#until hizashi remembers that no

[lethxia]

erasermic snippet, post-patrol anxiety

[dira333]

Hurting together - Aizawa x Reader

mentions of Chronic pain, requested by @alienaiver I hope this is in any way what you've imagined.

“Nervous?” Shouta asks after a full 120 seconds of your leg bouncing without stopping.

“Huh?! Oh, oh, I’m sorry!” You scramble to a halt, arm resting on your leg to keep it in place. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stop now. But if you wanna talk about it, I heard that helps.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t wanna … I don’t wanna annoy anyone,” you mutter, eyes flickering from left to right.

“Do you wanna hear my story then?” He asks, not because it’s something he likes sharing, but you’re cute and what’s the alternative? Staring at the wall until he gets called in.

“Oh, if you… if you don’t mind?”

He huffs out a breath. “Well, apparently it’s not healthy to break a bone every single week.”

“Oh!” Your eyes grow huge. “Every single week? Wait, is it the same bone.”

“No,” he snorts softly, “At least then I’d have a better story. I’m a pro Hero, I just happen to get into fights.”

“And what’s your Hero Name? Fragile Bone?”

It takes him a second to recognize the joke, snorting loudly when he does. You’re snappy, now that the anxiety fades.

“No, it’s uh… Eraser Head.” He waits a second for you to recognize him, the star-struckness to hit. But it doesn’t. Instead, you cock your head to the side and eye him thoroughly. 

“Interesting,” you say, “I remember an Interview you were forced to give a few years back. Uh, I think there was a streaker at the Sports Festival?”

He laughs. “Good Memory. Yeah, that was one of our students. He didn’t have his Quirk under Control back then.”

“And you’ve got a broken bone now? Or is this just a check-up?”

“Bloodwork.”

“Yikes,” you pull a face, “me too. It’s the worst.”

“It is,” he agrees, dares to ask before he can lose his courage again. “Want me to hold your hand through the process?”

And it’s smooth, smoother than he’s ever been able to - maybe the absence of his friends does benefit his ability to flirt - and he might even get his hopes up for a second there - until your face falls.

“That’s really tempting, you know, but I… uh… my hands are hurting. That’s why I’m here, you know, to figure out why they’re hurting like this. So hand-holding is kinda a no-go.”

“Oh, I understand,” the dejection must be audible in his voice because you reach out for him, though you don’t take hold.

“But if you want,” you offer, voice a little breathless, “you could… uh… put your hand on my shoulder? It might look weird, but-”

“I’ve seen weirder things,” he offers and your smile lights up the room.

-

“Oh, I didn’t know you were coming in together,” Doc Oc greets him and for a moment he is paralyzed, frozen between two different emotions. Surprise, because Doc OC’s obviously familiar with you and he’s got the worst memory when it comes to names. Embarrassment, because it’s usually not the best thing if a Doctor remembers you by name, let alone this one.

“Ah,” you smile, “We met in the waiting room. Bloodwork, you now. It’s easier if it’s done together.”

“That I can agree with. Now, who wants to go first?”

-x-

“Now, I believe you owe me something,” Recovery Girl announces one afternoon, a big smile cutting into her wrinkly face. “What’s her name?”

“Huh?” Shouta had been busy reading through this week's assignment, deciphering the texts. Denki’s Handwriting almost requires a PHD in decoding.

“Doc Oc and I have been friends for quite some time. One would call us even… very close… if you know what I mean. He said you brought in lovely company.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…” He can’t help but blush at her tone. Too much information.

“Well, are you going to ask her out? You cannot count this as your first date, surely? A fancy Dinner is a must.”

“A fancy Dinner is a must for whom?” Hizashi’s leaning around the door and Shouta groans. Of all people to overhear this.

“Shouta’s girlfriend.”

“Shouta has a girlfriend? Shouta, my man, why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you love me anymore? Your best friend?”

He crawls further into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. Those assignments can wait, if he can fall in to a coma first, he-

-x-

“So?” Rumi leans against your Desk. “Did he call you?”

“Not yet,” you’re chewing on your lower lip, “But he’s probably busy.”

“Busy my ass,” she snorts angrily. “You’re a catch. If he doesn’t get a groove on you’re gone. He should know that.”

You level your friend - and boss - with a glare. “I’ve been single for a year.”

“Which he doesn’t know,” she sings. “But on another note, have you’ve gotten the results from your bloodwork? You know we only need that so we can get started on your hands-free Desktop.”

“Why do you sound more excited about this than I am?”

“Because you’re afraid of change and I am not. Just think, your hands will finally get to rest!”

“Yay,” you wave them around half-heartedly when your phone pings.

Rumi’s already grabbing it from your desk, always faster than you. “Oh, it’s your guy.” She hands it back. “Not looking.”

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” you joke and open the short text only to gasp.

“He’s asking me out.”

“Great, so he’s not an idiot. Confirm.”

“No, no, he’s asking me out for a date tonight. You know how bad my legs have been today, I can’t show up with a cane.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you drag out, “the last time I did that there was no second date.”

“And you think he’s that shallow?”

“I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Tell him you can’t tonight because you’re working late. Ask him if he’s able to reschedule for tomorrow or Friday.”

You hesitate, but do as you’re told.

“And now,” she grabs your bag as soon as you put your phone down, “you get your cute ass home and rest. I want you as fit as you can be tomorrow so you can enjoy that date.”

“But work-”

“Work is like my ex - it will always wait for you.”

-x-

“Fuck,” Shouta groans, head on his arms. The pain is strong today.

“You… uh… you good?” He hears a familiar voice from the door. Shit, he forgot about training with Hitoshi.

“Fantastic,” he grinds through his teeth though he does not dare to lift his head. Lunch was decent, but he doesn’t want to taste it again.

“Do you need Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m going to be fine. Can you get me my painkillers from my bag? I would, but moving-”

“Sure, sure.” He can hear rustling and then a pill is dropped into his outstretched palm.

Slowly, carefully, he drags his arm back to pop it into his mouth, swallows it dry. He’s got loads of practice.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Uh, if you say so.”

-

He’s got a black eye.

He’s got a black eye and a date in about thirty minutes and the painkillers are making him particularly loopy today.

Hitoshi wouldn’t have been able to hit him in the face if his reaction time hadn’t been so slow. He’s lucky no bone is broken.

Something tells him that it would be better to reschedule, but wouldn’t that make him look disinterested when he’s not?

-

“Mew.” 

Shouta turns to the sound, surprised to see a black cat looking up at him. There’s a hedge there, and he bends down to pet the animal. 

“You’re loud, huh?” He comments on the purring, taking a seat on the ground when his knees turn a little wobbly. He really is getting older. 

The cat disappears into the hedge and he holds out a hand, making little sounds to lure her back out.

Just as he can spot the green eyes blinking back at him, a banknote is dropped into his hand.

“Here,” a voice says, “It’s cold out.”

Shouta freezes, only to look up into your face.

“Uh,” he makes, suddenly envious of Kaminari when he cooks his brain. 

“I didn’t mean-” you say just as he exclaims loudly: “There’s a cat.”

“Where?” You ask, peering into the hedge. “I love cats.”

-x-

“This was nice,” you tell him after Dinner, the episode with the Cat now something you can laugh about. “Would you like to do it again sometimes?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly, “I’m sorry if I was a little loopy today. I took… uh, I forgot to take a nap.”

“Ah,” you smile, “You’re getting old too? If I don’t get my usual lunch nap I’m not so nice to be around.”

Shouta laughs. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. You’re very nice to be around.”

“You think so?” You ask, heart skipping a beat when he nods.

“How are your hands?” He looks down at them, “Can I hold them? Or do they still hurt?”

“If you don’t squeeze them I should be fine,” you say, praying that it’s the truth.

It is a little uncomfortable, if you were to tell the truth, but he’s gentle and your heart blooms at the implications.

If only you could put this moment in a jar, keep it for all the days where it’s hard to get up.

 -

“So?” Rumi leans over your desk, grinning wide. “Gimme the scoop.”

“We went out, it was amazing, I don’t know when I’m going to see him again.”

“That’s not the scoop, that’s a short summary. I want every detail. Also, what does it mean you don’t know when you-”

The ringtone of your phone cuts her off. You take a peak only to gasp.

“It’s him. He’s calling.”

“Well, pick up. I’ll come back as soon as you’re finished. And I want all the details.”

-

It’s hard to find time for another date.

Shouta works two fulltime jobs and you’re overwhelmed with just one.

But he calls or texts every day, sending you pics of cats whenever he’s out on patrol.

It’s nice, but it could be nicer.

When he asks what you’re doing and you’re in bed, pain holding you down, you cannot tell him the truth. Because he doesn’t know the truth. And telling him over the phone seems insensitive.

Sometimes he sounds pretty loopy when he calls and you wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. But when you ask him about it he evades the question so masterfully, that you only remember it hours after the call.

“I think I have to come clean,” you tell Rumi one day during lunch, your hands in thick compression gloves to combat the pain. “This season is hitting me hard and I cannot postpone our next date again just because I cannot go anywhere without a cane.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well. From what you’ve told me about him he seems very nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh,”so nice I don’t want to lose him.”

-x-

Of all the moments for a migraine to hit, this has to be the worst. 

Okay, maybe the second worst, because he’s not currently fighting someone.

But he’s been pressing his temple against the fridge doors of this Konbini for half an hour now, clearly unsettling the other shoppers, and his painkillers are far, far away in his car’s glove compartment.

Every time he thinks he’s got it now, turning away from the coldness has his lunch rise up in his throat.

“Shouta?” A familiar voice asks and the ice seeps into his veins. It’s you.

“No, I’m not Shouta. You must mistake me for someone else.”

“You’re wearing a nametag. Backward, but you’re wearing it.”

He sighs. “Can you just pretend you’re not seeing me?”

“I could, but why?”

“This is embarrassing.”

“I mistook you for a homeless man, I think we’ve already reached top embarrassment.”

“I’m having a Migraine.”

“See,” he can hear the encouragement in your voice, knows exactly how your mouth curls at the words even if he cannot see it. “That’s very low on the embarrassment list. Do you need a painkiller?”

“Yeah, but they’re in my car.”

“What are you using.”

“I doubt you have that. You can only get it via prescription.”

Shouta names it, hears you chuckle.

“Oh, you bet I got that. One pill is enough, right?”

“Right.” He can hear rustling before a pill is pressed into his hands. He swallows it dry. 

“It will take me a minute to come to my senses.”

“No worry at all. I can stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I want to. By the way… the Bloodwork… was that about your Migraine?”

“Yeah,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “And other stuff.”

“Mhm.” Some more rustling.

“How did you get those pills by the way? You don’t work in a pharmacy, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t deal drugs if that’s what you’re asking.” You laugh, but it tapes off awkwardly. “I… I suffer from chronic pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh again, but you don’t sound amused. “Yeah, me too.”

Silence settles between them. Slowly, the pain in his head eases into something manageable and he peels himself away from the cool glass to look at you.

You’re staring at the ground, a cane in your hands. 

“I’m going to be pretty loopy for the rest of the day,” he tells you, lump in his throat, “But do you wanna grab a coffee after this?”

The surprise in your eyes tells you what he’d already assumed. You’re not used to people accepting your condition as something that just is. 

“Might ask you some questions as soon as my head works properly again,” he adds like a threat, “but for now I’d just like to look at you. You’re really pretty.”

“You’re really loopy,” you giggle.

“Mhm, it’s going to get even worse, sugardrop.” His hand finds your elbow, careful to avoid your hands and you knock your head lightly against his shoulder.

You’re probably a weird-looking couple to the outside world, but he’s never cared much about that anyway.

[mooonpiess]

hc time 😏

i hc that hizashi Can Not sleep in. An off day in the Yamada-Aizawa household is rare on its own, but juggling his 937393728 jobs and 2 kids and 3 cats… hizashi never really… rests.

i think he is always on high alert, which makes him a light sleeper.

it seems that any noise in the house leads to him being up and coherent.

so they make it their Mission to let hizashi sleep as much as possible on his next off day

they tiptoe around the house

the tv is practically on mute

theyve been shushing each other

until they remembered something.

Hizashi is Deaf.

then it dawned on shouta. anytime his husband was abruptly awaken, it was the lights, never the noise.

so they made it their NEW mission;

keep the lights off while hizashi has a lie in

(and they felt dumb the rest of the day)

[circledotdestroy]

I was thinking about how Dr. Garaki was targeting Aizawa to turn into a Nomu when he was younger and it made me think of how Aizawa would haunt you if you two were friends during HS. (This is lowkey an AU idea for my fic Retrospective but I didn’t get nearly enough done to DESERVE writing it)

When Aizawa died, a part of you did too. The innocence and plausible deniability of the heavily propagandized hero society was stripped, leaving little behind. Before “hero” and “villain” were just characters. Big, bad villain has their fun causing trouble, then you, the hero stops them. Growing up you never held no genuine animosity toward “villains”, they were just doing what their part entailed at the end of the day.

That's what you remembered as you stood in the wake of destruction. Rubble became the monument of your friend’s last day on Earth. In mere seconds, you were smacked with a lifetime of regrets. The nerve you had-- equating cold reality with story books. It was stupid. You were so stupid... and arrogant.

You didn't take your job seriously as you should have, and now Eraserhead's career ended before it began. Aizawa Shouta will never live to see greatness like his name once promised.

From then on, it took time. A lot of time before Oboro managed to pull what remained of the group together. You all were functional hero-hopefuls again. Even if standing on the rooftop makes you lose your appetite; and looking at the tree you and Shouta trained by makes the world blur and echo oddly.

One time you looked at the tree and hadn't gained awareness until all of you became seasoned pros. Some time after that, Nemuri decided to teach the next generation of heroes. It didn’t take much convincing for Oboro and Hizashi to join in. You on the other hand, got tricked and was dragged by the others, kicking and screaming. Those three were insane, you thought. What business did you have teaching children?

It was cruel.

All of it.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

_ "I was so excited today when dad told me you were coming!" little Eri squeals enthusiastically while holding your hand and jumping with every word.

_ "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, we'll have lots of fun right?" you respond with the same level of excitement before picking her up in your arms and twirling her around as lively giggles escaped you both.

_ "Alright don't move, stay like that for a moment." your boyfriend appears with his camera in hand, ready to snap yet another photo of the two of you.

It's a habit of his, capturing moments like this to keep as a memory, and printing them out to frame, and you've grown so used to it that sometimes you strike a pose without waiting for him to ask.

_ "Good job girls, you look beautiful," he smiles dotingly before tucking his camera away and joining you, "dinner is ready." he announces with a smile before planting a soft kiss on his daughter's cheek, and another on your lips, lingering a bit until hearing Eri's playful protests.

You can never explain or understand how, but moments like this, when you're together with them, talking, laughing, playing, without a care in the world, moments like this are what makes you the happiest, so if heaven ever existed, then this is yours.

_ "This tastes so good Shouta, you did wonderful." your eyes widen in surprise as you take your first bite.

_ "That's right dad! Good job." little Eri chimes in with an adorable little giggle lacing her words.

This is shaping up to be a wonderful evening that both you and your boyfriend desperatly needed, especially after the hell you've been in for weeks..

You needn't think of that right now, you will at least have a little peace of mind tonight.

The doorbell suddenly rings once, one loud ding that interrupts your happy chattering and gets you all snapping your heads up in surprise.

_ "I'll see who it is." your boyfriend announces with a smile before setting down his half empty glass of water and standing up to do just that.

Your eyes shift to little Eri who seems uninterested in the newcomer as she carried on with her meal, unlike you who are now wondering who it might be.

It's possible that this is one of his friends, he did take the day off -as did you- to spend it whole with both Eri and yourself, so maybe something happened at work that he needed to learn about.

_ "Oh hello."

That voice, it's strange, yet so familiar, who does it belong to? If only you had the guts to look up and see who's looming over you right now.

_ "So we meet again, flower girl."

There it is, the same condescending tone that's been hunting you for weeks, you know whose it is, but refuse to believe it.

_ "That's enough Emi!"

Only now did you finally lift your head up to see the furious look in your boyfriend's eyes as he glared at the same beautiful woman who visited you a few weeks ago, and whom you wished to never see again.

_ "H.. hi, nice to see you again." you hurriedly stand up and bow to the woman who doesn't reciprocate the gesture.

Her name catches your attention though, Emi.. you could swear you've heard it before, but can't for the life of you remember anything about it.

Aizawa pushes his way between the two of you and gently holds your hands, the frightening expression of earlier is now replaced with a soft one , and it makes you feel secure despite the situation, "would you please take Eri to her room? I'll explain everything later."

You do not question him, and simply nod in approval before extending your hand to a confused Eri, whose innocent eyes kept traveling between the three adults surrounding her..

_ "Aren't you going to ask?" you hear the smirk in her question even with your back facing them both, but you keep a steady step towards Eri's room because you know you weren't the one meant to respond.

Aizawa says nothing too, not before making sure you've disappeared behind Eri's door, and then you hear it:

_ "You tracked her down? What is it you want exactly?" his voice reaches you clearly, even though you aren't in the same room as them anymore.

He sounds furious and it's scary, where did your gentle boyfriend disappear? There is obviously so much you don't know about their past, and the realization is making you feel like a total stranger.

_ "You know exactly what I want so don't play dumb with me! You went ahead and got yourself a little plaything after I entrusted you with our daughter! How could you expose her to that?"

Of course, it's Eri's mother, that's why her name sounded familiar, it's because Shouta had told you about her before.

_ "What's going on? What does that woman want with dad?" Eri's sweet and worried voice brings you back to reality, it isn't the time for self-pity, because this clueless little girl who -by the looks of it- is unaware that she was in the presence of her mother only moments ago, is in need of some reassurance right now, and it's your job to provide.

_ "Oh this is just a grown-ups discussion, it's nothing to worry about sweetie I promise," you bend down to her level and smile through your lie before carrying on, "how about we watch a few more episodes of your favorite show? We can do it on my phone."

_ "Really?! Yes let's do it!" her attention immediately shifts towards the new topic as she starts jumping in excitement, and her innocence melts your heart.

You tuck her in bed and take a seat at the edge of it before handing her your phone and connecting it to her headset, she doesn't need to hear any of the arguments outside, you on the other hand, are understandably restless, but still keep your calm demeanor in front of her..

_ "You can see her whenever you want, I already told you this, but I will never give her up." he sounds more hurt than upset, and it breaks your heart to pieces.

_ "I just.. I don't want to lose either one of you again, Shouta please, can't you give me another chance? If not for me, then at least for our daughter's sake."

Another chance..

Her words felt like acid poured in your ears, and you cannot bring yourself to hear his response.

You press your hands to your ears as your mind turned into a tangled mess, what if he says yes? It would be perfect for all of them actually, especially for little Eri who would finally have her mom around like she deserves, but where would that leave you?

You glance at the sweet girl leaning her head on your shoulder, and wonder if it's your place to be in her room right now when her mother isn't, maybe it was never your place to begin with, you have been longing for somewhere to belong and someone to love until you met him, and it felt perfect, too good to be true in fact, but maybe that's just what it is.. too good to be true.

If there is a way for them to be happy together, then what gives you the right to selfishly take it away?

_ "Hey, did you hear me?" a gentle tap on your arm brings you to your senses, and it's him, smiling sweetly like he always does, but for some reason, this same smile that usually warms up your heart, is now filling you with nothing but dread.

_ "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't see you walk in," you force out a chuckle and turn to check on Eri, only to find her already deep in slumber, "oh look, she's already asleep."

How long have you been out of it anyway? Apparently long enough for Eri to doze off and for your boyfriend to come in unnoticed.

_ "She is," his gaze lingers on the little angel's sprawled frame before shifting to you, "listen, I'm sorry about what happened out there, it's.."

_ "What? No it was nothing, come on," you avoid his eyes and fix Eri's pillow before planting a gentle peck on her temple and taking your phone back, "I just hope everything goes well, so just do whatever's good for Eri."

He doesn't reply, a blank expression on his face as he watches you approaching, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

You grab onto his shirt and lean closer to capture his lips, and he freezes for a second before melting into the kiss..

_ "Shouta, I'll be here for as long as you'll have me." you had to say those words, even if you're certain that your time together is nearing its end, you -at least- want him to know how much he means to you.

He smiles wearily as his eyes bored into yours, he seems exhausted and clearly reluctant to talk so you don't push it, and instead prepare to leave so he would have a chance to think things over, but he stops you in your tracks with a pleading look on his face before leaning his head on your shoulder.

_ "Please don't go.." is what he heavily breathes out while clutching onto your arms.

Of course you'll stay and be the pillar he desperatly needs, because who knows, maybe this would be the last time you'll have the chance..

To be continued..

[soc69]

Okay, so I’ve somehow fallen back into my eraser mic family addiction so here are some back stories that I’ve recently been theorising about and can’t let go of:

(Also I fully intend to make another post about specific Headcannons of how each of their dynamics with one and other work. This is pretty much entirely for my own enjoyment but hopefully other people will get something out of this too)

Yamaha Hizashi:

I’m pretty sure it’s canon that when mic was born he deafened both his mother and the midwife so I have a bit of a dark background headcanon for him based on this.

Basically, I think that mic’s mother tried really hard to raise him for a few years but I don’t think his dad was ever really in the picture (or if he was he left pretty early on) so it was just a newly deafened young women dealing with a bit of postpartum depression and a huge law suit from the doctor who delivered mic for his loss of hearing. She couldn’t work and was trying to get by on subsidy and disability checks until, eventually, she just couldn’t take it any more and handed him over to the state when he was about 3 or 4. He doesn’t remember much about his early years and luckily he was only in the system bouncing around different foster homes for a year or so until he got adopted by his moms who loved him so hard and taught him how to see the best in people. He has never once questioned their roles as his real parents and credits them with his becoming a hero for giving him the best life they could.

That being said, he grew up knowing the story behind him being placed in the system and never once held it against his birth mother either. When he was a teenager, she saw him in the UA sports festival and decided to reach out. Despite it feeling slightly awkward for hizashi at the start and his mother battling feelings of guilt when she first met him, they got past that and these days they meet up once or twice a month to check in on one another. Nowadays, mic just counts himself as really lucky to have not one, not two, but three moms in his life who all care about him and want to do what they can for him and his family.

As mic gets older, the early reckless use of his quirk as a crying kid and pre-support-gear-hero-wannabe starts catching up to him and he begins to loose his hearing. By the time he’s in UA he’s already considered hard of hearing and these days he can’t hear much of anything without hearing aids. Of course, Aizawa learned sign language at the same time hizashi did when he was first warned that he might go deaf one day and they’ve been teaching eri since she moved in with them. Hitoshi, however, already knew sign, as I will get into next.

Shinsou Hitoshi:

Soooo, we all know how fond this fandom is of giving Hitoshi the most tragic story ever and I’ve really struggled to break that cycle, so here we go.

I headcannon that Hitoshi’s mom died when he was very young, maybe even in child birth, and his father was absolutely heartbroken by this. He really did his best with Hitoshi but he was so much like the love of his life in so many ways that he could hardly look at him without wanting to sob. They had the same hair, eyes, smile - everything in Hitoshi was inherited from his mother and when his quirk manifested it was, once again, directly inherited from her.

I think, contrary to popular belief, Hitoshi’s dad didn’t see this as a curse. He loved his wife and everything about her, including her quirk, but it was just so painful for him to see it when he couldn’t see her. He turned to some less than healthy coping mechanism and, after a DUI, realised that he needed to get his life back on track if he was ever going to do right by his son.

He ended up relinquishing some of his custody to the state when Hitoshi was around 6 but retained visitation rights and would come and see Hitoshi every weekend, giving updates about his job search and making promises that he could come home soon. However, the visits gradually became fewer and further between until one day, after he had taken Hitoshi out for what he, at the time, considered the best day of his life, his social worker delivered the message that he had emigrated to US and wouldn’t be coming back. He left Hitoshi a letter apologising for not being a good enough man to take care of him and truly believing this was for the best. Hitoshi held onto that letter until he was 13 when, in a fit of rage after being fostered by the worst family yet, he tore it to pieces. Sometimes he still remembers the letter and cries that he doesn’t have it anymore because for the longest time it was the only evidence he had that someone had loved him. Nowadays though when he feels like this he knows he has three people waiting to prove that’s not the case anymore.

Since Hitoshi had been un-fosterable for the first couple of years in the group home, what with his dad still being in the picture, he basically wasted what are affectionately termed the “cute years” in the system, meaning that, as a preteen, he was pretty undesirable to potentially families. He bounced around different group homes and foster families that took in troubled youths since most people were scared of his quirk and didn’t take kindly to him trying to talk to them. He ended up learning sign language form a deaf kid in one of the homes he was in and used that to communicate to most adults so as not to scare them out of taking care of him to the point that it was put in his file that he had selective mutism.

When Hitoshi got into UA and started training with aizawa, aizawa noticed that Hitoshi was a little malnourished and seemed more skittish than the average teen ought to be. He took it upon himself to start taking him out for meals after their training and keeping a close eye on any signs or abuse or neglect in the future. By this point Hitoshi was living in a group home as it was the closest place to UA and, although there was no current abuse happening, Hitoshi had experienced some maltreatment in the past that made him cautious around authority figures and it was still all too easy for him to accidentally be neglected in such an anonymous home life.

Taking Hitoshi out for meals after training eventually turned into inviting him back to his house for meals which turned into quality family bonding for the entire erasermic clan. Eri starting calling Hitoshi ‘toshi-nii’ and asking where he was whenever aizawa came home alone after the first month, hizashi started insisting he stay the night whenever he was there past 6pm, and shouta subtly converted their home office into shinsous private bedroom by adding a fouton, removing one of the desks, and gradually clearing the bookcases so Hitoshi wouldn’t notice the added effort.

Pretty early on hizashi and shouta have a conversation about how much they both want Hitoshi to join their family but they’re equally scared of overwhelming him or putting pressure in him to say yes to them because they’re his teachers so they agree to wait for the right time. The right time eventually comes during a breakdown after Hitoshi has a nightmare when he’s staying over about his birth father. When he wakes up he goes looking for his letter before he remembers he doesn’t have it anymore and cries to erasermic that he’s all alone. It’s then that they tell him how much they want him to join their family. Cue the entire family ugly sobbing.

Aizawa Shouta:

I actually headcannon Aizawa as being the only one with a relatively trauma free upbringing. He’s just a grouch by choice.

He was, however, raised entirely by women. His dad left when he was about three so it’s been just him, his mom, and his two older sisters ever since. The oldest is 6 years older than him and the middle is 4 years older than him so he really is the baby of the family and they all treat him as such. He pretends to hate it but when they all show up for him after he gets banged up in hero work and fret over him he secretly loves the attention and it means the world to him every time they make a trip to see him.

His mother is an incredibly sarcastic women and it’s where he gets all his sass but she’s also very no nonsense and will put anyone in their place if they dare to talk bad about her family. His oldest sister is a lot like him but his middle is criminally similar to hizashi so they get along like a house on fire. That being said, everyone in his family adores hizashi and they had bets on when the two would finally confess their love for each other ever since shouta brought him and oboro over in their first year for a group project. (What they don’t know is that oboro was the one who snuck off downstairs that day and started the betting pool). When it come to eri and shinsou however, my god, ‘adore’ is not a big enough word. They would all die for those children and make sure to visit as often as possible.

Eri:

So we all kinda know eri’s history already so I’m just gonna talk about how she responded to each of her new family members.

So obviously she immediately latches onto Aizawa as her hero and Aizawa adores her. He is biologically incapable of ever saying no to her (not that she really asks for much) and spoils her rotten, so, within a few weeks of moving in she has a new everything in every color. But that much we know already so onto mic.

I think it takes her a while to get used to hizashi as she’s instinctively very cautious around new people so, as much as it breaks mics heart, he has to spend the first couple of weeks of eris adjustment period staying with nemuri and visiting every other day until she’s more comfortable around him. The change happens when they’re having a bonding day at home and eri takes a tumble and nearly falls down the stairs from the top of the landing. On instinct, mic gets between her and the stairs and pushes her back up to safety but ends up falling down the stairs in her place. Eri immediately runs down to check on him apologising profusely and is absolutely terrified of how he’s going to react but mic just immediately pulls her into a hug and starts asking if she’s okay saying he was terrified she might of been hurt and from that point on eri realised that this man would never hurt her and so when he goes to leave that night she asks him to stay instead and he’s never spent the night at nemuris since.

As we’ve already established, she very quickly accepts Hitoshi as her brother but the exact moment it happens isn’t as easily pinpointed as it is with mic. One day she was shy and reserved around him and the next she was choosing to sit closest to him over everyone else on movie nights. It was such a seemless transition that no one even really noticed (except Hitoshi of course who clocked the change immediately and had no idea what to do with the fact that this little angel wanted him as a brother and definitely went to bed and cried about it the first time she chose to sit with him instead of her dads).

[paper--moons]

Flip!Yamada and Regressor!Aizawa Headcanons

(with CG!Inui)

Before the war, things weren't perfect, but they had a handle on them. Shouta could regress as needed with Hizashi keeping an eye on him, or they could regress together on the rarer occasions that Hizashi also felt small with Nemuri dropping in to keep an eye on both boys. After the war though, when everything has gone to hell? Both are so broken; there's no way around it. There are so many pieces to pick up, perhaps even too many for them to do alone. They have lost the people closest to them and things are different not just on a personal level, but on an institutional scale as well as society itself rebuilds. Big changes are happening all around them, and in spite of having one another it is still difficult to move forwards with the pain that is still quite raw. New wounds and old wounds alike are equally tender, and neither Shouta nor Hizashi feel like they have enough time to pour into the other like they want. Of course this doesn't stop them from trying, but it doesn't halt the grief and loss that seems ever-present in the quiet chaos of the post-war world. There is also a noticeable shift in their regression dynamic as well, with Hizashi needing more time being smaller than he did before. His age seems to drop closer to Shouta's too, another difference that presents challenges when more often than not one's regression now triggers the other's. Though Hizashi is clearly fighting slipping so small—Shouta cannot help but remember how during the...could it even be called an altercation? with Kurogiri that Hizashi had cried, how he had denied he was crying because he was supposed to be a grown man. Shouta didn't realize to the full extent that Hizashi was hurting, but that moment sits with him heavily long after it happens. So heavily, in fact, that Shouta makes a big decision about something that neither of them necessarily like but almost definitely need.

It isn't exactly couple's therapy. Not in the traditional sense, since they aren't having difficulties in their romantic relationship, at least nothing outside of what is healthy. More like...joint counseling concerning their regression and past traumas made fresh again. Doing it together will hold them accountable enough that they actually have to go, or so Shouta had claimed with a sigh. Hizashi is annoyed by such a betrayal, but Shouta assures him he's just as annoyed with himself for not being able to help more. Neither of them are big fans of the concept of getting a third party involved (unless that third party is their big sis, but she isn't around anymore and neither of them want to acknowledge that yet). So they sit impatiently and wait outside of Hound Dog's office despite not wanting to be there, bickering like the children they so often feel like and kicking each other's feet as they argue (which Shouta says is no fair, until Hizashi kicks his metal foot by mistake and winces). It is about that time that Ryou comes to get them, looking utterly unimpressed with their "game" and ushering them into his office. He doesn't exactly specialize in adults, but he cares about their mental health (and it's clear enough that these two fall within his usual domain). The initial session is something that he is prepared for being slow-going based on the short talk he had with Shouta beforehand. It turns out that it's like pulling teeth though—Shouta isn't talkative at the best of times but seems to be trying, his responses coming out awkward yet blunt, whereas Hizashi who is well-known for his loud mouth is suddenly tight-lipped and pouting as he looks pointedly out the window. To call it hesitancy would be generous, as it is closer to outright stubbornness. It's only when Shouta starts struggling with his own answers that Hizashi interjects, making it clear that in order to get him to open up he needs to feel like he is helping someone other than himself.

They work through a few sessions just discussing their regression before Ryou asks if they might allow him to interact with their smaller sides. Not that there haven't been close encounters of the baby kind in the teacher's lounge and dorms before by accident, but for what they are asking of him he needs a more prolonged interaction. Which leads to them making arrangements for aiming to have a regression day in a week's time. A week should be long enough to get used to the idea, but talking about regression is one thing and doing it is another thing entirely. Not that they haven't been middlespacing around Ryou since day one, but this is different. It's difficult . Neither of them are too keen on the idea at first, despite knowing it is something they need to do. It's scary. Letting someone else into that private little world is always nerve-wracking. So maybe they do a bit of scheming. Only one of them will regress and test the waters. It's the perfect plan! Hizashi of course voluntells Shouta that he can be the one to slip all the way first since this whole situation was his idea to begin with. The "suggestion" is punctuated by him sticking his tongue out in a childish fit of pique; Shouta only rolls his eye at the display, but agrees nonetheless. And as planned, the next time they arrive at Ryou's office Shouta is noticeably small, hiding behind Hizashi shyly even as their hands remained clasped together. Like Hizashi, he finds it all too easy—too tempting—to slip small these days. Unlike Hizashi however, his regression itself seems largely unchanged. He still hovers somewhere around two, occupying a nebulous toddlerspace that often dips into babyspace. Like a little spark of electricity, a zap of baby hits them both at the same time. They can't help but notice how nice the space is set up just for them, how Ryou made sure to dress casually in anticipation for tiny tykes that might find his hero costume too much. And Hizashi feels his resolve waver as they enter the office.

Ryou shouldn't really be surprised that they went with a split approach in spite of what they discussed, though he does wish that they had just told him ahead of time. Still, he doesn't give up hope that Hizashi will ease into it. So he is sure to remain patient, and instead encourages Shouta to show him the little backpack of stuff he brought while they give Hizashi a chance to settle in. The contents are about what he expected: a couple of pacifiers, some coloring books, a box of jumbo crayons, and the boy's favorite stuffie. It doesn't go past his notice how Hizashi reacts when something of his is pulled out; apparently Shouta had packed Pompompurin so Chococat wouldn't get lonely, but the hopeful look he gives Hizashi as he passes the stuffie to him tells of a motive beyond that. It's subtle, but there's a crack in the wall he has thrown up when he takes the toy with a tentative smile. Hizashi takes longer to slip down, having committed to staying big that day. But it's a slippery slope from I'm a grown man to I'm a big boy, especially when he's got his playmate waiting on him. The problem isn't in the slipping, it's in the intensity; Hizashi is used to landing somewhere around five on the regression scale, only now he finds himself on Shouta's level and it feels weird. Feels like he should still be big enough to keep an eye on him, not be just as tiny and in need of a watchful eye. In need of help too, as he isn't used to the little things about being littler—like the way he spills juice all down his front because suddenly he is too small for a big kid cup. His frustration that Ryou was cautioned about becomes clear rather quickly as he scrubs at his eyes and fusses over what is really a mild inconvenience. Ryou knows what it is like to get frustrated, to have outbursts—so he recognizes when Hizashi's emotions start to get too big, that these new bouts of frustration are spawned from the worry that those feelings are too much for other people, and those feelings are only piling up.

The session concludes somewhat uneventfully all things considered. Hizashi had a few minor tantrums that were accounted for and carefully de-escalated, and Shouta only tried to chew on a crayon one time until he was successfully distracted by his paci. Though he was more withdrawn than he used to be based on their self-reports (self-reports that they did for each other because they are little shits who would have downplayed or outright lied on their own), which is saying something. Ryou had picked up on the way he would look up at him when he thought he wasn’t paying attention, eye wide and innocent with something akin to want. Not to mention there was the obvious separation anxiety between the two. During the entirety of the session there wasn't once where they were more than three feet apart while they were regressed, and even after they started to come back up that closeness was maintained. Ryou certainly has his work cut out for him, given that neither of the boys have ever really gone through counseling like they should have—the pair having gone to a combined grand total of five sessions since their second year at UA. But with all the other responsibilities they all have to try to fix society after the war, it is nice getting to work with cute tots like them. If nothing else it reminds him that things can get better for them all, as long as they are given the proper support. And support they shall have! Because until they can settle on a babysitter, Ryou has put the rest of the UA staff on baby alert. Meaning that he sends out a sort of blanket email to everyone advising that if they come across any of their fellow staff members while they are regressed to move forward accordingly, or find someone else who may be better suited to help out. Names weren't given, but giving names wasn't necessary. Shouta and Hizashi are, naturally, grumpy about it being broadcasted that they need a babysitter. Perhaps Hizashi moreso, as he whines about how they all don't needta know, says it isn't their business! Only it is their business whether or not him and Shouta are safe—they are heroes too, after all, and that means protecting each other.

While there are a couple potential candidates to act as a caregiver for the boys, it quickly becomes apparent that Ryou is starting to fill that spot. At first, they had considered Taishiro—Shouta's pick, though complications arose around the fact that he isn't a staff member and works out of Osaka. Then they considered Toshinori—Hizashi's pick, and more than just one of convenience. It's hard not to be enamored with the man himself, and the figure of All Might was a big part of their own childhoods as well, which adds to that sense of nostalgia that Hizashi craves. Not to mention Toshinori has wound up keeping an eye on both of them before; the issue with him acting as their primary caregiver essentially boils down to time. He may not be an active hero anymore, but he's playing a major role in overseeing the reconstruction of hero society. Which leaves the boys kind of in the wind for awhile. Try as he might, Hizashi leans more regressor than caregiver these days and Shouta almost always regresses when he does—just another way that they constantly seem to orbit aspects of each other, a part of the universe saying they are inseparable. So while the staff has agreed to take turns and work on establishing some sort of rotation, in the meantime it is left to whoever happens across the tiny heroes. And somehow, nine times out of ten it's Ryou that finds them. Shouta and Hizashi can't decide how it is he knows when they are small and have simply come to accept that he must be some sort of wizard (as is their baby conspiracy discussed in whispers from behind their plushies). In truth, it's because of his senses that are enhanced by his quirk. Most often he knows because he can quite literally smell it on them in the form of baby powder. Or his keen hearing picks up on the sounds of them giggling as they trade back and forth playing with a space helmet and cowboy hat that they've "borrowed".

Somehow it gets to the point where they seek out Ryou for help throughout the day without even thinking about the fact. Never for themselves though! It is either Shouta worrying about Hizashi ignoring the need to be small, or Hizashi worrying about Shouta not taking care of himself—clearly middlespacing as they try to keep it together. They still push themselves, albeit less so as they both begin to allow their new support system to ease into their lives with some hesitancy, afraid that it and the people they care about may be snatched away once again. Unsurprisingly they drop as soon as Ryou reassures them that it's safe to, that they did the right thing coming and finding him. Which means Ryou will have one of the boys toddling behind him while he has to go and toss the other over his shoulder and enforce some much needed small time. It becomes a common sight to see him wrangling the two in such a manner, but it is far from the only common sight this new dynamic brings. Shouta squeezes himself into some small space and camps out somewhere in his sleeping bag? Ryou scoops him up and takes him off to be put in the dorms until he's done with his nap so that his joints won't hurt later. Hizashi has a bad day and gets overwhelmed trying to manage his emotions and starts having a meltdown? Ryou is there to listen, help calm him back down, and remind him that it's okay to cry when he needs to. Before anybody knows it they've got a protective doggy daddy wrapped around their little fingers. Things may not be the same as before and can never be that way again, but that doesn't mean things have to be bad.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 4 - It's just me

This follows after No more soup and You're not a pet and I suggest reading those first.

Shouta is marking the papers in front of him, distantly aware of the show Hizashi is watching in the living-room but not really paying attention to it. It’s a nice background noise that washes over him with familiarity.

It isn’t until he hears the almost silent pitter patter of Hitoshi’s steps in the hallway that Shouta pays a little bit more attention to his surroundings.

He hates how silent Hitoshi is, hates to think why a ten-year-old knows how to hide his steps better than any aspiring pro hero Shouta trains but before the thoughts can consume his mind–again–he forces himself back into the present.

Hitoshi briefly stops in the doorway to the kitchen and Shouta can practically feel his gaze on him before he goes on, clearly aiming for the living-room. Shouta slightly turns his head, just enough to be able to spot the back of Hitoshi’s head and he sees how he hesitantly stops at the entrance to the living-room.

He watches the kid bounce on the balls of his feet before he seems to make a decision and step fully into the room.

It’s progress, Shouta knows that, no matter how hesitant Hitoshi appears to be. When they first took him home he wouldn’t leave his room for anything, and then only when they asked him to but recently he’s coming out of it more often and always of his own volition and it makes something warm and proud swirl in Shouta’s chest to see him finally start to accept that maybe he’s safe here.

“Hey, kiddo,” Hizashi greets Hitoshi as soon as he sees him, much more quiet than Shouta is used to, and this too has been a work in progress.

Hitoshi is skittish, loud noises and voices enough to send him running, just like fast and sharp movements are, and while Hizashi struggles with being quiet, Shouta struggles with making his presence known more.

It’s an adjustment period for all three of them and Shouta does not care to think about how often he or Hizashi have scared the kid inadvertently.

But it’s clear that at least they haven’t done any lasting damage, not if Hitoshi’s ventures out of his room are anything to go by and with that thought he focuses back on the papers in front of him.

Hitoshi very deliberately made his way to the living-room, so he either wants to be distracted or be with Hizashi and Shouta is not going to budge in on that.

“What’s up?” Hizashi asks next when Hitoshi stays quiet and of course Shouta can’t keep his attention on the grading he has to do.

It has been a struggle to get Hitoshi to speak once he revealed his secret to them and so it’s always a delight to hear the boy’s voice in the apartment. 

“I wanted to–” Hitoshi cuts himself off, prompting Shouta to make a face at nothing, as he has to remind himself that it’s a work in progress.

Always a work in progress. One day Hitoshi will feel confident in stating what he wants, he simply has to believe that.

“You said your quirk is dangerous,” Hitoshi goes on, clearly aiming for a different approach to this and Shouta frowns.

It takes him a moment to remember that Hizashi mentioned that when Hitoshi practically begged them to give him back, as if they only thought of him as an animal to kick out once they grew tired of him and that memory still makes Shouta want to tear his hair out.

“I did,” Hizashi softly agrees and when Shouta glances over again he sees Hitoshi’s mob of purple hair nod but when nothing else follows Shouta frowns.

“You’re allowed to ask questions, Hitoshi,” Hizashi reminds him, completely unnecessary, since Hitoshi doesn’t even need that to activate his quirk but habits that have been beaten into you are hard to break, Shouta knows that.

“Can you tell me about it? About how it was growing up with that?” Hitoshi finally asks and Shouta doesn’t need to see Hizashi to know that he freezes right up.

So much for grading then, Shouta thinks with a sigh as he gets up, scooping up Egg as he goes to join Hizashi on the couch.

Hitoshi’s wary glance follows his every step and the kid seems close to bolting even though Shouta gives him a wide berth as he walks around the couch.

“I can do that, kiddo,” Hizashi finally softly says as Shouta deposits Egg into Hizashi’s lap, and even though nothing has even happened yet, Hizashi buries his fingers in the soft fur of the way too docile cat.

They had kind of expected this; they knew that ever since Hizashi had mentioned it, it would only be a matter of time before Hitoshi came asking more about this. That still doesn’t mean that this would be easy on Hizashi, though of course there had never been any doubt that he’d tell Hitoshi as much as he can should he find the courage to ask.

Hitoshi doesn’t seem convinced at all, his eyes darting between Hizashi and Shouta, who tries to give him a reassuring smile. The disbelief is still clear on Hitoshi’s face but before Shouta can say something Hizashi goes on.

“Shou is here because this is not easy for me to talk about and sometimes I go somewhere in my head when I do. Shou is really good at getting me back out of it, so he’ll just sit here in case that happens, alright?”

“Like when I have a panic attack,” Hitoshi states, and Shouta bites back the reminder that he is allowed to ask questions.

If they push too hard Hitoshi is likely to clam up on them and that’s the last thing they want.

“Not quite,” Shouta corrects. “Hizashi goes very quiet and very still and his eyes go vacant. I think it looks a little as if he’s under your quirk, actually, but he won’t be. It’s just something his own mind is doing to him.”

“And you can’t find your own way back,” Hitoshi mutters, barely audible and Hizashi nods. 

“Yeah, I get all lost in here,” he says as he taps his temple. “I do eventually find my way back but it takes a long while and it leaves me all panicky when I come back on my own. It’s quicker and easier when Shou is there to help.”

“And the cat,” Hitoshi adds, staring at Egg who is still currently curled up in Hizashi’s lap.

“And Egg, yes. It helps sometimes to touch something that is grounding.”

Hitoshi is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking things over and Hizashi and Shouta share a look as they let him ponder over this.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Hitoshi finally says, straightening his shoulders, clearly determined to take it all back, but Shouta knows Hizashi too well to even think for a second that he’ll agree to this.

The kid asked a question and Hizashi will do his best to answer him.

“It’s fine, kiddo. It might not even happen,” Hizashi softly says and Shouta tries to hide his frown as best as he can.

It happens more often than not, whenever Hizashi remembers something from his childhood and he’s already been on edge for a while with everything that’s been going on with Hitoshi.

Hell, he found the kid with a muzzle on and then proceeded to have a very long panic attack once the kid was taken care of, so Shouta is really not too optimistic about this.

But it’s Hizashi’s decision, and he clearly has his mind already made up, so all Shouta can do is be there for him and try his best to guide him back home when he inadvertently loses himself.

“And even if it does, we’re right here, aren’t we?” Shouta asks as well, catching Hitoshi’s gaze, to let him know that he’s included in this.

He’ll probably help Hizashi come back better than Shouta ever could, if he’s being honest, even though Hizashi almost seems outraged that he should enlist Hitoshi’s help in this.

Shouta ignores it as best as he can and instead prompts Hizashi to finally speak because the kid asked a question and Hizashi decided to dig his own grave, so they better get on with it.

“What–what do you want to know?” Hizashi asks and Shouta graciously doesn’t comment on his obvious nerves, because for now his role is to be a silent observer.

Maybe they all get lucky today and that is all he has to be for this conversation.

“Your childhood,” Hitoshi hesitantly starts. “I was just wondering, what it was like for you and if you can–” his voice drifts off and Shouta watches the kid wring his hands in his lap, desperate to reach out and pull him into a hug, but he keeps to his side.

He’s just here as an observer. This is Hizashi’s moment.

“If I can relate to what happened to you?” Hizashi carefully asks and Hitoshi nods, his purple hair fluffing around. “I can, kiddo,” Hizashi tells him with a sad smile and reaches out to take one of Hitoshi’s hands in his.

“I was born with my quirk, so you can imagine the amount of control I had when I was just born. I deafened my birth parents and the staff present and was then promptly abandoned. They, uh,” Hizashi swallows heavily and Shouta reaches out for his other hand.

This is already not looking good, if he’s stumbling over his words already.

“I’ve been told they kept me in a special facility for the first three years, isolated from everyone, to limit the damage I could do. I don’t actually remember that part, but when I turned four they brought out the–” 

Hizashi’s voice breaks over the word and so instead he simply taps his lips. Hitoshi nods, his eyes wide and Shouta squeezes Hizashi’s hand.

“I spent the better part of my childhood with it on,” Hizashi admits and then leans forward, extracting his hand from Hitoshi’s to push his glasses up.

It takes Hitoshi a moment to understand what he wants but when he spots the faint, silvery scars on Hizashi’s face his hands fly to the bridge of his nose, tracing the mirroring ones there.

“You’re like me,” Hitoshi breathes out and Hizashi nods.

“Yeah, kiddo, we match!” The usual cheer is missing from his tone and Shouta wishes they could stop talking about this.

He hates it when Hizashi pushes himself to talk about this.

There’s already a faint trembling in Hizashi’s hand and even though he’s trying to smile at Hitoshi he can’t quite make his smile reach his eyes and that’s always a bad sign with Hizashi.

Hitoshi seems to notice that Hizashi is not doing too well, too tuned in to the emotions of adults around him and instead of asking what he so clearly wants to know, he bites his lip instead, his eyes flitting over to Shouta.

Shouta would love to tell him to stop, wants to spare all of them this, but Hizashi has made the decision to talk about this, and Shouta is not going to interfere with that.

So he nods encouragingly at Hitoshi, urges him to keep going but he still hesitates. He hesitates for long enough that Hizashi notices something is off, too.

“It’s okay, you can keep asking,” he tells the kid and by now even his voice shakes. Still, he seems determined, and Hitoshi must notice that, too, because he takes a deep breath.

“Your foster families. Were they nice to you or were they like mine?”

Hizashi’s hand jerks in Shouta’s and Shouta fights the urge to flare his quirk just to let his emotions go somewhere. They know that Hitoshi suffered abuse at most of his foster families, and even though they don’t know the details, they know enough to hate that he even has to ask that.

That there is even cause to ask that.

“Oh, kiddo,” Hizashi breathes out, his face falling. “They were like yours,” he then admits, because what else is there to say.

He did not wear the muzzle until he was eight for nothing, Shouta knows that. It still makes him furious to think what happened to Hizashi, what happened to Hitoshi.

To know that nothing has changed, not really.

“Some were–not quite as bad,” Hizashi goes on and Hitoshi nods in understanding and Shouta hates, hates, hates this but he bites it all back.

This is not about him. He has a role to play here and it’s not to get angry. Shouta forces himself to breathe evenly, to not tighten his grip on Hizashi’s hand beyond a steady comfort and he resigns himself to watching silently.

“Some were–worse. School was–bad, always bad,” Hizashi mutters and he’s slipping right through Shouta’s fingers, he can tell.

“I was never good enough, never quiet enough, even though they had–” His hand goes up to his face again, tracing over where the muzzle used to sit and Shouta doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s gone inside his head now.

It’s not that noticeable if one doesn’t know what to look for, if one has no experience with this; Hizashi could just be lost in thought, spacing out for a moment, but Shouta knows better.

He knows Hizashi is caught up in all of his bad memories, all at once, trapped and unable to come back to them.

“Aizawa?” Hitoshi carefully asks, keeping unnaturally still and Shouta forces himself to give him a smile.

“You can move, he’s not going to notice. It’s fine, remember, this is why I’m here,” Shouta tells him and gently squeezes Hizashi’s hand.

“Hey, ‘Zashi,” he softly calls out and he’s grateful when Hizashi’s head twitches into his direction.

It means he’s still trying to be aware. It makes this easier. Sometimes, Hizashi doesn’t react to anything and those times are always so, so hard.

“I’m here, remember? It’s just me,” Shouta reminds him. “You’re in our home, yours and mine and Hitoshi’s, where no one can hurt you. You’re safe with us,” he goes on and his eyes flit over to Hitoshi for a moment.

“Remember Hitoshi? He’s right here with us,” Shouta goes on, nodding encouragingly at the kid who bites his lip briefly before he takes a deep breath.

“I’m here, too,” he then says, almost too quiet to be heard but Hizashi’s head slightly turns in his direction.

“‘Toshi,” Hizashi mutters and Shouta almost wants to laugh at how big the kids’ eyes get when he hears it.

“Take his hand if you want, it will help him,” Shouta whispers at him and after a moment of hesitation Hitoshi reaches out for Hizashi’s hand.

Shouta is glad to see Hizashi respond to that, his hand not entirely limp in Hitoshi’s, because that’s a good sign. Maybe Hizashi will be back with them before they even know it.

“See, Hitoshi is here and I am here, too. And we want you to come back. Even Egg is here, waiting for you to cuddle her like you always do,” Shouta says, placing Hizashi’s hand in Egg’s fur. “Do you remember how you usually cuddle her?” he asks and watches how Hizashi slowly, so slowly starts to pet her.

It’s not even close to what he normally does, but it’s so much better than it usually is when Hizashi gets like this.

“That’s right. Think you can come back to us? We’re waiting here for you, waiting for you to speak and to laugh like you normally do. It’s just not the same without you, you know, we miss you.”

“You miss me,” Hizashi mumbles, words barely understandable but Shouta nods anyway.

“Yeah. It’s real boring without you here, isn’t it, Hitoshi?”

Shouta almost feels bad to bring attention to the kid, but he’s still watching with big eyes, his hand around Hizashi’s and he hasn’t bolted yet, so maybe he wants to help.

“I like it when you hum while you cook,” Hitoshi admits and Shouta nods at him to keep going. “Do you remember the song you hummed yesterday? You wanted to tell me what it was but then Egg nearly jumped into the pot and you forgot,” Hitoshi says and Shouta has to bite back a snort because that is such an Egg thing to do.

They will never train her out of jumping into steaming hot food; food she doesn’t even want to eat, no less.

Shouta doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t for Hizashi to start humming, awareness coming back to his eyes faster than it ever has before. Going by the delighted look on Hitoshi’s face it’s the very same song he hummed yesterday. 

Shouta knows it, it’s one of Hizashi’s favourite American songs, but he can never remember the name of it.

“Yes, that one, it was that one!” Hitoshi excitedly says and Shouta sees a smile curl around Hizashi’s mouth.

“Welcome back,” he quietly says, squeezing Hizashi’s arm once and when Hizashi’s eyes move over to look at him, Shouta has never been happier to see him alert and there. 

“Hi,” Hizashi breathes out and leans in for a quick kiss, before he turns his attention back towards Hitoshi. “Hi, kiddo.”

“You’re back,” Hitoshi says, expression cautiously delighted and he doesn’t let go of Hizashi’s hand for even a moment.

“I am,” Hizashi agrees. “Thanks to you.”

“Excuse me, I helped,” Shouta drily says, more than relieved to see Hizashi’s smile and hear Hitoshi’s laugh.

This really has been one of the easiest and most painless episodes Hizashi has ever had and Shouta is glad for it. He hates to see his husband go where he can’t follow him, where he can’t protect him.

“I’m sure you did,” Hizashi teasingly says and moves his hand out of Egg’s fur to pat Shouta’s, before he goes on, more serious now. “You always do.”

“As long as you remember that,” Shouta teases him, before he reaches out to ruffle Hitoshi’s hair. “But you did really well, that was a good idea with the humming,” Shouta says and Hizashi nods.

“Yeah, that was really smart,” he agrees and Shouta watches a contemplating expression flit over Hitoshi’s face before he schools it back into his usual indifference.

“What is it, kid?” Shouta asks, tilting his head in question and Hitoshi shuffles where he sits.

“I’m just–do you think–”

“What, huh?” Hizashi gently prods him when he trails off without finishing his question and Hitoshi squares his shoulders, clearly gathering courage.

“I know counting breaths is supposed to help in a panic attack,” he starts and fiddles with the hem of his shirt, “but I always get confused and lose count and then–” he shrugs but Shouta can fill in the gaps.

Because if he’s being told to count and he loses count it would undoubtedly make him panic even harder, because he’s not following along like he’s supposed to.

“But maybe the humming could help?”

“Maybe it can!” Hizashi immediately agrees. “It’s worth a try.” Hizashi’s face briefly falls. “I’m sorry we didn’t realise that counting didn’t help,” he then offers but Hitoshi shakes his head. 

“You asked me before, what I think would help, but I couldn’t–I didn’t think I was allowed to say,” he admits and for all that it makes Shouta furious again, to hear that the kid has never been allowed to ask for things, to even simply state things, it also makes something warm surge in his chest, because clearly now Hitoshi knows that he’s allowed to say something like that.

“You’re always allowed to say anything you want, kid,” Shouta still reminds him, because he thinks it can’t hurt if Hitoshi hears it again and again and again.

Hitoshi only nods at that before he ducks his head again, slumping in on himself.

“What is it, kid?” Shouta asks because by now he knows the tells of his family and the position Hitoshi is in means that he’s got something else to say, something he doesn’t feel comfortable saying.

“I don’t want to upset Yamada again,” Hitoshi mutters and Shouta and Hizashi share a look before Hizashi carefully pulls the kid closer.

“It’s not you who upset me,” he gently tells him as he tucks him into his side, “and even if that should happen, I have you two right here, don’t I? You’ll make sure I’ll be fine, I trust that.”

Hitoshi’s breath hitches in his throat and Shouta shuffles closer until he can put a hand to Hitoshi’s knee.

“He’ll tell you if it’s too much,” he reassures him as well and Hitoshi still doesn’t look at them, but he does speak up.

“It got better for you, right?” he asks, his voice thin and wavery and Hizashi drops a kiss to the top of his head and Shouta relaxes, because this is easier for Hizashi to talk about.

“It did, kiddo, it got so much better. My moms found me when I was eight and they took me in without hesitation. They got rid of the muzzle and pulled me out of school and even when I deafened one of them, they never faltered in their love for me.”

“You hurt them?”

“I did. I had basically no control over my quirk, because no one bothered to teach me or even let me talk. But my moms took care of that. They sent me to a specialist, had me training my quirk until I could sing at the top of my lungs without hurting anyone and then they moved us to a different city, far away from everyone who only remembered me as the dangerous kid. I never had problems in school again and my moms never hurt me. I got real lucky and I had a really happy childhood from then on.”

Shouta sees Hitoshi process that before he opens his mouth and promptly closes it again so fast that his teeth painfully clack together.

Shouta doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Hitoshi wanted to ask.

“Just like you will now,” he whispers, leaning in close and catching Hitoshi’s eyes. “We have you now, and we’re going to make sure that you never get hurt again. We’ll make you as happy as we can, I promise you that. You’re always safe with us.”

“We wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt you ever again, kiddo,” Hizashi says as well and Hitoshi slumps against his side, hiding his face away in his sweatshirt.

“Is it okay if I move to your other side?” Shouta asks after a moment because he’d really like to hug the kid now, too and he moves as soon as Hitoshi nods his consent.

Shouta sits close and brackets Hitoshi in by putting his arm around Hizashi’s shoulder and no one says anything when Hitoshi quietly cries into Hizashi’s sweater. It’s not necessary that anyone says something, because people have lied to Hitoshi all his life and so now it’s important that they show him that it’s okay, that he’s safe with them.

That they are never going to hurt him.

It will take time, Shouta is under no illusion there, but when he looks up at Hizashi he sees nothing but determination and love in his eyes and he knows that they are in this for life.

There is no way they are ever going to betray the fragile trust that was placed in them.

[dark-elf-writes]

Harry as a weapon being taught to be human inbetween by Tenya and Teddy. Tenya who holds his hands and kisses his scars (forehead, hand, arm, all the scars he can find).

Class 1A seeing this broken pile of teens, who came from a war where nothing changed in the end. 1A who swears to make it right in their own world. (Not all do. Mineta is removed early after Harry uses his money to payback the donation the boy’s family made so the board wouldn’t fuss. Bakugou who sneers at everyone and won’t see the broken teens as anything but failures. Who fights for himself like another blond Harry remembers who had the same money and entitlement issues.)

Hizashi loving the nephew they never met until now. Who curses out Dumbledore with a bottle of scotch and the warmth of old friends around them.

Touya and Percy working together to rip down Endeavour. Aided by Molly who snarls her anger. She’s been unable to help Harry (in her darker dreams she wondered why she’d suddenly forgotten about the bars. Why it only came back when Dumbledore died. She was scared to know why she’d brushed it aside. She won’t let it happen again). Molly who storms Natsuo’s dorm to give him a sweater, who hugs Fuyumi. Who meets Rei with a smile (and a cloak borrowed from Harry. Rei goes missing three days later after a visit from her husband. Fleur just so happens to have her aunt visit after)

Arthur works with Nezu and flourishes. His mind and skill clicks with the small mammal who finds delight in these wizards. Arthur who discovers a boy forced to spy and opens his arms to the child. Who loves and accepts.

Geroge who finds hope in Tensei and later finds his own mark shining (only half because his twin was always part of him). Mount Lady who smiles and struts but who also has been trying more. Who saw a boy run in to save another while she did nothing and feels the sting. Who settles her shoulders, deciding she would fight back (who fights with Midnight as part of their PR but both go to a bar to bitch about it after) Mt Ldy who sees her soulmate, and decides to truly change to prove herself.

Neville who left a grandmother whom never saw him and a family who hurt him. Neville who finds his way as a UA student. As a leader.

UA is happy to open its doors as a magical school, Nezu cheerfully talking with Minerva who decided ‘fuck it’ when most of the children she cared about left. She followed after lighting Dumbledore’s portrait on fire.

Harry who forgot what it was not to be a freak or the Boy-Who-Lived. Even those closest to him turned him into a symbol in the end. A banner. He was the figurehead of their war and the man who was born to save them. Born to die for them. They try to understand but it’s hard to break six plus years of indoctrination. Harry can’t blame them for it. He’s having a hard time breaking it himself. It’s easier with Tenya being so far removed from the wizarding world. Who only sees Harry as his Soulmate rather than as a Symbol. He treats Harry so gently, so kindly, and pulls him back from that edge he was forced to walk so long. That he would still walk to keep those he cares about safe.

All, or well most with a few notable exceptions, of 1-A are just as caring to their newest classmates. The Refugees Ginny dubs their little group with a laugh full of pain and black humor. They are refugees in a sense. Survivors of a war that they won but still somehow lost in the end. The few that stood up to fight. The children that coated their hands in blood when most adults offered them up like lambs for the slaughter. 1-A can’t understand really but they are trying to. It is worlds beyond what any of them have received before.

Hizashi is another example of that gentleness, and one that understands far more than 1-A even if they still dont understand all of it. They have been a hero for years now. They know the kind of toll that it takes on the willing adults that go into it with support and training. They can only imagine what it would do to unwilling children forced to become someone more than what they are so young. To do so with only each other at their backs to count on. They offer companionship (as much as they want to bundle Harry away from the world and protect him, to parent him even, it is far too late for that now. They will never forgive the people that made them miss that chance.) offer a listening ear offer a bottle of their best alcohol when Harry finally finally allows himself to get angry about what was done to him. They teach him every curse word they know and he hurls all of them at a dead man. They hold him when he breaks mourning dozens of deaths including his own. They sit with him through the nightmares, running their fingers through his hair and humming to try and keep them at bay. They should have been able to do this before. They whisper their own curses long after Harry has fallen asleep that neither of them had the chance until so much had been lost.

Molly who will never forgive herself for what she let happen to his babies, all of them even those not hers by name, right under her nose. Who has been nursing nightmares and migraines after the war that didn’t come from the battles and trauma. That overlay her memories of a kind if timid boy to show her bruises and too knobby wrists and her children yelling at her about bars on bedroom windows. She doesn’t want to think about why these are coming now. She already knows. So she throws herself into helping her newest son, whether the boy knows he is already a Weasley or not. Into helping his siblings. Into helping his mother. She failed her children for so long and she will not do so again.

Arthur who feels as if a fog he hadn’t even noticed was lifted around the same time Mollys nightmares started. Who is able to focus to notice more. Who still loves to tinker and build things but can now pay more attention to his children to the world around him to the scars that still sit prominently on his face. He is the one that notices the spy, eyes clear and mind sharp for the first time in what feels like decades. He is the one that pulls him into the fold and swears to protect him in the way he never could for Harry. He had failed his children too. It is not something he will allow to happen again.

Neville who steps into the role of leader of their little group of refugees knowing deep down that it would kill Harry Ron or Hermione to do so. He had been a leader for a year anyway, had kept those still in Hogwarts as safe as he could for as long as he could. Far more names would have been on the memorial if he had not. It’s not hard for him to do. It is something he can endure with a smile, as much as any of them smiled now. If he was honest with himself he sort of liked it. It isn’t anything he would have thought he would be good at before. It’s nice to prove that part of himself that sounds far too much like his grandmother wrong.

Nezu doesn’t even hesitate to open a new department of UA for his newest collection of pups. Doesn’t hesitate to welcome Minerva with open arms when she comes looking for them with sharp eyes and sharper claws wrapped tightly around her wand. She was willing to fight her way through to them. Nezu opens the doors and offers her a position teaching them once again instead.

[ghostlycomputerartisan]

That Was Unexpected Pt.3

This Was Unexpected Pt.3 (Polyamorous Relationship with Shota Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada)Reader is Female and uses she/her pronouns

Let me just explain something I was just thinking about so that I hopefully don't confuse you or myself anymore. The first part of this series I'm going to say took place on a 3 day weekend, so it was a Friday and UA had the day off. For part two, since I said a few days later, that it's going to be Monday, and it was after school hours that you all had gone to the doctors and checked out houses! :D I'm bad at thinking about logistics...

!!!WARNING: EMETOPHOBIA (the actual act of vomiting), Seasonal depression (Is that even a warning? Couldn't anything be a warning???), language, implied sexual themes

Word Count: 1608

Your eyes wander over towards the sliver of light that spread across your bedroom from the window with almost completely closed curtains. It was December now, and you noticed snow falling from the sky. Winter has made it's appearance once again. You and Shota both had always been saddened by the colder weather. It felt very depressing and made you want to lay in bed snuggling even more.

You laid still between your two boys, legs are tangled with each other, arms over your body. You knew you'd have to get up soon with the twisting feeling in your gut. You groaned quietly, careful not to wake up your lovers, as they had work today. You did too, you needed to go into your agency but you didn't need to until a bit later after your partners had been gone for awhile. You try to ignore the sick feeling, instead curling up closer to whichever lover your facing, which doesn't last long before your turning over trying to get more comfortable.

Before long, you quit denying the inevitable and decided to get up instead, trying not to wake up either of the boys. Which was also inevitable, because Shota had never been a very heavy sleeper like Hizashi had. You headed towards the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible, closing the door quietly and setting down a step stool in front of the toilet to sit on while you waited. You sighed, setting your elbow on your knee and resting your head on your hand, closing your eyes while you sat there.

There was a chance you wouldn't even throw up and that it was just going to be a stomach ache that lasted for what felt like forever. You were knocked out of your daze by a light tapping on the door.

"Y/n?" a deep sleepy voice whispered.

"Hmm? D'you need the restroom?"

"Mhm, I'll go to the other one though"

"Mk"

There was slight shuffling on the opposite side of the door until it once again fell silent. A wave of strong nausea hit you suddenly, causing you to groan quietly and squeeze your eyes shut. There was another light knock on the door, probably Shota again.

"Baby?"

"Mhm?"

"D'ya need anything?"

"I don' know"

"Can I come in?"

You hummed, and the door quietly opened and closed again. Your eyes remained closed as you felt him shuffle behind you and sit on the edge of the bath tub. He rested his forehead on your upper back, gently rubbing your back with one of his hands, the other arm resting on his knee.

"You should go back to bed, you have work in an hour" you muttered, groaning again as another wave hits you.

"I'll be 'kay," he mumbled. "I don't wan' leave you by yourself."

You don't know how long the two of you sat there, 10? 20 minutes? But soon enough, you were leaning further forward over the toilet, gags escaping your throat. You choked for a second, trying to breathe.

"Shh, you're stressin', calm remember"

You nodded, bile rising in your throat and flowing past your lips. Shota pulled your hair back, still rubbing your back with the other hand. Soon enough, it stopped and you were left panting as tears rolled down your cheeks. Your lover pulled away from you, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe you mouth off with.

"I don' wan' be sick anymore," you cried quietly.

"I know honey" he murmured back, throwing the piece of toilet paper in the toilet and flushing it. "Think your done for righ' now?"

You nodded as he wiped the leftover tears off your face. "Come 'ere," he spoke, reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he helped you up. You brushed your teeth while he leaned against the door, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the door frame. When you finished, you stretched a bit. Aizawa looked at you sympathetically, noticing the tired look in your eyes. He pulled you closer, lifting you up and holding you like a kid with your legs on either side of him, head resting in the crook of his neck and arms holding on tightly.

"Wan' go back to bed?"

You nodded against his shoulder, eyes drooping with sleepiness, "stay home from work?" you asked.

"As tempting as that is, you know I can't. I will cuddle you till you fall asleep though."

You lightly kissed his neck as he took you back to bed. As the two of you laid back in bed, you laying on top of him. When the two of you got comfortable, Shota reached towards Hizashi and pulled him closer to the two of you, waking the latter slightly.

"What time is it?" He mumbled.

"6:30ish" Shota mumbled.

Hizashi hummed, pulling himself as close as he could to the two of you, cuddling you two close. His leg hiked up under yours but on top of Shota's. Shota sighed, his hand finding its way into your hair, his head turning to kiss Hizashi's forehead. You knew he couldn't go back to sleep. That's just how he worked, when he woke up, he was up for good! No chances of being able to fall asleep again. You felt Hizashi's hands worm their way over your hip and gently rubbing your ass. You felt him squeeze your ass, and decided to get revenge. Your hand now inching towards his ass you hold him by the waist, doing the little thumb thing before sliding it down and squeezing firmly. He gasped from the sudden shock and whined as you giggled a little bit.

"Really Hizashi?" Shota mumbled, turning his head to look at the blonde.

"I'm sorry!! I can't help it!" his sleepiness slowly fading

"I'm not helping you this time." 

"Not fair!!! Y/n? What about you" he pouted.

"mm-mm!!"

"But babe!!"

"Nuh-uh!! Doing that is what caused me to be vomiting at 6 in the morning when I could've been sleeping!!"

He whined, laying back down and deciding he'd rather cuddle with his lovers than get up. Eventually you fell asleep, waking up much later around 930. The bed was empty and the apartment quiet which was always kind of depressing. Especially in the winter. You picked up your phone, immediately turning down the brightness of the screen. You saw a message from each of your lovers.

You read each of them, smiling and responding before getting out of bed, heading for the breakfast Shota said he left on the counter for you. You sat in silence as you ate, trying to ignore the weather you'd have to endure when you left for work. But as always, time came when you had to leave. Of course you wished it never came, especially when just a few hours from now, your lovers would be home and able to relax or do something with you. But you had to. 

You got ready and left the house, giving your cat one last scratch behind the ear before heading out the door. You sighed, a cloud of fog from your breath rose and you headed towards your car, turning on the heat till you were willing to leave the building. Nothing really happened while you were at your agency. You weren't needed on any missions. It was fairly radio silent. But your energy was still drained after you were stuck doing paperwork that you needed to finish from your last mission. 

When you got back to the apartments, you found Shota, laying across the couch with wet hair and a furry friend and Hizashi was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you closed the door dropping your bag to the ground, kicking off your shoes, leaving them strewn across the small hall and your coat, gloves and scarf thrown off to the side. You walked up to Shota, giving him a kiss on the lips. You adjusted so you were facing him better and kissed him more passionately, wanting the attention. 

"Bad day?" he questioned.

You shook your head no, mumbling, "no, just boring... did paperwork the whole time."

He chuckled under his breath, giving you a final kiss on the lips before you stood up and stretched, "I need a shower."

"Hizashi's in there now, could go join him but ya'know how that could turn out."

"Fair, but right now I may be willing to take the chance."

You headed towards the bathroom Hizashi was in and walked in, stripping off all your clothes. You all usually walk into the bathroom anytime the others are showering because for the most part you didn't mind. They respected more of your boundaries than anything, knocking before coming in most of the time. Once you were naked, you got in the shower with him.

"Woah! Hey sexy, when'd you get here?" he flirted, raising his eyebrows at you.

You giggled a little, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him in for some soft kisses. 

"Babe!" he whined.

You smirked, "I guess I can help you out this time."

[dira333]

And the medal goes to... - Present Mic x Reader

for @alienaiver - for the Milestone Event Week 1 - Words: 1,6k

Join My Taglist

This is the best day of his life. 

“You’re annoying,” Shouta tells him from the side, but that’s not breaking his stride, no no.

“You’re just jealous,” Hizashi sings. “Because you didn’t got nominated.”

“I don’t want to be nominated.”

“Who doesn’t want to be nominated?” He turns now, glaring incredulously at his best friend. “It’s a freaking gold medal.”

“It’s not real gold,” Shouta corrects him. “You’re not playing the Olympics. You got gold in the Sports Festival one year, why is this making you so excited?”

“It’s a Medal of Valour, that’s serious business. Valour!!!”

“Yeah, I got it the first time.” Shouta sticks his pinky into his right ear and twists it. “Thanks for bursting my eardrum.”

“I didn’t burst it. I can burst it though if you want me to.”

“Not right now, maybe later.” Shouta parks the car. “Will you be okay without-”

“Don’t you dare stay behind!”

-

It’s a shame he had to come in his hero outfit. 

Sure it looks cool, but the medal will look stupid hanging right over his directional speaker. He could have worn a cool suit, mix up the old-fashioned needle-strip with some leather, spikes or bold colors.

“Oh, Present Mic, Sir, you’re right on time.”

“Of course, it’s such an honor-”

“Right this way, Sir,” he’s cut off, ushered down hallways. “You can wait in here until it’s time to step outside.”

Hizashi blinks. “Am I not supposed to listen to the speeches?”

The girl that had been guiding him looks a little confused.

“I mean, you can listen to them, but your presence is supposed to be a surprise, so you shouldn’t be seen from the crowd.”

“A surprise?” Behind him, Shouta lifts his head. Leave it to him to sniff out something weird.

“I’m sorry, maybe we got this wrong, but isn’t he nominated?”

“Nominated?” The girl stares wide-eyed in surprise. “No! Haven’t you read the letter we sent you?”

Shouta looks at him. He remembers the letter, but not the contents of it. 

Nomination, Medal of Valour, something something.

“Uh…”

“You’re our special guest. You’re here to deliver the Medal.”

“Oh,” Hizashi feels about half his size now. How is he going to explain this to his colleagues tomorrow? They’re all waiting to see that damned medal.

“No harm done,” Shouta calms down the poor girl while he tries to regain his sense of self. “We figured it out in no time. He doesn’t have to do a speech or anything?”

“No, just… be himself and deliver the Medal.”

“I can do that,” Hizashi promises, fumbling with the zipper of his leather jacket. “I can totally do that. I just… I think I got confused, because, why me?”

“I really can’t stay any longer,” the girl excuses herself at that, all but fleeing the scene. So much for an answer.

“Don’t say anything,” he begs Shouta who’s smile is small, but telling. Oh, he’s definitely going to hear about this later.

-

The room is small, but cozy, with a mini-fridge filled with drinks. 

One door leads back to the hallway and the other, Hizashi guesses, leads to the stage.

He pulls it open just a smidge so that he can listen.

The speeches are long and drawn out, as they usually are for an event like this.

Finally, they announce the names of the nominees. 

It’s not a competition, Hizashi knows. Each one of them will be granted their medal.

There’s an older lady who saved a toddler by calling for help. A guy who carried his co-worker out of a burning building. And then there’s you.

Something changes, he’s not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the murmuring crowd or the guy explaining everything or maybe it’s something entirely else, but Hizashi listens carefully now.

You’ve stood up to a Villain, faced injury or worse in order to shield an innocent child.

He knows he’s missing something from the story, but he doesn’t know what.

-

“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

The older lady’s name is Yachi Hitoka. She calls herself a scaredy cat, but knew she needed to do something when the little girl in front of her seemed to have trouble breathing. 

“I don’t have children,” she recalls, “but she held tightly onto my hand as we waited for help to arrive.”

The guy’s name is Tanaka Ryūnosuke and he talks about his deed of heroism like it was nothing but a walk in the park.

“Well I had to carry him out,” he recalls casually. “He couldn’t walk. It wasn’t that bad, just three sets of stairs. And he’s not that heavy, I think everyone could have lifted him-” He hesitates for a second. “Well, anyway, it was a good thing that I prioritize lifting over Cardio.” He chuckles over his own joke.

Finally, it’s your turn.

Your voice is friendly, but there’s an underlying hint of anxiety. No one’s calm on a stage unless they’ve had practice. 

Your name doesn’t ring a bell and neither does your profession but your story touches him differently than the others.

“I just had to help,” you say, voice tight. “Just because they’re quirkless doesn’t mean they can be treated that way! And what kind of person would I be, just looking the other way?”

“What gave you the strength to stand up to this Villain? I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“No,” you laugh. “But I thought about my favorite Hero. And that helped me a lot.”

“Oh, you’ve mentioned him before. What’s his name again, so that we all now?”

Your voice turns lower, as if you’re flustered.

“It’s, uh, it’s Present Mic. I’ve looked up to him since he’s had his debut.”

Shouta’s elbow digs deep into his ribs at that. Hizashi had forgotten about his best friend’s presence until that moment and he curses quietly under his breath.

Behind him, a door opens. 

“Are you ready?” The girl from earlier asks and he turns to nod at her before facing the stage again, peeking through the open door at the thick curtain he has to step through in a moment.

- - - x - - -

It’s hard to focus with the bright lights all around you, your sweaty hands leaving damp marks on your arm rests and all those faces looking up at you.

Medal of Valour. Hah. You didn’t do it for a Medal.

You did it for yourself, growing up Quirkless. For all the looks and the rumours and the loneliness.

You did it, because you knew, if he had been there, Present Mic would have done it too. 

At least you like to believe that.

“We were touched by your story,” the interviewer says now. “So we brought in an extra Guest today. Someone special to deliver the Medals.”

You swallow, unsure how to react.

Movement on your right has you shift your head and you glare into the bright light, trying to figure out what’s happening.

The curtains lift and you see something, someone, stepping through. Black leather, bight blond hair - you let out a weird sound that’s neither here nor there.

Present Mic is taller than you imagined him. 

He’s staring at you like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing and you wonder if he noticed the cane crammed between your thigh and armrest or the dark shadows under your eyes that come from the anemia.

Present Mic opens his mouth. You think you’re prepared for his voice but you’re not. Or rather, you’re not prepared for his words.

“You’re pretty!”

He says it like he’s dazed, like one does after getting hit in the head.

Snickers are heard from the crowd and he snaps out of it, blushing a feverish red.

“Pretty brave,” he corrects himself and you choke out a nervous giggle, try to avert your eyes and find you can’t. “Pretty brave indeed. I heard all of your stories. That’s what heroism is about, right? To help when needed, even when it’s hard.”

He blunders on, puts one word after the other until he’s got a sentence and then another but his eyes don’t seem to leave you.

It’s crazy and strange and you’re probably imagining things - yeah, that must be it - but he’s suddenly right in front of you, handing you that medal you never thought you could want, his hands lingering on yours a little longer than necessary.

You watch him move on. Tanaka-san next to you claps Present Mic on the shoulder like they’re old friends. Yachi-san giggles like a schoolgirl in love when he compliments her up-do, not once mentioning the obvious grey.

It’s over too soon. You’re meant to leave the stage under the applause of a crowd but you can’t walk that fast and the applause ebbs away as you fight your way down the stairs, your hand gripping your cane shaking.

It’s the nerves, really, but you know how it looks like.

“Care to hold on to my arm?” Present Mic’s on your other side all of a sudden, his arm right where you need it.

You hold onto it, flustered when he puts his hand right over yours, warm and reassuring.

“Can’t let you get away from me before I have your number,” he mumbles but he’s not good at speaking quietly, it seems and heads turn.

You don’t care for them. 

You only care for the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Well I could give it to you,” you tell him, a little braver now that you’re on solid ground, the crowd dispersing around you. “After all, you’ve been brave enough to ask.”

“Mhm,” he nods, smirking. “Brave enough to get a Medal of Valour?”

“Let’s not get too hasty,” you play along. “Start with my number first.”

“And a date second...”

-

Tagging:

@notsochillnerd @tsxkishimx @alexxavicry @lokiloveheart @kaykaystrings

[bisexual-queenie]

Could you please write more BNHA Pro Heroes as Incorrect Quotes. I need a Pt.2

OMG Im so happy that someone wanted a part 2 to one of my favorite posts that I made!! Here yall go!

(Few trigger warnings before we begin: Use if swearing, and mentions of violence an alcohol. Let me know if I missed anything!)

Ships mentioned (Vaugley and outright): Erasermic, Edgejeanist, Nightmight, and Kamui x Mount Lady

—————————————————————————

Eraserhead: You have to apologize to Takeyama.

Midnight: Fine.

Midnight: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

All Might: You often use humor to deflect trauma.

Nighteye: Thank you!

All Might: I didn't say that was a good thing.

Nighteye: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny.

Present Mic: Do you remember that horrible roommate you had back in college?

Eraserhead: You mean you?

Mount Lady: Sometimes I feel like dying.

Kamui Woods: Wha-

Mount Lady: And then I remember that I won't be able to see you if I do.

Kamui Woods: *blushes*

———————————————————————

Best Jeanist: Sometimes I feel like dying.

Edgeshot: Good for you.

Miruko: Do I look nice?

Fat Gum: You look like you're about to set someone on fire.

Miruko: Perfect.

Present Mic: A fistfight CAN be romantic.

Miruko: And you know what the worst part is?

Ryukyuu: That you're having to process your pain without vodka?

Miruko: No.

Miruko: Yeah.

Midnight: If you found out you only had one day left to live, what would you do with it?

Eraserhead: Say goodbye and mend my relationships.

Present Mic: Something illegal.

Shirakumo: Accept my fate.

Tensei: I would message ten people saying that if they didn't forward the message to 10 other people, I would die tomorrow.

Eraserhead: What?

Shirakumo: That's fucking awesome. Can I change my answer?

Eraserhead: Hizashi, just GO TO THE HOSPITAL

Present Mic: Who's stab wound is this???? Is it OUR stab wound???? No! Stay out of it!

Hawks: I'm the proud owner of an IQ of 5 (and a half)!

Endeavor: Not for long.

Hawks: Please. It's all I have.

Present Mic: "Ladies and gentlemen" is unnecessarily gendered, overly formal, lengthy, and honestly I'm falling asleep already.

Present Mic: "Cowards", on the other hand, is inclusive to all genders, casual and fun. Short and to the point, exciting, and dramatic.

Nighteye: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Present Mic: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

Gang Orca: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner.

Edgeshot: Kuugo, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck.

Gang Orca: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not.

Edgeshot: Well, I mean yeah.

Gang Orca: So come downstairs while they’re still hot.

Best Jeanist: Wait, you just made them?

Gang Orca: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets.

Edgeshot: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Kuugo.

Present Mic: *speaking Spanish*

Eraserhead: I know, I know.

All Might: You speak Spanish?

Eraserhead: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Hizashi speaks.

All Might: I would never say that Mirai is a bitch and I don’t don’t like him. That’s not true…Mirai is a bitch and I like him so much!

Edgeshot: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

*Present Mic sneezes*

Eraserhead: Hizashi, are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby!

*anyone else sneezes*

Eraserhead: Oh my god. Shut the hell up.

Hawks: Uptown Funk would've made it into the Shrek Soundtrack.

Miruko: That's the truest statement I've ever heard.

Fat Gum: Hey Sasaki?

Nighteye: Yeah?

Fat Gum: What's your favorite color of the alphabet? True or false?

Nighteye:

Nighteye: ...What.

Ryukyuu: So, what's it like living with Hakamada?

Edgeshot: They once referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter."

Ryukyuu: ...

Edgeshot: I love them so much.

Fat Gum: I’m sorry, I really flew off the handle back there. It was like the handle was a bald guy going really fast, and I was his toupée.

Someone interviewing the Lurkers: What are the hardest things to say?

Mount Lady: I was wrong.

Edgeshot: I need help.

Kamui Woods: Worcestershire sauce.

Eraserhead: You’re drunk.

Present Mic: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Shouta.

Endeavor: How did none of you hear what I just said?!

Hawks: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Best Jeanist: I got distracted halfway through.

Edgeshot: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Hawks: If you put a milkshake in one yard and crack open a cold one in another yard, which yard would the boys go to?

All Might: Schrödinger's boys.

Miruko: FUCK!

Present Mic: What about cracking open a cold milkshake?

Nighteye: As we all know, the milkshake brings the boys to the yard. The presence of the boys is a prerequisite for the cracking open of a cold one, but cold ones do not have any inherent boy-attracting abilities. Milkshakes, however, do.

Nighteye: All else being equal, the boys would proceed to the milkshake yard. While it is possible to announce the presence of cold ones in the hope of attracting some boys, the pull of the milkshake is much more powerful by comparison.

Hawks: ...

All Might: ...

Miruko: ...

Present Mic: ...

Nighteye: Mind you, all of this nonsense hinges on whether or not the boys are back in town.

[needtoloveoutloud]

Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. — MHA x fem!OC One-Shot

Characters: Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead), Nemuri Kayama (Midnight), Yoru Aizawa (fem!OC), Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic, mentioned), Oboro Shirakumo (Loud Cloud, mentioned) Hitoshi Shinso (mentioned), Yaeko Shinso (OC, Hitoshi's mother, mentioned), cats (called Sleepy, Toshi, and Cloud), Uni (Yoru's unicorn plushie), Mrs. Kubo (Yoru's kindergarten teacher, mentioned)

Summary: Yoru finds out that her Dad has a new tattoo.

Word count: ~ 2,6k

Reading time: 15–20 mins

Genre: fluff, small hints of angst (OC thinks back to a bad experience in the past)

Warnings: none, Nemuri refers to her “lady parts” in one instance, Yoru remembers a bad experience from the past

Setting: Prequel, Yoru is four years old. This story is set in the universe of my fan fiction series “Shadows of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future”. You can read it on AO3 >>here<< or find out more about it >>here<<. It can still be read as a fluffy one-shot without having read the story, though I think it feels more impactful if you at least read the prequel first.

Song: Yellow — Coldplay (link to Spotify)

Author's Note: This is based on a >>request<<. For a visual representation of Shota's tattoos, you can find them >>here<<.

Read on AO3: You can read it on AO3 >>here<<.

Don't copy, steal, or plagiarize my stuff. Please and thank you.

Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you.

Yoru knows the sounds. 

She always stays awake for them. Though, this time, trying to stay awake is a little bit more difficult after Muri read her a really nice bedtime story about a rainbow fish with colorful and glittery scales that he shared with other fish and made them happy because then every other fish looked pretty just like the rainbow fish. 

But she manages to stay awake, fighting against big yawns and heavy eyelids until she hears the sounds of heavy footsteps that try to be as quiet as possible and the rattling of keychains that sound so familiar, Yoru might even be able to mimic the sounds on her little DJ set she got from Santa a while ago. 

“Uni,” Yoru whispers. “Daddy’s home. Did you hear?”

Uni, as per usual, is more the quiet type, so she doesn’t reply, but that’s fine. Yoru knows that Uni heard Mister Caterpillar Daddy coming back home, too. Sleepy and Toshi and Cloud (all nestled around Yoru) heard him come home, too, because they make those little chirping noises that they sometimes make and that always remind Yoru of the doves in the park.

She hears him talk in a low and quiet voice with Muri for a moment, before the soft light that shines from the living room into her open bedroom gets disturbed by a tall something peeking into her room that casts a shadow on Yoru in her bed. Yoru, who’s supposed to be sleeping. 

So, she quickly shuts her eyes and pretends. 

A few moments later, the tall something that blocked the light leaves again. It’s what he always does when he isn’t home, and it’s Zashi or Muri tugging Yoru into bed. Daddy comes home, checks on Yoru, washes his hands, takes a shower and talks to Zashi or Muri before getting ready for bed himself. Or he’s looking at some boring letters or papers that Yoru’s not allowed to draw on. 

“Everything okay today?”

“Yep. An angel, as always. Look, I even got two new braids.” Muri quietly but happily seems to show off the pretty braids Yoru put into her hair after they (more Muri than Yoru) cleaned the kitchen after dinner. “Though, would you mind explaining why Yoru asked me if I would be the one training with her today?”

“She probably asked you because I was on patrol and not available.”

“That’s not what I mean, Shota. I mean, what does she mean with ‘training’?”

Pause. 

“Hand-to-hand.”

“WHAT-”

“Shhh!”

Another pause. 

Oh, no! 

Did Yoru get her Dad into trouble with Muri? Muri doesn’t sound happy. She hugs Uni a little bit tighter.

“It’s just a bit of self-defense. And she has fun while training.”

“Clearly.” Muri scoffs. “She smiled while she punched me in my lady parts.”

Pause. 

“Sorry.” A sigh. Then, another pause. “But was it a solid hit?”

“Are you- yes, it was. As well as a four-year-old can hit, at least. But that’s not the point, you idiot. She can’t go around punching people between the legs out of nowhere.”

“Well, it was training. And she knows that’s a good area to hit your opponent.”

“Yes, except, I am a woman, in case you haven’t noticed. So, I didn’t topple down like a guy who got punched in the di-”

“Kayama!” Daddy whisper shouts, stopping Muri mid-sentence. For whatever reason. It’s weird, though. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, and he doesn’t like doing it to other people, either. What was Muri about to say?

“Fine, fine, whatever. Little ears and all, I know. Anyway, how was patrol?”

“Same as always. Drunk morons, one purse-snatcher, otherwise pretty quiet.”

“Any cats?”

“Hilarious.”

“Well, were there?”

Pause. 

“Yes.”

“I knew it! And I bet you took pictures again, too, right? To show her in the morning?”

“Obviously.”

Yes! New cat pictures! Yoru loves those. Her Daddy always finds the cutest cats when he’s a hero.

But Yoru has no idea what a ‘persatcher’ is. Or was it ‘purr satcher’?

Are there people who steal cats? 

That would be scary. 

Yoru’s glad Sleepy and her children are safe and sound at home and not on the street anymore, where it’s dangerous and cold and people could snatch you and steal you anytime.

Muri breaks Yoru out of her scary memories. “But you didn’t break a sweat, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not allowed to sweat with new tattoos, right? At least for like a day or two or something?”

New tattoos? What?

“It’s actually about a week, better if you don’t excessively sweat for a couple, really. But to answer your question, no. I’ve still got the protective film dressing wrapped around it. Too soon to take it off.”

“So you’re saying she hasn’t seen it yet?”

“No.”

It takes Yoru a while to fall asleep after listening in to her Daddy’s and her Muri’s conversation about the possibility of a new tattoo (or perhaps even more than one?!) she will be able to color in soon. 

She hopes it’s as pretty as the others are. 

The next morning, after breakfast, Yoru decides it’s time to address the matter at hand. So, she strides up to her Dad, sitting on the couch. “Daddy?”

“Mhm?” He looks up from one of his books without pictures. 

“Do you have a secret?”

He furrows his brows at her in confusion. “A secret?”

“Mhm.” Yoru nods. “A new drawing.” He still looks confused, so Yoru clarifies. “Tattoo.”

He sighs, closing his book. “I do. But it seems like I’m not the only one with a secret, mhm? You pretended to be asleep last night.”

“No.”

“Yoru.”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, it was late. You need your sleep. Only because you don’t have kindergarten today doesn’t mean you should stay up late.”

“But you stay up late!” Yoru argues. 

“I am an adult. You need more sleep than I do.” Pause. His eyes trail down to Yoru’s hands, perched on his knees to hold herself up steadily. “You’re still small. If you want to grow bigger so you can learn to play the guitar, you need your sleep. Remember?”

He’s right. Yoru pouts. Her Dad sighs. 

“To answer your question,” He starts again, “Yes, I have a new tattoo. But it needs to heal more, so you can’t color it in yet.”

“Can I see?” Yoru beams up at him, trying to contain her excitement but failing. 

“It’s still wrapped in a protective film, so no. Not yet. In a few days, okay?”

“What’s a protective film?”

“It’s like a band-aid for tattoos. Helps it heal quicker.”

“Okay.” Yoru nods. “Then put more on so it heals even quickerer, Daddy. Okay?”

She’s allowed to see the new drawing on his skin a couple of days later. Not that Yoru didn’t ask every single day whether today was the day she got to see it. Even told Toshi about it in kindergarten (he thinks it's both cool and weird to have drawings on your skin that apparently never go away). 

But once Yoru sits on the floor in front of her Dad and inspects his arm, she doesn’t know what to make of it. “What is it?”

It’s a dark gray, almost black band around the muscles of his upper arm. There is a shooting star in the middle, with smaller stars around. And there’s a moon. 

“It’s the night.”

“Why do you get a drawing of the night? The night is scary.” Yoru states. “I don’t like it.”

“Mhm.” He looks at the tattoos above the new one for a moment. The ones that wrap around his arm tightly, like the hairbands Yoru keeps wrapped around her own wrist sometimes. “But you like the other ones, right?”

Yoru nods. 

“Do you know what they mean?”

She shakes her head no. 

“So, this one here is for Yamada.”

“Zashi.” Yoru corrects.

“Right.”

“Why are the suns for Zashi?”

“Because of his name. ‘Hizashi’ means ‘Sun’, ‘Sunlight’, or ‘Sunshine’. So, he gets suns.”

“Is he called that because of his pretty hair? It’s gold, like the sun.”

“No, but it would fit, wouldn’t it?”

Yoru nods. It definitely would. Zashi’s hair is beautiful and shiny and like a princess’.

“The clouds below,” Her Dad continues. “Are for Oboro.”

“Because his name means ‘Clouds’?”

“No. His hero name was ‘Loud Cloud’. So, it’s for that. He could make clouds.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. How can someone make clouds?”

“The same way Kaya- Muri can make people fall asleep, Zashi can make his voice really loud, I can stop people from using their quirks, and you can make shadow portals and go to the shadow world. It was his quirk.”

“Awesome!” Yoru proclaims, gently tracing the clouds on her Daddy’s arm.

He nods. “Indeed. He could even sit on them and fly on them.”

“That is so awesome!” Yoru repeats. “Do you think he would have let me fly on them, too?”

“No doubt. But only a meter above the ground, maximum. I don’t want you to fall off and hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” She nods. It makes sense. Yoru also wouldn’t want to get hurt. Then again, flying on a cloud sounds super cool. 

“The ones below are the phases of the moon. Those are for Kayama.”

“Muri.” Yoru corrects, again. 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do you remember her hero name?”

Yoru needs to think. Daddy’s name is Eraserhead. That, she can remember. Zashi is Presence Mike. What was Muri’s name again…?

“Midnight?” She tries. It was Midnight, wasn’t it?

“Yes, exactly. Midnight. What goes around my arm here are the phases of the moon. You know how it sometimes gets bigger, then it’s completely round, and then it gets smaller again? I thought the moon would be nicer for her than a clock that simply shows that it’s Midnight.”

Yoru agrees. Clocks are boring. “Oh, that’s true!”

There’s a moment of silence while Yoru continues to trace the drawings on her Daddy’s skin. The drawings for Zashi, and Oboro, and Muri. 

“Do you remember what Mrs. Kubo said on your first day at kindergarten?”

“Mrs. Kubo talks a lot. I can’t remember all of it.” Yoru confesses. 

“She said that your name has similar kanji to ‘compose poetry’. But that it’s main meaning is ‘night’.”

Yoru remembers now. She didn’t like it. She doesn’t like the dark, so she doesn’t like the night. The nights were the scariest when she was still sleeping in her big box in the little hidden street. And she can’t read or write yet, so the poetry thing doesn’t suit her either. 

“This tattoo is for you, Sweetheart.”

Yoru stops tracing the tattoos and stares up at her Daddy with wide eyes. “Me?”

“It’s the night." He nods. "Can you see the moon? And the shooting star? And all the little ones?”

“But it’s scary.” She mumbles, fiddling with the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting it in her fist. 

“I like it.”

“Why?”

“Because you can only see the stars at night. You can’t see them when it’s day and bright outside. You need the dark to be able to see them. Same with shooting stars. They are very rare. But you can only see them on a clear night and if the time is right. Sometimes you can only see things when it’s dark.”

“Mhm.” Yoru’s not convinced. 

“Uni’s horn shines brighter when it’s dark, right? Same with your string lights?”

That’s true. Uni’s horn is so much prettier when it’s dark. Same with her little lights. Yoru guesses he’s got a point about the stars at night, too. But there’s something else that she remembers. 

She settles down between his crossed legs, her back to his front, and gently strokes over her Daddy’s arms. “Zashi said that you get to make a wish when you see a shooting star. He read a book to me about it before bedtime a little bit ago.”

She feels her back softly vibrate with his voice when he speaks up. “Did he now?”

“Mhm.” Yoru nods. “But you’re not supposed to say what you wish for when you see a shooting star, or it won’t come true.”

“Then you get to make a wish every time you see your tattoo here.”

That makes sense. 

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I color them in? And Zashi’s sun, and Oboro’s clouds, and Muri’s moons?”

Yoru’s allowed to color the stars in two weeks later. Apparently, the tattoo needed to heal some more before any coloring could happen. 

Once her Daddy’s tattoos are completely colored in again, she proudly beams at her finished art project. “Okay, you can move again!”

He wasn’t allowed to move for a while, receiving a scolding from Yoru, who always takes her work very seriously.

Lifting his arm, he angles his head to inspect Yoru’s amazing (if she does say so herself) job. “Well done, Sweetheart.” Her Daddy shoots her one of his smiles that aren’t as big as Zashi’s or Toshi’s or Muri’s or Yeko’s, but are still very honest. “Thank you.”

“I made the stars shine!” Yoru proudly states. “Now we get to make a wish! You, too, Daddy!”

“Mhm.” He scans the room, when his eyes stop on his guitar and his lips uptick even more. “Are you in the mood for a little song?”

“My lullaby?” Yoru furrows her brows. “Is it bedtime already?”

“No, another one. I didn’t write this one, but I learned it years ago.”

“Yes!” Yoru jumps up and scrambles up on the couch, readying herself for a performance. She loves it when her Dad plays the guitar and sings for her. A few seconds later, he sits down next to her, angling his body towards her so she can see the movement of his fingers.

After tuning the guitar (he told her what that was a while ago, when she asked what he was doing), he begins to play. 

“Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along

I wrote a song for you

And all the things you do

And it was called Yellow

So then I took my turn

Oh, what a thing to have done

And it was all yellow

Your skin, oh yeah, your skin, and bones

Turn into something beautiful

And you know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so

I swam across

I jumped across for you

Oh, what a thing to do

'Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line

I drew a line for you

Oh, what a thing to do

And it was all yellow

And your skin, oh yeah, your skin, and bones

Turn into something beautiful

And you know, for you, I'd bleed myself dry

For you, I'd bleed myself dry

It's true

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine for

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And all the things that you do”

Years later, that song is set as Yoru’s morning alarm. 

It’s the first thing she hears when she wakes up to get ready for middle school. 

The first thing she hears when she wakes up to get ready for a day out with Toshi. 

And it’s the first thing she hears on her first day of U.A.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

So based on my hero, can you write a oneshot featuring Aizawa and a fab reader with hypnosis and gags please? In the story, the two are in a relationship with each other. But the reader, who's practicing hypnosis, wants to try her skills on Aizawa to which he begrudgingly accepts. So when Aizawa hears a trigger word, he'll instinctively try to gag his mouth with anything he can find. He'll be kept gagged until he hears another trigger word to turn it off. This happens during their public date. What do you think?

Pairing: Shota Aizawa x Reader

Warnings: public kink, gagging, use of hypnosis quirk

Words: 904

Shota ruefully glares at you from across the room as you chat with the your friends at the hero's gala. The crowd wasn't why Shota was on edge. There was a different reason.

He knew it would be a bad idea to let you practice your hypnosis quirk on him. His intentions were pure, wanting only to help you out. What an idiot he'd been to assume you wouldn't use this as an opportunity for mischief. You were known as a little imp. Grudgingly, his little imp nonetheless.

There should have been more ground rules laid out before hand. Both of you were already running late to the party though with you rushing Shota out the door. He would be suffering those consequences tonight.

Unfortunately when Shota catches your eyes, a catish smirk curls against your rouged lips. You touch your friend on the forearm, indicating your departure from her side. She nods to you before returning to the conversation.

You saunter over to him, wide hips swaying as you weaved through the others dancing. His cock twitches in response, remembering his hands on your bare hips as you rode him earlier that day.

"What're you doing here all by yourself, Sho?" Sweetly you bat your lashes at him while linking your arm with his and lean your head against his shoulder. A sign you were getting tired. Hope flickers in him for a moment. Maybe you'd wait to try out your quirk until tomorrow.

"What do you think? Keeping low." You notice his bloodshot eyes scan the multitudes of heads that bobbed around the gala. Most likely in search for Ms. Smile. Even aware his relationship status, Emi cared little if you were present when she flirted with Aizawa. You thought it was funny as long as she didn't take it too far. You'd even go on to tease Shota about Emi being his girlfriend which always made him recoil.

Treading lightly as to not remind you, Aizawa presses his lips to the crown of your head. Other heroes weren't the usual type of people he hung out with. Actually, he didn't like hanging out with any type of people in general except for you (and sometimes Hizashi). That's how he knew you were special. He never grew weary of your presence close to him. "Are you ready to go home?"

You reach up to caress his stubbled jawline. Heavy lines below his eyes indicated his perpetual sleepiness. To you it was a feature that made his face more handsome. Your hands slide down to readjust his tie.

A simple thing you did every time both of you went to events like these, but this was different.

Dangerous even.

"Oh Hush, Sho. We haven't said hello to Hizashi yet. You'll hurt his feelings."

There it was. The trigger word.

Immediately his throat constricts, hands trembling despite himself.

"Now when I use the trigger word 'hush', that's when you'll get the uncontrollable urge to gag yourself." you were practically singing when you briefly went over it with him during the car drive to the event. You were enjoying this a little too much.

"Gagging. Really?" The two of you had brought such a concept into play during sex. Mainly with Shota's long scarf. But he'd never shoved it into any orifice before. If he wanted to gag you, that's what the ball gag was for. And it was usually you being gagged, not Aizawa.

"I can think of something else." Flashing him a toothy grin had Shota shaking his head.

"No. . . Gagging is fine I guess."

Now in a crowd of thousands, he regrets not changing it to something tamer.

His hands feel on fire when he attempts to restrain them from reaching up to his tie, the most convenient thing available to wad up into his mouth. With your quirk, vocal cues were important but so was eye contact much like his own.

Your eyes glow when you repeat the word to activate your quirk. That's when he feels as if he's fallen asleep though his eyes were still open, slowly blinking.

"There you two are!!"

Fuck.

You turn around to greet Hizashi as if Aizawa wasn't literally struggling with his own body. But his hands were already fumbling to undo the knot of his tie.

Any noise that wasn't your voice drones out. Not even Hizashi talking to him broke past his hearing.

"Uh. . . what the fuck are you doing?" Hizashi takes a huge step back from his long time friend, a look of comical horror stuck on his face when Aizawa slips off his tie and promptly shoves the entirety of the article in his mouth. Truly concerned, he shoots over to you. "You see this right?! What's wrong with him?"

Well, safe to say my hypnosis is quite strong. You think to yourself while patting poor Hizashi to soothe him. "Oh, it's alright. Sho must be Hungry. You know the food at these things are always served in such small portions."

The very second the release word left your lips, it's like Aizawa has woken up. Hurriedly he pulls out his now damp tie.

"Yeah. Hungry." Aizawa merely hands the tie to a still petrified Hizashi and grabs your hand. "See ya later."

Once away from the flashing cameras, Aizawa growls and grabs a handful of your ass making you yelp. "You're definitely getting gagged with something when we get home."

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part 3

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Teeny bit of hurt/comfort but nothing too bad. Still very fluffy

Word Count: 7.5k

Author's Note: Part threeeeeee here we go! Fair warning, part four is gonna be heavy and sad and a little angsty. Be prepared.

Enjoy~

A phone ringing is what wakes you up. It’s not your phone, you don’t recognize the jingle poking through your sleepy haze. Something shifts beneath your body, and for a moment your brain panics, until you remember how you’d fallen asleep. Shouta’s voice filters through your brain, rough with sleep and much deeper than normal. It sends tingles down your spine. The other end of the line is filled with another voice, insanely loud and animated, and when you pry your eyes open Shouta is actually holding it about a foot from his ear as he listens with a pained expression. You can’t catch what’s being said, you’re still waking up, but Shouta clearly is not happy.

“Hizashi, it’s too damn early for you to be screaming through the phone like this.” You giggle, far too loud, and Shouta’s eyes snap down to yours. The voice on the other end of the line had cut off, but suddenly the screaming got louder somehow, and now you can hear everything he’s screaming about.

“Shouta Aizawa the sly dog you are! You didn’t tell me you were spending the night with the cutie cafe lady! Hey, what’s your name sweetheart?” Shouta groans, a muttered ‘none of your damn business’ slips out but you answer the question anyways. 

“Oh what a pretty name for a pretty lady! I’m Hizashi Yamada, but you might know me better as Present Mic, ya dig?” Yes, you did know of Present Mic. He hosts a radio show that you had tuned into at some point by accident.

“Sho, whaddya say we invite her to the Christmas party? Nemuri’s been dying to meet her!” You giggle again at the very one-sided conversation happening.

“It’s on the 20th of December, ya hear? Starts at 7 but we’ll probably be up till the sun rises. Save the date, little lady! We’ll be expecting you.” Your head falls back on Shouta’s chest, a grin spreading across your face.

“I’ll be there, Yamada-san.” He yips through the speaker, muttering something about telling Nemuri.

“And call me Hizashi. Any girlfriend of Sho’s is a dear friend of mine.” Now that makes you blush and you hide your face in Shouta’s shirt. His hand comes up to pet your hair as he finishes up the call. Whatever Present Mic had called for he couldn’t remember, and Shouta being annoyed decided just to hang up with the other hero still mid-sentence. His eyes slide closed, a deep sigh escaping him.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Peeking from your little hiding spot on his chest, you giggle again.

“It’s alright. It’s probably not that early, considering how bright it is outside.” A long groan rumbles beneath you, deep in his chest. 

“Still too early. It’s Saturday, I get to sleep in.” His arms tighten around you, trapping you in his hold. You’re probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, considering you’d gotten a full night’s rest, but you keep that to yourself. Instead you wriggle in his hold and lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek, burying your head in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He holds you tight again, sinking into the couch and almost instantly knocking out. He’s peaceful, like this, relaxed and blissfully asleep. You close your eyes and bask in his warmth, feeling his arms where they remain locked around your waist, feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, listen to his rolling snores. It seems you were wrong about falling asleep, since you have no idea how much time has passed in your pseudo-nap when Shouta’s waking you up, peppering small kisses over your face and rubbing your back with one large, warm hand.

“You know you’re really cute when you’re drooling on my shirt.” Heat blooms up your face and you quickly reach to wipe at your mouth. There’s a teeny wet spot on his chest where you were just lying, and you bury your face once again. He laughs, but doesn’t comment any more on it.

“Are you hungry?” Yeah, you could definitely eat, so you nod. He shifts then, and you’re ready to climb off him when he decides to pick you up and take you with him, his hands strong beneath your thighs and you have to throw your arms around his neck. Mostly to stay upright, although with all the strength a pro-hero has he seems to be holding your weight with ease. He sets you on the kitchen counter, leaving a sweet peck on your lips, before digging through your fridge and cabinets to throw together a small breakfast. He doesn’t let you help, whenever you jump off the counter he just grabs you by the waist, plants you right back in your spot and holds you there until you stop fighting him.

“Shouta, you can’t expect me to sit here and just watch you make me breakfast.” He laughs.

“First of all, I’m making us breakfast. Second, you can and you will sit there and watch. I’m allowed to spoil you.” He eyes your pout, leaning up to kiss it away. The kiss is far too distracting, and he’s getting far too comfortable using that to his advantage. Bastard.

“I could argue you already spoiled me last night with the date. And the date before that. And all of the meals you make me when you sleep over. Not to even mention the-” One large hand slaps over your mouth, and his face is inches away as he stares you down with feigned annoyance.

“Alright, I get it.” The hand on your face turns and grips your cheeks, making your lips pout, and he leaves a cute peck on your lips. He’s getting awfully liberal with the kisses. Not that you mind.

“I’m still allowed to spoil you.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Because I’m your girlfriend?” His expression falls at that, his face bright red, hands grabbing at your thighs. His eyes can’t seem to meet yours and you have to fight the grin that tugs at your mouth, it’s cute seeing him nervous.

“I never really cared about labels.” You hum softly, threading your fingers into his hair and using the band on your wrist to tie it behind his head in an attempt to help him relax. His eyes close and he leans into your touch, so hopefully it worked.

“Well it’s a good thing I also never cared much for labels.” His thick, rough fingertips squeeze the pudge of your thighs, and he looks both relieved and skeptical. Maybe he’d read this tale before, heard this song, seen this dance. 

“That’s it? You don’t mind that I’m not going to be calling you my girlfriend?” He seems to relax at the way you smile and shake your head.

“As long as it’s not an insult, I don’t care what you call me.” It’s easy to laugh when he does, and even easier to lean into the kiss he presses to your temple. You can’t help the way you cling to him, your arms tight around his neck and your legs clamping around his waist to lock your ankles together behind him. It feels nice to be close like this, just existing in each other’s orbit. Counting the days since you’d been this close with someone was impossible, it’s been so long. His own arms are tight around your waist as he tugs you even closer and tucks his face in your neck. It’s an intimate moment, one you want to exist in forever. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t give any kind of response, but really he doesn’t need to. Clearly he’s content just to be here with you, as you are, together. 

The rest of the day is spent lounging around the apartment without breaking contact. Neither of you can seem to separate from the other unless the bathroom is involved, and your shift in the cafe is spent wondering when Shouta would return from his patrol. You can’t seem to resist the urge to invite him up once again, and you spend another night together. This time you sleep in your bed, the soft mattress much more comfortable than the couch. You wish it could last a little longer, the time you spend tangled together, but all things must come to an end one way or another. Weeks pass, weekends are spent together in your apartment, weekdays are spent in fleeting moments between his busy work life and your duties to the cafe. Another date is set up at a renowned restaurant, a beautiful dinner in a booth to yourselves. It was fancy enough to warrant that dress Rika was dead set on getting you to wear around Shouta, and when he’d picked you up he was stunned for just a moment. You won’t lie to yourself, it made you feel gorgeous.

The snow gets deeper, the nights get longer, and Shouta’s patrols start to get called off due to the weather being unpredictable. Heavy snow wouldn’t be good for a hero like him, pros like Endeavor were probably better equipped for the snow, not to mention the crime rate would drop if weather conditions were bad enough. Not even villains would dare move in a blizzard at midnight. Those days are a godsend, where you get to cuddle up with Shouta in bed and soak in the warmth his body radiates, spending lazy snow days curled up on the couch sipping hot chocolate or coffee. Before you know it, it’s almost Christmas. You’ve already got Rika’s present, and also Shouta’s, though his is a simple cat-shaped mug since he never seems to express any want for things at this point in your relationship. In fact, the one thing he’s never been shy about expressing is his desire to cling to you. He’s always trying to touch you, hold you, kiss you, hug you. He loves to be in physical contact with you, that’s the one thing you absolutely do know. Even while he’s busy cooking, one hand is always touching some part of you. Whether it be holding your hand, gripping your thigh, or looped around your waist, he’s always on you. 

You don’t mind one bit.

With Christmas coming up, that party is also looming around the corner. And you weren’t entirely sure about…well, anything. Was there a dress code? A theme? You definitely had to ask Shouta some questions. You’d already gone through a vetting process for all the plus-ones that weren’t registered pros. It was a formality, one you really didn’t mind, and it was quick and easy. Rika had two different outfits already planned for you, all put together on pinterest, both including a floor-length body con dress, deep red in color, with a high slit and a low sweetheart neckline. One outfit included a white fur coat to go with a christmas theme, another included a black trenchcoat and a black mask for a masquerade. You sent it all to Shouta for color coordination, only to be caught completely off guard by the response.

Apparently the event is sponsored by a designer brand that had a contract with all the pros, which meant all of the clothing for the event would be tailored and made for all attendees. Free of charge, since the publicity alone was more than enough compensation for them every year. Which means you have to send in all your measurements and then schedule a fitting within the next two weeks, which shouldn’t be hard. The fitting is scheduled for Friday, and both you and Shouta are expected to be there. He’d explained this was going to be like a dress rehearsal of sorts, where they’d completely doll you both up as if it were party night, and adjust everything accordingly. Their goal is to make you look like you belong together, a matching set that shouldn’t be separated. 

And that’s exactly what they do. Your hair, makeup, even your shoes and jewelry are all chosen carefully and meticulously, laid over your skin with such precision and purpose it’s hard to move for fear of disturbing the sheer art they’d created on your body. It took hours, but at the end of it your outfits were completed. You barely recognized yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, makeup not at all like you’d normally wear, and that dress. It was some kind of satin or silk, the way it draped over every one of your curves looked and felt a lot like water flowing down a creek. Your shoes were simple, short two-inch black velvet pumps, closed-toe and round, with all the cushion they could fit in there. Even as comfortable as they seem right now, you’re sure they’ll be off within three hours of the party. 

Shouta looks just as over-the-top as you do, pitch black suit embossed with intricate swirling patterns and a red dress shirt to match you. A single red rose peeks from his breast pocket, adorned with accents of baby’s breath. His hair is pulled back into a half-up half-down and he’s clean shaven. It’s strange, seeing his face like that, but it’s not at all bad. But you do have a question for him, seeing as you’re getting so dolled up for what you thought was a simple Christmas party.

“So, how big is this party, exactly? I mean, if this brand is getting publicity then it’s got to be pretty big.” Shouta’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, and he shares an apologetic look.

“Pretty big. Most top pros will be there, including all the teachers from UA and Shiketsu High. Paparazzi will be outside waiting for an exclusive, but you won’t have to worry too much about that. They don’t bother with the less popular pros or the undergrounds.” Well shit. Yeah, you’re glad you’re not currently dating a top pro. The paparazzi alone would probably send you running.

“That’s…a little bigger than I expected.” You can’t help but laugh, breathless, just a little bit nervous. Shouta’s hand is warm on your shoulder as he turns you toward him, the calluses rough on your skin where his fingertips squeeze and dig into your flesh. It’s comforting, and the fire his touch lights under your skin distracts you just enough from the anxiety. Dark eyes bore into your own, soft and gentle and deep.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. You can back out right now if you feel uncomfortable.” He really is just so sweet to you. A smile breaks onto your face, and your nerves settle.

“And miss a chance to wear clothes like these, even for one night? Not a chance.” His chuckle is warm as he turns back to the mirror, allowing the tailors to fuss over the both of you one last time. You’re surprised the garments already fit so well after only sending in body measurements and several different-angled pictures of you posed in a very specific manner. The hem on your dress was going to be shortened by about an inch, and Shouta’s suit was going to be taken in at the waist just a bit, but other than that everything fit like a glove. Surprisingly, it took a lot longer to disassemble than it took to get into everything, especially when the design team didn’t want you touching anything, so you were literally undressed by a team of women that took extra care with every piece of your outfit. You weren’t even allowed to wipe the makeup off your face or take your hair down, though as far as the hair goes you might have ended up just ripping a few chunks out anyways, whether by accident or out of frustration. You and Shouta went and got something to eat, after six hours of clothing and makeup and all that craziness you were both starving.

“What do you feel like eating?” That’s a great question. One you don’t really know how to answer at the moment. You aren’t really craving anything, but you are definitely hungry.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” He sighs in mock disappointment, and you can’t help but giggle at the exaggerated slump in his shoulders.

“I asked you because I didn’t know what I wanted. You were supposed to give me an answer, you know.” Playfully, you roll your eyes.

“Well I guess we’re in the same boat then, aren’t we?” Still, you are hungry. Thankfully your savior comes in the form of a hole-in-the-wall joint you just happen to be approaching. Your head tilts as you peer in the windows, signs for what looks like Korean style food piquing your interest. You grab Shouta’s shoulder and motion toward the small restaurant, and he nods in agreement to the unasked question before tugging the door open for you. Inside it’s warm, you have to immediately begin shucking off your heavy winter coats, and it smells wonderful, like spices and sauces and the savory scent of tender meat. You’re greeted and then sat at a small booth by the stewardess, who seems to also be a waitress and possibly more. She’s all over the place, but in no particular rush, doing odd jobs between taking your order and serving the few others in the shop. It’s quiet, the lull of the music over the speakers and the warm yellow of the lights overhead make it cozy, the well-worn cracked booth seats and the pathing worn into the tiles give a homely atmosphere.

“I’m not usually around this part of town for anything other than work. I’m glad you spotted this place.” Shouta remarks, sipping at his water. 

“I can’t say I’m out here very often at all. Most of my time is spent at the cafe, but you know that already.” He nods, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. While you’re waiting for the food, you’ve got a few burning questions about this party.

“So, the paparazzi are going to be everywhere, and I know they probably won’t be super interested in the teachers and undergrounds. But let’s say we do, by whatever random chance, get interviewed. What should I say, and what should I not say?” His hum is contemplative as he thinks about your question, elbows on the table and hands clasped beneath his chin.

“I’d say there isn’t much for you to really worry about. If anything they’re going to ask who you are in relation to me, and that’s an easy question to answer.” That’s fair, you’re going to be his plus-one, or his date, depending on which comes out easier.

“Anything else would be weird to ask. They can’t ask about your career as a hero, they don’t know who you are. You don’t want to give any personal information, so it’s best not to mention the cafe at all just in case. But honestly, I’m nowhere near the spotlight for these things. I’m a small fry compared to the publicity these stations will want from the top heroes.” That is also fair. With your questions answered your nerves have settled fully, and your food has been set at your table. The meal is wonderful, and the sun slowly begins to set as you exit the restaurant. It’s Friday, which means you get to relax after that mess of a day, and Shouta of course takes the opportunity to sleep in your bed once again since he’d scheduled an off night for patrols. After the fitting you’re sure he’s exhausted, if only from the socialization and the constant hands and voices. 

Weeks go by in anticipation for the party, but it all goes in a bit of a blur. The night of the party approaches way too fast for your liking, and all the nerves come back to you at once as you’re sitting in the blacked out SUV beside Shouta, the both of you dolled up exactly as you’d been during the fitting. Your knee bounces, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and your fingers can’t keep still in your lap. There’s a small throb in your temple and you fight yourself not to rub at your face and ruin the makeup, the only respite you can find is to shut your eyes to block out the light of the setting sun. Suddenly your hands are wrapped tight in a pair of much larger, warmer, callused hands, and when you peek over at Shouta he’s got a small apologetic smile adorning his lips. 

“Do you want to go home? We can skip this whole thing.” When you shake your head you try your best not to dislodge your hairstyle, though with the amount of hairspray and gel and pins the stylists used it’s hard to believe it’d move even if you were to get into a wrestling match.

“No, we’re already this far in. I’ll be okay once we get inside and get some water.” He squeezes your hands in his, thumbs pressing into the backs of your hands soothingly.

“Okay.” There’s silence as you breathe in his presence, allowing his small gesture on your hands to calm you just enough. You focus on your breathing, squeezing his hands in the same rhythm your chest rises and falls. It helps. Just as your heart rate steadies in your chest, the vehicle slows to a stop. You make the mistake of looking out the window and all you can see is a long red carpet laid over an elaborate staircase, the sides absolutely swarmed by people kept at bay by the gold-colored railings and a few men in simple suits that must be some type of security. Not that a ballroom full of pros really needed security. Still, the sight of the people and the cameras and all the commotion as a couple disappear at the top of the stairs, into the building, makes your heart slam against your ribcage.

“Shouta…” His fingers grip your own tight.

“Yes?” He’s waiting, patiently, while your mind kicks into gear. He wants to know if you’re about to tap out completely, and he’d back you up completely no matter your decision. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

“I’m ready.” He smiles, nods, then opens the door and steps out into the fray. One hand reaches in for you, helping you out of the vehicle and into the open. Voices and camera shutters and flashes overload all of your senses, and for a second you feel yourself begin to panic. That headache is making a comeback, your hand shaking where it’s wrapped in Shouta’s, and you think your lungs are starting to burn but you’re having a hard time thinking about what your body’s doing when there’s so much going on. Shouta steps into your space, a hand on your lower back and the other gently cupping your neck where the makeup isn’t as heavy and easy to muss. His scent is calming, petrichor and earthy tones soothing you.

“Hey, look at me.” He’s positioned himself so all the flashes are blocked by his broad shoulders, his entire frame shielding you from all the chaos. You meet his eyes as they bore down into you, studying your face and smoothing a thumb along your jugular.

“Are you alright?” Yeah…you think you might be alright now. You nod, allowing yourself to relax in his hold.

“We have to go up there, okay?” You blink, nod again. Breathe.

“Try to smile for the cameras. I’ll be right here with you, just squeeze my arm until we’re through the door, then we’re home free.” You take one last shuddering breath, and nod one last time. Breathe. Smile. Shouta’s here. He turns, holding his arm out for you to take. Looping your arm in his, you begin to walk up the carpet toward the building. The voices of the crowd and the flashes of the paparazzi are disorienting, but you cling to Shouta and focus on his scent, on the light cologne that’s been sprayed onto his skin. Your eyes lock onto the top stair, on the light beaming from inside the massive doorway. It feels like you’re walking for hours, taking slow steady steps up the carpet. Shouta’s hand lands on yours where it’s resting on his elbow, thumb once again soothing over your skin. If he weren't here you aren’t sure you’d still be awake right now. It’s all so overwhelming, but him being here makes it easier. A surprise awaits you at the top step, what looks like a singular reporter with her team standing alone, apart from the crowd of paparazzi that swarm around the railings barricading the carpet. Her smile is wide, bright, practiced and probably a habit by now. Her short-cropped baby blue hair is perfect, not a hair out of place, the suit jacket and pencil skirt she wears is a deep navy to contrast her hair and fair complexion. Her lipstick is vibrant red, a pop of color in her otherwise monotone appearance. 

You know this woman, an anchor for one of the largest news stations in Japan. Her eyes, a striking vibrant green, lock onto Shouta, then directly onto you.

“And my goodness, what a wonderful surprise! Eraserhead has a date tonight! Eraserhead please tell us who this wonderful woman is that made you finally break your streak attending solo?” You glance up at him, gauging his reaction. There is none, not really, his expression plain and his voice monotone.

“She’s simply my date.” A smile edges its way onto your face at his bluntness. The rumors about him not liking paparazzi must be true, he’s not even giving them an inch to work with. The reporter seems to know this, and decides to turn to you for any kind of insider into the elusive Eraserhead’s love life.

“What name should I call the woman that caught the infamous Eraserhead’s attention?” The mic is suddenly in your face, and you’ve been put on the spot. Vaguely, you recall Shouta’s advice about personal information. 

“Oh! Well, I’m y/n,” you decide to only give them your first name, “And I wouldn’t say I caught his attention. We just happened to get to know each other.” Her eyebrows raise, her shoulders lifting and animating her features even further.

“You don’t say! How did you two meet?” Ah, this probably isn’t the best question to answer. Shouta squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back. You can handle this. You think.

“Well as it happens we actually met at a random cafe by chance. He came in covered in bruises and his arm in a sling, and he needed help opening a bottle of eyedrops.” You cover your mouth and giggle just a tad at the memory. Technically, you weren’t lying. The reporter gasps, speaking toward the camera.

“A cafe meet-cute? What a love story! What happened next?” Shouta clears his throat then, leaning down to the mic.

“We have a party to attend.” That’s all he says before practically dragging you beside him, leaving the poor reporter to pick up the pieces of the makeshift interview. You twist around to wave at her and she waves back before preparing for the next hero pairing to walk up those stairs. Refocusing, you turn to Shouta.

“How was that?” He hums, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not bad. A little too close to the truth, in my personal opinion, but not bad.” You nudge him with your shoulder as you walk.

“Hey, I was put on the spot back there, what did you expect?” His smile is small, but unmistakable. With all the panic of the outside left behind, your nerves stop trying to fry you alive, and Shouta’s hand remains glued to your own as you make your way to the ballroom. It’s already full of heroes, all decked out to the nines in an array of red, green, gold, white, and silver hues. The high ceiling of the ballroom is dotted with crystal chandeliers, the yellow-white glow casting a comfortable light over the room. You’re being tugged along the wall, away from the main commotion, until you stop before a man and a woman. You recognize both of them. The man’s long, blonde hair is slicked back into a low ponytail, hypnotic green eyes smiling down at you as he reaches his hand out for you to shake. His suit is pale gold, a white dress shirt and bright yellow tie matching his vibrant hair and personality. Present Mic’s voice isn’t amplified when he speaks.

“Well would you look at that! You’re just as pretty as I thought you’d be. Hizashi Yamada, it’s wonderful to officially meet you.” You smile at him and return the sentiment. The woman slides up beside him, her long dark hair flowing wild and free. The dress she wears is skin tight, deep red at the top fading into a midnight blue at the bottom. How fitting. Midnight reaches a hand toward you, taking yours when you go to shake her hand and instead pressing a kiss to your knuckles. It isn’t seductive, it’s almost chivalrous and even sweet, but she’s gorgeous, and you can’t help the tiny spark of heat that climbs up your neck.

“I’m Nemuri Kayama. I’ve been dying to meet the girl that got Shouta Aizawa of all people to finally think about romance for once.” Heat creeps over your cheeks and you try your best to hide your smile.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m just happy to be here.” Shouta’s arm slips from yours, his voice low and gentle in your ear. The smallest of goosebumps crawl over your skin at the smooth baritone.

“Did you still want that water?” You nod and he’s gone in an instant, not without pressing a small kiss to your hairline. It’s hard to peel your eyes from his back as he disappears into the crowd of heroes, but you have two pros here who want to talk with you. When you turn back to the two, their smiles are huge and almost satisfied. Hizashi leans over, almost whispering as if Shouta could hear from wherever he’d disappeared to.

“He’s gentle, with you. He’s usually so stiff, so cold and indifferent sometimes. But with you he’s…softer. He likes you a lot.” Your cheeks start to hurt, the way you're smiling so hard.

“I hope so. Or the dates would be a little facetious.” Nemuri’s turn to talk, her eyebrows raised and a grin across her painted lips.

“Dates? He’s taken you on more than one?” Uh oh.

“Oh…yes? Actually we’ve been on three, maybe four? Not counting everything in between.” Hizashi’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Between? What happened in between?” He really hasn’t told these people anything, huh? A piece of you wonders why he’d keep you so secret, why he wouldn’t tell the two people he seemed closest to. Sure he’s a hero, and you don’t care about the public’s opinion…but not even his friends know? You aren’t sure which one notices your discomfort first, but they both back off with a shared glance. Nemuri’s hand smooths over your shoulder, a comforting gesture.

“It’s none of our business anyways. He’ll tell us when he wants to tell us.”

“Tell you what?” You jump at the closeness in Shouta’s voice, and the hint of coldness in the timbre makes your heart squeeze. You don’t really want to look at him for fear of your expression betraying your stress, but he’s making his way to your side with a glass of water held before you. You take it without a word, only a small nod in thanks, before sipping from the straw to try to alleviate the slow resurfacing of that damned headache. The lights feel too bright, the room feels like it’s shrinking, the air is starting to suffocate you and the coolness of the glass and the small bit of condensation that’s gathered on your fingers are the only things that seem to be helping. Somewhere in your brain you try to remind yourself that you should be enjoying the party, but you can’t seem to focus anymore.

With your gaze hard focused on the rippling water, you can’t see the way his eyes narrow at you, then at his two friends. You jump again at the feeling of Shouta’s hand on your waist, tugging you into his side. It’s protective, the way he almost wraps completely around you, and his face is all too close to yours when he leans over and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“What happened? Are you alright?” His voice is so tender, so soft, and those damn eyes draw you in when you can’t keep your gaze away. Concern is laced both in his words and his voice, and if you’d been paying attention to anything other than his face you’d see the way he curls his body over yours. Even as upset as you’d just been, you can’t seem to help the way your chest fills with warmth, the same way the sun warms your skin on a cool fall day. Maybe you’re overthinking things. You can’t bring yourself to stay upset, not when he’s looking at you like he’s terrified you’d slip through his fingers if he so much as breathed the wrong way. You reach up and take his hand from your chin, lacing your fingers in his and smiling softly at him.

“I’m alright, Shouta. It’s nothing we need to talk about right now.” Yes, the conversation can wait for when you’re not in the public eye, wait for when you’re comfortable and can focus on the conversation and you can sort your emotions out. For now, you both need to enjoy the party. He seems skeptical, but he lets it go, leaving a kiss on your hand and returning to the two other heroes. They’re both trying hard to bite back their smirks, then school their expressions once Shouta turns fully around. Hizashi makes a move suddenly, clearing his throat and outstretching a hand toward you, palm up.

“Care to dance, little lady?” You spare a glance at Shouta, who seems skeptical but releases his hold on you so you can take Hizashi’s hand and allow him to sweep you up into the dancing crowd. You wave back at Shouta and Nemuri with a smile as you disappear and lose them between the bodies. Now settled in a small gap between dancing heroes, Hizashi’s arm slips around the higher part of your waist and his other hand slips into yours. It’s a polite hold, keeping the space between you maintained but not uncomfortable. His smile is infectious as he swings you around to the beat of the high-tempo music. You can’t help the way you giggle and squeal quietly every time he spins you both around and animates the dance. It’s uncoordinated, unrehearsed, he practically drags you around with the strength of a pro-hero. But it’s fun, and you’re laughing as you both jump and spin around until the music finally slows a bit, a controlled pace to allow you to catch your breath. Hizashi seems unaffected, but that’s not surprising. Pro heroes have an insane amount of stamina. You’re still breathing a little heavily when he speaks.

“Hey, don’t take Shouta’s secrecy to heart. He’s a very private person, even with his closest friends.” You have to blink away your shock at just how perceptive he is. Your dance moves have slowed, relaxed as you both turn around an axis aimlessly.

“I…yeah, you’re probably right. You know him better than I do.” He smiles, gentle and kind.

“I sure hope so. We graduated from UA together.” The sentiment puts a waver in his voice, a sound that’s suspiciously close to sadness. As curious as you are, you don’t pry.

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. He’s got his reasons, and if you were to ask there’s no reason he wouldn’t tell you. Besides…” he leans in just a little closer, whispering like Shouta could hear his every word if he didn’t, “Between you and me, I think he’s grown very attached to you.” That sentiment makes you smile despite your small worry. It’s good to know that, at the very least, he’s not afraid to show his affection for you.

“Thank you, Hizashi.” He pulls away, holding your hand out as he bows before you.

“But of course, little lady.” His eyes flick to something over your shoulder, and before you can turn to look, a large hand smooths over your skin, warm and callused. You know that hand, know the weight, know the feel, know the way his fingertips gently dig into your flesh like you’d vanish if he didn’t. His voice is in your ear.

“Mind if I take over?” Hizashi grins, then disappears into the crowd as Shouta takes his place. Shouta’s arms snake around your body, his hold much more tender, much more comfortable, than Hizashi’s. The arm on your waist sits lower at the small of your back, the hand holding yours is tighter, the space between you is almost nonexistent. If you were to lean in any closer your chests would touch. The music has slowed significantly, Shouta leading you in a slow sway back and forth. You can’t tear your gaze away from his eyes, those deep onyx irises drawing you in. If you weren’t careful you were going to get lost in them, in the adoration and devotion. Part of you wants to think you see love in those eyes of his.

“How are you feeling?” You blink away your daze, smile up at him softly.

“I’m alright. What about you?” His eyes dart down to your mouth when you speak, then back up to meet your eyes to answer.

“Not too bad. I kind of hate these parties, but I’ve been told it’s good for PR.” You can’t help but giggle at his bluntness.

“Well I hope it’s not too bad this time.” His hum is low, it vibrates through your skin.

“Just because you’re here. If you said no to the invite I’d have just skipped it altogether this year.” You roll your eyes playfully at the sentiment, even though you’re sure he’s far from lying. The silence that settles over the two of you is comfortable and warm. You can’t keep your eyes off of him, he’s just so handsome. And there’s something lingering in his gaze that you can’t place, something heated and deep. His hand is warm on the small of your back, his body heat seeping through the material of your dress. The hand you have on his shoulder is compelled to move, turning to gently cup his jaw and neck. There’s a gravity that’s pulling you into him, you can feel your heart tugging you closer. Your chest presses into his, your legs tangling together as you sway gently back and forth. Heat crawls through your veins, your entire body warming beneath Shouta’s careful watch. Every piece of you that touches him feels like it's on fire in the best way. As you rock here, back and forth, it’s like the rest of the room disappears completely. Only the two of you exist, in the small bubble you’ve created. You think briefly, with him, falling in love won’t be so bad.

You dance together until the music changes completely to something more upbeat, and then you retreat back to Hizashi and Nemuri. Both have a small plate of appetizers and a small glass of what looks to be some kind of punch. After you go get your own plate, it’s another hour or so before the real dinner portion of the night. Hizashi and Nemuri ask a lot of questions, most of which you look to Shouta whether or not you should answer. You understand he has a reason for keeping his love life private, and you aren’t inclined to disrupt that pattern even if you don’t know the reason why. It’s a long, drawn out party, and soon after you finish your dinner and conversations you’re beginning to feel tired and your mind is struggling with the cacophony of voices and lights and people. Your headache is making one hell of a comeback, and you have to take the time to decompress a little in the bathroom where it’s quiet. Shouta is waiting for you outside in the hallway, and when he asks if you’re alright you can’t help that you answer honestly. 

You hate to leave so early in the night, but the two of you have expended your social batteries. The ride back to Shouta’s is quiet, but comfortable. In the back of your mind you think about the events of the night, about the news of his close friends knowing next to nothing about you and Shouta’s relationship. The night was a good buffer, a distraction enough, calming your nerves and helping to sort your thoughts on the matter. It’s a long, slow fifteen minutes to get completely undressed and de-glammed, and even after that you have to go take a shower to get all of the product out of your hair and off your face. You haven’t been over to his apartment at all since the first dinner date, so you end up borrowing his clothes, not that you mind at all. They smell like him, like his subtle deodorant and it mixes with the shampoo you’ve just used. You’re surrounded completely by him, and all the stress of the night dissipates like fog in the morning sun. 

He’s in and out of the shower himself, and when he emerges from the steamy room you’re waiting at the small dining table with two cups of tea. You smile, tired and soft, but it’s a smile nonetheless. A smile he happily returns as he drags his chair to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking your head against his shoulder. It’s domestic, like all the late weekend mornings you’ve been spending together sipping coffee. Calm like the afternoons spent curled around each other while a cheesy Christmas movie drones on in the background of your random conversations. Sweet like the innocent kisses you’ve been sharing as you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs. Shouta’s voice is rough with excessive use after the party, the sip of tea he’d taken soothing his throat as he clears it.

“There’s something on your mind. Is it about Hizashi and Nemuri?” You nod, take a sip of your own tea and rest back on his shoulder.

“Not about them, per say, but when we got talking I noticed they knew next to nothing about me. About our relationship.” He hums, taking the time to smooth his hand over your skin beneath his shirt, his calluses lightly scraping at your waist. It was grounding.

“Are you upset about it?” You shake your head, peering up at him. You really aren’t, not anymore, not after giving it real thought.

“No. I know you probably have your reasons, but at the moment it did sting a little. They seem to be really close to you, so I wondered why you’d want to hide me from them.” Another hum, another sip of tea.

“It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t intend on hiding you at all. They knew about the first date because they’d suggested it.” You nod against his shoulder, both your hands gingerly wrapped around your cup to warm your fingertips. He continues.

“After that they’d never asked, and I never thought to tell them. It didn’t seem  relevant to them, and they’ve got their own lives to worry about.” That makes sense. You still aren’t upset about it. 

“Thank you for explaining that, Shouta.” It’s easy to lean up and leave a peck on his cheek. It’s almost habitual, the way you leave a little piece of you against his skin. His returning kiss on your temple is just as easy to lean into, stealing another tiny piece of him.

“And maybe I thought for a moment that I’d like to keep you to myself for a little while longer.” He’s bashful when he admits it, warmth crawling up his face and he can’t quite keep his eyes on you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt on your hip. You never thought you’d even describe a pro hero like him as ‘cute’, but here you are. 

“Maybe I’m okay with that.” Another kiss, this time on the lips, soft and warm and gentle. You finish your tea and make your way to bed, getting comfortable in the thick blanket Shouta keeps for winter. Tonight may have been hectic and panic-inducing at times, but there’s no place you’d rather be than right here in Shouta’s arms.