#when aizawa is. definitely NOT the right adult for this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 year

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HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: This took fucking FOREVER to type. Y'all know how much time smut AND action sequences take?? Please be nice to me. -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

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EIGHTEEN.

Aizawa waits for you that night at the opera, and you appear out of the darkness to meet him.

Literally. You’ve been hiding in the shadows of the alleyway across the street for nearly fifteen minutes after shifting out of your cat form.

You watch him now from the alleyway, anxiety mingled with arousal in your body at the sight of him. He looks absolutely scrumptious in his fly-ass black Armani suit, red bottom shoes, and low ponytail as he leans against the wall, one foot up and scanning the streets. He fits right in with the gaudy, wealthy folks that pull up to the theatre in their expensive cars.

You hope to fit in with the crowd too, especially since you’re undercover. You look into the window of the shop you stand beside, the woman reflecting back at you looking nothing like you. She wears a slim red dress that highlights her complexion and gives the illusion of an hourglass shape.

The push-up bra she wears allows her breasts to sit perfectly in the sweetheart bosom of the dress, the rest of it sleeveless. Her braids are pulled back in a carefully-braided French braid that exposes her dangling gold earrings, matching choker, and glamorous makeup–dark eyeshadow; blush; red lipstick.

She made sure to disguise herself as much as possible. She stands tall in her pumps that are hidden under the floor-length skirts that she has to hold up in order to walk.

She looks sexy; alluring; classy. Like an old movie star or a model straight out of the 1950s. And she’s you. Just like that, the fight earlier with Nemuri leaves your mind and all you can think about is tonight.

After taking a deep exhale and saying a quiet pep talk in your head, you take a handful of your dress and strut across the street once it is safe to do so. You don’t stop or pause in fear of changing your mind or letting your anxiety get the best of you. You keep your eyes firmly on Aizawa and your mind on the mission. When Aizawa sees you, his eyes widen an inch. They skate down your body and up and down, taking in every feature of you.

“Wow,” he exhales.

Your heart slows somewhat at the sound of his voice and the astonishment in his gaze. ”Well, that definitely calms my nerves,” you giggle, poking his chest with your clutch. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Already, you feel the anxiety you felt earlier leave you.

Aizawa goes to say more, possibly something dirty, but stops, his face looking incredibly irked. “Hang on,” he grumbles. He presses against his ear where an earpiece sits, noticeable to only you.

“Yeah?” he curtly asks the person in his ear. “Yeah, I just got here. The show hasn’t started yet, so I don’t think he’s inside yet, but I’ll check.” He takes his fingers off of his ear and tiredly sighs. “Sorry. Damn cops keep buggin’ me about our target.”

That anxiety that comes from reality comes rising back within you. You nearly forgot that you aren’t here for a regular date. “They don’t know I’m here too?” you ask.

“No, but you can talk freely,” Aizawa replies. They can only hear me when I press the button on my earpiece.” He pauses to check his watch, pulling back his suit sleeve to do so. “The show doesn’t start for another twenty minutes so we have time to plan everything. Come on.” He presents you with his elbow and you take it, placing your hand on his arm.

He escorts you towards the cherrywood double doors of the theatre where a line has already formed near the ticket booths. All you see are people in the most expensive of gowns and designer suits, dripping in finery and wealth.

With Aizawa by your side, so calm and collected, you feel as if you could fit in, at least for tonight. You can play the part well if it means completing this mission. When you and Aizawa finally arrive at the booth, you’re all smiles with your back straight and shoulders squared.

“Good evening!” the young man at the booth cheerfully says. “How can I help you?”

“Two tickets, please,” Aizawa replies, barely cracking a smile.

The young man luckily doesn’t take fear as Aizawa pulls his credit card out of his pocket and hands it over to the young man who completes the transaction. “Enjoy the show!” He chirps as he hands Aizawa two tickets. You give him a grateful smile before Aizawa whisks you away towards the theatre.

There are several entrances into the theatre depending on which floor one is on, and each one has people flooding in. You try to get a quick look at each person’s face or demeanor, searching for something that makes you feel slightly off or unnatural.

You don't realize that you are gripping Aizawa’s arm until he visibly winches. You look down, finding your claws digging into his suit jacket and possibly scratching his skin. “I’m so sorry!” you gasp, horrified at yourself. You quickly let go of him and retract your claws, furious at yourself for acting so paranoid.

Aizawa peers down at you, his brows furrowed in concern. “You okay, kitty?” he worriedly murmurs to you. You plaster on a reassuring smile, hoping he doesn't see through you. “I’m fine!” you squeak out. “Just…I’ve never been to an opera before. Or around all these rich folks.”

But that doesn’t fool him for a second. “That ain’t it,” he grumbles, turning around to fully face you. You lower your head in shame, knowing damn well trying to lie was a foolish idea. “You nervous about tonight?” he softly asks. “Y/N, if you don’t want to do this, you know you can–”

“No,” you firmly respond, fixing your eyes up at him. “I’m not leaving. You didn’t have to let me come along tonight, but you did. The least I can do is see this through.”

The worry in Aizawa’s eyes only makes you feel worse. You don’t want to disappoint him or make him feel as if you’re not fit for this, but you also don't want to deceive him any more than you already have. The least you can do is tell him how you feel.

Embarrassment blooms inside of you, making you flush in your pretty gown. “I just don’t wanna fuck up,” you softly confess. “I wanna be good for you.” You feel weak; useless. You wither like a pretty, red flower, feeling oh-so horrible in your dress.

Aizawa suddenly takes your hand and you see an intensity in his charcoal eyes. “Come here,” he demands, already snatching you off to the side. “Where there are no eyes.”

You have no choice but to follow him as he leads you away from the doorway to the theatre and down an empty hall. You’re breathing heavily, your calves aching to catch up with his long strides. “Where are we going, Shouta?” you demand, utterly confused. “What if the villain is here?”

“Even if he is, he won’t attack until the show starts and the lights are off,” he replies, still focused on moving. “It’s called ‘the element of surprise’.”

He suddenly pauses and you nearly crash into him. You watch as he pushes open the door to an empty inclusive bathroom. “In here,” he mutters, holding the door open for you. Though you’re still confused, you tip-toe into the bathroom anyway, your cat eyes adjusting to the dark shapes of the bathroom sinks and stalls.

You turn to Aizawa to ask him what the hell is going on, but the intensity in his eyes has begun to grow and it leaves you silent. He takes off his jacket and hangs it over the sink counter before popping two buttons to his crisp shirt, revealing his strong neck and bobbing Adam’s Apple. “We’ve got seventeen minutes until the show starts, which gives you just enough time to cum all over my face.”

You blink at him, perplexed. What the fuck did he just say? “W-What?” you stammer.

He begins to walk toward you like a predator stalking its prey, causing you to walk backward until you hit the sink counter. He traps you between his arms and the counter, giving you the illusion that you have no place to run or ride. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re in your head,” he explains, “which will make it a lot harder to go through with this mission. If you’re gonna work with me, kitty, then you need to trust yourself and clear your mind.” He gives you a crooked, lustful smirk. “I’m here for that.”

Before you can protest or even take a breath, he yanks you into his arms and envelopes your mouth in a toe-curling, mind-blowing kiss. As his soft lips move against yours, one hand grips the back of your neck while the other palms at your ass in your dress, squeezing and needing the soft globes of flesh. “Shouta,” you sigh, grappling for his collar.

Aizawa takes that moment to begin kissing your neck and shoulders, his lips touching every single sensitive bit part of you. “Tell me you want this,” he hoarsely tells you as his lips caress every part of your naked skin. “Tell me you want me to clear your head.”

His fingers glide under your dress to slip between your lips, touching your now-aching pussy through your panties. “Yes, Shouta,” you moan. “Please…just please do something!”

You don’t care what he does to you. You just want him to take care of you. Aizawa wastes no time pulling you over to the sink and bending you over, his big hands on your hips. You softly moan as he does so, this dominant side of him turning you on heavily. You press your hands against the cool counter of the sink, your breathing labored and your heart pounding.

You feel his calloused fingers glide up the hem of your gown as he pulls it up over your hips. “Thank God for the slit here,” he growls. “Makes my life a whole lot easier.”

His fingers then loop through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your shaky legs. He doesn’t waste any time–his wet kisses are immediately planted all over your inner thighs and pussy lips as his hands begin to massage your ass.

You moan at the feeling, biting your lip to avoid getting any louder. The last thing you need is someone coming in here and seeing you…though the thought of it makes you wetter. Aizawa comments on it as his fingers glide over your slit, hissing quietly at the wetness he finds there. “You’re soaked already,” he groans. “What I wouldn’t give to fuck this wet, little pussy right now.”

You whimper at his dirty words and close your eyes, already picturing him fucking you while you’re bent over the sink counter, completely vulnerable and open for him. “But we’ll have time for that later,” Aizawa softly murmurs before his face is planted in your ass and his tongue is gliding along your pussy. He takes his sweet time despite there being a very important mission, his tongue swirling along your clit and your slit.

You moan and grind your hips back into his mouth, your mouth wide open as the pleasure explodes all over you. “Fuck, Sho, baby,” you whine, gripping the counter. “You’re so…so good!”

He moans into your pussy, occupying his tongue in your pussy while his fingers begin to rub soft circles around your clit. His soft touch nearly sends you into orbit.

And though this feeling is good and amazing, it only does so much to curb your anxiety. No matter how good Aizawa’s mouth and fingers are, those intrusive thoughts about tonight come rushing back to you.

Thoughts of whether or not you’ll be good enough; if you’ll be able to keep up with Aizawa; if you’ll end up hurt or possibly dead. They propel you into a dark hole, farther and farther away from the pleasure and tender, loving care you’re receiving now.

“You’re tense,” Aizawa murmurs from behind you. His hand moves to stroke your ass soothingly. “Relax, kitty. I’m here with you.” His hand then moves up your back, stroking it slowly. His fingers feel heavenly. “You don’t have to think about anything but what you’re feeling right now.”

You flush, feeling guilty for your emotions. Here this man is, on his knees on a dirty bathroom floor and working his jaw like it’s his duty, doing everything he can to make you feel better. And yet, you just can't get out of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly say. “I just…I’m just scared.” You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Please continue. Don’t stop.”

But Aizawa doesn’t touch you. Instead, he stands and you can feel him behind you. “You’re still shaking though,” he comments, his voice deep and blunt.

You flush with embarrassment, hating your body for betraying you. Now he’s going to stop and lecture you for being too insecure in your skills and abilities. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the dam of tears from breaking and flooding behind your eye sockets.

“Turn around,” he orders, firmly but softly. You slowly do so, your eyes still closed. His hand touches your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. You slowly open your eyes to stare into the worried, charcoal pools staring down at you.

“I wanna do something for you to help, but I need you to be absolutely sure about it before you say yes. I know we’ve only been intimate for a short while, but I think this could help relax your body and your mind.”

You blink at him, confused yet intrigued. “What did you have in mind?” you question. He continues to stroke your cheek, the feeling soothing you already, though he looks almost uncertain about his idea. His lips are drawn into a tight line and he seems like he’s in his own head.

But before you can ask what’s up, he drops his hand from his cheek and takes his suit jacket from the sink. There, he retrieves his scarves and turns to you. Even in the darkness, you feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

“I’m gonna be upfront with you,” he bluntly says. “I’d like to tie your wrists and ankles with these, but only those. Restricting your limbs will help your body relax and your mind would have no choice but to focus on the pleasure because your body can’t move. I’ll only do it with your permission though.”

You silently stare at him for a moment, the gears in your head slowly turning. He wants to what? Your eyes tick down to the scarves hanging loosely from his hands before ticking back up to his waiting eyes.

You clear your throat, flushing. “Uh…you’re into that?” You can’t help but nervously giggle. You never thought Aizawa would be so kinky, but then again, he’s also the same one who groped you in a school elevator.

Though you can’t quite make out his complexion in the darkness, you can tell that he’s blushing by his eyes flicking away from yours. “A little, but I’ve only done it with a few. Not everyone really…gets…what I’m into.”

Your eyes widen. What the fuck else is this man into besides bondage? You suddenly remember him mentioning a collar the night you two had sex for the first time and you blush.

Aizawa takes your silence for discomfort even though your mind is short-circuiting. “If you don’t want to, I completely understand,” he quickly adds. “There’s no pressure. I just want you to clear your head for a while and feel every ounce of pleasure I want to give you because you deserve it.”

You stare into his eyes, searching for any confirmation that he means what he says. He does. You can tell by the way he stares you down, his gaze soft but unyielding. You’ve never done something like this before. It’s way out of your world, especially when it comes to sex.

But the idea of being tied up by Aizawa’s scarves and given a good orgasm arouses you more than you understand. Your pussy clenches and gushes impatiently in your panties, desperate for this fantasy to become a reality.

“Okay,” you decide. “Let’s try it.”

Aizawa’s eyes widen, obviously not thinking you would agree. “But only on one condition.” With a sway in your hips, you sashay up to him, your heels clicking against the tiled floor. You press a hand to his toned stomach and slowly slide it up to his chest, feeling him up. “When you tie me up, I want you to fuck me just like that,” you purr.

The shock on Aizawa’s face immediately fades, replaced with a darker, more intense look. It’s intimidating. It’s sexy. “So I have your permission to do this?” he asks, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that excites you. You slowly nod.

“And you can revoke that consent at any point during this. Your pleasure and your safety are all that matter to me, and they should be all that matter to you.” He cups your chin in his hand, forcing you to keep his eyes on his. “Am I clear?” he asks.

Though your mind is going blank and your tongue feels dry, you manage to answer: “Yes.” He raises an expectant brow. “Yes what?” he probes.

You swallow your now-dry throat, feeling like you’re in the damn Sahara desert now. “Yes…sir?” you timidly answer though it comes to as a question.

That satisfies him though, a crooked smile crossing his lips. “Good girl,” he chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now turn around and face the mirror with your legs together and arms behind your back, one wrist over the other.”

Trembling in excitement, you do as he commands and turn toward the mirror. You watch the woman staring back at you place her hands behind her back and stand with her legs pressed tight together. Aizawa comes up behind her and gently takes one of her wrists into his hand where he begins to wrap his scarf around it. He does the same to the other until both are tied together, stuck behind your back. You flex your hands in your new binds, the restrictions tight but not painful.

“That okay?” he asks, looking up at you for your reactions. “It doesn’t hurt?”

You slowly shake your head. “No,” you answer. “But I can’t move them either.” The grin that stretches across his face is no short of devious. “Good; now we do your ankles.”

He bends down and gives your ankles the same treatment, his fingers working expertly to tie a knot around the back of your ankles that pulls them tightly together. Finally, you’re finished and you feel completely stuck. You can hardly move and even if you try to, you know that you’ll trip due to your feet being restricted. The fact that you’re completely at Aizawa’s mercy makes your heart thump faster in your chest, especially when you feel his hand press on the middle of your back.

That anxiousness twirling in your stomach is replaced with pleasure when you feel Aizawa bend you over the counter and lightly glide his fingers against your cunt. “You’re still so wet,” he growls, arousal deep in his voice. He begins to stroke you there, emitting breathless moans from your lips. You shut your eyes from the feeling, unable to hold yourself together.

You suddenly feel Aizawa at your side, his hot, minty breath fanning your face. “Is this turnin’ you on, kitty?” he teasingly asks, his lips at your ear. “Havin’ nowhere to run or hide because you’re tied up in my scarves? I could do anything I want to you at this point.”

You whimper at his words, already picturing him doing that. He could fuck you in any position he wants; move your body however he sees fit. The more Aizawa plays with your pussy, the harder you can feel him becoming in his pants as he pushes against you, the wetter and more impatient you get. You need him. Now.

“Shouta, please,” you pitifully whine. “Please just fuck me. Please make me forget.”

Sensing your neediness, Aizawa doesn’t waste time unbuckling and unzipping his slacks with one hand. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, and you feel his cock press against your entrance. He lightly strokes your slit for a few seconds, coating his head in your juices, before he pushes himself inside of your aching, waiting cunt, stretching you out. You gasp at the feeling, your toes curling in your heels and muscles turning to jelly.

Aizawa slowly begins to rock his hips against your ass, creating a symphony of skin slapping against skin. “God, you’re tight!” he grunts. “Keep your thighs pushed together. Keep yourself tight for me.”

You do as he says, clenching your thighs tightly together, causing your pussy walls to clench around his cock. He takes that as his cue to go faster, bumping his hips mercilessly against your ass that bounces and claps against his lower stomach. Every time he thrusts, he strokes another part of your pussy walls that has you seeing stars and glides against the underside of your G-spot.

“God, Shouta!” you gasp. “I can’t…can’t…” Your breath comes out in huffs as he fucks you silly against the sink. It’s too much. He’s just too good. Your mind is now a blank canvas, blinded by the euphoric feeling that Aizawa is serving you on a silver platter. You have no choice but to take it, your restrictions forcing you to.

“Can’t what?” he huffs with laughter from behind you. "Can't take it? You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck all of those bad thoughts out of that pretty brain of yours?”

He grabs your hips and rams into you faster, turning your pussy to mush. You can no longer hold back and start to sob and whine, your voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. “Talk to me, kitty,” he demands. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” you sob, nearly crying at the sheer pleasure. “Yes, sir, I need this! I need you!” Aizawa continues to sharply snap his hips, ramming his cock into your pussy again, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with every thrust. You are gone, absolutely “Please keep fucking me like that!” you babble. “Please, please, Master!”

Your eyes pop open, horrified at your words. Aizawa falters for a moment in his thrusts, obviously catching that word too. ‘Oh, no,’ you lament inwardly. ‘Now look what you’ve done, stupid! Now he’s gonna think you’re weird! You’ve ruined every–‘

The self-critical thought is instantly squashed when Aizawa begins to claw at one of your breasts, bringing it out of your dress to fondle as he proceeds to fuck you dumb again. “Say that again,” he hoarsely demands, almost begging you. “Call me that again.”

Your pussy clenches desperately around his cock, your clit swelling as you get closer to that orgasm. “Please, Master!” you beg. “Please make me cum! I’m so, so close…” A string of mewing moans leaves your lips as he speeds up, doing his damnedest to make you both cum.

“Cum all around my cock,” he growls. “Do it right now. Give it all to me, kitty.” As you clamp down around his cock, prepared to do just as he ordered you, he grips your breast and your hip hard enough to draw bruises. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he grunts. “Gonna cum deep inside this pretty lil’ pussy…”

After a few more earth-shattering thrusts that knock the wind out of you, he grips your body to him for dear life and bursts inside of you with a primal growl that makes you unravel in his arms and scarves. Combined with the feeling of being restricted, his dick gliding over your G-spot, and his warm cum gushing inside of you, you finally cum all over his cock. Your orgasm washes over you in a blissful tsunami that has you curling your toes in your heels and biting your lip to keep from screaming at the top of your lungs.

You are overcome with mind-bending, back-breaking pleasure. And Aizawa. Your senses come alive with every part of him–his scent; his touch; the warmth radiating off of his body.

And for the first time since tonight started, you feel good. You feel so good that you can hardly control your breathing. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the aftershocks of your orgasm take over your body, making you writhe and buck against the restraints. Aizawa slowly slides out of you and presses his nose to your cheek, nuzzling it.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers. “Just breathe through it.”

You do as he commands, slowly inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils until the aftershocks fade. Aizawa pulls away enough to let you lean your head back into his chest. You feel spent and sweaty but oh-so satisfied with what just happened. “Thank you,” you mewl softly. “That was amazing. Definitely did the job.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I am to please. Now let’s get you out of my scarves.”

You feel slightly disappointed when he unties your wrists and ankles. And then you’re shocked at yourself feeling such a way. Did you really enjoy being tied up by him like that? Do you like the idea of being vulnerable and possibly controlled by him?

‘Very,’ you think, and you bite your lip at the naughtiness of it. You never considered yourself that submissive, but something about having Aizawa dominate you yet still takes immense pleasure in your pleasure is totally arousing to you.

After you and Aizawa wash your hands and clean up, you quickly get dressed. You smooth out your gown, check your hair in the mirror to make sure it doesn’t look too fucked-out, and apply fresh lipstick in the mirror. You don’t need anyone questioning where you were. Once finished, you turn to Aizawa who is fully dressed and tucking his scarves into his suit jacket.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and giving you butterflies. “Ready, kitty?” He asks, and the pentane you’ve become so familiar and accustomed to makes your heart soar.

You smile at him as you strut up to him, a newfound confidence in you that can only be given by a good fucking. “Yeah,�� you reply with conviction. “Let’s do it.” And off to the opera you go, hand in hand.

No one is around when you two come out of the bathroom, fortunately, so the trip to your seats is smooth. Everyone is already sitting in their seats, the entire place packed. Aizawa lets you enter your aisle first to find your seat before he follows. The seats are under a balcony where others sit above you and though high up, you still get a great view of the stage below.

“The show starts in five,” Aizawa whispers as he sits next to you. “He should be here soon.”

You bite your lip as you begin to scan every seat surrounding you–down, up, left, and right. “What does he look like?” you whisper, eyes still scanning the audience below.

Aizawa does the same, his eyes shifting among the sea of heads. “Look for a man with terrible, scarred skin, green eyes, and long, black hair. Supposedly, he’ll be wearing a black suit and he’ll be here with a woman too, obviously as a cover for a hit tonight.”

You cross your legs and put your hands in your lap, clutching your purse in an effort to relax. “What do you want me to do if I see him?” you ask, unable to calm down.

Aizawa puts his hand in yours, holding it. “Just squeeze my hand twice and I’ll know. You can just be my lookout for now.” He goes back to looking straight ahead at the stage, looking calm and collected, but you can tell he’s alert.

You wonder how you can be like that. How does he stay so calm in such a high-alert situation? You can barely keep still. You’re jumpy; unable to keep from voicing your concerns to Aizawa. “But what if–“

Before you can get the rest of your words out, the lights in the room are dimming, shrouding the audience in darkness, and the crowd is excitedly applauding for the start of the show.

You instantly grip the arm of your chair, your claws sinking into the cushion there and ripping it. You’re reacting as if a villain will pop right out of the stage. Aizawa grips your hand, his thumb running comfortingly across your knuckles. “Relax, honey,” he coos. “Just keep breathin’ for me. You’re doin’ great so far.”

On stage, a spotlight appears, illuminating a woman in a long, black gown and the most beautiful, glossy curls you’ve ever seen. As she opens her mouth to sing, a string section below the stage begins to lay alongside her melody and a big, white moon rises above her in the background.

“It’s not that,” you whisper fearfully. “What if he sees us first and attacks us?”

Aizawa shakes his head. “He wouldn’t do that unless he wants to make a scene. With how low-key he’s been, it wouldn’t make sense for him to do such an irresponsible thing. That would be like painting a target on his back.” He turns back to the stage, paying attention to the singer…or at least acting like it.

You try to do so, but the loud sounds of horns, flutes, and drums coming from the band below make your anxiety reach a crescendo along with the music. You busy yourself with being Aizawa’s trusted lookout and slowly scan the audience to your left. Thanks to your cat eyesight, you can make out each face in the darkness. You check their eyes; their hair; their features.

You see no one that matches Aizawa’s description of the villain or one that looks remotely close to being a threat. You can feel yourself becoming frustrated. How are you supposed to find him in such a big audience? He could be anywhere!

But when your eyes scan up to your left towards the balcony seats, you know you’ve found him. He stands out immediately like a sore thumb. And he might as well be–his skin is terrible, pebbled with healed scars across his cheeks and jaw.

His hair is long and black like Aizawa’s, but not as luscious or sexy. It looks oily and cascades down his shoulders in waves. He wears a dark indigo suit that matches his eyes and the dress of the beautiful woman he sits next to. They sit in their own seats isolated at arm’s length away from the rest of the audience.

While his date doesn't give off the vibe of evil, he certainly does. His appearance makes you weary and the way he sits–back straight and rigidly as if he’s about to get up at any moment–makes you uneasy.

You know for a fact that you’ve found the villain. You waste no time squeezing Aizawa’s hand twice and he immediately turns to you. “See him?” he whispers. You nod, motioning your head to your left where the balcony seats are.

He shifts his body to look, pretending to be whispering to you. You shift your eyes to the left to keep your eyes on the villain and his date. She leans over to whisper something to him, her hand on his knee. He nods and whispers something back, making her grin and slap him on the arm. She then rises from her seat and walks towards the exit behind her.

“Looks like she’s getting up,” Aizawa whispers, already rising from his seat with you. “C’mon before she comes back.”

“What!?” you quietly hiss, shocked that you are already moving in action. What are you supposed to do?

But Aizawa doesn’t explain, instead taking your hand to get you out of your seat. He whispers “excuse me” to your seatmates as you squeeze past them before heading up the steps to one of the exits. With his hand still in yours, he hurries to the next exit on the left where the balcony seats, and your target, are. You see the back of his head and feel those nervous butterflies return.

You turn to Aizawa for comfort but he is busy talking to someone in his earpiece. “Yeah, I see him,” he tells the person in his ear. “I’m approaching the target now for interrogation.”

Your eyes shift to the villain and back to Aizawa who proceeds to creep towards the balcony. You stop him, your hand on his shoulder. “Wait, Shouta,” you protest.

He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused. “He may recognize you and freak. Let me try to get him first before you do.” You know the villain won’t recognize you and if you act right, you would seal the deal on this mission for both you and Aizawa.

The pro looks uncertain and a little afraid. “You sure?” he worriedly asks. You nod, determined to show him that you’re more than capable of doing this. He finally nods, presenting his hand in an “after you” motion toward the villain. “Go get ‘em, baby.”

You grin, wanting to kiss him. ‘I certainly will.’

Slowly, you creep towards the balcony seats, glad that the singing is loud enough that your heels clicking across the floor aren’t heard. You move slowly and methodically, keeping watch of the villain’s head to make sure you're not heard. But he’s too busy staring ahead. Holding your breath, you finally make your way to the seat next to him and sit down, finally exhaling. You try to keep calm and not give yourself away as his cologne hits your nose.

He barely glances your way when you finally settle into his date’s seat. “You’re back,” he says, his voice gritty and low. “That was quick.” You feel his hand move to grip your thigh. You do your best to not claw it off. “I just couldn’t wait to get back here and see your handsome face, darling,” you purr.

You glance at him, watching his scarred face morph into a scowl. He finally turns toward you and his eyes widen in shock. “Who the fuck–“

“Nice outfit, right?” you chuckle deviously, motioning over your red gown. “I did a quick change. And how ‘bout my nails? You like ‘em?” You present your hand to him where your claws jut out of your nails, sharp and glinting in the darkness.

Before the villain can say anything more, he is suddenly yanked back into his seat by his neck where a scarf is wrapped tightly around it from behind. “Say one word or make one move, and I’ll snap your neck,” Aizawa warns, his voice dangerously low. “I’m gonna ask you some questions and I want you to answer them honestly. Maybe then the cops will go easy on you.”

The villain grunts slightly as his breathing is slightly restricted but not enough to choke. “Eraserhead?” he chuckles in disbelief. “They got you?” His indigo eyes shift your way, ticking up and down your face. “Who’s the chick?” he curiously asks.

Aizawa’s fists clench around the scarf wrapped around the villain’s neck, causing him to wheeze. “Her name is Night Claw and she’ll most definitely put those claws to use if you don’t start talking.” You flash your claws at the villain and even grip his knee for good measure, causing his body to tense. “What’s your real name?” Aizawa demands.

“Toyoma Kaneki,” he hoarsely responds. Aizawa nods as if expecting him to say that. You don't doubt that he did. “What are you here for?” he demands. “It can’t just be for a night out to enjoy the singing. You’re here for someone.” Toyoma defiantly grits his teeth and Aizawa tightens his grip, causing Toyoma’s face to turn beet red as he tries to choke down air.

Aizawa finally releases his hold and the villain gasps. “God!” he coughs. “It’s him! Multi-millionaire and politician.” He nods at the bald man wearing glasses sitting several seats below. “Someone paid me to do it, but I wasn’t gonna kill him!”

“How can we believe that?” you scoff. “You have a track record for murder and assault, apparently.”

Toyoma visibly shakes as Aizawa’s tightens his grip again. “I-I just get paid to it!” he stammers. “Plus, these people are bad news too: blackmail; money laundering…I’m doing the streets a favor for takin’ them out.”

“That’s not up for you to decide, Toyoma,” Aizawa lectures, sounding like a father lecturing his son for bad behavior. “So what do you wanna do here?” Toyama continues to stare ahead at his target, a scowl on his face. His shoulders then slump in defeat. “You caught me, I guess,” he sighs, raising his hands. “I know if I do anything, you’ll fuck me up. If the cops are waiting for me outside, just take me to ‘em.”

You and Aizawa instantly share a look of pure confusion. That doesn’t sound right. Before you can question Toyoma if he's serious, the clicking of heels startles you, and your ears perk up high on your head. You and Aizawa turn, finding Toyoma’s standing there in a state of shock.

“What’s going on here?” she demands, squinting at you. “Who are you?” When she sees Aizawa, her eyes just about pop out of her gorgeous skull. “Eraserhead?!” she gasps, loud enough to catch some eyes. Before either of you can speak, Toyoma suddenly sinks into his seat and disappears into the floor like he isn’t made of solid matter. You can hardly believe your eyes.

“Fuck!” Aizawa growls, already racing to the exit past Toyoma's distraught date. You follow him as fast as you can in your heels. As you do, you rapidly search the area for a way downstairs, knowing Toyoma could be on any of the lower floors.

You swear you get blessed when you find a staircase near the elevators. “Shouta, this way!” you shout before quickly venturing down the staircase. Aizawa follows close behind, his dress shoes slapping against the stairs as your heels slam furiously down each step. You know you’ll be feeling this tomorrow.

The staircase is luckily only five floors, leading right down to the final floor: the basement, right behind a door. Though out of breath, you immediately grasp the doorknob and jiggle it, finding it locked. “The door!” you growl, frustrated as you continue to pull and push with no use.

With his hand on your shoulder, Aizawa silently moves you out of the way, keeping you as far from himself and the door as possible. He then raises his left leg and forces the basement door open with one swift kick. The door nearly breaks off its hinges as it slams open, revealing a dank, dark basement with creaky floorboards, cement walls, and dusty tools, stage equipment, and dining tables.

Aizawa carefully walks in first, his movements silent and methodical. Before you enter after him, you unstrap your heels and carry them instead, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise. Walking barefoot allows you the silence you’re looking for. The basement is quiet but not unnervingly so when you follow Aizawa into the room. When the door shuts behind you, it engulfs you in total darkness.

You’ve never been more thankful for your senses than now when your feline sight kicks in, allowing you to see the shapes of different items and Aizawa standing in the middle of the room. “Sense anything?” he asks, his voice hushed and low.

You take a moment to tap into your senses. Though it’s dark, you don’t see anything move; not even the tiniest bug or dust particle. You don’t hear anything despite a show happening several floors above. You also don’t smell something out of the ordinary that isn’t mold or dankness.

You don’t sense…anything. And that frightens you. Toyoma is clearly a very skilled villain which means he knows when to attack and when not to. Aizawa has to keep on his toes. You turn to warn him, but before you can, you suddenly find yourself being kicked hard in the middle of your back and falling chest-first on the floor. You gasp, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs.

“Y/N!” Aizawa shouts, racing to help you but is stopped when Toyoma materializes from the solid floor beneath him and punches him in the face.

Aizawa falters slightly but manages to quickly recover and scoop you up with one arm. Carefully, he carries you away to the other side of the room and lays you on your side. “Y/N, stay down,” he demands. “I’ve got him.” You can’t even protest; you’re in too much pain.

You have no choice but to watch Aizawa as charges at Toyoma, drawing his scarves and immediately targeting them at Toyoma. His attack is done in vain when Toyoma disappears into the floor again.

Aizawa barely has time to look for his opponent when he suddenly appears right behind him from the floor and wrenches an arm around his neck. Toyoma is incredibly fast, you realize. So fast that neither of you can sense him.

Aizawa grunts, his knees buckling as Toyoma locks his arm around his neck. “You should’ve known better than to have followed me down here,” he grunts, working his damnedest to choke Aizawa. “You should’ve let me leave.”

Aizawa gargles and grunts in Toyoma’s deadly hold, his face turning a dark shade of red the more time he goes without breathing.

He’s killing you, you realize with fear flaring in your gut. And if you don’t do something, Aizawa is sure to die.

Thinking quick and concealed by the darkness, you press a hand to your stomach and roll over to the nearest wall where you find an old toolbox. You grab the first thing your eyes land on–a crowbar–and quickly rise to your feet. You run towards Toyoma and quickly hit him over the head with the crowbar, glad for your swiftness and the silence your bare feet allow you.

Toyoma grunts in pain as he falls to his knees, grabbing the back of his head. Aizawa immediately crumbles and begins to cough, gulping down air.

Toyoma glares up at you like you just murdered his entire family. “And you should’ve known better than to have fucked with us,” you growl before bringing the crowbar forward to hit him across the face.

Toyoma quickly sinks into the floor and appears again through a wall, this time on the far left. You’re on him immediately, ignoring the pain in your stomach as you draw your claws and swipe at him. Toyoma backs up with every single swipe of your hands, moving as you do.

You dip low to try and kick him from below, but he one-ups you by grabbing your leg and swinging you around like you weigh absolutely nothing. You shriek as he does, becoming dizzy from the constant whirl. When he finally releases you, you go soaring into the air and quickly twist your body to land on your hands. You then flip backward and land in a squat, your heart pounding and lungs burning.

Toyoma chuckles at your skill. “Your bitch can fight, Eraser,” he spits. “But she’s not gonna stop me. Neither one of you fuckin’ idiots are!” He opens his jacket and Aizawa is on him, quickly charging toward him with his scarves drawn and eyes flashing red.

But before he can stop him, he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a small canister, and forcefully throws it down. As soon as it hits the floor, the canister explodes into a plume of thick, blinding smoke that has you coughing and your eyes tearing. You find sanctuary on the nearest wall and press your back against it as the smoke gets thicker.

“Y/N!” Aizawa shouts in the smoke. “Where are you?” His voice is loud and clear despite the smoke concealing your sight. He sounds close by, but where is the question.

You begin to try and walk along the wall, keeping your hands on it to give you some balance. “I’m right here!” you call to him, squinting into the thick, gray fog. “The motherfucker was ready, apparently.”

“Stay right here you are,” Aizawa grunts. “I’ll come to you.” You want to ask him how when the fog is too thick, but you stop when you hear something: the honk of cars. It is coming from your left, right where you remember the small window being. Toyoma is escaping. “Wait, I hear him!” you shout. “He’s near the window! He’s getting away!”

“Y/N, wait!” Aizawa warns. “Don’t go anywhere!” But you don’t listen, too pumped up on adrenaline and the fear that this piece of shit will get away for good.

Crouching in the fog, you quickly crawl on all fours, navigating through that way until you feel another solid wall. You trail your hands up until you feel nothing but the cool night breeze on them. The window.

Reaching your hands out, you grasp the window and open it further. Hopefully, the air will clear the fog for Aizawa’s sake.

Quickly, you securely grasp the top of the window ledge and climb through, now squatting in the window. You twist your head to look up, finding a poster for the opera hanging there. You sink your clothes into the fabric and begin to climb up one at a time, grunting as you do.

The farther you climb, the more distant the sounds of the street become, but you don’t look down. If you do, you know you’ll stop. You keep your eyes up, trained on the stars above.

‘Do it for Shouta,’ you think. ‘He needs you.’

When you finally reach the rooftop, you pull yourself up with all of the strength you can muster. Toyoma is there, standing at the ledge with his back to you. When he hears you, he barely spares you a glance. “Don't move,” you demand, your voice low and dangerous. “If you know what’s good for you.”

You can’t help but wonder why Toyoma didn’t just use his quirk to escape. You get your answer when he turns around and reveals the bomb sitting there, attached to dozens of wires. “Do you know what’s good for you, bitch?” he mocks you, an overly cocky smirk on his face. “If you take one step toward me, I’m settin’ this thing off. Consider it my plan B.”

He retracts a device from his jacket–a remote with one single button. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that it’s for the bomb. Fear flows through you like ice was just shot into your veins, making you freeze up.

'So that’s why Toyoma came up here: he’s planning to bomb the theatre.'

He cocks his head to the side, staring you down like you’re nothing more than a child playing dress-up. And you do feel like you’re a child playing dress-up right now. You are now faced with one of the most malicious villains you’ve ever come across.

“I knew one of you stupid heroes would be here undercover tryin’ to stop my mission,” Toyoma spits. “So I improvised. If you even think about comin’ near me, I’ll kill every single person in this building, including you and your man.” His thumb grazes the remote button, making your heart lurch. “Just leave me be and I won’t do it. I’ll even spare your life.”

You know that all he spouts are lies. He may even kill you or worse, Aizawa even if you let him off the hook. Even worse though, he could be telling the truth. If you do as he says, you know it’s only a matter of time until he successfully accomplishes his mission or kills someone else the way he’s been doing so far. But if you decide to attack, he’ll bomb this entire place.

Sweat gathers at the back of your neck as you find yourself caught between decisions. ‘What do I do?’ you think in a panic. ‘What would Shouta do?’

You squeeze your eyes shut as frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You wish you could disappear somehow to take Toyoma by surprise. Maybe shrink down enough to sneak behind him and…wait. A lightbulb flickers in your head and you nearly laugh. ‘That’s it!’

Toyoma continues to stare at you, his thumb hovering tauntingly over the button. “What are you still standin’ there for?” he cackles. “What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?”

You smirk at him, using those lines as the perfect time to shift. The world suddenly gets bigger and Toyoma appears much taller than he is when you shrink down onto all fours, your skin and clothes morphing into fur. Toyoma watches in horror and awe as your limbs shrink, your human ears shift into points, and your hands and feet transform into paws. Whiskers protrude from your cheeks. Your nose is now a snout. Your cat irises shift, directed right at him.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts, nearly dropping the remote. You waste no time rushing towards him on your feline legs and pounce on him, your claws extended and fangs drawn. The shock on his face is absolutely hilarious, even when you drag your set of claws across his cheek and sink your teeth into his nose. “Ow!” he screams, holding his now bleeding face.

As you land perfectly on your feet, you take the remote from his hand and into your mouth. Quickly, you shift back into your human form and slip the remote into your back pocket. Toyoma gives you a deathly stare, ragged claw marks on his cheek, and blood bubbling from the teeth marks in his nose. “That’s for calling’ me a bitch, bitch,” you hiss at him. “And this is for bein’ a dickhead.” You begin to charge at him, prepared to tackle him off of the building.

You don’t count on him suddenly disappearing through the rooftop, stopping you dead in your tracks. You barely have time to look for him when you suddenly feel his hands grip your ankles from below. You shriek, trying to free yourself, but you only lose your balance. You gasp as you find yourself teetering off of the ledge of the building. Quickly, you grip the ledge with both hands, your claws scratching at the stone. “Shit!” You gasp, your heart leaping into your throat.

You scramble to press your feet to the wall but you’re unable to find your footing. You sneak a look down below, finding the city traffic below you. Even if you did manage to land perfectly, you’d be squashed by one of the cars. A whimper leaves your lips as you grip the ledge, desperate to climb back up.

But Toyoma stops you when he appears in your line of vision and gives you a menacing smirk. “Now who’s the bitch?” he chuckles down at you. “That’s all you’re ever gonna be when you splatter all over the pavement for playin’ pretend.”

He kneels down to give a good look at his eyes. “You think don’t see that you’re not a real pro?” he asks, squinting at you. “That I can’t see right through you?” He presses his foot to one of your hands, nearly crushing your fingers. “Now look at you: seconds away from death. Let’s see if cats really do have nine lives.”

“Please!” you beg, but you can’t stop him when he pries your hands off of the ledge. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait to feel your body hitting the ground…but you don’t feel pain or hear the splat of your body hitting the cold pavement below.

What you do feel is something gripping your wrist to stop your fall and hear Toyoma grunting from above you. You open your eyes, finding Aizawa’s scarves wrapped around your wrist and Toyoma’s body, restricting his movement.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Aizawa demands, rage written all across his handsome face and in his eyes that glow pure, deadly red. Toyoma's eyes widen for a moment, obviously feeling the effects of Aizawa’s quirk draining him of his power. “No!” he growls and squeezes his eyes shut behind he sinks through the rooftop once more.

Aizawa isn’t too concerned with that though. He’s way more concerned with getting you up to safety. He begins to pull you up by one of your arms though you’re afraid to let go. “I’ve gotcha,” he grunts. “Grab my hand.”

He reaches his free hand out to you. Though hesitantly, you do so and he yanks you up by both of your wrists. Once you feel your feet touch the ground, your claws retract and your body relaxes though you still tremble.

Aizawa immediately unties his scarf from around your wrist and wraps his arms around you. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. All of the fear and relief you can feel radiating off of his big, hard body pressed against yours in his tight embrace. He is solid, real, and true. Everything that you need to know that you’re okay.

You reach into your back pocket, presenting the remote to him. “I-I got the remote for the bomb,” you softly stammer. "He was planning to bomb this place.”

He silently nods, not even acknowledging it too much. He just continues to squeeze you as if afraid you’ll disappear again. You lean into his chest, allowing yourself to melt into him, even feeling those tears threatening to rise to the surface. He rubs your back soothingly, reassuring you (and possibly himself) that everything is okay now.

But everything isn’t okay. "Goddammit!” you growl frustratedly in his chest. “He got away again.” Tears begin to flow freely down your face now, ruining your makeup. "I almost had him! I almost–“

“Stop,” Aizawa firmly demands, taking hold of your shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about him right now. I knew he was gonna get away anyway. He’s skilled, remember?” His hand moves to caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away a lone tear.

“But I had him, Shouta!” you shout, feeling so much like a loser. “He was right there! If I would’ve just…” You hang your head in shame. “I’m a failure,” you defeatedly mutter to yourself.

“No, you’re not,” Aizawa growls intensely, his stare firm and almost angered. “I don’t wanna ever hear you say that shit again, do you understand? You’re not a failure, Y/N. You’re strong, intelligent, and a damn great fighter. You’ve shown me tonight and so many other nights that you’re needed by my side.”

He wipes away another lone tear, cupping your face into both of his hands now. ”Don’t ever call yourself a failure, understand?”

Knowing he wants an answer, you defeatedly slump your shoulders. “Yes,” you huff under your breath. His grip on your face tightens.

“What was that?” he firmly asks.

You try to ignore the way your heart leaps at his dominance and the effect it has on you. “Yes…sir,” you hesitantly repeat.

He nods once, pleased with that. He opens his mouth to possibly say more, but his expression morphs into one of irritation and his hand goes to his ear. “Eraser!” a gruff voice yells from the earpiece. “Eraser, come in!”

He sighs, pressing his ear. “I hear you, chief,” he huffs, irritated. “I lost him, unfortunately…yeah, I’ll visit the department later tonight with information on him. Stay put.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” you ask, hoping he’ll say yes and you could be more help to him. You could make up for losing Toyoma.

“No,” he replies, and disappointment blooms inside of you. “You almost got knocked off a building tonight, baby. Go home and rest.” His lips stretch into a thin line which means he definitely doesn't want the backtalk tonight.

But you never listen. “But I–“

“No buts,” he firmly states. “Get home. Now.” His charcoal eyes drill a hole in you, daring you to protest or argue. But you don’t, the exhaustion of tonight being just too much.

You smile up at him despite yourself and fix his tie. “Still so bossy,” you softly giggle. That earns you a smile.

Minutes later after collecting your heels and getting escorted outside by Aizawa, you do go home. But against his wishes and your better judgment, you show up at his door hours later in the night.

You sit and wait for him patiently by the door and once he arrives in his tracksuit hours later, you give him a big greeting, purring and curling your tail around his ankles.

“Hey, you,” he coos.

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader #shouta aizawa x black!reader

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animeaandp · 2 months

Text

[Emptying out my drafts]

MHA Prompt Based on song "Parachute" by Liel Bar-Z

Oboro x reader x Aizawa (if you squint) (think sort of Wednesday Addams vibes)

Your quirk; manifestation; “The Power of Words”. Words spoken coming into being, more so if done with intention, including singing. Lucky you, you had the voice of an angel. Sing about beautiful birds and they’ll appear from thin air. Sing a sweet winter holiday song and suddenly the town is covered in snow and police flooded with reports of fat white guys trying to fit down chimneys.

You are Present Mic’s twin sister. Growing up you spent plenty of time with him and his friends, being the ‘responsible adult’ entrusted by the actual adults to ensure they didn’t get into trouble. As far as twins go, you shared key physical features, sans eye colors; you had red eyes verses your brother’s greenish/yellow, and your personalities were complete opposites. Your voice hardly rose above a whisper and you preferred sitting alone in silence over everything else. You were very bright, capable, with great potential. Life was yours as you wanted it, however, you didn't seem to care.

It’s not that you didn't take care of your health, but you had no goals in life, no dreams, anything you wished for. You had no strong feelings, were incredibly difficult to approach, and showed zero interest in getting close to others. The aura you gave off told anyone within an ounce of their right mind to give you a wide girth. “I’d cut out my vocal cords with a rusted butter knife” you said when asked what'd you do if you had Hizashi's quirk. Oboro fell into a fit of laughter while your brother rightfully took offense, but Aizawa felt a chill run up his spine.

You lived your life in the grey, and the longer Aizawa observed you, the further in it seemed you walked. His concern grew so much his heart hurt just to think of you. It’s the way your eyes never truly looked alive. Sometimes he’d just watch you, and the way you carried yourself personified 'dead man walking'. Everything you did, every way you moved, and behaved, there was just…nothing, behind any of it. A shell; a doll, doing as it should and nothing more. Hizashi refused to look too closely and left it at “that’s just how she is man..” Oboro either wasn’t aware or always busy attempting to find the bright side, like laughing at that disturbing answer you didn’t hesitate to come up with. Aizawa wished he could’ve been more like that for you. Not that you showed it but Oboro was definitely your favorite of your brother's friends. You never said a word against him or to having him around so much. He was the only one allowed in your room as well so long as he sat quietly didn’t move an inch touch any surface and barely breathed (it wasn’t that much of a privilege). There was a time Aizawa believed the two of you might be growing 'close' resulting in Hizashi causing a scene at the beach. He demanded Oboro atone for the sins of coveting something as precious as his sister with his life. It was funny at first but the crowd of beachgoers, team of lifeguards, angry sea-turtles, and that one baby might’ve gone too far. You continued reading your book and acting like you didn't know any of them.

The memories make Aizawa smile to himself but there it is again, that ache in his chest. Oboro tried to add color to your life, Hizashi tried to be a supportive brother, but Aizawa never found a way to solidify his place in your corner. He couldn’t lighten the mood, or seamlessly change topics. And the one golden opportunity he had ended up being the last time you’d see or speak to each other for many, many years.

——The golden opportunity:

The boys were having a sleepover at Hizashi's parents house during a school break, a common occurrence. Your room was past the guest bathroom and where you stayed holed up most of the time. (Despite their best efforts you had zero interest to partake in a ‘2v2’ or whatever they called those video games.) Aizawa had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the restroom but on his way out heard you singing. Not that it wasn’t common knowledge, but Aizawa never admitted how beautiful he found your voice. A few times his friends would give him grief for nodding off or zoning out and he never defended himself. It would be too embarrassing to admit that your voice soothed him to the point of rest. So it’s difficult to walk back downstairs when your voice was up here.

He meant to only listen for a moment, and with the door cracked he’s lucky you had your headphones in and back turned. However he ends up wishing you had heard him enter. You would’ve stopped singing, scolded him, then sent him on his way, and that would be the end of it; everything back to normal. Instead you carry on singing, hunched over scattered papers with lyrics scribbled here and some crossed out there. Your song writing was the one thing that comforted Aizawa’s concerns about you. He even secretly found out what specific kind of paper you used so to restock it whenever he noticed it looking low.

“I did it, I did I jumped I stepped right off that cliff without a parachute”

Aizawa frowns. This song sounded different

“..and no part of me knew how But the moment came and it had to be now, so, I did it, i did I jumped..”

The honesty in your words crawled up his back and it feels hard to breathe

“..No promises, or thoughts Just hope That I could trust myself enough to jump..”

These were your words and thoughts, and his fears being realized-literally manifested

“..deep inside I’m sure i knew That this was something i was born to do To take off and leave And step right off that cliff and fall without a parachute-“

He didn’t mean what followed. Any of it. He swore to himself for days it was an accident.

The slam of the door behind him Making you jump out of your skin and ripping off your headphones Looking down at you with hatred The first real facial expression you show him being fear-no, pain Heavy and shaky tears in your eyes Watching him desperately throw your desk in disarray Kicking the bin in pure spite and cursing you when he finally left Forcing you to your knees to pick it all up

He snatched his bag from downstairs and stormed out in the middle of the night. Maybe all of his internal worrying and anxiety for your wellbeing finally boiled over and that’s why he lost it. It’s not like he’s never heard you singing morbid songs, but hearing you explicitly say you wanted to-… “damn you.” The next morning he just said something about not feeling well to explain himself. He avoided going back over to Hizashi’s house for a while and any other possibility of running into you. Thinking of you was just unbearable now and relief didn’t come until you went off to college, choosing not to follow your brother to UA.

But then Hizashi took a break from school when he heard you’d been in an accident. Having just lost Oboro his heart couldn’t handle it and he decided he’d make up the missed time during summer or something, but not being there for you wasn’t an option like it was for Aizawa. After Oboro’s death his feelings towards you twisted further. Concern, anxiety, anger, and something close to resentment all molded together. He’d have to be all alone for the rest of the school year thanks to you. It was unfair of him and he knew it. You’d been caught in the cross fire of a villain attack and got blasted away with some debris. When you woke up in the hospital your eyes opened yet couldn't see anything. They said there was a chance some of your vision could be restored but the truth was that even then; you were legally blind. With Hizashi by your side he grieved and expressed every emotion for you, as you sat stoic in your bed, squeezing his hand.

It took a long time to adjust and your brother was there every step of the way. He helped you move into a place much closer to UA so even after you got the hang of things, if anything happened, he could be there. Current technology couldn’t fix your sight but it had advanced enough that you didn’t need a seeing eye dog. Your walking stick had sensors as well as all of your shoes, and your brother had some more installed around your home. It all relayed back to a necklace that you kept on, a minimalistic choker, to alert you of your surroundings. It helped speed up the adjustment period but your life was still flipped upside down. You had to switch schools to UA since you moved and take modified courses to account for your disability. You had to learn braille as well and sharpen all of your senses substantially if you wanted to regain your independence. You needed to memorize routes around town, how to tell time and direction, what to do if you ever get lost. Everything.

When Hizashi finally returned to school he was more worn out and depleted than you were. He still worried of course and every other day debated dropping out to find a job and help, maybe even move in. You didn’t need that level of care and Aizawa tried reminding him that you were perfectly fine on your own. Sometimes it was well meaning sometimes leaning towards selfish and fueled a few arguments. At no point did you express gratitude for all your brother has done and Aizawa firmly believed you were a toxin he should let go of. By the time they graduated things had mostly settled but Aizawa wanted nothing to do with you.

—

Years pass and Aizawa grew into the adored instructor for class 1-A. He dedicated himself to preparing them for the life of a hero and cared deeply for their wellbeing. It made it impossible to imagine that he was once so heartless and selfish. At some point he began to realize how distorted his perception of you had been. He explains this to his friend and asks for advice on how to fix things. "I don't know man, that's a lot to try and unpack. Honestly, your best bet might just be talking to her."

"What; face to face?"

"Yeah, she doesn't work too far from here, in fact she's working tonight."

"..."

"..Look, I know what my sister is like, how she's always been. I used to worry about her as well especially after Oboro then more so after her accident. But I don't anymore and I think it's time you didn't either. At the very least you owe her an apology."

Easier said than done.

A couple hours later and Hizashi jumped as Aizawa burst through the doors absolutely fed up-in disbelief that he even tried. "Whoa whoa wait! What happened?!" He chased after him but stopped short. "Not a damn thing's changed!" Hizashi tried asking what happened the next day but Aizawa was still in too foul a mood, so he goes to see you instead. The following afternoon he pulls him aside during their lunch break to talk about it. Aizawa pushes his meal away suddenly disinterested, "What else is there. I tried and wasted my time." "'Tried'?" Hizashi wanted to understand his friend's side of things but "you didn't try; you did the exact same thing as you did back then. So now that you have one more thing to apologize for, go and actually talk to her." Aizawa’s left with his thoughts but he can't stop grumbling about what happened the first time.

-- A couple nights ago

Aizawa found the place and couldn't believe he was really doing this in the spur of the moment. The lounge wasn't on a main street, it's entrance technically down an alley, but the line to get in stretched around the block. He realized he was severely underdressed as well. He'd never heard of this place either, so why did it seem so popular? Hizashi warned Aizawa to remember "you're going as Aizawa Shota, not Eraserhead." A vague but clear warning that this place may not be up to 'hero-code'. He scoffed, thinking 'just one more thing'. So far there hasn't been any suspicious activity or shady characters though, only the complete opposite. Stepping inside was more of the same; swanky from floor the ceiling. The space was large and packed. Every bar stool, booth, and bistro table filled. Aizawa finds a seat at the back, not really here for the show just a moment of your time. Hizashi said you knew that he was teaching at UA alongside him, "She's never asked about you but doesn't seem displeased when I talk about you either, so who knows how she'll react."

A few minutes later the band comes out to get setup before you take your place center stage. Aizawa expected a roar of applause but instead the room gave a surprising show of respect and immediately fell silent. 'Impressive' Aizawa thinks. You looked well, healthy, surprisingly more...put together, than he expected. He frowns though. That same look on your face still made his heart drop even after all these years. Now with your glowing red eyes washed and pale; if you held your breath you could pass for a corpse. He no longer wanted to be here He didn't want to do this He didn't want to see you He stands up and makes his way back towards the door once the band begins playing, hoping no one will notice. In turn, he misses the subtle shift in your demeanor, only hearing the band stop for a moment before picking up another tune. Aizawa nearly escaped before being thrown back in time. Every muscle in his body goes stiff hearing those words again. He ends up racing out and all the way back to UA. There were so many things causing Aizawa pain but none more than the fact that you clearly did that on purpose. You knew he was there.

— present day

He came back to this vile place with an even worse attitude than before. This time Hizashi set things up for you two to meet before the lounge opened, meaning there was no rhyme or reason for Aizawa to try and run away again. The staff sits him by the stage and offers a drink while he waited for you to come out. Aizawa notices you before he can see you; the people prepping to open calmly stop what they're doing and leave the floor. Like a ghost you slide into the chair opposite him, not making a sound at any point. For whatever reason here you held authority and everyone admired you. Yet you stare right at him with those damned dead eyes.

"I hate those eyes."

"I know."

So that's what your voice sounded like now

"You know why.?"

"How could I; you don't even know why you hate me"

"I do hate you”

"I know."

"..."

"Well, this has been a wonderful apology, I'll be sure to tell my brother how you fell to my feet groveling and begging forgiveness."

"Sit back down."

"Or what?? I doubt you can afford to trash the place."

"Just sit down...please."

You pause before gladly slipping back into your chair, "Wow, I always believed that I'd remember my final moments before death and going to heaven but poof here I am! Aizawa Shota saying 'please' to me.."

"..."

"...I can only afford you so much patience Aizawa. Why are you here."

"..."

"You look well. Heathy, happy.."

"Anyone else would love that for me."

"...I do."

"You don't."

"..No, I don't and that's why I'm here..I'd like to apologize for that." Aizawa sits up and it's now or never to man up and offer the apology you deserved. "I have been unfair to you, held prejudices for no real reason and was a poor person when I was younger...and it seems that I still am. I only have myself to blame for the years of upset i've carried believing that you were the issue instead of realizing how careless I was myself. You're right I don't understand my feelings towards you. I'm sorry for making that your problem." It was difficult to get the words out but there is a weight off his shoulders now. This was a start.

You stay silent for a moment before sighing and relaxing back in your chair. "Forget your apology Aizawa. Just tell me what I ever did to make you hate me so much." He holds his tongue and reminds himself that it was a time for honesty not relieving pent up emotions. "My hatred stemmed from concern for you and your wellbeing. You seemed like a deeply disturbed child when we were growing up. I worried, we all did."

"Hmm" you noodle over his words, "you thought I'd kill myself.?"

"...I doubted your will to live, yes."

"Why?"

"'Why?' Who wouldn't?? You were always so morbid and talked about death like it was this beautiful thing you couldn't wait to try."

You sigh and mumble something under your breath as you lean forward in your chair. You hold out your hand to Aizawa. "Take it."

"What??"

"Take my hand. Hold it. I'll show you something."

Your fingernails are well manicured, skin well moisturized; it was a nice normal hand, yet he hesitates. How could he hold something he's always perceived as lifeless? Your hand didn't flinch, shake, or sway as you held it out to him right now; as still as a doll, as still as always. He finally dares to reach out and fit his hand around yours. You chuckle feeling the shiver run through his body from the contact, "Honestly you're the worst. Children aren't even this afraid of me." "Cut me some slack; I used to have nightmares about finding your body, or of finding your brother finding your body." His hand begins to relax around yours as you prop your head up on your other one. "Why though? What have I ever done to make you think that I was suicidal, name one instance that someone could mistake for suicidal tendency." You feel the roll of his hand with yours and slowly start to trace his hand back as he thought. "Well" but he's stumped. Why was nothing coming to mind?? You used to haunt his thoughts but now that he needed those memories to justify his fears he's coming up short.

"Tough one?? How about this then: when have I ever actually tried to kill myself or outright said that I would?" He scoffs tangeling his fingers between yours, "Easy. That horrid song you keep tormenting me with." You laugh, "Sorry, couldn't resist when I realized you were here. I bet your expression was priceless. Also, that song isn’t about what you think it is.”

"How did you know I was here..?"

"I knew right away; I'd know you anywhere."

"..."

"Does hearing that make you uncomfortable."

"Not as much as playing handsys with you right now does. Why am I doing this again?"

"Right. Do you notice it yet?"

"Notice what."

"How warm it is."

"..."

"That there's the exact same amount of blood pumping through my veins right now as yours. That I'm just as alive and well as you are."

"I see."

You drag your fingers through his and trace his hand with both of yours now. "I can understand your initial concerns. I was an unusual kid, I'm still unusual, but don't forget that you were just a child as well. You weren't fully developed or aware and still perceived things with a distorted point of view." His fingers mold around your hand as you familiarized yourself with his touch. You can feel how intently he was paying attention to you right now. "I scared you, but I have never been suicidal or wishing to die. Sure my interests and the things that I enjoyed were on the morbid side of things, but so what? I find it wonderful and magical to be able to peak around the corner that every living thing must turn. Not everyone loves the same things about life as you Aizawa, and you fail to understand that, so you could never imagine that I loved living at all." You caress his hand, feeling how strong and rough it is, yet reliable and capable of being tender. "Your students are very lucky to have someone like you in their corner. Almost makes me jealous."

"Y/n-" "Don't apologize anymore Aizawa. I never blamed you for our relationship straining or the discord between us. You only ever cared about me. It must've felt impossible trying to think of a way to help." You release his hand and smile as you hold your own, "My brother already had the advantage of not needing to do much, and Oboro was a natural..."

"...This is the first time he's come up between the two of us."

"Yeah"

"...You and I never talked about what happened."

"no.."

Why is it that the only true emotions he's ever seen you show were sad ones... His hand carefully reaches for yours, thumb tracing over your knuckles as his fingers wrap around your fist. "I'm sorry for your loss, y/n...truly...I wasn't there for you when you needed someone, and from the bottom of my heart I have regretted that. I know how much you cared for each other.”

"..."

"Ha, what a cruel man, making a feeble blind woman cry like this."

"Nah you're fine" he smiles softly as you wiped your face, and before either of you realize it he's brushing away the last of them himself. “You’ve grown up beautifully. I wish I hadn’t wasted my chance to admire that.” You chuckle leaning into his hand, “You’re talking like I’ve got one foot in the grave. We’re the same age you know.” “That’s how I know you’re getting old.” Soon you need to start rehearsals but leave Aizawa with your number. “Let’s catch up again some time. I think Oboro would like it if all of us visited him together.”

“He would. I would as well.”

“Alright then…wanna stay for the show?”

“Hell no.”

You laugh and wave goodbye over your shoulder as you head one way and Aizawa the opposite. He’s looking forward to learning to meet you in the middle, and the four of you all being together again soon.

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anniebear-92 · 1 year

Text

The Adventures of An UA RA

Part One - Move In Week

Summary: You are a third year UA hero student who is also the RA for class 1 A's dorm. It's move in for the new students and you are there to greet the fresh faces to the new year! If only you knew the year you were in for...

Warnings: SFW, jokes, crack-headed energy etc. One joke alluding to an adult type object.

Info: College AU, UA is a university and all students are college ages (18+). Dorms have been in place for all ages from the beginning of the year in this AU.

Clutching the clipboard against your sweater, it brushes the embroidery of UAU, showing pride for the school you had attended for three years as of today. Now in your second year as a Residential Advisor the itch to meet your new students crawled up your back, a scratch you couldn't reach or get rid of no matter how hard you tried.

The students would be arriving any moment, their first week to work on moving in their belongings to their new room before classes would officially start next Monday. Hoping they were anything like your previous year students who had been almost angelic, this year could only serve to be even better! Right?

Checking the watch on your wrist it was a few minutes past when their homeroom teacher Mr. Aizawa stated they would be gathering at the building so you could direct them to their assigned rooms.

"Hello!"

Your gaze raised a bit startled to find a very bright blonde rushing towards you, rolling bag scuffing along the ground as he rushed over.

"Are you a student here?"

His eyes drug over your appearance as you cleared your throat and nodded.

"I am a Third year here. I'll be your Resident Advisor for this building. You'll hear more when we get everyone here though. Can I grab your name so I can mark you present?"

His face lit up like a light bulb, nodding furiously. "Denki! I'm Denki Kaminari."

Your pen scratched against the paper, marking the little box next to his name indicating he was present as a few others began trickling over. Taking their names as they arrived one by one, you found only a few had yet to arrive.

An Izuku Midorya, Mina Ashido and Occhaco Uraraka.

The students chatted amongst themselves, they were definitely a colorful bunch so far, especially a certain blonde haired student who had called you an extra and almost refused to give his name when asked for role call. After noting you were the RA for the building he finally gave in with heavy reluctance.

After a few more minutes a pink haired girl with matching skin tone came hustling up while carrying at least two bags over her shoulders while dragging along a large one with yet another bag sitting on top let you know she was indeed Mina Ashido. She was followed by a brunette girl with a bob and pink cheeks.

The only person missing was this Izuku Midoriya person. You raised a hand and decided it was time to go inside the dorm, knowing full well not everyone always shows up on the first day or they may have decided to rescind their attendance.

"Hello Everyone! Can I grab your attention?"

Your voice rang out over the courtyard, soon to be drowned out by the chatting of students introductions and laughter. Clearing your throat you tried again to no avail, even your claps to grab their attention like kindergarten, only had a few shoot you side eyed glances in confusion.

Having enough, with a deep sigh the air around began rushing slightly as it lifted you into the air, body feeling light as you hung a few feet off the ground.

"Over here! Yes... me here in the air, hello!"

Finally catching the crowd's attention and shock that you now floated in the air a few feet above them all turned with silence to give what you had been seeking.

Returning your feet to the ground gently, you gave them the most welcoming smile one could muster.

"Welcome everyone to a new year at UA! I am Y/N L/N and I will be your Residential Advisor here this year. If we can all gather our things we will go ahead and shuffle into the lobby so you can all get situated before I hand out room assignments."

Turning you shoved a key into the lock and pushed the doors wide open for the students to finally enter the building that would be their homes for the next few months of the school year. As the final student entered the silver doors a green haired boy came running up, breath coming quick from having ran his way up the walk. His bag clutched tightly to his chest he found you watching him with intrest.

"Are you my Izuku Midoriya?"

His freckled cheeks turned a bright red while a small squeak left his lips. "Yes... I'm Izuku Midoriya."

Shining him a smile you waved a hand to indicate for him to follow the others inside. His eyes averted from yours, ears pink as he shuffled inside quietly with his bag still tightly held in his arms.

Now in the lobby you watched as the students peeked around in interest of the common areas, couches and kitchenettes in the area.

Waiving them all over you asked they take a seat at the couches for your little orientation before providing them their room numbers so they can start moving their stuff inside.

Reintroducing yourself due to the late arrival, you indicated that you would be their go-to for the rest of the school year. Your office would be located on the fourth floor should they need your assistance, otherwise on their room assignment form would be a phone number they can call at any time to reach you.

You handed a stack of papers to a student with navy colored hair and spectacles that shined in the light. He handed out a paper to each person as you indicated rules that would need to be followed in order to remain in the dorms.

One of the male students in the rear you thought was called Sero raised his hand.

"Yes sir?"

He pointed to a line in the middle of the page with a long finger, "This says no quirk use... so we can't use our quirks in the dorms at all?"

You shook your head while raising your hand to the same posted rules on the wall. "No, this means that your quirks cannot be used in the harm of others or campus property. If you have a quirk that creates fire and you set something ablaze there will be consequences."

A student with dual colored hair nodded with a quiet, "Good to know."

You quirked a brow, probably best to get a list of quirks from this group.

The same student as before raised his hand again, "Yes sir? Again."

"So my quirk creates tape from my elbows? If I wanted to say, fix something with my tape can I do that?"

You shrugged with a slight nod, "Sure, I guess. Though I am here to call maintenance so if anything is broken you would want to report that to me so we can get it fixed properly. However knowing you have that quirk if I find someone taped to a wall or ceiling I'll be coming to your door."

He shrunk into his seat a bit with a look of disappointment. Glad that was nipped before it happened.

You finished out the rules, indicating girls were on one side, guys on the other. Any inappropriate conduct would not be tolerated, such as sneaking into the other gender's restrooms, stealing, destroying property etc.

A hand shot up and your eyes landed on the owner. The hand was tiny, almost like that of a small child, the boy attached was no larger. At first you had a conflict thought of was this kid even college age?

"Yes... uh, Mineta?"

He placed his hand down with a smile, "So there's not co-ed showers here?"

Your brows lowered a bit from your hairline and a head shake from you. "No this facility is not co-ed. If you are found in violation of these rules in particular, I take very seriously by the way, you will be removed from campus permenately."

He lowered his hand and eyes shot around to disapproving looks from any female who sat near him, including your own stern glare indicating you were serious about the words you spoke. The safety of your students was one of the most important things to you.

After all questions were quelled, No alcohol is not allowed, no you cannot blast your childhood rival just for breathing.. No not existing either. Now that you were done with your presentation it was time to lead the students to their rooms.

The group followed behind you as you led them up the stairs to the first floor, giving keys one by one to those whose rooms you passed and leaving them to unpack their bags. Making your way through each floor and giving another stern reminder to the small purple boy if you catch anyone violating rules there will be issues and he hurried inside his room with such haste.

The final floor which included your office you handed off the keys to each student and decided it was time to enter your own room. On the door your name was listed with "RA" afterwards, and a small blurb to please knock on your office door beside it during business hours.

Inside your room was already decorated with your own tastes, having been on campus for at least a full week prior to the students arriving to prepare. Lounging in your chair you closed your eyes. The first week was always the hardest, getting everyone settled in and used to living apart from their parents usually for the first time.

A knock at your door broke you from your comfort and you hopped from the soft surface. Opening the door you found yourself in front of a smiling redhead with hair sticking out of a bandana he had wrapped over his forehead.

"Hi! I'm Kirishima... I was just curious about our room rules about decorating?"

You smiled and waved at the door beside your room. "Sure, let's go into my office. I gave you a list of rules, did it not answer your question?"

He followed you like a lost puppy and shook his head, "Nah, I just wanted to hang a few exercise equipment from the ceiling. Wasn't sure of the rules regarding that." You swung the door to your little office open, the inside simply decorated with yet again your taste lining the walls and surfaces. A desk sat with a few comfortable looking chairs and you led him to one of them.

He took a seat as you rounded the desk and placed yourself into your rolling chair. "What kind of exercise equipment are you hanging? As long as it doesn't damage the structure of the room it should be fine."

He leaned back in the chair, one muscled arm sticking out of a cut off shirt wrapped around the rear of the other chair beside him. "Ah just a punching bag, maybe a chair later."

Cocking a brow at the chair his sharp toothed smile lit up his face and you leaned forward. "Kirishima, just a sitting chair right?"

His eyebrows furrowed and his smile slipped a bit in clear confusion, "Wait, what kind of other chair is there?"

Biting your lip to hide your smile at his innocence you shrugged, "Forget about it. Just a reminder UA does have multiple work out facilities on campus including a simple one in the basement of the dorm for your use."

His bright smile split his face once again, "Yeah, I saw that. I'm super excited to put them to use before classes start. So I'm cool to hang that punching bag?"

Nodding you watched as he stood and offered his fist out, bumping your own he offered a salute before turning to exit the office. "See you later RA, stay manly!"

Blinking in complete confusion on what he meant by that you shrugged and shook your head before pressing the button to your computer's monitor to fire it up. You were typing up a report to the class' teacher about how move in was going when yet another knock came at your door.

Lifting your eyes you found the bubblegum girl standing in your doorway. She had a smile on her lips that went all the way into her dark eyes.

"Hey! Got a sec?"

You nodded and indicated to one of the chairs, which she dropped into immediately.

"So I wanted to come over because we're going to be neighbors and I wanted to get to know you! Are you a student here? Or did you graduate?"

Giving her a polite smile you watched as she leaned forward and propped her chin against her fists as she watched you with interest.

"Yes, I am a third year student. I'll be graduating at the end of the school year and becoming a full fledged hero."

She gasped loudly, "You're a hero student?" Nodding to confirm her question she scooted her chair forward with a screech against the floor that had your eye twitching.

"Who do you work under?"

Chuckling you turned from your computer and leaned forward. "Ashido, right?"

She huffed and waived her hand, "No, No, Mina."

Eyes flipping from her for a second before trying again, "Sorry, Mina. Yes I will be your neighbor and senior here. I don't currently have a placement because I am your RA, I have to be on site for emergencies. I will have one later and one of you will most likely be placed as my back up for when I'm at the agency. I did work with Hawks last year though..."

She inhaled deeply and you already regretted this conversation as she prepared another squeal. "Oh Hawks? He's so hot, what was he like?"

Letting your head fall to stare at the floor you let out another laugh of incredulous origin.

"Don't you have a room to unpack?"

Her lip jutted in a pout and she sighed. "Yes I do, I just wanted to get to know you since we'll be next door!"

You shot her a smile and she mirrored immediately. "We have all year for that, so for now go ahead and get your stuff unpacked. Tonight we'll have a little mixer to get to know each other before classes start."

Shooting out of her chair she rushed out with a promise she'd see you there. Letting you head rest against the back of your chair with a loud sigh. So far this group was proving to be more hands on than last year. It had been some hours after you let the kids unpack that anyone had bothered you within the first day or two.

You computer chimed with the arrival of an email from the dorm's teacher Aizawa who resided in the teacher dorm on the first floor. It was a list of the students and their quirks so you knew how to prepare for each student's needs and prevention of dorm damage.

Reading along your eyes began widening in surprise with each name and quirk you took in. Fire and ice, tape, Acid, freaking explosions?

Pulling up a new email you drafted to building maintenance ordering extra fire extinguishers for your floors based on the explosive personality from the person whose quirk was literally that. Several other preventative items were placed in the body of the mail before hitting that send button.

This was going to be quite the year... you could already tell.

#College AU #MHA #BNHA #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo #mha crack #MHA imagine #RA Y/N #Mina ashido #MHA x Reader #mha bakugo

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stillalittlelostngl · 2 years

Text

Cat Burglar Pt 2 - Aizawa/Reader

Pt 1

What started as a non-date turns into a few maybe dates which leads to perhaps a dinner date?

Coffee with Aizawa had turned into a few coffees with Aizawa until it had turned into dinner with Aizawa.

It was a development you hadn’t been expecting. Hell, you were so nervous the first time that you had spent hours debating if you should cancel on him. You typed out and deleted so many texts with, truthfully, piss poor excuses - your finger would hover over the send button for what felt like an eternity before you'd give a groan of frustration and delete the text entirely. Just to repeat the process within the next hour.

Your hands had been shaking and the butterflies in your stomach couldn’t be contained as you had made your way to the little coffee shop he had suggested. You had felt ridiculous, you were a pro hero for God’s sake and just having a friendly cup of coffee with Aizawa was having you feeling like a sidekick all over again.

He had just offered to buy you coffee because his cat had caused some trouble, he was just being nice. Neighborly. No matter how many times you repeated it to yourself you still couldn't help but think that perhaps there may be something more to it than that. You did your best to fight down the blush that would creep up when you let your mind wander down that path.

It was quite pathetic really, how worked up you were getting over coffee.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, you'd never seen him in his civilian clothes after all, but your voice catches in your throat at the sight of him.

You’d always found him to be attractive, you figured it would be hard for someone not to. His features looked as if they had been carved by some artist, every angle and curve was far too deliberate and precise to have simply been left up to genetics and nature to decide. The serious expression that often graced his face might’ve been off putting to some, to you it spoke of a conviction and decisiveness you’ve often found you lacked and were all the more drawn to him for it.

But his hair is what did it for you today. You don’t know why but it simply being up in a bun instead of the usual tousled look caused you to pause in your greeting.

You really wished you could get ahold of yourself.

It had been much to your surprise that the coffee ~thing~ had went as well as it did. You had been so certain that the blush on your cheeks and the slight stutter that pops up every now and again when you’re nervous would’ve been off putting to him. That he’d see right through you and find something he didn’t care for or was disappointed by. But he didn’t. He had a slight smile on his face and his gaze was warm and inviting the entire time the two of you spoke and caught up.

When he’d asked if you wanted to do it again, meet up for lunch or coffee the next time the both of you were free, you could’ve swooned on the spot. Somehow you managed to keep your composure though and give him a simple ‘Sure, I’ll check my schedule and let you know the next time I’m free.’ It was all very mature and adult like and you were probably far too proud of yourself for it.

Soon enough the meetings and chats had become a routine for the two of you. Both of your schedules were fairly consistent and so at least once a week you’d be able to spend a few hours together. While the run ins between changing shifts were still centered around work the two of you always included some kind of update on how your days had been and confirmation that you both were still free to meet up that week.

You were happy and from the small smiles and soft looks apparently he was too. The only thing that left you with concern was a lack of definition to what exactly the relationship was between the two of you. You felt a bit childish to be caught up on it truth be told. You had no reason to believe he was also harboring some kind of crush on you - he’d made no indication of such a thing. It was far more likely he was just looking for a friendship.

While it stung to acknowledge the reality of the situation you figured ‘just a friendship’ wouldn’t be bad. Far from it. You were happy with how things are now and if they were to stay that way it wouldn’t be a tragedy. So you just went with the flow, each day the two of you grew to know each other more and became more comfortable with each other. You shared parts of yourselves bit by bit and with Aizawa being as private of a person as he is it was really more than you could’ve thought to ask for. You were happy to have him as your friend.

Then one night or early morning, the distinction between the two has become lost to you after so many years working this graveyard shift, he asked if you wanted to have dinner with him at his place.

You’d been taken back because while the two of you had grown closer together over the past few months, dinner together at either of your apartments had never happened. Hell, you don’t think you’ve been inside his apartment at all - there was never any reason to be. It also wasn’t the day you two normally meet up during the week too. You could hardly contain your smile when you agreed.

Besides, you’d missed seeing his little cat. You hadn’t seen the furball since Aizawa had figured out how he was getting out and started putting his apartment on lockdown anytime he left. Your apartment wasn’t big per say, but it was far bigger than what you’d been used to and not having the cat come visit every now and again made you far too cognizant of the fact.

The dinner would have to be a quick affair as you both had to head to your respective agencies and begin your shifts soon after. You wasted no time getting ready to head over to his place.

You heard him before you saw him. Your knock on the apartment door was soon followed by what sounded like a crash and a meow on the other side. If you heard the owner's muttered curses through the door you made no indication.

When he opened the door you were greeted with the same tired eyes you’ve come to know so well and the small smile that never failed to get some color to rise to your cheeks.

“So, we may need to change plans,” he said, hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “the brat just knocked everything onto the floor.”

Sure enough, when you glance a bit behind him into the apartment you could see the remains of whatever it was that Aizawa had planned for the two of you to eat that night on the ground. The brat in question nowhere to be seen having probably ran off to find something else to get into.

“It’s no problem,” you couldn’t help the slight laugh that escapes at his expense as he lets you into the apartment, “we can just order out or something. How about that little ramen place down the street?” You catch the slight nod he gives in confirmation as you remove your shoes before making your way further into the apartment.

It’s…exactly how you expected it would look, minus the mess in the kitchen. It’s neat and clean, everything in its place. The colors of the furniture and everything else are muted and neutral, relaxing even. Hell, if you didn’t know better you’d think you were at some open house with how set up and devoid of personal clutter it was. The only things that suggested a person actually lived in the space was the stack of ungraded papers on the coffee table, the cat tree in the corner, and the newly created mess in the kitchen.

Eyeing said mess you’re reminded of the manners and responsibilities of a polite guest that your parents used to nag you about when you were younger.

“Do you have any wipes or anything?”

“I’m not going to ask my guest to clean up after my cat,” he said with a shake of his head as he moved to get his cleaning supplies.

“Well good thing you didn’t have to ask then,” you teased as you grabbed the items out of his hands and told him to order the food while you get the place cleaned up.

He refused to, of course, saying something along the lines of you being ridiculous and how illogical it would be for him to let you clean up by yourself.

“Seems fitting that one of the only times I bother to actually cook things don’t go to plan,” he says offhandedly as the two of you get to work. The comment causes your movements to still as you processed what he had said.

He’d cooked for you.

You didn’t think Aizawa even knew how to cook. Lord knows he seemed to only live off of those energy pouches he always carried around with him. But he’d cooked for you.

It was all ridiculously sentimental for you but the smile refused to waver the rest of the night at the knowledge he actually put in effort for you to do something he normally avoids.

You’re not sure how much time passes while the two of you eat and catch up, it’s always like that with Aizawa though. The conversation always comes easy and before long you end up staying far longer than you intended. By the time your alarm for work goes off you’re in the middle of some ridiculous story of one of your first hero jobs with a sleepy cat purring in your lap. You feel like a villain having to move the sweet thing, he’d been so happy to see you again that he’d been rubbing up on you and getting cat hair all over you the whole night.

It’s when you finished your goodbye’s to the little furball, calling out a separate goodbye to Aizawa as you move to open the door to head back to your own place, that you see Aizawa’s hand catch the door before you can open it fully. He insists that you wait a moment.

You weren't sure how he crossed the space of the apartment so quickly. You could practically feel his body heat roll off of him in waves as you turn to face him, confusion clear on your face. He was practically hovering over you. His body just a hair's breadth away from your own.

His eyes move over you and for a moment you wonder if this nervousness is what his students must feel when he’s evaluating them. You can’t help the slight gasp and blush when his hand reaches out for yours. His hands are larger than your own and calloused from his hero work - their warmth engulfing you and it feels as if like your dizzy heart would beat out of your chest at any moment.

“I don’t think I’ve said it before, or maybe I haven’t said it enough, but I really do enjoy our time together.”

“Oh, yeah?” it’s more of a squeak than an actual attempt at a human language but with your head spinning as wildly as it was you’re lucky enough to have been able to respond at all.

“Yeah,” he confirms, losing his fight to beat down the amused smile that makes its way on his face, “I’m sorry I haven’t been more direct until now, but I was wondering if you would be interested in going out sometime - on a date I mean.”

“A date?” the word isn’t computing, you’re pretty sure you're hallucinating.

His nod only serves as further evidence for your theory.

You’re positive the blush on your face is a dead giveaway to what your answer is going to be but somehow you manage to find your voice, “Yeah, I’d like that sometime.”

The smile grows in response and reaches his eyes - it’s enough to leave you breathless.

“Good, we can decide on where and when on our way to work.”

“We work at different agencies though.”

“I know.”

_______

aizawa walks you to work and holds your hand - he's such a private person that you damn near swooned

also they decided on a cat cafe for their first date - aizawa remembered you saying you were thinking about getting a cat and figured there’s no reason to hold off on it anymore

coworkers are also very nosey when they saw Eraserhead had dropped you off that night - with how quick workplace gossip is and how connected the hero agencies are best believe U.A. teachers are gunna find out soon enough too. Who knows - maybe the gossip gets leaked to a student

potential third part where you actually get that cat you've been mentioning wanting

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dancingbabya-notes · 8 months

Text

Bitter or Sweet?

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Hello, hello. Here we are again. I realized that I needed to take a break and now I just want to write.

Now here is my disclaimer: This is a work of fiction any similarities between existing stories or people is completely coincidental. All characters are depicted as adults- this includes the reader.

How does this work? I make a prompt list two to three weeks before the first posting. I will pick the characters I write about because I find that If I ask, I get no response I don’t know if I have enough of an audience that I feel I can ask for everyone to ask for anything. So, for now I will pick the characters in these. (I'll post the completed prompt list in the middle of the month jlyk)

But welcome again to the valentine posts I do. There will be either something bitter or something sweet. If there is anything I think needs a warning it will be listed between the dividers like here. I also like to list the names of the characters so everyone can read about the people they want.

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta, Tartaglia

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

1: “My face is red, isn’t it?” Midoriya

You dropped the box with all the energy you had left, knowing full well that it was gonna break upon impact, not that you needed to save the box. “Fuck me, that was heavy.”

“Um, uh…” standing next to you was a customer.

“Oh, uh how can I help you?” Putting on your usual smile you fix your lanyard, so it doesn’t get caught on the box flap, the number of times you’ve lost something from it getting caught were countless.

He nods a bit. “I was looking for a shirt.”

You could feel your energy falling quickly, the T-shirt wall was a fucking nightmare, you avoided it when you could help it. “Um sure what shirt were you looking at and what size did you want?”

“It was a Dynamight shirt, I need an XL,” he beams, and you give a slight nod.

“Oh, hero shirts are easy…” you glance at the wall. “Let me check if we have any in the back just wait here.”

“It’s in the top, Y/N.”

Glaring at your coworker you had to grab a ladder and start looking through the different stacks. While all this was happening everyone in the store would probably watch nervously as the smallest person in the store got on the biggest ladder to look through the boxes. Even in the act you could hear the ladder shake from your uneasy steps, it didn’t matter if you knew it was safe you still felt nervous as hell and would be facing the consequences later from tending so hard.

“Ah, I found it.” Grabbing the shirt stack, you started precariously making tote way down, because if you came down the ladder wrong, you’d end up having to refold all those shirts and there were already boxes that you had to deal with.

“C-careful.” The man manages as he was watching you come down.

“I’m fi-

The ladder had old feet, it wasn’t grippy anymore and that meant sometimes if you pushed your weight one way it could move in the opposite direction. You definitely wouldn’t be compensated if you bust your ass from not using the ladder properly. But luckily you fell into someone’s arms instead.

“Sorry about that.” You chuckle nervously trying to calm your pounding heard from the near-death experience. Would you be okay, you didn’t hurt the customer, did you? You’d definitely get in trouble if that was the case.

But as you turn to check that you didn’t hurt the large green haired man he smiles nervously. “Eh heh, my face is red, isn’t it?”

Nodding a bit, you find your footing and hand him the shirt he asked for. “Be careful baby it’s easy to catch colds in those weather.”

He just laughs nervously nodding a bit. “R-right. Thank you again.”

“Not a problem.” You wave, no extra work you were thankful for that at least.

Later when you were getting off your shift you didn’t expect to find the green haired customer from earlier. If your feet weren’t hurting from all the movement, you’d fine in the day you probably would have lingered longer but you just send him a wave.

Almost as if you were a magnet for bad situations, you found yourself in his arms again. “Careful you must be accident prone.”

You shake your head. “Hehe, if that were only the case that’d be great. It’s just my quirk, I’m not exactly the luckiest person around.”

“Oh, that must be annoying.” He mumbles a bit, and you watch as he seemed to spiral into a mess as he was looking at you.

“It ain’t too bad, it just activates when it wants to.” You shrug a bit. “Thanks again for saving me twice today.”

“It’s what I do, Y/N.” You were about to take a step back trying to figure out how he knew your name, but your coworker quite literally shouted it across the store.

“That’s cool, what’s your name if you don’t mind me asking? My Nana always told me to mind my manners and that included thankin people properly.” You smile, changing your weight back and forth between your feet.

“Midoriya.”

“Well, it was lovely meeting you and thank you for saving me from some embarrassing hospital visits.” You give a slight bow.

“Not a problem.”

2: “I’m way too sober for this.” Aizawa

Fixing your suit collar, you weren’t sure if you felt silly or like this was simply a long time coming. The time you spent with this man was quite literally life changing and despite your daughter pestering for the two of you to get married it was only now that the idea dawned on you. When you were washing his mug and putting it in the same spot or realizing that his coffee was running low in your house, and you made a note to buy some more. There wasn’t a moment where you could imagine living the rest of your life without this man, flaws, and all.

But as you stood in front of his apartment unannounced with a cup of his favorite take-out coffee in a suit you were starting to feel silly at this idea.

“Keith this is the last time I take your suggestions.” You grumble reminded that your daughter was currently attempting not to burn your apartment down by making breakfast.

Ringing the bell again you felt your anxiety eating at the last bit of confidence you built up solely to come here. Only for the door to open and Shouta to look at you confused.

“Did I miss something?” From the look alone he was about to check his phone to see if you sent him anything and your last bit of nerve was dying.

“No!” You shout pushing the coffee toward him. “Will you marry me?”

Rightfully this man looked confused, sweatpants and messy hair just as you would like any other day while you were dressed in a fitted suit. He looked at the coffee cup and accepted it hesitantly.

“I’m not sure what brought this on, but sure.” He nods a bit.

You deflate relaxing a bit as you crumble to the ground. “I thought I was gonna have an anxiety attack before you answered. Do you know it’s hard to get a suit rented in less than twenty-four hours? Because I didn’t. I hope we can take all that planning stuff slow. Not to mention Keith is probably burning my apartment down as I speak.”

Shouta nods a bit as he sips from the coffee. “I’m way too sober for this.”

“You will continue to be unless you want the two of us to move into your apartment,” you roll your eyes before turning to go back. “You have five minutes Keith wanted to make you breakfast.”

“I fear our nearly adult daughter might need to learn how not to set fires when cooking,” he yawns as he seems to grab a sweater and his cat, Tea gifted to him by said daughter who coincidentally found it while patrolling one day.

You loosen the tie a bit, finally feeling like you can relax. “She’ll be happy to know that you’re willing to teach her how to cook.”

“Only if it’ll keep us from becoming better acquainted with the fire department in the area. They already know her well enough to call her by name when she passes the station,” Shouta points out, you were now holding Tea while he put his sweater on not spilling even the smallest bit of coffee.

You nod a bit. “And I guess by our union I’m gaining what more than twenty adult children who still see to cause you troubles?”

“They’re not my children.” He groans.

“I got a phone call from Shoto’s manager concerning his alarmingly persistent advancements toward a particular person. Said person nearly lost their job because he froze most of the building. Keith handed me the formal invitation to their wedding. It seems we revived one to attend on the groom's side.” You ramble off as you lead the man to your apartment.

“Did you reply?”

You shrug a bit. “Was waiting for you.”

3: “Hey, sorry I’m late I couldn’t get out of work.” Tartaglia (Childe)

You pride yourself in your patience, your mom told you that when you were a child, you’d find plenty of other ways to bide your time when waiting for her or a treat. All your friends and even strangers commend you for your patience. It’s gotten to a point where you wonder if you were patient with people or simply too tired to fight. Too tired to leave.

So right now, in this moment while you were sitting at the table at a restaurant you were starting to lose that prized patience. It was nearing the fifth hour of waiting for a blind date, it was humiliating you should have left after the second hour, but you found yourself feeling guilty.

Though just as you were considering leaving someone took the seat in front of you. “Uh…”

You blink. Sitting before you was a man surprisingly, he looked rather sharp despite being dressed quite plainly. Auburn hair looks messy almost as if he’s just wet it and freed it of gel.

“Hey, sorry I’m late I couldn’t get out of work,” he flashes a lopsided smile which made you relax a bit.

But he didn’t match the description of your blind date. “You didn’t have to…”

His hand sits on yours giving you a bit of squeeze. “Whoever made you wait five hours without so much as a call or excuse doesn’t deserve you.”

Chuckling you felt your eyes prick with tears. “Um thank you, would you like to share a meal with me?”

He nods. “My name is Tartaglia, but you can call me Childe.”

This made you raise a brow. “Interesting connection, you can call me y/n.”

Saving at your eyes to keep your face from getting achy later you smile at him. Though surprisingly the conversation was lovely. You found yourself talking with him quite well. Though he refused to let you pay the bill, you were sure he was the host that sat you down hours prior.

“So, you enjoyed your night?” He asks, hand holding yours almost as if you were his partner at a fancy ball.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” You smile. “And no need to worry I won’t be waiting five hours for anyone without some kind of warming.”

Childe nods as he kisses the back of your hand. “You don’t deserve to wait they should be waiting for you instead.”

“Thank you for the consideration.” You roll your eyes trying to calm your swooning heart, there was no reason for you to be swept up in cheesy lines by a stranger.

Masterlist <-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-> next

#bnha x reader #genshin impact x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #midoriya x you #tartagalia x reader

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mha-quotes-and-such · 10 months

Note

That's exactly it! In the entirety of BNHA there has been what, 3 deaths? And none of them have been students? You're really telling me these full grown adult villains who have been training their quirks for YEARS can't take out 15/16 year olds that haven't even had a year of proper training? Miss me with that. There are NO stakes, so even when students get really hurt, I know they're going to be fine so I just don't care at all.

I'd have a character like Kirishima killed. I love that boy SO much but can you imagine the absolute heartbreak for every single character if Kirishima died? That's the good shit there. Or Uraraka is another good one to have die. A driving force for Midoriya. Or really any of the main students.

Or Aizawa.

I think characters like All Might and Endeavour are cop-outs for death. I want good characters that are loved to die. Like, Midnight and Nighteye(?) were sad, sure, but neither of them had enough screentime to really hurt. And while I won't say spoilers for the manga, let's just say the current arc for two characters has PISSED me off big time for cop out survival.

Honestly I think thats one of my biggest problems with media with young protagonists. Sure, if a villain was ganged up on by a bunch of kids that might be a problem, which the series does ok at points, but like. One on one combat these kids should not be winning so decisively?? Like you said, theyre 15/16 fighting people who have dedicated their entire lives to their craft, how are they handling this with little to no repercussions? Thats something I could go on about forever, but I digress

Those are all really interesting choices! Aizawa in particular is really intriguing, and I think could work well. I think killing off students, while it would absolutely be effective, could very easily become an issue of turning a beloved character into nothing more than a plot device if done poorly. Aizawa on the other hand I think is close enough to the students to work effectively, loved enough by the fandom to be a blow, but removed enough where he wont act as a super heavy crutch to aid the story if that makes any sense? My only fear with Kirishima or Uraraka is that if its not done right it could become something thats relied on too heavily while developing Bakugou/Midoriya respectively. Although @thelittlegirlinwonderland made a good point here that having a student die would emphasize that they are just children, which could definitely help with the realism of it

I definitely agree with you on All Might and Endeavor, especially the latter as I feel he would be a very fan-servicey kill (as odd as that sounds). However I do think All Might will die before the series ends. Personally it seems theyre heading in the direction of a very coming-of-age-finding-yourself plot for Midoriya that I think will require All Might dying. I guess we’ll just have to see, but it would align with their trend of less risky kills

#not a quote #ask #hopefully this is understandable #storybuilding choices like this are so cool imo #also i hope you dont mind me @ing you!#tw death

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yellowbluemoonshine · 2 years

Note

Hi! I hope you are doing okay ❤

Do you think All Might will die? And if yes then who will kill him?

Thank you so much, anon ^^! I am trying to be better, i am fine. I hope you are doing well, too :)))).

I dont know that he will die or not but i see possible parallels between him and Endeavour in future chapters.

The last time in manga we saw Allmight, he was rushing to somewhere and i assume its most likely Shigaraki and Deku' side. He always wanted to talk with Shigaraki even since Shimura reveal but he was powerless and now, he thinks Midoriya shouldnt carry all the burden and it is his responsibility so i expect him to go there.

It is mentioned that Allmight will be brutally killed by some villain in Overhaul arc by Nighteye. But we also saw that future can be changed so it is no certain that whether he will die or not. Maybe he can die to save Shigaraki but i think Shigaraki wouldnt like that another person (other than his mother) die by trying to save him. It might be terrible for him so maybe, this time, he and Deku whose flaws are being self destructive heroes might try to live. Which would be better conclusion for their arc.

Another reason why i think he will most likely be involved with Deku saving Shigaraki mission is because Endeavour is involved with Shouto saving Dabi mission right now. (It seems author decide to make adult heroes involve with kids 'saving plan' too). (There might be parallels to Bakugou apologise Izuku moment because Bakugou and Endeavour characters/redemptions etc is parallels but i hope it doesnt happen because that is terrible writing). Allmight is indirectly failed Shigaraki and Endeavour failed Dabi in any way possible. It is their responsibility after all so before Deku and Shouto save their foils, Allmight and Endeavour will take some responsilibity for their past actions. Of course, Allmight is nowhere near as bad as Endeavour and the fact that Allmight will choose to come to Shigaraki while Dabi had to chase after Endeavour to make him face...even this shows the difference between them. So yeah, this is what i think it will happen. Whether they will save them together with kids or they will help kids from behind or they will say 'Sorry' or they will show some sort of remorse action to make Shigaraki and Dabi calm down and meanwhile, kids definitely will show there is hope for future so they can stop killing themselves and others.

Though, there is another thing will most likely happen to save them. Recently there is this repeated theme in league chapters. 'Friends'. Afo made fun of Dabi for not having friends. Spinner asked help from Kurogiri to save Shigaraki and others in a chapter named 'Friend'. Kurogiri is having identity crisis in war by saying 'f-f-frie-friends' and trying to help league and Aizawa-Mic at the same time. Mirio made Shigaraki mad when he said 'You dont have any friends' and Shigaraki screamed 'No! I do have them!'. Dabi and Toga recently bond through Twice's death. Toga is having crisis because she feels disconnected from her dear friends because she cant become them. Even Afo seems to be suspecting about someting with his plan because of it.

If we connect all this together with 'Shouto saying He felt saved because he has friends (class 1a)' and 'Deku shouldnt fight alone, he needs his friends', this friendship theme will definitely have a big role to defeat Afo/solve the problem and save them. They all need their friends. Separating them wasnt really a good plan. They need to come together eventually. Kids will be the key to save them, to change their minds but eventually, it might even big help for them. Especially for Shigaraki since 'save me' is main theme of his arc and since he saved league by giving them a home, they (especially Toga and Dabi since they never showed how much they love league and Shigaraki) might play a role for him to be saved from Afo. The answer is everyone coming together for a better future since this is the story of how everyone become heroes together. And this time, actually saving everyone. (Maybe reaching but if Afo turns into child, maybe he will even be saved idk, maybe this will be Bakugou's role since there is some parallels between them idk and well, the one who dont have friends is him since he used them all so karma too, well, we will see).

Anyways, friends are the key, here.

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violetlunette · 2 years

Note

What are your thoughts on Mics scenes in the school briefs?

I know a lot of people read it and assume Mic is a heavy drinker, but he doesn’t actually drink much. He seems to show up and tell off eraser for going out drinking without him because he’s concerned about Aizawa being a black out drunk.

Knowing Aizawa is drunk because he is more aggressive in their fighting is interesting, might be even another reason he makes sure to watch him.

His line about days off being for hangovers seems more telling to heavy drinking, but it could be just a line since he’s the only one who doesn’t seem drunk other than All Might.

I never expected Yamada to be the mom friend at parties but it makes sense.

I like the School Briefs' scenes as I think they’re cute. The only holdback is that you can tell the books were written for a younger audience which isn’t a bad thing, but it definitely has a different tone than the manga. As for the drinking, I’m with you. Mic is a social drinker but spends most of his time being social rather than drinking (Aizawa ironically is the opposite). He drinks, but most of the time the drink is forced down his throat (by Midnight). Hizashi even states when he orders that the drink is mainly there to keep him company. Usually, Mic is likely too busy talking to drink. That being said, I’m willing to bet that he can hold his alcohol better than Aizawa. Now, I’m no expert on alcohol but, if I’m correct, then having a bunch of types of alcohol mixed together makes the alcohol levels of a drink stronger. Hizashi got several concoctions forced down his throat and was fine. He didn’t even get buzzed. (I mean, he died for a minute, but he got better.) You’re right about the mom-friend thing, though. It’s subtle, but Mic spends the whole night keeping an eye on the others and making sure everyone is having fun, including All Might, who seems awkward. (I like that Mic was the one to cheer up All Might when he was worried that he was bringing down the party. It’s the only real AllMic scene in the series.) I don’t think he was so much as telling off Aizawa as he was pouting. Aizawa rarely goes out, so when he does, Hizashi wants to hang out. As much as we love to joke otherwise, Aizawa is an adult that can take care of himself, and Hizashi knows this. (The hangover line could go either way. I think that while Hizashi never gets drunk-drunk, he drinks enough to get a nasty headache.)

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thequietmanno1 · 1 year

Text

Thelreads, MHA 278, Replies Part 2

1) "oh ouch, I think that Midnight definitely broke something on that fall”- She not only fell two stories through some solid tree branches, I think those rubble chunks crushed her underneath on the way down.

2) “Alright Midnight, I believe at you, you definitely has a plan ready right now, don’t you? There’s no way we gonna let that thing reach Shigaraki, oh no, you will solve this problem, for sure”- She can’t solve the problem, but she’s got a direct line to the smartest student in 1A for some aid in getting it fixed.

3) “Or maybe she’ll just synthesize a copy of Midnight’s gas- wait, can she even do that? I mean, if she knew the formula she could, I suppose? Can she create a gas? I feel like we already talked about this before but I don’t remember which consensus we reached”- It doesn’t have to be Midnight’s gas specifically, just a very strong aesthetic. And if you evaporated it, I guess it would become a gaseous form, but as it stands it’s actually more effective for it to be a liquid, so they can directly inject it into Machia’s body without it getting blown away or dispersed otherwise. I don’t know how midnight’s gas would have worked up against Dabi’s fires and the hot updrafts they create, but I bet it wouldn’t have been that good.

4) “oh no Midnight, she has no idea, it’s not like they couldn’t see a woman flying through the skies and then crashing down”- Well, most of them actually didn’t. it’s a little hard to tell, but Machia is blitzing across the forest landscape, so he tossed Mt lady aside several miles back and has nearly reached the kids by the time she catches back up. His size and his speed mean he’s like a mountain moving at the speed of a bullet train, and just as unstoppable.

5) “MIDNIGHT PLEASE STOP RAISING FLAGS THERE WE KINDA CAN’T SPARE THE TIME FOR THAT”- In her defence, she doesn’t tell the kids to fight Machia themselves, she tells them to make the sedatives, pass them onto any adult heroes around and then get out of the danger zone. Choosing to engage with Machia and cut out the middle man is Momo’s decision, but Midnight was only expecting the kids to try and inject Machia if there wasn’t anybody else who could do it for them, and even then, only because of the loss of life he’d bring otherwise. Sadly, the kids having all been evacuated from the front lines means that there really aren’t any adults around to aid them, so they’ve got to be the heroes who’ll save the day themselves this time.

6) “MOMO PLEASE DON’T DOUBT YOURSELF

WE ALL DEPEND ON YOU NOW”- Had it not been for the confidence-boosting chat she and Shoto had against Aizawa and Shoto reaffirming how amazing she is, I actually think Momo would have cracked under the pressure here. It’s a lot to ask of her, making a call that could decide whether or not her friends will live to see tomorrow, or do nothing and take the risk of the damage that Machia will unleash. Obviously, he’s gotta be stopped, but she’s being asked to weigh the likelihood of their success and survival in a split second. It’s just neat seeing how the small events like that come back to have an impact on the kids later on when the situation truly becomes serious for them.

7) “ALRIGHT, SO I ASSUME SHE WANTS TO KNOW HOW LONG SHE HAS TO SYNTHESIZE THE GAS, AND HOW MUCH OF IT SHE’LL NEED BASED ON HIS SIZE. MUDMAN IS PROBABLY MEANT TO SLOW HIM DOWN SO THEY CAN HIT HIM WITH IT”- More like how long they can afford to get into position for the most optimal plan of attack, since Momo made that serum in a second and made enough for everybody to have an chance at injecting it into Machia

8) “MT LADY IS STILL KICKING

UNLIKE KAMUI AND MIDNIGHT, YOU AINT GONNA PUT THIS MOUNTAIN DOWN”- Well, Kamui’s helping too, but even with them both getting beaten up the villains, nether one is breaking down…which bodes poorly for their chance of surviving this, or how damaged they’ll be in the aftermath. Machia isn’t even really fighting them right now, he’s just pushing past them and ignoring their attempts, and they’ve still gotten this banged up because of how unstoppable he is.

9) “HELL FUCKING YEAH MOMO! THAT’S THE SPIRIT!

TIME TO PUT THE GIANT TO SLEEP”- Time to beat Jack’s record for Giant-slaying…

@thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #mha278

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theloveinc · 2 years

Note

i adore aizawa like “playfully” pouting if you get even as much as a bikini line wax, let alone a full brazilian. he seems like the kinda guy to play with YOUR hair, even if it’s not long. stickin his hand in your underwear to brush the hair, if it’s long really play with it. encouraged you to use conditioner (if it’s safe for your skin!) to make it soft, loves feelin the scratchy feeling against his hands, face, etc. he pretends to be nonchalant when you mention you didn’t feel like shaving but secretly he’s celebrating, crying, popping champagne he’s so excited. if you ever shaved or waxed a design on tho… 😈

this also stems from the idea that because he’s surrounded by pubescent, pre-pubescent and young kinds/of all ages it’s slightly more age appropriate when the person he’s with is confident about what their body naturally provides. ofc if you prefer bare it’s your body, i’ve recently come to terms with having body hair in most places and it is so life changing to feel so comfortable with rockin that look. i adore your thoughts on this caitie!!!! 💜

*scream* you... you....... you... this is......... perfect........ literally... could nOT be more accurate.... what do i even say WAHHH?

Aizawa, lover of all things body hair, KING of genital health... he reaches into your undies even casually and he knows if you've done something sdjksadfksa, you could NEVER keep it a secret from him. Plus, the stern (but warm) way he looks at you says it ALL, he doesn't even need to ask what was done, he just... already knows. As long as you're taking care of yourself, though... he'll let it slide (and more so if you're happy about it, wink wonk, and want to share).

And I SO agree about him preferring more... adult bodies! However you look, womanly, manly... he's into the stretchmarks, scars and natural sags and wrinkles that come with age and growth and work. Not just because of the kids and their childish problems + insecurities (though you're right: that, mainly LOL), but because it's what makes the most sense to someone like him. He's definitely aged and hairy, too so that's what he LIKES🤤

Thank you so much for enjoying the idea, your additions definitely made it even better!💕💕💕 and same actually, the pandemic really did wonders for my love of body hair, and esp my own!!! It's truly what we deserve hehe<333

#aizawa #EEEEE THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS I CRIED #and im dead at aizawa's internal little party going on in his head #him on the outside: :|#him on the inside: WOOOO YEAHHHH BABY #asdlkfjakdsh takes me out #shaving matching little hearts into your poobs too #OR OMG if youre showering together shaving a heart in his chest hair #he's like omg but can't bring himself to be mad #sdkjlfadjksh goshhh i wanna kiss him and u :(((#caitie things #anon things #aghostfromeden #queue

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czenzo · 1 year

Text

Misguided Ghosts

[ao3]

summary: Shota Aizawa was four years old when he saw his first ghost. At nine, he joined the Yuuei Ghost-Hunting Agency. At thirteen, he watched one of his best friends die. At fourteen, he left Yuuei to work solo as a freelancer. And at eighteen, he unexpectedly crosses paths with his old friend, Hizashi Yamada.

words: 4292 rating: M

note: title from Paramore, my beloved

no knowledge of Lockwood & Co is needed for this fic (other than the fact the world is plagued with ghosts at night)! though you'd probably be able to infer the meanings of all the terminology as you read through it, there are some key definitions below the cut, just in case:

Visitor – a ghost. Comes in many types (including Spectres and Rawbones). Deadly to the touch. Weak to iron, salt, magnesium. Talents – Sight, Listening, Touch; senses prevalent in young children that allow them to sense Supernatural presences. Talents fade into adulthood. Agents/Operatives – children who use their talent to hunt ghosts. They carry silver-encrusted rapiers, and usually work under an agency. Supervisors – adults who accompany groups of agents on cases; they often do very little to actually help tackle the Visitors. Death glow – the energy trace left by death.

——

Shota Aizawa had always been able to see ghosts.

He could remember his first like it was yesterday; the echoes of his mother screaming at him to get the hell away from her, the light tiptoeing of his small, four-year-old’s feet as he hurried out of the room. The pitter-patter of the rain that surrounded him as he sat on the front doorstep, hiding safely away from her, and the faint light of the moon peering out from behind the clouds of dusk.

The eerie glow of a Spectre floating at the other end of the garden.

The Visitor lacked a clear face, but Shota sensed her looking right at him anyway. Her dress – shredded around the legs, torn around her chest – faded out of view along with her feet; not even Shota’s Sight could see beyond that. Her vaguely tendril-like locks of hair floated around her neck, which gaped open… and out seeped an endless dark, inky flow of—

“Mr. Aizawa, are you with us?”

Shota blinked. He was sitting in a stiff armchair, opposite a man wearing a, quite frankly, amusing monocle, whose suit was so ill-fitting it bulged at the seams. It looked wildly uncomfortable, and not for the first time in his eighteen years of life, Shota was grateful that his freelancing gig allowed him to wear clothes of his choosing. Cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt – all black, of course – along with a simple agent’s utility belt and thick-soled boots did the job well, and honestly, it didn’t look half bad on him.

He nodded at the client in front of him. “Yes. You were saying your basement is the site of a haunting?”

“Indeed,” the client – a Mr Yamamoto, if Shota’s memory served him well – said with a sniff. “It has been troubling my dear wife and I for the past week or so, and we need it sorted quickly and quietly. If word got out that my property was unsafe – or, God forbid, it became a murder site”—at this, Yamamoto dramatically shivered—“well, I daren’t even think of the consequences. Deal with it, and I will compensate you generously.”

“Of course.” Rich, hoity-toity clients were by far some of the most draining to deal with, but… they were rich. Pretentious. Prioritised their fancy reputation above all else – which resulted in very, very nice payments for relatively simple cases. This one would be enough to keep Shota fed for a good while, and he almost smiled at the thought of it. “If you allow me to spend the next hour or two examining the building while we still have daylight, I can be back here tomorrow evening to deal with the Visitor.”

Yamamoto clapped his hands together. “Splendid! Yes, examine to your heart’s content. Go through those doors, turn left, descend the stairs. You shall find yourself in that dreaded basement.”

Shota rose from his seat and nodded politely. “Thank you.”

Out in the hallway, he soaked up the sudden silence. Yamamoto had gotten somewhat carried away with his ramblings; Shota had heard all about his career and the various plots of land he owned before he’d even mentioned which room the haunting was located in.

Slowly, he breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. He followed Yamamoto’s directions, felt his rapier softly hitting his leg as he descended the stairs, and found himself in a rather swanky basement. Along one wall sat many cases of wine. Shota squinted at them and found he recognised very few, but he’d never been one for wine, anyway. Cheap beer was his go-to, and had been for years (even at fifteen, he’d passed as old enough to buy it – which was a damn good thing, because a job like his required at least some dependency on alcohol to cope).

Following basic protocol, he kept the lights off. For comfort, he rested one hand on his rapier’s hilt, ready to bring it into action in a flash. He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, tuned out the beating of his heart… and opened his ears to the room in search of something, anything, supernatural or not.

His Sight, of course, was his strongest Talent by far, and it was the reason he’d been so successful as a freelancer. All of the other Yuuei Agency kids who had been on that case – that awful, traumatic case – back when he was much younger, and best friends with— No, he was getting sidetracked. To put it simply: everyone else involved in that incident had either stayed at Yuuei, tried and failed at freelancing, or dropped out of the ghost-hunting career path entirely. Shota was the only one to gain some semblance of independence and a steady flow of income. And one of few to retain his own life.

The basement was quiet. Gentle gusts of wind whistled outside, and an odd skittering sound came from the far corner. A mouse, most likely. Yamamoto wouldn’t be pleased, but that wasn’t Shota’s problem.

At last, he opened his eyes. Keeping them closed for the first few minutes was key to getting them to quickly adjust to the room’s dimness, and allowed him to spot death-glows as efficiently as possible. Shota slowly swivelled his head, and scanned the room left to right and back again. As far as basements went, this one was impressively decked out, and Shota wondered if it acted as some kind of bachelor pad for Yamamoto and his friends. A pool table, sofas, flatscreen television… not the ideal place for a haunting. Too many breakables.

He continued to scan the room, back and forth, back and f—

There.

Tucked away in the space between the pool table and a wall, a faint, unnatural light emanated from the floorboards. Its outline was large enough to suggest it belonged to a human, but too vague in shape to determine much else. On the bright side – no pun intended – a faint glow most likely meant a weak haunting. Shota would get this all cleaned up tomorrow evening, and march out of Yamamoto’s mansion with a heavy wad of cash in his pocket.

After careful data-collection, location research, paperwork, etcetera… first, of course. He had always found the pre-case preparation boring Oboro was the best at it but, admittedly, it was vital to ensure a case sailed smoothly, regardless of how simple a haunting seemed to be. He’d learned that the hard way.

Once temperature readings and room dimensions were recorded and tucked away into Shota’s trusty pocket notepad, he ascended the stairs, bid Yamamoto farewell, and stepped out into the early evening of Musutafu. A deep breath in, a long, slow exhale out. Taking in clean air after being stuck in a stuffy room was always refreshing.

The walk back to his apartment was a long one, and with the lack of buses in the richer residential areas (screw all the posh prats and their fancy cars), he had to speedwalk to ensure he was back inside before nightfall. The ghost-deterring lamps along the sidewalks did their job in part, but they were never one hundred per cent effective, and randomly stumbling into a Visitor on his way home sounded like a pretty pathetic way to kick the bucket, in Shota’s opinion. Plan: get home without dying, feed Sushi, the stray tabby he’d wound up taking in, get a good amount of sleep, and haul himself over to the local library tomorrow to get started on research.

“Think of the money, Shota,” he grumbled to himself. After this payment, he could treat himself to one of the more expensive jelly pouches available at the convenience store near his place, and buy Sushi a tin of good quality tuna. Her delighted meows would make all of the required freelancing paperwork worth it.

He made it back to his apartment in one piece. Home, sweet home: a shabby, one-room setup, with a thin mattress on one side and the bare-minimum kitchen supplies on the other, and a bathroom in the hallway that he shared with the other residents on the same floor. Once Sushi was fed and he’d shed his utility belt and boots, Shota didn’t bother to change out of his clothes and simply crashed onto the mattress. It didn’t take long for sleep to overcome him.

——

By some miracle, he woke up and was out of the door heading in the direction of the library before nine o’clock, which was necessary if he wanted to grab a seat. All of the local agency operatives gathered at the same library to research and prepare for cases, and Shota didn’t have the energy to have to intimidate some puny fourteen-year-old to give him their seat that morning. He’d do it if it was absolutely necessary… but if it could be avoided, he would much prefer that.

He entered the large building and made a beeline to the section that would most likely have the relevant information on Yamamoto’s property, with the intention of later moving on to the newspaper archives to look into any past incidents that had happened within it. Judging by the faint death glow, it was an old murder, and the haunting was probably brought on by an important anniversary to the deceased approaching, or a sentimental item being disturbed. Shota had seen many cases like it before.

Time passed differently in libraries, Shota was sure of it. By the time he’d gone through half of the relevant newspapers, his watch read three p.m., and his empty stomach growled to confirm that yes, he had just spent the better part of the day holed up in there, surrounded by books. While he still had daylight, he needed to finish up his research, stop by his apartment to gather his equipment for tonight, eat something, and be back over at Yamamoto’s before the sun set.

No big deal, not at all. Shota took a deep breath and resisted the urge to clench his teeth. The independence of freelancing was incredible, but the responsibility of doing everything himself was most certainly not.

He skimmed the rest of the newspapers so fast he gained no less than four paper cuts, hopped on a bus back to his apartment (and silently thanked whatever deities made the bus be on time, for once), and was greeted with Sushi screaming at him for abandoning her all day.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, stooping to scratch her chin. “After this job’s payment I can take a short break from cases, spend some time with you.” He paused, and considered how the only close company in his life was feline. “I wish you could understand me.”

After Sushi was given some well-deserved scratches and belly rubs, Shota got to work packing his duffel bag and prepping his work belt. Thick chains, iron filings, salt bombs, a couple of magnesium flares – just in case – silver nets, and his flask were all tucked away in their correct compartments. His stock of candles and matches was still going strong, so he wouldn’t be completely blind in the darkness of the basement. All in all, Shota was well-stocked, and thought he was about as prepared as he could possibly be.

He had to sprint to get to Yamamoto’s on time, however.

“Ah, young Aizawa,” Yamamoto said at the door. “Good to see you again. I hope this will be all swept under the rug come sunrise, yes?”

Shota needed a moment to catch his breath. “Yes,” he said eventually, nodding in accordance. “Should be a clear-cut case. Quick.”

“Excellent. Do come in, come in! Now, I really should be leaving – my wife left earlier, you see, she was much too nervous to stay this late – but I trust you will take care of my home. Keep damages minimal, or I’m afraid they will be taken out of your payment.”

“Of course.”

After keys were exchanged, Yamamoto cast one long, nervous glance at Shota standing alone in the middle of the hallway, then stepped outside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

And Shota Aizawa was alone once more.

There was little point in hesitation, so Shota made quick work of heading down to the basement to get things set up. In no time at all, he’d arranged a circle of iron chains to the side of the base of the stairway, allowing for an easy escape exit if necessary. Inside it sat his duffel bag and a few lit candles, providing a soft orange glow amidst the slightly unnerving darkness surrounding him. He was painfully aware of the basement’s lack of windows, now.

After taking another round of temperature readings, Shota made himself comfortable in the middle of his chain circle and sipped at his flask full of coffee. It warmed him up from the inside out and kept him grounded as he sat on the lookout for any signs of supernatural disturbance.

He checked his watch. Time was getting on; no doubt the Visitor would become active soon.

In the meantime, Shota cherished every drop of his coffee.

A mere ten minutes later, he heard commotion behind the door at the top of the stairs. It was loud and clear enough for Shota to know it was human, but that just raised more questions than anything else. Habit, instinct, and experience meant Shota’s hand once again moved to rest on the hilt of his rapier as he slowly rose to his feet, taking care to not turn his back to the basement as he kept an eye on the door above the stairs.

There were multiple voices. What…? He was supposed to be left alone to do his job; had Yamamoto planned to have guests over and not informed them of a change in plans?

The door swung open, and Shota froze.

“—lright, alright,” a hushed voice said, as a group of footsteps gathered themselves at the top of the stairs and shut the door behind them. “Stay together. I’ll go down first, and then we’ll quickly set up the basic defences. Got it?”

A collection of whispered affirmatives followed. It took all Shota had to not whisper ‘what the fuck?’

The group steadily descended the stairs and plunged into darkness, eyes not yet adjusted enough to see the dim light of Shota’s candles. He had the upper hand, he ought to take advantage of it.

And so he did.

When the leader reached the bottom step, Shota – staying within the confines of his chains – swung out his rapier and stopped it mere centimetres from the figure’s neck. Whoever it was likely felt the rush of his blade more than saw it, and they stopped dead in their tracks.

“State your business.”

“What the f—” The figure slowly raised their hands to feel along the edge of the blade. “A rapier? Are you an agent?”

“Freelancer. This is my case. What are you doing here?”

“A freelancer…?” They turned to face the group behind them, who still lingered halfway down the stairs. “No one ever mentioned there was a freelancer on the Yamamoto case, did they, kids?”

As the kids in question replied in the negative, Shota’s eyes drifted over to them. They were young, definitely – twelve at the most. All of them wore identical agent uniforms, and—

Oh, God.

He recognised that uniform. Those blazers, and the stupid ties.

“Yuuei,” Shota breathed.

“Oh, you know us?” the lead figure said, before attempting to gently push the rapier away from their neck. Shota’s arm remained stiff and steady.

“Yes, and I know you’re a company of completely incapable idiots who put children at more risk than necessary. I want you out. Leave me to this case.”

“Completely incapable id…” the leader trailed off. They blinked a few times – had their eyes finally adjusted? – and in one, slow turn, they moved to face Shota. The rapier was lowered as mutual recognition dawned on them both.

“Shota,” he whispered, as Shota hissed, “Yamada.”

Yamada reached for his belt and procured a flashlight, which he proceeded to shine directly into Shota’s face. “What the hell. Shota?”

“Fuck—!” Shota threw his arms out in front of him. “You’ve destroyed my night vision, it’ll take ages to readjust— Get that flashlight out of my face, before I shove it up your ass.”

“Wow,” was all Yamada said in return. He lowered the light and turned to his group of child agents. “Get your chain circles prepared, do your usual prep. I’ll deal with this, it’ll be alright.”

The children complied, and Shota seethed.

“This is my case,” he said, frantically trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I need this money far more than you and your stupid gremlins do.”

“Not even a ‘hello’? ‘Glad to see you again’? ‘Hey, Hizashi, it’s been five years since we last spoke, how are you’?”

“Yamada, it has been five years since we last spoke. I am surprised you’re still alive. You won’t be for much longer if you do not leave.”

“Not even using my first name, anymore? Cold.” Yamada sighed. He reached into his pocket to dangle a set of keys in the air, almost identical to the ones Shota had been given. “The Yuuei heads assigned us to this case, we spoke to Mrs Yamamoto, she gave us the deets, we did all the research… We’re supposed to be here, Sho—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“—and we have no intention of leaving.”

“I spoke to Mr Yamamoto, he gave me the details, and I did all the research. I don’t care what you say, but I was here first. Get out.”

“Yikes, double booked. Talk about lack of communication between spouses.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Get—”

“You kids all set up?” Yamada called over his shoulder. The agents – children – replied affirmatively, all huddled in their iron circles, little rapiers ready by their sides. “Good. Stay put, keep your eyes and ears open.”

Shota scoffed, and as he spoke, his voice grew in volume and threatened to crack. “You’re a supervisor. After all that shit we went through as kids – after we watched Oboro die at the hands of a Poltergeist because of incompetent Yuuei supervisors—”

“Sho—”

“—Do not call me that. After all of that, you stayed with them and became one of them yourself.” He paused to steady himself, to hold back the hot tears of anger that threatened to flow until he finally mustered the courage to speak again, voice barely a whisper. “I barely recognise you, Yamada.”

Yamada’s reply was cut off by one of the children shrieking.

Shota looked over Yamada’s shoulder to find they were all cowering in the same direction, away from the pool table, from which the death glow was mutating, manifesting into something else entirely. The long, convulsing ghostly limbs of a bloody, skinless corpse reached out and spanned the length of the pool table, casting a ghoulish glow across the green cloth. Its eyes clung to the sockets by threads as they goggled at the young agents. Phantom bones cracked… creaked… Ghostly teeth ground against one another. It rose up onto the table and steadied itself on all fours, waiting to pounce.

Shota’s breath caught in the back of his throat.

A Rawbones.

He’d never encountered one himself. His research hadn’t even suggested this case could be one – there had been a murder back in the day, sure, and a particularly gruesome one at that, but he had expected it to manifest as a Spectre or Phantasm at most. Not a gruesome, horrific fucking Rawbones.

Shota grabbed Yamada by the collar and pulled him into the safety of his iron circle. There was a worrying gap between the two of them and Yamada’s agents, but before they could even think about hightailing it, the Visitor needed to be subdued somehow.

The Rawbones’ mouth opened, slowly but surely, a horrific display of strained sinews and torn muscle. Its tongue lolled forward. As its eyes locked firmly on the child at the front of the group, Shota realised it had found a target.

Sure, the child was inside iron chains. Technically, the Visitor couldn’t get to her as long as she stayed inside.

But Shota wasn’t going to take any chances.

He leapt outside of his own chain circle, rapier held out steady in front of him. As he caught his balance, he registered the rush of air beside him, and realised Yamada had done the exact same.

Five years on, and they were both still reckless idiots.

“Come on, you bastard!” Yamada cried, a desperate attempt to divert the Visitor’s attention. The blade of his rapier stood parallel to Shota’s.

The Rawbones tilted its head with a sickening creak, then slowly turned to face the two of them instead.

Shota didn’t waste time yelling. He lunged, blade swinging, and was glad to hear the hissing of sharp iron slicing through ectoplasm. Yamada followed suit, and soon, the Visitor was unable to redirect its attention to the children, on account of being bombarded by skilful swordsmanship.

Between swings, Yamada yelled to his agents. “Kids – get out! Go to the hallway, stay by the front door!”

Amidst the Rawbones’ screeching and the singing of sharp rapiers against the heavy air, Shota heard a group of retreating footsteps, and eventually the creak of the basement door.

Good. One less thing to worry about.

“Sh— Aizawa,” Yamada panted. “How are we dealing with this?”

After a moment of quick deliberation, Shota replied, “I’ll keep it in this spot. You weaken it with a magnesium flare.”

“You brought“—Yamada ducked to avoid a swinging phantom limb—“magnesium flares? They’ll set this place alight!”

“If we don’t take that risk, Yamada, we could die.”

The lack of an immediate response made Shota hesitate, and he only narrowly missed getting touched by a tendril of burning ectoplasm.

“Hizashi.”

“Right, yeah, fuck— where’s your bag?”

“In the circle”—a swing of Shota’s rapier, another narrow miss—“flares are in the second pocket.”

Hizashi scrambled across the room, while Shota swung his blade in elaborate patterns to keep the Visitor confined to a single spot.

“Quickly!” Shota hissed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck—”

The flare soared through the air, hit the wall behind the Rawbones, and promptly burst into a ball of flames and metallic magnesium filings. As Shota’s vision cleared up, the Rawbones was nowhere to be seen, but the wall had taken hold of the flames fast and steady. He backed away, bumped into a stunned Hizashi, and instinctively, Shota dug his blunt nails into his partner’s shoulder.

“We need to leave,” he said, before saying again, “We need to leave.”

“Holy shit,” Hizashi murmured. “We’ve fucked up.”

“No— the Yamamotos hid something from us. We weren’t told enough to expect this. Hizashi”—Shota ducked to grab his bag, then desperately pulled at Hizashi’s arm—“we need to leave!”

Hizashi nodded frantically, and together they scrambled up the stairs, chased closely by the tails of ascending red-hot flames.

“Kids!” Hizashi screamed as the obediently waiting group came into view. “Outside! Now!”

As the rising flames reflected in the frightened children's eyes, they hurriedly grasped the door handle and flung it open. They swarmed out of the door, with Shota and Hizashi leaping out soon after. Hizashi slammed the door shut – as if closing it would make the fire magically disappear – and rushed towards his agents to check they were all okay.

Shota stood in the garden, hands on knees, and silently watched as the Yamamoto residence burnt to the ground.

‘I hope this will be all swept under the rug come sunrise, yes?’ Mr Yamamoto had said earlier.

In Shota’s defence, it technically still had. The Visitor and the house, in one fell swoop, had been erased completely. A method that was rather efficient, in its own, special way.

Once the children were all accounted for, Hizashi quietly drifted back to Shota’s side.

“This was not how I expected our paths to cross again,” he said, shouting to stop the flames from drowning out his voice.

“No, me neither.”

“Oboro’s probably laughing his ass off at us right now.”

A pause. “Yeah.” Despite everything, a small huff of laughter escaped Shota. He turned to look at Hizashi, only to find him already looking back. In five years, Hizashi’s hair had grown longer, and was now secured in a messy bun – of course, he still tried to look stylish whilst on the job – but little else had changed about him, and it was oddly comforting.

“I didn’t want to stay,” Hizashi said quietly. Shota had to strain to hear him. “I had no other options. I couldn’t freelance like you, I’m not cut out for that. Yuuei paid well, and… my family needed that.”

Shota stayed silent, urging him to continue.

“My Talent’s fading, Sho. I— we turn nineteen soon, it’s only a matter of time until your Sight’s gone, too. For me, it was either become a supervisor, or… God, I don’t even know.”

A hand came to rest on Hizashi’s shoulders, and Shota nodded. After a long stretch of silence, sirens could be heard approaching from a distance. It was speak now, or wait until after they were interrogated and probably had their licenses revoked.

Shota took a breath and said, “I’m sorry I left you.”

“I was never mad, but… it was hard, losing two friends at once.”

“I know.”

Though surrounded by chaos – next to a group of terrified children, faces lit by the flames of a burning mansion, and overwhelmed by the sound of fast-approaching sirens – Shota moved to rest his head on Hizashi’s shoulder.

The weight of Hizashi’s arm wrapping around him was a comfort like no other.

#shota aizawa #hizashi yamada #mha fic #mha #czenzo.fic

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