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eightantseatingapples · 3 months

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Aizawa X TeachingAssistant!Reader

Summary: Aizawa helps you feel less insecure about your role in protecting 1-A

Content: hurt/comfort, fluff, him being the best boyfriend

AN: this was actually supposed to be smut but I got carried away and it turned into this lol

Stacks of mismatched papers fell slowly from your desk as you desperately searched for the one paper you needed, Kaminari had finally submitted the ethics essay you assigned and you had lost it. After weeks of telling him how important it was, how you needed it otherwise it would be a fail, he finally and sheepishly handed it to you just before the day's end. You put it somewhere on the desk, you’re sure about that.

In the vague panic of trying to find the damn essay, you didn’t hear the door to your classroom open, and you certainly didn’t notice the silent figure making its way towards you.

A paper appeared in front of your face, being held by familiar, calloused hands. Moving your eyes upwards, you noticed who the hand was attached to — raven hair and scarred skin, soothing grey eyes with heavy bags, Shouta. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly and there was a tenseness in his jawline, but he wasn’t angry.

You took the paper with trembling hands and read the words, the handwritten letters with smudged ink — Denki Kaminari. With a disbelieving huff of air, you looked back up to Shouta and smiled.

“Thank you, I’ve been looking for that.” You mumbled, not bothering to seem put together in front of him, he’s seen you at your worst, this doesn’t even come close to that.

“You need to start putting things in their proper places.” Shouta’s low voice grumbled, tilting his head in the direction of the basket of essays on your desk — something he had added to avoid this specific situation. He wasn’t being rude, it had taken a long time to figure that one out, he was simply trying to help you. He just struggled to verbalise things in a kinder way. Your mouth opened to defend yourself before you just sighed and shook your head.

The hero let out a small huff of air through his nose before he crouched down and started to pick up all of the discarded papers and trinkets that had managed to end up on the floor.

“It’s, it won’t happen again, promise.” You swore, both of you knowing just how forgetful you were and that this would happen again within the next few days. It wasn’t your fault, everything was just so much, you were the only staff member who wasn’t a hero, and you were barely a teacher. Shouta recommended you to Nedzu to be a teaching assistant for the hero course given your natural charm and qualifications. Unfortunately, that came with the side effect that you just didn't have experience dealing with stressful situations, your biggest issue for years had simply been not making enough money. Now you had a class of mismatched children, all traumatised and aged well beyond their years, all training to fight and lay their lives on the line. Their biggest fear was death, yours was not marking the papers correctly.

It rubbed you the wrong way, the way these children — your children — could defend you better than you could defend them. Sure, with legal issues and the press, you were like a fish in water. But actually defending them? Fighting for their safety and security? Making sure they didn't die? You couldn't do that.

“I can hear you thinking, love, talk to me.” Shouta whispered, looking up at you from his crouched position on the floor, a stupid little octopus trinket in his hand, engulfing it. Midoriya had gifted you that one, after noticing your love for silly little decorations like that, he was a sweet boy. Too much on his plate. Your eyes didn't leave the small, green octopus as you spoke up in a shaky voice.

“It's… It's really stupid — nothing. It's nothing. I'm fine.” Your voice was shakier than intended, and the burning in your throat from unshed tears was annoying you. Shouta glanced down at the octopus, before handing it to you and raising a brow. He still hadn't gotten up from his crouch, sometimes he really reminded you of an overgrown cat. Inhaling a calming breath, you continued. “These kids, Sho, they don't… I dunno. It's too much for them, every moment they’re alive and breathing fighting for their lives, and I'm here demanding essays from them! I'm writing words on some paper, correcting mistakes and watching as they stare down at their papers with that look. Like they know that they've done shit even though they haven’t. They're doing so well.”

A pregnant pause.

“It's so unfair,” your fingers traced the seam lines of the octopus as you continued, “I just… I feel like I should be doing more, you know? I can't throw a punch, or use a flashy quirk to protect them. All I do is grade papers and—”

“They love you.” Shouta cut in with a soft voice, placing a hand on your bouncing leg. He glanced to the side, eyeing your desk and the various trinkets and silly photos. After a silent moment, he locked eyes with you, an unspoken command to listen. His free hand waved in the direction of your messy desk. “And you love them. I've just seen you panic for 5 minutes because you couldn't find an essay that Kaminari did. Any other teacher would just demand he rewrite it, but you know better. You know how much he struggles, so you extend his deadlines, don't give me that look, it's very obvious. And you know what? This class is the only one where he submits good essays, or any at all. Todoroki likes to nap in your class, he doesn't do that in any others because only this one feels safe. Midoriya never hesitates to ask questions like he does in most other classes. Hagakure always mentions how you ask her opinion every lesson, she likes feeling seen and you know that.”

Shouta let out a small laugh, seeing your bewildered expression.

“You may not be able to punch bad guys, or save them from burning buildings, but you are their safe space. You can grade their essays and leave little doodles with reassuring messages, you can give them gold stars when they exceed your expectations, and you can hug them and tell them that everything will be okay. They feel safe with you.”

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks as he spoke, his voice was so sincere and genuine that you couldn't even question it. Standing up, he shuffled your papers to be neater, grabbed the octopus, placed it down, and turned off your laptop. Wordlessly, he pulled you up from your seat and wrapped his arms around you, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. Your hands wrapped around him, grasping his shirt desperately as your face scrunched up.

It was hard not to compare yourself to those around you, considering the school was filled with people who had years of experience and knowledge about what was going on. Your kids even had more experience than you put in the field, and on multiple occasions, you had to ask them to explain certain things to you as they rambled on about their day. It got worse when the dorms were introduced, hearing them scream or whimper in their sleep, watching as they refused to stay alone for too long and would opt to do a sleepover in the common room (something that you would always pretend to not notice), or even just seeing the scars that were produced because of you. Because you couldn’t protect them.

“The kids, they don’t really talk to me,” Shouta murmured into your hair, kissing the top of your head before continuing, “it hurts a bit. I don’t mean to be so… me, I’m always worried they’ll keep it bottled up and explode one day. But you know what I heard Iida telling everyone the other night?” Shouta asked, specifically waiting for your response. You furrowed your brows and hummed, prompting him to continue. The raven-haired man rubbed his thumb against the small of your back.

“He said that if anyone was struggling, that you would listen and help. We have a literal guidance counsellor, and Iida, who is a stickler for rules and procedures, didn’t mention Hound Dog. His first thought was you. In times of crisis, his first instinct was to go to you for help. That’s important. It’s no use being able to take down bad guys if the students don’t trust you.

“The kids like your inexperience, they like that they can feel smart and brag about silly things while you spur them on and get them to explain. They like that you are there and that you will always be there.”

You choked on a sob, and Shouta shushed you with a small smile.

“Your kids love you, baby.” He whispered, and just like that, the dam broke. Your breath hitched and your whole body shuddered as you sobbed into his shoulder. Your mind was a giant concoction of shame and despair and pride, that the kids loved you. Because that’s all you could really ask for.

None of the kids commented on how doting you were the next day, they just smiled and preened under the endless compliments. Kaminari got his essay back, with a personal note so long it belonged on a separate sheet of paper. Iida was given your personal phone number for ‘emergencies’, saying the rest of the class would need it. Todoroki was given a small pillow to rest on in class.

And you? You were given an A3 card filled with kind messages and personal anecdotes about how you helped 1-A.

Shouta watched from his sleeping bag, a small smile on his face. He definitely didn’t tell the kids you were feeling sad, definitely not. He was confident everyone would be okay as long as you and he continued working as a team, protecting your children in all the ways they needed.

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