither do I,” Aizawa says. “But there always is.”

Gentoku sits in silence for a moment. “Am I in trouble?”

“What would you be in trouble for?” Aizawa asks.

“I—I froze Hayaka-chan using Stasis Touch,” Gentoku says.

“Yes, and?”

“I don’t have a heroics licence.”

Aizawa sighs. “You have a medical quirk, Gentoku,” he says.

“It’s—I guess, technically—”

“Toukei would have died if you didn’t freeze her,” Aizawa says. “You saved her life, using your quirk – precisely the kind of situation that the medical exemption subclause of the vigilante laws is designed to protect. You didn’t do anything illegal.”

“So, I’m not getting expelled?” Gentoku looks like he might cry.

Aizawa sighs again. “No, you’re not getting expelled. Forgoing the ambulance was stupid, and I’m not pleased that you checked out of hospital against medical advice, but none of those are fatal flaws. You still have potential. I’m still willing to teach you to be a hero.”

Gentoku looks down at his hands. They’re still covered in blood – much like his clothes. Aizawa wonders why no-one at the hospital thought to grab him some scrubs.

“What if—” he pauses. “What if—I’m not willing?”

Aizawa looks at him closely. “That’s your choice,” he says.

“It’s just—” Gentoku looks up at him, and meets his eyes properly for the first time since Aizawa got to the hospital. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he says. “When I found Hayaka-chan, it was—it was the worst day of her life. She—she’d never have wanted me to see that. And I realised that heroes—all you see are the worst days of people’s lives. And I don’t think I can do that and still—” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do it, sensei.”

Aizawa leans back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. Truthfully, he’s not built for this kind of thing. He’s always struggled with the softer side of heroics – learning how to save someone with your words, rather than your quirk. Hizashi and Nemuri find it effortless – and that, more than anything else, is why he went underground, instead of into the spotlight.

Sitting in this cheap hospital chair, in the midst of losing one student, having already lost one today, he feels his inadequacy keenly.

“Heroics isn’t for the faint of heart,” Aizawa says at length. “You’re right. You see a lot of bad things – many more than you manage to stop. But the driving force of every hero is believing in the inevitability of gradualness. You have to have faith that just by doing your bit, by chipping away at the problem, you can make some small difference. That you can make the world better one person at a time. Not everyone can do that. And if you can’t, it’s better you figure it out now, than ten years down the line when the stakes are much, much higher.”

He lets that sit with Gentoku for a while.

“Sensei,” Gentoku says suddenly. “Hayaka-chan, she had her phone with her when she—” he breaks off, turning his head. “I didn’t mean to look at it, but the messages kept coming in. They were—they weren’t good.”

Aizawa accepts the subject change gracefully. “You still have it?” he asks.

Gentoku nods. He pulls it out of the front pocket of his hoodie and hands it over.

“Gentoku,” Aizawa says. “Regardless of whether you choose to stay in 1A, I want you to know I will not allow the matter of Hayaka-chan’s suicide attempt to be brushed aside. There will be an investigation, and there will be consequences for those involved.” He puts a hand on Gentoku’s shoulder. “You can rest now, Gentoku. I’ll handle it from here.”

He stands up.

“Are you leaving?” Gentoku asks.

“We’re checking you back into the hospital,” Aizawa says, “and we’re calling your parents. Quirk exhaustion’s no joke.”

Selfish bitch.

Just kill yourself already. No one wants you here.

Everyone knows you’re just a villain waiting to happen. Do us all a favour and—

A polystyrene cup of coffee appears in Aizawa’s field of vision. He looks up, following the hand up to its owner. Hizashi smiles sadly at him.

Aizawa puts the phone down on Toukei’s bed. “Thanks,” he says, taking the coffee.

“Any time,” Hizashi says. He leans against the wall next to Aizawa. “Anything of note?” he asks, nodding at the phone.

“A diatribe of harassment and suicide baiting,” Aizawa answers. “All from private numbers, or anonymous accounts. I’ll hand the phone over to Nedzu tomorrow. He’ll have more of an idea what to do with it.”

“How’d you get her passcode, anyway?” Hizashi takes a sip of his own cup of coffee.

“Touch ID.”

“Ah.”

It’s quiet in Toukei’s small hospital room. It’s just them, Toukei, and the one-to-one nurse assigned to watch her.

“Did you notify the hospital about her quirk?” Hizashi asks.

“It was in her file,” Aizawa says. He nods at the tube lodged in Toukei’s mouth. “Hard to hold your breath when you’re intubated.”

Toukei’s quirk is equal parts understated and terrifying. It freezes perception of time for people within her field of vision, so long as she holds her breath. Aizawa had been eyeing her for a future in underground heroics, but there’d been some mumblings between her and Gentoku about forming a hero duo that Aizawa had neither encouraged nor discouraged.

“You going to keep her in the class?” Hizashi asks.

“I can’t,” Aizawa says. “Not after this.” He swirls the coffee in his cup, watching the harsh hospital light glint off it at different angles.

“She could make up the missed hours once she’s done with treatment.”

“That’s not it,” Aizawa says. He lowers the cup of coffee without drinking from it. “Pro-heroes put their life on the line daily. I’d have no guarantee that…”

“That she wasn’t just waiting for a socially acceptable way to die,” Hizashi finishes.

Aizawa nods. Maybe another teacher at UA would have a different answer. Maybe Kan, or Nemuri, or even Hizashi would know themselves capable of supporting a student like Toukei. But Aizawa knows himself, and he knows what he swore, when he took his job at UA. He would not be complicit in sending children out to die.

He sighs, and finally brings the cup of coffee up to his lips for a sip. Oh. Yikes. “This is awful.”

Hizashi grins. “Yeah, I know. I was waiting for you to drink it.”

Aizawa feels something warm bloom in his chest. In an hour’s time, Toukei’s parents will be here. In an hour’s time, Aizawa will haul his body out of this chair, and bow to ninety degrees, and apologise for his failures as a teacher. In an hour’s time, he will calmly answer any questions they might have, and he will accept their reaction, whatever it may be.

But he won’t be doing it alone.

The afternoon is melting away into night by the time Aizawa arrives on Anzu Street in the suburban edges of Mustafu. He’s changed out of his casual black clothes into the only suit he owns – black, a little rumpled, usually reserved for funerals and weddings – and forced a brush through his hair. The end result is not quite professional, but presentable at the very least.

He inhales, flexes his knuckles around the handle of his briefcase, and then knocks on house number 38.

There’s a pause – the sound of footsteps – and then, the door opens.

He grimly meets the eyes of Aomori Shizuka. 1A Hellion #3.

Her eyes go wide. “Aizawa-sensei?” she asks. “What are you doing here?”

“Are your parents here?” Aizawa asks.

“My mother is,” Aomori says. “What’s…”

“I need to speak to you both. Can I come in?”

Aomori’s mother is pretty – she has that much in common with her daughter – and apparently baffled by everything about him. She gives him a polite, if confused, greeting, and invites him to sit at their kitchen table.

“Do you want some tea, Aizawa-san?”

“No,” Aizawa says.

“Or some water, or juice – I know it’s a bit late for caffeine.”

“Aomori-san, please sit down.”

Aomori’s mother falters. She sits. Her daughter hovers in the doorway of the kitchen. “You too,” Aizawa tells her.

With some reluctance, she does.

“Aizawa-san,” Aomori’s mother says after a moment, “is something wrong?”

Aizawa reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a manilla folder. He slides it across the table to the two women. “These are copies of messages that your daughter sent to another student,” he says. “Last night, the student in question attempted to end their life.”

Aomori’s mother goes very, very pale. She flips open the folder, eyes scanning down the pages of messages. “This isn’t—” she looks up at him. “This isn’t my daughter’s user name. Or her number.”

“Some of the messages were sent using UA’s campus wi-fi,” Aizawa explains. “We require students to login to our internet services with their details. We were able to track these messages back to her digital profile.”

Aomori’s mother is quiet. “The other student – are they okay?”

“They’re alive,” Aizawa says. “I’m not authorised to share any more details of their condition.”

“Will there be charges?”

Aomori jolts. “Mom—”

“Be quiet,” her mother snaps. “Aizawa-san, do you know if they intend to pursue charges?”

“The family of the student do not intend to seek criminal or civil charges against your daughter,” Aizawa says. “For now, they are focused on ensuring their child’s wellbeing, and a court case would not be conducive to that. That may change, a few months down the line. I have not advised them either way.”

Aomori’s mother clasps a hand to her mouth. “Thank you,” she says. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“There will, however, be consequences for this,” Aizawa says. “Given the conduct of your daughter, Aomori-san, UA has decided to proceed with expulsion from our hero course. We will not, at this time, be extending the offer of a place in one of our other departments.

“This incident will be included in your daughter’s permanent record,” Aizawa continues. “We have also made the additional decision to personally inform future schools your daughter may choose to attend of her conduct.”

Aomori’s mother looks—ruined. “Aizawa-san, please—”

Aizawa stands. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Aizawa-san—” There’s a thud behind him. He turns back, just slightly, to the sight of Aomori’s mother on her knees on the kitchen floor. She sinks into a deep bow, her head colliding with the floor with an audible smack.

“I have taught my daughter poorly,” Aomori’s mother says. “Please preserve her future.”

“Mom,” Aomori says, tugging at her mother’s arm. “Mom, get up. Mom, please don’t do this.”

“I have taught my daughter poorly,” her mother says again, rising, and then lowering her head once more. “Please preserve her future.”

Aizawa sighs. He kneels down, and pulls Aomori’s mother up, out of dogeza, and to her feet. “Aomori-san,” he says gently, “as a teacher, I understand your desire to protect the future of your daughter. My first concern is always to protect the future of my students.”

He notices that she’s crying. “Then—”

“But as a pro-hero,” he says, “I have a duty to more than just your daughter. I have a duty to protect the future of the student currently lying in a hospital bed, following a suicide attempt. I have a duty to protect the future of the student who found them, and saved their life. I have a duty to protect the futures of other vulnerable students your daughter may encounter. I have been as lenient as I can be, given all these things.”

Aomori’s mother looks at him, and then collapses into sobs.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Aizawa says again. He turns and leaves.

It’s as he’s sliding out of the Aomori household’s slippers and back into his dress shoes, that Aomori the younger finally approaches him.

“Toukei-chan,” she says. “Is she really going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Aizawa answers honestly.

“I—I didn’t really want her dead.”

Aizawa looks at her. Even now, he doesn’t know why she did it. Doubtlessly, there’s some deeper reason – but he finds he doesn’t care. “For someone who didn’t want her dead,” he says, finally, standing up, “you were very convincing.”

“It’s a little impressive frankly,” Nemuri says. “Three students to none in 24 hours. You really are the picture of efficiency, Shouta.”

She reaches across their table and steals a piece of pork out of Aizawa’s bento. Aizawa, who has been subjected to this kind of vulgar behaviour for nearly fifteen years, lets it happen without a fight.

“What did Nedzu have to say?” Hizashi asks. He also dips his chopsticks into Aizawa’s lunch, but he’s after the red peppers.

“The investigation is still ongoing,” Aizawa says. “On the request of the auditing team, I’ve been temporarily suspended from teaching.” He pulls a few bamboo shoots out of Nemuri’s own lunch – fair is fair.

“Did he give you a prognosis?” Nemuri asks.

“He didn’t seem to think I had anything to worry about,” Aizawa says, “but it might take a couple of months. The team wants to re-examine my history of expulsions.”

Hizashi snorts. “A couple of months might be understating it in that case,” he says.

Aizawa shrugs. There’d been a little more to it when Nedzu went over it – some concern from the internal panel that his ‘trigger-happy expulsion policy’ (a direct quote) might have contributed to a toxic classroom environment – but Aizawa, much like Nedzu, isn’t worried about it. He follows UA policy to the letter, and he always strives to be fair – if not forgiving.

“You going to pick up a few more shifts as Eraserhead, then?” Nemuri asks. “Anyone else, I’d think vacation, but I know you’re congenitally incapable of downtime.”

Aizawa ignores the jab at his – non-existent – work-life balance. “I’ve been requested on a case,” he says. “International quirk trafficking. They want me full-time on the investigation team. I was going to turn it down, but it’s apparently a big deal to have been asked. It’s a joint task-force with foreign heroes.”

Hizashi wrinkles his nose. “Sounds like a bureaucratic nightmare,” he says. “Those joint efforts always end up tangled in red tape.”

That had largely been Aizawa’s perspective when he was first approached, a month ago. At the time, he still had half a class left – and they were working hard to make up for their deficit in numbers with pure stupidity – and it had been easy to tell the investigators he had too much on his plate. Now, Aizawa’s starting to feel that red tape might be a fair price for something to do.

“Don’t be so cynical,” Nemuri says, swatting Hizashi. “It sounds like a good opportunity.”

Aizawa shrugs. “We’ll see.”

The briefing room is fairly standard as these things go. Pale walls, rough carpet, tables arranged in rows with chairs pointing at a large screen. Aizawa is neither early nor late, but the room is only half-filled. He recognises a few underground heroes, and raises his eyebrows when he spots Hawks, off to the side, chatting with Abyssal, an underground hero who started out as a vigilante.

“A pretty good turnout, all things considered,” comes a voice from Aizawa’s left.

Aizawa turns. “Detective,” he nods.

“It’s been a while,” Tsukauchi says. He looks much the same as he had when they first met, all those years ago: like a salaryman who stumbled into a police precinct by mistake and stayed out of some sort of masochistic civil obligation. It’s an impression that Tsukauchi never quite manages to step out of – even when he’s competently sweeping rooms in full riot gear, he still looks a little like an accountant having a very dull day. “UA treating you well?”

Aizawa shrugs. “Can’t complain.”

“It’s good to have you onboard,” Tsukauchi says. “We’ve had issues getting heroes involved, even with the foreign cooperation angle.”

Aizawa privately thinks that Tsukauchi’s sales pitch must need some work if it relies entirely on the universal appeal of bureaucratic nonsense. “Joint ventures like this are rare.”

Tsukauchi smiles tiredly. “Hopefully a little less so, once we’re done here,” he says. “We’ve had some success cooperating with America, thanks to All Might, but this is one of the first times we’ve ever worked this closely with the British. It’s a big deal, even if the case is a little—”

“Okay, everyone,” comes a voice from the front. “Let’s take our seats.”

There’s a flurry of movement as everyone filters into chairs. “We’ll talk later,” Tsukauchi says quietly, before he shuffles across the room to a larger group of police officers – his team, most likely. Aizawa simply pulls out the chair closest to him and drops into it.

As more people sit down, the owner of the voice becomes visible. She’s plain-faced, with dark blue hair that’s pinned in a tight bun behind her head, and dressed in a navy pantsuit the exact same shade as her hair. She has an ID badge pinned to her lapel, but Aizawa can’t make out much more of it than the HPSC logo superimposed over it as a watermark.

“Good morning,” she says. “I’m Tanaka Mayumi, the lead investigator on this case. I work for the police, but I also hold a hero licence, hero name Vector. Potter-san, do you want to say anything?”

“Sure.”

Aizawa turns to the source of the voice, and feels his mind go blank. ‘Potter-san’ unfolds his body from where he’s been leaning against the wall, all long limbs and lithe grace. Aizawa watches it happen like he’s someone else, somewhere else. Suit and tie. Messy black hair. Vivid green eyes.

“I’m sure by now, you’ve heard that this is a cooperative investigation between Japan and the UK’s hero forces,” Harry says, with that same easy charm. “I represent the UK side of that equation. I’m Harry Potter, codename Fractal, but you can call me whatever combination of those names makes you most comfortable. I know I look young, but I have over a decade of experience in villain apprehension. I look forward to working with you all. For now, I’m in your care.”

He bows.

There’s some polite applause, but Aizawa can’t move. Harry rises out of his bow, and as he brings his head back up, his eyes catch.

Aizawa knows he’s been made.

Harry’s face twitches a little, eyes going wide with shock, and then—

He meets Aizawa’s eye and smiles.

Fuck.

[tbc??? maybe]

#kaputt wip weds #kaputt writes stuff #bnha fic #harry potter x bnha crossover #harry potter fic #this fic brought to you by: the greys anatomy one night stand trope #suicide mention cw #aizawa's actually my favourite bnha character #i know we're two for two on the bnha fic from this week and last week #i'll pick something else next week lol #you ever have a character that you like writing because they get to be inappropriate in a way you never permit yourself?#that was me writing nemuri she's so much fun #fic: one night stand au

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xothatnerdykid · 7 months

Text

say yes to heaven (say yes to me)

Aizawa finds out you have a crush on him. Fluffy, slightly suggestive Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x reader drabble. Slight age gap, teaching assistant!reader. 1,937 words.

"You know Y/N has a crush on you, right?"

You nearly choke at that, freezing up against the wall. You had been taking a phone call outside the faculty lounge when you overheard Yamada and Aizawa make their way inside, oblivious to your presence.

"I thought I told you to drop it already, Hizashi," Aizawa grunts.

"Wait, you know?" A third voice, Nemuri, asks incredulously, followed by a noise that sounds suspiciously like Aizawa elbowing Yamada mid-laugh.

You feel your face heat up, mortified at their discussion. Of course Aizawa knew you had feelings for him, you all but slap yourself. How could he not when you clam up and turn into a stuttering mess whenever he’s around?

You're well aware that plenty of the girls of Class 1-A (and even 1-B) harbor a not-so-secret crush on their sensei, and you're embarrassed to admit that you're not much better. You're always suddenly breathless and flustered to be near him.

Always a little too eager to help during training or classes. Always tripping over your words whenever he spoke to you. He must have tried to brush it off at first, but it just kept happening too many times for him to ignore.

"The only thing I know," Aizawa answers gruffly, "Is that this conversation is bordering on entirely inappropriate."

"What? Why? It's not like she's a student here or anything," Yamada retorts.

"She was, just a few years ago."

"Yeah, and now she's my teaching assistant," Nemuri counters.

But you can practically see Aizawa shake his head. "See? Same difference."

"Oh, lighten up! So you have a bit of an age gap—"

"I wouldn't call 8 years a bit of an age gap, Hizashi."

"Who cares about that? I think she could make you happy, Shouta, and you deserve to be happy."

“Now that I think about it," Nemuri adds. "You two would be good together. You need someone who can make you smile and stop being so serious all the time, and she..." She chuckles playfully. "For some unexpected reason, really likes that about you."

"Don't tell me you haven't at least thought about it?" Yamada teases. “I see the way you look at her, too, you know."

Nemuri squeals, "Just imagine, the two of you being all lovey-dovey. It'd be so cute!"

Your heart catches in your throat, but Aizawa is quick to interject.

"It doesn't matter. None of those things you said matter. To do anything about Y/N's feelings for me would be taking advantage of her."

"Fine," Nemuri huffs. "But the least you can do is talk to the poor girl about it. You can't keep giving her the cold shoulder forever."

There's a beat of silence before Aizawa dejectedly responds, "You’re right.” And you hear the door knob lock behind them.

______________________________________________________________

You pretend not to notice that Aizawa's awkwardly been standing behind you for almost five minutes now, hoping he'd eventually leave if you looked busy enough typing away on your laptop.

And he almost does. If it wasn't for Midnight and Mic, who you can see out of the corner of your eye, gesturing at him quietly but frantically to go on.

Your heart races when he clears his throat. "Uh, Y/N, do you have a minute?"

"Um..." You consider saying no but can't think of a reason fast enough. So you take your time closing your laptop instead, bracing yourself. "Sure."

You get up from your seat and turn to face him, but neither of you can meet the other's gaze, which just makes everything feel all the more mortifying.

"I'm aware of...Er, I mean...I apologize if I've seemed a little standoffish lately."

"You mean more than usual?" You smile weakly, trying for a bit of humor.

When you look up, you're surprised to see that his expression is serious but gentle. He almost smiles for a second before he seems to think better of it.

"It's been brought to my attention that you might…” He sighs, then starts over. “If I’ve ever given you the wrong impression, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention. I want you to know that I respect your feelings, but I think it’s best that we maintain a professional relationship."

“Of course! I-I never – You never – Um,” you swallow thickly, feeling your face burn up. “I agree.”

“Good. I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

Like it could get any worse? You bite back the retort.

You take a deep breath, attempting to regain your composure, and plaster on another half-hearted smile. “It’s fine. We can move past it.”

“Glad to hear that.”

_________________________________________________________________________

But you do not, in fact, move past it.

At least not for a few weeks.

In the days that follow, you find that you can't shake off the conversation. The way he looked at you, the vulnerability in his voice — it all lingers in your mind. The air between you feels heavy with unspoken words and a shared discomfort. The many days at work that follow are filled with lingering silences punctuated with stilted conversations, and a constant awareness of each other’s presence.

Even more embarrassing is the fact that everyone seems to know about your unrequited and inappropriate crush now, if they didn’t already. You notice Mic and Midnight's sympathetic glances, All-Might's whispered concerns.

Their attempts to act normal around you are agonizingly obvious, so you make it a habit to be the first one to leave every afternoon and spend most of your days alone at your table, with your eyes glued to your laptop screen or your nose buried in a mountain of paperwork.

So how, exactly, did you find yourself in this position? Alone with Shouta in his apartment and sitting in his lap with your fingers tangled in his hair and his tongue practically down your throat?

_________________________________________________________________________

Last thing you remembered, you were walking home when he suddenly fell into step beside you.

"Hi," you managed, giving him a weak smile. It must've been the first time you've ever been alone together since the talk.

"Mind if I join you?" He tilted his head to ask, his hands in his pockets and looking as tired as ever.

"Not at all," You tried to reply coolly, even though your heart just about dropped to the floor.

A familiar awkward silence fell upon both of you.

You bunch up your skirt in your fists, acutely aware of the way he’s looking at you. His usually stern face seemed almost…unsure. Finally, he broke the silence. "How have you been?”

“Oh, you know…” You waved your hand dismissively. “Just trying to get through each day.”

He nodded solemnly. “Listen, y/n, I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings last time we talked, because that’s the last thing I’d want.”

You shook your head. "No, not at all. If anything, I should be the one apologizing for the position I put you in."

"I just want you to know that...It's not that I don't..." He trailed off meaningfully, his eyes downcast. "I just don't think it would be appropriate or fair to you to pursue anything because...Your feelings for me…they’re not real.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What?”

"I understand that you might be confused by...that the dynamics of our relationship might have clouded your judgement and made me seem…”

“Stop.” You level him with a fierce gaze and he does. You do your best to sound firm despite the sting of his words. “It’s one thing for you not to return my feelings. That I can understand. But don’t patronize me by telling me what I do or don’t feel. It’s clear that you think otherwise, but I’m not a child, Shouta.”

Aizawa, surprised by the intensity in your voice, leaned back slightly. He doesn't say anything, which gives you the courage to speak your mind, telling him off before you can think better of it.

“I don’t like you just because you’re older than me or I see you as some sort of authority figure. I like you because you care a lot but pretend you don’t. And it makes me want to get to know you more. I admire your dedication and hard work at being a hero and a teacher here.”

He looked at you thoughtfully for a few moments, then nodded, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he absorbed your words. “You're right. I shouldn't have assumed or tried to define your feelings for you. I apologize."

"Thank you."

"And as long as we’re sharing…” He rolled his sleeves up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I don’t think you’re a child, you know. I think you’re intelligent and perfectly competent. In fact, I think you're amazing."

The irritation and hurt you felt just moments ago was quickly chased away by the warmth that spread within you at his surprising admission.

He brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I was hesitant because I didn't want to take advantage of you, given our age gap—"

"It doesn't bother me," you said with newfound confidence, and he couldn't help but chuckle at your boldness.

"But maybe... I've been too cautious."

You tilted your head, smiling up at him softly, sweetly, like you used to. "What do you mean?" You asked even though you already knew, you just wanted to hear him say it.

He ran a hand through his hair again, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous habit, you’ve noticed. "I mean, perhaps I've been so focused on maintaining professional boundaries that it's made me overlook the possibility of a genuine connection between us."

You bit the inside of your cheeks to keep from smiling any wider. "Are you saying...?"

He nodded, a hint of a blush tinting his face. "Would you consider having dinner with me tomorrow?"

_________________________________________________________________________

Fast forward to now, hours after dinner and one glass of wine too many, and you’ve somehow managed to muster up the courage to kiss him good night.

It catches him by surprise, but once he leans into it, he doesn’t let you pull away. He responds with an almost bruising eagerness, kissing you again, and again, and again, until you find yourself pressed up against the door of his apartment.

He jams his keys into the doorknob, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

But instead of swinging the door open like you expected, he puts his hand up against it instead, next to your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” he says breathlessly, his eyes screwed shut.

You draw a steadying breath of your own. “Why not?”

“Because,” he drawls in that frustratingly raspy voice of his. The one so low and deep you could practically feel it vibrating against your own chest, echoing off the walls inside of you. “You do something to me…to my self-control…”

You swallow thickly. “Do I?”

He nods.

“Good.” You link your hands around his nape, pulling at some of the hair there, and smile against the crook of his neck. “Then the feeling’s mutual.”

He puts his hands on your waist, gingerly, cautiously. “Doesn’t make it rational.”

You kiss his jaw. ”Why does it need to be rational?” And then his cheek. ”We’re both adults.” And then gently bite his ear, whispering, “Why can’t we let ourselves want what we want?”

“And are you sure…” He pulls away a little, his eyes still closed and his eyebrows furrowed. “This is what you want?” He finally opens his eyes to search yours, and his are so smoky and dark you feel as though you're falling through the night sky.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, captivated by the intensity in his gaze.

"Yeah," you answer, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. "I'm sure."

His smirk is the last thing you see before your eyelids flutter closed and his lips are on yours again.

He doesn’t waste another moment.

#aizawa shouta #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #amaya writes #aizawa sensei #eraserhead #aizawa imagine #aizawa shouta imagine #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x y/n #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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